Mobian Cop Bad Cop
Important notice: The movie this fanfiction is based on is half-French, half-English. As such, what should be in French will be italicized, while everything else will be in English. This story happens thirteen years after the games` continuity. As an example, this sentence is in French.
Full synopsis: For Shadow, detective since ten years, solving his latest case is piece of cake compared to getting along with his new partner, a French, knuckleheaded coyote named Alexis. However, they will have to team up to find the murderer of hulo-related people, who acts on the English side as well as the French one.
Prologue
BRZZZT "next call please…" BRZZZT "we are talking to Derek." BRZZZT
A distant radio can be heard. The voice suddenly changed. "Hey, Roy, how`s it doing?"
"Not bad, not bad…" Roy answered.
"Hey, what do you think about the rumor that Station Square`s Dashers will be sold to Soleanna?" BRZZZT
"Dashers to Soleanna? Wait, you`re wrong, that`s not the rumor at all, Der`."
"Well, my half-brother supposedly…"
"Half-brother? Half-brother? Cousin, sister-in-law, the cab driver, the bar`s owner… the uncle, the nephew… It`s got nothing to do with that," Roy said, losing his temper.
The radio sounded distant, yet someone, in the semi-darkness, could hear everything that was said. That someone knew exactly what Roy and Derek were talking about.
"The real rumor, it`s that a team from Four-Lakes City is getting sold away. It might as well be a team from Station Square, it might be one from White Mountain, might be any city around Station Square, whatever…"
The person in the dark was attached to the chair he was sitting on. No one knew exactly what was happening. Unless this masked character over there has an explanation… The masked person was slowly tattooing something on the victim`s arm while listening to the radio show.
"I gotta admit…" Roy said. BRZZZT
"Well, since the strike…" Derek began.
"Which strike? Where`s the goddamn strike? Do you know where it went? It ended two years ago, the freaking strike!" BRZZZT
The masked tattooist slowly continued his task. He dipped his tool in some dark-bluish ink and continued drawing on the attached man`s arm.
"There`s no original Soleannian teams, all our teams get sent there…" Derek began.
"Who cares? Our sport is transforming. I can understand for the group of pretty girls wearing mini-skirts, the cheerleaders, at least it gives us guys something to look at, but do we have to give a damn about mascots?"
The victim was asleep. The bugging noise made by the tattooing machine didn`t seem to wake him up.
"Mascots are useless. They`re hairy, they`re big, and it`s hot as hell inside the big fat disguise. You might use it as winter clothing and you`d survive even in Mobius` Great North," Roy continued.
The tattoo pen buzzed while the masked tattooist continued his drawing. The buzzing almost hid the radio`s noise. What the two people on air say now is impossible to hear, or at least it is difficult to understand them. The masked guy said nothing; he may be listening to the radio show, or he might keep his mouth shut for suspense – or to avoid waking up his victim, who is a human around forty years old. The attached man coughed and started moving, so the tattooist stopped. The masked guy put the radio to Off as his victim slowly wakes.
"What's happening?" the attached man asked. Then he noticed his wrists are stuck to the chair`s armrests. "Why am I attached?"
The man was wearing a three-piece suit with a diagonally striped red, blue and white tie. The man finally opened his eyes, to see the tattooist, still wearing his mask. A single look is enough to see the tattooist is an anthropomorphic walrus. The walrus waves his hand in a "goodbye" fashion.
"What am I doing here? What did I do?"
The masked man finally speaks.
"That`s the problem, Mac…" the tattooist began. "You did nothing."
Mac was scared. In his eyes, there was some kind of feeling that could not be described, a mix of confusion, terror and misunderstanding. The masked walrus finally retired his mask. Now only terror could be seen in Mac`s eyes. As the walrus finally places back his mask over his head, Mac tries talking.
"I wanted to help you, y`know… you know it, don`t you?" Mac begins. The masked walrus slightly pokes his victim`s right cheek. "You should know it…"
The walrus turns away and pulls a strange-looking stick from a case.
"I wasn`t trying to drop you off… Detach me, we`ll arrange that."
But the walrus has pulled out the stick. It is long, bears a team name on it and the end looks like a double hockey stick; however the two curved wooden ends are placed in a right angle.
"Detach me!" Mac begs.
The masked assailant waves the hulo stick in front of his own face, while Mac, unable of moving, is watching. Mac understands what is going to happen. The kidnapper walks slowly around his victim.
"I can help you! You know, you`ve always been like a baby brother to me, my best friends, my p-" Mac begins, but is cut off when the walrus puts his hand over Mac`s mouth. After a few seconds, he retires his hand. "What the… where are you?" Mac asks, unable of turning more his head.
The walrus is just behind him, near an old television.
"Hush…the game`s about to begin." And the walrus strikes the back of his victim`s head with the hulo stick. This kills Mac instantly.
Just then some noise is heard coming from the television. A hulo game had just begun, and over the large slippery field, two teams are about to start playing. The masked killer watches the game, holding his hulo stick in his right hand. From the television, we can hear: "The referee has finally whistled, the two teams are about to begin. The goalkeepers are getting ready and the players rush to the balls…"
Author`s notes: This is a rather short prologue, but trust me that the next chapters will be longer for sure. I just wanted to have a nice, scary prologue so that everyone understands the story won`t be a walk in a nature trail.
