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Hey, everyone! Some have shown interest in the further exploits of the Pink Diamond crew, so I've finally set forward into writing the second part of the Hooligan Havoc series. So!

To first time readers: The Mina Mongoose Affair is a sequel to a prior fanfiction of mine, called Pink Diamond, that is still posted on my Ao3 and accounts. While I will try to account to some extent for those who haven't been able to read it, it still is probably best to read Pink Diamond first. This is mostly because Pink Diamond introduces a character who is pretty much fully throughout the Mina Mongoose Affair. Since MMA will very likely have story aspects that connect to the mysteries (purposefully) left unanswered in the first story, please think about reading PD first to get a feel for the situation.

To old readers: It's good to see you again! I'm really happy that people have asked me to further explore The Hooligans, Stella, and this world of Sonic as a whole. Happy readings!

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Chapter One

Money in the Hand

If one happened to be a particularly scummy breed of bounty hunter then there was no finer to place to check for employment than the seedy underbelly of Central City. A gleaming metropolis on its surface, there was no denying that crime and barely legal activities had their place there. Cluttered deep in the back corners of this seemingly beautiful city were hives of filthy bars cluttering with creatures ready to do whatever it took for money.

Nack the Weasel was a familiar to almost all of these establishments.

At the moment he was sitting on a stool in front of a bar as the television blared some concert, lazily swishing around the ice cubes in an untouched glass of scotch whisky. He had mostly ordered it for show—Nack didn't allow himself to be drunk in front of potential clients. He had other times where he could be completely shitfaced. Those times weren't when he was preparing himself to try and wring money out of a potential client in a bar so poorly lit that he was having trouble seeing his own hands in front of himself.

Glancing to the side, Nack caught a flash of bright green against pale yellow. Bark stood with Bean upon his shoulder closer to the exit, the light illuminating his fur and stern expression. It was offset only by his hyperactive avian partner bouncing back and forth across the bear's thick shoulders. The mere sight was enough to crack a smile across Nack's face. He inadvertently took a small sip of the glass he had been playing with.

His ear twitched a bit when he saw a flash of white and black darting back and forth behind Bark's left leg.

Before Nack could comment, though, a large hooded beast slammed down aside him. The stool groaned beneath the weight of the man aside him as labored breaths heaved out of him. One furred, clawed finger rose to draw the attention of the bartender as the weasel aside him watched in fascination. Beady black eyes peered at him from underneath the cloak—a capybara. In the back of his mind, Nack briefly recalled that his client was one of them.

"I would like an Arnold Palmer." The capybara said in a hoarse tone. Nack raised an eyebrow—the beast of a man sounded like he hadn't drank a drop of anything in months. The bartender nodded hesitantly, not bothering to question the beast's non-alcoholic choice, and shuffled backwards to prepare the request. The stool squeaked in protest as the capybara shifted to push his face right up against Nack's. A shiver ran down the weasel's spine as the hooded creature sniffed at him. Then, with a satisfied snort, he sat back.

"So you are the mercenary I arranged to meet with." It was a statement, not a question, yet Nack found himself nodded uncertainly as his hand itched for his pistol. The capybara laughed throatily. "No need to be unnerved, my dear weasel friend. I am no less threatening than your average client."

"My average client can range from a wimp to the fuckin' Terminator, buddy, that ain't encouraging." Nack chuckled weakly, and was surprised to find that the capybara joined him. "So you're…Thaddeus, right?"

"Well, my associates tend to call me Thad." The capybara chuckled; Nack only gave a slight grin in return this time. Something about this hooded stranger made the weasel uncomfortable. He wasn't sure what—perhaps it was his perchance to excuse and laugh, perhaps it was his thick and concealing hooded coat. Whatever it was, Nack didn't like it, and he tended to trust that instinct.

…But he had been promised a lot of money for this supposed job.

"So I suppose you would like to know what it is that I want you to do, yes?" Thaddeus said casually, taking a sip from the glass in front of him. Nack raised a skeptical brow at the capybara and was treated to another rough laugh. "A stupid question, I suppose. Perhaps I should trend my ground carefully? You would not have brought your muscle if you hadn't suspected myself of something…foul towards yourself. I must admit, though, I can't see why the presence of the child is needed. Is she yours? There isn't much of a resemblance."

Nack bristled immediately, kicking the stool around to confirm the suspicions he had about the white and black blur peaking back and forth around Bark's legs. For a split second, a pair of bright blue eyes behind a fringe of black styled fur peered at him, then popped back from behind the leg it came from. It was too late, though; the ward of the Hooligans had already made herself apparent. The weasel sharpshooter grit his teeth in agitation. He had told the little girl to stay with the Marvelous Queen. Nack would bet anything that the little fox had sweet talked Bark into bringing her in anyways; the bear was pretty sensitive when it came to children.

"You don't seem like the fathering type, I must admit. Bounty hunting isn't much of a family man profession." Thaddeus mused, drawing Nack's attention back to him. "But who am I to judge? I'm a simple client of a bounty hunter. Perhaps I'm not much of a fathering type either. After all, not many fathering types would be placing a bounty on such a precious and harmless young woman. They'd be thinking of their own little girls and how it would feel to have them taken away. You wouldn't do that to me, would you, weasel?"

"Not a damn chance. She's not my kid anyways." Nack said through grit teeth. Thaddeus cast a glance across the weasel's sudden stiff posture but made no comment on it. "Who's the head?"

The hooded capybara said nothing. He simply gestured a claw to the rinky dink television set precariously arranged above the liquor bottles. Nack narrowed his eyes in confusion—for a moment, the bright colors on the screen didn't connect inside his mind. Then the brightly colored backup dancers fled from the stage on screen as all camera attention focused in on the main presentation. Cream yellow fur, vivid green eyes, and a torrent of purple locks cascading down the performer's back as she fell back into another performance for the world to watch. The weasel stared for a moment.

Then he burst out laughing.

"MINA GODDAMN MONGOOSE?!" Nack didn't even care how many people were staring in the bar; this was too good. "You want me to go get you Mina Mongoose for that paltry ass fee that you gave out? You really think that I'm gonna risk the heavy security on the world's favorite tweeny-bop brat for THAT?! I dealt with no-namers for less dinero than that!"

"Am I to assume that you are not interested in my current price?" Thaddeus said calmly. Nack just cackled in response, taking a swing from the scotch whisky that had been left alone on the counter. "I see. Well, I had figured this might be an issue. I admit, I lowballed the estimation of the price to be safe. It never truly hurts to be safe. I am willing to raise your fee if you're willing to cooperate."

Nack slammed the now empty glass against the counter. "What exactly are you going to be payin' me with, tough guy? Air? I know most of the Richie Riches in this world, and let me tell you, I ain't gonna buy for a second that you're one of them. You couldn't possibly afford what it would take to even get me NEAR the security around that damn woman."

"True, I couldn't afford it on my own. However, I am speaking here on behalf of a large organization with many donators. A good deal of them are extremely wealthy and would like to see our group go as far as possible." Thaddeus explained—his tone was still calm, even with Nack's speculative eyes on him. "If our resources are properly pooled, we can pay you approximately twenty five thousand a week. But we would expect you to have delivered her to us within the next two to the three weeks."

"Twenty five thousand a week….seventy five thousand…" Nack mused, knocking around the ice in his now empty cup as he stared down as the water coating the bottom. "I work in a team of three. It costs more to work in a team. Any supplements for that little issue?"

"I'll add in an extra five thousand for each extra working member. That should come out to about ninety thousand, IF the little girl is working as part of your team." Thaddeus replied casually. Nack didn't respond. The offer was undeniably getting more and more tempting by the moment. He watched the blinding colors on the television screen—the perky personality girl who belted out the pop songs that everyone seemed to be hypnotized by. In the back of his mind the weasel tried to deduce what this 'group' would want with something as harmless as a pop icon. He figured it probably wasn't his business, but still, it seemed suspicious. It seemed like a hostage situation in the making.

As a bounty hunter, contributing to hostage situations could be…complicated. It left the hunter in the middle of an affair they had nothing to do with, and often resulted in being stiffed on the bill. On top of that, having all the blame shifted to the hired hand was always a high possibility—people tended to blame the prick who took the hostage, not the prick who kept the hostage. To top it off, dealing with hostages was a pain in the ass. They struggled, they screamed, they cried, they argued. Dealing with that while dealing with avoiding the law (which would be on high alert for someone like the pop starlet) was one of the most difficult things a bounty hunter could be tasked with doing.

Still…

He clicked the ice around in his glass thoughtfully.

It was a lot of money. It could get them a long ways for a long while. Subduing Mina Mongoose would be a breeze—the girl seemed like the type to blow over at the smallest slight anyways. He had dealt with her security before in an assassination attempt and gotten caught, but he figured that the loser had to be learner sometimes. The only reason he had gotten caught was because of those Freedom Fighter idiots and they were already reportedly busy back in their hidey-hole. They wouldn't have time to monitor Mina. Certainly not without a warning ahead of time.

He clicked his tongue in annoyance.

Just what he needed. Another little girl to babysit. At least the one he currently had was there willingly.

Wordlessly, Nack held out his hand to shake then sharply drew it away when the capybara went to shake. "You gotta ensure, one hundred percent, that I'm gonna be gettin' my money. Can you assure that, Thaddeus?"

"I have no reason to lie to you. We stand to gain too much in this deal. Just bring them to us in Station Square." Thaddeus replied. Nack narrowed his eyes but said nothing; it wasn't his business to ask what the hell they wanted the pop star for. It was just his business to get her from point A to point B and grab his paycheck. Slowly, he slide his hand into the capybara's. He felt a chill run up his spine at the feel of Thaddeus's thin claws racking against the back of his hand but did his best to not make his reaction noticeable. Something told the weasel that the hooded man had noticed anyhow.

When he took his hand away, however, he was pleasantly surprised to find a wad of bills laced between his fingers. The capybara lifted himself to his feet with a groan, waddling towards the door. He took one long and careful glance through the Hooligans standing aside the open corridor—beady black pupils cast across the massive bear, the explosive duck, and the small white fox staring determinedly back at him. Then he gave a hoarse chuckle and disappeared into the fray outside the bar. Nack's crew immediately swarmed up behind him.

"What'd ya get, Snaggletooth, what'd ya get?!" Bean screeched excitedly, rolling right off Bark's arm and onto the bar. The green duck ignored the look of annoyed distaste that the bartender shot at him. Thankfully the man knew better than to toy with any of his clientele—this was not a bar that received a considerable amount of reputable patrons and the bird looked just off his rocker enough to cause mayhem. Still, he couldn't help but cringe when the little fox girl with them climbed straight from the stool to the counter to side alongside Bean.

"Forty hundred now." Nack replied, flipping through the bills in his hand. Bark nodded approvingly. "Twenty five hundred for each week that it takes to fill our assignment. Deadline is three weeks; they won't pay us past then."

"God damn, that's ninety hundred, Shoot-em-up!" Bean exclaimed. Stella nodded enthusiastically. "What's the job? We only heard you yellin' about Mina Mongoose."

"Oh, fer god's sake…" Nack reddened and tucked his eyes under his hat—yelling about some pop star in the middle of a bar could not have possibly made him look good. Not that he really needed to in a place like this, but still. "…the job IS Mina Mongoose. He wants us to kidnap Mina Mongoose."

The weasel was met with glazed expressions in return.

He sighed.

This one is gonna be fun, I can tell.