The Mobian Agenda

A VALVe/Archie Crossover

By TrueVulcanRaven

Rated: T for Language, Violence

Legal Notice: I do not own these characters. They are copyright Sega, Archie, or VALVe.

"Echoes of City 17"

Gordon slowed down when he heard more SWAT unit chatter. He crouched low, doing his best to minimize the noise caused by his footsteps. From what little he could make out, he was coming upon a security checkpoint, manned by at least five SWAT 'Bots. After fine tuning the sensitivity of the microphones in his helmet he was able to pick up their conversation.

"Incoming transmission," one droid spoke, gaining fully the attentiveness of the other units. "Source: Central Control. Priority: Urgent."

"Central Control to Detention Facility Checkpoint DC-3. Contact lost with patrol unit in nearby sector. Caution: high possibility of hostile engagement."

"Acknowledged."

The androids whirled one hundred and eighty degrees around simultaneously to locate the source of the affirmation. They were greeted by white-hot plasma from the rifle Gordon had commandeered. Once he was sure they were down, he hopped over the waist-high wall to search for ammunition. Gordon then stored the extra magazines in once of the many compartments in his suit. A suspicious-looking storage unit in the back of the room caught his wary gaze. He couldn't help but smile after he had forced it open.

Jackpot.

After choosing a pistol-type sidearm, Gordon traded in the pulse rifle he was carrying for a model that featured a zooming scope with increments to aid in adjusting for the effects of gravity. Above the rack of projectile weaponry was a shelf filled with plasma, fragmentary, smoke, and flash grenades. He grabbed four of each, making sure to memorize which storage pocket contained what type. His eyes then wandered to a small, padded package and what looked like its accompanying remote trigger, invitingly labeled "For Emergency Usage Only."

I'll definitely be keeping that handy.

He adjusted the strap on the little parcel and slung it over his right shoulder. The sudden burst of a klaxon nearly made him jump out of his hazard suit.

"Attention! Checkpoint DC-3 compromised!" The hollow, emotionless voice rang out over the P.A. system. "All SWAT personnel on full alert! Investigate! Prosecute! Eliminate!"

A wry smirk danced on his face.

Business as usual.

Gordon climbed up onto a row of computer terminals on the left wall and ripped off the grating that covered an outlet in the facility's ventilation system. From past experience he had learned that it was always better to have the jump on foes in superior numbers as opposed to meeting them head on. He pulled the grating back into place and began to crawl. Every so often he paused at a ceiling-mounted vent cover, hoping to see or overhear anything vital to his mission. It finally dawned on him that he had not seen a living being in this whole prison. All the cells he had passed thus far were utterly vacant. The sudden realization did not sit well with the scientist.

A smattering of blood here, a torture chamber or two there, and this place could be Nova Prospekt.

He shuddered as he recalled the horrors he had witnessed while journeying through that terrible place on his way to rescue Dr. Vance. His mind snapped back into focus at the sound of the only thing that could have comforted him at that moment: a human voice. The tone was defiant but tinged with fear at knowing that inevitably some vile fate awaited him.

"Hey, quit pushin', chrome-dome."

"Yeah, what's the hurry, assholes?"

Crack!

The sickening sound of what he correctly assumed to be the butt of a firearm meeting bone reached Gordon's ears.

"Uhhf!"

"Sonic!"

"Last warning. Prisoners will remain silent."

The physicist peered through the slits in the duct. He wasn't quite prepared to find out that the voices didn't belong to humans at all, but rather bipedal animals. The first in line was a rabbit, and judging from the surprisingly curvy figure, a female one at that. She wore a tight-fitting violet tube top and a pair of cut-off khaki shorts. One of her arms and both her legs appeared to be robotic prosthetics. The next one to pass by was a walrus, decked out in a gray vest, baggy jeans, and a red baseball cap. Third was a coyote. His navy uniform, which reminded Gordon of a member of a Royal Guard of some bygone European monarchy, had seen much better days, and his brown boots were well-worn. Gordon grew hot with anger when he looked into the eyes of the next individual who walked by.

He's only a kid.

The lad of which he spoke in his head was an orange two-tailed fox, clothed in a bloodstained gray t-shirt and denim shorts that looked like they hadn't been washed in ages. Behind him was another female, a chipmunk with shoulder-length red hair. She was garbed in a simple blue vest, similarly colored boots, and brown shorts. In a pitch so low that only she and Gordon (with the help of his suit) could make out, she offered calming words to the young boy. The final member of the troupe was a blue hedgehog. Judging from the long gash on the side of his head, he was the one that had gotten a little too rowdy for the SWAT 'Bots' likings. He wore a red vest and jeans, and on his feet were a pair of strange-looking sneakers.

Each prisoner was escorted by two SWAT units, except for who he assumed to be Sonic. He had six. All of them bore the same furious and indignant look on their faces, refusing to reveal physically the dread that was pent up inside of them.

"Relevant data secured," the Mark V spoke in his ear. "Possible match with prison records."

What the hell?

He then remembered Dr. Kleiner mentioning something about a new hardware addition that allowed the suit to interact with wireless-capable computers. He assumed the A.I. must have synched up with the machines back at the security station. The profiles of the individuals below him flashed across his H.U.D.

"Good God, they're all kids," Gordon whispered to himself.

"Indeed, they are," an even, feminine voice assured him over his suit's radio.

Freeman bit his tongue to keep from gasping in shock.

"Who are you? And how did you get this frequency?" Freeman asked, keeping his voice low.

"Time for a full explanation is a luxury that neither you nor I can afford at the moment, Dr. Freeman. All that you need to know right now is that you can trust me."

Gordon was incredulous. "And why is that?"

"Because I am the one who hired you," a hint of impatience was starting to show in her voice. "I'm a super computer created in the not-so-distant future by Rotor, the walrus you saw walk past. I belong to Sally."

"The redhead?" Gordon guessed.

Did a computer just sigh at me?

"Yes, that is correct. Please, Dr. Freeman, it is imperative that you not allow them to reach the roboticization chamber. The loss of those six would be more than enough to break the will of the resistance."

"I'll do my best." Gordon's anxiety lessened noticeably after she had finished. "Do you have a name by any chance?"

"Call me Nicole."

"Well, Nicole," he said as he focused to unfasten the ventilation duct lid. "I'm sure it will be a pleasure working with you."

"Likewise, Dr. Freeman."