04: Contagion

Day 02

2:30 AM

Southern Gilded Forest

The forest took on lighter shades of green when bathed in moonlight. It was windless, and so quiet that the scratching turn of a page could be heard, by the right ears, meters away – well into the cover of darkness.

The page-turner's lime green eyes scanned across the page idly. The pale light played in strange ways on his black fur, highlighting the bright green streaks running through it; the bending of the light caused it to appear strangely alive. He paid no attention. To him the forest was anything but silent – his long ears rotated to catch every shift of every leaf on the forest floor. Not to mention the crackling shatter of a nearby acorn under a boot. The jackal's ear twitched – that had been the sixth time it happened. It was time to deal with this trash.

He closed his book with a snap and stood. "You have thirty seconds to show yourself," he said. "Or I'll kill you where you stand."

After ten lingering seconds a figure emerged from behind a tree trunk opposite him. His sharp eyes made out clearly that this figure was an effeminate one – slim, and softly shaped. Her clothing was dark and close-fitting, though it was ribbed with light armor, much like his own suit. Her face, however, was shrouded in the dark hollow of the hood hanging over her face. A long, tail rose behind her, covered with long fur – black lined with a long white stripe. A sickly sweet perfume wafted into the air around him.

"No need to take that tone." Her voice was a purr. She walked toward him – rather boldly, for someone who had been threatened with death mere moments before – with a sway in her hips. "Just passing through, same as you."

Surely she didn't expect him to believe that.

She walked in a slow circle around him, a shark circling prey. "What's a pretty little thing like you doing here, all alone so late at night?" She came close enough to brush the tip of her tail under his chin as she passed.

"I was wondering the same thing," he growled.

"No need to be rude, just…" there was a soft metallic shhing as she unsheathed a small knife. "Personal business."

He whirled around and struck out as he placed the sound. The blow just grazed her as she jumped back, immediately on guard.

"Assassin."

"No need to take that tone." Unlike the coquettish voice she used before, this was chilled. She inspected her dagger and a moment later she produced another. He picked his helmet up from beside his pack on the ground and donned it – if she wanted a fight she would get one.

The assassin leapt upward, pulling herself up onto a tree branch. They sized each other up for a moment – the jackal saw that she was slim, agile, and armed with blades she clearly knew how to handle; yet, she hadn't much muscle, thus she was probably rather fragile. Easy, then, to wear down.

She disappeared in a single jump into the leaves overhead. He waited, ears turned the direction of the incessant rustling, until she dropped almost silently down behind him. He turned and deflected yet another stab to the back. She rolled backwards, perhaps going to escape, but he was suddenly right on her and delivered a sharp blow to the ear. She skidded away and held her head, disoriented, but came to her senses just as quickly and prepared her daggers again. When he came close she slashed out at him in a wide arc – she was quicker than he expected, and the tip of one blade tore through his clothes just below his ribcage. No matter. He was tired of this before it started and, unfortunately for her, didn't feel much like playing anymore.

It was undoubtedly a rude surprise for the assassin when he struck out and seized her neck with one hand. She grabbed at it uselessly as he lifted her from the ground. "Now that I have your attention. Who sent you here and why? If you tell me now I might even spare you."

She twisted, struggling rather valiantly, but could not free herself. "The… the capitol… said you were too much… a threat…"

The jackal's green eyes went cold. "Petty Mobians. Thinking I care about your petty war games." He drove four claws into her stomach. Withdrawing them, he released her neck and let her fall to the ground. The wound fizzled with what he knew to be acid; the stuff dripped from his claws. This was the reason he called himself Corroder. "Let that be a warning to the capitol and rebels alike. I side with no one."

He vanished into the trees, and left the woman, clutching at her wound, for dead.


In this chapter:

Corroder the Jackal

Belladonna the Skunk

Sorry I didn't update yesterday (and am updating so late today). I don't have access to the internet 24/7 (and missed my window yesterday) but I had the chapter written, so double update today. Hopefully that won't happen again.

And yeah, I probably miss a bunch of errors and typos. Thank you guys for pointing them out to me so I can fix them, I appreciate it!

Some of these chapters might get rewritten at later dates, but we'll see how that goes.

Critique + review!

- Mistress Antithesis


Next time: Return to Knuckles and Team Tempest, where another challenger shows up to make a mess of things.