The Mobian Chronicles

Book I

Chapter V: 'The Search'

Market Square had been a part of life in Mobotropolis for more than a generation. When a fire had wiped out a section of city, the monarchy leveled the ruins, squared it off and designated it as a commerce center, letting the people remake it with their own hard earned money. It was a self-paying, self-fulfilling project that had earned Civic Science Minister Taylor Dalmarch great respect.

As the name implied, Market Square was a series of progressively smaller sets of squares, moving towards the center of the rebuilt city section. Each square was lined with shops on both sides, and wide avenues for citizens to pass to the next tier of shops. Thousands of enterprising citizens had built and rented stalls to sell anything and everything, and depending on the seller and their ability to hide in the packed crowds, one could find anything from the incredibly mundane to the highly illegal on sale.

For one Mobian fox, shouldering his way through the wall to wall crowds of Market Square, the highly illegal was exactly what he was hunting for. He was clearly not a local citizen in his heavier, cold-climate clothing. The fox's build, among many other things was hidden beneath the long, armored coat that was a symbol of his profession; bounty hunter.

In the late years of the Great War, bounty hunting came to prominence. As the world outside Mobotropolis became war-torn, the crown became increasingly unable to enforce the law. Those living in cities without a Royal Guard barracks often turned to vigilante justice when a serious crime was committed. Some particularly unsavory characters wound up with substantial prices on their heads. Bounty hunting was considered to be war profiteering by the royal family, and it was illegal within the borders of Mobotropolis. However, this did not necessarily mean they did not operate there.

"Rebecca, do you read me?" He raised a hand to his small earpiece to contact his handler.

"Loud and clear, Kurtis." A soft voice answered back. "The stall you're looking for is dead ahead. If my information is right, you knock five times fast, two times slow."

The fox did as instructed, tapping the closed shutter of a dirty, abandoned looking stall and leaning in to listen amid the noise of the packed crowds. A small hand, dirty and gray, slipped under the shutter from inside and lifted it slightly. "Yeah-yeah, who're you? Whatcha want?"

"Name's Kurtis Prower. I hear you sell information… and guns. I want some of the former. I want to ask you about a wolf named Vincenze Richelieu."

There was a moment of quiet wheezing from within the stall, and then the dirty hand began to close the shutter back. "Don't know any Kurtis, don't know any Vince. Go away."

Kurtis drew a thin, silvery handgun from his long coat and slid the barrel under the shutter before it could close completely; keeping his body close to the stall to hide his weapon from the passing crowds. "Maybe you know my friend, here."

There was another moment of soft, wheezing breaths inside. "Okay. Gimme a second and I'll let ya in. We'll talk in private."

Kurtis holstered his firearm and waited, trying to act as inconspicuous as possible in his conspicuous clothing. His patience wore thin after nearly a minute of silent waiting, and at the sound of a door creak and retreating footfalls, he'd finally realized that he'd been had. With subtlety no longer an option, he drew his gun again and shot off the shutter latch, dispersing the now panicked shoppers in the process. "Don't make me chase you!" He shouted after his fleeing informant on the other side, tearing open the damaged shutter to give chase.

As expected, the inside of the stall before him was bristling with illegal weapons. Guns of any kind were completely forbidden in Mobotropolis, but more pressing to Kurtis was the primed grenade, lying on the sill in front of him. The fox reflexively threw himself backwards, but the sudden blast sent him sprawling with far less grace than he'd intended.

He regained focus moments later, in the broken remains of a fruit stand opposite the now flattened stall. It had only been a concussion grenade, he realized as he staggered up through the nausea and pain. Faint rivulets of blood trickled from his ringing ears and burning nose, the capillaries ruptured from the concussive shock wave. He'd gotten sloppy, and survived by getting lucky on top of it. The informant had likely grabbed the first grenade he'd touched on the way out. From the weapons he'd seen before the stall collapsed in the explosion, it could have just as easily been something much more lethal.

Kurtis collapsed again as he slogged through the remains of the black market stall, his vision blurred and his balance shaky. "Rebecca!" he shouted into his earpiece microphone, all sense of loudness lost from the temporary ear injury. "He's getting away from me, on foot, north out of the markets! Cut him off and push him into the back alleys! Pick me up on the way if you can!" He was in no state to give chase until his head stopped spinning, and the now desolate marketplace would soon be crawling with Mobotropolis' ever-present Royal Guard. Things were about to get difficult.

A wheeled vehicle roared though the emptied marketplace at high speeds, turning to a screeching stop beside him. It was clearly Overlander-made, three large, wide wheels in a single track under the motorcycle-like chassis, armor plated and obviously heavily modified from whatever its original purpose may have been. The driver, a vixen of similar age and similar costuming sported an automatic weapon slung over one shoulder and a heavy pilot's helmet, likely modified from an Overlander piece as well. She helped her partner up and onto the cycle before revving the smoke-belching engine and taking off in pursuit of their target. "You okay?" Her voice came in through his headset, muffled slightly by her tight helmet.

"Yeah, yeah, I'll be all right." Kurtis withdrew a small hypodermic from a pouch on the side of the vehicle and took a shot of adrenaline in the arm to return him to peak performance. "There he is!" A shadow darted into a nearby alleyway and the roaring vehicle made a swinging turn to chase him through the narrow alleys. Motorized vehicles were not permitted in the city, but for those who operated outside the law in the first place, effectiveness trumped legality. "Run him down a dead end if you can, babe, I'll take to the roofs!" Kurtis stood up on the back of the motorcycle and took aim with a grappling gun at an overhead pipe connecting two buildings. The heavy cord wrapped around the pipe and deployed the hooks from its tip, biting into the pipe and releasing gouts of steam. With the momentum of the motorcycle beneath him, Kurtis leapt forward and retracted the line, swinging through the air in a tight arc and landing atop the rusty steam pipe with a loud clang. The adrenaline keeping pain and dizziness away, he ran across the pipe with trained balance and disengaged his ascension gun, returning it to his heavy belt beneath his coat.

It was then he got the first actual look at the Mobian they were after. He was a middle aged rat, short, stumpy, and putting on weight. His fur and clothing were dirty and grey, and he ran through the alleyways terrified, screaming at each piece of debris or wall he bumbled past in fear of what chased him. Kurtis flagged his companion down a nearby alley and drew his sidearm, racing over the broad, short rooftops of the poor district in pursuit. "He can't run forever, Rebecca! Shoot to wound, if you have to!"

The fleeing rat raced down the alleyways, blind as to his route and oblivious to all but the thought of escape. He turned into a three-way junction, and, skipping the dead end alley on his side, ran straight into the butt of Rebecca's gun, clocking him across the jaw as she sped by. He spiraled to the ground in pain, stunned, blood running from the corner of his dirty mouth. He spit a small tooth and rose again, despite the injury, heading back the way he came only to find a spray of automatic fire as the mounted hunter sped past again on the other side. "No! It's too fast!" He spun back, looking for escape; the only way out not covered by the vixen on the motorcycle was an old drain pipe to the roofs of the one-story buildings around him.

He barely got to head-height with the roof before the heavy toe of Kurtis' boot caught him under the chin, sending him back to the wet alley floor with a loud thud. "Hope you like having a concussion too, smart guy. I've got him, Rebecca." Kurtis slid down the pipe, landing next to the downed rat. "You gonna come quietly yet?"

The rat burst to his feet and made a dazed run for it out of the alley, only to stop back in the middle of the T-junction as Rebecca pulled to a stop on her motorcycle in front of him, weapon trained on him, her helmeted head shaking a negative to his attempt. With no way out except through the fox behind him, he drew a small pistol and spun to fire. A single shot rang through the alleyway, but it was not from his weapon. The rat stared down at his empty hand in wide-eyed disbelief; his handgun bent and mangled on the ground from a single, well-placed shot. With no choice left, he fell to his knees in surrender.

Kurtis blew on the barrel of his pistol and smirked smugly, twirling the gun in his hand and returning it to his coat with the same blinding speed that he had drawn it.

"I…I-I-I don't know nothin'!" The defeated rat whimpered. "I-I'm just a businessman!"

"Businessmen," Kurtis picked up the rat by his dirty suit collar and pressed him to the wall, stumpy legs kicking and flailing in the air, "don't grenade people for asking questions, I don't care what business they're in!" He shook the rat roughly, for emphasis. "You think I don't already know who you are, punk? You're Verkis Gadd, a small time weapons dealer and low-level information broker for organized crime! Punks like you can't even keep me in my lifestyle, I'm not here for a couple mobium some disgruntled dealer put on your head, and I already told you I just want information!"

Verkis panted, both relieved to not be the target he'd assumed to be, and to breathe through Kurtis' rough handling. "Ah… ah… alright! Okay! I-I do know Vince; he came by a few nights ago. He wanted to buy, but I didn't have what he wanted, and he couldn't pay anyway. He was runnin' from something, probably you…"

"What did he want to buy? What was he looking for?"

Verkis shook his head frantically, "I can't tell you that, I'm a broker! All my info is confidential, if I told people anything, no one would buy from me again! You'd ruin me!"

"I'll do more than ruin you if you don't talk." Kurtis gripped the rat by his neck and drew his gun, shoving the barrel down the rodent's gasping throat. "I'll kill you."

"Kurtis!" Rebecca took off her helmet, her long black hair falling free around her as she climbed off the motorcycle. "That's murder; we don't have a writ for this guy's death!"

In spite of her reasoning, Verkis was convinced enough to try to shake his head in a negative and gurgle a reply past the gun. "Then he'd better start talking." Kurtis slid the gun out of his mouth and menaced him with it.

"Okay! O-okay!" The rodent informant hit the floor of the alley with a thud and sat, catching his breath. "He wanted some information. Said somebody was after him, he wanted to know if I could smuggle him out of the kingdom." He shook his head slowly, eyes still locked on the barrel of the gun pointed at him. "I don't traffic people, and I don't know nobody who does, so I told him I couldn't help him. He left."

"Where did he go?"

"I don't know where he went! Undercity, probably! It's our name for the sewers. I don't go down there 'cause I don't wanna get killed, but I know guys like him sometimes go there to hide out." Verkis shrugged, working up a nervous chuckle. "It's… it's pretty dangerous down there, shouldn't go unprepared! Perhaps you'd like to peruse some of my fine merchandise… whatever didn't blow up…" There was an awkward pause as he cast a glance over the vulpine bounty hunter's shoulder. "…awww, for Harvester's sake…"

Kurtis turned to face an array of spear points and a number of Royal Guardsmen. "Mister Kurtis Prower." Their leader, a tall, teal-blue hedgehog removed his helmet and ran a hand through his quills, lowering his spear and trying back his unruly quills with a red bandana as he recited a memorized set of lines. "Captain Cole, Royal Guard Corps, Civic Division. His Majesty appreciates your role in capturing this wanted criminal, but regrets to inform you that as per the War Profiteering Act, Article Three, Section-

"I'm under arrest, yes, I know." Kurtis handed over his gun and put out his hands for restraint. "I've been through this a couple times, let's save the trouble."

"As you wish. We thank you for your cooperation." The hedgehog directed his subordinate to bind the bounty hunter's wrists, stepping back and putting a finger to the radio receiver in his ear. "Excuse me one moment." Captain Cole turned away to converse with the party on the other end of the line. The conversation seemed to be very one-sided, and not just because Kurtis could only hear the Captain's end.

"Captain Cole here. Yes. Yes sir, I have him right here, he's restrained and… But sir! I… he's right here! I have him; he's been arres… yes. Yes sir. But I don't understa… uh, yes. Yes sir. Immediately, sir. Cole out."

The guard captain gave a heavy sigh and turned, head shaking, to face his prisoner. He swiftly un-cuffed him and offered his firearm back. "Well, today must be your lucky day. You are free to go. Please leave the city as soon as possible."

"I'm a little… confused, here." Kurtis eyed the hedgehog with slight suspicion, holstering his returned gun.

"You're just letting us leave?" Rebecca received her helmet back from one of the guards; her bright eyes alight with curiosity. "That's not exactly what we're used to."

"Those are my orders, regardless. You are pardoned." Captain Cole adjusted his bandana for comfort and replaced his half-helmet, lowering the visor over his eyes. "I believe my superior will want to speak to you about it all, in due time."

"All right. I'd like to meet this guy." Kurtis climbed on the back of the motorcycle and kicked up the stand. "How do we get in contact with him?"

"He will get in contact with you."

----------

Far across the city, a gathering of figures unconcerned with the intrigues of criminals and political dealings were coming together. Princess Sally Acorn sat on the steps of the Forum Gardens, consulting her computer and waiting for her friends to arrive. She'd managed to find Sonic, and sent him to gather everyone else; whether he was reliable enough to do so was the question on her mind as she waited.

One by one, they came together. Sonic was the first to arrive, skidding to a screeching stop at the top of the steps and waving. "Hey! I did it! Everyone said they're on the way, even Antoine!" The short blue hedgehog took a seat on the marble steps beside his friend, tapping his sneaker-ed foot idly. "What's with the outfit? Come ta think of it, what are we doin' anyway? I'm missing lunch for this!"

"I'll explain once everyone is here, Sonic." Sally had shed her regal dress and tiara for a more practical set of blue boots, blue vest, and a gray backpack for the sake of their adventure. "I'm sorry to keep you from your lunch, but this is very important."

"Oui!" The piercing accent of Antoine D'Coolette preceded him as he descended the stairs, dressed in his finest blue jacket. Like most nobles, he wore a full set of clothes as a status symbol, though today he was noticeably missing his pants. "I would be liking to know, as well, why we are here. I will be in so much troo-ble when my father finds out I am missing my violin lesson, but there ees no troo-ble too great to keep me from aiding you, my highness!"

"Oh, brother..." Sonic rolled his eyes out of reflex. He'd barely understood a word, but that didn't stop his usual reaction to Antoine.

"Thank you, Antoine." Sally tried, as she often had to, to make up for Sonic's lack of manners but this time, she could not help but stifle a giggle. "But, um, where are your pants?"

"Ah!" The young coyote's eyes lit up in indignation as he pointed a finger at his blue-furred rival. "He should be the one you are to be asking! This, this, ah… fuel of a hedgehog, he drags me from my home before I am even dressing properly, weethout words one, and tells me I am to be meeting you here for some sort of… adventois."

"Ah know how ya feel, sugah." The equally thick accent of the other female member of their circle of friends announced the arrival of Bunnie Rabbot, clad in only a purple leotard. "Sugah-hog here grabbed me on mah way from ballet class, 'fore ah could even dress proper." She brushed the hair out of her eyes and shook her head, placing her hands on her hips. "Ah'm gonna miss mah etiquette lessons!"

"Wait for me!" Rotor Walrus half-ran, half-fell down the steps, arms full of gadgets, tools and papers. He strained to catch his breath as he presented the princess with everything he'd collected. "Ah, hah… I-I came as soon as I got your message! Haahhhh… am I too late?"

"Wait… Rotor?" Sonic raised an eyebrow. "Sally didn't send me after you…"

"I called him with Nicole, and told him everything while you were getting everyone else." Sally explained, motioning to her belt-holstered computer.

"Do you mind to be telling us?" Antoine complained. "The, how you say… wool on our eyes ees in the dark."

Sonic snickered in the back of the group. "That's NOT 'how you say'."

"Oh man…" Rotor continued to try to catch his breath as he explained, "Oh, man, its bad! Haaahh… Real bad! There's a… hah… oh, you do it!" He fell back and lay on the steps, panting.

Sally bowed her head slightly, the reality of what she was getting them into beginning to dawn on her. "I overheard my father in a meeting with General Katzenov. They were talking about one of the members of the council secretly working for the Overlanders. They don't know who, and it's ruining my father to worry about it so."

"But ah don' understand, Sally-girl," their yellow rabbit friend drawled, "The council's supposed to be on our side. Why would one of them be workin' for the bad guys?"

"I don't know, Bunnie." Sally shook her head slowly. But that's why I called you all here. I need your help to find this traitor so we can expose them. If they're not stopped, there's no telling what kind of damage will be done. We might lose the war because of them. I might be putting us all in danger…"

"Danjour? Ha!" Antoine dismissed the notion with a wave of his hand and a snort. "Nonsense! The D'Coolettes leeve for danjour! I am to be laughing upon the face of it!"

Sonic pinched his nose shut and repeated the coyotes' words in the same snooty manner. "Hah! You leave for danger all right!"

"Enough, Sonic! This is serious!" Sally stood up and paced back and forth in front of her friends. "If this person is working for the Overlanders, then there's no telling how far they'll go to keep that secret. They might try to kill us if they know we're on to them.

"Keel us? Ha!" Antoine dismissed the notion with a wave of his hand and a snort. The snort caught in his throat and he choked slightly when the reality hit him. "Eeeh… wait, as in… dead? Ahhhaah… I am just now remembering something I have to do! Oh! Is that my father calling for me? So sorry, must be going!" Sonic caught him by the back of his jacket as he rose and the coyote slumped back down, trembling slightly. "Ehehe… I mean, that ees to say, I will protect you, Your Majesty!"

"Ah'm not afraid of getting in to trouble if it's for you, Sally-girl, but wouldn't this be a matter for… say, the Royal Guard?"

"Normally it would be, Bunnie." Sally explained, "But my father doesn't want to use them because he can't afford to let the traitor know anyone is on to him. And besides, no one will suspect us. We're just kids. Please, guys." She held out her hand, palm down in the traditional togetherness gesture of her friends. "If not for my father, then for me?"

Sonic placed his hand on top of hers. "You know I will, Sal." Rotor and Bunnie quickly followed suit.

"You can count on me, Sally"

"Aw, think nothin' of it, sugah."

"Antoine?" A chorus of voices called for their less enthusiastic friend to join.

"Eeheh… erm… I am, how you say…"

"Antoine!"

The coyote timidly reached out and put his finger on top of the stack of hands. "I am een it, but my heart is to be having not."

"Thank you, Antoine." Sally paused, trying to parse his statement. "I… think. Thank you all. For better or worse, we'll get to the bottom of this. We're all in this together!"

----------

Far from the jubilant cheer of five children, on the outskirts of the city, another party was to begin the very same search. Inside a large, armored Overlander transport that had been converted to a home of sorts, Kurtis and Rebecca Prower tended to their equipment; and Kurtis' concussion.

"Enough! All right already." Kurtis pulled the ice pack off his head and discarded it on the floor. "Thing's just giving me a worse headache, give me some herbs to chew on and it'll be fine."

"I'll see what we have left, but you really should be using the ice on the back of your neck, not your forehead, Kurtis."

"My forehead is what hurts! The blast broke a plank of wood over it and I-" Kurtis was cut off by the sudden activation of a communications monitor on a nearby wall of the transport. A shadowy figure, features obscured by the darkness of the room he broadcast from, greeted them.

"Mr. and Mrs. Prower, I assume?"

Kurtis turned his chair to face the screen and eyed the figure with suspicion. "Who wants to know? How'd you get this frequency?"

The figure on the monitor struck a match, and lit a cigarette; the light of the flickering flame illuminated dark glasses and orange-and-black striped fur. "I am the reason you are in the comfort of your base of operations, and not a prison cell. I'm calling you on behalf of someone very important."

"You're the person who had us let off?" Rebecca looked up at the monitor, straining to make out features. "Who are you working on behalf of?"

"As I said, someone very important. He has tasked me with dealing with a problem that vexes him greatly. I want to hire the two of you to fix this problem." The dark figure spoke in an indeterminate accent, but his words were careful and slow.

"Tough luck, then. I'm on a job already, and it's personal." Kurtis reached for the controls. "Try someone else."

The shadowed figure took a puff of his cigarette. "I have an unlimited amount of financial resources to bring to bear. You may name your price upon completion."

Rebecca and Kurtis shared a glance at one another, deliberating without words. She was the first to speak. "Who's the target?"

"That is up to you to find out." Another long, thoughtful exhalation of smoke obscured the figure. "A member of the Mobian Scientific Council is guilty of selling military secrets to our enemies. I want you to find out who it is. Due to my own position, I cannot be involved. I have never spoken to you, and will disavow any knowledge of this conversation. You'll not be bailed out again should you make a mistake."

Kurtis nodded slowly. "Okay, pal you've got me. You want this person dead, or alive?"

"Dead. No witnesses. This is a highly sensitive matter, Mr. Prower. You get your money when I read the headline." He exhaled a large puff of smoke that obscured the camera with inky haze before the transmission ended.

"Do you think he's legit, Kurtis?"

The fox chuckled, shaking his head slightly. "Yeah, he's a big-time government guy for sure. There's no reason someone would want a random council member assassinated, especially if we're supposed to find evidence of wrongdoing. If he was using us, he'd have named a name instead."

"That's not what worries me." Rebecca shook her head and sat down to clean her sidearm. "When we're done, will he pay us, or kill us?"

"I get the feeling he's not someone we get to say 'no' to. I think we just basically got drafted to do this, like it or not." Kurtis rubbed the bridge of his muzzle and stretched. "We know Vince is in the city too. If we're lucky, we'll take him down on the way. We're just gonna have to play this one by ear."