I know how to heal.
I know what to show,
And what to conceal.
I know when to talk,
And I know when to touch.
No-one ever died from wanting too much...
--"The World Is Not Enough". Lyrics by Don Black.
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On the table were twelve flat-screen monitors. On the screens were twelve of the highest-ranking generals and commanders of G.U.N. On their shadowy faces were scowls.
Before all the equipment, which spread a tangle of cables around the empty room like tree roots was a single tiny camera mounted on a tripod. The prosecutor – a grim faced soldier born to match his harsh, blue uniform – paced before the lens, leafing through a file as he prepared his statement.
"2208 hundred hours: hull breach was reported and an intruder detected entering the underground facility." His eyes slid down the page. "2215 hours: Level 7 security is breached. Scorpion Legion's BX-3 Heavy-Assault Walker, codename "Hotshot" is dispatched to eliminate intruder. 2217 hours: Hotshot reports that the shadow creature had been liberated and exhibiting hostile behavior. All communications with walker pilot lost."
He closed the booklet, folded back his hands and stood at crisp attention before the camera. "Security tapes confirmed the intruder as The Doctor. Stealth Hoverpods were dispatched and confirmed a general area of retreat to be the Samo Desert. The creature was not detected.
"2347 hours: G.U.N. high-command commissions a reconnaissance mission to perform preliminary exploration before risking further casualties in combat. Mission objective was to locate and infiltrate the terrorist outpost within the Samo Desert and uncover all known information regarding Project Shadow and The Doctor's interest in the research. G.U.N. Intelligence Division dispatched Espionage Agent Ninety-One.
"The operation was to be primarily covert, but if deemed necessary, Agent was instructed to pose as a mercenary in effort to access the inner terrorist network." He went to his notes again and hummed – something had caught his attention. "One of four chaos emeralds held in G.U.N. security was allotted as a bargaining tool."
The prosecutor returned the folder behind his back and stepped out of camera range. "Things didn't work quite as planned, did it, Ninety-One?"
Rouge the Bat looked up from her nails and gave the camera a bored stare. They most certainly did not.
The room was long and empty besides the video-link equipment. Not much light either, but though lacking in colour, Rouge picked up everything in sharp contrast. A technician behind all the staring monitors; her inquisitor to her right; a door to her far left flanked by half-a-dozen armored guards and two GUN-Hunters. Even through the reinforced glass behind, her sensitive ears heard the putter of armed Hoverpods. My, they certainly were being careful…
She raised her hands and let her 'jewelry' chains rattle. "Mind if we loose the cuffs, Commander?" she smiled sweetly, offering the manacles for removal. "Business before pleasure, after all."
One of the generals on screen spoke up. "Commander, I was informed this was a debriefing exercise. Would you explain the reasoning behind your less than civil treatment of this agent?"
Rouge flashed a sexy smile at her advocate.
The Commander, however, was hardly intimidated. "I realize my methods are unorthodox, Sir – illegal, perhaps – but I would ask the officers of this council to accept these … precautions as a necessary procedure, considering the sudden reclusive nature of Agent 91."
The bat rolled her eyes. "Officers of the council," she began, parroting his rigid protocol, "perhaps the Commander has failed to inform, but as a field agent, my work is quite dangerous." The bat crossed her shackled legs and took an uppity pose. "Look, everyone likes their privacy – even Robotnik. And when you send someone like me to snoop on them, and they figure out who you really are, you can't expect they'll just let you fly off without a thought."
"And that is your defense?"
Rouge pointed her nose right up at the Commander's face and spoke with all manner of seriousness. "Robotnik's obsessive – He won't stop until I'm dead." Then she leaned back, stretched her wings and arched her body in a big yawn. "I guess I should know," she said indifferently.
He nodded back. "Yes, you must have quite some insight, given your recent work with The Terrorist."
Rouge huffed out her disgust. Everyone, even G.U.N. said his name in Italics: Him, or The Terrorist, or The Mastermind Behind The Robot-Related Attacks. All the plebs knew him as The Doctor. Oooh, how scary... It was fear, she thought sneeringly, and she was proud to be above such childish whimpering.
But Rouge had come to realize that it was not just fear of a man – It was fear of a name, and of a family. She knew now that Robotnik's blood ties were corporal, and that history as she'd learned through the news and in school was a lie. The Doctor was a threat that had to be denied and silenced; not only for the danger he created, but also for the mistakes of the past he brought to light.
The cold partaker of those evils fifty years ago went on addressing her and the monitors.
"The interpretation of your absence is acknowledged, Ninety-One. However, I wish to submit another explanation."
Rouge did not let any worry surface.
"Officers of the council, with your approval, I would put forward a video recording for your consideration." The technician was already preparing the feed as the Generals gave their authorization.
The Commander stepped behind her with a grim smile. "Care to watch?" A remote control surfaced in his hand, and with a click, each of the twelve monitors split, dividing the transmission between its General and the new evidence.
"This is an interview conducted several weeks ago by myself with one of the survivors of Prison Island," he announced for the officers.
The twelve half-screens resolved into a white hospital setting. A young man stared at Rouge from a bed – a brace around his neck and fresh stitching over his raw, ruined face. He was weary and defeated. A Commander several weeks younger focused the camera and asked the man for his name and rank.
The patient forced his mouth to speak. "Private Dean Bellows. Armed Walker Corp. Mantis Legion, sir." His voice still carried the cold maturity of the armed forces, despite the injuries hindering his speech.
The Commander fired into questioning immediately. "You were stationed on Prison Island, were you not, Dean?"
"Yes sir."
"So you were on duty during the first attack and the subsequent?"
"Yes sir."
"Can you tell me, Dean, where you were stationed during the second terrorist assault?"
"Internal Security, sir. I was protecting the compound interior, sir."
"Your injuries, Dean. You sustained them in action?"
"Yes sir. My Walker crashed, sir."
The Commander made a sympathetic grunt. "Dean, I have here your medical history – it says here that … well, apparently your injuries were quite extensive." The voice casually listed off the damage. "Broken nose, fractures, … multiple facial lacerations …… You broke three vertebrae?"
The young pilot looked away, hurt. "Yes sir," he said painfully.
"You won't walk again, will you, Dean?"
A deep breath – to keep back some powerful emotion. "… No sir."
Rouge rolled her eyes and turned back to her nails.
"Dean, I understand this is hard – you've suffered much – but I need you to stay with me. … Can you do that Dean? … Good. I only have a few more questions. … Now, according to what transmissions we could salvage, you were sent to deal with an internal breach, were you not?"
"Yes sir. I was dispatched to engage an intruder detected within the Security Hall."
Rouge darted away from her nails with wide eyes. Oh … Shit …
"And so you engaged The Doctor?"
"No sir, I did not."
Rouge forced her heavy eyelashes down. She slowed her breathing. Casually, she slipped her nail into the handcuff springs, testing…
"You did not?" the Commander repeated with mock surprise. "Well then, you must have engaged his accomplice – the black, anthropomorphic creature?"
"No sir, I did not."
Both her wrists and ankles were snared, and a long chain linked the cuffs. It was not above her strength…
"A robot then – one of The Doctor's combat machines?"
"No sir, the intruder was not a robot, sir."
But what next? The GUN-Hunters were activated… The windows were strengthened glass…
"Well then," the Commander said after another break. "Can you describe the intruder?"
She was trapped.
"Can you describe your assailant, Dean?"
The young man's face clenched and his eyes narrowed and stared straight into the camera. And Rouge recognized those same eyes, glaring at her from underneath a flight-helmet, just before she kicked through his cockpit's canopy and sent a sharpened boot through his face.
"Yes sir, I can."
Shit, shit, shit…
The twelve faces transmitting live from undisclosed locations were no longer scowling – they were in restrained shock. Not even the highest echelon of military command and discipline could restrain their eyes from widening or their hunched forms from shuffling and muttering to one another as the young soldier gave a flawless description of Espionage Agent 91.
In the commotion, Rouge gave her chains a last, desperate rattle. No use – back to talk, at least in here... The Commander strolled into camera range and into her face.
"You reported that The Doctor left you aboard the ARK."
Truthfully, she was starting to worry, but Rouge simply took her emotions and fueled them into a drama. "I didn't want to do it!" she blurted. "I – I had to – He would have killed me if I didn't!"
"And you felt no provocation to warn Prison Island beforehand – so they might prepare for your little raid?"
She dropped her hands and gave an indignant gasp for the cameras. "Don't you think that was the first thing on my mind? Look, he never left me alone! I couldn't get a chance to report…"
"Not even when you were on the Island – while the Doctor was busy preparing you a 'distraction'?"
"He had that Shadow freak following me; that Psycho wouldn't leave me alone!"
"Well then, you must have much more to report regarding Project Shadow, given all your intimate time together."
Rouge snarled. "Maybe if you didn't have your goons drug me and chain me up like a criminal, I'd have time to write you a proper report! I told you everything I could find out!"
"Really? Everything you could possibly uncover. My, my, my – you truly must have been tightly cornered." He flipped through his folder and pulled out the recorded dialogue of previous interrogations.
"Let's see here … confirmation of chaos energy manipulation. … "Chaos Control", "Chaos Spear", "Super Shadow" … some notes about a questionable psychology … Shadow is obsessed, Shadow is deranged, Shadow is a "head-case", Shadow dreams of little girls……" He looked at her dubiously. "Interesting."
Rouge wondered if she could strangle the man with her chains – take him as a hostage.
"Yet, I'm still curious, Ninety-One, was this truly the "Ultimate Lifeform", your terrorist friend…"
"MY FRIEND! That's slander, you …" She tossed a few ugly names out along with her proper decorum. This wasn't a debriefing – this wasn't even a tribunal! She was being set up as his scapegoat!
The Commander ignored her lost manners and carried on. "…Truly the Ultimate Lifeform theorized to possess immortality? I don't see much here regarding your primary mission … in fact, I don't see much here at all."
The Commander strolled to her back, tapping his folder on her head as he sauntered. Rouge denied all impulses to snap his neck. The military officer signaled for his technician to use a wide-view on the camera while his fingers played with the cord of the window blinds.
"Let's take a look at the actual results of your mission."
The roller blinds retracted to let in the dark, cloudless skyline of Corvalis, the Capital City. Tonight was a Full Moon, or, at least it should have been. The pale disc of light shone less brightly with a good quarter of its face eaten off by the Eclipse Cannon.
This was all planned out, Rouge fumed as the moonlight caught her in an accusing glow. Her wings flapped to fan her rising temper. He even waited for the right evening to set me up!
At the window, the Commander remained awhile, looking into the broken Moon. "Do you know what I see?" He inquired somberly. "I see lists of casualties come into my office every day. I see crates filled with the names and stats of soldiers we lost in one week.
"I see young men and women lying as ashes on a slag mound that used to be our finest military facility. I see a robotic combat division halved; I see a military reduced by a quarter of its manpower. I see a public confidence shattered and I see a terrorist waiting on our border to strike and conquer."
His fist slammed the glass. "And all for this!" He snatched a crumpled paper from his folder and thrust its crinkled lettering to the camera. The Biolizard gave a toothless snarl.
"A monthly status report on a dead prototype whose carcass burned up on re-entry!"
The folder flew to the ground, tossing papers to the air. Rouge suspected he'd been aiming for her.
"Members of this council, we have sent teams up to the ARK, and it is truly a catastrophe: all computer systems aboard the colony have been wiped clean – Standard flush procedure we've observed The Doctor perform when he abandons an outpost. His Pyramid Base was similarly evacuated – and rigged with explosives. Ten good soldiers were lost exploring the station.
"And perhaps our only hope of salvation – the Eclipse Cannon – is damaged beyond repair! With some irony, I must regretfully confess that the Colony truly is nothing more orbital slag.
"Councilors, in summary: our reconnaissance mission has not only been a total disaster, it has left us weaker than where we started. The knowledge we possessed regarding Project Shadow: the experimental remnants aboard the ARK, on Prison Island, and within the creature – the potential benefits they presented to this organization and to our nation, are lost. What has not been incinerated is now in the sole possession of The Doctor."
He strode about the floor a moment, and gave a final, disgusted look at Rouge.
"Officers of this council, I propose to you that Espionage Agent Ninety-One is either notoriously incompetent, or treacherous."
The generals fell to silent contemplation. The Commander stepped back and let the guilty take the spotlight. Rouge looked between them and slammed her boot down.
"What is this?" she snapped. "Do you think you can just set me up – make me the bad guy? That you can put a bounty on my head when I don't show up for work every day? I did my job – and maybe I didn't do things by the book, but I got things done! I saved your lives up there when that Colony started to fall! I threw away everything," gem shards thrown to the floor rang in her ears, "and this is what I get! I'm suddenly worse than Robotnik!"
"That's enough, agent…"
"I'll say whatever I damn please, Commander – my defense seems a bit lacking!"
"That will be enough, Rouge!"
The sudden sound of her name across the monitors brought her rage to a standstill. The generals waited for her to be seated.
"This council has heard enough. Espionage Agent Ninety-One, regardless of what alliance you have or have not shared with The Doctor, the lacking results of your mission have been obvious. You have failed to provide any further insight to the Project Shadow."
Rouge fumed. Everyone was against her. Traitors.
"Furthermore, your actions – or your lack thereof – have contributed to the deaths of over six-thousand soldiers and civilians, the crippling of this military organization, and the desecration of a landmark shared by all nations and people of this planet.
"We have reviewed your history with this organization, and while you are accredited for your ruthlessness and your target-fixation, your sheer negligence for all others has become a detriment we can no longer afford.
"This council has come to a verdict: Espionage Agent Ninety-One is hereby withdrawn from the Intelligence Division of the Guardians of the United Nation."
A great weight hammered through the air and through the chained bat.
Withdrawn.
You didn't just leave the spy game – not when you knew the secrets and structures of the mighty G.U.N. At least, not outside of a body-bag.
Shit.
There was further verdict: charges of treason; talk of the execution of "A Chief Accomplice To The Terrorist"; some smidgen of public relations that would be restored when she hung from the gallows. Rouge tuned it all out.
Because that was not going to happen.
Her nails would fit the locks. No one had thought to touch her steel-laced footwear. Now all she wanted was the perfect moment.
The monitors flickered out, leaving the impressive G.U.N. logo on their screens. Rouge just hung her head in misery while the guards leveled their laser sights on her and strung her manacles into the arms of the two robot foot soldiers.
The mechanical chain gang clomped out of the room and to the freight elevator at the end of the hallway. On the top floor of the safe-house, more soldiers in swat-gear and more GUN-Hunters trailed their weapons on her, leading her to the rooftop exit with a procession of laser scopes. All this for little ol' me? She grinned, comparing herself to a celebrity escorted to a gala. Her face, however, remained downward and lowly – the impression of defeat.
And it remained that way until they took her outside, where awaited a heavy-armored helicopter, heavy-powered weaponry, and a sniggering weasel in a flowing trench coat.
Rouge lunged at the rat, flying to the limit of her chains and snapping to the ground. The bounty hunter pulled up the brim of his shabby hat and gave her a toothy grin.
"Hey Red," he sneered in his nasal and heavily accented drawl. "How's it hangin'?"
Rouge spit his name across her mouth. "Fang the Sniper, you slimy piece of …"
"WHOA!" he squeaked in his ratty voice. "Yeh gat some mouth dere, Red. Ahm jus' doin' mai civic dooty 'an helpin' out wit security 'ere."
The robots were dragging her off the ground and toward the copter, but Rouge pulled against her chains and toward the hunter who had finally caught her. "You weasel! They aught to drag you in and gut you up! Everyone knows your Robotnik's favorite!"
Hands in his pockets, Fang followed as they robots took her up the boarding ramp. "No wun cares about a small-timer like me anymoire, Red. Nat when tey gat teh Doc's favorite lady. By da way, get any emeralds?"
Rouge lunged one last time, snapping her teeth at his nose. The weasel was just out of reach, but she made him squawk anyway. She thought it a small compensation for the tazers he'd used.
Then the GUN-bots seized her and pulled her into the cargo bay with them. Three more soldiers piled in for security. The doors slammed shut.
The rotary blades accelerated, and the armed aircraft began its lift-off, escorted through the sky by a squad of Hoverpods. Nack the Weasel held his hat to his heart and waved a mocking farewell.
"Sayonara, Rouge teh Bat! I'll check if anywun misses ya, Red!"
When the air currents had died down, a stern faced military commander approached the seedy looking bounty hunter. "Mai rekards clean?" the weasel inquired gruffly.
The Commander handed over the last copy of the hunter's criminal offenses. "As per your negotiations, Sniper. You've saved this organization a good deal of money on that bounty."
Nack nodded with half-attention as he flipped through his record, taking a semi-disturbing trip down memory lane. "An teh license?"
A small identification card exchanged hands. "Welcome to the Hunter's Guild of the United Provinces," the Commander commended. "I think you'll find tracking state-posted bounties to be a profitable venture."
"Until da Doc takes over you guys," the weasel added slyly.
The Commander bowed over the half-sized anthropomorph. "Be careful what you say, bounty hunter. You have just as much potential to share her fate."
Nack stared right up at the commander with his grinning overbite. He held the folder up for the military man's inspection, and tore it in half, in quarters, and in eighths before his face.
"Nat anymore," he sneered, releasing the ribbons to the wind. "Ahm a new weasel."