Disclaimer: Well, damn....-.- -sigh- Sonic and all the occurring furries do not belong to me, they belong to rich people. I'm not rich, if you haven't noticed. If I was rich, I'd have a pool. A really, really big pool. Like football field sized pool....and...I'd fill the pool with............pudding.
Nameless Muse: You can't swim in pudding.
I don't care.
Sonic: Freak.
Silence rodent!!! -looks to readers- Yes, yes I know, I'm on a kind of updating spree, though it took me a little longer than I planned to get this chapter up, and my special dedication, now named Beyond Blue Skies isn't going to be up for a while. And the way it's going, I'll have another long series on my hands. Plus I'm kind of twisting Disappear into even more of an AU than it already is. But hey, at least I'm working on my stories and not killing people or overdosing on drugs or something, right? ....Right??
Daxter: I dunno...what do you call that powered stuff you keep under your mattress?
O-O How in heck did you get in here?!?
Daxter: .....actually....I have no idea...
Morte: Welcome to my world...-.-
Shadow: Why does it have to be me she's obsessed with? Why?! Why not Knuckles, or Mighty, or Remington--
Remington: Leave me out of this. -.-
Chapter Seven - Seeking Out Some Help
You forgot about all
You've left behind
It's all on the table
And you wonder why
You can't hurt any more
Your emotions just can't
Be seen in light
You're lost in here
You just disappear
- Greenmill's 'Disappear'
When one wants to find certain sort of person, one usually has to go to a certain sort of place. If you wanted to meet and talk with a person who knew a lot about the written word, one would probably go to a library or bookstore, or even a print-shop. If you wanted to locate a person who was well experienced with all types of metal, you could look for a modern day blacksmith, or the people who work in car factories. However, if you're looking for someone with a high constitution, a taste for alcohol, and greed for money, there was only one place in Station Square you could search and find them for sure.
The Red Angel.
The Red Angel was a stylish sort of place, positioned in the back streets of the city, down an alley. It had scarlet imitation silk curtains of questionable legitimacy draped over its windows, and ten well-polished, wooden tables placed throughout its interior. Five rotating stools adorned the service counter and the tiled floor was inexpensive. The floor was, naturally, easy to clean, in case of sickness from alcohol poisoning–which happened often–and anyone who fell into a drunken stupor was promptly dumped outside in the abandoned alleys on either side of the establishment.
But in the far corner of the room was where the real excitement was.
This table was reserved for drinking challenges, but not just any sort. Only the most serious and steadfast alcoholics could join these games, pool their money in the center of the table, and down the fiery spirits used in the games again and again for almost unlimited bouts of cash. One needed amazing willpower, a heavy wallet, and a stomach of pure iron for this sort of sport.
"Alright gentlemen, place your bets."
Rouge.
Her voice sliced clearly through the bar's drunken clatter as easily as a hot knife goes through butter. Anyone still partially sober with money in his pockets addled over to the far table, all grinning like loons. It was just a little femme, right? How hard could it be to out-drink her?
The reigning champion grinned as the first three suckers approached her table, their leers making it obvious that they had taken her bait. She brushed down her white fur and grinned toothily. She would be making easy money tonight. Still smiling, Rouge poured the blood-red liquor and pushed the clear glass towards her night's first victim.
"Hey there, babe," The customer across the table winked. "Howza bout you and me go out after this lil' contest. My treat..."
He was a ferretish sort of anthro, maybe a weasel, with a dark, almost black hair that would have been much more attractive if it wasn't highlighted with a flurry of grey streaks. Premature aging probably ran in his family, since he didn't look much older than about the early thirties. Or maybe his job was exceedingly stressful, as his expensive, tailored-to-fit, suit suggested; though it was stained with over-priced alcohol, and starting to smell fairly bad. Rouge had to fight to keep her sensitive nose from wrinkling and maintain the smile.
After all, I've smelled worse. She grumbled inwardly, hoping it wouldn't take her nearly as long as usual to become drunk.
It didn't.
In fact, it took maybe two hours or so before all the contestants were lying on the floor, completely smashed. A record for them, since most lines went out within the hour. Rouge however, was used to such strong drinking, and unsurprisingly still kept her movement skills
"Barkeep! Another round for these fine gentlemen." She slurred, patting the smashed ferret on the back, since he'd gone unconscious at the table. "They tried their best, though it wasn't quite good enough."
The bartender rolled his eyes and poured the glasses, knowing full well that Rouge intended to drink them all herself. It was her normal routine, flirt with a few drunkards, make a wad of cash at the back table, then order as many drinks as she could hold, a.k.a. a lot, and leave her sorry contenders, drunk and most often penniless, to pick up her tab.
Another uneventful night.
Rouge was swaying back to her table, her arms full of the brimming glasses, the spilled spirits making a zigzagging trail of liquor that led to the slumped bodies of the intoxicated challengers. However, no sooner had she set the cups down and started to take her seat, did the door swing open sharply on its rather rusted, and heavily oiled, hinges. The night immediately became anything but normal.
The barkeep looked up, reaching already ready for another glass to fill, expecting a late night/early morning costumer to walk through the open doorway. Even when he didn't see someone he knew, he kept his hand at the empty cup, ready for the newcomer to belt out his order like most did before they even sat down.
While the human bartender did not know who the stranger, Rouge recognized him in a second. The wide-brimmed, tattered fedora pulled down over his face to hide his eyes and the long, thick quills which had lengthened over the brief half-year did little to throw her off. She remembered the burning crimson fur and graceful stance so well that she barely had to look to see him walking into the bar. She could imagine the amethyst eyes searching through the room, and hoped against hope that it wasn't her he was seeking out.
She literally felt his gaze lock on her and froze to her spot for a minute, terror flickering over her expression. He took a single step in her direction and, almost at once, she broke out of her trance. Unexplainable fear built up in her stomach and tightened her chest before she lost complete control. She chucked the nearest two glasses at him as hard as she could and fled without looking back, deducing from the pain and anger-filled cry that she'd made her mark.
Of course, he gave chase.
Rouge darted in around him in a wide berth and leapt over the bar counter, hearing the chase behind her as he followed her lead. She, however, had an edge, since she knew the building better than he did and probably ever would. The Red Angel was her territory. She dashed through a half-hidden door which lead to the storage of alcohol, and beyond that, the empty warehouse that had due for an 'any-day-now' tear down for at least the last two years.
She kicked over boxes and knocked down shelves, knowing he would have to slow down a little to avoid getting hurt. In this enclosed atmosphere, there wasn't enough aerial movement for her to use her wings, but he would probably use his little gliding trick at any time. Deciding to keep moving, Rouge took a sharp turn and weaved behind a tower of crates, holding her breath until she heard his footsteps go past. Then she silently made her way to the small exit in the corner of the building.
As she closed the door behind her, feeling herself to be free in the chilly, shadowed alley, her face broke into a triumphant smirk.
"Lost him..."
"I wouldn't bet on it."
Her back instinctively went rigid, ears pricked, and wings spread if she choose to go into a panic flight. But knowing him, he'd have her trapped on the ground before she got beyond the rooftops.
Better to go out with a bang. She mused, before whirling around on him, a snarl, not entirely faked, plastered on her face.
"What do you want, Knuckles?!"
His hands instantly came up as if to shield himself, or make peace. Rouge preferred the former, though chances were he would never be anxious of her. She was the one who was always tense around him, ever since the incident on the A.R.K. He made her uneasy, it was true.
"Look Rouge, I don't want any trouble," He said, his voice a little rougher than usual, as though he was straining not yell at her. As if he was trying to keep calm and collected, and at the same time, was willing her to do the same. It was suddenly obvious to Rouge what was going on.
He wanted something from her.
"Bullshit." She spat. He frowned, his glare piercing like it always did when he was becoming fed up with her attitude. She fought with the urge to shrink back from his gaze.
"I haven't stolen anything of your damned island, so if you're looking for your fucking Emeralds again, you better look somewhere else. And no, I'm not helping you find them." She turned her head to the side, nose in the air, and put her fists on her hips to prove her great indifference. "Besides, I'm retired, if you haven't kept up with the news forecasts."
Knuckles sighed, and lowered his arms, absently running his hand through his dreadlocks, his fedora having fallen off at some point during the chase. She noticed then that he looked....tired; exhausted, if she was being precise. Had something really happened? She hadn't believed that the Emeralds were, in fact, missing; she just assumed that was it, since that was one of the few things that forced Knuckles away from his little sanctuary. But now that she was truly looking, she could see the same expression he always had when this sort of things happened. That insanely frustrated look.
"I'm not really asking for your help, Rouge."
That startled her. Was he trying to force her to help him with her jewel-tracking skills?! She was answered when he pointed at someone behind her.
"He is."
So, on impulse, she turned to look.
And found herself face to face with a watery, and very irritated monster.
"AAAAAHHHHHHH!!!" Rouge launched herself backwards, screaming and letting her wings flap wildly about her. She knew the creature was Chaos, she'd read about him, and had been a resident in Station Square when he'd almost submerged the entire city. Yes, she knew about Chaos, and Knuckles having him here only served to make her even more edgy.
"Is she always this jittery?"
The voice reminded the ex-treasure hunter of a rushing stream. She could just barely make out his words, having taught herself to have an extremely basic understanding of the ancient Echidna language, thanks to some photocopies of the runes covering the Master Emerald's altar. The written language was hard, and the spoken one almost beyond her grasp since she wasn't always positive what pronunciations to use, but she understood enough to feel slightly embarrassed.
She hefted herself back to her feet and dusted her arms and waist off, as though trying to brush her nervous feeling away.
"Alright, it's established." She muttered, straightening herself and letting her ears flick to show her annoyance with the entire situation. "You want my help. With what, and might I ask what I'm getting out of this?" A stream of angry sounding syllables were voiced from behind her and Knuckles gave Chaos a hard look. While Rouge couldn't understand the words, she knew she'd pissed somebody off.
Nice to know she still had it in her.
"Well, Guardian?" She continued, putting her hand out in gesture.
Knuckles rolled his eyes and looked away from her into the shadows of the wall beside him. Almost at once, a shape emerged and handed him a small bag. It was a violet chameleon, which surprised her. She'd seen the odd one or two wander into the Red Angel; they had strong stomachs and were killer to try and beat in drinking games, but they usually came in alone, or in the company of their own kind. Knuckles knew some interesting people, she'd give him that.
She was shocked out of her thoughts when a small tumult of brightly gems poured out of the bag and into her open palm. Since she hadn't expected it, quite a few tumbled into the gravelly pavement, tinkling as they hit. She stared at the flawless stones, not yet cut but obviously worth plenty. In ten seconds, she had just been shown enough gems to sell her old apartment, which wasn't very cheap, and move into a condo with a nice sea-front view on the other side of the city. Not to mention getting a whole new set of jewelry; correction, five sets.
"Okay," She said, still semi-staring at the jewels in her hand. "You've got my attention...."
Daxter: ...and then I single-handedly saved Jak and all of Haven City from certain doom at the hands of the MetalKor. Naturally, I gave Jak all the credit, cos' well, I don't mean to brag, but I really don' need my heroic tendencies to catch a pretty chick's eyes, you know what I'm sayin'? But Jak, well, he needs a little push to get things really goin' between him and Keira, so I, bein' his best bud and all, am only too happy to oblige.
-dreamily, whilst petting him- Uh....huuuuuuuuh....
Shadow: ....he's got her wrapped, ribboned, and ready for Christmas...o.O
Sonic: O.o Strange how easily she falls...
Morte: Well, hell yeah, it only took me a waggle of the eyebrows and she was a goner. And I'm a floating skull.
Amy: ....womanizer.
Daxter: -grins at Amy- Hey baby! Wassup?! -winks-
Amy: -.- ugh...
Well, yeah, that's the end of the chapter and stuff. It feels strange making Rouge talk, cause I imagine her character as a very foul-mouthed person. And making her interact with Knuckles was uber hard, I tried to underlie a lot of tension in there, did it work? O-o Ah well, it's over now. Go review and live your lives. And for those of you who have no lives....I have no advice, cause we're in the same boat. Band and my computer are my life. So....um...yeah... -cuddles Daxter- He ish a seck-say little war hero! ;)
Daxter: Damn straight!
