Whew! This one took a while. Sorry for the wait, please R&R!
Upon entering my apartment, I had the rather unsettling revelation that the code key from the envelope was missing. I still had the metal key in my pocket, and according to the note that the guy sent me, the vault required three keys to open it, and so it wouldn't do her any good.
Did I say her? Well, who else could it have been? I suppose it was only fair, we're partners, she gets one half, I get one half, you know. But, she had stolen my key. Was she really so trustworthy?
As I closed the door behind me (a habit I picked up during my stay at the Hotel Fed), my "partner" walked out into the hall, still wearing her bathrobe. "So?"
"So what?" I replied teasingly.
"What happened? You've been out five hours."
I smiled. It almost sounded like she was worried or something. "Oh, a little bit of this and that…"
She grabbed me by the lapels jokingly. "Just tell me! Jeez!"
"Okay, I went to a bar where a very attractive vixen began to check me out. Her boyfriend didn't like it, so I made him see things in a different light. I entered Shadow's place successfully, lifting some documents, some valuables, you know. And here I am."
I "forgot" to mention the black and pink ball of quills that had been Shadow and Amy, but hey, some things are just too good to share.
"So, what else did you steal?"
I threw the entire score on the hall table. It consisted of some cash in large bills, several platinum bars, some crack, and a number of large jewels.
The latter drove Rouge to the table like a moth to the flame.
"Marry me," she muttered dreamily, running her hands over a 5-oz sapphire.
"Later. Let's see what's in these documents."
Well, with the first two pages that I read, it became rapidly clear that Shadow was indeed with Cinos and not Robco. Meaning that the Chaotix were with Robco. I never thought I'd find the Chaotix working with an ex-Robotnik front, but times is tough, even for me. Me, the goody-two-shoes guardian of the Master Emerald. Me, who has risen to one of the most in-demand hired-guns/private investigators on Mobius. Me, who has wasted what's left of my life on tobacco, alcohol, and bullets.
Kind of brings a tear to the eye, but I ain't complainin'. I've had my moments.
That said, it was time to bring the fight to Robco, having taken out Shadow, and probably set Cinos back a way. You know, when a man's up against two of the largest corporations under the sun, things get a bit dicey. Fortunately, I've got the best on my side.
"Sounds like it's time to read up on Robco, then," I told Rouge.
"Got a laptop that can help you hack their site. I set it up in your office."
Yes sir, she's the best. "Groovy. I'll take a nap, and then I'll take a look."
She reached out and grabbed me by my tie. "Mind if I join you?"
Damn, she is the best…
------------------------------
After some reading in bed, courtesy of Rouge's CPU, I knew enough about Robco to shake a stick at. It's a direct offshoot of Eggman's outfit, which you already knew. Started four years ago by one of his chief lieutenants, Roland, a mongoose who was spared being roboticized for his service. I'd fought him a couple times. He was a good shot, and a great administrator. Trust him to get Robco running smooth. I could find it within myself to admire Roland, but he had, after all, sent three bullyboys who went in for brass knuckles, a cheap shot if ever there was one. Their headquarters was located in Station Square, in one of the finer commercial districts.
And then there was Cinos, which gave me nil. It was run by a trust of private investors, none of whom were known to the public. It operated out of several smaller headquarters, most on Angel Island, many in Knothole. It also had a warehouse where Robotnik had tried to nuke us all, which was a coincidence. I'd been to that warehouse a couple times.
If I was going to put pressure on Robco – and I was – I needed help. Tails no longer figured into the picture, the case was probably bogus. If Amy was sleeping with Cinos's head enforcer, then the chances of an honest case were out the window. However, I controlled one of three keys (Rouge had obviously taken the other) passed to me on a subway, which apparently opened a high-security safe in Station Square. And, according to the sallow chipmunk from the break-in, that was what everyone was worried about. And since Robco and Cinos were working separately to get it back, I would indeed need some help.
But who was there? I ran a list through my head of all my associates from "the good old days".
Sonic? Dead.
Tails? Missing.
Amy? Obviously not.
Cream? Rich bitch now, no fight at all.
Big? Dead.
Rouge? Got her.
E-123 Omega? Dead, and that one's my fault.
Chaotix? With Robco.
Shadow? With Cinos.
Yup, I was indeed stuck with Rouge. But, after all, she's the best.
Twenty minutes later, Rouge and I were dressed to the nines in our sharpest businesswear. I in my black-on-black with the violet tie (Rouge remarked that it matched my eyes), her in a stylish red office suit. Of course, there were two reasons for us to be all spiffy. One was to blend in. The other was to conceal our metal.
My black jacket was hiding my .44 very nicely, and for extra protection, I had fit another just like it against my hip; Rouge (don't ask me how) had managed to holster a 20-bullet Tech-9 against the inside of her thigh. The briefcases we were both carrying each held one AK-47 apiece, plus ammo for all the others. We took the high-class commuter train to Robco's HQ, and a short walk later, there we were.
The building was a silvery-green colossus of steel and glass. It was a gorgeously sunny day, with just enough clouds to set the scene. The skyscraper glinted in the light, a building's smile, urging on trade and business and all things commercial.
We looked at it, looked at each other, grinned, and walked in. The building gave one last Cheshire smile, and then we were struck by the air conditioning of the lobby.
The floor was marble white, the walls light blue. Leather furniture occupied patched of the mauve carpeting, on which the business elite were talking with each other. Soft, dreamy piano music seeped from the speakers, and the atmosphere smelled of lilac. A three-tier fountain made entirely out of crystal stood at the center of the elaborate carpeting. Here was a place in which the greatest of the great would "hang out."
The receptionist was an extremely attractive hedgehog with reddish quills that swept silkily across her eyes. "Puis-je vous aider?" she said in a rich accent that spoke of the authenticity of her Frenchness.
Rouge looked at me questioningly, so I took over. "Oui. Nous voulons rencontrer Monsieur Roland."
"Voulez-vous planifier un rendez-vous avec Monsieur Roland quand?"
"Maintenant. C'est urgent."
"D'accord. Votre nom, monsieur?"
It occurred to me that leaving my real name would be a bad idea. "Je m'appelle Jamie Powell."
"O.K., Je vais dire à Roland que vous etes ici."
"Merci, mademoiselle."
Rouge looked at me, befuddled. "I didn't know you spoke French! What happened?"
"Under the name of Jamie Powell, we are about to meet Roland."
She looked at me with a weird expression. "You're full of surprises, you know that?"
"Of course. That's what makes me so appealing."
A soft ping alerted us to the fact that the elevator had arrived. The doors opened, and flanked by Vector and the sallow chipmunk, Roland himself walked out, his gray fur cut into an immaculate goatee. The look was topped by a perfectly tailored Armani waistcoat, with an Ascot tie.
All hopes of a cover faded before my eyes. Roland might not have recognized me, but Vector or Sallow most certainly would.
Vector whispered something in Roland's ear. "You're sure?" he replied in a classy, cultured voice, the kind you hear on Masterpiece Theater.
Vector nodded.
Roland snapped his fingers, and an amazing thing happened. Every "businessperson" in the lobby suddenly snapped to their feet, guns in hand. Rouge and I were looking at weapons I hadn't even known were legal.
The demure, high-class voice of Roland the Mongoose spoke up again. "I'm not sure what you're business is here, Mr. Knuckles, but Vector assures me that you are armed. That said, I would like to know why. However, since this makes the second time you have made an unexpected appearance in our agenda, I will make sure there is no third time."
He nodded to the business elite/gunslingers, and it all began.
Rouge and I went instinctively for the receptionist's desk, landing in a heap behind it. The bullet that had been headed for me took Sallow through the chest. His white shirt instantly became a white and red tye-die job, and he crumpled backwards with a muffled sigh.
The lobby erupted into noise as the entire vanguard began to pummel the marble-on-silver desk with lead. Rouge had her MP out, and I had unholstered my two .44s long ago. I shouted to her over the din.
"Need some covering fire, babe!"
She nodded, and reached over the desk with her machine pistol, wildfiring into the crowd. I took advantage of the break in incoming fire to straighten up with my pistols.
I don't think too hard in a gunfight. My hands do the thinking for me. With every action my eye catches, my hands snap into action, my .44s thudding out their old song of death to the masses. Rouge was by now up and firing normally, her three-shot bursts keeping the beat of a lighting quick waltz, the two different songs of our guns firing a hail of lead at the posse of assailants.
Blam blam blam! Chowchowchow! Chowchowchow!
I realized I was out of ammo. Dimly, I reached into my briefcase to get more clips. As I did, a shot struck the counter, kicking up some pieces of marble, which pinged harmlessly off my hand.
The desk wasn't going to hold, that much was sure. We would have to take them out sooner, or we'd be without a cover soon enough.
A flicker on my left alerted me that some goombah with an M-16 was aiming at Rouge. I fingered the triggers, the hammers snapped forward, and with another Blam Blam the guy fell forwards, his legs kicking out stupidly behind him.
A slug from the French receptionist's's rifle nicked Rouge's wing, throwing off her aim. Her burst fire took the receptionist through the arm, instead of in the head. Rouge finished her off by emptying her gun into the hedgehog receptionist's sizeable chest. She gave one last "Oh, la, la!" before her guts were blown out of her back. A crimson mist settled over where she had stood.
By and by, they were closing in. I looked into Rouge's perfect emerald eyes, and she into mine. Then we reached for the AKs.
The AK-47 is a beast of a weapon. As we poured round after round of 7.62 into them, this fact was probably running through both our minds. A slug hit my arm, taking a tiny amount of meat with it. My AK struck back, cutting the businessman in half with a loud buddabuddabudda.
And that was it. Rouge and I gasped for breath, adrenaline leaving our system as endorphins took over. We began to giggle as we collapsed onto the floor, exhausted.
It occurred to me that I needed a smoke, and I had left them all at my place. "Rouge, you got a coffin nail?"
"Oh, the best. Try one." She passed me a cigarette with a gold band over the leaf.
I lit it, and was met by the taste of minty, tingly sweet smoke in my mouth. "Is this Knothole 'bacco?" I said happily, letting out the delicious smoke in rings.
"Mm-hm." She smiled at me, lighting her own. Like I said, the best. Way better than my coffin nails, for sure.
Vector and Roland were still standing there, utterly shocked. When Sallow Chipmunk had bitten the dusk, Roland's left sleeve had been spattered in blood. It was still dripping a little when Rouge and I walked up to him, our legs still shaky from the aftermath of the battle.
The scene was grisly. About twenty bodies littered the lobby, which now resembled Swiss cheese with all the holes that had been punched through its blue paneling. The fountain in the center was now streaming water in which scarlet billows of blood were flowing, due to the gunman who now lay at the bottom with two loads through his face. Spatter patterns of blood and brains decorated the marble floor. The classical music was still playing through the speakers. In essence, Number 1451, Main Street now resembled a Stanley Kubric scene melded with a war zone.
Roland just stared at us, the dust settling on his suit. "Look, Knux, I don't know you personally, I really just –"
"We came here to talk, Roland. It's a crying shame we had to kill all your security to do it."
"W-what do you want to know?"
"Everything. Why are you after me and Rouge? Who's behind Cinos? And where's Miles Prower?"
"Get me out of here alive and I'll tell you everything," he said in a hushed whisper.
And I realized that Roland wasn't afraid of us. He never had been. Even though we had taken care of twently of his guys, he would have more. Many more. He was afraid of something else.
"You know why I have so many people here, Knuckles?" he continued, as though he had read my thoughts. "I'm holed up in here. Cinos has taken everything from me. We're hiding out."
His brown eyes bored into me. "Get me away from Cinos alive and I'll tell you everything."
I should have noticed the guy in the black trench coat enter from behind us. I should have seen him load up a rocket launcher. And I should have seen him fire.
The firebomb exploded just inches from my foot. Had it been an actual explosive and not a stun grenade, I would have been cut to ribbons by the schrapnel or the flames. As it was, the magnesium flare exploded right in my face.
The bright flash and the horrendously loud roar of the flashbang were not lost on me. I was instantly blinded, my ears beyond ringing as my head throbbed horribly against itself. I tried to scream, only I couldn't hear myself doing it. I fell backwards, all sense of direction lost as my panic caused me to roll on the floor, tears running from my eyes in pain.
The next thing I knew, I was in the passenger seat of a leather-lined limosine (try saying that five times fast), my hearing okay but my vision still out at the races. I ran my hand through my long red quills (they could have been polka-dotted for all I could tell). My instincts told me Rouge was driving, and Roland was in the back seat.
"Rouge?" I croaked.
"Oh, you're awake. Yes?"
"What the hell happened?"
"Guy from Cinos shot a stun bomb into the lobby. Almost got me, too."
"Roland?"
"Got harder hit than you. He's in the back."
"Right. Uh, Rouge?"
"Yes, Knux?"
"Thanks for saving my ass."
"You're welcome."
"And thanks for the smoke."
"You're welcome."
"Oh, and Rouge?"
A little exasperated. "Yes, Knuckles?"
"Thanks for being there for a bum like me."
I can feel the heat from her before her lips meet mine. We sink into bliss for a few moments before I break it. "Hadn't you better drive?"
"We've been parked for an hour."
"Oh. Never mind then."
I resume where we left off. Never done it blind.
------------------------
"Rouge?"
"Yes?"
"Are my quills red?"
She laughed softly. "Yes, they are."
The downward spiral of the case to end all cases had just gotten weirder.
Wierder, but not less enjoyable.
