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Sonic the Hedgehog: Guardians
Chapter 6: Lives and Time
"Oh you want some? I got some!"
"Short bursts, Honch!"
"Tell that to the metal eggs!"
"Son of a…Vincent, have you contacted Command?"
"That happens sir, you'll be first to know."
"I-"
"Get down!"
As he hit the dirt to avoid the back-blast of a rocket, part of Dutch's mind reminded him that he was still in charge of Sigma-Alpha 2, and that he was the one who was meant to be giving orders. Not Rico, who'd fired a rocket into the advancing Egg Pawns, scrambling them so bad that bits of metal went flying everywhere. Causing the commandos to duck down, and what few critters had stayed outside to fight to do the same.
Granted, he'd have given the same order, but still…
"I said clusters only, Rico!"
Rico, crouching behind some of the rubble of the Sonic statue, gestured to the advancing robots. "Whole damn mess is a cluster, sir!"
Peaking above some rubble of his own, Dutch had a look. And ducking back into cover before the lasers hit him, he silently conceded that E.P. 004 was correct.
The robots were everywhere, and they were advancing. Rico could fire every rocket he had, taking out a dozen Egg Pawns with every blast, and he still wouldn't be able to dent the tide of metal advancing on them. Not to mention the forty-plus animals that were huddled in the town hall, along with the handful who had stayed outside, firing from behind the pillars at the entranceway. Using wispons, as Vincent had called them - weapons powered by the hyper-go-on energy of wisps, who had come to the aid of the Resistance. Their energy used for all manner of functions, from fire, to lightning, to abilities that bordered on magic.
Or so the team's techie had said, because all Dutch could see now from his allies were cyan-coloured lasers and in the case of the antelope, orange mini-rockets. Less boom for their buck compared to what Rico was wielding, but from what Dutch could tell, there were a lot more bucks to spare.
He frowned, as he slowly got up. Reflecting how, in the haze of battle, he couldn't help but think of those wisps. Aliens from another world who had come to the aid of Earth, while GUN still refused to commit...
He wiped some sweat from his forehead as he rested his rifle on the rubble. Letting out burst after burst, downing an Egg Pawn with every blast. They'd changed from their original incarnations, their former orange, almost comical bodies replaced with polished, white metal (along with a few silver-coated ones), all of whom red visors scanning back and forth. Finding targets against which they could use their wrist-lasers.
Bam.
Nevertheless, Dutch reflected to grim satisfaction, they remained just as vulnerable as ever to armour-piercing rounds, especially when he aimed for the reds of their eyes.
Bam. One of the pawns fell to the ground.
Bam. One of the pawns was blinded, spinning around, and hitting numerous other robots with its wrist laser before eventually falling.
Bam. He shot one of the pawns with a wrist flamer, and he must have hit the fuel tank because it detonated in a small explosion, taking out five other robots with it.
Bam.
He looked aside at the Egg Pawns marching from the left flank. Then at the right, as he reloaded his magazine. He dared even look above, in the vain hope of seeing a Grey Hawk, strato-carrier, or heck, any GUN ship descending from on high.
Bam. Bam. Bam.
No such luck, he thought, as he continued to fire. No GUN. No deliverance. And, as he scanned the advancing horde…no Huggy Bear either.
Bam.
Chances were they were going to die here, he reflected. Chances were this was all for nothing. There was even a chance that they'd made things worse – that Eggman was never going to have bothered the United Federation. That now, they'd given him onus to invade.
But even so, if he saw that traitorous, murderous bear again…
Bam.
For justice.
Bam. For Spike.
He glanced at the animals that were firing at the advancing horde. Wondering what they were thinking. Eggman was the one who sought to make them mindless slaves, and one of their own had betrayed them. But if Sigma-Alpha 2 hadn't ever shown up, if they hadn't forced Huggy's hand…would things be different?
Bam.
He kept firing, even as his mind continued to wander. He'd studied military history when he'd attended East Point, going as far back as the Reman Empire. War changed, technology improved, but some tactics remained the same. Glancing at the advancing tide of metal, recalling how Reman legionnaires would drive through their opponents like a spear, it occurred to him that there was no way that the Paladins could evacuate all the animals huddling in the structure behind them, but if they focused their fire, all at once, and then made a run for it…well, over four-dozen furries would lose their fur, but his team would be safe at least.
Like Westopolis?
He grit his teeth and kept firing. Westopolis. Here, among the ruins, the memory of that damn city wouldn't leave him. Ant Troop had been forced to retreat in the end. And in doing so…
No.
Not this time. This time, he'd stand his ground. And if that meant his death…well, he'd do so living up to his namesake.
As a guardian.
"Sir!"
He looked at Vincent – crouched from behind cover while Honch fired like a madman, and Rico took cover from laser fire as he reloaded another rocket.
"Sir, I've got him," Vincent said, waving a radio in his hand, standing up. "It's faint, but-"
The techie yelled, as a laser tore through the side of his chest.
"Fuck!" His body moving faster than his mind, Dutch rose to his feet and strafed sideways, unloading his rifle at the Egg Pawns while moving towards Vincent. His body moving just as fast, Honch did likewise, firing wildly at the attacking horde. Bullets and lasers weaving in and out, in a dance of death, under the early morning light, casting its glow on Dutch and the man he leant down beside.
"Vincent…"
E.P. 002 was alive. Just. The smell of burnt flesh wafted through the early morning air, filling Dutch's nostrils with a smell he'd never got used to. Even before Westpolis. And especially after it…
"Got him…radio…"
Vincent was turning very pale, very quickly. His left hand was put to his chest, clutching the radio. His right putting a hand to his wound – a mix of burnt flesh and singed uniform. The laser wouldn't kill him by itself, but if he went into shock...
"Honch, cover me."
No word from E.P. 003, as Dutch grabbed both of Vincent's arms and dragged him across the rubble-strewn ground. Keeping his head low as lasers went all around him – the orange of the Egg Pawns contrasting with the cyan of the wispons. Honch steadily backed away, opening fire in all directions. Hitting the Egg Pawns with every shot, yet doing little to stem the tide.
"Hear him…hear him…" Vincent whispered, his eyelids fluttering.
"Yeah, that's right, hear him," Dutch whispered. He looked over his shoulder. "Damn it, this is gonna hurt you more than me…"
Given the way Vincent screamed as he dragged him up the stairs towards the town hall's entrance, he found himself in the right…and still in a bad situation, as he laid Vincent to rest behind one of the pillars. The same one he took cover behind himself. Like the ones that Honch and Rico did. Taking cover from the laser fire of the advancing horde.
"Paladin Team…" Dutch took a breath. "Paladin Team, sound off."
"Running low on metal, sir," Honch murmured.
Rico loaded another rocket into his launcher. "After this, got four more."
Dutch looked at the animals that had remained outside. The roach. The rhino. The llama. The gorilla. The frill-necked lizard. Heck, even the snake was firing a wispon by holding it in his mouth. They seemed content to do their own thing. Chances were they were going to die. Chances were, they knew it. And chances were that would happen without him ever learning their names.
"Sir…"
"Hang in there, Vince." He looked out towards the advancing horde, making their way past the rubble of the destroyed Sonic statue. Marching over the body of one who had fallen months ago.
Maybe we could fight our way through. He glanced back at the town hall's door. But try doing that with fifty critters and-
"Sir!"
He looked at Vincent. With his good arm, he'd grabbed hold of Dutch's. With the other, he was holding up a radio. His hand shaking, barely able to hold it.
"He's alive," Vincent whispered. "Spike…"
Dutch's eyes widened.
"Heard him…over the radio…alive…" Vincent whispered. "Get…him…"
Dutch frowned, as he glanced at the advancing silver horde, held only at bay thanks to copious fire from Honch, and yet another well placed rocket from Rico. At the smoke rising from beyond them, where the Grey Hawk had crashed. If Spike was alive, and that was a big "if," how the hell he was meant to get to him was a question he didn't have an answer to. And if he did manage that…how could he abandon his men?
"Has the…panic button…" Vincent whispered. "Press…button…him…"
The panic button. Dutch rubbed his eyes, sweat and dirt mixing. Permeating his very skin. Of course…
Dutch looked at Rico and Honch. At the Egg Pawns. At the ruins of the statue. At the entrance to the town hall. At anything and everything, rather than at the man before him. At the man who was begging he save another, potentially at the cost of his own life.
You made a call, Colonel. You did your job.
He opened fire on the Egg Pawns. Hoping that the sound of gunfire would drown out Penders's words from his mind.
Heavy butcher's bill…
Hoping, and finding that hope unrequited.
"Sir, go…" Vincent whispered.
He looked down at E.P. 002. "Vincent…no. I can't."
Vincent ripped off his dog tags and gave them to Dutch. "Go…" he whispered. "Bring in…cavalry…we…hold off…"
As if to prove his point, Vincent drew out his pistol and let off a volley of rounds at the Egg Pawns, now advancing up the stairs to the town hall. Some of the bullets slowed them down. Others did nothing. Only when a rocket landed in the dead centre, destroying or incapacitating the entire front line, was the advance slowed…leaving plenty of more robots ready to advance on them.
"Sir, you got a plan, I'd love to hear it!" Honch yelled out, as he fed a line of ammo into the HMG.
Dutch sighed. Plans. He'd had a plan. His plan had likely got his team, and every animal in Crescent View killed, or worse. There was a chance that if he did what Vincent was asking him to do, he was putting the final nail in their cold, metallic coffin. But if he didn't…
"Last two rockets Sir!" Rico called out.
Dutch sighed, getting to his feet. Taking the radio Vincent had given him in hand, and passing his rifle and its magazines down to the techie in turn.
"Rico, fire in the centre right flank at my command. Honch, focus fire on any stragglers."
The heavies looked at him, as he cocked his pistol.
"I'm going after Spike. I get to him, I call in the cavalry."
The heavies stared at him.
"Or I don't," Dutch said. "And we all die here."
Or the rest of the team dies, and I survive. While fifty critters become mindless slaves.
The thought had already entered his mind, and he had no doubt it had entered the minds of his team as well. Vincent…well, he'd made his choice. But Honch? Rico? He had no doubt they'd fight to the end. Whether they'd do so without their former CO…whether they'd follow the orders of a man who technically didn't have authority over them anymore…
"Who wants to live forever, eh?" Honch reached down into his vest, ripped off his dog tags, and threw them to Dutch. "You say, I'll spray."
Dutch caught the tags easily. Even if it felt like he was taking hold of a boulder.
"Say where, and you'll get fireworks," Rico said, tossing his tags as well. Adding to the pile of rocks, as the Egg Pawns crossed over them.
Dutch reached into his belt and pulled out a laser sight, attaching it to his pistol. "When I'm through, hold this line as long as you can," he said. "When you can't, fall back into the town hall."
The Egg Pawns kept advancing.
"I'd say it's been an honour, but…" Dutch sighed. "Fuck, who am I kidding? It's been an honour."
Honch smirked. Rico laughed. Vincent, hands trembling, pulled out a grenade.
"See you on the other side, Paladins."
Vincent tossed the grenade, disrupting the advancing line.
Dutch targeted the laser onto the right flank.
Rico fired. Dutch began to run.
The explosion destroyed half a dozen Egg Pawns, and disorientated a dozen more.
Dutch kept his head down as heavy machine gun fire cut through the air above him. Striking down every Pawn that remained standing.
He ran, waiting for the laser that would hit him.
He ran, imagining the wrist-flamer that would burn him to a crisp.
He ran, telling himself…hoping…that he wasn't running away. That he was coming back.
He ran, wondering what it would be like to move at super-sonic speeds. To be able to move so fast, and with such force, that he could scatter these Pawns like bowling pins.
Wondering if, without such a force in this world anymore, if all that was good and just on said world was beyond saving.
He ran, and ran, and ran, until he took cover in the awning of a burnt-out building. Stopping to catch his breath, as he looked at the sight before him. Legions of machines advancing, lasers cutting through the air, as lead took them down.
As one last rocket detonated.
As he tried not to think of Westpolis.
Tried, and as he ran down the streets to find the wreckage of Paladin Team's Grey Hawk, failed.
In his memories, he was in Westpolis.
No longer above it.
His memory, replaying a dream, as he ran in both memory, and the waking world.
Memory, that had often become nightmare.
He and thirteen other troopers made their way east, jogging through what had once been a piece of suburbia, and had now been set ablaze. Barbeques, swimming pools, tables…people who hadn't headed for Eastside Park had still been making preparations to see the Black Comet. To lie under the stars, have a cold one, and marvel at the heavens. Now, though…it was as if the comet had come to them. Bringing all the destruction with it.
There were no bodies, he noticed, as he led the remnants of Ant Troop away from the fires of the city behind them. Plenty of overturned cars on the streets, dropped itinerary, ranging from handbags to Jenny dolls, but no bodies. He dared hope that it was because everyone had made it out in time. But…
There was also the smell. Not quite the smell of burnt flesh, not quite the smell of charred metal, not quite the smell of gunpowder. But it was there. Entering his nostrils. Making its way down to his lungs. The smell of…burning, in its purest form. Making him feel like there was a fire inside that was ready to consume him. Making him want to just lie down and wait for ice or fire to take his life.
He glanced over his shoulder. At the shattered spires of Westopolis, cast in the red light of not only the tortured sky, but the setting sun that lay beyond. Hope. He'd had little of it before today, and now, the invading aliens had done what people like Doctor Eggman never could.
"Bastard might even end up on our side after this," he murmured.
"Sir?"
He looked at one of the soldiers coming from behind. One of the few who could stand up straight. Who hadn't been singed by plasma, or been mauled by a flying bat-creature, or incinerated by a laser from above, or any other method of death that the aliens had deployed today.
"Nothing, Phillips," he murmured, looking at the patch on the trooper's chest. "Nothing at all…"
The troopers kept moving. Minutes, hours…he couldn't say. They walked through the graveyard all the same. Each house a stone, overturned, and shattered, with names never carved. Sometimes, a soldier would suggest using the radio, and every time, he would tell them the same thing. He'd be using it in the blind, and there was every risk of drawing the aliens to their position. He couldn't be sure, but a race that could travel between the stars, and outmatched them in firepower, would surely have more sophisticated transmission technology.
But eventually, as if light beyond the gates of Beyond, they saw them. Headlights, coming in through the gloom. Six of them, and the sound of approaching vehicles in turn. Normally a sound for sore ears, but-
"Cover," he hissed. "Now."
The remnants of Ant Troop took up positions, taking cover in the abundance of detritus that was around them and pointing their rifles, or in the case of those who could barely walk, simply lying down behind the ruins. Normal had gone out the window as soon as they'd been dispatched from Fort Fielding. Normal had been ground into the same dust that they'd choked on as they'd battled their way through downtown Westopolis. Engaging in a search for civilians that had yielded them nothing but the bitter fruits of more deaths at the hands of the aliens that had cost them their Grey Hawk. Normal would make seeing the approaching headlights be a sign of relief, but…
Dutch clutched his rifle as he lay it on the bonnet of a burnt-out car. He squinted, as he heard the vehicles come to a stop. Hoping, praying, for normal.
"Colonel Warner?"
That the voice was male, and more importantly, human, was a good sign.
"Colonel Warner, is that you?"
He stood up straight, lowering his rifle, if not his guard. "Who's asking?"
He saw a shadow dismount from one of the three vehicles that had pulled up, the shadow in question making a motion with its hand. In turn, the lights dimmed slightly. Enough so that as the shadow approached, Dutch could make him out. See his big moustache. His big glasses. His big belly. And last but not least, the big gun slung over his back.
"Commander Penders?" he whispered.
The shadow emerged into the light, looking at Dutch, the troopers behind him who were rising to their feet, then back again. Looking at him with relief in one eye, and disappointment in the other.
"We didn't hear you over the horn," Penders murmured. "Were you carrying out radio silence?"
Dutch nodded.
"Prudent." The commander looked beyond Dutch. "Where's the rest of your team?"
Dutch said nothing. Instead, he reached into his pocket and pulled out over a dozen dog tags, and a single golden sigil. Silently, he put them in Penders's hand. Thinking of how the one who'd carried that sigil had expressed that she'd never thought she'd live to see the end of the world. Thinking that maybe, hopefully, DiBella had been right. That she hadn't lived to see the end of the world, because the world hadn't ended.
Not yet at least.
"Heavy butcher's bill," the commander murmured. He looked past Dutch, at the burning city. "Weren't you meant to head to Sargaso Bridge?"
Dutch, very slowly, murmured, "we came under attack from above. Lasers. And when we were on the ground, we…" He rubbed his eyes, sweat and dirt mixing like some kind of perverse baptism. "We couldn't make it, sir. I'm sorry. We-"
"You made a call, colonel." Penders put a hand on his shoulder. "You did your job."
"Did I?"
Penders gave him a look.
"Guardians," Dutch said. "Isn't that what we are? How can…" He took a breath, trying to steady his Adam's apple. "If we couldn't protect the people there…"
"Colonel Warner."
"…then how can…how can we call ourselves-"
"Colonel Warner, look at me."
Dutch, even through the dirt and what he told himself was tears, did so.
"You can cry later," Penders said, as he gestured to the vehicles behind him. "But not now. Because Westopolis is one of six cities that these aliens have attacked, and not a single one of them has been held."
There was the sound of ramps extending, and through the gloom, Dutch recognised that the vehicles were troop carriers. Yet what was coming out of them weren't human soldiers, but mechanical ones.
"Six?" Phillips whispered, walking up to her superiors. "Six…cities?"
"The aliens have hit Westpolis and Empire City," Penders said. "We've also got reports of attacks on Moskvoy, Nihon, Parise, and Londan. Don't have the details yet. Right now, you lot are going to be sent to a Fort Fielding, before we suss out our next move. In the meantime, these beautiful babies are going to wipe out as many of the bastards as they can, and show them that we're not ceding an inch of ground without a fight."
Dutch stared at the mechs as they walked in three rows. Big, green, and equipped with rifles and RPGs, they vaguely resembled Hunters, but were squatter. Bulkier. And as silly a notion as it was, meaner.
"Giga Troopers," Penders said, enjoying himself far too much for Dutch's liking. He looked at the colonel, a smile visible behind that big moustache of his. "Takes you back, doesn't it?" he murmured. "Fort Thorndyke, remember?"
Dutch, his hand forming into a fist, nodded.
"The future of warfare," Penders declared.
"I also remember that the point of them was to save lives," Dutch murmured. "Not send them in after they'd been lost." He took a step towards the commander, his voice low, his tongue laced with poison. "Fifty percent," he whispered. "I had three companies' worth of soldiers with me, and you sent them into that slaughterhouse for what?"
Penders remained silent.
"For what?!" Dutch glanced at the troopers behind him, then back at Penders, clutching his fist ever so tighter so he didn't break the man's nose. "Westopolis is burning, its people are missing, or dead, and I've heard rumours ranging from Shadow fighting aliens to fighting our own, and flying pigs, and even Sonic, so tell me sir, for what?!"
Penders, slowly, quietly, glancing aside, murmured, "to buy time."
Dutch remained silent.
"That's the job of a soldier. And sooner or later, you and the rest of your soldiers will be doing the same thing all over again" Penders looked at Phillips, then the rest of the troopers. "Which is why you're pulling out right now."
No-one objected. Dutch had no way of knowing how much they'd heard, but if they had, no-one was complaining. Perhaps they were too tired. Perhaps they were too desperate to get out of the danger zone. Perhaps, as the Giga Troopers continued to march down the street, into the meat grinder, they were as eager as they could to get out of the fire.
"Come on," Penders said. "We're already too close for my liking."
The commander turned around and headed for one of the APCs.
"Lives for time," Dutch murmured.
Stopping, as he heard Dutch speak.
"I thought our job was to save lives. To be guardians."
Penders sighed. "One day, Colonel. If we live to see it."
The commander continued walking for the APC. Leaving Dutch alone with the remnants of Ant Troop. Helping them along, into the metal sarcophagi that were taking them to a new land.
As one by one, the Giga Troopers marched. Under the tortured sky, from which came rain.
Still, the robots marched. Like ants.
But not, Dutch reflected, like guardians.
As he jogged through the streets of Crescent View, Dutch could still see the rising smoke of the Grey Hawk, but he couldn't hear the sounds of the battle he'd left behind.
Breathing heavily, sweating as much from exertion as the heat of the rising sun, he hoped that it was due to distance, and not defeat. That he hadn't left his men, and the creatures they'd come to save, to die. Because, damn it, he'd gone through that shit in Westopolis. They'd failed to save any of the civilians, and more than once, he'd had to make a call for the greater good. Leaving troopers to be slaughtered by the Black Arms, so that he could save what remained of his ever-diminishing forces.
He'd returned to Fort Fielding after that battle, before being sent to Omega Site. The entire conflict had lasted around a week, and he hadn't been able to make a difference. And, he reflected, as he clutched his rifle, chances were he wasn't about to make a difference now either.
"E.P. One to E.P. Five, come in, over."
There was no response.
"E.P. One to Sigma-Alpha Two, please respond, over."
Still, silence. Which, he told himself, didn't mean anything. If Vincent heard Spike over the radio, then…damn it, Vincent had heard Spike. He was going to rescue his sniper, press that panic button (if Spike hadn't already), then return to the town hall, keep firing, and hold the line until GUN reinforcements turned up, committing the United Federation to war, and in doing so, turning the tide against the Eggman Empire. Simple.
Dutch grunted. Simple. When had things last been simple? For anyone? Maybe that was why so many people didn't want to commit to the war, he thought. An animal world, a human world, the latter conducting its affairs in peace (and sometimes war), and life just being…simple.
"E.P. One to E.P. Five, if you…" He closed his eyes, as he continued to jog. "Spike, if you can hear me, just know…look, I know you're not the talkative type, but if you could say something…anything…"
There was no sound. Nothing but that of echoing footsteps, and the whispers of the wind. Bringing with it a chill that beat back the warmth of the rising sun. Cutting through his body like a knife. Causing him to shiver, even as he continued to sweat. As he stopped, breathing heavily, as he beheld the wreck of the Grey Hawk.
"Shit."
It hadn't caught on fire, so there was that at least. But it had crashed into a building head first. And through the ruins, Dutch could see that the cockpit's glass had been shattered. And there, sitting in it…
"Spike."
He ran over, slinging the rifle over his back. Spike was in the pilot's seat, unconscious. His face covered with blood, his uniform torn by countless shards of glass.
"Spike, talk to me."
His body just lying there. Slumped.
"Spike." Dutch tried to keep his beating heart in check. "Hey, Spike. Come on. Talk to me."
He slowly adjusted his sniper's head, lifting it up. Opening his right eye. Finding nothing but a blank, glassy look.
"Spike…" He took off his glove, putting a finger to the commando's neck. "Spike, pal…come on…"
Searching for a pulse.
"Spike…please…"
Searching…and finding none.
"Spike…"
Dutch didn't say anything as he put his glove back on. Spike, ever silent, was now silent forever. Always cool, now already turning cold. His eyes, able to hit a target at over a klick…now fated to see nothing ever again.
Captain Yuji "Spike" Ishuka was dead. Dead, because his former CO had asked him to come on this mission. And worst of all, he might have died for nothing. He…was…
Dutch spun around and fired his pistol. Screaming. Yelling. Not only, because of the target before him. Not only, because of how the bullets were rebounding off some kind of golden shield. No. It was because of the way Huggy Bear smiled at him. Baring his teeth, as if he'd just found Goldilocks. And grinning all the wider as Dutch lowered his pistol. Towering over the human, despite being only four feet in height.
"You missed," Huggy murmured.
Dutch lowered the pistol, slowly. Biting back a retort that he hadn't missed, and it was only because of Huggy's wispon that the damn ursine was standing at all.
"For what it's worth, I didn't plan for this to happen," he said. "I was hoping to just lead you lot out of the hall, towards the helicopter, and have the Egg Pawns surface midway. Lots of hands with no last stand" He nodded in the direction of the hall. "Instead, you've made things so…difficult."
"Why'd you do it?"
The bear looked back at Dutch.
"Why side with Eggman?"
Huggy's lip quivered, before whispering, "you ever work in politics, Colonel Warner?"
The commando remained silent.
"Politics means choosing the winning side. And the winning side right now is the Eggman Empire."
"I thought politics meant having a cause and sticking to it," Dutch murmured, slowly gripping his fist. "Winning the people through ideas."
Huggy chuckled. "You've seen the Egg Pawns for yourself, colonel. You think anyone would join the empire willingly? No. This way, I have a chance."
There it was again, Dutch reflected. That quiver. "And then what?" he asked.
The bear looked at him.
"When everyone in Crescent View is roboticized, when the Eggman Empire rules the world…what then? How long until you're put inside a steel egg?"
Huggy remained silent.
"And if you're not, how long are you going to last? Walking through Egg Pawns, wondering how many of them are your own people…how many visors can you look into? Asking yourself, 'what have I done?'"
"I know what I've done, Colonel Warner. Survived. And if that means joining the Eggman Empire…" He glanced at the wrecked Grey Hawk, his wispon hanging limply at his side. "Well, true to form, you can't make an empire without breaking some eggs along the-"
Dutch charged him.
He'd been waiting for Huggy to lower his guard, but hearing those words…now…waiting was over. And if that meant charging the bear, if that meant pinning him to the ground, if it meant punching him over, and over, and over…so be it.
The Grey Hawk was broken. Spike's body was broken. The defensive line at the town hall might soon be broken, if it hadn't already. But of all the things that were broken, he was going add Huggy Bear's neck to that list. So grabbing the bear's throat, he began to squeeze and-
He yelled, as the wispon was pointed at his chest. As for a moment, it turned into a yellow drill. Piercing his uniform, his body armour, his flesh. Before, the moment after, the force of the blow sent him flying backward against a ruined wall.
He could feel his bones breaking. He didn't care. Yelling, he pulled out his pistol. About to pull the trigger…before a beam of electricity extended from it. Yanking the weapon from his hand, and tossing it aside. Before worming its way around his neck. Lifting him into the air.
Bone tore through muscle inside him, but he didn't scream. He couldn't breathe.
"Variable wispon," Huggy whispered, holding the weapon in his right hand, while rubbing his neck with his left. "Special gift from the doctor."
Dutch couldn't speak, so he spat at him. An act of defiance which caused the beam of lightning to tighten even further. Choking him. Burning him, the smell of charred flesh reaching his nostrils.
"Really, it's a mercy," Huggy whispered. "I mean, if you escaped…" A shadow passed over him. "Well, Eggman's servant would destroy you anyway."
Dutch, struggling to breathe, to speak, rasped, "I've seen…a lot of…servants…"
Huggy shook his head. "Not like him."
Him? He would have asked the bear what he was talking about. But it was becoming increasingly difficult to breathe, let alone speak.
"I'm a survivor," Huggy said, blood dripping from his mouth, where Dutch had punched him. "But I…"
He trailed off. The shadow cast over him…it was spreading. Covering everything. Blocking out the light of the sun, even as it rose in the sky. Huggy lifted his gaze, and so did Dutch. Even as he struggled to maintain consciousness.
"What in the world?"
If Dutch had been able to speak, he would have been able to tell Huggy that the ship descending through the clouds was a GUN strato-carrier. Except, as the bear dropped him, and his vision began to clear, he would have had to rectify that statement. Because it wasn't a strato-carrier. The pride of the United Federation Air Fleet, strato-carriers were big, sleek, and grey. As large as aircraft carriers, and able to hold just as many planes, brimming inside with everything from laser turrets to Beetle drones. This craft, however, was painted white and blue. Smaller. Stockier. And not like any atmospheric vehicle he'd ever seen.
He'd have taken some time to marvel at it if not for the single red projectile that came shooting downward. Like a meteor from the heavens itself.
"No," Huggy whispered, backing away. "No…not now…not him!"
Dutch, for a moment, wondered what Huggy was talking about. Wondered why he was firing at a projectile with his wispon. Wondered how the projectile was able to alter its angle of descent so easily. Wondered how, as the projectile came into view, how he thought it was a projectile at all.
"No no no no no!"
The ground shuddered as the not-projectile hit the ground. Dutch almost cried out, as the vibrations shook his chest. But it didn't matter. Huggy was terrified. And as the bear looked into the eyes of Knuckles the Echidna, that same monotreme he'd seen on the monitors in Omega Site more than once…every piece of intelligence Dutch had on the former guardian of Angel Island and current leader of the Resistance indicated that the traitor should be.
Even if the intelligence didn't say that, as Huggy's wispon extended a chain of lightning, only for Knuckles to grab the beam and use it to fling Huggy into a wall…yeah, he would have had come to that conclusion anyway.
"Huggy Bear," the echidna growled. "Amy said you'd thrown in your lot with Eggman, but-"
The former mayor of Crescent View used his wispon to fire a small orange rocket. Knuckles simply sidestepped and kept walking over to him, unperturbed by the resulting debris.
"…but I never believed it. I thought Crescent View was-"
Huggy fired a green shockwave. It thankfully missed Dutch, and Knuckles, who in the flick of an eye, burrowed underground, before re-emerging, ever closer to the bear.
"…lost forever. But now I find you leading your people to the Eggman Empire and-"
Huggy, letting out a squeal, pointed the wispon down to the ground, and to Dutch's shock, a pillar of blue cubes appeared under him. Taking him upwards. Clearly, he was trying to get away. But with just as much speed, jumping up and gliding upwards, Knuckles ploughed into the bear, sending the traitor toppling. Hitting the ground hard. And the former guardian landed beside him, grabbing the bear by the scruff of his neck, while kicking the wispon aside, causing the blue cubes to disappear.
"…find you attacking a GUN trooper." Knuckles sighed. "Anything to say for yourself?"
Huggy opened his mouth, but Knuckles, with his spare hand, struck him over the head.
"Didn't think so."
Dutch stared, as Huggy's limp body fell. Stared, as the echidna slowly turned to face him. By human standards, he was short – just over a metre tall – but with Dutch lying against the wall, their eyes were able to meet. And in the eyes of the guardian, of the last member of the echidna species…there was…something. Respect? Understanding? He couldn't say. During the Black Arms invasion, the echidna had been sighted in Central City, defusing what bombs he could and saving the United Federation's capital from being completely destroyed. Partially destroyed, yes, but then, like now, beggars couldn't be choosers.
"We'll take it from here," Knuckles said.
Even if it pained him to talk, Dutch whispered, "we?"
The echidna nodded to the sky, and Dutch followed his gaze.
More creatures. One of them silver. One of them green, purple, and black, or as they came into view, a black bee, carrying a purple chameleon, in turn carrying a giant green crocodile. And many more, bringing up the rear. Birds, beasts, and other creatures. Many of them descending via platforms. Standing in formation. Wearing green-tan uniforms Carrying wispons of all sizes and colours. Like angels, descending into the mouth of Hell.
"The Resistance?" Dutch whispered.
Knuckles nodded, and extended a hand. "The Resistance."
Dutch stared, his blue eyes meeting the echidna's violet. Thinking of what he could say. Of those, like the man mere feet away, who would never speak again. Thinking, however briefly, of what Huggy Bear would have to say for himself once he regained consciousness.
Thinking, before finally, acting…taking the echidna's gloved hand with his own. Pulled to his feet, so that he was standing over the guardian of the Master Emerald, yet still, as the sun continued to rise, remaining in his shadow.
"What took you so long?" the commando murmured.
For the first time since he'd arrived, the echidna smiled.
And so too, did Colonel Dutch Warner.
A/N
So, per my author's note in the prologue, this is the spoiler that gave me the idea to drabble this up, namely, Knuckles. As in, a "guardian" of Angel Island meets a "guardian" of GUN, so to speak. Usually that would just form the basis for a oneshot, but this ended up becoming a multi-chapter instead.