It all started a few years back…

There I was. Disgraced. Rejected. Everything I ever had, everything I ever wanted, ripped away with those two words. "You're done." But it wasn't my job that vanished from my grasp in that instant. It was justice. It was the truth. The killer was about to walk away, and it was all my fault. "I must be the worst detective in history," I thought. How did I get here? How did it come to this? Well, it all started earlier that morning.

I'd been with the force for years, clawing my way up until they had no choice but to make me Detective. It was a different world back then. A lot less…colorful. Windopolis was a human city. And a lot of them didn't take too kindly to the thought of an animoid like me serving with the city's finest. But I was determined to prove them wrong. I cracked one cold case after another, until my boss started to take notice. Chief Dunham was a good man. He knew how to put the safety of the people first, no matter the cost. He was never afraid to do what he knew needed to be done. In the end, that's what got him killed. And that's how the mystery began. The mystery that would change my life forever.

Sonic the Hedgehog: The Chaos Project

Season 2, Episode 8

Who Framed Espio the Chameleon!?

Written by ChaosProjectAuthor

Narrated by Vector the Crocodile

Windopolis City

Present day

"Vector, we've got company!" Sonic stands at a dim street corner, watching as a small squadron of Police Pawns approaches.

A short distance behind him, Vector kneels down to speak to a young human girl, perhaps six years old, who appears to be in tears. Vector, with a pad and pencil in hand, assuages, "Hey, everything's gonna be alright, okay? You said he disappeared two weeks ago?" The girl nods, and he writes it down. "And what's your dad's name?"

The girl chokes out, "M-Montse. Dixon Montse."

Vector nearly drops his pencil.

Dixon Montse. Now that was a name I hadn't heard in a very long time. I never knew he had a kid. Then again, there was a lot I didn't know about him. I should've guessed that my old life would have to show up again someday. Except that it wasn't him who showed up. He disappeared, left his own kid all alone. It had to be something sinister going on. And if I couldn't get to the bottom of it, I knew there would be consequences.

Sonic shouts more fervently, "Any time now, Vector!"

Vector seems to ignore him, repeating, "Everything's gonna be alright. I'm a detective."

The girl looks up with renewed hope. "Really?"

"I'm gonna find your dad, don't you worry." With that said, Vector gets up and runs to join Sonic, who has already begun fighting off the robots. Vector slams his fist into one that approaches Sonic from behind.

Sonic greets, "Took you long enough. Let's get out of here." He revs up a Spin Dash, and crashes through the nearest robot.

"We can't go now! That girl, her dad is missing! We need to help!" He rips off the arm of one robot, and throws the body into the one behind it, causing them both to explode.

"We don't have time to solve everyone's problems right now, Vector! If we don't get out of here now, Eggman's entire army will be on us!" Sonic chains a Spin Attack over three different robots, clearing a path ahead. "Come on, let's go!" He runs forward, giving Vector no chance to argue.

Vector glances back at the girl, who still looks to him hopefully. He turns back forward with a growl, and runs to follow Sonic.

—–—

Daily Log, April 25th, 1 A.E. Vector the Crocodile reporting.

Sonic decided last-minute that he just had to go on recon with us, so naturally, it was a disaster. Probably, someone just recognized him under the hood, and called it in to the police. That's the problem with being the most famous hedgehog in the world. I know it's not his fault, but… rrgh. In my line of work, the last thing you want is to get noticed. But standing next to him is like holding up a big neon sign that says, "Hey, look here, I'm a target!"

We're supposed to be in this to help people. But today, I failed that job. Someone needed my help, and I let them down, because the team had to come first. Saving Sonic's behind had to come first. And it makes me wonder… Am I really doing the most I can here? Am I really… Am I really better off with this team?

This wouldn't have been a problem back in the old days. I can't help but think back to how this all started…

—–—

Windopolis City

Several years ago

It was a cold morning in the Windy City. The kind of cold that digs through right to your bones and leaves you wondering why you never considered wearing pants. But in my office, it was nice and warm. Sheltered from the harsh reality of the outside world, or so I thought. But that was all about to come crashing down on me.

On a wooden desk in the center of a modest and slightly dusty office, lit by the sunlight filtering in through the blinds, a shiny nameplate reads, "Detective Vector." Vector leans back in the chair, his feet crossed up on the desk, jamming out to the music playing through his old-fashioned on-the-ear headphones.

A knock comes at the door to the office, and it is quickly opened by a tall man in a brown suit with a well-groomed mustache.

Vector flicks a button on his tape player to pause the music, and pulls off his headphones, greeting, "Dix! You're in early today."

The man, Dixon, answers as he comfortably leans back against the nearest wall, "Yeah, they called me in for something or other this morning. Didn't get any details, as usual, just a few articles of evidence that're being analyzed now. You haven't heard anything about it, have you?"

"Nope. It's been a quiet morning for me."

"Huh. Must not be a very big deal, then. So how'd things go with that promotion the other day?"

"Promotion?" Vector waves off the idea. "Oh, I turned 'em down. I'm a detective at heart, why should I want to be a supervisor? It's more paperwork and less action."

"Some would argue you're wasting your talents. Your paperwork's legendary around here. We're always getting compared to you. 'Why can't your report be more like Vector's?'"

"Chief Dunham really said that about me?"

"I didn't say it was him. It could've been Captain Graff."

Vector rolls his eyes. "Right. As if Captain Graff has a nice bone in his body."

"Hey, he's not all bad. A little strict, sure, but it's really just you he hates."

"Me and the Chief who made sure I kept my job this long, despite Graff's best efforts." The two share a laugh. Vector continues, "If you wanna talk about wasting my talents, you should call up that old jazz club and put in a good word for me. Ma' always said I belonged in show biz."

This causes Dixon to start cracking up. "You, a jazz singer? Have you heard yourself? Your voice is karaoke level at best."

"Hey! I'll have you know, I've been told multiple times that my voice sounds just like the lead singer of the Chaotix."

"Chaotix? That oldies band the Chief likes? They're…not exactly popular, you know."

"What's your point?" Another knock comes at the door, and Vector looks up. "Right on time as usual. Come on in, Stewart!"

The door is opened by a young man quite a bit on the shorter side, with a messy head of dark hair. He wears a bright smile on his face, and carries a tray of coffee cups in his gloved hands. "Morning, Detective!" He pulls up one of the coffees, and sets it down on Vector's desk, shaking off his hand as soon as he lets go. "Full city roast, black, piping hot. As always."

Vector takes the cup with a smile. "Much appreciated."

Stewart next turns to Dixon. "And you must be Officer Montse." He takes another cup from the tray, and holds it out to him. "You like yours with two sugars, right?"

Perplexed, Dixon hesitantly accepts the cup. "Uhh… Yeah. How did you…?"

Vector realizes, "You two haven't met, have you? Dix, this is Stewart, he's pretty new around here, only working the morning shifts."

Stewart continues, "Vector's told me all about you, and I heard you might be coming in early today. It's nice to meet you, sir. You're in charge of the forensics lab, right? That's where I'm hoping to go."

Dixon nods in understanding. "Is that so? Well…" He takes a sip of his coffee. "…I'd be happy to show you around the lab sometime."

This seems to excite him. "Wow, really? That'd be great!"

"Sure. Meet me there when your shift's over."

"Thank you very much, sir. I'd better get back to delivering these."

Vector waves farewell as Stewart exits. "Same time tomorrow." He takes a long swig of his own coffee. "That's the stuff. I don't know how this kid does it, but he gets me the perfect cup every time."

Dixon eyes Vector questioningly. "Is there a story? I sense a story."

Vector answers, "Not a very long one, unfortunately." He stares out at the door for a few moments. "Poor kid lost his mom when he was pretty young. Case went cold. I looked into it, too, but there was nothing but dead ends. He wants to be the one to solve the case himself, that's why he's here. He's got a ways to go, but he'll make a good Detective. He's got the right spark. I know it when I see it."

"If you say so. So anyways, you—"

The next visitor doesn't bother to knock, pushing his way through the door with a folder held high in his hand. Though he does not appear particularly old, his heavy brow gives him a stern appearance. "Got a job for you, Gator." He drops the folder onto the desk, forcing Vector to lift up his coffee to stop it from being knocked over.

Vector seems to take a moment to compose himself before responding. "Captain Graff. I have two problems. First, I've told you before, I'm a crocodile, not an alligator. Second, I only take jobs from the Chief."

Graff's expression doesn't change in the slightest. "That's the problem. Take a look at the victim."

Vector continues to eye Graff suspiciously as he slides the folder over to himself, and opens it to look inside. His eyes go wide at what he sees. "Good God, Chief Dunham is dead!?"

Dixon chokes on his coffee. Graff momentarily throws him a disapproving glare, before looking back at Vector. "This'll be an easy one, even for you. We've already identified the perp, we just need you to pay him a visit, ask him a few procedural questions, then bring him in."

"Whoa, whoa, slow down. I'm supposed to be the Detective around here, why wasn't I made aware of the investigation?"

"Because it wasn't much of an investigation. The murder weapon made it pretty obvious." Graff pulls out a clear evidence bag, displaying the weapon for Vector to see. Streaked with red on one of its four sharp points, the simplistic ninja shuriken star reflects a glint from the light in the windows.

"Well that's not something you see every day."

Graff drops the bag onto Vector's desk as well. "Perpetrator's name is Espio, species Chameleon, lives in a shoddy hut out in the suburbs. He collects these, and his fingerprints were all over it. The case is already closed, all you have to do is bring him in. Get to it, Gator." He turns to leave before Vector can object, but stops at the door. "This isn't your post, Montse. If you're on the clock, then get back to work."

Vector and Dixon both watch silently as Graff exits.

The game was on. Already, things weren't adding up. Why'd Graff keep me out of the investigation? Why bring me in just for the arrest? And who was this Espio character? As usual, I only had one choice. Take the truth into my own hands.

—–—

So I had one stop to make before I left the precinct.

"His name's Espio the Chameleon. Do we have anything on him, Rosa?"

A tall woman in uniform adjusts her glasses as she thinks. "Chameleon… I believe we do, let me take a look here." She turns back to a row of filing cabinets in the back of the room, and opens a drawer near the bottom. "Let's see here… Non-humans… Male… Chameleon… Here it is." She pulls out a folder and takes a look inside. "That's right, I remember this one. Came in a few months ago, charged with aggravated assault. Profiled as highly aggressive and temperamental. Got off on a self-defense plea. Doesn't seem right, if you ask me."

"Who brought him in?"

"It…looks like it was Captain Graff. You said you need this guy's address, right? Here, take a look." She hands over the file.

Vector's attention is immediately drawn to the mugshot photograph of Espio clipped to the folder, showing him with a stern expression, holding up a placard with a pair of simple white gloves. The gloves, especially, seem to hold Vector's gaze. "Espio… You wouldn't be leaving behind many fingerprints wearing those, would you?"

"Say again?"

Vector looks back up from his thoughts. "Oh, nothing. Just some pre-investigative speculation. You don't know anything else about this guy, do you? That isn't on the record?"

Rosa shakes her head. "Nothing that I can remember."

Vector turns with a wave. "Well, thanks for the help."

"No problem, Vector. Good luck with the case."

Vector continues to stare at the photograph as he continues on his way out. By the door, he grabs one of several fedoras hung up on a row of hooks, and settles it down onto his own head. Little does he notice, just as he exits through one door, someone else enters through another—a young bee with a look of worry on his face.

Good luck is one thing that a Detective can never count on. But the way things were stacking up, I was beginning to feel like I would need it. I was going to ask this "Espio" a few questions. But they may not be the same questions Graff had in mind.

—–—

Present day

"Why'd he even have to come, Espio? He ruined everything just by being there!"

Espio, sitting on the mat on his side of the tent, calmly uses a cloth to polish a kunai knife. "He simply wanted to save time by gathering intelligence himself instead of waiting for us to deliver it to him. It made sense, in theory. He can't help his own large profile. But there's nothing we can do about it now."

"He can't help it, but we can. We should keep him off our missions from now on."

"We may not always have that option. We're part of a team, and we must abide by Sonic's plans."

"So he gets us spotted when we're trying to lay low, and we just have to deal with it!?"

Espio turns the blade of his kunai until he finds Vector in its reflection. He sarcastically mutters, "Gee. I wonder what that's like."

Vector suddenly stands in frustration. "Good. It sounds like you don't need my help anyways."

As Vector marches towards the exit, Espio questions, "Where are you going?"

Without stopping, Vector answers simply, "To increase my options."

—–—

Vector forcefully pushes a piece of paper onto Sonic's desk. Sonic looks up in confusion. "What's this?"

"This is my resignation. I'm leaving the Rebellion." To prove it, he drops a small green shard of the Master Emerald on top of his note.

—–—

Several years ago

Espio's simple wooden hut, most likely self-built, stands out in stark contrast to the other suburban homes visible nearby. Vector pounds the side of a fist against the sliding wooden door. "Detective Vector, WPD. I'm here to ask you a few questions." He waits for an answer, but receives none. Pounding on the door again, he adds, "I have a warrant. I'm coming in whether you invite me or not." After another moment, he concludes, "Last warning." He grabs the side of the door and throws it open, apparently unlocked. He is greeted on the other side by the glint of sharpened metal cutting through the air on a path straight towards him. "Gah!" Vector throws up his arms to protect his face, but the path of the thrown shuriken star curves upwards at the last moment, sticking into the wall above the door frame with a resounding "thunk."

Espio, with simple shoes to match his undecorated gloves, sits with his eyes closed on a mat in the center of the room. "You aren't welcome here. I wish to be left alone."

Vector repeats with slightly less confidence than before, "I have a warrant." After a moment, he adds, "And you just threatened the life of an officer of the law."

Espio, still without opening his eyes, points above Vector's head. "It wasn't intended for you."

Vector looks up to the spot on the wall where the star hit, gasping in surprise when he realizes that it has impaled a small spider, pinning it to the wall with unfathomable precision. "Whoa…" His eyes narrow in thought. "Do you have a permit for these things?"

"Do you have a permit for the knives in your kitchen drawer? My shuriken are tools, not weapons. Now answer me this. What do you want?"

Vector clears his throat and begins, "I need to ask you a few questions about the incident–"

Espio interrupts, "That man was trespassing on my property, as you are now. I was defending my home from his unwarranted invasion."

"You really think you can get off like that twice?"

Espio finally opens an eye. "Twice?"

"I…was referring to the incident that occurred late last night."

"Last night? In that case, I can't help you. I was alone in this room for the duration of last night, I'm not aware of any incident."

"You got an alibi for that?"

"What exactly does the word 'alone' mean to you? Because I'm getting the impression that your understanding of the word is different than mine."

Officially fed up, Vector stomps towards Espio and leans in close to his face. "Alright, bub, you're gonna quit being smart with me here and now. There's a good man who's dead, and he was killed by your weapon, so if you aren't going to cooperate, then I'll drag you off to a cell right now!"

Espio slowly stands, closing his eyes again. "You're testing my thin patience. Ask your questions quickly, or I may lose my temper."

Vector seems to take the warning seriously, as he pulls out the evidence bag containing the murder weapon. "Does this belong to you?"

Espio gasps at the sight of it. "Where did you get that!?" Without waiting for an answer, he swipes it from Vector's hand and runs it to the back of the room, where the oil paper window provides more light.

"Hey, give that back! You can't have that, it's evidence!"

"This is one of my most treasured possessions. A rare and valuable artifact. And you…defiled it." He clenches a fist in growing rage.

"Hey, I didn't do anything with it. But someone did, and I'm trying to figure out who. You've yet to give me a convincing reason why I shouldn't believe it was you."

Espio takes a long breath, slowly trying to calm himself. He mutters just loudly enough to be heard, "Focus. Panic is the enemy. Do not become your own enemy. Do not let your emotions take control." He takes another long breath. Finally, he turns around, and offers the object back. "Who was it? Who was killed?"

Vector snatches it back with a distrusting glare. Regardless, he pulls out the file, and slips out a photograph to show Espio. "Charles Dunham, Chief of Police. Crime scene look familiar to you?"

Espio takes the photo and examines it carefully. "Is there any other evidence suggesting that I was involved?"

"You mean, besides your fingerprints all over the weapon?"

Espio once again corrects, "Tool, not weapon. And that's impossible. I've never handled this shuriken without my gloves, my prints couldn't possibly be on it."

Vector nods slowly. "I suspected as much."

"And you're certain it was my shuriken that inflicted this wound?" He points to a particular spot on the photo.

"Are you implying that it wasn't? The weapon was found covered in his blood."

"If my tool was used in this way, then it was clearly being handled by a novice. Look at this wound. Jagged and uneven. It was made by a stab and a slice, which is not at all how it was designed to be used."

"That's hardly solid evidence. Who's to say you didn't handle it wrong on purpose?"

"You can even see the consequences of its mishandling here. See how the wound widens at the end? The tool was turned sharply and suddenly, as if by an instinctual reaction. The wielder must have accidentally sliced his own hand on one of the opposite edges."

Vector holds the evidence bag up to the light. "Only the one edge is stained. But…if it was left behind intentionally for the purpose of drawing attention to you, then the opposite edge very well could've been cleaned before it was dropped. Alright, I'll bite on this lead. Tell me, why did some novice have possession of your most valuable tool?"

"It was stolen from me some time ago. This is the first I've seen it since."

"Stolen? Did you report it to the police?"

"No."

"Well why not!? It's your prized possession, isn't it!?"

"I'm sorry, did I give you the impression that I trust the police? At all? My mistake. I don't."

"What did I tell you about getting smart with me, bub? We'd be having a much different conversation now if you'd provided proof that you didn't have this before it was used to murder somebody."

"It was my intention to track it down and retrieve it before something like this could happen. I've been spending my recent time analyzing the evidence."

"Yourself? What, are you a private eye or something?"

"That's what I write under 'occupation'. Saves time that way."

"Right. You, a detective. No, I don't see it."

Espio crosses his arms impatiently.

"So do you know who took it, or not?"

"Well…no. B-but…my investigation…wasn't quite…" Espio trails off.

"Wow. Bravo. I'm sure your clients are all very happy with your work, Detective."

Espio appears displeased. "If you're only here to insult me, you can leave now."

"I don't think you understand how this works, bub. You still haven't proven anything. Which means I'm obligated to place you under arrest. But…" Vector glances back over his shoulder, as if checking to make sure that no one is listening. He continues at a lower volume, "…I know how to read 'em, and I don't think you did it. But I don't have any proof." He reverts to a normal tone of voice. "So I'm taking you back to the precinct. The long way. If you want to help me clear your name, that's up to you, but you're coming whether you like it or not. So am I getting out the cuffs, or are you gonna do the smart thing?"

Espio closes his eyes with a low growl. "If I must. Lead the way."

I wasn't sure what it was, exactly. Just one of those feelings that comes out from deep in your gut. I knew Espio was innocent. Maybe he wasn't a nice guy. Maybe he was a hothead, like the records said. But he was something else, too. He was honest. More honest than anyone I'd ever met before. Maybe it was something I saw in his eyes. Or maybe it was just the way he never held back what was on his mind. But whatever it was…I already knew that I could trust this jerk with my life.

—–—

"Thanks for coming, Stewart." Vector cautiously hands over the evidence bag. "I need you to run this back to Dix, tell him to put it through the wringer. I need it double-checked for any prints or DNA evidence that hasn't already been documented."

Stewart, now with a hat similar to Vector's covering his hair, gives a nod with a smile. "No problem at all. Anything else I can do for you?"

"Yeah. Keep it on the down-low. No one hears about this except Dix. If anyone else asks, you haven't seen me. Got it?"

"Uhh…yeah, if you say so. Good luck with the investigation, Vector." Sewart turns, waving in farewell.

Vector nods in satisfaction as he watches him run down the road to complete his assigned task. "I told you, Stewart's a good kid. You didn't have to hide."

Espio steps out slowly from the shadows of the street corner. "Can't be too careful. If someone is trying to frame me for this murder, then it's better that fewer people know my whereabouts, regardless of intent." He stares off in the direction that Stewart ran.

Vector seems to read into his gaze. "Hey, don't you worry. You'll get it right back once this is all over, you have my word on that."

Espio walks the rest of the way to Vector, and they continue to walk together in another direction.

"So what's the big deal about that ninja star, anyways? Even the one you tried to off me with looked fancier than that."

"It isn't the design that's important. That shuriken…was crafted by an ancient master. I've been…studying his work, as of late. He has much wisdom to share. My wish is to someday master his teachings."

"Oh. I see…"

Espio walks on in silence, seeming to contemplate something. "The man who was killed…Dunham… Did you know him?"

Vector's gaze moves towards the ground. "He was my boss…and…something of a mentor. He taught me a lot of what I know now about detective work. Tomorrow he's…I mean…he was…" He shakes his head and trails off. "I can still hardly believe he's dead. Can't believe someone would…"

"There are some truly evil people in this world. People who would rip away all that the rest of us have ever fought for. If we remain vigilant, we can hope to spot such people before they succeed. But some hide so convincingly among us that we can only wait until they are revealed by their own misdeeds."

Vector nods. "That's the job of an investigator. To pick up the pieces after the damage has already been done. It's not always a glamorous job. But for someone, somewhere, you're always setting the world back a little closer to the way it should be." He stops as they reach a modest house that looks much like the others on the street. "We're here."

"Where's here?"

"3210 Carnival Street. The Dunham residence."

"His home? Do you not think this place would have been thoroughly investigated already?"

"I may not be willing to point any fingers yet, but we can't discount the possibility that whoever is trying to frame you may have been involved in the investigation as well. After all, someone would've had to plant or lie about your prints."

"Someone in your department?"

"Not pointing any fingers yet. More importantly, there's a rule I've learned over the years about investigating a case like this." Vector begins climbing the short flight of steps to the front door. "Always question the spouse." He knocks on the door a bit more gently than he did on Espio's. "I'm gonna need your eyes on this. Just look out for anything suspicious."

The door is partially opened, revealing the face of a middle-aged woman with long, dark hair. "Oh…Detective… Is there…something I can help you with?"

Vector takes off his hat and places it over his chest as he bows down his head. "Mrs. Dunham, I'd like to start by saying how sorry I am for your loss. But, if it's alright with you, I would very much like to ask you a few questions about your husband."

"Yes… Of course…" She opens the door the rest of the way. "Please, come in."

Vector accepts the invitation, and waves for Espio to follow.

Mrs. Dunham notices him for the first time. "I don't believe we've met."

Vector quickly explains, "This is my…associate, Espio. He's also an investigator." Espio nods silently.

"Well…please, both of you, feel free to have a seat." The interior of the home is well lived in, decorated with paintings and photographs, many of them depicting Mrs. Dunham and what must be Mr. Dunham, as well as at least two of their children at varying ages. Vector once again accepts the invitation, seating himself on the simple sofa in the living room. "Is there anything I can get for the two of you?"

"No, that's quite alright, ma'am. We'd like to get started as quickly as possible."

Mrs. Dunham sits in a cushioned armchair matching the sofa across from them. "What is it that you wanted to ask?'

Vector gets right to it. "I'm sure you've already been asked questions like this, but we wanted to double-check. Do you have any idea why Mr. Dunham might have been killed?"

Mrs. Dunham lowers her eyes and shakes her head. "Charles was a good man, I can't imagine why…" She can't seem to finish the thought.

"Are you certain that you don't know of anything? He didn't owe money to anyone? He never received any threats at work? No jealous ex-lovers that you're aware of?"

She shakes her head again, still keeping her eyes on the floor.

"I see. Well…what about yourself, ma'am? How have you been holding up through all this?"

"Me? Well…I… To tell the truth, I…" She takes a moment to collect her thoughts. "Ever since the children moved out, our relationship hasn't been…quite the same. But I–…I never imagined–" She begins to sob. "I never thought someone would–"

Vector suddenly stands. "Ma'am, I'm so sorry to have upset you. My associate and I will leave you alone now."

"No, no, I'm the one who's sorry, please, if you have any more questions—"

"We don't, thank you for your time." Vector and Espio quickly make for the door.

Once outside, Espio immediately reports, "I didn't notice anything out of the ordinary, although…you might even say it was…too normal. The home was recently cleaned, nothing was out of place. It's a lot for one person as upset as she was to get done in such a short time."

Vector nods. "My thoughts exactly. Crocodile tears, through and through. She's holding back something. Something big."

"Or…she's been using manual labor as a means of drowning out her perfectly normal emotions."

"I already told you, Espio. I know how to read 'em. I promise you, she is hiding something."

"And what are you proposing we do about it?"

"Detectiving 101. A stakeout."

"You're suggesting that we wait here for who-knows-how-many hours, hoping for something to happen that may or may not relate to this case, when there's a killer on the loose we're trying to find?"

"Right now, this is the best clue we have. Do you have a better suggestion?"

"Yes. Perhaps we should investigate the crime scene? Doesn't the criminal always return there?"

"That's just a cliche from the movies. You have to trust me on this one. We'll find something here. I feel it in my gut."

"Well maybe you should start thinking with your head, instead of your digestive tract."

"Quick reminder that you're still under arrest. If your plan is to leave, I can still break out the cuffs."

Espio rolls his eyes. "Fine. Have it your way."

Vector steps into the bushes to the side of the stairway leading up to the front door, and ducks down to hide himself there. "Stick with me, kid." He pulls out a stick of ordinary chewing gum, and pops it into his mouth. "I may just make a good detective out of you yet."

—–—

Several hours later…

Vector has fallen asleep in the bushes. Espio elbows him in the ribs, and he jerks awake. "Huh, wha, whozzat?" Vector looks around in confusion. "Ugh. This is why I should always finish my coffee before I leave the office."

Espio forcefully shoves his head down, whispering through gritted teeth, "Someone's coming!"

Vector immediately hunches down to get a look for himself. Through breaks in the thicket, a tall man with a heavy brow can be seen, now wearing a uniform fedora. He turns and heads up the steps to the front door, quickly disappearing from view. Vector whispers, "Graff. What's he doing here?"

In response to Graff's knock, the door can be heard opening. Mrs. Dunham's voice greets, "Vincent? Come in, come in." The door is hurriedly closed behind him.

"Well that sounded vaguely suspicious." Vector moves to put his ear up against the wall of the house, listening for voices. All that can be heard are faint mumbles. "Gah. Can't hear anything from here."

Espio rises to his feet. "I can handle it." He throws his fingers together in a handsign. "Ninja Arts: Camouflage!" The leaves around his feet rustle slightly as the color of his skin begins to shift, moving in a wave down his body until it imperfectly matches the colors of his surroundings.

Vector watches on in surprise. "Whoa. That trick wasn't in your file."

Espio has already begun scaling the wall. "I try not to advertise my abilities to my enemies." Espio reaches a window into the living room, and carefully slides it up just a crack. Immediately, the voices inside drift out with greater clarity.

Mrs. Dunham's voice wavers, "I…I don't know, Vincent. This feels wrong."

Graff answers, "You don't have to worry anymore, Elena. It's all over now. And you deserve to be happy again."

"But it was only yesterday, he—…"

"Life must go on, Elena. And this is yours."

"Thank you." She begins to sob. "Thank you."

Vector marches out of the bushes with a look of resolve on his face. "I've heard enough."

Espio whisper-shouts to him from the wall, "Vector, no!"

Vector ignores him as he makes it up the last of the steps, and throws the door wide open. "So!" Graff and Dunham, caught in an embrace, both look over with shock. "Had a little secret you didn't want the Chief to find out about, is that it? Is that why he's dead, Graff?"

Graff takes a step in front of Mrs. Dunham. "You are way out of line this time, Gator." He begins to march closer to Vector. "You have just unlawfully entered this citizen's home, falsely accused an officer of the law of a very serious crime, and…" He looks past Vector as he sees that Espio, undisguised, has run to a stop behind him. "…all while associating with a wanted suspect."

"But I heard—"

"Not that it's any of your business, Gator, but I happened to be here to deliver some of Chief Dunham's personal belongings to his wife, who is also an old friend of mine. You, on the other hand, have no business here, and have made a complete mockery of this profession." As he stops at Vector's side, he concludes firmly, "Go clean out your desk. You're done."

Vector freezes in place, mouth agape.

Graff continues to walk past him. "And you, Espio the Chameleon, are under arrest…" The handcuff snaps into place. "…for the suspected murder of Charles Dunham." Espio looks to Vector with a mixture of anger, confusion, and fear. But the only response he gets is from Graff. "You have the right to remain silent." As he begins to lead Espio out, he stops for one last comment. "Please ask Mrs. Dunham if she wants to press charges against you, Gator. If you have any dignity at all, you'll at least get that taken care of before your termination goes through." He proceeds out through the door, pushing Espio along in front of him.

"Detective…?"

Vector is pulled suddenly from his thoughts. "Mrs. Dunham, I'm so sorry to have… What I mean to say is, if you wish—"

She takes his hand. "Charles spoke nothing but the best about you. He said that the truth never got past you. And he was right. Because I do have a secret."

"Ma'am, after what I've done, I have no right—"

"Someone has to know. Several years ago…Charles became involved with some very bad people. I don't know who they are, or what they wanted, but I know that my life was being held as leverage to control him. When he died…and I didn't…it was a relief. But I never wanted this to happen to him. So please. Find the person who did this to him."

Vector looks down to the ground. "I only wish that I could…"

So there I was. Disgraced. Rejected. Everything I ever had, everything I ever wanted, ripped away with those two words. "You're done." And I brought it all on myself. But worse than that, I brought it on my friend. In my insatiable thirst for justice, in my anger that something so terrible could happen to someone so good, I became blinded to everything but what I wanted to see. I'd forgotten the most important detective rule of all. That the most important quality for a detective to have isn't guts, or good looks, or even a craving for justice, though all of those are very important. No. What's most important is compassion. And that's what I'd forgotten on that day. I saw everyone in the world as a mystery to solve, instead of a friend to reach out to. I'd forgotten my compassion, and I needed someone to help me find it again.

—–—

Present day

"You're just going to leave us? In the middle of a war? To go where, exactly?"

Vector eyes Sonic unflinchingly. "Wherever I'm needed. The point of the Rebellion is to help everyone in the world, and I understand that, but while we're busy trying, everyone's still suffering. Me alone, I can't help everyone. But I can help as many people as I have the power to, people who need my help right now. I can do that alone. But I can't do that as a part of this team. So I'm leaving."

"What about the Chaotix?"

"Charmy doesn't need me anymore, and Espio never did. They can look out for each other. And before you ask, Espio can handle recon just fine without me, I've only ever slowed him down. You can't change my mind about this."

"I wasn't planning on it."

"That is completely—wait, what?"

"Everyone here is here by choice. If you want to go, then go. I know exactly how you're feeling, because I feel the same way. I can't stand how…out-of-touch I am with the rest of the world here. That's why I wanted to go with you on this mission. To get another look at what I'm fighting for. And I see that it hit you even harder than it did me. So I won't try to stop you. But only on three conditions. One, stay in contact. If we need backup, we need to know where to find you. Two, watch your back. The last thing we need right now is to lose a friend. And three…if you're doing this to help people, try not to charge them too much for your services?"

"No promises on that last one. But I'll do my best."

"It doesn't make me happy to see you go, Vector. But I hope you find what you're looking for out there."

—–—

A twig breaks underfoot as Vector steps through the forested area of the canyon. He stops to look up at the starry sky. "I've already made up my mind. Back off."

Espio steps slowly out of the shadows. "You're making a mistake, Vector."

Charmy flies out from behind him, a concerned expression on his face. "Vector…I don't understand. Where are you going?"

Vector, still staring up at the sky, closes his eyes. "You shouldn't have brought the kid, Espio. He didn't need to see this."

Espio narrows his eyes. "I needed you to see reason. This is what you always do, Vector. You act on impulse alone. It isn't safe for us out there, and you know it. You can't go on your own. And we can't go with you. So you'll stay."

Charmy shakes his head in confusion. "Why would you leave? That doesn't make any sense. Someone, please tell me what's going on here."

Espio presses, "You remember the day we all met, don't you? We promised we'd stick together."

Vector slowly lowers his head. "Of course I remember. What I learned on that day…is exactly the reason why I have to go."

—–—

Several years ago

Vector stomps into the precinct, not bothering to hang up his hat as he marches straight to his office, slamming the door behind him. He presses his hands down on the surface of his desk as he clenches his eyes shut and growls to himself. His eyes open on the name placard propped up beneath him. "Detective Vector." In a renewed rage, he grabs it from the desk, snaps it like a twig in his hands, and tosses the pieces in the vague direction of a nearby wastebin. "Detective…" He shakes his head. "I'm no detective. I'm a fraud."

A knock comes at his office door. "Hey, Vector? Do you think you could…help me out with something in Interrogation Room 2?"

Vector takes a breath to steady himself. "Can't help you, Rosa. Just got canned."

Rosa cautiously opens the door to look inside. "I…I know, I already heard. But…you've always been good with getting answers out of someone who won't talk. And, technically, you still work here until the paperwork goes through, so… If you wouldn't mind, you'd be doing me a big favor. But I'd understand if you'd rather be left alone."

Vector closes his eyes and clenches a fist. "No, you're right. I shouldn't be moping around when I still have a few hours left to do my job." He walks up to her, and she leads him out of the office and around through the building. "So what's the situation?"

"It's, ahh…not exactly a typical interrogation." They stop at a tinted window, looking in on a simple white room, where a young bee sits at a plain metal table, folding his hands anxiously. "Poor kid came in here this morning scared half to death. I sat him down in here, but I haven't gotten a single word out of him all day, not even a name. He's not in our records, as far as I was able to tell, and we can't call his parents without knowing who they are. Think you might be able to get through to him?"

Vector nods. "I'll see what I can do. Give me a few minutes alone with him." He opens the door into the interrogation room.

Immediately, the bee jumps back with an involuntary gasp.

Vector holds his hands up in a show of good faith. "Hey, hey, everything's alright." He gently closes the door behind him. "My name's Vector, I'm a… I'm an investigator." He gestures towards the empty chair across from the boy. "Is it alright if I sit here?"

The boy seems fixated on Vector's hat. After a few moments of staring, he bites his lip and gives a shaky nod.

Vector smiles as he takes the seat. "So what's your name?"

The boy stares down at the table. After a while, it becomes clear that he doesn't plan on answering.

Vector moves on. "I heard that it looked like something was wrong when you came in here this morning. Are you lost?"

After a short moment of hesitation, he shakes his head. "Mm-mm."

"But something was wrong, right? You don't walk into a police station like that unless you need someone's help. Just tell me what's the matter, let me help you."

He bites his lip again as his eyes dart back and forth in contemplation. But then he clenches his eyes shut and shakes his head again.

Vector lets out a breath in thought. "Hey…let me tell you something. Do you know what this room is for?"

The boy looks around at the walls and the ceiling, as if taking note of them for the first time. Then he shakes his head.

"Well, this is the room…where people go…to say the things that they really need to say. I can't even count how many confessions I've heard in here, things people wouldn't have said anywhere else. It's sort of like a…safe room. As long as you're with me, you can say whatever you want. Talk all you like, and I promise I'll listen to every word."

The boy looks up, meeting Vector's eyes for the first time. "R…really?"

Vector's face lights up at hearing the boy's voice. "Really really. Just let it all out, tell me what I can do to help."

The boy takes in a breath as if to begin speaking. But then his eyes begin to move downwards again. Vector frowns in disappointment, but then the boy speaks. "I saw the murderer."

Vector gasps. "What?"

"I said I saw the murderer! It was in an alleyway, and it was dark, and he had a ninja star, and he…he…he used it to…to–"

"Hey, hey, that's alright, you don't have to talk about that part if you don't want to." Vector scrambles to ready a notepad and pencil. "But I need to hear anything else you saw, alright? This murderer, what did he look like?"

"I-I…I don't know, i-it was dark."

"Could you tell if he was human or non-human? What was he wearing?"

"I…couldn't tell, I only saw him from behind. He…was wearing a big coat, a-and…and a hat. Like yours. But it was–"

"Did you hear him say anything? Something that might've been a motive?"

"N-no, I didn't hear, but–"

"Was he with anyone? Did he come out of a vehicle? Did he know you were there?"

"No, no, no, but I–"

"How tall was he? How did he—"

"You said I could talk as much as I want! You said, you said, you said!"

Vector is taken aback by the sudden outburst. But then he relaxes. "You're right. I shouldn't have interrupted you." He waits for the boy to continue. But it seems that he's no longer interested in talking. So Vector starts from the beginning. "So what's your name, kid?"

He slowly looks back up, appearing surprised that Vector is still interested. "Charmy. My name is Charmy."

Vector smiles. "It's nice to meet you, Charmy. I'm real sorry for getting caught up in what I was doing like that. Now please, tell me what you wanted to say. I'll try not to interrupt you anymore."

Charmy clenches his eyes shut as he thinks back. "When I saw what he did…I…I ran away. I ran as far and as fast as I could go. But…once I was out of the city…I realized that…that I shouldn't have done that. I should've stayed to help that man, then he might not've…" He shakes his head.

"Hey, don't go thinking like that, there's nothing you could've done. You did the right thing, getting yourself out of danger. And now you're here, helping us find out who did it. You've done everything right, okay? You have to believe that."

Charmy doesn't seem to believe it. "When I realized that…I saw something no one else saw…I ran right back here."

"So you ran all the way out of the city and back by morning? You must be quite the little sprinter. But then…you got here. And you were too scared to say anything. Charmy, did you see something else? Something that scared you again?"

Charmy's eyes dart towards the blackened side of the tinted window. Then he gives a shaky nod. "Mm-hm."

Vector gives a mild sigh at the setback in communication. "Charmy, whatever it is that you saw, I need to hear it."

Charmy glances around nervously. But he flies up onto the table, and leans in closer to Vector. Vector leans forward to hear Charmy whisper into his ear, "The murderer's in this building."

Vector gasps as his eyes go wide. But, maintaining his calm, he whispers right back, "How do you know?"

"It was his hat. It had a little hole in the side. When I came in this morning, that same hat was hung up by the door. I…I didn't wanna risk talking to anyone, because that hat could've belonged to any one of them. But you're still wearing yours, and it doesn't have a hole, so I knew I could talk to you."

Vector leans back, taking off his own hat and looking it over, perhaps imagining what Charmy saw. "That's some serious evidence. But how could you remember a little detail like that? It was dark, and you were scared for your life."

"I just remember, okay? That's how my brain works, I remember little things like that, as long as I get a good look at them first."

"Okay, okay, I believe you." Vector takes his own glance at the tinted window. "If you were to see this…evidence again, would you be able to identify it?"

"Definitely, one-hundred percent!"

"In that case, I'd like to ask you to follow me, if that's alright. You're going to help me get to the bottom of this." Charmy nods, and Vector stands. "Stay close behind me, and don't say anything, got it?"

"But you said–"

"I know, I know, but this is for your own safety. Okay?"

Charmy unconvincingly answers, "Okay…"

With a wave of his hand, Vector leads Charmy out of the room.

If what the kid was saying was true, then every one of my co-workers was a suspect. These people who all swore the same oath I did to be on this force. Dix, Graff, Stewart, even Rosa. One of them was a murderer.

Rosa greets on the other side, "Great work, Vector, I saw that you got him talking. I knew you were right for this job. So did you find his home?"

Vector eyes her suspiciously as he plans his next move. "Uhh… Yeah. I'll handle it from here. But, uh, there was something I wanted to ask you. It's about your hat."

Rosa appears immediately struck by nerves at the question. "My hat? Well, I…I know it's supposed to be part of the uniform, but…truth be told, I've only ever worn it once or twice. It's hard enough to keep the hair straight without worrying about hat hair, you know? I think it's still in my closet at home. Graff didn't say anything about me not wearing it, did he?"

"No, no, you're fine, I was just curious." Vector edges around her, already waving a hasty farewell while Charmy peeks out over his shoulder. "Gonna go help this kid find his home now, just, uh…don't go anywhere. There's something I'd like to talk to you about before you leave."

"Uhh…yeah, sure. I don't get off until late, anyways." She stops to think for a moment. "Hey, Vector?"

Vector stops.

"Has anyone ever told you that your voice sounds just like the lead singer of that old band, the Chaotix?"

Vector can't help but grin. "All the time."

Charmy pops up behind him. "Chaotix? Wow, what a cool name." Vector turns back and glares at him furiously.

Rosa continues, "They were the Chief's favorite, you know."

Vector tips his hat down as he resumes his walk off. "Yeah. I know."

—–—

"Does that mean she's not the one?"

Vector shakes his head as they walk through the building, slowly, to avoid attracting attention. "Not necessarily. Could be a cover story, she's had all day to build it up. If it was her hat, she's had the time to get rid of it. Now which hat was it?" Vector gestures at the line of hooks by the front door, where various uniform hats are hung up.

Charmy looks across them all in confusion. "I-i-it's not here!" He flies up to one of the unoccupied ones. "It was right here, third from the right. I know it was! So where is it!? Does this mean it was her!?"

"Hey, hey, just keep calm. You could be right, but most likely, all it means is that whoever the hat belongs to got called out. Shifts aren't ending yet, so they're going to be back. But…if we can figure out who's out right now, that'll narrow down our list of suspects considerably."

"Can we figure out who used this hook? Like, check for fingerprints or DNA or something?"

"That'd be a forensics nightmare. This area is communal, everyone in the building uses it." Vector gasps as he realizes something. "But we may have some forensics data available already, I need to talk to Dix in the lab."

"But what if the killer comes back? Shouldn't we stay here to see who it is?"

"Hmm… That's a good point. I don't plan on letting you out of my sight until I know you're safe, but we need an extra pair of eyes. I think I know who can help."

—–—

Espio sits cuffed to the table in an interrogation room, nearly identical to the other one. His eyes are closed, apparently in meditation.

The door to the room opens as Vector questions, "You can still see the front door from there, right?"

Charmy's voice answers, "Yeah!"

"Keep watching, this should only take a minute."

Espio, keeping his eyes closed, greets curtly, "You've already lost your job, associating with me. Are you hoping to go for jail time as well?"

Vector walks right up to him, holding up the key to his cuffs. "It's fine, I still work here for the rest of the day." He forcefully unlocks the cuffs.

Espio remains still. "There's no way that you have the authority to release me."

"No, but I do have the authority to interrogate you, and make you more comfortable while I'm doing it. Now, if some crazy kid just so happened to be holding the door open, and you somehow managed to disappear in front of my eyes, well then, there's nothing I could do about that."

"I'm not running away from this, Vector. That's a guaranteed way to make things worse."

"I'm not asking you to run, I'm asking you to help us catch this killer once and for all. I just need you to keep camouflaged and watch the front door, keep an eye on everyone who goes in or out, watch for a hat with a hole in the side. If you can do that–"
Espio shouts in a sudden fury, "I said no!"

"Espio, if we don't do this–"

"Haven't you already done enough!? You've done nothing but worsen the situation with every decision you've made! Working with you has made me look even more guilty than I ever did before! I won't allow you to ruin my life any further! I won't help you!"

"You can't be mad at Vector for trying to help!" Charmy has suddenly appeared in front of Espio with tears in his eyes, surprising both him and Vector. "He's the only person who can make sure that this murderer doesn't hurt anyone else, don't you care about that at all!?"

Espio narrows his eyes. "It's not my problem. Get out of my face."

"No! As long as you only care about yourself, you're always going to be mad at everyone else, and that isn't fair! You wouldn't want bad things to happen to you, so why would you let bad things happen to other people!? Why do you matter more than they do!? You don't, that's why! You're just…just…a big meanie!"

When Charmy finally stops for breath, Vector, taking his place watching the door, announces, "Espio, you've just met Charmy. He has the testimony that could prove your innocence."

Espio closes his eyes. "The cruelty and injustice in this world knows no bounds. But it always seemed to me…that no one in this world cared anymore. Now…" He opens his eyes with a gentle smile. "…I see that I was wrong. Thank you, Charmy…for reminding me of my manners. I'm sorry that I was so rude to you." He finally stands up, and bows his head down to Charmy. "My name is Espio. And if you'll forgive me, then I shall do whatever I can to assist you."

Charmy beams wide. "Really?"

Vector questions, "You heard what I said about the door and the hat, right?"

Espio nods as he throws his hands together. "Consider it done." With another gentle shift of the air, he disappears.

Charmy exclaims, "Whoa! Where'd he go!?"

Vector looks up to a small security camera in the corner of the room, making a big show of holding his arms up with a bewildered expression on his face, as he explains, "Espio's basically a ninja. Let him do his thing, we have somewhere else to be."

—–—

Wearing a pair of latex gloves on his hands and a visor over his eyes, Dixon holds up a small vial containing what could be a blood sample, examining it under the light.

Vector bursts in through the door with short breath, shouting, "Dix! Dix, are you in here?"

Dixon nearly drops his vial in surprise. "Vector! I heard you were fired, what in the world is going on?" He looks over at Charmy, who once again holds open the door and keeps an eye outside. "And who is that?"

"Not much time to explain, I need to know…" Vector hesitates for a moment. "Actually, first I need to know where your hat is."

"My hat? It's out on the hooks. Why?"

"I'll explain later. So did you find anything?"

Dixon tilts his head in confusion. "Find anything…where?"

"On the ninja star, the one that I—… Wait… Didn't Stewart ever bring you the…?"

"Stewart? No, I haven't seen him since this morning. But he should get here soon if he wants that tour before we close up."

Vector moves his hand up to his chin in contemplation. "But why wouldn't he…?" He takes another look at Dixon's hands, remembering something that Espio said. "The wielder must have accidentally sliced his own hand on one of the opposite edges." Vector begins slowly, "Hey, Dix…would you mind taking off those gloves for me?"

"First my hat, now my gloves? What, do you want me to take off my shirt next?"

"The gloves, Dix. It's important."

"Vector, I need to have gloves on at all times while I'm in here, or else the evidence could be contaminated. In fact, you should— Oh, wait, you always wear gloves."

"This isn't a joke, Dix! Just step outside and—"

Charmy interrupts, "Someone's coming! And he doesn't look very happy…"

The approaching person shoves the partially-ajar door aside, inadvertently knocking Charmy out of his way. Graff stomps in with a look of fury on his face. "Gator!"

Vector's eyes move immediately to the white cloth gloves on Graff's hands. But he says nothing.

Graff continues at a shout, "You've been running around this precinct like a maniac asking people absurd questions, a detainee escaped under your unauthorized watch, and I find you in here goofing off with Montse again!? What is the meaning of all this!?" Behind him, Charmy holds the door all the way open, cowering in the small protected space between it and the wall.

Dixon holds his hands up innocently. "I have nothing to do with this, I swear."

Vector explains, "Captain, just this once, I need you to listen to me. You got the wrong guy, and I'm trying to figure out why."

"You don't have the right to make that call anymore, Gator. And you just gave me reasonable suspicion that you're an accomplice in the illegal escape of our detainee. I've had enough of you. You're under arrest." Graff produces a pair of handcuffs. Charmy cowers even further back.

"No, no, listen to me!" Graff forces Vector's hands behind his back. "You—… It is you, isn't it? You wanted to get rid of me, and you had the means to cover this whole thing up."

"I don't know what you're babbling about, and I don't care. I'm sure you know the way to the interrogation room."

Dixon finally speaks up, "Vector…are you saying what I think you're saying?"

Graff tries to push Vector along, but Vector does his best to hold his ground. "Dix, ask him to take off his gloves! The killer injured himself on the weapon, ask him!"

Dixon looks up to Graff questioningly. Graff shoots him a disapproving look. "I do hope that you want to keep your job, Officer Montse."

Dixon looks down to the ground silently.

Vector breathes out in defeat, "Dix…"

This time, when Graff pushes Vector along, he meets with greater success.

"Vector? What's going on?" On the other side of the door stands Stewart, holding the evidence bag in his gloved hand. "Sorry it took me so long to get this here, but there was an incident out on 30th, and I-I… Umm… Why are you looking at me like that?"

Vector doesn't look at Stewart, but past him, where a hat appears to be suspended in the air. A hat with a small hole in the side. Espio reveals himself for just long enough to give a single nod of confirmation.

"Why'd you do it, Stewart? Why'd you kill the chief?"

Graff groans loudly. "That's enough wild accusations for one day, Gator."

"No, I mean it this time! It's him, I have proof!"

Stewart shouts with surprise, "Proof!?"

Graff agrees, "What proof would that be?"

"His hat! It has a hole in it, just like the killer's!"

"And how would you know what the killer was wearing?"

"I was informed by a witness!"

"There were no identified witnesses to this crime."

"I interviewed him myself just a few minutes ago!"

"And did you write a report about this interview?"

"No, I didn't have—"

"Unverified, off-the-record testimony isn't valid evidence by any measure, Gator. Keep up these crazy accusations, and I'll charge you with disorderly conduct as well." Graff resumes pushing him along.

"No, no, it was him! You have to believe me!"

As Vector is pushed past Stewart, he steps aside, voicing, "You should've just listened to the Captain from the start, Vector. None of this would've happened to you."

Vector growls, taking that as a confirmation. "I'll prove it!" In a last-ditch effort, Vector turns his head around and snaps his long jaws towards Stewart, snagging his teeth onto one of his gloves, and tearing it off. Stewart's hand, revealed underneath, has a row of bandages in a line across each finger. Vector spits out the glove. "Noticed you had some trouble handling the coffee this morning, Stewart. Looks like you got hurt pretty bad. How'd it happen?"

"Oh, th-this?" He begins to visibly sweat. "It was just, a, uh, a cooking accident. Burned on a hot pan is all."

"Oh really? Are you sure it wasn't a cut? From the same tool you're holding? Any closer analysis of Dunham's wound will show that the killer hurt himself in the act, which would cause a wound looking an awful lot like that one."

This gives Graff pause. "Really?"

Stewart begins to step back nervously. "I-I have no idea what you're talking about…"

Vector presses, "If you have that throwing star analyzed, you'll find Stewart's DNA on it."

Dixon, who Stewart has been stepping closer and closer towards, finally speaks, "Unless he cleaned it off. I can see from here, that evidence has been tampered with. The bag was opened and resealed."

Stewart voices surprise, "You can tell!? Uh, I mean…"

Graff questions sternly, "Why have you been tampering with evidence, Deputy?"

Vector presses, "There was no disturbance on 30th, was there?"

Graff agrees, "None that I was made aware of."

Stewart looks from one face to another, unsure of what to say.

Dixon encourages, "Prove us wrong, Stewart. Hand over the evidence and let me analyze it."

Stewart looks down at the evidence bag in his hand. He whispers with a sudden smirk, "Good thing I had a chance to practice." He suddenly tears the bag open, grabs the shuriken, and hurls it straight at Vector.

Vector, held in place with hands cuffed behind his back, can't even raise his arms to protect himself. He flinches at what's to come. But the star stops dead in the air in front of him. Vector opens his eyes with surprise.

With a grunt of pain, Espio's camouflage wears off, revealing that he stopped the weapon with his own wrist.

Graff cries out, "What in the world!?" Stewart sprints right past them. "Somebody stop him!"

As if in answer, a small figure flies past them fast enough to cause a gust of wind to blow in their faces. The blur catches up with Sewart just after he rounds the corner, and he can be heard letting out a scream of pain. Everyone runs to catch up.

In the middle of the precinct, where every last worker can see, Stewart has collapsed onto the ground, and Charmy flies triumphantly above him. With a slurred voice, Stewart demands, "What'd you…do to me!?"

With a proud smile, Charmy answers, "My stinger has a toxin that'll leave you paralyzed for another hour or so."

With cuffs that have been removed from Vector, Graff kneels down over Stewart. "Stewart Butler, I'm placing you under arrest for evidence tampering, assault with a weapon, and suspected murder. You have the right to remain silent."

—–—

Vector stands over Stewart in the interrogation room. "Let's work this backwards. Why'd you tamper with the evidence?"

Stewart, looking down at the table, answers flatly, "You told me what you wanted done with it. So I gave it an extra cleaning to the side that cut me to make sure they wouldn't find anything. I gave it a few practice throws while I had it, too. I wasn't confident enough to use it that way last night, but I didn't have much of a choice this time."

Vector writes it all down. "Why'd you frame Espio?"

"Because he was an easy target. I knew that Captain Graff would take one look and jump to the conclusion I wanted him to see. If there's one thing he hates almost as much as lawbreakers, it's your kind."

"I'm not at liberty to agree or disagree with that. Last question. Why'd you kill Chief Dunham?"

"Because he killed my mother."

This breaks Vector's air of indifference for the first time. "You're wrong. Chief Dunham is a good man."

"That's what everyone else said when I told them what I saw on that night. No one believed the testimony of a six-year-old."

This statement seems to hurt Vector personally. "Then I'm sorry to say that you talked to the wrong people. If I'd been there…I would've listened to you. That's my duty as a detective. But I'll ask you the same question I'd ask anyone. How do you know?"

"He confessed before I killed him. He said that he didn't want to do it, that they made him do it, but I didn't care. He's the one who pulled the trigger."

"Who's 'they'?"

"I didn't ask."

Vector closes his eyes and shakes his head with a long sigh. "It's a shame. You could've made a great detective someday."

"I never cared about being a detective. I just wanted revenge for my mother."

"Do you have anything else to say?"

"No."

Vector turns to leave. But he stops at the door. "I pray your heart someday finds salvation." He continues on his way out.

Vector walks somberly through the building over to his office, where he finds the door already open. Dixon waits inside, examining a packed box of Vector's belongings. He looks up when he sees Vector. "Hey, Vector, I–…" He looks down at the box again. "Graff offered you your job back, so why are you still packing?"

Vector walks past him, and sets his report down on his empty desk. He takes a long look around the room. "I realized a few things today, Dix. Graff was right to fire me. I broke nearly every rule in the book trying to solve this case. I had to. And it's the book that was standing in my way." Seemingly satisfied that he hasn't left anything behind, Vector hefts the box up under his arm. "If I'm going to do the most I can to help people, then I can't let the system stand in my way. I need to be my own boss. Write my own rules. With a team I can trust no matter what."

Dixon looks down in shame. "Vector, I…I'm sorry. I know I let you down, I—"

"I don't blame you, Dix. It was the system. It makes sure that no good deed goes unpunished. Besides, I'm glad you kept your job. If Graff was the only one left to run things around here, I'd be scared for the city."

This causes Dixon to smile. "I'll be sure to keep an eye on him for you."

"That's all I can ask for." Vector uses his free hand to throw a casual salute. "Until next time, Dix."

"Hey, hey, hold on. You don't want to leave without this do you, Detective?" Dixon holds out a nameplate with two halves held together by glue.

Vector takes it and reads it with a smile. "Thanks, pal."

—–—

With his hat hung up on the hooks, this time for good, Vector pushes his way out onto the night-lit streets outside. Espio stands waiting for him there. Vector calls out, "Thanks for waiting up."

Espio gives him a nod. "You said you wanted to talk to me?"

Vector continues down the sidewalk, motioning for Espio to follow him. "Well for starters, I never had the chance to thank you for saving my life."

Espio holds up his bandage-wrapped wrist for both of them to see. "Your life was never really in danger from that throw. A bad scar to the face at worst."

"A blemish on my beautiful complexion? That would've been even worse."

"Well, you saved me from a life in prison. It's the least I could do. I really just wanted my shuriken back, anyways."

"So we'll call it even. But actually…there was something else I wanted to ask you about. It's sort of a…business proposition."

Espio raises an eyebrow. "What sort of proposition?"

"A private detective agency. You and me. We can take the jobs that the police are too wrapped up in policy to manage. With my experience, and your skills, we can help fight the injustice in the world. What do you say?"

Espio stops, and Vector stops with him. "I'm not much of a team player."

"Today, I saw otherwise. Maybe you just needed the right teammate."

Espio takes a long pause. "Vector and Espio, Private Detectives. Maybe…maybe that wouldn't be so bad."

"We may not have exactly the same style, but…there's nothing wrong with a little chaos."

"The Chaotix!" Vector and Espio turn with surprise to see Charmy buzzing up behind them. "We should be the Chaotix!"

Espio raises an eyebrow. "The what?"

Vector smiles. "Sounds perfect to me. But you need to slow down there, kid. No one said we were hiring. Don't you have a home to go back to?"

Charmy shakes his head. "No. I don't have anywhere to go better than this. You gotta let me be on the team, you wouldn't have solved the mystery without me!"

Espio notes, "He has a point. His speed and energy could certainly be an asset."

Vector adds, "He's got some skills that would be pretty useful for tracking, too. But taking him in would be a big step up from just the two of us. Are you sure you're good with that?"

Espio smiles. "We're in this to do good, aren't we? If Charmy wants to do that as well, then who are we to refuse him?"

"Then it's settled. Charmy, welcome to the Chaotix. From now on, we're a team, through thick and thin."

Charmy cheers, "Yeah! We're gonna be the greatest detectives in the world!"

—–—

Present day

"I quit the force to be a Chaotix because I could do more good that way. It was the right decision then, and it's the right decision now."

Espio shakes his head. "You promised that we'd stick together no matter what. That we'd watch each other's backs. Going out there on your own would be a death sentence. As your teammate and as your friend, I can't let you do that."

"You can't stop me, Espio. I'm going."

Espio tenses up. "If you make me do this, Vector…it will be for your own good."

Vector closes his eyes and shakes his head. "You shouldn't have let Charmy see this." He begins to walk away.

Charmy cries, "No! Stop!" But it's too late.

Espio produces a handful of shuriken and throws them in a wide pattern, all aimed for Vector. Vector turns and blows a flurry of big pink gum bubbles from his mouth, each one popping as it absorbs the hit of a shuriken.

"Stop it! Why are you fighting!?"

Vector appears with shocking speed from behind the wall of bubbles he's created, and his fist connects with Espio's chest, sending him flying backwards.

"Espio!" Charmy flies over to help him.

Vector has already resumed his walk off. As Charmy helps Espio to his feet, Vector calls back to them, "Watch each other's backs."

Charmy cries out, "Vector!" Vector stops one last time. "Please…be careful."

Vector looks back with a single nod, before disappearing into the darkness of the night.

As Charmy begins to sob, Espio places a comforting hand over his back.

—–—

Several years ago

On a familiar desk in a newly-rented office, next to Vector's glued-together nameplate, an old-fashioned telephone begins to ring. Vector takes the phone off the hook and puts it up to his ear frantically. "Chaotix Detective Agency we'll take any job that pays my name is Vector how can I help you today?"

The voice in the phone answers, "You're speaking on a secured line to the High Commander of the Guardian Units of Nations. All information discussed henceforward is considered classified and cannot be disclosed for any reason."

Vector scratches at the back of his neck nervously. "What…can I do for you, Commander?"

"You investigated the recent murder of Charles Dunham, correct?"

"Yes, that's right."

"According to your report, Mr. Dunham may have been coerced by an unknown party to commit a prior murder. We've confirmed this to be true."

"I'm…sorry to hear that. I was hoping it wasn't."

"Over the course of several years, he received several messages threatening various members of his family, and, in one case, even the entire city of Windopolis."

"I'm sorry, did I hear that right? Who has the power to threaten an entire city?"

"That's what we're trying to figure out. Whoever it was, Mr. Dunham took the threat quite seriously. His target, Lt. Caroline Butler, was an off-duty agent. We believe that she may have been involved in some similarly illegal dealings."

"You're saying she was being controlled by the same people threatening him? How far back does this go?"

"You're the detective, aren't you? You solved this case, so I know you aren't involved. But who is? What does the evidence tell you?"

Vector thinks long and hard. "What does a police chief have in common with a military officer…? If they had him get rid of her, it's probably because he was more useful than she was, possibly because she wasn't following their orders. That still means she was useful to them at some point, so the question is why. They both have more power than an ordinary citizen, so this unknown party could be seeking control of both police and military. But then, an off-duty Lieutenant is hardly an optimal target for that sort of thing. Unless she was just one member of a much larger military group under their control. Commander, I think it's possible that this organization could originate from within your own ranks."

From the other side of the door, Espio's voice suddenly calls out, "Vector! Someone's here reporting an island that appeared in the middle of the ocean overnight. Think we should investigate?"

Charmy's voice cheers, "Ooh, a mysterious island! I wonder what kinds of flowers are there!"

Vector shouts back, "Gimme a minute, guys!" He turns his attention back to the phone. "So is it possible, Commander? Do you think…?" He trails off as he realizes that the conversation has been cut, and an empty dial tone sounds out from the phone. He takes it away from his ear and stares down at it for a moment. Then, with a satisfied nod, he declares, "I think he likes me. He'll call back. Eventually. Maybe."

—–—

Present day

Wearing a long trenchcoat that matches his fedora, Vector, his identity hidden, walks through the streets of Windopolis, staring down at the pad of paper in his hand, where the name of Dixon Montse is still written from before. "Alright, Dix… I came out here to help people, and you're first on the list. Where did you disappear to? Could it be connected somehow…?"

A police siren suddenly wails. "Hold it right there, hands in the air!"

Vector looks up in shock, realizing that he's somehow already surrounded on all sides by Police Pawns. He raises his fists in a fighting stance. But he stops as he looks up, seeing that the spotlight shining on him comes from a small helicopter which Heavy Gunner pilots gently to the ground, throwing up a wind that blows Vector's coat and forces him to hold on to his hat.

Gunner climbs out of the chopper with a pair of glowing blue energy cuffs in hand. "Vector the Crocodile, I'm placing you under arrest. The Emperor would like to have a word with you."

To be continued…