Snively donned his communications helmet and lowered its purple holo-visor down over his eyes. Simultaneously he hit the floor pedal that would open the cruising hover tank's hatch. Keeping the war machine sealed was safer, but the armor's electronics and his recent firings of the main gun had combined to make the interior sweltering. He turned a crank on the side of his command chair, raising himself up until he was seated comfortably halfway out of the hatch.
The cool night air washing over him was a great relief, yet that relief was tainted with his ever present fear. When he fled Robotropolis after Robotnik's defeat he had taken an armored battalion with him, intending to carve out a kingdom somewhere far, far away from Sonic. Yet those who had suffered under the regime he had helped build didn't just want him gone, they wanted revenge.
The freedom fighters had dogged his force all the way from the outskirts of the city in a running battle that had spilled into the surrounding woods and hills. He had lost several tanks and close to a hundred SWATbots, but he refused to surrender. If his army could reach the plains to the east the superior firepower of his minions would be more than adequate to win the fight and he would be safe. All that stood between him and those plains was a few more miles of forest, shrouded in darkness.
He wiped the sweat off his face with a cloth from his jacket pocket, his eyes searching for foes between the myriad trunks of the trees. The thrumming drone emanating from the war machines ahead and behind was reassuring, proof that the strong, armored fist of his battalion was in well-oiled and working order. In their wake marched the surviving SWATbots, their glowing crimson visors reminiscent of foxfire in the gloom. The bots scanned right and left constantly, ever alert. He wondered if perhaps, at last, the enemy had given up and decided to leave him alone.
As if such thoughts were a signal a flash lit up the night and a rocket flew from the shadows ahead of the column. The lead tank vanished in a bloom of orange flame with a boom and a crash, the ammunition it carried detonating a second later in an explosion twice as brilliant. A blistering wave of heat hit Snively like a slap and left him reeling.
"All units, attack, attack! Fire at will!" he screeched, his booted foot fumbling for the panic bar. He triggered it and his chair dropped back down into the tank with bone jarring force, the hatch slamming shut with a clank.
SWATbot lasers tore into the darkness, blue and deadly, flying in all directions. The forest flared scarlet as one of the tanks found targets, the mighty blast from its main gun turning the ground around the bazooka wielding guerillas to glass. Several trees in the radius of the impact ignited and suddenly burning leaves were falling and fluttering everywhere.
A hail of bullets and plasma bolts struck back at the SWATbot formation, the robotic soldiers falling like wheat before a scythe. Several exploded, showering shrapnel and taking out others near them. The rest of the bots scattered, seeking targets of their own or cover behind the adamantine bulk of the armored battalion.
Just as quickly as the engagement began it ended. The column had ground to a halt, the smoldering wreckage of the lead tank blocking the way forward. The only things that moved were the falling leaves, the flames and the heads of the SWATbots as they scanned for enemies. Snively shook with rage.
"Status report," he hissed into the helmet. He didn't want to know how many more troops he had just lost, but he needed to know.
"Twenty-six SWATbot units eliminated, Sir," the robotic voice was emotionless and maddeningly calm. "One Hover Tank eliminated. Remaining force count: fifty-six SWATbot Units, nine Hover Tanks, one Command Tank."
Snively seethed. Over half the force he had commanded upon fleeing from Robotropolis had been destroyed. The freedom fighters had decimated his army, striking like vipers and vanishing like smoke. His only consolation was that it had cost them.
"Resume course," he said, fist clenched. He resisted the urge to hit something. The next war machine in line swung around its destroyed twin and struck it a glancing blow, shrugging the charred husk aside with the shrill scream of metal on metal and a burst of sparks.
Not five minutes had passed when his battered force once again shivered to a halt. He suppressed a scream of rage. "What is it now! Why have we stopped!"
"Voice Override V6RZ, Sir," responded the inflectionless robotic voice. Dread and outright horror flooded Snively. It can't be!
"Source!" he demanded, his voice panicky. "Show me the source!"
A nearby monitor switched from a dull readout to the camera feed of the lead tank. Standing in the glare of its headlights, like a nightmare given life, was Robotnik.