DISCLAIMER – I do not own any Sonic the Hedgehog characters, settings, etcetera (anything copyrightedly relating to SEGA's works). Fang the Sniper / Nack the Weasel is property of SEGA, although some aspects of this story are my own work. Alterations to the Sonic universe in this story are not to be considered canon. Do not steal (forge in your or another person's name) or sell this story in any manner. I have a good lawyer. You may, however, place this on your website without permission. Please ask permission before using aspects of this story in yours. If sections of it look similar to another, please inform me. I'm no thief myself. Thank you, and enjoy.
Bounty Hunter
By Rusty Dillingham
--Chapter Five – Call of the Hunt--
Money never looked so good.
It had been some time since Fang had really truly appreciated the value money brought about, but this whole deal with stupid old anorexic Sergeant Baker had really given him a brand new look whenever he glanced at a money sign. He smiled as he stood there in the middle of his apartment building, his thumb sifting through twenty of the hundred-plus hundred dollar bills as though it were a deck of cards. Good old ill-healthed Hemorrhoid the Hippo – He really was worth fifteen thousand dollars after all, despite how the bounty hunter had needed to sort of convince everyone else of this.
He frequently sipped at a soda as he repeatedly counted the money, admittedly somewhat anal about making sure Baker hadn't again stiffed him. He could spot counterfeit money right off the bat, as he'd dealt with two-faced crooks who tried to give him the cold shoulder in terms of cash settlement before, so he didn't really need to check for that. It was the amount of cash that usually troubled him when things went okay, if anything. One could never be too careful, regardless. Fang had never been exempt from this personal rule, and never would be, as far as he was concerned. The moment he let his guard down, he would likely end up dead – or worse, broke.
Fourteen thousand, he silently confirmed as he counted off the final bill. Baker certainly was a man of his word when he wanted to be, which was while Fang pulled at the man's tongue with a pair of tongs while threatening to kill his whole family. At least, he'd probably now done so, anyway. Fang pensively scanned the money, considering the consequences of his actions. Then he shook his head. He didn't give half a damn if Baker didn't get his car, or his whole family starved to death. They could use the weight loss anyway.
By now, he'd put all his equipment away and was now placing the cash in a small, foot-tall safe with a punch-pad locking system. He kept most of his dough, along with other random items of differentiating personal value, inside the fairly decent mechanism, as he was much too cautious to ever even think about leaving any such things around where others might get to them, despite how the apartment building was relatively safe from break-ins and theft itself. He'd long ago worked on putting bars on all the windows, and he had numerous other pleasant little safety installments to the point where the building had started to look – and work – like a bank. Most everything inside was safe from harm or larceny.
He trudged across the hall from his storage room where he kept all his weapons and equipment over to one of the many bedrooms in the building – This one housing his computer and such other technical devices. It wasn't long before he'd booted the old archaic hunk of machinery up to get it running, although its age was beginning to show, considering the hideously noisy hum the processor made. Just another of the many things he needed to spend money on. That and a new monitor – The one he was using was beginning to corrode or something, as its screen was always a dim green color.
While he waited for the machine to load up, the bounty hunter reviewed the wanted posters he'd plucked off the wall in Baker's office earlier that evening. Claw the Mole, Sombrero the Gila Monster, Dry Horn the Bison, even a couple of no-name insignificant crooks he'd keep an eye out for while tracking the mole and his gang for the sake of a little extra cash flow. Fang stared long and hard at their faces, already beginning the process of memorizing each and every one of their facial traits and general appearances. Since Claw, being the half-assed, retarded circus reject that only he could ever hope to be, wore a pair of the stupidest glasses Fang had ever seen in his entire life, the mole wouldn't be terribly hard to spot in a crowd when the time came to take him down. The same could be said for the wily little bastard, Sombrero, who supposedly never went anywhere without his white namesake hat and bandana that covered most of his face, but Dry Horn didn't really specialize in wearing mentally incompetent articles of clothing. The bison was threatening to hit five feet tall, though, and he would undoubtedly tower over anyone else like a skyscraper. He'd make for a beautiful case of target practice.
Fang rubbed his furry chin, staring into the hateful, soulless eyes of all of them. Their lovely little mug shots on the wanted posters were all combinations of sketches and eyewitness snapshots, since none of them had ever really been arrested. The bounty hunter sneered – That aspect of theirs wouldn't last long, unless all three of them wanted to go down in a blaze of glory. He'd readily grant their wishes if it came to that.
An extremely annoying beep radiated from the computer. "Welcome to Windoze XD!"
The greeting repeated three more times consecutively. Fang mumbled under his breath. He didn't know how to turn them off, and he likely wouldn't be able to if he knew how anyway, since the machine was so damned old. He grasped the rather unclean-looking mouse and double-clicked the internet icon sitting on the desktop.
"Welcome to the internet!"
Three more times. Fang ground his teeth.
Ten minutes later, he was finally finding the information he needed. Countless independent news agencies constantly kept up-to-date on the possible whereabouts of the most wanted criminals in the land, and he was already sorting through all the television news stations and newspapers he was aware of, trying to discover every possible inch of information about Claw the Mole available. With so much information at his disposal, it was only a matter of time before he had deduced some key spots around the world where the little bastard may have been. Of course he had other sources to go by when it came to finding bounties, but when the simplest thing worked, it worked. Thankfully, most of the locations remained on South Island, so he wouldn't have to worry about crossing any oceans, unless he were extremely unlucky that day.
From here, the nearest possible location was Sand Hill. Since most of the other leads were rather far out of his way, and since Claw enjoyed pulling jobs in Station Square, it was the most obvious place to check first. Besides, Fang had an accomplice working there – Not a friend, only a business associate he occasionally checked in with. He'd actually made a mental note to call up the fellow, and he'd likely end up spending some of his money while he did so. Might as well check in with the guy and his wares now. See if he's updated his stock any.
He keyed in a web address, and within seconds, his eyes scanned the numerous visuals on the website he brought up. Photos of assorted armaments, equipment, and other little essentials for his line of work lay upon the site, with design names and other information lying beneath each picture. Naturally, no prices were listed, since some of the material was entirely outlawed. The associate definitely didn't need an internet service provider coming across that and having the authorities brought in.
Fang examined each of the items on the site and picked out a few he wouldn't mind owning. The radiation sensor stood out in particular; as his old one was busted, and a set of high-magnification binoculars that doubled as a digital camera would definitely be his. Unfortunately, he didn't see very many armaments he had much use for, besides perhaps the so-called "Big Honkin' Boomstick," although he could never afford that, let alone lift it.
He picked up his nearby cellular phone he kept by the computer and dialed in a particular number after hesitating a moment to try and remember what exactly it was. Unfortunately, it was a long-distance number, so he'd have to try and keep the impending conversation short, despite how he knew his associate enjoyed going on for extensive amounts of time if he didn't watch himself. Fang was in sort of a hurry, anyway – Although he was in reality going to set out for Sand Hill the following morning rather than that evening, since it was growing late. Not that the associate needed to know.
The ring tone kept on for a few seconds until a gruff voice answered on the other line. "Hullo?"
"Hey, ugly, it's me." Fang's eyes stayed on the technical specifications for the sensor and binoculars. "Looks to me like you're carryin' some stuff I want."
Immediately the associate knew what the bounty hunter was talking about, as they'd had these sorts of transactions before. "Oh, yeah? You got money?"
"Would I call you broke, you stupid idiot? Of course I have money." Fang frowned.
"Okay, fine." Thor the Gorilla's tone shifted to a sullen mutter. "How much money you got?"
Now the bounty hunter literally glared into the phone's receiver. "None of your goddamn business, how much I got. How much is that radiation sensor, along with those weird binoculars of yours?"
Hesitation broke the seams. "Six thousand."
"Alright," Fang uttered, "and you want that six grand up your ass or down your throat? It sure ain't going into your pocket."
"Hey, come on." Thor's strange voice provided far too much bass on Fang's end for comfort. "I've got to make a living somehow! Just like you."
"The only living you'll be making will be as worm-food if you don't lower that price, because I'll just come down there, kill you, and take that stuff for free." Even in average, everyday-conversation, Fang managed to sound like a bastard, and he knew it. That was only another fault he had no interest in perfecting. "You ought to act like a damn saint to me, since I'm bothering to actually pay."
Thor went silent again for a moment, readily knowing Fang to not be a fellow who lied often, if ever.
"Two thousand each," he eventually offered.
Fang snorted. "I won't give you more than fifteen hundred for the both of them together! Geez, and I thought Rouge the Bat was a lousy crook. You're a terrible salesman."
"WHAT!?" Thor blared, likely scaring whoever happened to be next to him in his home that secretly doubled as his shop. "Fifteen hundred dollars for the radiation sensor AND the binoculars? You crazy haggler! I can't sell them for that cheap – Do you know how much equipment to build either of those things costs!?"
"Well, it'll cost you your life when I come down there and take them tomorrow," Fang said bluntly.
Grumbling, muttering, and other such vulgarities ensued on the other line. Thor the Gorilla was likely standing there in his kitchen or something, spewing and spitting like a camel with a dental problem while steam poured out his tiny ears. Fang sat there in his little, uncomfortable chair, staring back at the computer monitor and the two pieces of equipment he was going to get his hands on whether Thor liked it or not. It took maybe five seconds for the gorilla to finally utter something, with a little trouble, at that. "Two thousand. Please."
Fang sneered, but the black market salesman continued before he could slam the phone down onto the hook. "I've got a wife now, you know that. I'm feedin' for two now."
"I don't care if you've got to feed her, your lover, and your thirteen illegitimate children. You'll get fifteen hundred, no more or less. Don't you start giving me a sob story about all your financial worries because not only do I have enough of my own, but quite frankly, I just don't give a crap about you or your wife or anybody else you might bitch to me about. Alright?"
Thor was no doubt seething steam now. "Fine. Fifteen hundred. But you don't call here no more, y'hear me?"
Fang's sneer grew into a smirk. "Whatever. You'll be calling me up in a month, begging for money."
"You don't call here no more," Thor growled. "You understand? I can't do good business like that. You haggle and haggle, just like all them other crooks and bastards who get this number and ask for the biggest machine gun I got or somethin'. And you know what else? I've been getting a lot of calls from those Bountech guys, askin' who I been dealin with, who been callin' me. How do you think they'd like it if I told 'em I had the oh-so big-ass pleasure of dealing with you?"
"Then somebody will sic some GUN agents on your oh-so-big ass. Might not be me, but I'm sure Bountech wouldn't exactly be happy with you if you told them you've come in contact with me. That company and I aren't exactly on the best of terms. Never have been." Fang shadowed a quiet sigh well. Dealing with Thor had the tendency to grind the nerves around his brain.
"Oh yeah?" Thor challenged. "Maybe I'll do that anyway. Push my luck – See how you enjoy it."
Fang's expression faltered slightly, but only because he was tired of listening to Thor and dealing with him at the same time. "I'll be by your place tomorrow to pick that stuff up. Try and be up early, alright? Last time, I got there about around one in the afternoon and you were still in bed."
"Hey," the gorilla chuckled, "I'm a busy man. Busy men work the nights!"
Fang didn't want to know what that meant. "I'll be there tomorrow. Be ready."
"Sure – So why you need this stuff, anyway?" The gorilla sounded genuinely interested and confused at once.
Still smirking, the bounty hunter only uttered one line before hanging up in case he got into a deeper conversation with Thor than he really wanted. "You ought to know by now. The hunt calls."
The downtown precinct of the Station Square police force was still alive with activity, even so long after the incident involving Baker and Fang. Naturally, Baker was too chicken-assed to tell anyone on his staff about it, but he still managed to think up a vile way to get even with the dirty-scheming bounty hunter who had made a complete fool out of him. Thankfully, the folks he had contacted were had been in the close area at the time of his calls, so he needn't wait long for them. He only sat there in his oversized chair, staring out the window into the alley, and down towards the busy nighttime Station Square traffic.
He puffed at a cigarette as he waited for the arrivals. Baker had stopped smoking five years ago to try and cut back on his weight a bit; obviously it hadn't helped get him rid of an ounce. So, he'd very, very recently decided to take it up again. After all, his nerves could use the help, despite how it was truly only a hindrance on his already poor body. But he didn't care about his body at the moment – He had more important things to worry about right now. Hell, his weight almost didn't matter, since that damn bounty hunter had nearly put a hole in his face.
The little son of a bitch. Baker scowled, terribly desperate to wring the bounty hunter's scrawny neck with his bare hands.
Rocking back a bit, the Sergeant glanced at his watch, growing impatient, but before he could get up and bitch to Bill about their lack of timing, someone knocked on his door.
"Sergeant Baker," Officer Bill's rather upset voice uttered, considering the trouble he'd gotten himself into not long earlier, "someone is here to see you."
"Let him in, Bill." Baker got one last high out of the cigarette, and after flicking it out the still-open window, swiveled around in the chair.
The door swung open, and Bill held it for the arrival. Baker's eyes laid right on the newcomer, quickly realizing it was the second person he'd beckoned for after the incident with the bounty hunter had gone down. He was naturally a little less than intimidated, since the arrival was only perhaps three feet tall, much like others of his kind. Hell, Sonic the Hedgehog himself was only three or so feet tall himself, give or take a few inches. Baker didn't think he'd ever get used to dealing with these annoying little bastards. Not that he'd ever understand them, either, or he'd realize that they likely would never get used to dealing with or understand him, in the same aspect.
Jagged the Hyena leered at him after Bill closed the door.
Baker nodded firmly. "Greetings."
Jagged slurped noisily from the straw of a massive Thirstbuster he held. Baker sat and glared at the guy until he was finished.
"Alright," the hyena muttered in an I wish I weren't here right now tone, "why the hell did you call us down here?"
Baker grimaced. By us, Jagged meant the GUN agency as a whole, although he was the only agent who had showed up. It did help the sergeant stay a little more on his toes than he normally would have, though. "I've got a problem."
"Of course you have a damn problem," the hyena griped irritably, "or else you wouldn't have bothered us. Spit it out already."
"Uh," Baker stammered, suddenly realizing he had good reason to be on edge, especially since the hyena had that electric stun baton of his hanging off his gunbelt, "well, like I said on the phone to, you know, your agency's phone monkeys, I had a run-in with a rather unfriendly sort tonight."
The GUN agent narrowed an eye and cocked his gray-muzzled, black-eared head to one side. "Yeah, what sort of unfriendly sort?"
Only now did Baker consider the potential consequences of what he was doing. "Well, uh, er—"
"What the hell'd this guy do, rape you or something?"
"NO! He, uh—"
"WHAT!?" Jagged groused.
"Um, er—"
The hyena exhaled a long, deep breath. "I'm about to leave."
"Alright, alright." Baker leaned back in the overstuffed chair, trying to present a more noble appearance, one the furry little ass might have known to respect. Obviously it didn't work, as Jagged's already irritable expression didn't flinch in the least. "Have you ever heard of... Nack the Weasel?"
Jagged blinked. "His name is Fang the Sniper, retard."
"RETARD!?" Baker exploded. "You little insignificant, meat-snapping MONGREL! I'm Sergeant Bob Baker of the Station Square Police—"
"And I'm with the government, in this case GUN," the hyena uttered blankly. "If I'm not mistaken, which I never am, the agency has authority over you and your Deputy Barney Fifes. Cut to the chase; I don't got all damn day to stand here and listen to you spit and spew."
Seething, Baker grit his teeth and swallowed hard to calm himself down – something he wasn't terribly good at doing. "Nack the Weasel came into my office and stole from me."
"Oh, for crying out loud" Jagged complained, "he stole from you. Help! Police! You useless loser, have you forgotten you're wearing a BADGE? What the hell did he steal, your wallet? Is that why you called me down here? To get you your damned wallet back?"
"NO!" Baker blasted, growing upset with the bully, "he took a HUNDRED THOUSAND DOLLARS from me! I need you to get it back!"
The agent's face deformed into an ugly, suspecting scowl. "A hundred thousand."
"That's right," the sergeant lied half-assedly. Not that he was the best liar ever, but how would the GUN agent ever know?
Jagged slurped again from his drink, still staring at the blowhard in front of him. "A hundred thousand dollars. This shithole has a hundred thousand dollars?"
"IT HAD A HUNDRED THOUSAND DOLLARS! That little bastard took every CENT!"
The hyena's expression faltered. "You haven't even mentioned how much you're offering to pay ME! The phone monkeys should have told you I'd be expecting at least thirty thousand for this job. You know, to cover expenses."
Baker slammed his hand down onto the table. "THIRTY THOUSAND!? Are you insane!? We don't have thirty thousand!"
"Well, then, I guess your fat ass is out of luck." Jagged shrugged his shoulders, raising his free hand into the air for emphasis. "GUN doesn't work for nickels and dimes, Officer Doughboy."
"B-But," the sergeant stuttered, clueless as to what to do, "we don't have that much anymore! He took it all! He took everything we had!"
The government-staffed hyena stood there a moment, staring the Sergeant down. If Baker hadn't been intimidated when the GUN agent had first entered the office, he was feeling the heat now. Trying to get anything done now was going to be an exercise in immense frustration. But by God, he was a police sergeant; he wouldn't let some Man in Black wannabe get his tie undone. Unfortunately, he was screwed, regardless. Now he had to drop even more cash if the agent got the money back from the weasel-wolf. Hell, the guy was basically doing this for his own gain – Not Baker's. Not that he wanted to even acknowledge that.
"I guess I could take a down payment or something," Jagged eventually uttered, stepping closer to the desk. "As early payment as I can get, anyway. 'Course, I'll be expecting more when I take care of the target."
Baker looked confused – until the hyena suddenly slung a hand out and whipped the Sergeant's wedding ring off his finger in one quick movement. Immediately Baker started to rise from his chair. "WHA—"
But he hushed when Jagged suddenly flung out his stun baton with the same hand and slapped it against Baker's shoulder, stopping the man halfway through his rise. The hyena gave him an intensely distasteful glower. "Shaddup, you worthless excuse for a pig. How dare you raise your tone to a GUN agent? You should be glad I don't shut this whole damn station down since you dragged me out here for almost nothin'."
Jagged clipped the baton back onto his belt. Baker's eye twitched repeatedly, his beard whiskers shivering. "You... dirty little flea condo! I—"
The door swung open noisily, creaks sounding off across the room like the ache of old bones.
"BILL!" the Sergeant screamed, veins pulsating in his throat, "WHAT THE HELL DO YOU WANT!!"
Officer Bill didn't enter. Immediately Baker's face turned a tomato-red hue and he stared at his desk, feeling a wave of embarrassment flow through his body, picking at the reddened flesh where his wedding ring had just been a moment earlier.
Jagged's battle-scarred visage went blank for a moment, then discretely sour as he slowly turned around to stare at whoever had walked in the door now.
Smiley the Kangaroo let a hand rest on his gunbelt, that disturbing smirk of his plastered on his banana-furred face. The eyes under the brim of his hat centered directly back at Jagged the Hyena as the bounty hunter's two miserable lackeys, Shifty and Speedy, both stepped up beside the kangaroo to flank him. Smiley's pleasant smirk grew wider, if anything. "H'lo."
Jagged's head whirled towards Baker as he jerked a thumb towards the newcomers angrily. "Who are these jackasses? Don't tell me you hired these assclowns too."
The sergeant seemed rather reluctant to speak at first. "Yes, I've also hired the three of them to go after Nack the Weasel. I heard their services are relatively decent."
Smiley scoffed. "Decent? You can go out anywhere on the street – Pick someone, anyone and they're decent at what we do. He hired us because we're the best, of the best, of the best, of—"
"Why the HELL did you call me down here then!?" Jagged spat, pointing a long, intruding finger at Baker's ugly face before the Kangaroo boss could finish, although Smiley actually just kept talking.
"I want this little bastard caught, is why! I figured the higher the people on his trail, the higher the chances of him being caught."
That sent the agent closer to the thin black line. "So you don't think I can catch him? Is that it? Oh, you're pissin' me off."
"... of the best, of the best," Smiley finished, smiling pleasantly.
"Of course I think you can catch him!" Baker countered. "I just want to be absolutely sure!"
That wasn't the right thing to say and Baker knew it. Jagged's eyes bulged, making him look like some kind of fly. "You want to be sure? I'm absolutely sure that you're about to get this wedding ring of yours shoved so far up your ass, your mom will complain about you going punk when she sees it sticking out your nose!"
"Now you hold on just a quick minute," Speedy the Kangaroo interrupted, glancing between the agent and their client, "I'm sure the guy is payin' even if you don't catch him. Which you won't."
"I am?" Baker stuttered.
"I won't!?" Jagged screeched.
"Well, hell," the gray-furred kangaroo remarked, a sour look appearing in his eyes as he stared at Baker, "he'd damn well better, bein' as he has the responsibility of being a decent client. Say, out of some crazy act of God or somethin', babyface here catches him first..."
Jagged would have frothed at the mouth if he knew how.
"... We'd walk back into this office empty-handed," Speedy continued, "but for all our hard work, we'd still get somethin'. Right? I mean, we should be getting paid just for standing here in this smelly room of his. Our time is Bountech's time, Officer."
"Sergean—" Baker started to correct.
"He ain't no Officer," Shifty the Kangaroo gassed, "he's a Detective Inspector!"
Slurp went Jagged and his drink. Baker narrowed one eye at the absurdity of it all. "Uh, I'm a—"
Smiley smacked the other bounty hunter upside his bandana-adorned noggin. "Where do you get that? He's a General! He's fat like one."
The Sergeant stared at the lot of them. "It actually says right on my desk—"
"No way," Jagged cut in, "he can't be a General. Generals are only in the Red Cross. Haven't you ever read Beetle Bailey?"
Shifty winced, rubbing his noggin. "I thought that guy was in the Navy."
Baker sat there. "Ahem."
"Beetle Bailey was a firefighter, stupid." Smiley smacked the other kangaroo again. "Don't talk about things you don't know about."
"He could be a sergeant," Speedy guessed.
"A sergeant?" his boss fussed. "That's stupid. You're stupid."
"Your FACE is stupid."
"Your MOM is stupid."
"Your..." Speedy struggled a moment. "Your--... friggin'—damn it! Your ASS is... stupid. FUCK!"
Smiley was incredulous.
"What? This ain't church. I can say it."
"Damn, you're stupid."
Baker sighed.
"Sarge was fat in Beetle Bailey," Shifty commented. "Wasn't he? He ate a lot, too. Do you eat a lot?"
"Of course he eats a lot," Jagged blabbered, "look at him! How does he get his fat ass out of that chair? I'll bet he had to have his wedding at Sea World so he could be with family."
"I like Sea World." Shifty smiled.
"ENOUGH," Baker blared, silencing the entire precinct. "In case you haven't noticed, the Station Square police department has given all of you a job to do. I will see what I can do about money if you somehow can't catch him. And you damn well better, or you're just wasting my damned time, and no one wastes, the, er, time of--"
He had started to toss that last threat on there to try and instill some fear into the four vile cretins, but it backfired big-time. All four of their expressions went completely black -- even Smiley's, but his deadly gaze still managed to include that grin of his. Baker suddenly felt very exposed, as though he were seriously about to get his behind torn apart. "I guess."
Speedy the Kangaroo brushed past Jagged and thrust a finger in Baker's big fat face. "You damn well better get us some cash inflow whether we get him or not, because to be blunt, we'll kill you in front of your own momma if you don't. You don't waste our goddamn time and get away with it, you fuzzball."
Shifty cackled with delight. "Yeah! What he said!"
Smiley slammed his foot down onto Shifty's, causing the other kangaroo to screech like a little girl.
"You can't threaten me," Baker challenged, somehow staring the four of them down. It was difficult, considering all the threats he'd gone through that day, but even he had limits. "I'm a police sergeant. You—"
"I TOLD YOU!" Speedy whirled around and threw his arms into the air.
When he did this he accidentally slapped Jagged's drink out of his hand. The hyena freaked. "YOU SON OF A BITCH. I'LL KILL YOU."
"Hey, stupid, you said he was a Corporal!" Smiley remarked to his underling. "Stupid!"
"YOUR ASS IS STUPID! GODDAMN IT ALL TO HELL!"
Baker slammed his fists down onto the desk for the second time in one minute. "GET OUT! I swear, just, all of you hurry up and leave! You know what you have to do, so get to it before I have you all thrown out!"
Jagged spat onto the floor with no regard to the fact it belonged to a police station and placed a gray-gloved hand on his own gunbelt, letting his thumb barely touch the .45 semiautomatic pistol in the holster for comfort. He gave the Kangaroos a most hideous look. "Alright. You three dumbasses had better just stay outta my way when we're out there in the battlefield against this little guy. I don't need no damn wannabes cramping my style."
Smiley crossed his arms, his poisonous smirk only growing larger as he leered at the hyena. "I suppose we ought to say the same to you, huh? You had better just stay out of our way when we're out there on the battlefield against this guy, something something whatever crap about style. How was that?"
"Not very good," Shifty blurted in reference towards his boss' horrendous imitation of Jagged's bizarre tone of voice.
"Ah, what do you know? You don't know nothin'. So stop actin' like you do."
Baker's ears turned a very red hue. "I think you did not hear me, I said, GET OUT OF MY OFFICE THIS INSTANT."
Jagged's gaze bore into the sergeant's, a meaner look on his face than Baker ever could have hoped to drudge up. "What did I tell you about screaming at me?"
Baker was silent.
"Yeah, that's right, fatass. You'd look pretty ugly with a big ugly scar across that fat mug of yours. Remember to respect your superiors."
That said, Jagged the Hyena turned and stepped past the three bounty hunters, successfully ignoring Smiley when the kangaroo tipped his hat, and in what wasn't short enough time for Baker, he was out the door. Smiley stood there a moment longer, resting his gloved hands behind his head while the other two kangaroos each went to stand at his sides.
"Say, fatso," he uttered to the already flabbergasted Sergeant, "what's our down payment for this job, anyway?"
Baker sat a moment, and just sighed.