Sorry that I've been in-active, other stuff has certaintly kept me busy. And now, without further a-do, heres chapter 4 of the epic saga. Review! :)

Chapter 4: An Assassin's Trickery

Flint heard a familiar shout. The grey fox got up from his position on the couch and walked over to the kitchen. An agitated pink echidna was waiting for him, a knowing look on her face. It had been six hours since Flint's encounter with the law.

"What is it? Can't you see I'm watching the new episode of Glee?" Flint joked.

"No time for games..." Rosevell replied sternly, "I looked over the files we stole from the police station..."

"You mean the files I stole from the police station."

"Not the point. Anyway, Eggman's last known location was at the Metal City docks. Doesn't say why though." Rosevell said.

"And Sonic?" Flint asked blankly, fiddling with his M9 pistol. He had a habit of messing around with his toys.

"Get this. Apperently, Sonic was spotted near a gang hideout before he came to the club." Flint's expression filled with surprise. Everyone knew Sonic was outright against gangs.

"Why?"

"Doesn't say..." Rosevell said, reviewing the contents of Sonic's file. "There's nothing in these files to prove that we didn't kill him."

"And what evidence is there that proves that we did kill him?" Flint countered. Rosevell clenched her fist out of frustration.

"None that I know of." In a mix of fury and anger, Flint kicked over a, sending it flying to the other side of the room. He slammed his hands on the marble kitchen table, leaving a crack in the expensive material.

"What the hell are we going to do?" Flint shouted, sending echo's through-out the hideout.

"Well shit," Rosevell said, "Don't bust your cherry yet. We still have to investigate the dock and the warehouse." Flint began to calm down, his breathing had slowed and his heart-rate was slowing down.

"Sorry..." He apoligized, "I'm just really frusterated. I know that our life hasn't really meant anything but bringing death amongst our enemies, but I wish to continue to live untill I'm in a wheel chair with two, mabye three grand-children." Rosevell looked at Flint, understanding what he meant.

"In short..." Flint said, "I don't want to die."

If there was one thing one thing better than money... it was blood money. The dark assassin had learned this the hard way. He slipped a piece of paper from his pouch, overlooking the details entrailed on the note. The target appeared to be of a young age, perhaps twenty-four? The target was an assassin himself. Bangs were held over the striped fox, concealing part of his left eye, leaving a mysterious aura in the black and white photo. It was really quite ironic what the overlord had paid him to do. An assassin hunting down an assassin. The dark killer ran his gloved hands through his quills, hair coming up and falling down smoothly. Ever since his sister had died, he had gone down a dark path. Vandalism had led to theft, which led to armed robbery, and then eventually lead to murder. He had shed the blood of his enemies for a purpose, much more meaningful than money. The black and red assassin stuffed the piece of paper back into his trench coat, and stepped off the subway. The mysterious assassin walked through the channels leading to Metal City, his dagger concealed by his jacket. Out of all people, Shadow knew that this was more than business.

Rosevell drove down the streets of Metal City, following the path the GPS had set for her. The two assassins had split up and headed towards different objectives. The pink female assassin drove towards the Dock, hopefully to find any clues or hints to Eggman's location. A left turn was made and she was on Prince Street. The GPS had notified her that the dock was only one right-hand turn away. Rosevell parked the car sloppily and searched the passenger cabinet for her firearm. Perfect... she thought, a 45. Colt M911, gods most reliable pistol. She slipped the weapon into the inside of her blue track suit and began to walk to the docks. She walked around the corner and was there, a platform, a plathora of storage crates, and a large body of water confirmed that this was the docks. She walked up towards the gate and pushed. Locked. The pink echidna jumped on the gate, digging into the fence gaps with her fingers and toes untill she was up and at the other side. She heard talking. Rosevell crept along a large storage crate and peered around the corner. There were six people, all of which looked appeared to be thugs. A suspicous bulge in thier jackets confirmed that they were armed. Despite this, it was nothing an assassin couldn't handle. Rosevell abandoned her cover and began walking right up to the six thugs, confidence covering her stride. One by one, the heads of the thug group turned and stared. Rosevell was in talking range now.

"You the reciever?" One of the thugs asked, raising a suspicous eye brow. Rosevell knew she had no time to think through the question...

"Yes." She replied, keeping her voice smooth yet authoritive. The thug turned towards one of his thug partners.

"Get the package." The thug said. The other gang member nodded his head and jogged behind a crate. He came back with what looked like a metal suit case. He handed it over to the thug leader and the thug leader passed it on to Rosevell. The pink imposter gripped the case and found the words that would allow her to leave without getting shot.

"I believe our business is concluded..." Rosevell said.

"Yes, it is." The thug said, crossing his arms. No more was said. Rosevell began walking back to the gate with whatever was in the suit case.

The thug leader rubbed his hands together, the thought of all the money he had just made was too much to take in. He felt an odd vibration in his pants pockets. He pulled out his LX Cell Phone and flipped it open. The client was calling him. He pressed the answer button and put the phone to his ear.

"Did the reciever get the package yet?" A suspicous voice said through the static.

"Yes sir..." The thug leader replied, now chewing at a tooth pick he keep in his pocket.

"Did you confirm that this is the right person with our code?" The voice replied. The thug agasped, dropping his toothpick. Shit... he thought. The thug was compelled to tell the truth.

"I forget, sir." He said sheepishly. There was an abrupt silence on the phone. The voice had returned.

"What did the reciever look like?" The voice had said, obviously trying to cover his frusteration.

"The reciever was female," the thug continued, "She was an echidna, with pink fur, a nice rack, and dreadlocks." After five seconds, the thug could hear objects being thrown and tossed around in a fury by the client.

"LOGAN, YOU DUMBASS!" The client shouted, nearly making Logan's ears bleed. "THAT'S THE ASSASSIN!" Logan went wide-eyed, and looked back towards the gate. The pink echinda was nearly at the fenced barrier. Logan dropped the phone and turned towards his gang brothers.

"SHOOT HER!" He screamed, now drawing his side-arm and aiming it at the pink assassin. He pulled the trigger, an explosion of lead was sent the assassin's way. It missed. The assassin was well familair with this sound and began towards the fence in a zig-zag motion. There was no time to think. The other gang members drawed out thier weapons and began to follow suit. Bullets tore up everything in sight but the female assassin. Rosevell had moved in a hasted yet graceful motion. She was now up the gate and began running down the street.

Gunshots were heard as Flint stepped out of the car. He shrugged it off. This was metal city. People were robbing and killing each other every day here. He walked up to the old warehouse, sounds of rap music was obviously muffled inside. The fox took inhaled a deep breath. Fifthteen years in the business and he still got the jitters before he inflitrated an enemy strong hold. He peered through a broken window. On the other side of the glass were about ten gang members, along with furniture, a large TV, and automatic weapons set on the table besides them. Flint knew his limits. He wouldn't stand a chance by himself against ten AK47 totting idiots. The fox assassin held his gun up in the air, and pulled the trigger. God knows where the bullet had gone off too...

The pursued echidna slammed her car door and drove off, back to the streets. She looked at the suitcase sitting on her lap; wondering what its contents were. She took one hand off the steering wheel and ran it along the metal surface, feeling the indent of a symbol that had been crudely etched into the suitcase. It looked like an exotic looking bird. She returned her hands to the steering wheel and continued to drive, dodging cars and other obstructions. Rosevell peered into her rear view mirror. There were flashes of light behind her, followed by a loud banging sound a milli-second afterwards. Those thugs were chasing after her. Four thugs filled each car. One was driving, the rest were firing pistols out the passenger windows. Bullets collided with Rosevell's car, leaving a meer dent on where it had landed. Rosevell knew that they could do nothing to this car, for the re-enforced frame was made out of pure steel and the windows were made of the most reliable bullet proof material. But still; that didn't stop them from pulling Rosevell out and shooting her dead if they caught her.

Rosevell swerved out of the way of an 8-wheeler, and turned sharply into an alleyway, making that dreaded screeching sound of the tires. Rosevell stayed focus, managing to squeeze through the tight passage way and onto the other side. She peered once more into the rear view mirror. Thug cars filled up the alleyway. One of the cars had been stopped by a dumpster, which had flipped the car onto its backside in the tight passage. Yelling was followed by the accident. Rosevell gave a sly smirk as she drove onto Chestnut Road, heading towards the warehouse.

The noise from the neaby gunshot had earned the attention from the criminals within the warehouse. The front of the building was now being investigated by the thugs. Flint was just around the corner of the building, waiting for his oppurtinity. He saw it. All of the thugs backs were turned; the assassin crouched low and speed-walked towards the open door, successfully slipping in undetected. They would be back, Flint thought. And then it will be even tougher to get out. He had a limited amount of time to search the place. It was a small warehouse, shouldn't be difficult. The problem; if they found him, he was more than likely to get uber-fucked. He looked around, keeping the sound of footsteps out front in mind. There were about fifty crates stacked neatly onto large shelves in the back of the warehouse. No doubt that the crates were filled with weapons and drugs. Flint observed more and saw a stair-case, which lead into a single room, most likely an office of some-sort. He could've been looking for a small piece of evidence through fifty-crates, or he could take his chances and pray that something resourceful is in the office. He crept up the stairs, holding his breath every time his shoes hit the metal stairs. No matter how softly his footsteps had landed, it always produced a slight noise. A slight noise was all that was needed to get himself killed. He made it to the wooden door; opening it with caution. Before Flint could open the door, he heard a familiar *click* and froze, stopping his breathing.

"Come out..." A dark voice said on the other side of the door. "Hands in the air." Flint knew he had no other choice. If he were to run away, he might be shot in the back, depending on the voice's reaction time. He could just jump of the metal platform, but its height above the ground proved to be problematic. A wise choice would be to approach this voice and take him out, silently. One man is no problem. Ten men; with automatic weapons, was little to near impossible.

"Come on..." The voice grew impatient, "I ain't got all day." Flint opened the door and approached the voice. Flint's hands were in the air when he went in. His eyes caught a glimpse of his surroundings; a metal desk and a vault was all that laid in small interior office besides the man with the gun. The man's eyes were bloodshot.

"Your not one of my men..." The man said, pistol still aimed sloppily at the assassin. "Who are you?" Hands still in the air, Flint stepped forward, attempting to get closer to the man.

"My name is Chris..." Flint said. This had usually been his fake name, wether he was leading an organization of bad purpose on the wrong trail, or when he was just applying for a subscription for Guns and Testorone magazine. Common had told Flint to always use a fake when facing a stranger. Thats what Flint did to Rosevell the first time they met.

"What do you want?" The man said, obviously on the verge of doing something irrational. "I'm a busy man, I've not gotten all fucking day."

"Wait," Flint said, stepping forward again, closer to the man; the shiny gun. He wasn't close enough just yet...

"I've come here with a message..." Flint lied, hands still in the air.

"What is it?" The man said, his index finger was possed over the trigger. This underlord obviously was holding back, but for what purpose? Flint shifted forward; ever so slightly. The man stood up; fast, and pointed the gun at Flint's face. "Don't you take another fucking step." Flint froze, hands still in the air. The man walked towards him, now close enough so Flint could feel the man's foul breath. Flint saw his chance... and took it.

Flint extended his hand and swiped the pistol, the motion was too fast for the man too see. The table had been tilted.

"Now..." Flint began. The weight of the gun felt good. "Tell me who you are." The man jerked back his head and laughed a sick and twisted laugh.

"Who am I?" Said the cocky man, sarcasim filled his voice. Flint kept his stance; gun in hand, eyes set on a goal.

"I won't ask again..." Flint said, voice cold as ice.

"Sheesh kid..." The man gave in, "I am the infamous Joe Sanchasc Cherrels, or as everyone in this city calls me, The Pope."

"Never heard of him." Flint stated, "Just tell me who killed Sonic." Joe's grin disappeared, now serious.

"I would never hurt the fellow," Joe said, a sinsere tone had spread over the cockiness. Flint didn't believe it.

"Then who would?" Pressed Flint, trying to control his frusteration.

"Was he your friend?" Asked the crime-lord. Flint didn't answer. "If so, I'm sorry. Look, I was in no way involved with the murder of Sonic, okay? Related in no way at all." Flint looked into the eyes of Joe the crime-lord. A shot from this gun would defiantly bring in this punk's goons... Flint thought to himself. The Pope had not known it, but Flint knew when people lied to him... like when Rosevell lied about hiding the remote... when the social workers had lied that his brother's death had been for the best... when Flint lied to himself that everything would be fine... that everything would return back to normal... that the hole in his chest that his brother had left in him would heal with time...

"Are you... crying?" The crime-lord asked, incredibly confused. Screw it...

*BANG*

Hope you enjoyed the chapter. And guess what? No edits in this one lol. I just wanted to get this done so I could get on with the plot. My web of conspiracy is ever expanding lol. Review! Review! Review! Why am I such a review whore? Who knows? REVIEW ANYWAY :)