As it turns out, the entire railway system for this area needs to be removed and changed, as it seems Eggman had a hand in the design and building of over a dozen trains. And this, it seems, leaves me without a job. After all, with an overhaul like this, budget cuts need to be made, and since I've only been on the job a day, I'm the first person they look to get rid of.

Not that it matters to me, since I'd been intending to quit my job anyway, after the first day I'd had.

Stretching out on the bus, I unfold the newspaper I bought at the depot. As expected, the front page is all about the incident yesterday. What I don't expect as I read the article is to see no mention of Espio's role in the whole thing. It seems the press are portraying this as just Eggman hijacking Amy's birthday party, with no other trickery involved.

There's no mention of me either. I read a whole half-page section about how Tails diligently solved the mystery but I'm not mentioned at all, not even as "a train employee". To be honest, I'm relieved. I don't need that kind of stress in my life.

Fifteen minutes later, the bus reaches my stop. I alight and turn as the bus pulls away, revealing the landscape of the centre of Central City. Skyscrapers tower above me, a few neon lights starting to turn on as the sky darkens, the sun long gone behind the imposing buildings. I've never been this deep into the city before.
Luckily, the place I'm looking for is within sight.

The neon lights affixed to the wall above the door read "Cafe Chaotix". Despite its name, it's a bar, not a coffee shop, though I've never been inside before. I've only lived in Station Square for a month or so, and bars aren't exactly my scene.

The door, thankfully, is unlocked, though the sign on the door says "closed". As I enter, the first thing that hits me is how dim the interior is. Metallic chairs and tables line the room, illuminated by overhead neon lights, coloured in blue, red, green, all kinds of colours. All in all, the place looks like a typical snazzy bar.

As the door closes behind me, a shape abruptly flies up in front of me, causing me to yelp and stumble backwards.

The shape turns out to be a bee, wearing a tuxedo jacket. "Sorry, we're not open yet."

I quickly clear my throat. "I'm- um, I'm here to see Espio."

"Do you have an appointment?" asks the bee, floating close to my face.

"Um, no," I say awkwardly, taking a step back.

The bee flies back a bit, lifting his stinger menacingly. "Sorry, anyone who tries to see Detective Espio without an appointment gets a sharp sting somewhere pretty unpleasant."

I stumble back another step, my heart freezing.

A second passes, then the bee's serious look drops and he bursts out laughing. "Hahahaha! Your face! You didn't really believe that, did you?"

"I…" I avert my gaze awkwardly, my entire body heating up from embarrassment. "I have no idea."

"Charmy!" snaps a familiar voice suddenly. "What'd I say about scaring customers away?"
I glance back up to see the large green crocodile coming down the stairs to the left of the room, rather jarringly wearing a leather jacket and his usual gold chain.

"This one's not a customer, boss," says Charmy, still giggling to himself. "They want to see Espio."

"Huh? Why do they want to see-." Vector breaks off as recognition dawns in his face. "Oh, it's you! That quokka from the train yesterday."

Nice to know I made an impact. "That's me. Espio said I could visit him anytime, so I…"

"Oh, sure!" Vector grins at me. "Lemme get you a drink while Charmy go gets him."

A pause.

"Charmy." Vector glares at the bee, who's clearly staring off into space. "CHARMY."

"What?" demands Charmy.

"Whaddya mean "what?"?! Weren't you listening? Go get Espio!"

Charmy huffs. "Fiiiine."

As he takes off upstairs, Vector rushes behind the bar. I sit at one of the tables, clasping my hands together.

"Here, you want some juice?" Vector asks me. "I've no idea what's in it but I'm pretty sure it's fruit."

I quickly shake my head. "Oh, um, no thank you."

"Good choice," says Espio's voice, as the chameleon descends the stairs. "Far too bitter for my tastes. If Vector would just take my advice and add some sugar-."

"But then you lose all the health benefits!" complains Vector.

"Customers do not visit a bar for health benefits, Vector," Espio points out. "They want drinks that taste good, not extend their life."

"Why not both?"

Espio raises an eyebrow. "In that case, you'd need to make a drink that actually tastes good."

For a moment, I'm afraid Vector will explode. "Why, you-!"

"Don't blow your top, Vector," says Espio calmly, holding up his hand. "You're opening in twenty minutes, don't you have work to do?"

Grumbling to himself, Vector disappears into the back room.

Espio sits at the table across from me. I notice now that his left arm is in a sling. "How is your arm?" I ask.

"Rather sore. But no serious damage. The physician I saw recommended a sling for a day or so while it recovers."

"Good." I clear my throat. "I mean, good there's no serious damage."

"Yes." Espio regards me carefully. "And how have you been since yesterday? Did you sleep alright?"

"Yes," I reply, deciding not to mention the nightmares. "Did you see the newspaper this morning?"

Espio nods. "I did."

"Me too. There was nothing in there about you or… your role in the whole thing."

"Indeed," replies Espio softly. "Sonic made it clear to everyone that whatever statement they give, they should leave my name out of it. And I in turn asked that nobody mention you either."

"Really?" I ask in surprise. "How come?"

"I assumed it would be too much for you if the press learned of your heroic actions. It was bad enough with us; I didn't want them bothering you too."

I blink. Am I so easy to read? Not even my own parents have displayed such consideration for my social anxiety. "That… is very nice of you. Thank you."

"Don't mention it." Espio folds his hands together on the table, leaning forward slightly. "Now, is this purely a social call or did you have something you wanted to discuss?"

"Well I…" I pause, wondering how to begin. "I no longer work for the train company. And I think I'd really like to give being a detective a shot. If your offer is still… you know… If it still stands."

"Of course," says Espio warmly, to my relief. "I don't have any cases at the moment but I can certainly-."

Espio breaks off as we hear the door open. We both turn our heads to find a green hawk sauntering in, letting the door close behind him. He lifts his sunglasses up onto his head, flashing us both a grin. "Goooood evening, Chaotix."

I can't help staring with my mouth wide open. I don't know who this hawk is but he appears the epitome of coolness, giving off the vibes of a major star. I get the feeling I've seen him somewhere before, like on television.

Espio, on the other hand, has a disgusted scowl on his face. "We're closed," he says coldly.

"Really?" The hawk takes off his sunglasses completely and jabs them in our direction. "Cuz I see you consorting with a client right now."

"They're not a-." Espio breaks off with a scoff. "Nevermind. What do you want, Jet?"

Jet moves closer to us, though with the glare Espio is shooting his way, I'm surprised he's risking it. "It's not obvious? I have a case for you, o great detective."

Espio waves his hand dismissively. "I'll pass."

"You don't even know what it is yet."

"I don't need to know. I'm not getting involved in any more of your… your…" Espio scoffs again. "…shenanigans."

Jet pulls up a chair and sits backwards on it, grinning from me to the chameleon. "C'mon, it wasn't THAT bad."

"It was that bad," responds Espio, clearly trying his best to ignore the hawk's close proximity.

In the ensuing excruciatingly awkward silence, I cough. "Am I… missing something?"

Espio scows sideways at Jet. "Let's just say the last time Jet gave me a case, it did not end well."

"It really wasn't that bad," says Jet in an aside to me.

"Jet, I'm not interested in whatever case you might have to offer," says Espio firmly. "Besides, I'm very busy."

Jet raises an eyebrow, his gaze sweeping over the empty bar. "Yeah, I can see you're drowning in work." Finally, he turns to me, looking at me for the first time. His slightly irritated look quickly vanishes into a grin. "Well, looks like Espio's not being particularly obliging today. I'm Jet."

"I'm surprised the phrase "particularly obliging" is even in your vocabulary," mutters Espio under his breath.

I quickly clear my throat, hoping Jet didn't hear that. "I'm Nash. What case do you need help with?"

"Someone broke into my zeppelin and stole something from me. I want it back."

"Why not go to the police?" I ask.

"Well…" Jet pulls a face. "Let's just say I can't. So I decided to get the next best people to solve the mystery." He smirks sideways at Espio. "But they were all busy, so I was forced to come here."

Espio shoots the wall a ferocious glare and mutters something else under his breath, something I can't quite hear, though I'm certain I do hear a swear word.

"Alright." Jet rises to his feet and slides the chair back to its original position. "If you can't help me, then-."

"What if I took the case?" I blurt out.

Both Jet and Espio turn to stare at me. "What?"

Well, I can't go back now. "I'm willing to take your case, Mr Jet."

"Firstly, get rid of this "mr" thing," says Jet, waving his hand airily. "It's just Jet. And second, what qualifies YOU to take my case?"

"I'm Espio's detective apprentice," I reply, stretching the truth as thin as a hair. "I may still be new but there's no better experience than learning on the job." Under Jet's and Espio's piercing stares, I shrink in my seat. "...as they say."

"Hmm." Jet thinks for a moment. "Interesting proposal."

Espio glances from Jet to me, before turning fully to address Jet: "Can I have a moment with Nash, please? Alone?"

"Where am I supposed to go?" complains Jet.

"Vector's in the back, go bother him for a few minutes."

Jet sighs. "Fine."

Espio waits until Jet has vanished into the back before turning back to me with a serious look. "Nash, I would highly advise against taking on Jet as your first client. You need something to ease you in, and Jet…" He pauses, clearly trying to find the right words. "Let's just say there's a reason people don't associate with him. And besides, wouldn't it be more in your comfort zone to start slow?"

"I guess so," I reply honestly. "But look at what happened yesterday: we excelled because we were thrown into the deep end. Literally. As terrifying as the idea may be, I think I want to try that again. It might be good for me."

"Or it might destroy your confidence and traumatise you for the rest of your life. Trust me, I know a lot about anxiety and how to manage it."

For some reason, this comment irritates me, and it creeps into my tone without me meaning it to. "So do I. I've lived with it all my life."

"I- I know. I just…" Espio hesitates, clearly realising that what he said wasn't exactly the right thing to say. "Alright. If you really want to take the case, I won't stop you."

"Shall I consider you hired, then?" comes Jet's voice.

Espio whirls on him. "How long have you been eavesdropping?" he demands.

"Me?" deadpans Jet. "Eavesdropping? Don't be ridiculous." He gracefully vaults over the bar and hops up onto the table, crossing his legs as he leans almost uncomfortably close to me. "Anyway, what are your rates?"

"Their rates are the same as mine," Espio responds before I can speak. "We'll be working on this case together."

I shoot him a hopeful look. "Really? Are you sure?"

Espio's eyes are fixed on Jet as he addresses me. "It would be rather cruel of me to abandon you to deal with Jet and his nonsense on your own. Maybe with two of us, we'll solve the mystery sooner."

"Thank you, Espio," I say gratefully. "I feel a lot more confident now."

"Me too," Jet chimes in unexpectedly.

Espio shoots him a scowl. "I'm not doing it for you. If it were up to me, you wouldn't get any detective in town."

But Jet just grins back at him. "Joke's on you; no other detective in town wanted me anyway."

The chameleon falls silent, staring at Jet as if trying to comprehend what he just said.

Feeling a sudden urge to break the silence, I say, "Right! Um, isn't the first step to go check out the scene of the crime?"

"Good call," Jet says. "My zeppelin is moored at the Skydock; it's only a ten minute walk from here. Plenty of time for us to chat."

Outside, I fall into step just behind Espio and Jet, perfectly happy for them to take the lead.

But after less than a minute, Jet falls back to walk beside me, eyeing me with interest. "So you're a quokka, right?"

"Yeah."

"What's your ability?"

"Um…" I frown. "What?"

"Don't all quokkas have a special ability?" says Jet. "You know, something like mind reading or laser vision? Got anything like that?"

"Not that I know of."

"Huh, guess you haven't unlocked it yet." Jet nudges me. "Exciting, huh?"

I shrug awkwardly. "I guess."

In the ensuing silence, I think about what Jet said. The idea of a quokka ability sounds familiar, but if my parents - the only other quokkas I know - have one, I've never seen them use it. I wouldn't even know how to go about unlocking an ability like that. But I have to admit that the prospect of actually having my own superpower IS a little exciting.

"So tell us about the crime," says Espio after another minute or so. "When did it happen?"

Jet trots to catch up with Espio, leaving me walking slightly behind and between them. "Last night. When I woke up this morning, I found the item in question missing from my quarters but with no signs of a break-in."

"Wait, it was taken from your BEDROOM?" I burst out. "While you slept?"

"Yup."

Espio snorts. "How embarrassing for a thief."

"I'm not a thief, I'm a treasure hunter," Jet responds immediately.

"And someone managed to steal your treasure right from under your nose."

Jet shoots him a glare. "You're not helping, ninja."

"How astute of you to notice," says Espio sardonically.

As Jet opens his beak to reply again, I quickly chime in: "You said there's no signs of a break-in?"

Jet shakes his head. "None at all. The windows are all intact and the door was locked all night."

"Is it possible Storm forgot to lock the door again?" Espio asks.

"No. Wave and Storm…" Jet's entire demeanour abruptly changes; he suddenly seems distracted and almost shifty. "Um, they're away at the moment. Visiting family."

Espio raises an eyebrow. "Really?"

"I swear to you, nobody else was inside the zeppelin last night except me," says Jet earnestly.

"And the thief," Espio points out.

"Well, yeah."

"Who stole something from your bedroom while you slept."

Jet crosses his arms in a huff. "Are you gonna keep bringing it up every five minutes?"

I can see the slightest hint of a smirk on Espio's face. "I'm considering it."

Again, I chime in before things get worse: "What did the thief steal?"

"A valuable medallion," replies Jet. "Thousands of years old."

Espio's expression clears. "Ah, that's why you couldn't go to the police."

Jet scowls at him, but I'm completely in the dark. "What do you mean?"

Still looking at Jet with the slightest hint of smugness, Espio addresses me: "Let me tell you something about Jet here. He calls himself a treasure hunter but what that really means is he flies all over the world and steals valuable things from collectors and museums."

"What?" I glance at Jet in surprise. "Why?"

Jet just shrugs carelessly. "Because I want to. It's fun."

"And also illegal," says Espio.

"I've never been caught."

Espio rolls his eyes. "Yet."

Jet playfully jabs him in the arm with his finger. "And you've never turned me in."

"Yet," Espio repeats, more darkly this time.

"So that's why you couldn't go to the police?" I ask Jet. "Because the thing that was stolen from you was stolen in the first place?"

Jet points at me. "You got it. But it's a highly valuable medallion and I want it back."

"I'm sure the person you stole it from does too," mutters Espio, rolling his eyes.

To my surprise, Jet turns on him, his irritation clearly escalating. "Can you not?" he snaps.

Espio deliberately steps back, regarding the hawk with a rather disdainful expression. "Jet, put simply, you want us to track down an item that you stole from someone else and has now been stolen from you. Really, I think you should accept that karma has caused this and just move on."

"You don't understand, it's a really valuable-."

"You keep saying that but it's no more valuable than-."

"No, I mean it's really valuable to ME!" Jet bursts out suddenly.

"Why?" Espio demands, narrowing his eyes.

Under the chameleon's scrutinising stare, Jet shifts his feet and averts his gaze. "It… It's personal. For once, can you just trust me on this?"

Espio continues to stare hard at Jet for a few more seconds, before unexpectedly turning to me. "Nash?"

I blink, my heart skipping a beat at suddenly being put on the spot. "S-Sorry?"

"A detective and a client should be open and honest with each other when it comes to a case," Espio says, shooting Jet the briefest of scowls. "I would turn around right now if I were on my own, but it is your case. Would you like to proceed?"

"I…" Between Espio's piercing stare and Jet's expectant look, my usual practice of picking the socially acceptable answer doesn't seem to apply here. So for once, I decide to be honest, as scary as that is. "I'm happy to continue."

Espio seems rather disappointed in my answer, so I quickly add, "But you don't have to come if you don't feel comfortable. I'm sure I'll be okay on my own."

"No," Espio says after a moment. "I said I would help you and I will." He crosses his arms, again turning back to the hawk. "But Jet, if I sense that anything - and I mean ANYTHING - is off, I will call this off. Do you understand?"

"Off in what way?" asks Jet.

"You have more enemies than most of Station Square put together."

"And?"

Espio pauses, apparently unwilling to answer that question directly. "People don't associate with you for a reason, you know."

"What reason would that be?" asks Jet, staring deliberately at Espio.

The chameleon again pauses, for longer this time. Finally, he averts his gaze and says, "Let's get on with it."