- Chapter 238 -
Waco Wabbit
Author's Note:
Word from WindstarOsprey: For our readers of drinking age, here's a fun game:
*Every time there's a Looney Tunes reference, take a shot.
*Every time there's a SpongeBob reference, take two shots.
*Whenever Akhlut shows up without clothes on, take three shots.
And most importantly, always be sure to have a designated driver. Stay safe, and have a nice day.
Citadel Robotnik, a week before the Crystal Cave incident
Thunderbolt the Chinchilla, Egg Boss of the Soumercan Egg Army Branch and Doctor Ivo "Eggman" Robotnik's "Strongest, Smartest, and Most Loyal Minion" (self-proclaimed) was having a bad day. After being called back to the city mere moments from killing the Freedom Fighters and enduring twenty-four hours of musical torture, she had been suspended from active duty and relegated to lab work and general base sanitation and maintenance (read: chores).
While infuriated that she would not be able to smite her master's enemies with the force of a thousand storm clouds, she was willing to lower herself to perform these tasks if meant proving herself a dutiful, worthwhile subordinate.
However, everyone has a limit and no amount of eagerness to prove herself or ardent loyalty to the "Most Brilliant, Genius, Handsomest Stout Man (not fat, NEVER fat) In All Mobius" would ever change the one thing Thunderbolt hated more than Sonic the Hedgehog…
"DAMMIIIIIIIIIIIIIIT!"
Doing laundry.
For the past three hours, Thunderbolt has been stuck in the men's locker room of the Citadel's recently refurbished Training Room/Gymnasium, washing her fellow Egg Soldiers' sweaty, disgusting gym clothes; a task made several times more difficult and tedious by the washer in the laundry room blowing out because someone (Half-wits! Numbskulls! Nincombots!) forgot to clean out the lint trap, forcing her to do it by hand.
"Lousy, no-good, dirty, rotten, little hedgehog-loving…Rrgh!" she muttered as she scrubbed some particularly stubborn stains out of a particularly soiled athletic support, "How dare she do this to me?! ME?!"
As the rotund rodent tended to her task, Akhlut walked in, having just finished his workout for the day, and noticed her.
"Do I even want to know?" he asked, gaining Thunderbolt's attention (and ire, upon seeing him).
"Oh, it's you," the chinchilla spat. "What do you want, fish-face? Here to gloat?"
"Amongst other things…" Akhlut walked over to his locker, indicated by the various stickers of Viking runes, skulls, and sparkling rainbows stuck to it. "I thought the doctor had you doing lab work?"
"He was... until that miserable, overgrown hunk of fettuccini Mordred ruined EVERYTHING!" Thunderbolt screeched. Akhlut simply ignored her as his locker scanned his palm.
"Biofrequency recognized. Subject EB-01 - Akhlut the Orca," the locker's security feature said as it opened up.
"Does this have anything to do with what happened in the mess hall?" Akhlut asked as he started undressing, adding his sullied garments to Thunderbolt's workload.
"He insulted Master Robotnik's mustache! Nobody insults the Egg-Stache, Akhlut!" Her eye twitched. " Nobodyyyyyyyy… "
"Yes…" Akhlut began, totally deadpan, "let's leave that between you, me, and the string of therapists who won't be able to help you, shall we?"
"I was defending our Glorious Leader's honor!" Thunderbolt defended, "But that little, frizz-headed rat of yours said I was being 'out of line' and had me put on laundry duty! The Mighty Thunderbolt, reduced to a mere scullery maid!" Thunderbolt began sparking angrily. "I swear...one of these days, I'm gonna...!"
"You're gonna what?" Akhlut put a massive hand on Thunderbolt's head, squeezing menacingly. "Think carefully before you speak."
Thunderbolt did her best to stand her ground, but Akhlut's cold, predatory glare, crushing grip, and the waves of psychic power pulsing in the back of her mind ultimately won out.
"That's what I thought." Akhlut dropped Thunderbolt in the washtub with a yelp. She quickly emerged, gasping and panting.
"I got soap in my eyes!" she screeched, wiping at her face.
Akhlut chuckled to himself as he finished undressing and grabbed a towel and a bottle of vanilla-scented body wash.
"You…" Thunderbolt hissed.
The intercom buzzed at that.
"Thunderbolt! " came Robotnik's voice, getting a yelp out of the chinchilla. " Report to Lab-7, immediately! I have a task for you. "
Thunderbolt perked. "A task? For me ?! Yes, Master Robotnik! I'll be right there!"
She leapt out of the tub and raced off, giggling all the while. Akhlut watched, surprised.
"I swear, that woman is insane," he mused before turning to the mound of clean laundry Thunderbolt left behind, grinning evilly…
-X-
Thunderbolt dashed into the lab, saluting.
"Egg Boss Thunderbolt the Chinchilla, reporting for duty, Master!"
Robotnik and Eggatha were in the middle of examining...something under a tarp.
"Ahh, Thunderbolt, excellent timing." Robotnik greeted.
"I apologize for not arriving sooner, sir. There was an...accident during the cleaning duties your niece assigned me," she explained as she grimaced at Eggatha. "So I can't use my Electro-Accelerator at the moment."
"You fell in the tub, didn't you?" Eggatha deadpanned.
"Nobody asked you to chime in, Agatha! " Thunderbolt snapped.
"Never mind that now," Robotnik cut in. "I have an assignment for you."
"R-Right!" Thunderbolt shook her head. "Whatever you need, I'll do it!"
"Very well." Robotnik removed the tarp, revealing what was beneath.
"What the…?" Thunderbolt let out, seeing it was an Egg Pawn riddled with bullet holes.
"An... Egg Pawn, sir?"
"Indeed," Robotnik confirmed. "Specifically, one from one of my scouting parties in the Great Desert. Somebody keeps ambushing them and stealing them for scrap. I need you to extract the bullets and run a scan on them. I have a theory on the culprit, but I need verification."
"Yessir!" Thunderbolt got to work examining the fallen Pawn. As she did, Eggatha leaned over to her uncle.
"Uncle Ivo…" she whispered.
"Yes, my dear?"
"I've been examining the footage from the scouts' video feeds. And I found something...strange."
Eggatha brought up the video feed. The video showed the scouts wandering through the desert. Suddenly, one of the scouts in front was shot in the head and fell.
"There!" Eggatha paused the video. Robotnik's eyes narrowed.
"Zoom in," he ordered.
Eggatha did so. The image quality was terrible, but they could vaguely make out a lone figure in the distance with what appeared to be long, floppy ears.
"I'm finished!" Thunderbolt declared, getting their attention. "Sir, you're not going to believe this, but I found the bullets..."
"I know you found bullets," Robotnik deadpanned. "I want to know what caliber and the gun that fired them."
"I'd say about .45, sir. But that's not the weirdest thing."
Robotnik raised an eyebrow, feeling his suspicions becoming warranted.
"These bullets...smell weird. They smell...burnt, and I'm not sensing any particle signature. It's...just a hunk of metal. What kind of blaster even shoots these?"
"These bullets weren't fired from a blaster," Robotnik explained, realization dawning on him," "They were fired from six-cylinder handgun."
Eggatha spun around to face her uncle, nearly falling out of her chair. "Wait, a handgun ?!"
"Specifically, an M3837 Waco Wilder. Standard issue small arm of the Southern Baronies Militias and one of the most iconic handguns in Northameran history." The doctor pressed some buttons on his mechanical arm, causing it to project a hologram of the weapon. "It's 33 cm. long, with the barrel being 19 cm., and fires .45 caliber bullets."
"What!?" Thunderbolt exclaimed. "Master, while I'd normally never question your judgment, that's insane!"
"The Waco Wilder only has an effective range of 75-100 yards and the shots tend to veer to the side!" Eggatha pointed out. "Not to mention, black powder weapons were rendered obsolete when you introduced blasters and Volkan Cannons to Acorn and the Baronies during the Great War. Nobody uses them anymore!"
"There is one person who still does," Robotnik said, standing up.
"What are you…?" Eggatha began.
Ignoring his niece, Robotnik made a call.
"Grimer, come in."
" Yes, doctor? "
"I've found a lead on our little sniper." he pressed some buttons on his robot arm, "I'm sending you a profile to help you track him down. But exercise caution, he's a wily one."
" Understood, sir! We'll have him by the end of the day. "
"Good, I'll see you shortly." Robotnik hung up, then smiled fondly. "You haven't lost your touch, you buck-toothed bastard."
Great Desert
The Continent of Northamer is divided into two halves. To the east lies the region known as Sylvanstorm, which is further divided into the lush, verdant woodlands of the Kingdom of Acorn to the south, and the perpetually stormy and windswept Gray Plains to the north. To the west, the Great Desert, also known as the Wyldwest; named so for its turbulent history, vast, untamed frontiers, and savage, unforgiving heat. The latter two of which, the 6-S were becoming intimately acquainted with.
"W-W-W-Water…" Coconuts wheezed, falling over.
"H20, please…" Orbot requested.
"Gravy!" Cubot randomly declared in a low, dopey, simpleton voice (though lump or dork would be a more apt description to some).
"How long...have we been out here?" Decoe asked.
"Somewhere between too long and not long enough," Bocoe replied.
"My life is flashing before my eyes!" Grounder lamented.
"What life?" Scratch snarked.
"What are you doing?"
The 6-S snapped to attention and were greeted by the sight of Grimer Wormtongue; mildly annoyed and somewhat sweaty from the heat.
"Uhhhhh…nothing?" the robots replied.
"Dr. Wormtongue, remind me again, what is it we're looking for?" Orbot asked. "I think this heat is messing with my processors."
"Yeah!" Cubot spasmed. "BZZZT My voice chip is BZZZT Glitchin' out! BZZZZT More-a than-a usual!"
"Not again…" Decoe sighed.
"Seriously, when is that gonna be fixed?" Bocoe asked.
"Signs point to never," Coconut deadpanned.
"Enough!" Grimer snapped. "And to answer your question, Orbot, we are searching for whoever is taking out Dr. Robotnik's scouting parties."
"Well, can we take a break, pleeeease?" Scratch pleaded. "We've been searching all day!"
"We've only been out here for two hours," Grimer deadpanned.
"And I feel like I should be deep fried and served with barbecue sauce and mac and cheese!"
Grounder smiled. "Mmmm, cheese."
"I have sand in places I didn't even know I had…" Bocoe lamented.
"You're going to have sand in your head caskets if you continue pissing and moaning like that!" Grimer snapped, "Now all of you, be quiet. I just received a message from Dr. Robotnik. Hopefully, this will help us find our perpetrator so we can..."
They heard a crunching noise at that. "Hmmm…?"
Grimer turned around and found himself looking at a tall, skinny, yellow-furred Mobian rabbit with blue eyes, a triangular black nose, two buck teeth, bushy eyebrows, and a white muzzle with large, scruffy tufts of fur on his cheeks. He was dressed up like a cowboy ripped straight from an old Western, complete with long, brown, leather duster with yellow buttons over a white shirt, a red string tie, a brown cowboy hat, black, fingerless gloves, and black pants with brown cowboy boots. He was casually eating a carrot, leaning against the wall.
"Eh, what's up, doc?" he asked, his voice thick with a Southern accent.
"Oh, hello," Grimer began uncertainly.
"Howdy," the rabbit tipped his hat. "Yer an awful long way from civilization, ain't ya?"
"Yes, well, I'm in the middle of a very important task. I'm searching for someone, you see."
"That so? Who ya lookin' fer?"
"Well…" Grimer dug through his pockets, pulling out a handheld computer and opened a file. "Ahh! Here it is. Beauregard Rabbot, aka 'Buckshot Bunny'. Age: 49. Occupation: Bounty Hunter. Wanted for resisting an officer, assault and battery, trespassing, disturbing the peace, miscellaneous misdemeanors, public nuisance, traffic violations, going through a boulevard stop, jaywalking, triple parking, civil disobedience, unauthorized possession of weaponry, drinking, gambling, debt dodging, jaywalking, and at least fifty counts of destruction of Empire robots."
The rabbit whistled. "Dang! That feller's got some ink on him!"
"Indeed," Grimer nodded. "So, I've been given orders by my superior, Dr. Robotnik, to find this man and bring him in before he wrecks even more of his robots."
"Lemme guess, he shoots 'em up with a gun, like dis?" The rabbit pulled a pistol from a holster on his belt, spinning it on his finger.
"Yes!" Grimer nodded. "A Waco Wilder! That's the model gun he uses!"
"Uh-huh. And I take it he's a crackshot, like this?" The rabbit took aim at a nearby cactus, firing and knocking the small bud from the top of it.
"Yes! One of the best in all of Mobius!"
"The best, eh? Shucks mister, yer gonna give 'im a swelled head," the rabbit replied. "And does he got yeller fur, big ears, and a long, brown coat, like this?" He adjusted the collar of his brown coat, removing his hat to slick back his ears. Grimer was practically hopping up and down at this point.
"Yes! Exactly like that! Have you seen him?"
The rabbit scrunched his face and tapped his chin in deep thought. Then he perked up and shrugged "Sorry, not lately." He tipped his hat. "Luck to ya, doc!"
"I see," Grimer said. "Very well, but if you do, be sure to report him. It's imperative that I-" Something clicked in his brain. "Wait a minute…What kind of moron am I? You're Beauregard Rabbot!"
The rabbit flinched at the accusation before motioning for him to come closer.
"Well Doc, if ya must know,'' he whispered, "between you an' me..." he leaned closer. "YER RIGHT!"
He yanked Grimer's shirt over his head before taking off.
"Uh... what just happened?" Orbot asked.
"We've been duped!" Grimer exclaimed, pulling his shirt down. "That screwball rabbit tricked us! I-"
Grimer's com went off at that, getting a yelp out of the green man before he scrambled to answer it.
"Hello?"
"Grimer!" Robotnik's voice shouted out, "Did you get my message? Have you located Beauregard?"
"Well... I found him," Grimer replied. "Or... well... he found me…"
"And?"
"He uh… he got away, sir."
There was a beat of silence, but Grimer could feel the glare.
"Find him," Robotnik's voice came at last. "Don't let him out of your sight, and for the love of Aurora, don't let him-"
A gunshot destroyed the com at that.
"Yoohoo!" came Beauregard's voice. They turned to see him waving. He was spinning his pistol in one hand, blowing smoke from the barrel as he stopped it.
"There he is!" Scratch yelled. "Let's get him!"
He and Grounder charged after him, the rest of the 6-S (sans Orbot) in hot pursuit.
"Wait, you fools!" Grimer shouted.
"Yeah!" Coconuts yelled. "Bot-pile on the rabbit!"
They all jumped Beauregard at once.
"Uh-oh," Beau let out.
Beauregard immediately bounded into the air, revealing he was standing in front of a large cactus. The 6-S could only gasp in horror, unable to stop before they collided with the cactus and screamed in pain.
"Why does this hurt?!" Decoe demanded.
"We're robots! This shouldn't hurt!" Bocoe cried.
"Guess it's a good thing stupidity ain't contagious," Beau mused before dashing off.
Grimer stood there, eye twitching as the rabbit ran off into the distance. He scowled. He was Dr. Robotnik's Deputy Head of Research & Development, the third smartest man in the Empire, and he had been made an utter fool of! This had become more than a simple search mission now. This was personal.
"Of course you realize," Grimer uttered darkly, "This means war."
"Is he allowed to say that?" Grounder asked.
"Shut up," Scratch said simply.
-X-
Sometime later, the 6-S were looking for Beauregard, all of them armed with shotguns. Cubot was tiptoeing along, a hunting hat on his head.
"Shhh!" he hissed, turning to the side. "Be vewy, vewy quiet. We're hunting wabbits!"
He chuckled to himself, getting strange looks out of the others.
"Who is he talking to?" Orbot questioned.
"The heat must be messing with his optics," Decoe mused.
"Shhh!" Scratch hissed. "Be quiet, you idiots!"
He pointed to the ground, allowing them to see rabbit footprints.
"Oh boy! Wabbit twacks!" Cubot cheered before going after them.
"But...he's wearing boots," Orbot remarked.
"Guys, wook! Wabbit hole!"
They approached, seeing Cubot before a rabbit hole in the ground, complete with a mailbox.
"Where did that mailbox come from?" Orbot asked.
"Oh boy! We got him now!" Scratch cackled.
"Now hold on!" Grimer cut in. "Why would Buckshot Bunny himself be living in a hole?"
They stopped, looking at each other.
"Because...he's a rabbit?" Grounder asked.
Grimer facepalmed. "He's a Mobian, not a Mobini."
"Maybe the rent is dirt cheap?" Coconuts offered, elbowing Bocoe.
"Ha!" the stouter Badnik laughed. "Good one!"
"Oh yeah. Good one little guy. And in this market, I might as well be in a hole."
Coconuts turned to Beauregard, who was leaning on a rock nearby. "Thank you! I'll be here all week!"
Grimer and Orbot just looked at them incredulously. Grimer pinched the bridge of his nose in annoyance.
"Why couldn't the doctor have spared more competent Badniks to catch Beauregard?" Grimer muttered. "I'd be better off with a vacuum cleaner and a toaster."
Scratch perked. "Hey, wait! That's our target!"
"He IS?!" the other Badniks shouted in shock.
"It's true, I'm yer man." Beauregard tipped his hat. "Wouldja like to shoot me now or wait til ya get home?"
"Shoot him now!" Scratch crowed. "Shoot him now!"
"Now you keep outta this, chicken lips!" Beauregard snapped. "They don't have to shoot you now!"
"They do so have to shoot me now!" Scratch declared, turning to Cubot. "Cubot! I demand that you shoot me now!"
Cubot shrugged. Scratch had just enough time to blow a raspberry at Beauregard before getting a blast of buckshot to the face, sending his head flying into Grounder's hands. He looked up, sighing.
"Grounder..."
"Oh! Right."
Grounder handed Scratch's head to his body. He screwed it back on before turning to Beauregard.
"Let's run through that again," the chicken insisted.
Beauregard shrugged. "Alrighty then. Wouldja like ta shoot me now or wait til ya get home?"
"Shoot him now! Shoot him now!"
"You keep outta this, they don't hafta shoot you now."
"Aha!" Scratch snapped his fingers before turning to the side. "Pronoun trouble!"
"Seriously," Orbot began, "who are you talking...?"
"It's not 'they don't have to shoot you now', it's 'they don't have to shoot me now'..." Scratch remarked. Grimer perked.
"Has he finally grown a brain…?" he wondered.
Scratch scowled. "Well I say they do have to shoot me now! So shoot me now!"
Cubot promptly shot his beak clean off at that. Orbot sighed.
"Oh, the curse of being the only member of this bunch of misfits with a functioning processor…" He took aim at Beauregard.
"Hold it, Roly-Poly!" Beauregard ordered.
"My designation is Orbot."
"Yer designation is about ta be convict. You tryin' ta get yerself in trouble wit the law?"
Orbot raised an eyebrow. "What law are you referring to?"
"Yeah!" Coconuts chimed in, "The only law we follow is Dr. Robotnik's! And, in his name, I declare open season on rabbits!"
"That's just it. It ain't rabbit season, it's bot season!"
"Oh no!" Scratch declared, reattaching his beak. "We're not falling for that! It's rabbit season and that's that!"
"Nope," Beau shook his head. "It's bot season.
"Rabbit season!"
"Bot season!"
"Rabbit season!"
"Bot season!"
"Rabbit season!"
After a minute, Beau changed tactics. "Rabbit season!"
"Bot season!" Scratch stupidly declared.
"Rabbit season!"
"I say it's bot season, and I say 'FIRE!'" Scratch heard guns cocking, and turned to see the rest of the 6-S aiming at him. "Not again…"
He was promptly shot down, leaving him lying in pieces, and Beau nowhere to be seen.
"What just happened?" Grimer demanded.
"He… got away?" Coconuts offered.
"You're all validating what everyone thinks of us," Orbot lamented. " Again. "
Grimer had his head in his hand, shaking it in disappointment. "I'm surrounded by defective circuitry…"
"Time for Plan B," Decoe remarked.
-X-
Sometime later, in another part of the desert, Cubot and Coconuts were setting up a piano.
"That no good varmint won't know what hit 'im!" Cubot cackled in a thick Southern accent.
"What are you two doing?" Orbot questioned.
"Puttin' together a pie-anner!" Cubot replied.
"In the middle of the desert?"
"Free piano lessons," Coconuts explained. "When Beau comes along, he'll play the piano. But when he gets to a certain point in the song... BOOM! He'll be playin' a harp!"
"The old 'Those Endearing Young Charms' explosive trap routine?" Orbot demanded incredulously. "You'd have to get up pretty early in the morning to fool someone with that old trick!"
"Shhh!" Cubot hissed. "Here he comes!"
They hid. Beauregard came along, reading a map.
"Dadgummit, where the hell did I park my truck? I knew I should've taken that left turn at Mirage Saloon! Just my…" He looked up, seeing the piano. "Free piano lessons!? Hot damn!"
He quickly dashed over, much to Orbot's shock.
"Oh boy!" Coconuts cheered. "He bought it!"
"How…?" Orbot wondered.
"Let's see now…" Beau remarked as he examined the sheet music. "'Those Endearing Young Charms'...Haw! That's easy!"
He cracked his fingers before beginning to play. He played the song for a bit, but right as he hit the trapped note… he missed.
"Nooo!" Cubot yelled from the side. "That's not it! Try it again!"
Beau played it once more, only to miss again.
"That ain't right either!" Coconuts shouted. "Again!"
Beau played a third time, only to get the same result. Coconuts growled in frustration, storming out and pushing Beau aside.
"No, you stupid rabbit! Like THIS!"
Coconuts played the song a bit faster this time, and - unfortunately - correctly. The piano promptly exploded in his face.
"Ohhh, so that's how it's done," Beau mused. "Thank ye kindly."
Coconuts spat out the piano keys, whirling on Beau. "That's it, rabbit! Dance!"
Coconuts began shooting at Beau, causing him to jump. Right before he landed, Beau pulled out a tape player. A big band song played and as soon as he hit the ground, he started doing a soft shoe dance routine. Coconuts, Cubot, and Orbot stared as he danced.
"He's pretty good," Coconuts remarked.
"Oh yeah," Orbot agreed.
"Big deal," Cubot scoffed.
Eventually, Beau stopped, bowing before gesturing to them. "Take it, boys!"
Cubot and Coconuts exchange confused looks before breaking into the same dance routine, Beau clapping his hands and tapping his foot along. Eventually, they began dancing "off stage" with big grins, unaware that Beauregard was standing where they were headed... next to an open mine shaft. Before they could stop themselves, they plummeted down with a loud crash. Orbot sighed, looking down the mine shaft.
"I trust you know what you did wrong?"
"FINLAAAAAAAAND!" Cubot called up.
Orbot sighed. "Time for Plan C."
-X-
In yet another part of the desert, after about an hour of searching, Beau had finally found his missing truck, which was in need of a quick tire change. "Sunnuva no good, pig-stealin, cow-tippin, horse-kissin rattlesnake…" he muttered angrily. "Finally found my damn truck and the damn thing's got a damn flat! Lousy gophers…"
As Beauregard worked, Grimer and the 6-S watched him from further down the road.
"It would appear our little sabotage was a success!" Grimer declared as he pocketed his blaster. "Now then, is everything ready, Scratch?"
"Almost, Dr. Wormtongue!"
Scratch was putting the finishing touches on a brick wall painting, making an exact replica of the scenery ahead.
"Okay, Grounder, remember the plan," he said. "You get the rabbit to chase you, you go by, I drop it down, and the rabbit knocks himself out."
"Then we tie him up and turn him in!" Grounder declared. "Doctor Robotnik will be so proud of me!"
"He'll be prouder of me!"
Orbot watched, a deadpan look on his face.
"This old routine…" he remarked. "Why don't we paint a convincing tunnel on the side of the mountain while we're at it?"
Cubot produced a sign that read, "Not a bad idea!". Orbot sighed.
"You still don't know what sarcasm is, do you?"
Cubot produced another sign that said "Nope."
" Now what's wrong with him?" Coconuts asked.
"It appears his voice chip has shorted out completely."
"Good, now we can work in peace," Grimer mused. "Grounder!"
Grounder stood at attention, holding up a dress. "So...which of us is gonna wear the disguise?"
Grimer rubbed his eyes. "No one, you idiot. He's married . Try something else."
"Hmmm…" Grounder perked. "Ah! I know!"
He popped a drill-hand in his mouth. He blew with all his might, the other hand expanding before a pumpkin popped out. Grimer's jaw dropped as he tried to make sense of it.
"What?" he exclaimed. "Pumpkin! Pumpkin, what? What? Pumpkin? What?!"
"Just… don't question it," Orbot told him. "You'll drive yourself crazy."
Grimer's eye twitched. "Just… go."
-X-
Meanwhile, Beau had finally finished messing with his truck.
"Whew! Finally, good as new." he said, wiping the sweat from his brow.
"Yoo-hoo!"
Beau turned around, just in time to get a flying pumpkin right to the face.
"Slowpoke! Laggard! Slug!" Grounder taunted. "Bet you can't catch me!"
"They're just doin' that to bug me," Beau said darkly as he wiped the pumpkin guts from his face, " And it worked! "
At that, Grounder took off, with Beau in hot pursuit; eventually leading him to the trap they'd prepared.
"He's right behind me!" Grounder called out to the others, "Get ready to drop the wall!"
Behind a bush, Scratch released the rope... only for the wall to stay suspended.
"What the...!?" the chicken Badnik uttered in disbelief.
"Why isn't it working!?" Grimer asked in shock.
They heard someone's throat clearing and found Beau standing behind them, having caught the rope.
"Stuck?" the rabbit asked smugly, "Here, lemme help ya."
He released the rope. Unable to stop in time, Grounder could only scream as he slammed full force into the dropped wall, his body parts scattering everywhere. Grounder's head rolled over to the 6-S as Beau tipped his hat.
"Anytime I can help like this, just let me know."
He turned to walk off…
"Hold it right there, you loathsome lagomorph!"
…only to turn around and find himself face to face with Grimer pointing a blaster at him, fuming mad.
"Eh...what's up Doc?" Beau asked nervously.
Grimer fired at him, Beau narrowly dodging the shot before taking off.
"GET HIM!" Grimer screamed.
They took off after the rabbit, Grounder's severed head hopping after them.
"You're not getting away, Beauregard Rabbot!" Grimer ranted. "When I catch you, I'm going to blast off your feet and hang them from the mirror on my ship!"
"I'm not sure whether I should find that flattering or offensive!" Beau remarked before dodging another blaster shot.
"You'll find it in your skull!"
"You tell 'im, Dr. Wormtongue!" Grounder declared.
Beau kept running, but was forced to stop when he reached a cliff. He waved his arms to keep from falling over, before looking down to see how high it was. He took a few steps back, rapidly praying before wrapping up with an "Amen."
"End of the road, Rabbot!"
He turned to see Grimer and the 6-S closing in on him.
"Now start walking," Scratch ordered. "The doctor wants to have a long, violent talk with you."
Beau scowled. "Now just a minute, birdbrain. Them's fightin' words!"
"Yeah, them's fightin' words! What're you gonna do about it?"
"You think you're so tough, eh?" Beau made a line in the sand with his foot. "Then prove it! I dare you piles of junk to step across this line!"
"Fine!" Decoe declared.
"Gladly!" Bocoe agreed.
"C'mon Orbot," Coconuts declared. "Let's show this walkin' pair of slippers what we're made of!"
"Oh dear…" Orbot sighed.
Coconuts grabbed Orbot as they all charged. Beau stepped aside as they charged over the line... and right over the edge of the cliff. Cubot had just enough time to produce a sign reading " YIPE! " before they plummeted. Beau tsked as they did.
"Man, Julie sure let himself slip...ol' Jimmy was smarter than those leadheads."
"I'm not so easy to fool!" Grimer declared, getting his attention.
"Right, forgot about you," he commented, "Listen, Doc-"
"SILENCE!" Grimer roared. "My name is Grimer. Wormtongue!"
"Wait, seriously? Your parents must have hated you."
"QUIET! I am the Deputy Head of Research and Development for the Robotnik Empire, below only Dr. Ivo Robotnik himself! And I will not be humiliated by some braindead, whiskey-swilling, carrot-munching, honky-tonk rabbit and his cliche, cartoon shenanigans!"
"Ya know, if I didn't know any better, and I'm sure I don't, I'd say you're upset about something."
Grimer's eye twitched. His eyes changed, becoming magenta and serpentine as he hissed, his tongue writhing like a snake...or a worm in the dirt. "KIIIIIIIILL!"
"What in tarnation-?!" Beau exclaimed as Grimer aimed his blaster.
"DIE, RABBOT!"
Right as the blaster was about to fire, Beau drew his gun and shot a bullet into the barrel, blocking it up.
"What!?" Grimer shrieked.
"If I were you, Doc, I'd throw that gun away," Beau cautioned before jumping off the cliff. Grimer watched as the blaster overloaded and blew up, leaving him singed and smoking. He breathed heavily, eyes glowing as his skin and muscles twitched as if something was about to break out of his body.
"That mangy, flea-bitten, carrot-chomping-!" he growled in a distorted voice before placing a hand over his face, taking slow, deep breaths to regain his composure. "No, no... must keep my cool. Must. Keep. Cool..."
"Hey Doc!"
Grimer turned to see Beau in his truck, which was full of junk from the traps.
"Thanks fer all the scrap metal! I'll be sure to mention you to the boys down in Sand Blast!"
He floored it and drove off. Grimer's eye twitched once again, before something snapped in his brain. He let out a crazed laugh before getting on all fours, hopping up and down like a rabbit.
"I'm a bunny now!" he screamed. "I'm a bunny now! Rabbits! Guns! Rabbits! Traps! Rabbits, rabbits, RABBITS!"
-X-
Meanwhile, Beau watched Grimer lose it from his rear-view mirror.
"Awww hell… That feller needs to see a shrink, actin' like that . Am I right?"
Beau turned to a second Beau sitting in the passenger seat next to him and another two in the back of the truck with the scrap.
"Mmmhmm!" the second one said.
"Here, here!" said the third one.
"You said it!" said the fourth.
"Yup, that's what I..." Beau's eyes widened, he shook his head rapidly, then turned to where the copies were; only to find them gone. "I really need to fix the AC in this thing." He stopped to fan himself with his hat. "This desert heat's startin' to make me go looney."
-X-
Meanwhile, the 6-S had managed to pull themselves back together and were wandering the desert, tired, exhausted, and beaten.
"I say...this is without a doubt...the worst mission...we've ever had." Orbot panted.
"Indeed," Cubot remarked, now speaking in a nasally, monotone voice. "I didn't even get to use my Illudium Q-36 Explosive Space Modulator."
He held up a stick of dynamite for emphasis. Orbot sighed.
"Cubot… that's a stick of dynamite."
"Will you two shut up?" Scratch snapped. "I'm trying to get ahold of Dr. Wormtongue."
He had a Robocom Phone in hand, but it wasn't responding. "C'mon, pick up…"
The phone died at that. "Doggone it!"
He threw the phone on the floor, stomping on it.
"Oooh, this makes me very angry!" Cubot panted heavily. "Very angry indeed!"
"Well, look on the bright side," Coconuts said.
"Yeah, what bright side?" Grounder demanded.
"Well, we didn't get blown up or shot."
"That's true!" Decoe exclaimed.
"And we don't have to deal with any more screwy rabbits." Bocoe chimed in.
"Well now… I wouldn't say that …"
They froze, turning around nervously to find themselves face to face with several thugs, all armed to the teeth. In the center was their leader, a Mobian rabbit with gray-and-white fur and one blue eye, the other covered with an eyepatch. He was dressed in a navy blue shirt and matching pants with rusty shoulder pads and blue boots, munching on a carrot.
"Ehhhhh, what's up, bots?"
All the 6-S could do was tremble in fear.
"Awww, phooey," Cubot cursed.
Robotropolis
Meanwhile, back in Citadel Robotnik, Robotnik was trying to get hold of Grimer.
"Grimer! Grimer, come in! Have you apprehended Beauregard?" No response. "Damn it, Grimer! Pick up!"
" HELLO, JULIAN! " Grimer screamed suddenly, startling the doctor.
"It's about time!" Robotnik snapped. "Now, you better have some good news. Is Beauregard in custody, or not?"
" Oh yeah! Oh yeah! I gots da rabbit! I gots da the rabbit riiiiiiight here! " He held up a Mobini scorpion, laughing hysterically. It clacked its pincers before attacking him, getting a scream. Robotnik just looked at him with a mix of annoyance and pity.
"We've lost him…"
"Uncle, I think he's got heat stroke," Eggatha said. "Or... maybe just a stroke."
Robotnik shook his head.
"No, I've seen this before. Beau's classic trickster shtick. He pulls out the classic Krazy Kartoons (1) antics against people who come after him... and drives them around the bend. I should know…" His eye twitched.
"So...what do we do now?" Eggatha asked.
"Now, we move on to the next part of the plan. Thunderbolt!"
The chinchilla practically materialized in the lab. "Sir!"
"I have a mission for you."
"A mission?!" Thunderbolt giggled happily, hopping around the room and sparking.
"Settle down!" Robotnik snapped. "You're getting static everywhere."
Thunderbolt stopped. "Sorry. So, how will I be enforcing your will, My Master? Shall I be smiting that miserable rabbit once and for all!?"
"No," Robotnik said. " I will be handling Beauregard myself. You will be overseeing the preparations for my latest fundraising venture."
He handed her a data card. Thunderbolt took it reverently, scanning it. Her brow furrowed in concentration as she reviewed its contents.
"I see…" she grinned. "Truly an ingenious plot, Your Excellency!"
"Of course it is," Robotnik said.
"Very well. I shall make preparations to depart immediately!"
"After you finish the laundry."
Thunderbolt sagged. "Yes...Of course, Master...the laundry..."
"That's a good girl."
Eggatha giggled. Thunderbolt turned to glare at her, only to see her whistling innocently, before storming off.
"Miserable, little, frizzle-headed, skirt-wearing, egg-sucking… ooooh, how I hate her! Once I become Master Robotnik's new aide, I'll have her wash all the stinky gym clothes, and see how she likes it!"
She started laughing maniacally before pulling herself together. "But that's for another time. For now, I shall complete my...important duties...and then, I will show all of Mobius that the true Champion of the Empire is I , the Mighty Thunderbol-!"
She entered the locker room to find it was a complete mess, the clothes soaking wet and scattered everywhere. Her eye twitched in anger.
"Ah, there you are!"
She sniffed, picking up the smell of vanilla beans as Akhlut exited the shower.
"Oh dear, this place is an utter mess," the orca said smugly. "Better start cleaning up, shouldn't you?"
Thunderbolt sputtered incoherently, pointing at all soiled garments scattered about.
"Yeeeeah, looks like some of the men got into a bit of a tussle. Heh! Classic locker room shenanigans."
"You did this!" Thunderbolt hissed.
"Me?" Akhlut asked, feigning innocence.
"Don't you 'me' me, Akhlut! You were literally the last one in here after me!"
Akhlut shrugged. "Well, even if it was, not much you can do about it except clean up all over again."
Thunderbolt sparked furiously, bringing up her fists in a fighting stance.
"That's it! I'm taking you down, whale! I'm gonna beat your black-and-white ass black and blue!"
That just got her a punch in the face, knocking her senseless. Thunderbolt laughed goofily, raising a finger.
"Is that the best you can-?" she slurred out before another punch knocked her into the washtub. "AAAAGH! I got soap in my eyes, again!"
"Idiot," Akhlut muttered before walking out, leaving Thunderbolt amidst the messy locker room, flailing in the tub like a drowning rat.
Author's Note:
(1) Mobian Looney Tunes.
So! We had WAY too much fun with this chapter, utterly losing it many times during the writing process. We hope you all enjoy the experience as well as we did.
Voice cast for this chapter:
*Beau Rabbot - Sam Elliott (The Caretaker in Ghost Rider, Wild West in Family Guy, Trusty in the Lady and the Tramp remake)
Please R&R, until next time!
