Vector's Memoirs; The Chaotix That Was (Part Four)
VECTOR'S MEMOIRS: THE CHAOTIX THAT WAS (PART FOUR) by Foxy Boy
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The walk to the station went quickly enough, and a flash of my metro card took me easily from the turnstyle to an empty seat. It was no small blessing that Mystic Ruins was in the middle of nowhere; otherwise, I might've been sorry for taking a lunch-hour train. The few dolts in the same car as me were plain and quiet, and kept to themselves, not caring who was along for the ride. Another stroke of good luck; no distraction is wanted when you're still trying to stave off the last gasps of fatigue from an unplanned snooze. No more than a half an hour brought me there, just as I'd predicted. Stepping onto the rickety platform, I could see even from a distance that nothing had changed about Tails' workshop since my eyes had last met it. I'd never been able to grasp the thinking behind a building complete with an airfield propped on a seaside cliff... But then again, I can't say I've known any other 8-year-old techno-grease monkeys. After the annoying set of steps up to his door, I found it unlocked, and pushed it open to find an unsurprising scene. A rogue's gallery of half-finished projects, mostly robots and concept vehicles (It would be stretch to call almost anything in there a "car"), with a few rust-caked abortions thrown in for good measure. The only open space was a narrow path that wound a loop around the interior, much closer to a fox's size than a crocodile's. The whole place smelled so strongly of axle grease, I would've sworn the shit was bottled there... And Jesus almighty, it was filthy. The site of a vacuum cleaner explosion had nothing on this sweatshop. As I walked on tiptoes around the broken parts that littered half the floor, I could see his famous appendages swishing around under the tailpipe of an actual auto, some sort of cherry red '70s-model Chrysler. I cleared my throat loudly to get his attention, and watched him roll out from under the car on a dolly in worse shape than most of his toys. Three oil spots dotted the fur on his face, and if I'd had the nerve, I would've busted out laughing. Looking back, I was probably stupid that day, for getting such a kick out of it: Him, tackling a job meant for guys three times his age. Either way, I wanted to kick myself for not bringing the camera... Imagine the blackmail I could've pulled off, once he was older. He took a moment to run a cloth around his greasy hands, while shuffling a bit like any normal mechanic might. It was an obvious attempt to look mature, and as strange as it sounds, I did feel sort of flattered that he would respect me enough to give a shit. Unfortunately, his big-boy facade was shattered the second he started in with his usual high-pitched voice. "How's it going, Vector?" "Eh, fine," I grunted, still a bit put-off by my surroundings. I'd seen enough of this environment working my way through school. "Looks like you're... Uh, keeping busy with a little restoration project, there. Planning to sell it after it's done?" I despise small talk, especially when it's just an alternative to uncomfortable silence. And, of course, it was my luck again that he didn't seem to pick up on it. "Oh, it's nothing like that," he answered with a smile. "Some millionaire from Central City gave it to Sonic the other night. He wanted to store it here, but after we got it in, he decided he wouldn't have any use for a car, since he can outrun most of them anyway. So I'm gonna use parts from it to build some cool robots, just to have some help around the shop." Inside, I was seething... And most of it had nothing to do with jealousy, either. What he'd just described was a sacrilege to every man in the free world: reducing a classic set of wheels to an organ donor, just so he could raise the bar on laziness with a troop of circuit-based slave labour. I could almost hear my jaw tighten, one of those judgement-based reflexes that had saved more face over the years than I might ever know. So, naturally, I was not the next one to break the silence. "You got here really quick, too," he continued in an almost giddy tone. "Take a seat, if you can find one. I gotta go to the back for a second, to try and find something that can loosen the screws around the engine block." Thirty minutes on a depressing commuter train tends to affect your patience. "Hold on, squirt," I barked, hopping onto an oil drum behind me. "You didn't drag me all the way out here to have me wait on your to-do list. I have a full agenda for today, so whatever this is about, raise it a notch higher in your priorities. Is it okay if I smoke here?" My tirade had left him delightfully ill-prepared for the question. "Uh, there's uh, oil and gas all over the place-" "Meh, don't sweat that," I cut him off, and whipped out the smokes like a cowboy straight out of some old spaghetti western. "Half a lifetime ago, I chain-smoked through six months of employment in a machine shop like this, and never so much as burnt my fingers. Besides, ever watch Mythbusters?" "Uh... Once in a while, I guess." He turned and stiffly lobbed the grease rag toward the car's windshield. He jerked a little in frustration as he watched it hit the side, leaving a long, oily trail as it slid to the floor. I knew it was me that had thrown him off-rhythm, and the fact put me in a good mood; It cut the debt I'd imagined down by a size or two. "I think Big caught you at a bad time," he continued. "You seem kind of angry today." My smile betrayed the change. "No, not really," I replied smoothly, "But thanks for reminding me: What's up with that, anyway? Are you and Sonic such royalty now that you can recruit messengers at your will?" "No," he shot back, his cute little cheeks flushing with cuter anger. "He owed me a favour. I helped him find Froggy last week, so he agreed to stop by your office, and let me stay here today to work on breaking down that car." "Oh, you mean dismantling it. You 'break down' a cardboard box." I was respectful with the first tobacco-licious puff, blowing it high up in the air above me. "So, what's on your lightweight mind today, to make you need my input, or my ears, or whatever the fuck you've gotta be asking me for?" He answered in a drama-king sigh. "Well, a favour. Something I need you to do." I hopped off the oil drum like it had turned into a vat of scalding water. "No dice, kid. I bend over for enough jerks already." I started to head for the door, before his cry of "WAIT!!" somehow got me to stop. "Shit," I whispered, clenching my fists. I knew I had no real reason to turn him down, above a stupid vendetta. My heart wasn't in it, but I slowly turned around, and let him know I was giving him a chance after all. His face lit up, and it made me feel better, for the same reason you might laugh when a puppy licks your face... The purely emasculating "awwwww" factor. "Thanks, Vector. I knew you wouldn't let me down!" Throwing humility to the curb, I nodded proudly as I began the lazy stroll back over to him. Of course I didn't... How could I, knowing what two degrees seperated him from? There was truth to my earlier gripe, about having no time that day to waste. But as I stood there, mulling the connection staring me in the face, I started to think... And doing him a favour began to look more and more like a sound investment. It would only be getting me closer to where I needed to be anyway, and on top of that, it was its own alibi for snooping. A luxury most seasoned gumshoes would kill for... An excuse to shadow your unwitting suspect. How could I resist? Soon, those delicious thoughts faded into the present, as reality fought its way back through my skull. I was about to learn what I'd pretty much already committed to, and Tails, no matter how ahead of his age in brains, was still a kid at heart. And what reminded me was him, standing there without a word, waiting for me to pose the burning question. "Okay," I gave in with a sigh, "Go ahead with it, whatever it is." His reply came as two little feet carried him back towards the car. "Ever since the townspeople threw us that huge party, Rouge has been bugging Sonic and me about how she wasn't invited. I told her it wasn't our fault, that the people had their own ideas about who to thank, but she didn't listen. She said she was gonna take a break from her... Uh, work, and try to have some fun of her own, so I suggested she go on a date, you know, just for one night. She liked the idea, and your name was the first to come up." My disgust was absolute, and probably a little too clear, but at a time like that it didn't strike me as important. "Shit, then all bets are off. If she wants a good time, she can get it somewhere else." He seemed confused as he stared back at me. "You just not like her much?" "Hardly.... But that's not the reason. You basically just told me she rattled off a laundry list of pricks, if my name was the first and not the ONLY one to come out of her mouth. I'm sure if she didn't get a yes, she'd just work her way down until one way or another, she's on her knees. I'll bet she said something like that, too, knowing you wouldn't get it." It blew my mind how unfazed he seemed, once his mouth opened a few moments later. "Please, just this one thing this one time. She wouldn't leave until I agreed to help her, and I needed to get this done today, before Amy comes over tomorrow and starts playing with my new gadgets like she always does." I shot up off of the drum even quicker than before, but this time my feet stayed put. "Whoa, back up. She was here today?" By then, his head was buried in a mass of cables and hoses under the nonexistant hood, but I could hear his muffled voice. "Yeah. In fact, you only missed her by about fifteen minutes. She was gonna take the day off at Emerald Coast, then swing by your place to get your answer. It took forever to convince her you'd be there, just so she wouldn't bother me anymore." As I sat back down, my mind had already shut him and everything else out; fantasies sparked by a pre-dawn rendezvous were welling up, and fast. Ask me straight out, and I would've told you I couldn't stand her, which was the God's honest truth... But after the way she'd made her exit, leaving me sitting there like an idiot with a broomstick in my drawers, it was only natural to wonder just how good my chances might be. However high or low, I'd seen how she flaunted her assets, and the endowment that gave her a great right to. It was easy to conclude that it was worth it, and the gentleman's grin creeping across my face like The Grinch was proof enough. "Well... If it's to get her out of your hair, then I guess I'll live." I slowly rose and sauntered up until I was behind him, watching as he dug randomly through a mess of hoses. "Did she say she wanted us to meet somewhere, or was I supposed to just hope I'd speak to her again before tonight? She did mean tonight, right?" "Y-eah," he groaned as he leaned back upright and started looking over the mess thoughtfully. "She said to expect her at your condo around eight, whether you said yes or not." I couldn't help chuckling. "Damn, she must really want a piece of me." "I guess so." As if by reflex, he reached down, pulled out a fuel injector line and breezed by me with it in his right hand like I wasn't even there. "I have to at least start on this," he added, proceeding to wind between the heaps of junk into a far and hidden corner of the shop. "So I won't take any more of your day up. Hope you two have fun, wherever you end up going." Another immature chuckle stifled itself in my throat. I knew where I wanted to go, but that was not something for his virgin ears. "Don't worry about that," I chided, as I turned to head for the exit. "You just concern yourself with building some tin-skulls that'll do that car justice." I heard a high-pitched, ingratiating cackle, just before the door shut behind me. My grandfather used to have a saying he liked: If one day, it started raining silver dollars, that would be the day he was in jail. The sun was in my eyes as I stepped out, and before it would set that evening, something would have to be done about the case. And here I was, adding another huge constraint to a day already rife with stress and imaginary deadlines. To make matters worse, I'd also missed the chance to find out from Tails where his spiked buddy might be... Assuming he knew at all. It was clear that the Grand Imperial Hedgehog was nowhere around, and hadn't been the whole time. A night out with Rouge, as unpredictable as that was, might bring some welcome answers... She could bitch all she wanted about not being included in their mini Mardi Gras, but I'd come to believe Team Chaotix was the only end of Sonic's second-guns that didn't really cross paths with him. Fuck, the evidence had always been right there; we watched him go out and play hero without us, time and time again, until we finally caught that one lucky break that bound us all together. But Rouge was a step up from us in that regard... With close ties to Knuckles, and even closer ties to Shadow, she could get me where I'd never get to alone. And even on the off chance that it was a false lead, all was not lost. I would still be in the the company of a busty bombshell, who sounded like she was just itching to know me better. That could only lead to good... And a story to tell over the water cooler, come tomorrow morning. If the boys were finally picking up the slack, this would be a good way to humble them, or at least have a satisfying brag with a hearty side of embellish. But as always, happiness was short-lived, and the first concerns to assault my mind were those same two dolts tied to the company name. A successful day of sleuthing wouldn't amount to jack shit, if a failure or two opened the door for loads of bad publicity. Espio had been right about that, and I'd only listened enough to shelve his words somewhere between "remember" and "act". Still, they did deserve some credit, and more than they probably felt was due after a shaky start the day before. They really had little to worry about... Should things turn sour with their assignments, I'd be the one to get blamed, for dropping them unguided into a sea of protocol I wasn't sure they even understood. Espio didn't worry me that much; he knew how to think under pressure, and he'd been around enough to know how the world works, or doesn't work. Charmy was the wild card... The unstoppable force of youth and bravado, bull-headed and accident-prone, with my reputation in tow wherever his wings might carry him. My mind played through at least ten different, horrible scenarios in the short walk back. I stepped onto the rail platform numb with fear; I can't honestly remember if I even showed the conductor my ticket stub, before the cars lurched to a start again. What little of the crowd that noticed me would glance my way every now and then, as if trying to figure out this strange crocodile who seems distracted and sociopathic and smells of oily rags and acetone. Each time I felt their eyes drift onto me, I only chuckled and resumed watching buildings pass through the window. But something about the atmosphere had changed since the trip out; the attention on me didn't feel as... Innocent as before. I knew I was stressed, and I quickly chalked it up to nerves, worries and a screwed-up sleep schedule. Nothing came of it the entire ride, so any normal person would've dismissed all of it and never looked back. Thank God I'm not normal. Years of this sort of thing, and intuition becomes instinct. Get a bad feeling? Examine. Feel you've missed something? Examine. Already checked and checked off everything you can think of? Record, hypothesize and go right back to examining. A good sleuth - that is, someone who's born a sleuth - will quickly learn when this helps, and when it doesn't... But the best in the world know exceptions, more often than not, will keep an experienced man in the habit long after it's outlived its usefulness. This huge mass of streamlined metal and wheels would be seeing me again that night, and it wouldn't be for transport. I hacked at the first breath of smoggy air as the doors slid open, and I was allowed to merge with the controlled chaos of the terminal. The feeling hadn't gone away, or even weakened at all... Someone was eyeing me, and I was damned if I was going to stay in one place any longer than I had to. My eyes darted every direction as I fought my way through the rabble, stupidly expecting to find some malevolent face hiding in plain view. Of course, nothing stood out, even as I broke through the mob of commuters and took to the street. The five minutes lost between the train and my building made me sympathetic to every rape victim that lived past the initial trauma. Nothing is more powerful, indescribeable or unsettling than the fear of being watched... Especially when you're carrying a juicy, damaging secret around like a backpack loaded with bricks. Never mind that my job usually involved being on the other end... It was just too much to try and swallow that day. I popped into the office just as the clock struck 1:30. No scribbled notes, no frantic phone messages, and no sign of Espio or Charmy having been back. It was good for a sigh of relief, as it at least meant their duties hadn't been botched yet. And if it happened later, I was sure to hear about it some way or another. I stayed only long enough to grab some things I'd need for the day; a legal pad and pen, the digital-zoom camera from behind the file cabinet (Precautions, when you live bumping shoulders with crime), and the barely-used tape recorder that spent most of its days in the top drawer of my desk. I had no more than six hours to find Sonic in a city of two million... Assuming my associates didn't demand a meeting before then. As I headed out the door and toward the elevator, I kind of hoped they would; this was meant to be a test, after all, and tests are useless if the instructor can't monitor the scores. Trust would have to do for now, until we could reconvene. The first item of business was the most frustrating: trying to decide where to start. I had no idea of his whereabouts the last forty-eight hours, but at least I could cross "with Tails" off the mental list. My best bet would be to try his usual city hangouts: Twinkle Park, poolside at the Emerald Coast hotel, and every chili-dog stand I could find. Maybe the cross-country track at the high school, if he was still AWOL by then. Why not just hit them in that order, since none were really further than the rest. I must've looked like a doe-eyed tourist, breezing into the amusement park with a camera strap around my neck, eyes wide and scanning the patrons for even a hint of dark blue. What I hated most about the whole affair, was trying to look completely nonchalant as I made my way around families and groups of sightseers. Several times, I passed the stoic, uniformed muscleheads I knew to be park security, with their CB antennas poking like flagpoles from their shirt pockets, and their beady eyes falling on me in near-cartoonish scrutiny. If I couldn't blend in, at least better than I seemed to be so far, I'd be out of there like a shitfaced barfly... On my ass, after sailing through the doorway at the hands of an overzealous guard. By some miracle, I was never approached, but it was slim consolation. Even at the roller coaster, there was no sign of him at all. Cream was there, with her mother; but even from a distance, it was clear I'd only caught them at an innocent family outing. Strike one. I was little more than a green streak between the park and Emerald Coast. It was already past 2:30, and no progress at all. It really hadn't been that long, but I was impatient, mostly because I'd begun to imagine N's hand around my neck squeezing harder for every hour that passed with no headway. I was no longer just rushing to beat the clock, but my own paranoia as well. I reached the sliding doors leading from lobby to pool still moving a mile a minute... But all it took was glancing up toward the lounge chairs, and I froze little more than a foot past the entryway. I was used to seeing her in street clothes - or at least, street-corner clothes - But my eyes were now taking in a two-piece thong bikini, and her form fit like a latex glove in every flawless curve. The only cover above that was a pair of purple sunglasses, which she lifted to reveal a relaxed gaze aimed nowhere but straight towards me. I'd forgotten she'd be there, but I'd also forgotten I'd forgotten. Thankfully, her legs were crossed; otherwise, I'd have had to do laundry when I got home that night. "Ooooh, just who I wanted to see," she cooed with a tantalizing smirk. "Decide you just couldn't leave me here by my lonesome?" A true master of manipulation, something likely picked up in her chosen line of work; but she hadn't counted on my own self-control. The excitement, though still very much there, was all but completely stifled as I made my reply. "No, I just forgot you were here. You know how you look right now, but I don't have the time to bullshit, so I'll just see you on my balcony later." "Oh, so you did get my message." She pushed her back up off of the seatback, and flipped lengthwise until she was on her stomach and knees with legs in the air. "You've gotta have enough time to give me an answer." I grunted, stifling a laugh. "I just did, by not telling you to stay the hell away from my pad. Use the time until tonight to figure out where you want to go, since it was your idea. And before you even think of it, five star restaurants aren't in your future." I turned just slow enough to see a childish pout take over her face. A few paces through the doors, then I stopped and turned back. "One more thing... You don't have to try so hard. If I wasn't out doing my job right now, this camera would be full of you." By then, the doors had slid shut behind me, and her prideful reaction was the last thing I saw before heading out to continue the manhunt. I passed the terminal in a frustrated huff. Finding Sonic would be hard enough, without the distraction of the image Rouge had so eagerly given. My last broad had parted ways with me a while before, and nothing will bring out the horny bull in the average American male like a good dry spell. It was the only reason I'd even agreed to see her, because we sure as hell weren't friends... And now, her skimpy attire was imprinted in my vision like a photo negative: not perfectly sharp, but as clear as anything you could easily recognize. Then it occurred to me: in my haste to beat cheeks out of the office, I'd neglected to check if there was a memory stick in the camera. I took it in my hands as I rounded a corner, the unpleasant feeling of a cold sweat breaking over my entire body. I fumbled with the dock cover for several seconds, finally got it open, and saw there was one inside after all. A deep breath whistled through my lips, and my eyes quickly went back to the street.
And there he was.
I skittered like a frightened cat behind a nearby trashcan, not even worrying about who besides him might've seen me. Fifty feet dead ahead, he was standing next to Amy on the sidewalk, looking completely distracted as she fawned over him. But he wasn't looking at me, and that was all that mattered. Quietly, I pulled the pen and pad from my slacks pocket, and scribbled down the time and location. My cover was too distant to pick up any of their conversation above key words, so the tape recorder would be useless, at least until I was in the position to make an oral copy of this much-needed break. Instead, I set the pen and pad to the side, lifted the camera strap from around my neck and readied it to snap a few shots. I counted five stills I managed to take in four seconds, trying to offest the poor quality of an outdated and cheap piece of technology. My grasp of anything from a quarter-block away would be limited at best, but it wasn't hard to figure out the gist of the encounter. He was getting the same sort of request from her as I'd heard (relayed, naturally) from Rouge, though probably in much more innocent words. It cracked me up to see how easily he turned her down, with no apparent hesitation. He knew what he wanted, or didn't want... Or, he was just gay. Either way, I could see her urchin face turn down in a scowl, until she finally just stomped off, leaving him to laugh at her rejection like someone I could actually admire. She was out of sight in nothing flat, and I'd begun to think he would follow suit, in a different direction. But as I waited it out, so did he, looking around mindlessly and waving at fans that would spot him and gawk happily like little lost puppies. Several minutes of that, and it started to look like I was only watching him fritter away time. Then, a shadow fell overhead, and crept slowly forward. Curiosity got the best of me, and I glanced up to see the same mechanically-inclined squirt I'd left back at Mystic Ruins. I watched him descend slowly until he reached the sidewalk in front of his hero. An exchange started almost instantly, but this one played out alot softer than the last. And it should go without saying, but I wasn't about to dismiss it as a simple absence of Amy's big mouth. The little fox had already proved himself a liar, by not staying put. Every sentence, every syllable was whispered between them, and my camera caught it all. Then, when it looked as if they were about to disperse, I saw a flash of green move from Sonic's hand to Tails' open palm. I almost wet my pants. This changed everything. It was a struggle, waiting until the sidekick flew away seconds later to lower the strap back over my neck. I'd wanted to simply drop everything and run back to the office in glee, but naturally that wasn't happening. My smile had rarely been wider, as I watched him run off away from me and my cover. Satisfied at the juicy new development, and eager to tell N, I started to rise; and promptly felt someone tap on my shoulder. With no suitable warning, I found myself in front of Sheriff Doones. A first-rate officer, twenty years on the force... And grievance of mine for just as many. He was he classic stereotype of the power-hungry beat cop, with middle-age jowls and broad shoulders that swelled at even a hint of pride... And the promotion a while back had only made it easier for him to cross paths with me, as my own personal black cat. "Praying to Saint Oscar, Vector?" I didn't scramble to my feet, as most would've done, but contentedly rose at a snail's pace. If his gravel-voiced remark was meant to cue humble obedience, he was out of luck. " I believe surveillance is part of my job, officer." Those jowls turned such a pretty shade of red. "Don't hand me that bull, small-time", he shot back, cutting right to the quick. "I've been called out to handle your snooping so much, It would be easier on both of us to get you your own permanent ankle monitor. But you can breathe easy; I'm not here to send you on your way." I could see the flashing lights of a squad car behind him, and my heart instantly sank. Whatever the reason for his visit, it was clear I wouldn't be staying there. I heaved a deep sigh and prepared for handcuffs. "Alright, I'm not stupid enough to resist. Lead the way." He seemed puzzled for a few seconds, before a lightbulb went off in his head and he burst out in unnerving guffaws. "As much I'd love to have the pleasure, you'e not in trouble. The same can't be said for your two pals, though." I'm sure he could see every trace of swagger and pride leave me after it clicked in my mind. I was already starting to beat myself up over it, before anything else could be said. The one time I didn't trust my instincts... With my head hanging low, I followed him silently to the car and sunk down into the back seat. Odd as it may sound, I dreaded this more than if I'd been headed to the slammer, like I'd first assumed. It was still a test, but one or both of them had failed - terribly. The siren got us across town in no more than five, just in time to see an ambulance pull out of the driveway to a fire-scorched house. Doones brought the car up to the sidewalk and parked, slowly opened his door and stepped back to take care of mine. It was only after I was out and on my feet that I could fully grasp the disaster before me. I hadn't laid eyes on either house belonging to Charmy and Espio's respective clients, but with the latter seated a few feet away on the curb, It became painfully clear I'd been led to one. The home had been damaged incredibly; what had apparently been a two-story was now essentially a one. It was ironic the front door hadn't been touched, as I soon saw a man and woman, likely husband and wife, emerge from inside. The man held his soot-covered wife tenderly, as she leaned into him with a blank expression of utter shock. Without even needing to think, I started walking toward Espio, until I could see that Charmy was sitting opposite him on the same curb. My jaw was agape, and my mind reeled as it all came hauntingly together. Charmy's eyes were fixed downwards in despair, but not the obvious guilt I would've expected... While Espio's head sat in his hands. He was doing something I'd never even seen him come close to; he was crying. Normally, I prided myself in having the ability to stay cool in most situations... But no amount of calm, thought-out words would break the ice over this horrible moment. And as I stood, speechless and practically numb, I began to wish I was back at East Sadler, where I wouldn't have to probe for the details of my own worst nightmare.
To be continued...