Vector's Memoirs; The Chaotix That Was (Part Seven)
VECTOR'S MEMOIRS: THE CHAOTIX THAT WAS (PART SEVEN)
by Foxy Boy
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Early afternoon is no time to be walking in midtown. The sidewalk literally spilled over with workers who, like me, had just said goodbye to the midday meal. There was no escaping the rabble, so long as I continued in the same schedule; one I shared with two-thirds of the city. In many ways, those few minutes easily trumped the level of crowd in the terminal a day prior. And unlucky for all of them, I wasn't keen on being cordial while I squeezed my way through.
The more unfortunate slowpokes felt the impact from my shoulder as I pushed coldly past them. Some stopped long enough to shout random obscenities, but I kept right on going, without so much as a break in stride. Who the hell did she think she'd been dealing with? Did she really expect that I'd never find out?
Before then, I couldn't say I'd ever felt like hitting a woman, for any reason. But she'd crossed the ultimate line: toying with what little affection I have. It didn't matter what she hoped to find out; after I got through with her, she'd never remember it. I wanted so badly to see her no-account face, and have a chance to exact my revenge.
Instead, I found the Sheriff... Or rather, he found me. Only a few blocks from the burger dump, I heard his screeching tires, and immediately let loose with mumbles I doubt could even be repeated here.
He'd come to a stop about a hair's width from the curb, sporting mirrored sunglasses and a grin about as real as Rouge's assets. I could almost feel the cloud of smug billow out of his windows, as he leaned over the empty passenger's seat.
"Damn, it must be my lucky day! I was just thinking how nice it would be to have that paperwork in my hands right about now... Signed and dated, of course." His pleasantry disappeared, replaced by a more suitable scowl. "You'd better still have it, 'cause I know what would happen if one of your flunkies got their hands on it."
Ouch. Not only because he was dead right; I would have to let him know, too. "So do I. It's still on my desk, half-finished. And I'm sorry to say, not by me."
The only time I've ever seen hate so clearly through shades. "Please tell me you're not that stupid. Your name was plastered on every one of those pages. It's legally binding to you. Did you not see that!?"
My eyes had found their way sadly to the pavement, rather than him. I doubt I could've felt any smaller. "I wasn't the first to look over it. Espio beat me to the office this morning, and took it upon himself to right all of yesterday's wrongs. I couldn't stop him in time."
It was obvious he couldn't believe his ears, or didn't want to. "And he's still working for you!?"
I hate sticking up for someone who doesn't deserve it. "Yeah, I don't think I'll fire him just for that. The accident really got to him. He'll level out with time, but he's not doing so well right now."
Only moments, and his asshole-smirk was back with a vengeance. "Boy, let me tell you something you don't seem to get." My hands forgot my brain, and balled up into trembling fists. Thankfully, he didn't notice as he continued. "I don't give a shit how he's doing, or why it made him retarded about that or any other bull. I've got half of city hall breathing down my neck to get this whole situation cleared up and out of the public eye, as fast as possible. You have the family's forgiveness, for God knows what reason, and some high-roller who's gonna bail you out of every dollar they lost. If you screw this up, I'll be coming after you before anybody else."
I was surprised as I was humiliated. "Wait... You're trying to make it look better for me?"
"For you!?", he laughed coldly. "If that isn't wishful thinking... But no. Be glad you know Sonic; he's the ONLY reason I'm working to help this blow over. In fact," he continued impatiently, "Forget you're even a part of it, beyond that simple stack of paper that will have to be redone. Keep Espio away from the tiny amount we involved you in, and start focusing on how you'll repay the department for saving your ass." Stepping off his imaginary soapbox, he put the car back in gear. "I'll be by your office around four, to personally hand you a new copy. Be there."
Jelly-jowled jackass. "Oh, I will. And I appreciate it, sir."
Those eight words were the best acting job of the millenium. He only sneered, then began to pull away, back into the flow of five-mile-an-hour traffic. I watched him roll two blocks, then turn onto a side street; after I was out of his view, I proceeded to shoot him the mother of all birds.
Conversations with him were like listening to a turkey: There was usually a message, if you could get by all the posturing. Terrific... I owed my reputation to someone I meant to harpoon. On a different day, I might've enjoyed the irony... Or, Doones' ignorance. I would have the last laugh, counting my payout while the people's hedgehog wasted away behind federal bars. My case was still a ticking time bomb, set to blow the lid off of everything the public saw in their hero. And after the trouble I'd already braved to get that far, I would enjoy it even more. Might even swing by to rub it in... During visitor hours, of course.
But, Doones was right... Beneath the poison in every word he spewed, the fucking prick had a point. Regardless of how much I liked Espio, or how little of himself showed through his regret, I couldn't just let him follow wherever his trauma was leading. He'd already proved the trip would cause collateral, and more headaches I didn't need or want. It was time I put my foot down, before there was nothing left it could save.
I expected Charmy to be at the office by the time I got back. Not because it was likely, but he didn't really have a choice. With me near the end of my rope, and Espio far from my reach, his absence was horribly timed. No more Mr. Nice Croc; at that point, I felt the only way out would be to crack down. It was my job anyway, as their employer, and it's just simply bad business to let personal feelings get in the way of taking control. If I walked in that door, and he wasn't there, he'd no longer be welcome. I could snatch anyone off the street, and start paying them to let me down; I didn't need him for that. What I needed, was someone who knew what it was to be a detective, and wouldn't leave me hanging at a time like this, sans explanation.
After a glorious walk through urban hell, I finally made it back to my own circle of the inferno, and approached the office door like any other day. But in spite of the pressure holding me by the jugular, I stopped before laying my palm on the handle, and just sort of stared at the smoky glass embossed with our names. Charmy was far from perfect, but he knew the scope of things, and what his presence that day would've meant to us. There was no reason to think that, even in childish fear or whatever else, he would abandon me.
I closed my eyes, heaved a long, deep breath, and twisted open the unlocked door.
Empty. Against all odds and everything I knew about him, I was alone.
To this day, I'm not exactly sure why I lost it. Maybe it was just from walking in to such a disappointment, or when I saw the ruined paperwork still sitting on my desk, scattered and unusable. More than likely, it was when I glanced at the window he'd flown in through near the start of everything, and found it wide open, spotted with bird shit, and scuffed from a fresh heel mark... Showing me he'd stopped by after all. Temporarily.
I felt it before I did anything; a faint spark of fury, slow to gain in intensity, as my eyes started to narrow. Standing there, pummeled by every single thing that had gone so perfectly wrong, it grew and grew... Until at last, it boiled over. With a roar I could only describe as feral, I stomped over to his desk, where his belongings still lay together. A cup full of pens and pencils, a bar engraved with his name, and a case file... The last one, for a petty-crime scene now nothing more than charred rubble. Bending down, I took both sides of the bulky piece of furniture in my hands, and in one strong motion, upended it... Tossing every reminder of him to the floor in a shower of papers and writing tools.
In my eyes, he would not be missed.
I must've stood there for at least five whole minutes, breathing deep and fast as the rage slowly died. Once I'd regained most of my senses, I felt some guilt, but no trace of remorse. The decision was made before my hands even touched the desk; actually doing it was merely symbolism. Team Chaotix, once a small but proud group, now a stooge weaker. In my own ignorance, I'd forged the beginning of the end... In fact, I was looking at it, in the thoughtless way I'd so easily given in. To let him go, and desecrate what little of the suite he claimed, was not me. Money and stress were locked in a duel over my sanity, influenced by an evil I didn't yet know. But the money, though a huge factor at the beginning, wasn't the main force to blame anymore. It sure as hell wasn't the biggest cause of my flipping out.
Despite how low Rouge had sunk, for whatever reason, it was probably Espio who'd done the most damage. I was a mark higher on the Sherriff's shit list, and he still refused to involve me with what I'd assigned him in the first place. His 'honour' was getting old fast, and in the state of mind I'd reached, I had no intention of waiting around any longer. With hardly a thought over the mess in front of me, I turned and headed for his corner of the room, practically diving into his desk's top drawer. It wasn't long before I spotted it; the file for his present case, complete with the client's address. I would find him, tactfully break the news that we were an army of two, and try to forget about ever starting that disaster of an experiment. The only good that had come out of it, was the knowledge I'd gained in the process... What I'd stupidly expected would work from the start, before I could've had any idea how it would really play out. Whether it was my fault, or theirs, or neither, wouldn't change a thing. It was all behind me; once I could coax Espio back into the real world, we might begin to recover, and bounce back to some form of success. That's what I expected, at any rate... But ignorance comes in many forms, and fate wasn't done with me yet.
I would waste no more time; scanning the first few lines of the paper, I memorized the address, and immediately turned to head for the hallway. I didn't get far, before a shrill reminder pierced the air by way of a loud ring.
I glanced over at the phone, then towards the clock. He was a man of his word; had he been five seconds later, he would've missed me.
With a profound sigh, I moped to my own third of the working space, taking a seat as I picked up the receiver. "Team Chaotix, we never... Oh, fuck it. Start talking."
I heard his laugh before anything else. "Unusual way to greet your clients. I sort of like it."
Normally, it would've been a bad time for a joke, but I can't say it wasn't refreshing. "Yeah, I figured as long as I'm making changes, I might as well tweak the service while I'm at it."
"Changes? Well, since you brought it up, do tell."
I laughed, only because yelling wasn't an option. "Damn, where do I start. Charmy's desk is on its top right now, thanks to me, and it's not about to be moved back. He's let me down for the last time; as of ten minutes ago, he doesn't work for me anymore."
He paused, in a way that made it seem he was genuinely shocked. "... Wow. To get the boot before Espio, he must've really fucked up."
For the first time that day, I felt the urge to be honest. "Meh, he did, but it wasn't all him. Today's pretty much sucked in general. I just found out the broad I was with last night planted a bug on me. I still don't know why, but I'm ready to believe it has something to do with Sonic."
He actually growled. "Just what we need right now. I assume you have a reason to make that connection?"
"Hell yes," I smiled, "And I can already tell you want to hear it."
"Eh, in a second." I waited to hear him explain, but soon after, a 'click' sounded over the light static of the lines, followed by the dreaded dial tone.
I started to slowly lower the headset, more surprised than hurt. "He hung up on me..." I mumbled, almost ready to lose it again.
Thankfully, the feeling didn't last. Seconds later, the office door flew open, and his caped form sauntered in like it was all completely natural, hands in his pockets and a grin on his scarred face.
The receiver was still in my hand, and my mouth hung open like your average retard. "H-how in the hell..."
His left hand broke free of his coat, revealing a razor phone. "That look was worth it. Makes me wish this thing had a camera." He quickly re-pocketed the expensive toy. "Now, if you don't mind the unannounced visit, I believe you had some enlightening to do?"
The prank was so totally absurd, I sank back into my chair laughing out loud... Something I'd all but accepted as impossible. It was now alot easier to believe his claim that he could've held down my kind of job. Who else but a natural could've picked up on how badly I'd needed that?
It was almost disappointing, to shift back to being serious. "I'll just say it as plainly as possible," I began frankly, "Since I know you'll recognize the name. My date last night was with Rouge."
He seemed to almost wince at the word. "I'd ask you to tell me you're joking, but I know sincerity when I see it. So... She double-crossed you, and you were surprised?"
I sighed. "Yeah, how stupid does that make me. Anyhow, we were together until some time this morning; damned if I know when, since she was out of there before I woke up. So she's probably heard everything out of my mouth, from my morning belch to about an hour ago. That's when I finally found the thing, and ripped it off of my neck. And before you even ask, yes, I still have it with me."
He watched as my hand went into my slacks pocket, fumbling around inside it for several moments. For each second that passed, I grew more and more worried, until I realized what had happened.
" FUCK , I never put it in my pants in the first place. It must've been in my palm when I tossed the desk."
Our eyes went simultaneously to Charmy's former space. At first, he said nothing, but I could tell he was trying not to laugh.
"Nice job," he joked. "I doubt anyone could toss a desk better."
The first of my reply came as a mumble. "Yeah, it's amazing what you can do when you're thoroughly pissed. But," I said, elevating my tone, "That's another gripe altogether. If I still had the chip, you would see how small it was... No bigger than a crumb. From the G.U.N. corporation, I'm sure. It was a dead ringer for their kind of engineering."
He flashed a dubious smirk. "I know. Sixty percent of their stock belongs to me."
I'm not sure why I didn't have a heart attack right then and there. "You... You own most of G.U.N.?"
He nodded, with a sort of pride. "Only as an investment. Running a business can be boring... No offense to you."
My wits came back faster than I expected. "Eh, none taken. But if you're that rich, does that mean the family across town-"
"-All me." I could almost sense a bit of gloat in his response. "Replacing that stuffy bungalow was chump change, and besides, I couldn't have you in that deep while you're still on the hook with me. There wouldn't be enough of you to go around."
"Tch," I returned with an eye roll, "There won't be enough anyway, once Friar Doones gets done with me. I have to stay put for several hours, where nothing can be solved, just so I'll be the one to accept his gracious gift of bureaucratic bullshit." I raised my head, and gave him a look of irony. "Sometimes, I wish running this circus troupe could be boring for just one day."
I saw a smirk cross one side of his mouth, as he approached the desk. "I don't think you really want boring right now. You just want to get on with our business, and not have to worry about the mistakes of everyone around you."
"Well, duh," I shot back, "But nothing I can do would make it that simple."
"And who said anything about you?" He stopped in front of me, and crossed his arms as he laid them on the hardwood surface. "You just need a little help from your friends. Know what you could really use?"
I felt the sarcasm before it even came out of my mouth. "I'm sure I haven't the slightest."
He made sure I was looking straight at him before dropping the bombshell. "A new lead. One you have the opportunity to start checking out right now."
I must've looked like I thought he was crazy, because I sure as hell did. "You need me to loan you a q-tip so you can clean out your ears? I can't leave this office until Doones shows up with those papers."
He glared, as more of a joke than an irate objection. "I heard you loud and clear. Now hear this: I'm proposing to stay here and wait for him, while you head out to the docks. I know exactly what kind of school-exam nonsense he's laid on you, to silence the attorneys. I could have it done before you even reach the warehouse."
I laughed again, this time for a different reason. "You think that son of a bitch would let anybody but me around that stuff? He's already had to reprint it, after someone I won't name fucked up the first copy. He's not going to agree to that, even if it's a high-roller like you."
He was completely unfazed. "You're pleasantly mistaken. A number of years ago, I did what every powerful man in America has tried at least once... Ran locally for an empty seat in politicts, under the radar. Of course, I lost, or I'd be somewhere else entirely right now. But in that short span of time, I rubbed shoulders with some high-rank imbeciles, including Doones. He knows what I'm made of, so buying him off will be easier than your girlfriend."
What a lovely parting shot. "...I don't think I caught that last part," I seethed, in a complete lie.
"Heh, thin-skinned and cold-blooded. I'm just trying to help you out here; I can't imagine why you don't trust me to know what I'm talking about. Especially after your reaction when I mentioned my stake in G.U.N."
All traces of offense I'd taken to his personal joke were soon forgotten, and I settled back into relaxed skepticism. "Ngh, I trust you enough. I just don't think you realize how... Odd your methods are, compared to everyone else."
I could almost see an unplaceable twinkle in his eye. "Comparisons are for the insecure, and salesmen. But, thanks for the compliment, all the same. Now," he continued, leaning down a bit, "Do you want this break, or did I come all the way over here just to play a practical joke with a phone?"
Now, put yourself in my shoes for a minute. You've just been given the option to leave a crippling load of legalities behind, for a chance almost guaranteed to bring progress... Or at least, some sort of answers. Would you really care if a small bribe, by someone else , was involved?
Yeah, me neither. "*Sigh* You said something about your warehouse?"
"One of them," he corrected, "And a different one than his first strike. I'm sure I don't have to tell you, but this isn't some isolated theft anymore... He knows what he means to do. Now, at the rate he seems to be going, he won't break me financially... But the publicity sure as hell will. I can't keep the news stations at bay forever; Once the owners hear that their losses are due to someone targeting my property, whether it's Sonic or not-"
"-They'll drop your services like a hot potato. I know, I know." I took a few moments to think, which didn't really help, but I did come to a conclusion. "It looks like I'll have to make the trip out there either way."
"Then we're of the same mind." He snatched a pen from the holder in front of me, and started looking around. "Where do you keep... Ah, never mind."
I didn't know what he wanted, until I watched his clawed hand shoot towards me, grabbing my arm. I started to jerk away, but stopped as he took the pen to my palm. Amazingly, he was writing the address upside-down... The way he knew I'd be able to read it.
After he finished, I held up my hand to read it back. "420 Portman's Way. Garage Four." I looked up to ask, but he did his own mind-reading.
"The space where an original '62 wooden Rebel, valued at eighty thousand, used to sit. Lucky you're heading out just before dusk; you might catch him in the act, if he's dumb enough to try the same building twice in succession."
"I wouldn't call that lucky," I returned flatly. "What the hell would I say to cover up my motive for being there?"
He smiled. "The truth; that you're a friend of the landlord's. Beyond that, it's none of his business." Slowly, he leaned back up, and glanced at his Rolex. "Just shy of three. I'd say you have about an hour's walk ahead of you."
"Walk!?" I shot back with a grin. " Fuck that, I've put my legs through too much already. I'm takin' a cab."
"Well, suit yourself," he seemed to give in. "... If you don't think it would look suspicious to have a taxi drop you off by a storage building."
One sentence, and he deflated every ounce of smugness within me. I stared down at the desk, dreading the need for another cross-city hike, before finally pushing myself to rise out of the chair and grab the camera.
"I don't think he's ready to turn himself in, so I'd better get going." The strap went over my neck, and I went through the drawer to find the pad that N couldn't.
A single, satisfied nod. "Good luck. I'm sure that before my wait is over, I'll be wishing I'd gone with you. But, the man upstairs didn't make me to blend in with anything." He paused, and cast his eyes down to the floor with a clearly-fake frown. "Except maybe the set of Laugh-In."
I started to think he'd missed his calling after all... As a comedian. "True," I chuckled with my hand on the doorknob, "But you couldn't go anyway, if you're going to play accountant for me." I turned it and stepped halfway out, but remembered one last thing that needed to be done. As my eyes went back to him, it was almost funny, thinking of how he'd so willingly taken my place.
"And N?"
His eyebrow raised. "Yes?"
"... Thanks. You know, for everything."
He shuffled his feet, proving he wasn't above being humble. "Not necessary. My thanks will be to get back my security."
"Tch, I'm workin' on it," I replied, and couldn't think of anything more. So, with a look that was half-amused, half-respectful, I gave him a relaxed wave, before the closing door blocked my view.
I would've done anything, just to prevent going out on foot for what seemed like the millionth time. But once I was back on solid concrete, it hardly crossed my mind. The big picture of three or so days was coming together, slowly but surely, and it already had me reeling. In that half a week, I'd changed both the company policy and our methods of casework, taken up with an offbeat client in a shady, dead-end tavern I wouldn't normally go near, slept with the least likely woman in my everyday world, and fired the same employee whose last case had ended in fire, by the hand of his still-employed co-worker. And all but one of those things had been done while I was sober. My hand sat on my chin as I crossed from downtown into the street-market district, a pose that reflected just how caught up in the madness I'd become. Had I made a mistake by firing Charmy? Or, in light of straight facts, was the mistake in not putting Espio on the chopping block instead?
What was he even doing, as I headed for the shoddy industrial patchwork that straddled the docks?
No matter how unlikely, it was still a possibility he'd laid out just like Charmy, and only stopped by to cover his tracks. Maybe that was why the overbearing squirt had showed up, too, and then left because I wasn't there. Honestly, I can't say I blamed them; it was easy to see how their faith in me had started to dwindle. They had to feel lost, after trying so hard to make everything work in my absence. And Charmy had it the worst... He now had no way to make up the hours lost in his failure. I'm sure alot of people would've caved in for guilt at that point, thinking they'd been the cause of untold disaster. But I didn't; even with the part my decisions had played in it, I knew one thing was far more responsible than any action of mine.
Timing. Coming off the high of press coverage, I'd taken a monumental and delicate case. I gave no warning to either of my help, before launching their doomed solo careers. Rouge caught me when I was vulnerable, and used me twice, in two different ways. From that, and the rage it stirred, I'd probably been searching for an excuse to blow up. Enter Charmy's unknown locale, and the rest is as much history as his stint with Chaotix.
It made sickening sense, more than most anything so far. The street vendors were out, the same as any other day in that neighborhood, and the smell of fresh meat, bread and produce combined into a diner's euphoria. I could hear their owners yelling for me as I passed, begging that I try just a sample, or buy a handful outright. In the back of my mind, I knew why they wanted my attention. To be out walking their streets, clearly thinking about something, they saw me as another customer. But with more burdens than Atlas, their friendly looks and eager attitude came across in a completely different way. They were curious, nosy, even judging. If I walked by without opening my wallet, they would remember, and spread the word through their houses and hangouts of how cheap and rotten and worthless I was. On every corner for close to a mile, the same routine, and the same feeling. I was paranoid, and I knew it, but I couldn't very well fly over the whole section of town. So I ignored myself, and focused on the job that had gotten me out in the first place.
At last, it ended, in a row of grimy and dilapidated businesses. Half of them were health-insurance providers, and the other half law offices for civil and class-action suits. Just beyond, was the area that fed them their life-giving business... The smoke-belching factories of the Port district.
For a few shining moments, my worries were forgotten. I'd seen so little of the city's brownfield underbelly, going there was almost like a vacation. Huge, hulking towers of brick and stucco, with sixty-foot roofs that shouldered up to every intersection. Several times, I looked to the right between buildings, and caught the wavy shimmer of sunlight from a nearby bay. The water, as far as I could tell, was a natural blue, despite its surroundings; and the croc in me lusted after the thought of taking a dip. No wonder, how it hypnotized those who can afford a boat into ownership... Or for that matter, why N could find profit in renting them the necessary space.
Space that Sonic must've felt he had a right to violate. I was still in the dark about his actions... Nothing in his personality would suggest he'd turn dirty for money. Then again, the greatest crimes of our age are remembered for how unlikely they seemed, if only at the time. Besides, I knew he wasn't taking them apart just to give them to charity. At least, when my job was done, I would know the 'why', to go along with the 'who', 'where' and 'when'.
The moment I spotted the sign, my heart almost leaped. Portman's Way led off to the right, lined by nothing but more cloned factories and storage buildings; a plain name for a plain street. I had no watch, but from the sun's height I judged it to be around four. Now that I was at an angle from the rest of my route, the difference was phenomenal. That late in the year, its rays were too steep in the afternoons to touch urban pavement, and hung close to a foot above the sidewalk on exterior walls. Surreal, when laid against crumbling masonry and faded fields of paint. It brought to mind some post-apocalyptic film, with small traces of old nature above bunkers and fallout shelters. Most would've seen it as ugly, or even dangerous... To me, it was the best sightseeing Central City could offer, brilliant because it was unpolished.
Block 420 ended up being right next to the water. This brought up another question; why would The Honourable Hedgehog even bother to take the crafts apart, if he could just drive them out into the harbour?
Then, I remembered the answer: the Coast Guard, of course. He wasn't as stupid as I wanted to think.
The building itself surprised me; it had arched windows, fins on all four upper corners, and two leaded-glass doors for a main entrance. The more average parts of its design were aged further. Obviously, N had done a few upfits, probably to make it a bit more welcoming. I wondered, as I stared up at the monolith, if he'd started to regret that.
My eyes went back to the doors, along with a growing smile. After the emphasis N had put on my 'closeness' to Sonic as the reason I landed the job, I'd never expected having to visit his property at all. But it would be interesting, to search for clues around all of those hard-charging water toys... Classics, racers, luxury cruisers, and whatever else he'd been paid to protect. Best of all, with their expensive specs and standard fiberglass bodies, tampering of any kind would be a cinch to recognize.
I could only hope. Strolling up to the class-oozing entrance, I cupped my hands beside my eyes and peeked inside. No lights, but there was probably a switch, though I couldn't guarantee it would work. In any case, I'd find out soon enough.
Showtime, and I was the only witness, should anything go wrong. Sweat had started to bead above my eyes, which I wiped away with the back of my hand. It didn't return to my side, but instead gripped one of the diamond-shaped knobs. Then, as I leaned into it, the heavy door gave and creaked open. With my other hand holding the pad over my heart, to muffle its beating, I slowly placed my foot inside the darkness.
To be continued...