Chapter 6: It Has Layers (Part 3)
Valerie's fingers clumsily grazed the ceramic rim of her coffee cup, a mistimed gesture almost tipping it into her lap. Her heart lurched with the abrupt motion, and she steadied the cup with a quick snatch, only to be met by the hollow clink of emptiness against the wooden table. The realization that this was perhaps her seventh or eighth attempt at solace through caffeine left her with a dry chuckle, one born more out of weariness than amusement.
The persistent thrumming in her veins echoed the steady tick of the office clock, each pulse a reminder of the sleep she'd foregone and the coffee she'd consumed. With a twitch here and a shiver there, her body betrayed her fatigue, making her every movement a tremulous dance. Her hands, once steady and precise, now quivered with an energy that spilled over from the realm of alertness into discomfort. She could feel the involuntary jitter of her leg beneath the table, a rhythmic tapping that resonated with the heightened tension that had taken root within her.
As the high from the caffeine surged like an erratic current through her system, Valerie's determination to maintain composure warred with her physical state. She was dogged in pursuit of the truth, her resolve undiminished despite the toll on her body, but the tremors were a quiet rebellion against her iron will, a silent protest that spoke volumes of the sleepless night she spent reading this.
Stretching some kinks out of her back, Valerie's spine arched against the back of the worn leather chair, coaxing a symphony of creaks from its aging frame. The deliberate lean was less about comfort and more a tactical maneuver; she wedged her furry tail firmly between herself and the seat, hoping to suppress its involuntary twitching—a telltale sign of her inner turmoil that she could ill afford in front of her perceptive boss.
Sketch's presence filled the room, his black-and-white coat blurring into the soft morning glow that streamed through the half-open blinds. In these early hours, with the sun casting long shadows across his figure, Valerie couldn't help but muse how he seemed every bit the part of his breed—a steady Dalmatian among the ink-stained chaos of the newsroom. It was as if the light played tricks on her tired eyes, making his spots fade and dance, rendering him as a figure both comforting and enigmatic.
She watched, heart thudding unevenly, as he continued to sift through the documents she'd laid before him—those same pages that had sent her hurtling into the Saint Street Times' office as soon as the sun was up, her sense of urgency and battling exhaustion, barely leashed by the fraying edges of her professionalism.
Sketch's fingers lingered on a particularly dense paragraph, his brow furrowing into deeper furrows with each line he read. The room was still save for the occasional rustling of paper under his touch and the soft, rhythmic tapping of Valerie's foot—a nervous habit she found difficult to still.
She observed Sketch's wiry frame, the way it seemed to fold in on itself like an old, well-worn book spine that had seen too many late nights and early mornings. The stoop of his shoulders told tales of years spent hunched over typewriters clacking out stories that shaped the world, one keystroke at a time. Now, as he absorbed the weight of the words before him, his posture seemed to curve even more, as though the gravity of their content tethered him physically to the document.
The air was thick with the scent of old paper, the kind that yellowed with time and held onto the essence of newsprint long after it had left the press. It mingled with the rich aroma of ink—a smell so inherent to their profession it was practically embedded in the walls of the Saint Street Times office. A less discernible scent weaved through the familiar odors; the unmistakable, acrid tang of tobacco that clung stubbornly to Sketch despite the countless articles they'd published on the health risks. Valerie knew it was a battle her boss fought and lost daily, the evidence often smoldering in the tray on his desk.
As Sketch turned another page, the sound like metal grinding stone in the hushed atmosphere, a sharp reminder of the tension that hung between them. Valerie watched, her tail now motionless, pressed securely by her own will against the chair beneath.
His piercing eyes flickered along the text, causing Valerie to glance back to her own part of the file still trying to wrangle her mind around… just so many different things.
**Court Martial Document**
**Case Number:** 56789/CM
**Date:** May 5th
**Presiding Officer:** Colonel Collin Smythe
**Prosecutor:** Major Gregory Blackwood
**Defendant:** Jamison Broadway
**Charge:** Impersonation of a Commanding Officer
**Document Extension**
**Plea:** Not Guilty
**Defendant's Counsel:** Captain Elaine Lawrence
**Witnesses:**
1) Corporal Jonah Lockwood
2) Lieutenant Michelle Blair
**Summary of Events:** On the date of November 12, during the South Sea Expeditionary Vanguard - 11th Battalion Marine Infantry and Engineering's operation on Tupelo Island, Commander Wilson was incapacitated by enemy fire. In the absence of a clear chain of command, Jamison Broadway assumed a leadership role within the battalion. While it is evident that Broadway never explicitly claimed the title of commander, his actions during the operation and following events have raised suspicions of impersonation.
**Evidence Presented:**
1. Testimonies from various members of the battalion alleging that Broadway took command without proper authorization.
2. Logs from the communications center indicating irregularities in Broadway's orders.
3. Witness statements detailing Broadway's demeanor and actions during his assumed command.
4. Medical records showing Broadway's injury sustained during the operation.
**Prosecution's Argument:**
Major Blackwood argues that regardless of Broadway's intentions, impersonating a commanding officer is a serious offense that compromises the integrity of a military organization. He presents evidence of decisions made by Broadway that could have put the battalion at unnecessary risk, asserting that these choices reflect Broadway's lack of appropriate command training.
**Court Transcript**
**Presiding Officer:** Colonel Theodore Smythe
**Prosecutor:** Major Gregory Blackwood
**Defense Counsel:** Captain Rebecca Montgomery
**Defendant:** Jamison Broadway
---
Major Blackwood: Your Honor, members of the court, today we are here to address a grave matter of breach of military protocol and trust. [fixes a glare at Jamison] The accused, Jamison Broadway, stands before us charged with the reprehensible act of impersonating a commanding officer. Now, I won't mince words, ladies and gentlemen, Broadway's actions, no matter how he spins them, represent a blatant disregard for the hierarchy and sanctity of military command.
[Jamison interrupts angrily]
Jamison Broadway: Hold on a damn minute! You don't know the half of it, Blackwood! Wilson was practically dead after G.U.N. abandoned us! I had to step up to keep the battalion together!
Colonel Smythe:[interrupting] Sargeant Broadway, one more outburst like that and I'll have you in contempt! Major Blackwood, watch your language and stick to the facts.
Major Blackwood: My apologies, Your Honor. But let's not allow emotional outbursts to cloud the facts here. Broadway's little sob story doesn't change the fact that he overstepped his bounds and made decisions that could've cost lives. He's not fit to lead, and he damn well knows it. [sneers at Jamison]
Colonel Smythe: Major Blackwood, this is a court, not a stage for your theatrics. Watch your language and show proper respect to the defendant and his commanding officer.
Major Blackwood: Yes, Your Honor. My apologies.
Colonel Smythe: Continue with your argument, but keep it civil.
Major Blackwood: Of course, Your Honor. In conclusion, Broadway's actions were reckless, dangerous, and a clear violation of military protocol. He cannot be allowed to escape accountability for his actions. Testimonies from various members of the battalion alleging that Broadway took command without proper authorization. These testimonies, collected meticulously and without bias, paint a vivid picture of a man hungry for power, willing to trample over established protocols to satisfy his own ego. Logs from the communications center indicating glaring irregularities in Broadway's orders. These logs, Your Honor, are damning evidence of the defendant's incompetence and disregard for the safety of his subordinates. His reckless actions endangered not only the mission but the lives of every soldier under his command. Witness statements detailing Broadway's demeanor and actions during his assumed command. These statements, collected from reliable sources within the battalion, portray a man consumed by hubris, wielding authority he had no right to possess. His behavior was nothing short of disgraceful, tarnishing the reputation of the military and its esteemed traditions. Medical records showing Broadway's injury sustained during the operation. While it is true that the defendant suffered injuries during the operation, Your Honor, let us not allow sympathy to cloud our judgment. Broadway's physical condition does not absolve him of the grave charges he faces. If anything, it further illustrates his incapacity to lead effectively in times of crisis.
[Major Blackwood takes his seat]
**End of Transcript**
**Events Following Accusation:**
Upon questioning, Jamison Broadway admitted to taking up leadership duties, stating that it was a dire necessity to prevent disarray and chaos among the ranks. Broadway insists his actions were in the best interest of ensuring the safety of his battalion and fulfilling their mission objectives.
**Defense Argument:**
1. Broadway was elected by other officers and regular soldiers to take command in the absence of Commander Wilson.
2. Broadway's actions were in the best interest of the battalion's survival and were never intended to deceive or impersonate.
3. Broadway relinquished command immediately upon the battalion's rescue and return to base.
**Defense's Argument:**
Captain Lawrence counters that in a situation where the appointed leader was unfit for duty, immediate action was necessary. She states that Broadway's actions were not of premeditated impersonation, but a desperate effort to keep his fellow soldiers alive in a dire situation. She argues that Broadway only assumed leadership under unusual circumstances and with the full consensus of his fellow officers. She further asserts that he used Commander Wilson's strategy to the best of his understanding.
Major Blackwood: Mr. Broadway, you've admitted to taking up leadership duties without proper authorization. Do you deny that this constitutes impersonation of a commanding officer?
Jamison Broadway: No, I don't deny it. But you're twisting the context. It was a dire necessity—
Major Blackwood: Necessity? Or an opportunity to play hero? [leans forward] Tell me, Mr. Broadway, did you relish the chance to play commander, even if it meant trampling over the established chain of command?
Jamison Broadway: [growing agitated] That's not what happened! I did what I had to do to—
Captain Montgomery: Objection, Your Honor. The prosecution is badgering the witness.
Colonel Smythe: Sustained. Major Blackwood, keep your questioning focused and refrain from making unfounded accusations.
Major Blackwood:[pausing to compose himself] My apologies, Your Honor. Let's return to the facts, shall we? Mr. Broadway, you claim it was a dire necessity. But isn't it true that you could have sought guidance from other senior officers instead of taking matters into your own hands?
Jamison Broadway: I did what I thought was best in the heat of the moment. There wasn't time to consult others.
Major Blackwood: So, you're admitting to acting impulsively, without considering the potential consequences of your actions?
Jamison Broadway: No, I considered the consequences. I weighed the risks and made a decision to ensure the safety of—
Major Blackwood:[interrupting] Ah, but did you consider the ramifications for the integrity of the chain of command? Did you consider the chaos and confusion your actions could have caused among the ranks?
Jamison Broadway: Of course I did! But—
Captain Montgomery: Objection, Your Honor. The prosecution is leading the witness.
Colonel Smythe: Sustained. Major Blackwood, refrain from leading the witness and allow him to answer the questions.
Major Blackwood: Yes, Your Honor. My apologies. [regaining composure] Mr. Broadway, did you ever receive formal training in command and leadership prior to assuming control of the battalion?
Jamison Broadway: No, I did not.
Major Blackwood: So, you admit that you lacked the proper qualifications and training to effectively lead the battalion?
Jamison Broadway: I may not have had formal training, but I did my best to fulfill the duties of a commander to the best of my ability.
Major Blackwood: And yet, despite your best efforts, isn't it true that there were irregularities in your orders, as evidenced by the logs from the communications center?
Jamison Broadway: There may have been some confusion, but—
Major Blackwood: Confusion? Or incompetence? [fixes a piercing gaze at Jamison]
Captain Montgomery: Objection, Your Honor. Badgering the witness again.
Colonel Smythe: Sustained. This is your last warning, Major Blackwood, I will not tolerate further disrespect towards the witness. Keep your questioning focused and professional.
Major Blackwood: Understood, Your Honor. The prosecution rests.
Colonel Smythe: Very well. Captain Montgomery, you may proceed with the cross-examination.
Captain Montgomery: Thank you, Your Honor.
[Captain Montgomery stands up, adjusting her glasses before addressing Jamison Broadway]
Captain Montgomery: Mr. Broadway, you've testified that you assumed command of the battalion in a time of crisis. Can you elaborate on the events that led to your decision?
Jamison Broadway: Certainly. Commander Wilson was incapacitated, and the situation on Tupelo Island was deteriorating rapidly. We were under heavy enemy fire, and there was no clear chain of command. I stepped up to prevent chaos and ensure the safety of the soldiers.
Captain Montgomery: And did you consult with any senior officers before assuming command?
Jamison Broadway: There wasn't time. We were in the midst of combat, and I had to act quickly.
Captain Montgomery: I see. Now, regarding the irregularities in your orders mentioned by the prosecution, can you explain why they occurred?
Jamison Broadway: The situation was chaotic, and communication was difficult. I did my best to relay orders effectively, but mistakes may have occurred under the circumstances.
Captain Montgomery: So, would you say that your actions were driven by a desire to deceive or manipulate the battalion, as the prosecution suggests?
Jamison Broadway: Absolutely not. My only concern was the safety and well-being of the soldiers under my command.
Captain Montgomery: No further questions, Your Honor.
Colonel Smythe: Very well. Major Blackwood, any redirect?
Major Blackwood: No, Your Honor.
Colonel Smythe: Very well. Mr. Broadway, you may step down. Court will adjourn until further notice.
**End of Transcript**
**Witness Testimony:**
1) Corporal Jonah Lockwood: On the stand, Lockwood stated Broadway did indeed step in where Commander Wilson fell. However, he claimed that it was out of necessity, not desire for power or control. Lockwood further admitted he followed Broadway's orders as they appeared to be strategic and resulted in minimal casualties.
Major Blackwood: Thank you for joining us, Corporal Lockwood. Now, you've testified that Mr. Broadway assumed command in the absence of Commander Wilson. Is that correct?
If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.
Corporal Jonah Lockwood: Yes, sir, that's correct.
Major Blackwood: And would you agree that taking command without proper authorization is a serious breach of military protocol?
Corporal Jonah Lockwood: Normally, yes. But under the circumstances—
Major Blackwood: [interrupting] Ah, yes, the circumstances. You seem to believe that Mr. Broadway's actions were justified. Care to elaborate?
Corporal Jonah Lockwood: Well, sir, with Commander Wilson down, the situation was chaotic. Mr. Broadway stepped up to prevent further disarray.
Major Blackwood: But would you not agree that there were other senior officers who could have taken command instead?
Corporal Jonah Lockwood: There were, sir, but Mr. Broadway acted quickly. We needed someone to make decisions in the heat of the moment.
Major Blackwood: So, you're saying Mr. Broadway was a hero? A savior?
Corporal Jonah Lockwood: I wouldn't put it like that, sir. He did what he thought was best for the battalion.
Major Blackwood: [sarcastically] How noble. Tell me, Corporal, did you ever stop to consider whether Mr. Broadway enjoyed the taste of power? Did it thrill him to bark orders at his fellow soldiers?
Corporal Jonah Lockwood: No, sir. Mr. Broadway's intentions were clear. He only wanted to—
Captain Rebecca Montgomery: Objection, Your Honor. The prosecution is badgering the witness.
Major Blackwood: And yet, at what cost, Corporal? How many of your squad mates paid the ultimate price under his command? [takes file and opens it] There was Private Colleen, Private Turner, Corporal Donald, Privat-
Corporal Jonah Lockwood: [standing up] Motherfucker, who the fuck do you- you have no right! He did what he had to do to keep us alive!
Colonel Smythe: Order! Corporal Lockwood, please sit down.
Corporal Jonah Lockwood: [reluctantly sitting back down] Yes, sir.
Colonel Smythe: Major Blackwood! Your line of questioning is—
[At this moment, Jamison collapses out of his chair, foaming at the mouth, and seizing]
Colonel Smythe: Medical assistance, now!
[The courtroom erupts into chaos as medics rush to attend to Jamison]
--- **End of Transcript**
**Jamison's Medical Condition**
Mr. Broadway has collapsed due to a severe wound on his right shoulder, which has been left untreated since his arrest. There is no documentation he was cared for during this time. Upon further inspection, doctor's found an infected knife wound with a piece of the blade imbedded in the right scapula. Immediate surgery was performed to remove the foreign object and treat the infection. His heightened stress and weakened condition due to lack of proper nourishment likely contributed to his collapse.
From this point forward, Jamison is tried in absentia. Colonel Smythe has ordered an investigation into the neglect of Mr. Broadway's medical needs while in custody.
2) Lieutenant Michelle Blair: Blair corroborated Lockwood's testimony, adding that Broadway demonstrated a keen understanding of tactical strategies that likely saved numerous lives.
**Verdict:**
After careful deliberation and consideration of all evidence presented, this court finds Jamison Broadway **not guilty** of the charge of impersonation of a commanding officer. The circumstances of his assumption of command, the lack of evidence indicating intent to impersonate, and his subsequent actions in the interest of the battalion's welfare weigh heavily in his favor.
**Conclusion:**
While this court acknowledges the confusion and chaos of wartime situations, it is imperative that all actions are conducted within the boundaries of military law. However, it is evident to this court that Jamison Broadway's actions were not driven by malice or deceit but by a sense of duty and responsibility to his fellow soldiers. The decision to assume command was made in the heat of battle, and his subsequent conduct reflects his commitment to the welfare of the battalion. Therefore, the court dismisses all charges against Jamison Broadway.
**Note:**
The court acknowledges the outcry among the battalion regarding the treatment of Jamison Broadway. While justice has been served in this case, it is imperative for military leadership to address any grievances and ensure the morale and cohesion of the unit moving forward.
It had taken her less than an hour to break. Ixis Mogul had laid out bait so juicy that even the most seasoned journalist couldn't resist, and she had fallen for it hook, line, and sinker. Not only had she taken the bait, but she'd brought it straight to Sketch, presenting a golden opportunity on a silver platter.
Somehow the mammoth had gotten his hands on the after-action report, a heavily redacted version which had so much black ink there would barely three words to share over three pages, but still it was more than they had before. Information in their line of work was worth its weight in gold and, like gold, had been rare to get since the war ended. This...this was a pretty hefty nugget.
Tupelo Island, a small, isolated landmass located in the heart of the Southern Ocean, served as the operational theater for one of the most brutal and deadly conflicts of the entire war. That had been a fact generally known to the public. This file expanded on so many things she hadn't known and that she never would've guessed.
The unexpected collapse of central command led to a lack of communication, rendering the South Sea Expeditionary Vanguard - 11th Battalion Marine Infantry and Engineering, oblivious to the surrender and isolated from necessary support, including resupply and reinforcement. The severe breakdown in the chain of command, with targeted assaults on commanding officers had left the unit in a dangerous state of disarray. The Vanguard was essentially stranded on Tupelo Island, fighting a war that had officially ended, unaware of their isolation and abandonment.
Valerie's breath hitched as she read on, her eyes analyzing every smudge of black ink which cut out pertinent parts, trying to piece together what lay beneath what G.U.N. didn't want seen.
Valerie felt her fingers tremble as they trailed along the blacked-out lines. Between her emotional investment in the fate of the Vanguard and the adrenaline of uncovering fresh, forbidden information, she was a bundle of raw nerves. Where the word 'mutiny' would pop up between black bars like a teasing game of Scattergories dumped a fresh dose of anticipation in her mind.
Sketch closed the file with a definitive snap that made her jump a bit, his eyes meeting hers across the table. "You look like hell, Val," he said gently, setting the file down and giving her his full attention.
"I feel worse." She admitted sheepishly, forcing a smile as she reached forward to refill her coffee cup. Her fingers closed on the pot and she only realized it was empty when its weight didn't match what she expected. 'Too much anyway.'
"But I needed to get this to you once I realized what I was reading."
"Flying in the face of what I told you not to do," A deep sigh escaped Sketch's lips and Valerie couldn't help the twinge of guilt. He paused, removed his round spectacles and pinched the bridge of his nose before setting them back onto their rightful place. "Valerie," he began in that resonating baritone that still held an edge of kindness despite the sternness of his features. "Do you understand what we're dealing with here?"
She wanted to retort, to argue that of course, she understood, that's why she was here. But the words caught in her throat; she could only nod mutely.
The orange cat tried to focus her bleary eyes on the file in front of her, but the caffeine jitters were making it difficult. She had been up all night going over the reports, trying to make sense of the limited information available, trying to grapple that Ixis Mogul was upfront with this information. Just because she'd metaphorically nibbled on the hook didn't mean it had dug in.
Sketch folding his hands together on top of the file, leaning back in an attempt to gather his frustrated thoughts. "I mean it, Val," he said after a long pause. "This isn't some petty thief or a white-collar crime who contacted you."
'And don't I know it.' Ixis Mogul, the self-admitted criminal, was a ghost in the system. Whatever crimes he may or may not have committed, he hadn't left a fingerprint, footprint, or any tangible trace behind to connect them to him. Mammoths were rare enough, but this one barely existed even in the legal channels. Public records showed him as little more than a small businessman who owned the land the most popular club in Station Square stood on.
But that was just the surface, Valerie knew. Not just anyone could get their hands on that file. Not that she could prove it if she wanted to. The recorder in her bag had glitched or something because the playback carried nothing but static.
Valerie sighed, her shoulders sagging under the weight of the case. She pushed her auburn hair back from her face, tiring eyes glancing once more at the blurry images and scrambled codes on the paper. There was something they were missing, a key piece of information that would make everything click into place.
"And yet," Sketch continued, his tone hardening. "He reached out to you. He gave us this file."
His emphasis on the word 'us' was not lost on Valerie. She pulled Sketch into this, whether she liked it or not.
"We can't use this." He tapped the file with a finger. "G.U.N. and the government would have the Time's hide in court. My strongest suggestion is to go back to this Mogul, give him the file back, and say 'thank you but I changed my mind'."
His suggestion wasn't unreasonable, but it was far from what Valerie wanted. Sketch's brows furrowed deeply as he mulled over the situation. He was silent for a long moment, his gaze lost somewhere past her shoulder. Finally, he nodded, albeit reluctantly. "But I feel like you're going to go through with this. So, all the information you write will have to come from this… Jamison Broadway. Not a word from this file is to make it in."
Her ears perked, not quite sure she was hearing right. "Does this mean… Are you saying…? That you'll…" Her mouth slightly ajar, Valerie blinked at him in surprise, as if waiting for some hidden catch to be dropped. Sketch sighed, leaning back in his chair with the weight of the decision clearly visible on his face. "Yes, Valerie," he responded, confirming her unspoken inquiry. "The story will run. The powers that be only told me that certain paths were meant to be… less walked."
Silence enveloped them and time seemed to stop for a minute. It was the first victory, a small one perhaps with the confirmation that the government had come to Sketch, but a victory nonetheless. Briefly closing her eyes, she allowed herself to savor the moment before moving on to the next step. "But do not sign anything with this criminal. Do as he says but the moment something doesn't feel right, you cut and run, understand?"
"I understand," she nodded, her voice hushed in the heavy silence. Sketch's gaze held hers, his dark eyes serious and resolute.
X-X
"I'm certain you can understand why I have to ask, what business is it of yours who I associate with?"
Ixis Mogul considered himself a man of means and taste. He was, of course. While his office lay behind a thick pasting of garish neon and vulgar racket the youth today considered music, his sound proofed workspace had become the closest thing to home as he could get. His spacious office was a stark contrast to the cacophony outside and he preferred it that way. It gave him space to think, to plan.
Some of the finery was affectation. The large wall-to-wall climate-controlled liquor cabinet with rare, old, and expensive wines and brandies were for show and not for his drinking. Even the decanter was full of much cheaper whiskey. The real stuff, the good stuff Nack once called it, was in the lowest drawer to the right and only for himself and shared his discretion.
The desk itself was custom-made to resemble the one he had once had before, a fine Richwood construction made out of trees from his homeland and the great barrier to protect himself if things got... Difficult during his dealings.
The comfortable seating for any guests brought to the back as well as the few trinkets and paintings lining the walls, was all part of a carefully cultivated atmosphere. Mogul leaned back in his chair, idly swirling the amber liquid in his glass. He inspected her over the rim, his eyes momentarily flashing as he took a sip. Considering who was sitting in the chair opposite him, he wished he could have changed the chairs of the something much more uncomfortable.
"And I'm sure you understand why it is our business," The feminine collected and convivial voice responded. "It's not every day top-secret information ends up in criminal hands."
The G.U.N. Agent crossed her legs, leaning back in the chair in just the right way to jutt out the pink heart-shaped chest plate she wore pursing her lips in a lascivious pout. The mammoth wasn't sure if he should have been impressed she was making the attempt to play him or insulted she thought so little of him to expect them to react like lesser men.
He thought better than to get upset. Not only would it not do any good, he knew her reputation. Rouge the Bat was shrewd spy, a superb informant, and an excellent negotiator. She put all those skills to the test during the war while she was in The Resistance and scored excellently. Now that the status quo had returned, it seemed she was back with her loose association with the government.
She took a sip from her provided drink, and he was gratified to see her ears twitch in displeasure ever so slightly at the taste.
This was G.U.N.'s carrot, as it were. The stick stood at her shoulder and a little behind, a silent sentinel.
Even if Mogul somehow managed to fool himself into thinking he was safe around the bat, the glare from Shadow the hedgehog would've put pay to that. The ultimate life form was not known for his patience or forgiving nature, and his presence alone served as a stern reminder of the forces aligned against Mogul.
Shadow's eyes, a deep red that seemed to pierce through the pretenses of any situation, never left Mogul, tracking every minute expression and shift in posture. The hedgehog's stance was relaxed but ready, an embodiment of potential kinetic energy just waiting to be unleashed.
He was the main reason why this conversation wasn't private. Fang and Nack were by his side, all casual but with their hands never straying far from the pistols on their hips. Sergeant Simian stood at the door leading into the club proper, his massive bulk good enough to turn away most intruders at a glance suddenly very insufficient. Predator Hawk evened the score a little. Out of everyone present on his staff, he was the one with the fastest reaction time
Rouge, ever the conversationalist, shifted the focus back to the matter at hand. "So, Mr. Mogul, let's cut to the chase. We're here about the file—the one you so generously shared with our mutual friend Valerie. We want it back."
He wasn't the slightest bit surprised. Someone had eyes on the reporter or a bug at her place of work, he expected as much. Her speaking to someone about the file, where she got it from, and its contents was equally unsurprising.
Having to roll out the welcome mat as it were merely an hour after Valerie Meadows returned all nervous and pensive but agreeing to his deal however was not in the plan. Thankfully, she was already on a train heading to the southern free cities where he had last picked up Jamison's trail. He had to be at Fortress Town or one of the handfuls of villages by now.
Mogul met Rouge's gaze squarely, his own expression an unreadable mask, steepling his fingers. "I can appreciate your directness, Agent Rouge," he said smoothly, his voice even and devoid of any discernible emotion. He opened up a drawer a laid a file down. It was stamped with official G.U.N. seals, but noticeably thinner than the one in question. "I believe you might find this interesting before we proceed with any transactions."
Rouge's pout turned down at the corners slightly as she reached for the file, her movements deliberate and cautious. Shadow's gaze intensified, his body tensed as if ready to spring into action at any sign of treachery. Mogul watched them both with a faint smirk playing at the edges of his lips; he enjoyed this game of cat and mouse, especially when he felt he had the upper hand. "Well then, now that we know you have it, we can trade your freedom for a pair of new cuffs and 25 to life."
If she expected any reaction, it wasn't Mogul chuckling in her face. "Is something funny?" She asked, her sugared tone edged. Shadow shifted, a subtle movement that was nevertheless filled with potent threat. The muscles under his fur tensed, ready for any command to spring into action. Yet Mogul was unconcerned by the palpable rise in tension. It was always so nice when plans came together so well.
Mogul's chuckle deepened into a resonant laugh, echoing slightly off the fine wood and plush furnishings of his office. "Oh, Agent Rouge," he managed between bouts of mirth, "surely you jest. You come into my domain, armed to the teeth with your G.U.N. watchdogs, and think to intimidate me with threats of imprisonment? You must understand that such threats carry little weight when you have nothing to charge me with. To answer your question, the idea you're going to arrest me over this meaningless pile of papers for one. If you actually used your eyes and read it, you'll see the redactions for…" he paused, rubbing his chin as if contemplating terminology.
"Operational security, boss." Simian brought up from his post at the door.
"That. Thank you." Mogul acknowledged then leaned back in his chair. "That file it the one deemed satisfactory for public review. My methods of requiring it is all legal with a paperwork trail." He paused for effect once more, letting the implication hang in the air like a thick fog.
It was a half-truth. This file was the 'official' copy anyone was allowed to request access to with all the proper redactions and missing pieces that did a great job of illuminating absolutely nothing about the war.
The real file was with Meadows several miles away and gaining the lead with each passing second. Rouge's expression hardened, her eyes narrowing slightly, though her posture remained relaxed. The faux sweetness quickly began melting into a cold, calculating glare as she thumbed through the file. The documents were indeed heavily redacted, each page stamped with "CLASSIFIED" in bold. Her gaze flicked up to meet Mogul's again, her voice ice cold. "This isn't what we came for, and you know it."
She let out a slow recovering the calm, measured femme fatal composure, then settled back into her chair, crossing her arms in front of her. "I know you're not foolish enough to play games with national security, Mogul. So, what's your angle here? Why show us this decoy?"
"Decoy?" Mogul put on an affronted look, knowing better than to admit to anything more than what he had. "Let me make this clear Agents, I followed all the proper channels to get what you have there and even didn't so much as satisfy my curiosity. The existence of such allegations against me using underhanded tactics is purely speculative and, frankly, offensive." He leaned forward, his eyes narrowing to match Rouge's. "What I am, however, is a businessman. And as such, I believe in fair trade, not threats."
His voice dripped with sarcasm as he straightened up in his chair. "However, let's remember that we are all civilized beings here. I suggest we keep our discussions productive." Shadow's glare intensified, the red of his eyes seeming to burn with an unspoken warning. Mogul's attempts to diffuse the situation with civility and claims of legality were met with silent skepticism from the hedgehog.
Rouge, meanwhile, flipped the file closed with a snap that echoed slightly in the room. "Fair trade," she repeated, her tone dripping with irony as she stared Mogul down. "We're aware of your... entrepreneurial spirit, Mogul."
Rouge held Mogul's gaze for a long moment, the tension between them palpable. Then, with a subtle nod to Shadow, she began to unbutton her jacket, slowly revealing an inner pocket from which she retrieved a small, sleek device—a recorder she had been using to capture every word of their conversation. "Very well," she said, her tone turning business-like. "Let's talk trade then. Fair and civilized."
X-X
As the sky bled with streaks of purple and orange, Sonic's figure cut through the evening like a blue comet. Spiral Hill Village loomed ahead, its quaint silhouette marred by the chaos unfolding at its heart. Above the rooftops, a mechanical abomination—a giant Buzz Bomber—hovered ominously, its underbelly opening in spasms to unleash a relentless downpour of Badniks.
"Looks like Robotnik's minions are throwing a party without me," Sonic muttered, his quills bristling with concern. He could almost hear the maniacal cackle of whoever was behind this orchestrated mayhem. "And they're definitely not holding back."
His emerald eyes narrowed as he took in the scene, feet already decelerating as he approached the village's outskirts. The defenses were a patchwork of desperation; barricades fashioned from upturned carts, piles of brick, and anything else the villagers could find. Yet, to Sonic's surprise, these makeshift fortifications funneled the robot horde into narrow alleys where the defenders had the advantage.
"Smart thinking," Sonic acknowledged silently, impressed with the villagers' resourcefulness under fire. It was clear they'd been fighting for their lives, turning every street corner into a strategic battleground.
He felt a surge of urgency, his muscles coiling like springs. Time was of the essence, and every second counted. With a burst of speed that left a gust in his wake, Sonic charged towards the fray, ready to tip the scales in favor of the besieged town of Spiral Hill Village.
Sonic's sneakers skidded on the cobblestones, kicking up dust as he raced into the heart of Spiral Hill Village. The air was thick with the acrid smell of scorched metal and the cacophony of battle—a rhythmic clashing that underscored the gravity of the situation. His blue quills a blur, he weaved through the chaos with an agility that made the treacherous landscape of debris seem like just another Green Hill Zone to conquer.
"Guess it's showtime," Sonic murmured to himself, his cocky grin a stark contrast to the tightening in his chest. As much as he relished the rush of a good fight, the sight before him was daunting: a relentless sea of Badniks pouring into the village, their metallic limbs glinting menacingly in the twilight.
He zipped past a crumbling wall, and what he saw next brought a rare moment of pause. Local militia members, faces set in grim determination, were locked in combat with the Egg Pawns. Villagers who should have been tending to their evening routines now wielded anything they could find—shovels, brooms, even kitchen utensils—in a valiant effort to hold back their attackers.
"Could use a hand here, buddy!" one of the militiamen called out, ducking as an Egg Pawn's claw swiped at him.
"Consider it done!" Sonic replied, already springing into action. With a burst of speed, he launched himself at the nearest Egg Pawn, rolling into a tight ball that became a blue missile of destruction. The Badnik crumpled under the force, its circuits sparking out of existence.
"Thanks, Sonic!" another villager shouted between breaths, her voice laced with both exhaustion and relief.
"Anytime! Stick together, you guys!" Sonic encouraged, not missing a beat as he ricocheted from one enemy to the next. His confidence never wavered, but deep down, a sliver of doubt wormed its way into his thoughts.
"Man, this is nuts," Sonic admitted to himself, his eyes darting around the battlefield, taking stock of their dwindling numbers. "Feels like I'm playing whack-a-mole with these bots, but there's no end to 'em."
The thought was sobering. For all his speed and strength, he was just one hedgehog against an army. It was times like this he wondered if going solo had been the right call. Maybe rejoining the Resistance wasn't such a far-fetched idea after all. They were organized, coordinated, and... not here when they were desperately needed.
Sonic's quills bristled with the static of urgency as he zipped past another row of cottages, their once charming facades marred by scorch marks and the occasional dent from a Badnik skirmish. The sound of his own pulse thundered in his ears, almost drowning out the clashing and clamoring that underscored the village's plight.
"Too quiet," Sonic said to himself, eyes narrowing. "Where are the good guys? I can't be the first one to answer the call..."
His thoughts were cut short by a sudden barrage of laser fire cutting through the waning light. He skidded to a halt just in time, gravel kicking up behind him. Instinctively, he curled into a spin dash, ricocheting off a rogue Egg Pawn that had taken aim at him. Not far ahead, another group of locals, armed with whatever makeshift weapons they could find, stood their ground valiantly against the mechanical horde.
"Guess I'm not the only one fighting the good fight today," Sonic observed, a small grin tugging at his lips despite the gravity of the situation. The sight of the villagers' bravery sparked a flare of pride in his chest. It also brought a stark realization: If he were embedded with the Resistance, coordinating efforts and movements, none of these brave souls would have even known about the assault until it was too late—if at all.
"Can't dwell on 'what ifs'," he chided himself, his eyes scanning the embattled scene before him. Throwing himself back into motion, he dashed towards the nearest cluster of Egg Pawns, intent on tipping the scales in the villagers' favor.
As he closed the distance, a villager's triumphant shout reached his ears, followed by the clanking demise of another Badnik. Sonic slid into view, ready to join the fray, but paused mid-stride. To his surprise, he wasn't alone—not by a long shot. Villagers he hadn't noticed before were everywhere, dodging and weaving, their determination etched onto their faces as they defended their homes with fierce resolve.
"Looks like I underestimated this place," Sonic admitted, a note of respect coloring his voiceWith a flash of cobalt, he revved up once more, joining the militia in their desperate dance to repel the invasion. His heart hammered against his ribs, not with doubt, but with the adrenaline of the moment—the undeniable rush of being exactly where he needed to be.
Amidst the cacophony of battle, Sonic's gaze was drawn to an agile figure—a young female lemur with a defiant glint in her eye. Her movements were a whirlwind of precision and grace as she faced down a squad of Egg Pawns with nothing but her long prehensile tail. With a flick and a twist, she ensnared several of the mechanical menaces, their metal bodies clanging against one another.
In a fluid motion that belied the ferocity of the act, she tightened her grip and swung the Badniks through the air. They collided with a resounding crash, crumpling like tin cans before detonating in a fiery spectacle. The ground shuddered under the concussive force
The lemur stood at the epicenter, her chest heaving with exertion under her yellow t-shirt and black tracksuit. The tip of her tail, singed by the closeness of the explosion, gave off a faint trail of smoke. "Woo! Ow. Woo and ow." She winced, the sharp sting of burnt fur momentarily breaking through her focus.
"Behind you!" Sonic's voice cut through the din of battle, sharp and urgent.
Her ears pricked up at the warning, her body tensing to pivot, but she was a split second too slow. The Egg Pawn, its frame dented and one optic flickering, raised its arm cannon with a whirring sound, aiming squarely at her back.
Before the threat could materialize into a lethal blast, a shot rang out. The Egg Pawn's head snapped back, sparks erupting from its neck as it teetered and collapsed with a final clatter.
"Phew, that was close," Tangle breathed out, turning to see her unexpected savior. She blinked in surprise at the two figures before her. "Thanks,uh… ... um... Sorry, kinda forgot your name."
"Jamison," the hedgehog supplied curtly, smoke curling up from the barrel of his precisely aimed weapon from behind a barrier.
Sonic, meanwhile, eyed Jamison's dress uniform, an incongruous sight amidst the wreckage and warfare. The formal attire seemed untouched by the grime and grit of the battlefield, a stark contrast to the chaos around them. Despite the peculiarity, Sonic held his tongue on the subject, realizing now was not the time for questions about wardrobe choices.
"Nice shot," Sonic complimented with a nod, respect coloring his tone despite the lingering curiosity.
"Anytime," said Jamison, reloading with swift, practiced movements. "Eyes up! "
"Right." Tangle shook off her surprise, her tail flicking defiantly. "We've got robots to smash."
Leaping over a crumbled wall, Sonic landed beside the lemur who had just dispatched another Egg Pawn with a swift, tail punch. She flashed him a grin that was equal parts gratitude and gumption.
"Welcome to Spiral Hill Village," she said, her voice laced with excitment as she surveyed the chaos around them. "Sorry about the mess—robot invasions can be such a hassle."
Sonic couldn't help but smirk at her composure. As he side-stepped an oncoming foe, he quipped back, "What robot problem?" His gloved hand connected with the chassis of an Egg Pawn, sending it spiraling into its comrades with a satisfying crunch.
"Ha! You're sweet," the lemur chuckled, her tail ensnaring two more of the mechanical nuisances. "You seem like you've done this before."
"Once or twice," Sonic replied, brushing off bits of scrap metal from his spikes. He glanced down at her extended tail, which wrapped around his wrist in place of a hand. "Sonic. Sonic the Hedgehog."
"I know who you are!" Tangle exclaimed, her tail lashing out to trip another wave of enemies. She coiled it around one, using the momentum to fling it up and over a house.
"Nice to officially meet you, Sonic." Her tail unwound, allowing her to retrieve a fallen Badnik's arm for a makeshift club. "I'm Tangle. And yeah, I've been tangling with these tin cans for a while now. But you," she gestured with the looted limb at the trail of metallic wreckage laying in the wake of his entrance into town, "you're on a whole other level. Always hoped I'd get to meet the famous blue savior of Mobius in person."
"Charm's all mine." Sonic's quills bristled with the thrill of the fight, and he couldn't help but be impressed by her tenacity. "You handle yourself pretty well, Tangle."
"Thanks, I've had practice," she replied, her voice as steady as her stance. "These little skirmishes used to be more... sporadic. Nothing like this onslaught, though."
"Seems like they're stepping up their game," Sonic noted, watching a new formation of Badniks assemble. A rapid series of shots later and most of the formation was down.
The lemur made a low whistle, impressed. "Definitely. If it wasn't for Jamison showing up when he did..." Tangle trailed off, smashing two Badniks' heads together with a swift twist of her tail. "We might have been overrun before you got here.
"Jamison, huh?" Sonic said, sparing a glance at the green hedgehog who was expertly taking down a Badnik with a precise shot. "Well, good thing we've got all hands—and tails—on deck."
Sonic needed no second bidding; he was already in motion, spinning into a ball. The air whistled past his quills as he soared upwards, meeting the trajectory of the airborne Badniks with pinpoint accuracy. There was a satisfying crunch as metal crumpled under the force of his attack, pieces of the robots scattering like shrapnel against the backdrop of the fading sky.
Landing back on the ground, Sonic skidded to a halt beside Tangle, eyes narrowed as he surveyed the incoming forces. "You know," he began, the adrenaline fueling his words, "these clanking heaps are getting more coordinated by the minute."
"Isn't that the truth," Tangle agreed, her gaze tracking the movements of the Badniks as they regrouped for another assault on the square.
"Looks like someone's got a plan—and I'm here to throw a wrench in it." Sonic's fists clenched with determination.
Sonic's quills bristled as the ground beneath them vibrated, an ominous harbinger of the robotic onslaught to come. The sky, painted in strokes of deep purple and orange twilight, now served as a contrasting canvas to the dark wave of Badniks rolling toward Spiral Hill Village.
"Here we go again," Sonic muttered, his azure eyes locking onto the mechanical horde that churned up dust and fear with each advancing moment.
Tangle, her prehensile tail coiled and ready, followed his gaze to the centerpiece of the assault—a hulking Motobug tank, its multiple cannons gleaming with lethal intent.
"That's new," she said, her voice a mix of awe and concern. "Are... are you guys just the advance guard for the Resistance?" Tangle's question came out in a rush, her usual bravado faltering at the sight of encroaching Badniks.
Sonic's emerald eyes narrowed, a spark of determination igniting within them as he scanned the encroaching swarm. "The Resistance is probably knee-deep in their own batch of trouble," he stated flatly, his voice laced with a calm that belied the chaos unfurling around them. "We're on our own."
Beside him, Jamison adjusted his grip on his weapon, his stance firm and unyielding amidst the metallic tide threatening to engulf them. "I'm not with the Resistance," he declared, the words punctuated by the cold glint in his eyes.
Sonic shot her a quick glance, noting the tension in her posture. "Just us," he said with a reassuring half-grin, despite the gravity of the situation. "But don't worry, we've got this!"
From the corner of his eye, he caught a glint of metal, not from the invading force, but from Jamison's rifle as the seasoned fighter took aim. Sonic tensed, knowing the odds and the risk of taking on such a massive target head-on.
The crack of the gunshot shattered the tense air, a lone sound that seemed to hang for a heartbeat too long. Time itself stretched thin as Sonic's reflexes kicked into overdrive. His world narrowed to the bullet's path, a silver streak cutting through the dimming light, slipping silently into the cavernous barrel of the Motobug tank.
In that split-second eternity, he saw the bullet's journey end as it struck something in the tank's internal magazine—a spark igniting a chain reaction unseen by any other eye. Sonic knew what was to come, and yet, he couldn't help but marvel at the precision of Jamison's marksmanship, a single shot poised to unleash chaos upon the machine's own ranks.
A thunderous boom erupted as the tank's innards became a firestorm. Sonic, in a blue blur of motion, grabbed Tangle by the waist and propelled them both into a diving roll. Debris rained down, and the ground trembled under the shockwave of the explosion. The air reeked of scorched metal, and the shrieks of malfunctioning Badniks filled their ears.
"Nice one, Jamison!" Sonic called out, not missing a beat as he sprang to his feet, dragging Tangle up with him. They had barely escaped the wrathful blast radius, but they weren't in the clear yet. Through the haze of destruction, he could see twisted heaps of Badniks strewn across the battlefield—Jamison's shot had worked better than any of them could have anticipated.
That would've been impressive enough. Then he saw the rising shadow…
Sonic glanced up, his eyes widening in disbelief. The tank turret, now a rogue projectile, soared skyward with an improbable force, ascending like a rocket. An almost cartoonish sense of physics played out before them as it streaked upward like a flaming firework.
"Look out above!" Sonic shouted, pointing at the rogue turret. Every eye followed its trajectory, tracing a path straight towards the mechanical menace in the sky—the Buzz Bomber.
The impact was spectacular. Metal met metal in a cacophony of tearing and crunching. The wings of the Buzz Bomber crumpled upon contact, sending it spiraling downward. Its engines sputtered and smoke billowed, a giant brought down by an unlikely slingshot.
"Talk about taking out two birds with one stone," Sonic quipped, unable to resist the pun. He flashed a smirk at Tangle, who stood beside him, her prehensile tail swaying with a mix of adrenaline and relief.
"Or one buzz with a turret," she retorted, a playful glint in her eye despite the danger they were still in.
Sonic nodded appreciatively at her wit.
A cyclone of fire spiraled from nowhere, its flames licking the sky with ravenous tongues. The inferno enveloped the nearest Egg Pawns, their metal casings melting like wax under the intense blaze. Their electronic cries were snuffed out as quickly as they rose, leaving behind only the scent of charred circuitry and the sizzling echoes of their destruction.
Someone stood in it, an island of calm within the storm, her silhouette rimmed with the dance of flickering embers. Poised and regal, she stood unharmed by the flames that seemed almost to bow to her command. The heat around her shimmered like a mirage, framing her silhouette in a halo of dancing light. Purple fur and pressed coat, came…
"Blaze!" Sonic's feet barely touched the scorched earth as he dashed towards Blaze, his arms outstretched in a welcoming gesture. His enthusiasm was palpable, an electric current that seemed to charge the very air between them. "Blaze! You're a sight for sore eyes!" he exclaimed, skidding to a halt just inches from her.
The feline warrior's golden eyes flickered with recognition and a hint of amusement at Sonic's exuberance. "Sonic," she nodded, her voice steady yet warm, "I trust these were Eggman's doing?" The echoes of her fiery entrance still danced in the embers around them, casting a glow on her determined face.
"Hit the nail on the head," Sonic affirmed with a nod, his quills twitching with the urgency of the moment. "This town is under siege, and we could really use your help. Think you can lend us a claw?"
Without hesitation, the princess's stance shifted, the flames that had been at rest flaring up once more in anticipation of the battle ahead. "Of course," she replied, the light of conviction in her eyes burning bright. "It would be my pleasure to assist."