Miles the Cy-Fox
August 31st, 2007, 06:11 AM
Prologue
He was a cop. A good cop. At least that's what Miles "Tails" Prower told himself as he stared into the darkness outside his small, prefab home. From this distance, the deserted suburban streets seemed safe, but Tails knew better. Beneath the silence, behind the shadows, things were ready to explode. Still, he took the transfer like the good cop that he was. He sudden remembered his father and instinctively took a step back from the window. His father, had been killed that way, looking out a window. Back when Station Square first started to slip.
Maybe it started when the feds had cut off loans and were urging cities on Mobius to fend for themselves, seventeen years ago. The problem was that most of the major cities on the planet dominated by the anthromorphic furries were strapped tighter than a snare drum. Station Square, like its sister city on Earth, Detroit, snapped. Social programs were whittled to nothing. The poor didn't understand that. They took to the street to vent their anger. Prower's family had lived in what was known as Old Station Square which started out as a village called West Island, back then. There had been families there back then, who had clung to their hopes and dreams all their lives. Prower's father had been in the wrong place at the wrong time. Sniper. Bang. Hiss. The tinkling of shattered glass. That was the end of Amadeus Alexander Miles Prower.
Dying, his father seemed almost amazed and amused by it all. He had moved to West Station Square to make a fortune working in the airplane factories after years dragging it out in the Knothole Conflict as a tightly wound lieutenant in the Royal Army. Then the aircraft industry went under and the elder Prower wound up working for the new Earth company in town, Omni Consumer Products. Grunt work. But the insurance had paid for the funeral. Nice, ornate coffin. Prerequisite flowers with the machine-copied signatures of faceless executive cronies. His father had stared up into his startled 8 year old son's eyes and whispered "Son of a bitch." He had shrugged, smiled and died.
Tails sighed. OCP had turned out to be Station Square's savior of sorts. New housing projects. New jobs. When the city found itself bankrupt, unable to even pay the cops less than six years ago, OCP marched in and simply privatized the struggling police force. They now paid the police. And the fire department followed shortly after, and then the sanitation crew. The pay was hardly shit but hell, at least they paid you on time. Prower heard gunshots behind him. Instinctively, he whirled around. Spotting the source, he relaxed. Five-year old Kyle Reese Prower was sprawled in front of the TV, watching reruns of an old 2000 cop show, T.J Lazer. It was his favorite. Tails tried not to smirk as the human cop on the tube gunned down half a dozen thugs, twirled his guns and replaced them in his holsters. The pot bellied Lazer with his William Shatner toupee would have been dead meat (or fur) in the troubled Station Square districts in five seconds. The scene that Tails was heading into tomorrow.
Tails felt his stomach tighten slightly. He was tense, but he'd be damned if he'd let it show in front of his family. It was bad enough that he brought the nightmares home, the images of screaming faces, battered cars and streams of blood and tears. He wasn't going to show weakness or worry in front of his blue-furred kit or his deep orange furred wife, Dawn. He glanced at the window, and saw his own reflection in the twitching light of the TV. He jumped, for that one second the face he saw was the face of his father. He had the same styled white muzzle, and deep blue eyes, then thin lips, eager to smile but not knowing how to relax that much anymore. He forced himself to laugh at his own uneasiness. Twenty-five years old and he was turning into a wiener. He nearly laughed out loud. Welcome to the Wiener Club, Miles.
Dawn walked into the room. "Dinner will be ready in a minute." she said. Their eyes met. She knew how jumpy he felt. They'd been together since high school and developed a friendship that blossomed into love. Tails forced himself to smile at his modestly stunning wife and rubbed his stomach. "Great babe..I could eat a horse." Dawn smiled in return. "I'm sure you could. Will pot roast do?" Miles nodded. "I suppose I can force myself." He stared at his son, still watching the tube. Kyle laughed. "I can if Dad can."
Dawn walked out towards the kitchen. "A couple of wiseguys." Miles watched Kyle get up and Tails' own gaze locked onto the TV as it switched programs. A tall man in a suit of armor holding a very big machine pistol was wading through the troubled streets of Detroit. RoboCop. Now that was reality TV. He stared at the screen and shuddered. Robo had it easy, being bulletproof and armed to the teeth.
But Prower didn't. That was for damned sure.
Chapter 1
West Station Square
10:09 PM
A full moon shone down on Station Square, giving it a dead, eerie glow. Four monolithic skyscrapers towered above in Central Station Square, the future gazing down with disdain upon the last crumbling remnants of the past. Most of the city was long asleep, but in Station Square, there was a feral street life at all hours. Officers Vector and Espio guided their Ford TurboCruiser down a deserted street. They were rehashed 2000 Ford Taurus police cruisers that were souped up with bubble-gum and coat hanger tricks by the mechanical minded bored desk cops forced to sit back because of some injury or other problem. Two blocks ahead of Vector and Espio, another 'Cruiser hummed. Vector and Espio were watching the back door tonight. They didn't mind, it was monotonous work but in this sector, monotony was welcome.
They watched the stubby 'Cruiser ahead of them disappear down another corner. The cars weren't much to look at but they kicked the hell out of the streets, their Taurus engines sounding like banshees screaming when they were revved. The alligator and the chameleon furry cops allowed themselves to be lulled into a sense of security. Above them, slowly flickering spotlights casually reflected off buildings and badly maintained storefronts. A garish, tattered billboard caught Espio's eye. It was an old OCP one promising a lot of great benefits for humans to colonize Mobius. Now even space travel was old hat.
Vector glanced at the small computer mounted on the dashboard as he drove. Readouts, more readouts. He twisted his large scaly body in the seat in a vain effort to get comfortable. His tail was curled in an awkward position, because of the uniform, which was a literal pain in the ass. Padded armor suits, high impact plastic crash helmets with plastiglass faceshields. He tried to find a position that would put a little less pressure on his already coffee-tortured bladder. Fat chance of that bud. He sank into his seat and just pissed the night away. Literally.
Vector and Espio took the corner easily. The lead car was once again in view. Far ahead of the first car, a shadow glided across the street. Espio tensed. Gut reaction. He wondered whether Charmy and his human partner Alcott, caught it. He then began to muse about the last guy of the Chaotix Cops, Mighty. The armadillo had cracked with what the Station Square cops called Blue-Quill Syndrome, after what happened to former Station Square police sergeant Sonic the Hedgehog. Sonic was an easy going cop, a big hero back when Dr.Ivo "Eggman" Robotnik, was trying to knock everything down and put Mobius deeper in the shit. But the stress caught up to the then 21 year old hedgehog and Sonic cracked worse than an egg. He had switched sides, becoming chummy with the 'Square's biggest cocaine Realtor, Shadow. Shadow as another hedgehog, black as night with various red splotches pockmarking his fur. The last thing they knew, Mighty had even joined Sonic's camp.
The radio of their cruiser squawked to life. Someone at the ComLink dispatch center had spotted the blip on the radar as well. "Got a rabbit running East on Hoover Street. Check it out Unit 216." The lead car sputtered a reply.
"Roger, chickenshit sir, over." A laugh and a buzz. That would be Charmy. He worked very hard at taking very little seriously. "Relax pal..." Charmy says, the bee-furry directing that to Vector and Espio. "We got you guys on the grid." Vector relaxed somewhat. The runner ahead of the lead car was beeping steadily on the computerized map of the area. The lead car increased its speed and pulled around another corner out of sight. A glowing blue ball with several gray others on the second car's dashboard indicated the guys out there. From the map, Espio could see that the point cruiser was getting nearer to the prey.
Just routine stuff, probably winos. Still, they were pretty lively for drunks. Vector took the ComLink microphone from the dash. "See anything Alcott?" From the point car, Alcott's voice spoke out. "Looks like a woman, man. A chameleon." The African-American let a small snort escape into the airwaves. Espio stared ahead, flashing Vector a bemused look. They heard laughter from the first car.
"Jesus Charmy, pinch me. Am I crazy or is she stark raving naked?" Alcott continued. Charmy feigned shock. "She's holding a sign.." he buzzed, "It says free blow jobs." Vector and Espio smirked at each other, recognizing the old joke. Alcott boomed over the radio. "Oh my god Espio...it's...it's YOUR WIFE!" Vector eased off the gas. Wiseasses. He could hear them laughing hysterically over the radio. Then, a stifled noise emerged from his left. Abruptly, the laughter stopped. A hoarse cry blurted forth from the radio. Espio leaned forward and whacked the ComLink. Nothing but static.
On the Hunter map, the red dot that was the lead TurboCruiser suddenly burst. Espio snorted. "shit." The purple chameleon furry closed his eyes for a second. Vector slammed on the gas, whizzing down the corner Unit 216 took. He was tired of this war on the streets routine. He slammed on the brakes and gazed at the street before him. Espio unsnapped the riot shotgun from the dash without thinking, trying to control the nausea bubbling within him. Not ten feet before them was the twisted burning remains of the Ford. The bodies of Charmy and Alcott were sprawled on their streets. Charmy was literally splattered, and Alcott was positioned awkwardly like a rag doll. An ominous cloud of black, putrid smoke erupted from the shattered engine.
Vector fought to keep control. He barked into the ComLink, "Officers down. Unit 217 requests backup and Medivac." The reply came in a hail of static, and was short and to the point. "Unit 217. All available units presently engaged. Proceed as PCU. MediVac request acknowledged." Espio pounded his fist on the dash. "Great...Clint Eastwood time." He eased the passenger door open. "Come on.." he snarled. "I'll..cover you." Vector and Espio slowly opened their doors and slammed them shut. Whoever blew up the 'Cruiser in front of them, was a group of hardcore nutcases. Whoever it was, was probably out there, watching them now. Espio stood before the car, turning in slow circles. The mounted flashlight on the shotgun he held sent a small circle of light playing across the abandoned buildings. While he cased the area, Vector approached the burning cruiser, his faceshield down.
He gazed at the splattered yellow, black and blue mess that was Espio. Charmy the Bee, Chaotix Cop #3, age 21, on the force for one year. Dead. Espio was still twitching, looking at Vector. "How's Alcott?" Vector moved towards him. "Good as dead." He bent over the shuddering human. Barry Alcott was still alive, barely. His body was beginning to writhe and shake uncontrollably. Convulsive shock. Massive chest wound, christ, Vector could see the man's heart. Vector felt the tears well up into his eyes. Why these guys? Why on a routine patrol? He froze over the body, his anger building. Espio still twitched.
The chameleon moved the flashlight over the same spots over and over again. There seemed to be no one there. But he was still nervous. "C'mon man. Let's get the hell out of here!" he hissed. Then came a faint click. Espio whirled around and was slammed to the ground by a blue blur. He dropped his shotgun, and tried to pick it up and made a mental note to yell at Vector. It was his last real thought. A five shotgun barrage of 00 buckshot blasted his head off. The roar of the shotgun was brief and deadly. Vector turned around and began to shake. His last and best buddy had just bought it. He fired at the blue blur, but missed. It was too fast. And it was too goddamned dark. He fired again and continued to shake. The blue blur....
It came at him this time, and this time it just simply knocked him over. Vector raised a gloved hand up, waiting for the shotgun. It didn't come. He blinked and was staring at a blue hedgehog, with emerald green eyes. The hedgehog was wearing a dirty black coat and various other clothes. The 'hog sniffed uncontrollably.
It was Sonic.
Other figures emerged from the shadows. Vector stared at them. A fox, an echinda, two humans and an armadillo that he recognized. It was Mighty and it was Sonic's crew alright. Mighty shook a spray can and bent over the bodies of Espio, Charmy and Alcott, spraying numbers on them with the Day-Glo. 29..30..31..
"How ya feelin'?" Sonic laughed. Vector snarled. "Sonic.." He reached for his dropped shotgun and Sonic laughed a dry wheeze. He then pressed his shotgun to Vector's outstretched arm, at the shoulder and fired. Vector's arm bounced off the pavement bloodily, resting near the shotgun. "Nah..I ain't going to let you get rid of me that easily. I need to pass a message on. And you're going to help me man." Sonic motioned for Mighty the Armadillo with a gray gloved hand. Mighty nodded and approached Vector. He sprayed a number over Vector's head.
32.
"Aw..shit.." Vector said. "Mighty..." His old buddy..was helping set him up for his death. How ironic. Sonic then took the Day-Glo and started to spray a complex pattern beside the crocodile. Vector turned his head, staring at the words Sonic wrote.
"This is a message to the pigs. Station Square is my city."
Vector turned his head to stare up at Sonic, who was standing up. The short hedgehog laughed. He raised his shotgun and Vector's pupils tightened up. Sonic laughed again. "Bang!" he crowed. The shotgun boomed and the buckshot shredded Vector's head.
Darkness.
He was a cop. A good cop. At least that's what Miles "Tails" Prower told himself as he stared into the darkness outside his small, prefab home. From this distance, the deserted suburban streets seemed safe, but Tails knew better. Beneath the silence, behind the shadows, things were ready to explode. Still, he took the transfer like the good cop that he was. He sudden remembered his father and instinctively took a step back from the window. His father, had been killed that way, looking out a window. Back when Station Square first started to slip.
Maybe it started when the feds had cut off loans and were urging cities on Mobius to fend for themselves, seventeen years ago. The problem was that most of the major cities on the planet dominated by the anthromorphic furries were strapped tighter than a snare drum. Station Square, like its sister city on Earth, Detroit, snapped. Social programs were whittled to nothing. The poor didn't understand that. They took to the street to vent their anger. Prower's family had lived in what was known as Old Station Square which started out as a village called West Island, back then. There had been families there back then, who had clung to their hopes and dreams all their lives. Prower's father had been in the wrong place at the wrong time. Sniper. Bang. Hiss. The tinkling of shattered glass. That was the end of Amadeus Alexander Miles Prower.
Dying, his father seemed almost amazed and amused by it all. He had moved to West Station Square to make a fortune working in the airplane factories after years dragging it out in the Knothole Conflict as a tightly wound lieutenant in the Royal Army. Then the aircraft industry went under and the elder Prower wound up working for the new Earth company in town, Omni Consumer Products. Grunt work. But the insurance had paid for the funeral. Nice, ornate coffin. Prerequisite flowers with the machine-copied signatures of faceless executive cronies. His father had stared up into his startled 8 year old son's eyes and whispered "Son of a bitch." He had shrugged, smiled and died.
Tails sighed. OCP had turned out to be Station Square's savior of sorts. New housing projects. New jobs. When the city found itself bankrupt, unable to even pay the cops less than six years ago, OCP marched in and simply privatized the struggling police force. They now paid the police. And the fire department followed shortly after, and then the sanitation crew. The pay was hardly shit but hell, at least they paid you on time. Prower heard gunshots behind him. Instinctively, he whirled around. Spotting the source, he relaxed. Five-year old Kyle Reese Prower was sprawled in front of the TV, watching reruns of an old 2000 cop show, T.J Lazer. It was his favorite. Tails tried not to smirk as the human cop on the tube gunned down half a dozen thugs, twirled his guns and replaced them in his holsters. The pot bellied Lazer with his William Shatner toupee would have been dead meat (or fur) in the troubled Station Square districts in five seconds. The scene that Tails was heading into tomorrow.
Tails felt his stomach tighten slightly. He was tense, but he'd be damned if he'd let it show in front of his family. It was bad enough that he brought the nightmares home, the images of screaming faces, battered cars and streams of blood and tears. He wasn't going to show weakness or worry in front of his blue-furred kit or his deep orange furred wife, Dawn. He glanced at the window, and saw his own reflection in the twitching light of the TV. He jumped, for that one second the face he saw was the face of his father. He had the same styled white muzzle, and deep blue eyes, then thin lips, eager to smile but not knowing how to relax that much anymore. He forced himself to laugh at his own uneasiness. Twenty-five years old and he was turning into a wiener. He nearly laughed out loud. Welcome to the Wiener Club, Miles.
Dawn walked into the room. "Dinner will be ready in a minute." she said. Their eyes met. She knew how jumpy he felt. They'd been together since high school and developed a friendship that blossomed into love. Tails forced himself to smile at his modestly stunning wife and rubbed his stomach. "Great babe..I could eat a horse." Dawn smiled in return. "I'm sure you could. Will pot roast do?" Miles nodded. "I suppose I can force myself." He stared at his son, still watching the tube. Kyle laughed. "I can if Dad can."
Dawn walked out towards the kitchen. "A couple of wiseguys." Miles watched Kyle get up and Tails' own gaze locked onto the TV as it switched programs. A tall man in a suit of armor holding a very big machine pistol was wading through the troubled streets of Detroit. RoboCop. Now that was reality TV. He stared at the screen and shuddered. Robo had it easy, being bulletproof and armed to the teeth.
But Prower didn't. That was for damned sure.
Chapter 1
West Station Square
10:09 PM
A full moon shone down on Station Square, giving it a dead, eerie glow. Four monolithic skyscrapers towered above in Central Station Square, the future gazing down with disdain upon the last crumbling remnants of the past. Most of the city was long asleep, but in Station Square, there was a feral street life at all hours. Officers Vector and Espio guided their Ford TurboCruiser down a deserted street. They were rehashed 2000 Ford Taurus police cruisers that were souped up with bubble-gum and coat hanger tricks by the mechanical minded bored desk cops forced to sit back because of some injury or other problem. Two blocks ahead of Vector and Espio, another 'Cruiser hummed. Vector and Espio were watching the back door tonight. They didn't mind, it was monotonous work but in this sector, monotony was welcome.
They watched the stubby 'Cruiser ahead of them disappear down another corner. The cars weren't much to look at but they kicked the hell out of the streets, their Taurus engines sounding like banshees screaming when they were revved. The alligator and the chameleon furry cops allowed themselves to be lulled into a sense of security. Above them, slowly flickering spotlights casually reflected off buildings and badly maintained storefronts. A garish, tattered billboard caught Espio's eye. It was an old OCP one promising a lot of great benefits for humans to colonize Mobius. Now even space travel was old hat.
Vector glanced at the small computer mounted on the dashboard as he drove. Readouts, more readouts. He twisted his large scaly body in the seat in a vain effort to get comfortable. His tail was curled in an awkward position, because of the uniform, which was a literal pain in the ass. Padded armor suits, high impact plastic crash helmets with plastiglass faceshields. He tried to find a position that would put a little less pressure on his already coffee-tortured bladder. Fat chance of that bud. He sank into his seat and just pissed the night away. Literally.
Vector and Espio took the corner easily. The lead car was once again in view. Far ahead of the first car, a shadow glided across the street. Espio tensed. Gut reaction. He wondered whether Charmy and his human partner Alcott, caught it. He then began to muse about the last guy of the Chaotix Cops, Mighty. The armadillo had cracked with what the Station Square cops called Blue-Quill Syndrome, after what happened to former Station Square police sergeant Sonic the Hedgehog. Sonic was an easy going cop, a big hero back when Dr.Ivo "Eggman" Robotnik, was trying to knock everything down and put Mobius deeper in the shit. But the stress caught up to the then 21 year old hedgehog and Sonic cracked worse than an egg. He had switched sides, becoming chummy with the 'Square's biggest cocaine Realtor, Shadow. Shadow as another hedgehog, black as night with various red splotches pockmarking his fur. The last thing they knew, Mighty had even joined Sonic's camp.
The radio of their cruiser squawked to life. Someone at the ComLink dispatch center had spotted the blip on the radar as well. "Got a rabbit running East on Hoover Street. Check it out Unit 216." The lead car sputtered a reply.
"Roger, chickenshit sir, over." A laugh and a buzz. That would be Charmy. He worked very hard at taking very little seriously. "Relax pal..." Charmy says, the bee-furry directing that to Vector and Espio. "We got you guys on the grid." Vector relaxed somewhat. The runner ahead of the lead car was beeping steadily on the computerized map of the area. The lead car increased its speed and pulled around another corner out of sight. A glowing blue ball with several gray others on the second car's dashboard indicated the guys out there. From the map, Espio could see that the point cruiser was getting nearer to the prey.
Just routine stuff, probably winos. Still, they were pretty lively for drunks. Vector took the ComLink microphone from the dash. "See anything Alcott?" From the point car, Alcott's voice spoke out. "Looks like a woman, man. A chameleon." The African-American let a small snort escape into the airwaves. Espio stared ahead, flashing Vector a bemused look. They heard laughter from the first car.
"Jesus Charmy, pinch me. Am I crazy or is she stark raving naked?" Alcott continued. Charmy feigned shock. "She's holding a sign.." he buzzed, "It says free blow jobs." Vector and Espio smirked at each other, recognizing the old joke. Alcott boomed over the radio. "Oh my god Espio...it's...it's YOUR WIFE!" Vector eased off the gas. Wiseasses. He could hear them laughing hysterically over the radio. Then, a stifled noise emerged from his left. Abruptly, the laughter stopped. A hoarse cry blurted forth from the radio. Espio leaned forward and whacked the ComLink. Nothing but static.
On the Hunter map, the red dot that was the lead TurboCruiser suddenly burst. Espio snorted. "shit." The purple chameleon furry closed his eyes for a second. Vector slammed on the gas, whizzing down the corner Unit 216 took. He was tired of this war on the streets routine. He slammed on the brakes and gazed at the street before him. Espio unsnapped the riot shotgun from the dash without thinking, trying to control the nausea bubbling within him. Not ten feet before them was the twisted burning remains of the Ford. The bodies of Charmy and Alcott were sprawled on their streets. Charmy was literally splattered, and Alcott was positioned awkwardly like a rag doll. An ominous cloud of black, putrid smoke erupted from the shattered engine.
Vector fought to keep control. He barked into the ComLink, "Officers down. Unit 217 requests backup and Medivac." The reply came in a hail of static, and was short and to the point. "Unit 217. All available units presently engaged. Proceed as PCU. MediVac request acknowledged." Espio pounded his fist on the dash. "Great...Clint Eastwood time." He eased the passenger door open. "Come on.." he snarled. "I'll..cover you." Vector and Espio slowly opened their doors and slammed them shut. Whoever blew up the 'Cruiser in front of them, was a group of hardcore nutcases. Whoever it was, was probably out there, watching them now. Espio stood before the car, turning in slow circles. The mounted flashlight on the shotgun he held sent a small circle of light playing across the abandoned buildings. While he cased the area, Vector approached the burning cruiser, his faceshield down.
He gazed at the splattered yellow, black and blue mess that was Espio. Charmy the Bee, Chaotix Cop #3, age 21, on the force for one year. Dead. Espio was still twitching, looking at Vector. "How's Alcott?" Vector moved towards him. "Good as dead." He bent over the shuddering human. Barry Alcott was still alive, barely. His body was beginning to writhe and shake uncontrollably. Convulsive shock. Massive chest wound, christ, Vector could see the man's heart. Vector felt the tears well up into his eyes. Why these guys? Why on a routine patrol? He froze over the body, his anger building. Espio still twitched.
The chameleon moved the flashlight over the same spots over and over again. There seemed to be no one there. But he was still nervous. "C'mon man. Let's get the hell out of here!" he hissed. Then came a faint click. Espio whirled around and was slammed to the ground by a blue blur. He dropped his shotgun, and tried to pick it up and made a mental note to yell at Vector. It was his last real thought. A five shotgun barrage of 00 buckshot blasted his head off. The roar of the shotgun was brief and deadly. Vector turned around and began to shake. His last and best buddy had just bought it. He fired at the blue blur, but missed. It was too fast. And it was too goddamned dark. He fired again and continued to shake. The blue blur....
It came at him this time, and this time it just simply knocked him over. Vector raised a gloved hand up, waiting for the shotgun. It didn't come. He blinked and was staring at a blue hedgehog, with emerald green eyes. The hedgehog was wearing a dirty black coat and various other clothes. The 'hog sniffed uncontrollably.
It was Sonic.
Other figures emerged from the shadows. Vector stared at them. A fox, an echinda, two humans and an armadillo that he recognized. It was Mighty and it was Sonic's crew alright. Mighty shook a spray can and bent over the bodies of Espio, Charmy and Alcott, spraying numbers on them with the Day-Glo. 29..30..31..
"How ya feelin'?" Sonic laughed. Vector snarled. "Sonic.." He reached for his dropped shotgun and Sonic laughed a dry wheeze. He then pressed his shotgun to Vector's outstretched arm, at the shoulder and fired. Vector's arm bounced off the pavement bloodily, resting near the shotgun. "Nah..I ain't going to let you get rid of me that easily. I need to pass a message on. And you're going to help me man." Sonic motioned for Mighty the Armadillo with a gray gloved hand. Mighty nodded and approached Vector. He sprayed a number over Vector's head.
32.
"Aw..shit.." Vector said. "Mighty..." His old buddy..was helping set him up for his death. How ironic. Sonic then took the Day-Glo and started to spray a complex pattern beside the crocodile. Vector turned his head, staring at the words Sonic wrote.
"This is a message to the pigs. Station Square is my city."
Vector turned his head to stare up at Sonic, who was standing up. The short hedgehog laughed. He raised his shotgun and Vector's pupils tightened up. Sonic laughed again. "Bang!" he crowed. The shotgun boomed and the buckshot shredded Vector's head.
Darkness.