#Suppression Squad

[chauvel]

[vendettaspathfanfic]

Chapter Seven

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Toxic was overcome with an exhilaration unlike anything she had ever experienced before. For the past few days, she and the rest of the Destructix had been meticulously organizing and strategizing for the upcoming bank robbery. Her brother had assured her that the heist would not only yield substantial rewards for the gang, but also bring them closer to their ultimate goal of claiming the castle as their own.

Furthermore, she had already tasted the thrill of danger when she found herself being pursued by the police, and had even taken the life of Boomer Walrus. Like Scourge, she found herself drawn to the adrenaline rush that came with living beyond the boundaries of the law, and it was a temptation she simply couldn't resist.

And now, the sun had long dipped below the polluted horizon and the bank had closed its doors to the public. Everyone except for Scourge and Fiona gathered in the dimly lit front lobby of their musty hideout, waiting as the latter was making some last-minute modifications to a newly acquired, illicitly-gained SUV that would be serving as their getaway vehicle.

"When do we go?" Toxic asked impatiently, the frustration transparent in her tone as she slouched her shoulders forward in an exaggerated, childlike display of boredom.

"As your brother mentioned," Predator responded brusquely, "we'll leave once Fiona finishes with the car."

"And where's Scourge?" Lightning interjected, displaying his impatience, albeit in a more composed manner compared to their youngest companion.

"He's checking on Miles," Predator replied, the ghost of a smile flickering across his face as he observed Lightning's restlessness. "The wait will be worth it."

Reluctantly, Lightning released a soft sigh and nodded, conceding with a muttered acknowledgment of "you're right," his gaze drifting downward and away from Predator.

"That's hardly a revelation," Predator remarked confidently, his arms folded across his chest as he stared ahead.

"Shut up," Lightning retorted with a growl, attempting to maintain a facade of annoyance even as his mouth twitched in a battle against a burgeoning grin.

"We'll be ready soon, Toxic little girl!" Flying exclaimed, bounding off the remnants of the front desk in the lobby where he had been perched. He landed with a solid thud in a crouched position before Toxic, meeting her at eye level. "And then we'll have a grand ole time-rhyme-mime!"

A proud smile spread across Toxic's face as she declared, "I'm gonna shoot someone again," placing her clenched fists on her hips.

"Well, they've got bots instead of guards, so you'll just be shooting them if necessary," Lightning chimed in, leaning casually against the wall as he recounted a detail from his earlier reconnaissance mission at the bank to assess the security system.

"Unless the cops show up-cup-pup!" Flying interjected, wagging his finger playfully while his grin widened at the prospect of taking the lives of law enforcement.

Toxic nibbled on her healing lower lip, revealing a gap-toothed grin. "I wanna shoot them too," she mused before approaching Simon, who carried their arsenal of weapons in an ammo belt slung across his torso. She looked up at him and gently tugged on his pant leg, prompting him to shift his gaze toward her.

"What is it?" Simon asked.

"Can I have my gun?" she asked, extending her arm towards his towering figure, her hand outstretched in anticipation.

"Not yet. I'll give it to you when it’s time," Simon replied, his gaze returning to the front as he patiently awaited the gang's leaders.

"Can I just practice more though?" Toxic persisted, maintaining her stance as she tried to negotiate for access to her designated pistol.

"Nope. We have to be conservative with ammo at the moment," Simon insisted, crossing his arms firmly as he kept his gaze fixed ahead.

"That's balls," Toxic grumbled, dropping her arm and crossing it tightly with the other.

"Okay," Simon acknowledged with a nonchalant hum, his shoulders giving a subtle twitch in a barely noticeable shrug.

Scourge soon made his entrance into the dimly lit lobby, his silhouette accentuated by the warm glow emanating from the lantern he carried. With a smirk and, he lowly chuckled “whining bitch,” as he placed the lantern on a weathered end table, joining the ensemble of lights that provided just enough illumination for the gang to make out each other's faces in the dark, dank setting.

"How's our guest, green boss?" queried Flying with a curious tilt of his head.

"He's been trapped in that room going on three days now, and trust me, we're far from rolling out the red carpet for him. He's faring just as you'd picture," Scourge growled with annoyance while he fidgeted with the jacket that seemed to hang loosely on his lithe form.

"I see-hee-hee!" Flying snickered with sinister glee, his hands coming together in anticipation as he imagined the undoubtedly run-down condition of their captive, Miles.

"Fiona's wrapping up her work. I'll go see how she's doing," declared Scourge, striding towards the shadowy alley nestled next to the orphanage. It was a secluded spot where they currently kept their vehicles out of sight. As he arrived, he noticed Fiona, intent on her task under the SUV's hood, her face hidden from view by its bulk.

"How's it going, Fi?" he called out, a grin spreading across his face as he took in the sight of her, somehow still striking even with streaks of filth marking her from the day's labor.

"Just tying up the last few loose ends," she answered without looking up, her hands deftly making the final tweaks to the engine. With a satisfied nod, she packed away her tools and lowered the hood with a solid thud. "We should give it a test drive. Care to do the honors?"

"Yeah, I'm up for it," Scourge replied nonchalantly, his shoulders lifting in an easy shrug.

"Perfect. Just a quick ride down to the end of the street and back should do. I can tell you're all itching to go soon," she said, a touch of empathy in her voice as she prepared to gauge the readiness of their escape vehicle.

"Don't you know it," Scourge chuckled, the sound low and soft, as he accepted the keys she offered him and slid into the driver's seat. With a turn of the key, the engine roared to life, and he took off for the brief trial run. The vehicle performed flawlessly, and with a satisfied nod, he returned to park it right in front of the building, stepping out to greet Fiona who walked up to him with a victorious air.

"Smooth as butter," she proclaimed, her arms lifted triumphantly.

"That’s my girl," Scourge praised, wrapping an arm around her waist to pull her into a close embrace, their bodies pressed together in a moment of affection.

"Well," Fiona began, her fingers delicately holding Scourge's chin, elevating his gaze to hers, "it looks like we're ready to roll."

With a broad smile, Scourge reveled not only in the thrill of the impending heist but also in the woman before him – Fiona, the undeniable queenpin of their outfit and, more significantly, his own heart. Drawn in by the moment, their lips met in a soft collision that momentarily swept away thoughts of their upcoming illicit endeavor.

The Destructix, however, did not forget about anything. The expectant gang emerged from the building,

Their intimate interlude was shattered by a piercing, high-pitched "HEY!" that sliced through the air, accompanied by the sharp clap of hands.

"I will break you, you little shi-" Scourge snarled, his moment with Fiona abruptly interrupted, glaring at his sister in disdain.

"Are we ready to get moving?" Toxic interrupted, her impatience evident in her crossed arms and the rhythmic tapping of her foot.

"Mhm," Fiona replied, rolling her eyes at Toxic's insolence. She then turned her attention to the task at hand, announcing, "Everybody, gear up," as she popped open the trunk and began to distribute the nondescript black hoodies and balaclavas to the group.

"How long is the drive again?" Lightning asked, pulling the hoodie over his head.

"We should make it in about thirty minutes," Fiona answered, as she too donned the garment. "Simon, do you have all the equipment ready?"

“Yes ma’am.” Simion replied with an obedient nod, carefully placing a large, loaded duffle bag into the trunk.

Fiona responded with an enthusiastic agreement, enthusiastically thrusting both of her thumbs skyward as she declared, “Cool. Everyone in.”

Upon her cue, her and the rest of the Destructix clambered into the spacious interior of the SUV, a sense of tense excitement hanging in the air. Fiona ignited the engine and embarked on their route towards the bank.

“Alright, one more time let’s hear the plan.” Scourge commanded with authority, his blue eyes scanning the motley crew of accomplices from the vehicle's passenger seat.

With precision, Lightning began to recite his role in the upcoming heist, “I disarm an external security camera by the vent which I’ll crawl through and search for the security room. Once there, I’ll take the flash drive Fiona got and plug it into the main computer. The virus within it will shut the system down completely.”

“Right, then what?” Scourge prodded, his voice laced with anticipation for the next steps.

“I’ll break open the door then guard the car.” Simon chimed in succinctly, underscoring his commitment to the task at hand.

“Can Simon come with us?” Toxic interjected, her eyes wide and hopeful as she cast a beseeching look in Simon’s direction.

“Shut up,” Scourge spat out sharply, his patience wearing thin with his sister’s shenanigans.

“But I-“ Toxic began to protest, her lips parting in objection, only to be met with crossed arms and a resolved stance.

“The answer’s no,” Simon articulated firmly, as the little blue hedgehog sitting beside him grumbled under her breath, her arms folding defiantly while her expression soured by the sting of rejection.

“Go on,” Fiona encouraged, her tone now edged with impatience.

“I run in and find the vault,” Scourge succinctly stated his part of the plan, his confidence unwavering.

“Right,” Fiona acknowledged, her hands deftly maneuvering the steering wheel as she executed a sharp turn.

“We go where Scourge tells us the vault is and start loading the bags.” Predator elaborated, nodding toward the trunk where a stack of empty duffel bags awaited their bounty.

“Then after we’re rich-stitch-bitch, we haul the fuck out before the piggly-wigglies come after us!” Flying exclaimed with his typical raucous enthusiasm, his fist punching the air triumphantly.

“Damn right boys,” Fiona concurred, her lips curling into a predatory smirk of anticipation. The vehicle accelerated, leaving behind the city limits sign that marked their departure from Moebotropilis, as they steered closer to their plunder.

“My mouth hurts…” Toxic complained with a pained expression, her fingers unconsciously gravitating towards the scab forming on her healing lip.

“Then why are you picking at it?” Predator grumbled with a touch of exasperation, shooting a disapproving glance at Toxic.

“Stop picking at it, Toxic. It won't heal if you do,” Fiona scolded firmly, her gaze piercing through the rearview mirror to meet Toxic's eyes.

“I’m not picking at it…” Toxic protested weakly, her fingers betraying her as they continued their ministrations.

“I see you doing it. Knock it off,” Fiona admonished, her voice carrying a note of frustration as she shifted her focus momentarily to berate a sluggish driver ahead, “move it, dumbass!”

“Put your mask on, Toxic,” Simon interjected, hoping this would redirect Toxic's attention away from her lip.

“Okay,” Toxic responded eagerly, a spark of excitement evident in her eyes as she grasped the small balaclava and attempted to pull it over her head. However, her initial enthusiasm was met with a minor setback as she struggled to align the mask correctly, inadvertently covering her eyes instead of the intended eye holes.

“Hang on,” Simon sighed heavily, reaching over to adjust the mask to its proper position on Toxic's head.

“Does it look cool?” Toxic inquired with anticipation, her wide eyes shining with a mix of innocence and eagerness as her tail wagged in anticipation.

“Sure,” Simon replied casually, offering a nonchalant shrug in response to her query.

“Good,” Toxic chimed in happily, a giggle bubbling forth as she embraced the thrill of her first heist.

As the journey progressed with an intermittent backdrop of silence occasionally punctuated by Toxic annoying Simon with various random questions, Lightning seized the opportunity to engage in a moment of meditation. The impending task ahead demanded unwavering focus and precision, necessitating a mental and physical clarity unencumbered by distractions. With a deliberate motion, he gently closed his eyes, honed in on the rhythm of his breath, and methodically purged his mind of extraneous thoughts.

Unbeknownst to Lightning, Predator's gaze had shifted towards him, silently studying his tranquil countenance with a mix of admiration and respect. The aura of serenity enveloping Lightning belied the intense focus he maintained, his unmoving form resembling that of a poised statue, save for the subtle rise and fall of his chest as he inhaled and exhaled with measured calmness.

In this moment of profound tranquility and disciplined resolve, Predator found a poignant reminder of Lightning's indispensable role within the ranks of the Destructix. The brief period during which Lightning had temporarily departed to rejoin the Raiju Clan had underscored not only the loss of a formidable ally in combat but also the absence of a cherished friend whose presence was deeply ingrained in the fabric of their collective identity.

"Thank god he came back…" Predator mused inwardly, the sentiment reverberating within him so profoundly that he resisted the urge to vocalize it.

To Predator, the Destructix remained incomplete in Lightning's absence, a sentiment that echoed the void within his own being that yearned to be filled by the camaraderie and companionship they had shared. Lightning was more than a comrade; he was Predator's first true friend, a bond that transcended the confines of their criminal endeavors and resonated on a personal level.

Abruptly jolted back to reality, Predator's reverie was shattered by Flying's boisterous intervention, as he seized Lightning's shoulder and vigorously shook him while emitting an incomprehensible stream of excited chatter, disrupting the moment with a frenetic energy that clashed with the prevailing stillness.

"Fuck, Flying!" Lightning hissed through gritted teeth, his body taut with barely restrained fury as he glared at him.

Flying, on the other hand, seemed to revel in the tension, a mischievous sparkle dancing in his eyes. He let out a playful giggle, the sound almost musical in its lightness. "We’re here, kitty kitty!" he taunted, his voice lilting as he turned his attention towards Predator with a sly grin. With an exaggerated waggle of his eyebrows, he mockingly inquired, "Could you tell we were here, tweety bird? You seemed a lil distracted!"

The color rose rapidly to Predator's cheeks, a deep blush betraying his embarrassment. He was caught with his eyes stuck on Lightning. It was an unusual lapse for him, one that seemed all the more peculiar because he hadn't intended to stare; his mind had simply wandered down a labyrinth of thought.

"Yes I could…” Predator murmured, his voice barely above a whisper as he tried to recover his composure. He hastily cleared his throat, finding himself momentarily unable to meet the eyes of his companions. An old nervous habit was resurfacing, one he had diligently worked to quell, and he silently chastised himself for allowing it to creep back in.

Scourge cut through the banter with a voice that brooked no argument. “Everyone put the masks on,” he directed, his tone firm and authoritative. There was no hesitation as the team promptly complied, each member pulling on their balaclavas to conceal their identities in the dark fabric.

Fiona, maneuvered the vehicle into a narrow alleyway several structures away from the bank. The engine hummed to a subdued halt. Turning in her seat, she fixed Lightning with a look that was both stern and encouraging. “You’re on, my man,” she said, giving him an affirming nod.

Responding with a terse nod of his own, Lightning's fingers found the button that activated the car's overhead window, pressing it to open up his pathway. He unclasped his seatbelt with a click and fluidly climbed through the opening. Standing atop the vehicle, he surveyed his surroundings before making his move. With the finesse of a true ninja, he leaped onto a nearby fire escape, his movements swift and silent as he ascended the metal stairs to gain access to the rooftops.

Once he reached the appropriate vantage point, he paced back, calculating distance, then burst into a sprint that carried him toward the edge of the rooftop. With a powerful leap, he bridged the gap to the neighboring building, repeating this athletic feat from one structure to the next in a breathtaking display of parkour until he arrived at the bank's roof.

There, Lightning prowled across the rooftop like a shadow until he reached his target that he had noted when he surveyed the bank earlier: the security camera with a clear view of the vent he needed to infiltrate. With a deftness that spoke of years of practice, he reached out and with a swift twist of his wrist, he dislodged the camera from its perch, letting it clatter to his feet where he proceeded to crush it beneath his boot, extinguishing its ability.

With the camera disabled, Lightning yet again transformed into an embodiment of stealth and precision. He inched over the ledge, his body angled in an almost impossible inversion as he maintained his balance with the expertise of a master climber. Upon unzipping a pocket of his hoodie, he pulled out a small screwdriver, its metal glinting faintly in the dim light as he set about removing the bolts securing the vent. One by one, the screws fell away, the metal grate clattering to the ground below. Lightning's movements were a choreographed dance of finesse and strength, as he contorted his body to slip into the vent's maw.

Inside, he weaved through the ducts with a patience born of necessity, seeking the nerve center of their target. After a meticulous journey, he discovered a room bristling with technology — computers, monitors, and servers — the perfect jackpot.

But caution was paramount; security cameras lurked like vigilant sentinels. Tuning into the environment, Lightning detected the faint hum of machinery from a camera nearby, likely positioned to monitor the vent. With a swift and calculated motion, he positioned his feet against the grate and unleashed a powerful kick. The grate sailed away as Lightning burst from the vent, his feet colliding with the camera in a precise strike, its recording light flickering out as he landed deftly on the ground.

Drawing from his extensive experience in past criminal exploits, Lightning navigated the familiar terrain of the room with confident precision. Approaching the mainframe computer, he deftly inserted the flash drive containing the virus, a potent tool acquired by Fiona from a black market, into the USB port. As the malicious code took root within the system, the room's atmosphere crackled with digital tension.

Observing the monitors flicker and glitch in response to the virus's intrusion, Lightning's ears flattened at the jarring cacophony of alarms distorted by the cyber assault. Without missing a beat, he reached for his phone and dialed Scourge.

“Howzit lookin’?” Scourge's voice cut through the chaos, his tone a blend of anticipation and authority, as he answered the call after a single ring.

“It’s working. Any second now...” Lightning's response was measured and focused, his gaze fixed on the unfolding chaos as the virus's effects intensified, causing the servers and monitors to succumb to the digital onslaught. With a self-assured smirk, he announced, “You’re up, boss.”

“See you in a minute,” Scourge's voice resonated with unwavering confidence as he terminated the call, stepping out of the car to retrieve an empty duffel bag from the trunk, preparing for the next phase of their operation.

Exiting the vehicle in tandem, Simon approached Scourge.

"In case the vault hasn't been unlocked, you’ll need some sticky bombs," Simon remarked, retrieving a small duffel bag containing the explosive devices and passing it to him with careful deliberation.

“Right on, man,” Scourge acknowledged with a faint grin, shouldering the bag of volatile tools in readiness for their utilization.

“You know how to use ‘em?”

“Yeah, gotta run,” Scourge responded with a playful salute, his focus shifting to the imminent task at hand. With his signature speed, he hastened towards the bank's entrance, the weight of their mission propelling him forward like a bullet. With a swift motion, he forced open the door, splintering the lock in the process, and plunged into the dimly lit interior, embarking on a determined search for the location of the vault, where their ultimate prize awaited.

Thanks to the combination of his remarkable speed and the lack of security measures in the bank, combing the grounds of the bank wasn’t nearly as difficult or time consuming as it would be under normal circumstances for the average person. In less than a minute, he stumbled upon a stairwell hiding behind an unmarked door in the heart of the bank. Leaping over the rail, he fell to the bottom and landed firmly on his feet, he found a long hallway that led to his destination.

Upon reaching the formidable entrance of the bank's vault, he found himself wrestling with the knob. His efforts proved fruitless as the door stood steadfast, mocking his attempt with its immobility. Unperturbed, he meticulously positioned a pair of sticky bombs on the surface of the massive steel barrier and hastily retreated to the stairwell's summit. From the duffel bag, he fished out the detonator, and despite the seriousness of the heist, a mischievous grin broke across his face, impossible to suppress.

He couldn't help but muse over the irony; the bank had undoubtedly poured an immense amount of time and fortune into their elaborate security measures, yet here they were, his band of rebels, dismantling the intricate system with such ease in hardly any time at all. It was almost pitiful, he thought. Actually, it was downright ludicrous. His laughter spilled forth, a wild symphony of triumph and mockery, echoing throughout, an audible testament that the world was, indeed, at his whim.

"Godspeed, Moebius!" Scourge's voice thundered amidst his cachinnation, the words charged with exhilaration as he pressed the detonator's button, instinctively covering his ears in anticipation of the blast. The resulting roar of the explosion reverberated up and down the stairwell, and he waited patiently as the tumultuous sounds gradually diminished into silence.

Once the echoes faded, Scourge confidently extracted his phone, the screen glowing to life as he connected with Lightning. The phone barely had time to ring before the lynx’s voice came through, crisp and alert. Scourge's instructions were brief and to the point, guiding his accomplice towards the now-breeched vault. With the call ended, he surged back outside to where the rest of the Destructix were already in motion, their figures spilling out of the SUV. They rummaged through the trunk, efficiently drawing out several empty duffel bags, their interiors hungry for the spoils of their venture.

Amidst the organized chaos, Simon distributed guns amongst the crew then took a moment to address Toxic. He crouched down, reducing the distance between them, and offered her the compact firearm that had been selected with her in mind. His voice was gentle yet firm, "Remember what to do with this?" he inquired, handing the weapon to her.

Toxic's response was tentative, her voice betraying the effort she was making to recall his earlier instructions, "Don’t uhm… point it at anyone I’m not gonna shoot and only shoot who they tell me to shoot?" She locked eyes with him, seeking affirmation.

"That’s right. And don’t go anywhere they don’t tell you to go," Simon replied, his nod conveying his approval. He watched as a spark of eager anticipation danced in Toxic's eyes, her small frame barely containing the thrill of their illicit escapade.

"I won’t," she promised earnestly, her excitement manifesting in a series of small, jubilant jumps.

"Good," Simon responded, the shadow of a smile threatening to break through his stoic demeanor. He then lifted his gaze, addressing the collective as he imparted his final piece of guidance, "I’ll call you guys if I hear sirens."

"Right on, Simon," Fiona chimed in, her thumb raised in solidarity.

Without further ado, Scourge issued the command to advance, "This way!" His stride was deliberate, a perfect balance of speed and caution as he led his crew back into the bank's interior, descending towards the vault where Lightning awaited their arrival, ready to lay claim to their prize.

The Destructix charged into the vault with an exhilaration akin to children rushing towards an ice cream truck on a hot summer day.

“Dig in, guys!” Scourge's voice reverberated through the enclosed space, brimming with ebullience, as he flung a duffel bag towards Lightning before eagerly stuffing his own with stacks of pristine hundred Moebium bills.

Fiona joined in the revelry, her whoops of joy punctuating the air as she deftly packed her duffel bag with a precision that bordered on artistry, ensuring every available inch was crammed with the coveted currency.

“Make sure you get these ones, kid,” Predator's voice cut through the commotion, guiding Toxic towards the higher denomination Moebium bills that she dutifully stashed away in her backpack.

In a synchronized rhythm, they continued their plunder, the vault echoing with the rustle of cash and the palpable thrill of anticipation. With each bill added to their bags, their imaginations sparked with visions of the luxuries and enhancements that awaited them. From fine dining to Scourge modifying his newly stolen sports car, and even the prospect of additional cybernetic upgrades for the whole gang beyond Lightning's imminent enhancements for the upcoming siege, the possibilities seemed endless in the glow of their success.

However, amidst the euphoria of their heist, Predator's keen gaze caught a subtle shift in Lightning's demeanor. The seasoned ninja’s ears pivoted, attuned to a sound only he could detect, his expression etched with a steely focus that signaled potential danger lurking in the shadows.

“What is it?” Predator inquired, recognizing the telltale intensity in Lightning's countenance, pausing in his cash-stuffing endeavor, the bills frozen in his grasp.

“That hum…” Lightning's voice was low, his ears swiveling as he zeroed in on a distinct electrical vibration growing in intensity behind him. Without hesitation, he turned his head towards the source, his eyes locking onto a menacing turret descending ominously from the vault's ceiling.

“Hit the deck!” Lightning’s urgent command pierced the chaos, a stark warning that sent everyone scrambling to the floor. In a swift motion, Flying vaulted over, landing protectively atop a bewildered Toxic, shielding her from the lethal hail of bullets that erupted across the room, the deadly projectiles grazing perilously close but missing their marks by mere inches.

Scourge's gaze locked onto the menacing turret, its malevolent intent clear in its automated movements. As the turret momentarily shifted its focus away from him, seizing the opportune moment, he sprang into action, leaping to his feet with a fluid grace honed through countless escapades. With a primal war cry, he executed his signature homing attack, hurtling towards the turret with unbridled fury, his strike shattering the mechanical menace into a cascade of twisted metal. Standing amidst the wreckage, he clenched his fist in frustration, bellowing, “The system’s coming back on! I thought we toasted it!?”

“It was supposed to take down the backup files! Fucker at the black market screwed us over!” Fiona's voice rang out, a potent cocktail of disbelief and fury coursing through her veins, her mind racing to process the unexpected betrayal.

“We have to go! Now!” Predator's voice cut through the tension, his tone decisive as he swiftly rose to his feet, sealing his bulging bag with practiced efficiency. The urgency of the situation hung heavy in the air, a stark reminder that their daring heist had veered perilously off course, leaving them with no choice but to retreat before the full might of the bank's defenses descended upon them.

As they fled from the compromised vault, their footsteps echoing down the dimly lit corridor, the weight of the stolen cash dragging at their arms, a sudden swarm of sleek white armed drones swooped towards them, their menacing presence casting a shadow over the fleeing band of outlaws.

“Feed ‘em lead, guys!” Scourge's command sliced through the tension, igniting a flurry of gunfire as his comrades unleashed a torrent of bullets upon the armored mechanical adversaries.

“Ain’t this fun-run-gun, little girl!?” Flying's exuberant voice boomed above the cacophony, his shots finding their mark with precision, shattering a drone's camera and halting its aggressive advance. Seizing the opportunity, he lifted the lower half of his mask, stretched out his signature elastic tongue, and ensnared the disabled drone before flinging it unceremoniously to the ground, inflicting heavy damage upon its mechanical form.

“Ew, you licked it!” Toxic's voice rang out in a mixture of disgust and amusement, her own shot landing the final blow on the incapacitated machine.

“And it tasted goooood!” Flying's laughter reverberated through the corridor, a wild blend of adrenaline-fueled exhilaration and irreverent humor in the face of danger.

“Keep your mask down, man!” Fiona’s urgent demand pierced through the deafening symphony of gunfire.

Scourge, ever the showboat, decided that the use of a gun was a waste of time as he flung the bulging duffel bag he carried skyward. With a grace that belied the chaos surrounding him, he blurred into motion, moving in the blink of an eye. In a breathtaking display of agility and finesse, he leapt into action, executing a powerful kick that sent one of the drones hurtling towards its two remaining companions. They collided in a spectacular chain reaction, crashing into each other with a resounding clatter before careening into the unforgiving walls like a cascade of metallic dominos.

Proud of the chaos he had unleashed, Scourge continued his lightning-fast maneuvers, a blur of motion as he seamlessly returned to his starting point, snatching the falling duffel bag from the air with unerring precision before it could touch the ground.

With a smug smirk stretching unseen beneath his mask, he maintained a brisk but steady pace, allowing the others to easily follow him. His voice rang out, laced with a taunting edge as he beckoned his crew with a playful shout, "haul ass, slowpokes! Eyes up!"

Fiona's heartbeat quickened in tandem with the rhythm of their ascent up the stairwell when she felt the unmistakable vibration of her cell phone against her thigh. It was as if she had a sixth sense; she knew it was Simon on the other end before she even drew the device from her pocket. With a swift swipe, she accepted the call, and Simon's voice came through, confirming her premonitions.

The police were en route and getting closer by the second.

"No shit," Fiona bellowed back into the receiver, her voice almost lost amidst the cacophony of the bank's alarm system. Her eyes darted around, vigilant for any additional hazards. "The virus didn't fully take the system down like we thought! Guy who sold me the drive fucked us over and now we’re dealing with turrets and drones!”

There was a moment's pause before Simon's voice returned, now laced with frustration. His grip tightened on his phone, his strength inadvertently causing the screen to crack slightly, "Damn…" he muttered, the sound of his frustration palpable, "I’m out front ready to drive when you get out."

"See you in a mi—" Fiona's response was cut short as a sudden, explosive noise caused her to miss a step. Another ceiling turret had been obliterated by Scourge, its remnants clattering down the stairs.

Toxic, caught off guard by the chaos, let out a startled yelp. Her footing lost, she teetered dangerously backward until Fiona's reflexes kicked in. With a firm grip, Fiona caught her by the shirt, halting her fall.

"Watch your damn step!" Fiona admonished with an air of irritation. She then sighed, resigning herself to a solution, "Or, ugh, climb on back, we can’t have you slow us down!" Bending down, she allowed Toxic to clamber onto her back, securing a tight hold.

Simon's voice crackled with urgency through the phone, "What happened? Are you guys ok?"

"Relatively speakin’, yeah!" Fiona shouted back, her tone a cocktail of adrenaline and urgency, "Look, can't talk—there's a lot of shit going on!" With that, she ended the call abruptly, the severity of their predicament justifying the sudden interruption.

The remaining distance through the bank was a blur of gunfire and mechanical wreckage as they dispatched swarm after swarm of drones and turrets. Finally, the Destructix burst through the front doors, spilling out into the moonlight. They sprinted towards their getaway vehicle, tossing the duffel bags laden with cash into the trunk before tumbling into the SUV.

"Everyone in?" Simon's voice carried a mix of composure and haste, the wail of sirens now ominously close.

"FUCKING DRIVE, SIMON!" Scourge's voice erupted, his fist pounding against the dash with a force that echoed his impatience.

Simon needed no further urging. His foot slammed down on the gas pedal, and the car lurched forward, tires screeching as they tore away from the scene of their crime.

Exhilaration pulsed through Toxic as she threw her fists into the air, her voice ringing with triumph, "we did it!"

Fiona, ever the realist, tempered the celebration with a cautious glance over her shoulder. Her eyes widened and a string of curses spilled out as she spotted the relentless pursuit of law enforcement, "almost," she snapped back, noting the sea of flashing lights gaining on them.

"Piggly wigglies have come out to play!" Flying declared with a manic gleam in his eyes, thirsting for the violent confrontation.

Without missing a beat, Fiona barked at Scourge, "Get that scanner on—now!" Scourge, understanding the urgency and following Fiona’s instructions, immediately flipped the switch and dialed up the volume. The scanner crackled to life, and the gang leaned in as they focused on the dispatcher's voice detailing their vehicle's description and last known heading.

The unmistakable blare of the police's ultimatum boomed through their own intercom, "NCPD! Pull over or we will open fire!"

Scourge couldn't suppress a sardonic chuckle, muttering under his breath, "Is that any way to talk to the king and his men?" He then turned to the rest of the gang, his grin sharp and wild, "Get your iron ready, guys!"

Flying didn't need to be told twice. With agile movements, he vaulted over the seats, landing with a thud in the trunk. He rummaged quickly, resurfacing with a cache of assault rifles. He passed the weapons to Lightning, Predator, Fiona, and Scourge with an efficiency born of experience.

With determination, Scourge positioned himself at the window, the cool metal of the rifle in his grasp. He braced, took aim, and as the car swerved to avoid incoming fire, he squeezed the trigger. The sound of bullets ricocheting off metal filled the air as Fiona and the others followed, unleashing a hailstorm of gunfire towards the police vehicles that were in hot pursuit.

“I wanna shoot too!” Toxic’s voice rang out with a mix of eagerness and frustration as she watched the ongoing chaos from the sidelines.

“You’re gonna love this, kiddo!” Flying couldn’t contain his exhilaration, his voice booming over the cacophony of gunfire and sirens, shaking with wild laughter. In a swift, fluid motion, he lifted the lower half of his mask to reveal a wide, mischievous grin. With precision, his extendable tongue shot out, securely latching onto Toxic and pulling her to his side. Ensuring her safety, he held her steady as she leaned out of the speeding car window, her own weapon in hand. Together, they fired relentlessly at the pursuing police cars. By a stroke of luck, or perhaps skill, one of Toxic’s bullets found its mark, shattering a windshield and striking the driver. The ensuing chaos was immediate - the police cars swerved, collided, and ultimately crashed into a spectacular pile-up.

“Attagirl!” Flying’s praise was enthusiastic, though somewhat muffled as his tongue still maintained a protective grip on Toxic, ensuring she remained safe within the confines of their escape vehicle.

“Shh!” The urgency in Fiona’s hiss cut through the adrenaline-fueled air. Her focus was entirely on the scanner on the radio, the static-filled voice emanating from it capturing her full attention. “Did you hear that?”

“Hear what?” Predator’s voice was tinged with curiosity as he ducked inside the vehicle, his head tilting in an attempt to discern the message being transmitted.

“We’re completely blocked in,” Lightning’s tone was matter-of-fact, echoing Predator’s movements by also leaning into the interior of the car.

“We can’t carry all this stuff on foot... What’s the plan, bosses?” Simon’s queried, maneuvering the wheel, eyes scanning the road with steely focus.

The tension spiked as the unmistakable sound of helicopter blades cutting through the air reached their ears, followed by the invasive glare of a spotlight suddenly trained on them.

“Hmm…” Predator’s hum was pensive, the gears turning in his mind as a sly smirk began to play at the corners of his mouth, “a helicopter crashing into a police blockade could be very… distracting.”

“Sounds like there’s a blockade straight ahead in about a quarter mile,” Simon interjected, offering critical intel while his gaze never wavered from the road ahead.

Flying’s energy seemed to surge at the revelation, and with a swift, graceful movement, he released his grip on Toxic. He gently placed her in the safety of the seat next to him as he adjusted his mask back into place, concealing his features once again.

“Sounds like a party-arty-farty! Could I pretty please come?” His voice was laced with a playful wheedle as he clasped his hands together and batted his eyelashes in exaggerated anticipation.

"Fine," Predator conceded, a flicker of determination in his eyes as he prepared for the daring maneuver ahead. Without hesitation, he propelled himself out of the window, soaring around the car in a swift loop. The frog's outstretched hands snatched his ankles in a seamless motion, propelling him like a speeding bullet towards the helicopter.

"Alright!" Predator's voice boomed over the roar of the wind, his instructions clear and decisive. "I'll take the right side, you'll take the left. Glide in on my word!"

With precision honed from countless escapades, Predator zeroed in on the left side of the helicopter. As the moment aligned perfectly, he bellowed, "NOW!" The signal unleashed a synchronized assault as Flying swooped into the helicopter, swiftly incapacitating one pilot, while Predator swiftly dealt with the other.

The limp bodies of the pilots were unceremoniously tossed from the aircraft as Predator assumed command, his gaze fixed on the impending blockade and the oncoming SUV. "Jump out now!" his command cut through the chaos, urgency tinged in his voice. As the helicopter dove towards the obstruction, Flying wasted no time, gliding out to safety just in time. Predator followed suit, propelling himself upward like a bullet, his gaze locked on the impending collision below. From his aerial vantage point, he watched as the helicopter collided with the police cars, the explosion engulfing them in a ball of fire and chaos.

Below, the police were thrown into disarray, their attention captivated by the explosion which created a gap in their formation as vehicles were tossed aside. Seizing the moment, everyone in the SUV ducked down, and Simon floored the accelerator, steering the vehicle through the flames. They slipped into the shadows, vanishing from the distracted gaze of law enforcement.

Predator and Flying, now airborne, kept a vigilant watch over the van's trajectory as it wove its way through the ensuing pandemonium below. Like specters in the night, they shot through the air, their bodies silhouetted against the backdrop of flames and smoke, as they made their descent towards the now distant vehicle.

The two remained vigilant from their aerial perspective, their keen eyes tracking the van's trajectory as it weaved through the chaos. With the grace of seasoned acrobats, they soared through the smoke-filled sky, their bodies silhouetted against the fiery backdrop, preparing to rejoin their team. With a synchronized thud, they landed on the roof of the car and maneuvered themselves, finding ingress through an open window to rejoin their comrades within the confines of the vehicle.

With their hearts pounding in anxious anticipation, the team held their breath as the scanner's confirmation echoed in the tense air, revealing that the suspects had slipped away, vanishing into the chaos that surrounded them. Despite the seemingly daunting odds stacked against them, the Destructix had emerged victorious yet again.

(Hey yall sorry this took so damn long life became crazy for a min but thank u so much for waiting! Also there was gonna be more to this chapter but it would have been absurdly long but on the upside chapter 8 is already in the works! Next chapter has a lil….surprise 🫶🤍🩵)

[rhymeswithfart]

"Hello, I hope you and your family are well. Can you please help me recycle the post on my account? 🌺 And help rescue my family from the war in Gaza? 🙏 Thank you."

https://gofund.me/7a794018

I'm very sorry I took so long to answer. I hope you will all be safe.

Vetted by 90ghost (more info on op's page) and low on funds

I'll add images to tag more things:

[scourges-girl]

Which group do you prefer Scourge in ?

[magnetisticc]

a little hater

[missile-the-sandcat]

Important Suppression Squad Poll

[muwitch]

teth's pre-tadpole "looks";

Technically Teth is kind of ascetic when it comes to cloth. Mostly fond of simple fabrics or something that drapes over the body nicely, not limiting motion.

"Ritual" gear however is most fancy of possessed clothing items, bc let's face it, you've to look like you're leading something if you're head of Temple, even it means absconding underwear. Practical when you're getting some necrophilia in your business schedule too.

I love the cape Sceleritas gives us, it had to go somewhere. As the storm sorcerer's elements.

Also bc bhaalspawn's whole body is a weapon; you can be ass naked as wee baby and still wrangle life out of someone's body. It's a philosophy. Also reason for less restraining clothes "at home".

Out of home though: conceal don't feel, don't let it show. Also black goes well with being in the shadows. Don't touch the mask though.

Could be a bit of gender mystery when geared up right and talking in hushed voice, but there aren't too many curves there, don't be fooled.

Loves hoods send help.

Undercut my beloved, was lost in the sause of lobotomy.

[spark-circuit]

actually curious now after that very cool comic post about hiring new agents (i don't want to spoil op on story just in case but 👍); how did everyone's first agent die, if you remember?

mine was a Heart of Aspiration-insanity-related death; she was the only agent with the white weapon that day, so they were stuck insane, and i'd stopped reading the Manager's Handbook just before the part about insane agents getting 'retired' at the end of day. i don't remember her name but she's the sole reason i started buckling down on the technicalities and focusing on making sure my agents were well protected against insanity hiccups

[hadesknockedupintheunderworld]

Gotta love how in Archie anti Jules and the biggest shit eating grin while poor baby scourge looked so lonely , puny and neglected.

Yeah poor little guy🥲

[tacticalphotography]

[araeoframblings]

Rosy the Rascal would have been a much more interesting character and more thematically in line with the other anti characters if she was in love with scourge rather than wanting to kill him. Instead of making her whole personality being that she's Crazy and murderous, she could have been a dark mirror of amy's selfless love for sonic by making rosy willing to do anything scourge asked- do anything no matter how twisted or evil so long as it was FOR scourge and his happiness.

Idk I just feel like there are so many ways you can turn something as pure as love into something sick and twisted, and the way they handled rosy felt more like they were just parodying and shitting on Amy's character rather than giving her an anti that fit in with the others thematically- who were all basically the exact same person as their counterparts with all the same core character traits, they just used them to act like jackasses instead of heroes.

[vendettaspathfanfic]

Chapter Five

(First one with the cover!!)

(Chapter Index)

(Previous)

(Next)

The sudden demise of a prominent official and the mysterious vanishing of another were events that could not stay undetected for long. Reinforcements were swiftly deployed to the location to scrutinize the aftermath of a violent explosion, an array of gunfire, and the resonating shockwaves of sonic booms.

Although nobody had any idea who initiated the bombing, it was initially assumed Miles Prower and Boomer Walrus of the Suppression Squad had neutralized the elusive blue blur. Yet, upon arrival, they were met with a chilling scene - the lifeless body of Boomer, his existence snuffed out by a fatal gunshot wound on the lower right side of his neck. The grim tableau was punctuated by the discovery of four police-issue bullet casings and three bullets lodged in the nearby concrete wall.

This evidence led to an almost inescapable conclusion - the young blue blur who had managed to seize a gun from the law enforcement ranks was the likely perpetrator of this crime.

After power and communications were swiftly restored, the area remained under stringent lockdown. Law enforcement personnel diligently scanned the vicinity for any trace of Miles, the young suspect, or any individuals exhibiting suspicious behavior. Their search unearthed only the shattered remnants of Miles' array of handheld devices and a faint set of small, bloody shoeprints.

Atop a hill, overlooking the city, the massive Castle Acorn loomed like a fortress of steel and glass. Its impressive structure was marked by glowing neon spires that pierced the evening sky, a true testament to technological power. Inside the castle's walls, Alicia Acorn sat in the throne room, surrounded by modern design and bathed in the gentle glow of neon lights. It was there that she received an urgent phone call from the chief of police, bearing this news of her comrades' fate and the circumstances surrounding it.

The newly crowned queen gripped her throne, taking in a breath in an attempt to retain composure. “Please bring Boomer’s remains to the castle as soon as you are able. And do not cease in your search for Miles.”

“Yes, your majesty.” The chief dutifully responded. “We’re able to have him sent back right away.”

The loss of Boomer was bad enough by itself. His collaboration with Miles in the realm of engineering and invention had been a cornerstone of the extraordinary technological revolution sweeping through their world. More than just an innovator, Boomer was also one of the most formidable combatants within their small team.

The impact of Miles' sudden disappearance was even more catastrophic. While Alicia held the official title of queen in their domain, it was Miles who was the true architect of power behind the throne. His strategic wit was the keystone in their coup that toppled the despised Scourge, leading to the former king's incarceration in Zone Jail at the hands of Sonic. Without his guiding hand, Alicia's governance faced the threat of unraveling.

Patch, interjected with furrowed brows and a skeptical glance from his intact eye, "I was under the impression that the Shapeshifters had departed our planet, madame."

Alicia gestured assertively as she responded, "Many have, not her.” She turned to pace in another direction, her eyes shifting in continuous thought as she spoke. "I had already considered extending an invitation for her to join us. Now, there's no luxury of time to ponder further. She represents our immediate recourse." With her arms now dropping to her sides, her hands clenched into determined fists, Alicia’s eyes blazed with resolve. "As for locating Miles, rest assured we will find him," she proclaimed with a steely tone. "Even if our search means reducing our world to ashes."

Little did Miles’ comrades know that he was unconscious in the back of a postal van.

In a fortunate turn of events, telecommunications were swiftly restored in the vicinity of the recent bombing. Inhabitants of this affluent area had the financial means to ensure rapid resumption of services, and as a result, utility crews worked diligently to rectify the outage in under 20 minutes. The expeditious recovery allowed the Destructix to hastily reconvene and make their escape from the site of the explosion, slipping away before law enforcement could fully divert their attention from managing the immediate effects of the devastation.

In a calculated move to avoid drawing attention, Fiona opted for a less direct route than the rest of the gang as they drove back to their hideout. She was at the wheel of the high-performance sports car they had stolen earlier. In the passenger seat, Scourge was visibly annoyed, burdened with the task of holding the most wanted child in all of Moebius, who was making her discontent loudly known. Due to earlier incidents, he deemed it best that the Destructix didn’t attempt to handle her.

"I wanna fuckin' drive!" Toxic's high-pitched, petulant demand sliced through the interior of the car, her voice a discordant note that caused Scourge's ears to involuntarily flatten against his head in vexation.

Scourge's patience frayed, and with a harsh tone, he retorted, "And if you don't shut up, I'll want to knock all your baby teeth out." This threat prompted Toxic to issue a low, defiant growl, and with exaggerated pique, she crossed her arms and turned her gaze out the window, embodying the essence of childish rebellion.

Despite the animosity that he held towards his sister, recent developments were too significant to overlook. For starters, there was the fact that one of their rivals had been shot dead, which had subsequently resulted in the abduction of another. To top it all off, Scourge found himself in possession of an exceptionally sleek sports car. Admittedly, the vehicle had a shattered window—a souvenir from the circumstances of its acquisition—but he was confident that with a little bodywork and a fresh coat of paint, it would serve as a magnificent means of transportation. The cause of these victories were his sister's reckless escapade that had her tangling with the long arm of the law.

Her actions, albeit inadvertent, had proven to be of considerable advantage to them.

"Ay, Toxic… We need to talk about some things," Scourge reluctantly initiated the conversation, hesitant to give her credit for her aid.

"I thought you said shut up?" Toxic retorted, her tone laced with bitterness as she tightly crossed her arms over her chest.

Scourge let out an exasperated roll of his eyes, followed by a scoff, "Well, you can talk now, smartass."

"Can I drive?" Toxic inquired, a spark of curiosity lighting up her gaze as she considered the prospect.

"Not a chance, brat," Scourge dismissed the idea instantly. "Anyways, that's not what I'm trying to talk about. Look, you did some crazy-ass stuff today, and I was this close," he said, holding his thumb and forefinger millimeters apart, "to blowing your brains out. You could've landed us all back in the slammer," he added, his voice tinged with contempt. He paused to rub his face, as if the physical action could somehow help him process the day's events, "But, lucky for you, your antics actually played out in our favor. So, not only am I sparing your life, but I'm also offering you another shot to roll with our crew. We're talking about a legit life here. Away from that hellhole of an orphanage, living it up in the castle where everything we could ever want is just a snap away. But this comes with conditions: you do everything we say, you don't run off, you don't attack us, you don't mess with our stuff without permission, and you put an end to those tantrums of yours. Otherwise, you're nothing but fodder for the rats. Are we clear, kid?"

Toxic seemed to mull over his words, her initially rigid posture gradually easing, her ear twitching as if weighing each word. Scourge watched her with a raised eyebrow, his head tilted in anticipation of her response.

"Um… Does this mean you can help me?" Toxic eventually asked, her voice small as she twiddled a strand of her unkempt hair, avoiding eye contact.

Scourge blinked, taken aback. She was asking for help? It dawned on him that he had never really considered her needing anything beyond the apparent satisfaction she derived from antagonizing him and his cohorts.

"Uh… Depends," Scourge replied, his expression still betraying his confusion, "What do you need, Toxic?"

Her response was timid, her words imbued with a childlike simplicity, "My friends didn't come back..." Toxic admitted sheepishly, her gaze shifting away to the car window, evading the weight of their stares.

"Your friends?" Fiona chimed in, perplexed at the idea of her ever having friends.

"Hold on a second," Scourge interjected with a snap of his fingers, a lightbulb going off in his head, "Is that why you had four lanterns?"

Toxic nodded slowly, her long fingernail, encrusted with dirt, scraping against the door's upper panel as she gazed blankly into the distance.

"Uh..." Scourge exhaled, a notable tension in his breath as he grappled with the realization of her situation and scratched at the back of his head, pondering the implication of her words, "we… might have a way to find them." Scourge's voice was tentative, betraying a hint of reluctance before he directed his gaze to her, asking with a newfound sense of purpose, "Where were they last seen? What happened?"

She began to recount the events in a halting, childlike manner, "Um… ok so Revine told me not to do the slide because it was broken but it didn’t look broken and then I did it, but it um… broked. Then my mouth cut hurt really bad and I had a hot um… face." Toxic tapped her forehead, indicating a fever, her speech hampered by the limits of her youthful lexicon, "I didn't feel good and Revine went to go get um… the medicine… But she didn't come back. Ren and Selene were scared, and I felt badder, but..." She trailed off, her voice dropping to almost a whisper as she lowered her head, her gaze fixated on Scourge's shoes in the dim light of the car while she fidgeted with her hair, "Revine always said don't look for her if she doesn't come back, but they still went looking and they didn't come back either."

A heavy silence settled over the interior of the car as the gravity of Toxic's predicament sunk in. For the first time, Scourge felt a genuine pang of sympathy for his sister, his blue eyes softening as they made contact with her green ones, reflecting a vulnerability he hadn't noticed before. He was acutely aware that finding her friends would be no simple feat. In the best-case scenario, they had been apprehended and would be listed in police records, which could be accessed with ease if they managed to secure positions of influence. But if they weren't in custody, they could be kidnapped, dead, or lost among the countless homeless children wandering the neon-drenched labyrinth of the city's streets.

"Ok..." Scourge finally spoke, his voice lower, the earlier edge of command now replaced with a more contemplative tone as he averted his eyes from Toxic and stared ahead at the road, "Just stick to the rules, do what we say, and we'll help you look for them, understood?"

Toxic's nod was firm, and with newfound conviction, she affirmed, "Ok."

"You know, Toxic," Fiona interjected, taking control of the steering wheel as she navigated the vehicle, her eyes scanning the road ahead, "shooting seems to be in your blood. We could train you to handle a gun like a real sharpshooter. But remember, you only use a gun when we say so, got it?"

"Ok," Toxic responded, a glimmer of enthusiasm detectable in her voice as she contemplated the offer, "Can we get some food?"

"Yeah," Scourge agreed, pointing at Fiona with a sudden inspiration, "we should swing by that pizza joint we hit up earlier. We could grab a box and some beers to toast our little victory tonight."

"Amen to that," Fiona laughed.

"Wait, I want beer too," Toxic suddenly piped up, her request prompting a burst of laughter from Scourge and Fiona.

"Have you ever even tasted beer?" Scourge queried through his chuckles.

"No. I saw some people drinking it when we went out to find food. Revine said I'm too young for it, but are you saying I can have some?" Toxic asked, her thumbs fidgeting in anticipation.

Scourge was about to respond when Fiona interjected with a firm, "No!"

"Come on, she's earned it! It'd just be a taste," Scourge argued, still laughing at the thought of their youngest member joining in the revelry.

"Scourge, she's just a kid. Who knows what it might do to her? Plus, she’d definitely be a mean drunk," Fiona retorted, shaking her head at Scourge's lack of foresight.

The idea of a belligerent, inebriated child hurling insults at hardened criminals was too amusing for Scourge to resist. "Wait—Shit!" he gasped, struggling to stifle his laughter, "Alright, alright, just one little sip," he conceded, still chuckling.

"Just a splash, barely a taste," Fiona relented, joining in the mirth, "We're definitely going straight to hell for this."

As the laughter subsided, Scourge reassured Toxic, "We'll get you some soda too. Beer's an acquired taste, kid."

"What the hell does that mean?" Toxic asked, her brows knitting together in confusion.

"You'll find out," Scourge said, glancing out the window just in time to see they were pulling up to the pizzeria.

Through the grimy car window, they could see the restaurant's television broadcasting the news, ablaze with coverage of the aftermath of a recent bombing, and now featuring the murder of Boomer Walrus.

"Damn..." Scourge muttered to himself, "Fiona, you grab the pizza. Toxic, you're staying in the car with me."

Fiona nodded tersely, understanding the gravity of the situation, and exited the vehicle to collect their order.

"Why do we have to stay in the car?" Toxic inquired, her fingernail resuming its path along the car door's leather panel.

"Because you've landed yourself in a shitload of trouble. We can't risk some bounty hunter spotting you and trying to cash in," Scourge explained with a weary sigh, his mind flashing back to past encounters with relentless headhunters who’d do anything for a reward.

When Fiona returned, laden with an extra large box of pizza and bottles of beer, they wasted no time in driving back to the orphanage. Upon arrival, they rearranged some scattered chairs into a circle in one of the building's larger rooms. They set a single chair in the center to serve as a makeshift table for the pizza box, which was now the focal point surrounded by the soft glow of the four lanterns. The dim light from the lanterns cast eerie shadows on the walls as they settled into their seats, ready to celebrate the tumultuous day's end.

"Where's Miles, by the way?" Fiona inquired casually, reaching for a slice of pizza and a beer from the makeshift table.

"We tied him to a chair in an old freezer down in the basement," Predator answered, popping open his beer and taking an eager gulp. His face contorted in disgust as he quickly pulled the bottle away, "This tastes like..."

"Like piss and batteries," Lightning finished, grimacing after taking a swig of his own.

"You'd know all about that, wouldn't you, Lightning-wing-sting?" Flying Frog teased with a jeering point, his laughter echoing in the room.

"Yeah, learned from the best—your mom," Lightning retorted with a smirk, eliciting a round of chuckles from the group.

"Hey! Watch it, pally!" Flying Frog shot back with mock offense, standing on his chair He then grinned widely, "Tell her I said thanks for dumping me when I was born," he joked before collapsing back into his chair amidst the group's laughter.

Scourge felt a gentle tap on his arm and looked down to see Toxic seeking his attention. "Can I have a beer now?" she asked with a hopeful look in her eyes.

"Hold up, everyone. Before we drink any more, I think we need to acknowledge our little wildcard here," Scourge declared, raising his bottle for attention despite the murmurs of disbelief from his gang. "If it weren't for her wild antics today, Boomer would still be alive and Miles wouldn't be in the freezer. So here's to Toxic," he proclaimed, nodding at Fiona who reluctantly opened a bottle for the youngster.

"Toxic," they echoed, albeit somewhat scattered, as they raised their bottles and took a drink. Toxic, in her innocence, tried to mimic the gesture but immediately spat out the beer, her face scrunching up in disgust, which sent another wave of laughter through the group.

"To be fair, this beer is pretty terrible," Simon admitted with the hint of a grin.

"We kicked ass guys, not win the lottery," Fiona added with a chuckle, handing over a bottle of orange soda to Toxic. "Here, try this instead, kid."

Grateful to rid her mouth of the bitter taste, Toxic eagerly guzzled the soda before hungrily diving into her slice of pizza.

The atmosphere within the dimly lit room was unusually relaxed and convivial as the evening progressed. The gang, typically bound by the commonality of their shared objectives and the threat of their enemies, found themselves unwinding in a rare display of camaraderie. It wasn't an occasion that required the profundity of deep, heart-to-heart discussions; rather, the air was filled with an undercurrent of joviality that was a welcome departure from their usual interactions.

Simon, Flying, Lightning, and Predator shared a history that spanned several years, their familiarity with one another evident in their effortless exchanges. For Scourge and Fiona, however, the dynamics were relatively new territory. Although past collaborations had occasionally thrown them together, it was only recently that they had committed to being full-time members of this gang. As such, their integration into the fold was still a work in progress, with trust and friendship being forged through shared experiences and battles.

Yet, as laughter filled the room and barriers began to dissolve, it seemed that the invisible walls that had separated them were crumbling. Even Toxic, the young girl who had been the object of their collective disdain earlier in the day, was now an integral part of the evening's festivities, her presence accepted, perhaps even appreciated, as they all found common ground in the simple pleasure of the moment.

As the night wore on, the effects of the alcohol became increasingly evident. Their inhibitions lowered, their speech slowed, and their movements took on a languid quality. Lightning, in particular, seemed to succumb to the introspective pull of inebriation. Holding an empty bottle with a loose grip, he lamented over a lost love with slurred words and a bitterness that could only be fueled by the sting of rejection. Bride of the Conquering Storm, the formidable leader of his former Raiju clan, had not only denied his affections but had also cast him out of said clan following his failure to display his worth in combat against her and Sonic.

Predator, observing Lightning's inebriated state, offered a dose of unsentimental advice. Hunched over in his chair, a bottle of his own hanging precariously from his fingers, he addressed Lightning with a weary sigh. "If she's such a bitch, forget her," he muttered.

"I c-“ Lightning's speech was abruptly cut off by a soft burp, his words trailing off. "I can’t. I wanted her more than anything, man… And then I get kicked out of my clan… Like what the fuck!?" His voice grew progressively louder, his words slurred as he spoke.

"Lightning, look around you," Predator grumbled, his grip tightening on the bottle as he gestured around them. "Sure, we’re in a dump of an orphanage, but no matter what, you’ve got us. Focus on that. What happened back then won’t happen again."

Lightning paused, attempting to process Predator’s words, but before he could, he was overcome by a wave of acute nausea, muttering a faint "fuck" before rushing out of the room to vomit.

Predator watched him go and then stared at the doorway through which he had fled for a moment or two. He shut his eyes and clenched his jaw, staring down at his feet in silence. After a heavy sigh, he placed the bottle on the floor, stood up, and slurred, "I’m gonna go to bed…" before storming away without another word, dragging his feet as he went.

"Looks like I’m getting some black coffee in the morning," Simon said, observing Flying Frog snoring in his chair with an empty beer bottle in his lap.

“Why?” Toxic asked, squishing her empty plastic soda bottle out of boredom.

"It helps when you get a hangover," Simon replied, his words slightly slurred from the alcohol.

"What’s a hangover?" Toxic asked, wiggling her feet aimlessly before putting the tip of the bottle in her mouth and gnawing on it. She leaned back against the wall, her curiosity piqued.

“It’s when you drink a lot of beer or other types of alcohol and the next morning you feel sick,” Simon explained, getting up to pick up the empty bottles scattered around the room, the faint aroma of alcohol lingering in the air.

“Why do people do that?” she pondered with a grimace, unable to fathom the appeal of drinking something so vile. She wrinkled her nose at the thought.

“For fun, I guess. Why do you ask so many questions?” Simon replied, taking her bottle and adding it to the trash he took to a nearby waste bin, the clinking of glass echoing in the quiet room.

“I dunno,” Toxic said with a shrug, her eyes following Simon as he moved around the room.

“Well,” Simon began with a stretch, “I’ll go to bed too. You should sleep too soon, you hear me?”

“I’m not tired,” Toxic protested, her gaze wandering around the room.

“Well, you will be soon. G’night, Toxic,” he said softly before leaving to go to bed, his steps fading into the distance.

Meanwhile, Scourge and Fiona were outside having one last cigarette before they went to bed, the night air cool against their skin.

“So…” Fiona exhaled, a cloud of smoke escaping her lips, “If we get Miles to talk, we get word on the castle’s security. Then… it’s almost straight shootin’ from there.”

“Hopefully,” Scourge added before inhaling deeply, the red ember of his cigarette glowing in the darkness, “but our plans have seemed to change a lot lately, so we gotta be prepared for anything.”

“We’re good at rolling with the punches though, ain’t we?” She said with a mischievous smirk as she held the cigarette between her fingers, turning her head to Scourge, nudging his side playfully with her elbow, the faint glow of the cigarette illuminating their faces in the dim light.

“True,” Scourge admitted, his arm enveloping Fiona’s waist as they stood bathed in the gentle glow of the moonlight filtering through the night sky. He gazed into her eyes, the silver beams reflecting in her irises, creating a mesmerizing effect.

“Nowhere I’d rather be…” Fiona said softly, her voice carrying a hint of longing, as she closed the gap between their lips, embracing a fusion of love and the bitter tang of nicotine.

They savored the moment for a couple of minutes, their connection deepened by the intoxicating allure of both the chemicals and each other’s presence. Although unspoken, they both knew they needed one another. In a world consumed by chaos, they were each other’s anchor, the one constant they could rely on. As their lips hesitantly drifted apart, they extinguished their cigarettes, reentered the building, and headed off to bed, their silhouettes fading into the darkness.

Toxic was the last one awake at this point. She rubbed her eyes as she got up from her chair and turned three of the lanterns off, preserving their power as Revine had taught her to do before taking one to guide her to her designated mattress. With a quiet click, she turned off the lantern and settled onto her bed, a glimmer of hope kindling within her for the first time in almost two weeks.

As Scourge had mentioned earlier, they had to be prepared for anything.

Dr. Stellaria Versipelle eagerly accepted the opportunity to join the Suppression Squad. After conducting a thorough examination of Boomer’s lifeless form, she extended an invitation to Queen Alicia and Patch to demonstrate something she claimed would be incredibly useful to them.

“What can she show us?” Patch asked Alicia as they approached the lab, his voice tinged with curiosity and uncertainty. “Clearly the child shot and killed him.”

“We won’t know until we get there, now will we?” Alicia tersely replied as they entered the lab, the sterile scent of antiseptic hitting their nostrils as they were greeted by the doctor, who had taken the form of a tall navy blue Moebian fox, her presence exuding an air of professionalism and intrigue.

“Thank you for making time out of your schedule to come see me,” the doctor spoke formally with a grin, her hands folding in front of her as she stood before them. “I’ll make this quick and worth your while.”

“Well, what do you have to say?” Alicia inquired, her eyes fixed on the shrouded form of Boomer, a sense of urgency palpable in her voice.

“Firstly,” the doctor began, her steps purposeful as she paced around Boomer’s still figure, “I’ve come to the conclusion he didn’t die instantly. He struggled for a moment, gagging on his own blood long enough for me to be able to show you why you’re here.” She turned to an assistant standing nearby, her expression expectant. “If you could bring my subject in? And please do be gentle with her, she can be sensitive.”

As her assistant followed orders, Patch’s eyes furrowed in confusion, his unease growing palpable in the tense atmosphere of the lab.

“Erm… Subject, Miss?” Patch asked apprehensively, his gaze shifting between the doctor and the assistant, uncertainty etched on his features.

"Doctor," Stellaria corrected him, her blood orange eyes locking onto Patch’s with an icy intensity that sent a chill running down his spine, eliciting a disquieting chuckle from her. The air in the room seemed to grow colder as her gaze held him in place. "And, yes. I found her and have been working with her since she was a child. You see, she was born with certain abilities that make her quite unique. This includes but isn’t limited to telekinetic powers, the ability to create out of thin air, and, most relevantly at the moment, clairvoyance. With the ever-increasing rise in technological and scientific advancement, her abilities have been enhanced tenfold, resulting in quite a remarkable specimen if I do say so myself. Oh, and do call her McKenna."

At that moment, accompanied by the aforementioned assistant, a teenage red fox with frizzy, somewhat wavy hair entered the room, her locks partially obscuring half of her face. She wore a plain white t-shirt and matching white pants, with socks that had grips on the bottom, her posture rigid and her expression blank and unflinching. The only indication of her being anything near lifelike was the subtle movement of her fingertips as she twiddled them in random, strange patterns, her presence casting an otherworldly aura in the room.

“I’ve taken the liberty of collecting a blood sample from Boomer,” Stellaria added, holding up a small vial of blood, the crimson liquid swirling within the glass under the harsh laboratory lights. “Just enough for her to show us what we need to know. As I’ve said, her clairvoyance is vital right now. When she tastes his blood, she can get somewhat of a profile of his energy, as well as be able to see things from his perspective. More importantly, the circumstances of his death. If you will, my dear?”

Saying nothing and retaining a blank, unflinching expression, McKenna took the vial that Dr. Versipelle handed her and removed the cap. Closing her eyes, she raised it to her lips and drank the blood sample, the action causing a flicker of repulsion to cross the faces of Alicia and Patch. For a moment, she was completely still, the bottle held to her lips, looking as though she was the subject of a paused movie frame.

When she let out a loud gasp, she startled all but Stellaria, her frame tensing as she gripped the lower right side of her neck, the place where Boomer was shot, her distress unmistakable as she seemed to struggle to breathe, the tension in the room thickening with each passing second. After a moment, her jaw squirmed, and she emitted a deep, guttural voice that bore a striking resemblance to Boomer's as she shut her eyes tightly. “That little bitch shot me!”

“Who did!?” Alicia interjected demandingly, her voice cutting through the tense silence, her eyes locked onto McKenna.

“The fucking kid! Who do you think!? She’s with him! We should have known!” McKenna groaned and gasped, her voice still laced with pain as she retained the same tone, clutching her neck tightly. When she opened her eyes, it was revealed her pupils were glowing red.

"Who’s ‘him’?” Alicia stood closer to her, her eyes narrowed as she knelt in front of McKenna. She clenched her fists in determination as she demanded to know the answer.

“OUR OLD KING, GENIUS!” McKenna roared before coughing violently and falling to the ground, writhing as she struggled to breathe and clutch her throat.

Dr. Versipelle, unfazed by the display that shocked Patch and Alicia, calmly pressed a button on her watch. In response, electrodes surged through McKenna’s body, causing her to jolt and become limp, panting as she tried to steady her breathing. Stellaria knelt down to the girl who lay helpless on the ground and helped her stand.

“You’re ok. It’s just energy. You haven’t been hurt, my dear,” Stellaria reassured McKenna, who whimpered as she reciprocated the hug she was pulled into.

“Mother…” McKenna whispered, her accent and voice now dramatically different as it became higher pitched and wheezy. Furthermore, the red light was once again absent from her eyes.

“Shhh… follow him back to your room for now and rest, my dear,” Stellaria requested gently, to which McKenna and her lab assistant obliged.

Dr. Versipelle’s demeanor returned to its typical formal state with a hint of cockiness. “In case you’re wondering, the electrodes help ground her back to reality.”

With Alicia and Patch in a state of horror, Patch, with his hand over his mouth, murmured, “Scourge…”

"He’s back!? How!? Fuck!” She roared ferociously, her voice laced with anger and disbelief. “he’s been behind everything. We’ll find him! When we do, we’ll ensure he NEVER sees the light of day again!”

Stellaria chuckled at the outburst, finding grim amusement in the situation. “Oh, that much is clear,” she spoke, her grin growing wider as she observed the raw determination in Alicia’s eyes. “I hope to work with you further, your majesty.”

[sins-of-the-sea]

“I think.... this uquiz....”

“....Swapped our archetypes.”

Which type of love interest would you be in a dating simulator?

The sarcastic fuckboy who secretely has a heart of gold

Upon first meeting you might seem insufferable, but it's only because you don't have time for what others might think of you. You're independent, confident, and you know what you want. That intimidates people, and you know it. But deep down you know it's all a show. You desire to be loved as much as any other person, but you don't want to get hurt and thus it's difficult for you to appear vulnerable to others. You'll try to mask your feelings with humor and aggressiveness when you feel someone might be getting too close to home. But those who have the patience to endure your cold exterior will be rewarded with the most caring and loyal person in their lives. You're the ride or die kind of type, and once you fall in love, you do it deeply and unconditionally.

The sweetheart with an enigmatic dark past

You're always polite and kind with others. That makes people feel comfortable around you and many would consider you a close friend. However, you seldom feel connected with those around you. You feel like they don't know you, the real you, and they never will because you'll never allow them. It takes a great amount of time and trust for you to show yourself as you truly are, because you repress most of your feelings and desires, and mask them with a calm and collected personalty. It just seems easier that way, safer. But remember that if you bottle everything up, it will explode one day, maybe in ways you aren't proud of.

“Wait, so Giovanni got ‘sarcastic fuckboy with the heart of gold’ and Guy and ‘sweetheart with the dark past’?! HOW??!?!?”

“No clue.”

“Either the quiz calculator is fucked up, or Immy is a shit writer.”

[rhymeswithfart]

Some old concept drawings of the Moebius version of the original FF (or in this case, Suppression Squad)

[anarchywoofwoof]

the funny thing is that i don't think younger people - and i mean those under the age of 40 - really have a grasp on how many of today's issues can be tied back to a disastrous reagan policy:

war on drugs: reagan's aggressive escalation of the war on drugs was a catastrophic policy, primarily targeting minority communities and fueling mass incarceration. the crusade against drugs was more about controlling the Black, Latino and Native communities than addressing the actual problems of drug abuse, leading to a legacy of broken families and systemic racism within the criminal justice system.

deregulation and economic policies: reaganomics was an absolute disaster for the working class. reagan's policies of aggressive tax cuts for the rich, deregulation, and slashing social programs were nothing less than class warfare, deepening income inequality and entrenching corporate greed. these types of policies were a clear message that reagan's america was only for the wealthy elite and a loud "fuck you" to working americans.

environmental policies: despite his reputation being whitewashed thanks to the recovery of the ozone layer, reagan's environmental record was an unmitigated disaster. his administration gutted critical environmental protections and institutions like the EPA, turning a blind eye to pollution and corporate exploitation of natural resources. this blatant disregard for the planet was a clear sign of prioritizing short-term corporate profits over the future of the environment.

AIDS crisis: reagan's gross neglect of the aids crisis was nothing short of criminal and this doesn't even begin to touch on his wife's involvement. his administration's indifference to the plight of the lgbtq+ community during this devastating epidemic revealed a deep-seated bigotry and a complete failure of moral leadership.

mental health: reagan's dismantling of mental health institutions under the guise of 'reform' led directly to a surge in homelessness and a lack of support for those with mental health issues. his policies were cruel and inhumane and showed a personality-defining callous disregard for the most vulnerable in society.

labor and unions: reagan's attack on labor unions, exemplified by his handling of the patco strike, was a blatant assault on workers' rights. his actions emboldened corporations to suppress union activities, leading to a significant erosion of workers' power and rights in the workplace. he was colloquially known as "Ronnie the Union Buster Reagan"

foreign policy and military interventions: reagan's foreign policy, particularly in latin america, was imperialist and ruthless. his administration's support for dictatorships and right-wing death squads under the guise of fighting "communism" showed a complete disregard for human rights and self-determination of other nations.

public health: yes, reagan's agricultural policies actually facilitated the rise of high fructose corn syrup, once again prioritizing corporate profits over public health. this shift in the food industry has had lasting negative impacts on health, contributing to the obesity epidemic and other health issues.

privatization: reagan's push for privatization was a systematic dismantling of public services, transferring wealth and power to private corporations and further eroding the public's access to essential services.

education policies: his approach to education was more of an attack on public education than anything else, gutting funding and promoting policies that undermined equal access to quality education. this was, again, part of a broader agenda to maintain a status quo where the privileged remain in power.

this is just what i could come up with in a relatively short time and i did not even live under this man's presidency. the level at which ronald reagan has broken the united states truly can't be overstated.