At The End Of The Tunnel

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At The End Of The Tunnel

Co-Written by Harley Quinn hyenaholic and Froggy22651

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Harley: Yay! We’re so great!

Breech: I don’t see how me having a sick past is great.

Harley: But that’s the best part! I love writing about sex, and you love having sex, so we should be getting along just great!

Breech: Nuh-uh. I know the kind of sex you write about. I’m not having anything more to do with this.

Harley: Too late! Here’s Chapter Four!

Breech: Oh, crap!

Harley: And what the hell happened to people reviewing? Get reviewing or I bash you!

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Chapter Four: Fresh Air Gives Me Cramp

Breech and Nack walked through the trees of the Great Forest.

If anyone had been watching them from the treetops - well, they would have been shot. But if they had survived being shot, and hadn't had anything of use to the pair, and Breech hadn't been tetchy, and they had been able the struggle out of the ropes they'd been tied up in, and made it back to civilisation, they would have mentioned that there was something interesting about the way the odd pair moved.

Nack walked with the confident swagger of a young man who expected someone to leap out and attack, and knew they'd be dead before they hit the ground if they tried it. Breech practically oozed over the ground, like someone who didn't want to be seen, despite the fact the day was bright and there were few shadows to hide in.

But they never looked at each other. Breech would have said that if you were gazing into your, aha, 'lover's' eyes, you didn't know whether someone less loving was gazing at your back.

"Six days," said Breech, lamentably, "Six days. Six days to do what Robotnik couldn't do in ten years."

"Or we die," agreed Nack, "I don't suppose you have any ideas?"

Breech thought, "We could die," she said, "Or we could pray, but I'm told that the gods don't like people like me. There's always The Lady and Her daughters, of course. Six days."

Nack shrugged, "We have six days before we die," he said simply, "This is a death mission. Robotnik sent us on it so that we'd die, or so that he could kill us for returning empty handed. Although we could try for-"

"Don't even suggest it," answered Breech, her ears twitching.

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James stopped moving as soon as he heard the pair. Mercenaries of Robotnik's were heading his way. And they had a deadline. It was Nack the Weasel and some feline accomplice. Perhaps she was a partner of his. Nack wore his usual gloves, shoes, a belt, and his trademark Stetson. Apart from his handgun in a holster, he seemed to be unarmed. The cat wore a loose black leather jacket and under that, tight red leather top and leggings. She wore no gloves, and her shoes were just slip on sandals with only a very short heel. No weapons were on show, which meant that they were all hidden.

He pulled the hood of his cloak over his face.

"I was just saying we could. He'd know how to make... you know."

"I said, don't even suggest it," Breech repeated. There was an uncomfortable pause, as they walked on. As ever, Breech's mind filled up with images of chains, and blood, and screams, and the three words that were now the greatest lie of all. She fiddled with the dog tags hanging around her neck, the symbol of her slavery. Almost all of Robotnik's servants had them.

After a while, she spoke again, "You heard of those new cultists Robotnik's hiring?"

"Yeah - you know Breech, one of them told me that I was an abomination."

"Yeah, well... they say that about most things. Said it about me. Hypocrites, the lot of them. I bet it's more than a few zany implants they want. You got that map?"

James assessed the cat. She looked like a fighter, her entire posture set to that 'fight or flight' stance so easily recognisable in any warrior.

Nack held up a piece of paper, "Rofatface gave me one. With lots of green," he said, turning it several ways around. Whichever way he looked at it, they were still lost.

Breech tilted her head to one side, "Hmm... Yeah..." she stepped forward, "Nack..."

"Yeah?"

"Your safety off?"

Nack nodded.

I can hear somebody trying to be quiet, Breech thought.

Breech nodded. Now to draw out the listener, "You know, I've always thought of Max as a total asswipe," she said loudly, then more softly, "Come on out, lil' terrorist, I know you're listening."

James realised he'd been caught. He drew his broadsword and stepped forward out of the greenery, "By the authority of the Royal Guard of King Maximillian, I place you two under arrest as traitors and-"

Breech's eyes narrowed, then her lips curled into a sneer. According to Nack, she had at least 150 finely tuned ways of sneering. This one looked like #68, You Are Scum, "Oh, no, it's the Royal Guard! The Royal Guard is out to get me!" she mocked him.

"Stop that!" James snapped at her.

"You may have just saved our lives, Royal Guard," snarled Breech, "Although you've shortened your own considerably. Leave him to me, Nack!"

She reached into her belt and pulled out a metal bar about three feet long. She twisted it, and it extended another three feet with a click. She flourished the metal quarterstaff, and James just had time to wonder why a servant of Robotnik's would bother to engage him in a fair, one on one fight before she was upon him.

She was a much better fighter than James had first suspected, with speed and agility to match. Furthermore, he was not greatly experienced with fighting staffs and staves.

"You fight almost as well as a man," James complimented her grimly as they pulled apart for a moment.

"Funny, I was about to say the same thing about you!" Breech retorted, and lunged again. The staff thudded into James' side. She flicked a switch. James couldn't help but scream as a jolt of electricity raced through him, immobilizing him and forcing him to drop his sword.

"Hey, that was only set on number 3!" James could hear her snarl again through the clouds of pain, "What's with this bastard?"

Nack stepped forward and ripped the hood away from James' face, "That's no ordinary bastard! That's James Prower, Captain of the Royal Guard!"

"Woo-hoo! We hit the jackpot!" Breech and Nack high-fived, then she turned back to James, "Now let's kill him and cut him up for organs! You can have his liver!"

"No, the faster we get out of here, the better. Fresh air gives me cramp. We can get some neat information out of him. I bet he knows where Knothole is! With a little torture, he'll sing like a bird. Then I'll take his liver."

Breech growled, "My ass we can! He's the Captain! He won't give us info like some normal scum might. I won't let you stop me from killing him!"

"Fine, but when you go into withdrawal, don't blame me."

James could feel the excess electrical energy within him rerouting... reorganising itself. His paw closed around the hilt of his sword, and he growled softly, "The cat's right, Nack, I'll never talk."

"See?" Breech lifted her staff to bring it down on James' head, and he swung up, knocking it out of her paws and her to the ground. She scrambled to her feet and found James' sword angled at her throat.

"Damn!" Nack snarled, and ran for it.

"You even betray your own comrades," James commented, "Come quietly and you won't be hurt."

Breech glared balefully at James, "I know Maximillian's standard procedure for 'traitors'," she snarled, "If the end result is the same, why shouldn't I fight back?" she asked him. She suddenly flipped backwards, and all her claws slid out, about an inch long. Claws don't make a noise when they slide out, but they ought to, something like *tzing*. James noted the glint of metal there. Now he knew why she didn't wear trainers - this way, a kick in the stomach wouldn't just knock him back; it would disembowel him too.

Then she gripped his shoulders, digging her claws into his flesh, and cracked her skull against his. She stepped backwards, blinking, "You should be unconcious by now," she snarled, "You must be a freakin' cyborg!"

"So are you," James pointed out. How else could the feline have remained upright?

Breech snarled and slashed out at his face, making three neat cuts on his cheek. James yelped in pain, and struck her in the face, knocking her down. She gasped, and started to stand again, but he was ready, having picked up the quarterstaff.

"Like I said," James repeated, resting his sword and the quarterstaff against her throat, "You're under arrest."

Breech shuddered, "Bastard..." she whispered.

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End of Chapter Four

Harley: If you read it, review it. Come on, I want to know what you think!