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: I told you I’d put up Chapter Seven right now. And I did! Review it or I swear I’ll kill you. This chapter’s more interesting.

Froggy: Cus there’s proper Rping in it.

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Chapter Seven: Deal With The Devil

“Deal,” was James’ reply.

She was right. He didn’t have a choice. Trying to fight would result in his death and the deaths of everyone in Knothole. Or robotization, which was worse. She also had a good point about striking from within. Infiltrating Robotnik’s operations by acting as one of his mercenaries was a brilliant idea that he had never really considered – the deception and coverup was not something he was comfortable with, and neither was association with the enemy. But he figured that he could make an exception this one time.

James radioed back to Knothole via the wrist-mounted communicator he kept with him and told Princess Sally to begin an emergency evacuation of Knothole Village; an attack from Robotnik’s forces was imminent. Thankfully, the freedom fighters had prepared for this scenario and had a fallback spot deeper in the forest. They would travel there and set up a temporary base until they could build something more permanent. It would be a major blow to moral to lose the near-legendary Knothole Village, but the lives of its inhabitants was a whole lot more important. Buildings could be rebuilt. People couldn’t.

And so, James Prower, Captain of the Royal Guard, joined with two of Robotnik’s mercenaries. He didn’t plan on turning against them as soon as the opportunity arose, even if it could save Knothole. He had given them his word, and to turn against it would be to throw away his honor. As he walked beside them quietly, his mind wandered back to the events that took place after his visit to the town prison. He had again visited the king’s hut and talked with the monarch…

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“My Lord,” James said as he bowed before King Max.

“James? What are you doing here? I would have expected you to be well on your mission by now.”

“I did leave, but I ran into…complications. A pair of Julian’s mercenaries, to be precise. It seems they were sent on a reconnaissance mission to locate Knothole. I managed to capture one and bring her back here, restrained, of course. She’s currently detained at the village prison.”

Max frowned and rubbed his chin, thinking about this new development.

“Did you question her, Captain?” the king asked.

“I did, sire, but I couldn’t get much out of her. At least, nothing about Robotnik’s operations or this new cult. Instead, I saw some rather… disturbing things.”

“What do you mean?”

“…She has been scarred, my lord. Horribly tortured. There are all kinds of terrible marks on her body, and there’s no question in my mind that someone made them with the intention of mutilation. I’ve never seen anything like it. She claims that you authorized the use of torture on her years ago and that either guardsmen or soldiers carried out the order.”

Max’s eyes widened as James said this.

“I would never authorize such a thing! You don’t actually believe her ridiculous claims, do you? I for one cannot believe that there would be men under your command who would even contemplate such a crime.”

“Of course not, my lord.”

“She must be lying, trying to throw you off your stride and gain your sympathy. Or perhaps she is insane. ‘Hired killer’ is hardly a career choice for the mentally stable.”

“But the wounds-“

“I have no doubt that if the insane want to harm themselves, they will find a way to do so.”

“Perhaps they were inflicted by others. Who knows what Julian could have done to her?”

“It doesn’t matter. Has she been properly dealt with?”

James raised one eyebrow curiously.

“Dealt with?”

“Come now, James. You know what must be done. She is a traitor to the kingdom, and there is only one punishment for traitors: Death.”

“…Are you saying I have to kill her?”

“That is exactly what I am saying. She must be put to death for her crimes. This is how it has always been. Are you really so surprised?”

“Sire… she surrendered to us. That makes her a prisoner of war.”

“A prisoner of war is a combatant of an opposing sovereign nation, and Robotnik and his followers hardly apply for such an honorable classification. She is a traitor and thusly, she must die. Why do you hesitate, James? It is unlike you. You have executed Robotnik’s mercenaries on the battlefield before. Why is she any different?”

James shook his head, confused, a sick feeling rising up in his stomach.

“I can’t just walk into a cell and kill an unarmed woman who surrendered to us… that’s not execution; it’s murder! There’s no honor in it-”

“I understand, my friend, but you must do this. Do not feel guilty about ending her life; she would do the same to you. Letting her live would just result in the death of more brave freedom fighters. Do you want that on your conscience? Please, James… execute her, for all our sakes.”

“Y-yes, my lord. …At once.”

~~~

He never got the chance to fulfill that order, and now that she had spared his life, he didn’t think he could. Although she might see things otherwise, James believed that he still owed the feline. After all, he had been ordered to kill her; and she had just spared so many lives. Surely she realized the full meaning of what she had done, of the repercussions from Robotnik if her treachery was discovered…

Was it possible that he had done something for her without knowing it? It was the only explanation for her actions.

Did those actions redeem her from her crimes? No, they did not, but the vulpine couldn’t look at her in quite the same way. She wasn’t just some heartless hired gun. She was a person with a past. With hopes and dreams and some sort of moral sense, even if it was crippled and twisted by years of being a mercenary for Robotnik. Disobeying a royal order went against everything he had ever been taught since childhood, but he had to. Because he couldn’t stab her in the back.

These troubled thoughts ran through James’ mind as he stared into the campfire the small group had made. The three of them had found a small, dry cave to stay in for the night. It was a long way to Robotropolis, and they weren’t going anywhere in the storm, so they had to wait it out. Nack and the feline had prepared for such an event and had their own sleeping bags to rest in. James, having run after them with only his uniform and sword, didn’t have such a luxury. It was no big deal to him, though. He had slept in worse conditions.

Nack was already fast asleep, snoring a little too loudly. His female companion, though, was wide awake, like the guardsman. The two mercenaries were probably going to sleep in shifts, just in case James tried to betray them. James himself knew that they had nothing to fear from him, but he took no offense from precautions they took because of him. James was sitting in his own corner of the cave looking into the fire. The vulpine had always liked fire. The way it flickered and moved. The crackle of burning wood and the sparks that took off like little fireflies. Fire was alive, and it had a power over him, a disturbing ability to mesmerize him. Soon enough, though, James’ attention shifted from his troubled thoughts and the glow of the fire to the feline that had spared him.

James looked over at the cat, whose fur seemed so much darker in the shadows of the cave. The firelight almost made her eyes glow, reflecting in them in that uniquely feline way. She was a shadow, a dark reflection from the rippled surface of his mind. Lightning flashed outside the cave, illuminating the cave for a moment, transforming her once again into mortal flesh and blood. There was a sort of primal beauty there, but like the primal, also dangerous, predatory, uncontrolled. Yet he also sensed fragility, like that of fine glass crystal. Which was the mask and which was her true face? He shook his head, tossing such frivolous thoughts aside. Finally, he spoke, breaking the long silence.

“…Thank you.”

“For what?” the cat asked, looking up, surprised that he had spoken at all.

“For sparing my life. For giving Knothole a chance to evacuate.”

Her expression and body language was difficult to read, but she seemed unsure of how to take his thanks. She probably didn’t hear praise or gratitude very often.

“Oh… well… I was just paying you back as fast as possible. I hate owing people favours,” she said.

The cynical side of James, which he rarely showed to the world, whispered, “Sure she is…” in his mind. Oh, he was sure that she did it to repay the favor, but there was more to it than that. He saw it in her hunted expression, in the way she fought him so desperately in the rain. There was a far deeper reason for her helping him, something secret, something that she wasn’t going to tell willingly. He kept his thoughts to himself and nodded slowly.

“I see. But still… I never caught your name.”

“Heh… I changed it when I started working for Buttnik. Everyone calls me Breech Loader. Or Breech for short. Except Robotnik.”

The cynical side of James chuckled, noting how absolutely perfect a name it was for a bounty hunter. Relating to violence with a cool ring to it. It also mused that he should have thought of it first. James shut the cynical voice up; he didn’t feel like putting up with it. He knew her alias, her chosen name. It was only the name of her mask, but it gave him something to call her.

“I never thought I’d ever say this to a bounty hunter, but it is a pleasure to meet you, Breech,” the guardsman said, smiling and offering a paw.

“That’s nice,” Breech replied, looking at his paw and making no move towards it.

Feeling a tad uncomfortable, James drew his paw back. It was time to change topics.

“Out of curiosity, how did you get the metal insides, and how much of you is mechanical?” he asked her.

Breech smiled, but James wasn’t sure what kind it was: a genuine happy smile, a forced smile, or a sinister smile. It was hard to tell in the firelight.

“None of me is actually robotic... but about a year after I started working for Robotnik... well, I volunteered for some metal implants. It was that or genetic enhancements, and call me old-fashioned if you like, but I’d rather not associate with scientists whose idea of making people run faster is having them grow an extra six legs.”

She chuckled, and continued, “Anyway, almost all of my bones have been replaced with metal duplicates. It took months for my body to become strong enough to move normally with them, let alone do back-flips.”

James absently rubbed his jaw, remembering quite clearly just how hard she could land a punch.

“Well, that explains how you managed to slug me so hard.”

“That’s nothing. Thanks to the implants, I can kick a SWATbot’s head off,” The feline paused for a moment and then spoke again, asking something that had been on her mind, “So… how’d you wind up a cyborg?”

James had been expecting the question and was prepared to answer. He looked down at his paw, flexing his fingers, remembering the painful details, “I didn’t volunteer for it. I was forced into the roboticizer during the coup.”

“I guessed that,” she said, “But… you’re… you know… squidgy again. How’d that happen?”

“Someone in Robotnik’s operation doesn’t want the fat man to come out on top in this war. So the insider set me free and modified me to be more organic. It’s an experimental second stage to the robotization process,” he replied with a smirk.

“Looks like it worked pretty well on you.”

“Yeah… it has. My mechanical side has served me well in this war, although there are some drawbacks. I can’t go for a swim anymore; I sink like a rock.”

Breech smiled slightly, and this time, it felt more genuine to the fox.

“I couldn’t swim even before I had the implants. It’s a cat thing, you know? I just panic if the water’s much deeper than my knees.”

James chuckled, knowing all too well.

“Yeah, I understand. We had a few cats in the Guard, and every single one of them bitched about the aquatic training incessantly.”

At the mere mention of the Royal Guard, Breeched rubbed the back of her head, suddenly looking very awkward.

“I guess I should warn you, in case you meet anyone you thought you knew. There are some… ex-royal guards in Robotnik’s service. New identities, new skills, new weapons, like me. But they have a tendency to keep the sword and the armour, even if Robotnik doesn’t let them wear it unless it’s for a mission.”

James’ smile disappeared, “Really?”

“Yeah.”

James again looked into the fire.

“…Maybe they are doing what I am doing. Trying to cause damage from within…”

Breech patted James’ shoulder, almost kindly.

“Hey, I’m sure I’m not the only treacherous whore in Robotnik’s service. Lots of his employees wish they had a chance to work for someone else.”

The feline was trying to comfort him in her own way, and for that, James was thankful. The thought of guardsmen helping Robotnik, though… it sent a shiver down his spine, and he suddenly felt much more tired than before. He slowly nodded and looked out of the cave at the storm still raging.

“I hope you are right… We should probably get some sleep. Big day tomorrow.”

Breech nodded and drew away from him once again.

“I hope you’ve worked out a good story for Robotnik.”

“It should hold up,” James assured her, confident in his plan, “Oh…and if it makes you feel any safer…”

James drew his sword and slid it across the stone cave to her.

“What? What’re you giving that to me for?” she questioned him.

“To try and reassure you that I won’t stab you in your sleep.”

Breech smiled dryly. “Well, that’s one way you are not going to kill me. I know of seventeen ways to kill a sleeping person without using a weapon.”

James didn’t even know that there were seventeen different ways.

“You have a point. But it’s one less way.”

Breech kicked the weapon back to him, “Thanks…but no thanks. It’d probably give me nightmares anyway…”

James paused, shrugged, and then sheathed the weapon. He wondered if the feline knew anything about the importance of a guardsman’s sword… He curled up on the floor and closed his eyes.

“Yeah, me too… Goodnight, Breech.”

A puzzled expression showed up in Breech’s eyes, “What-“

James interrupted her, “Oh, and Nack? You need to breathe a little slower.”

The weasel, who had merely been pretending to be asleep, inhaled sharply and rolled onto his side, facing away from James. The guardsman tried to get some sleep, and he received it… although it was filled with nightmares, as usual.

Breech remained sitting in her sleeping bag, and watched the fire until it dwindled to embers.

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End of Chapter Seven

Harley: Yay! Two chapters up at once! Aren't I great?!