PROLOGUE
Incredible technology.
For machines to marvel at machines took some doing. The Nemesis were, after all, a blend of two distinct time periods. Their internal systems were driven by cogs and gears. Just as one found behind the face of an antique watch, so it was behind their neon-daubed masks. And in contrast, circuitry grew like weeds in whatever space remained. It made no noise. Not like the clicking of the older mechanisms.
They were haphazard. Refurbished. Upgraded to stay alive.
Not like this.
This technology was singular. Crafted with skill and precision. Fused with organic elements in the ultimate harmony. It had survived the obliteration of the Black Comet. Stayed intact as it burned through the atmosphere. Rested in the bottom of an impact crater. And yet, despite such a dramatic existence, it still functioned perfectly.
How it exactly worked remained a mystery to the Nemesis. For all the combined processing power of their number, a meagre visual analysis would never be enough to expose the secrets of the Black Arms technology.
And taking it apart was out of the question.
Regardless, understanding the intricate methodology of alien advancement was not high on their agenda. It had served a purpose. Kept them away from GUN surveillance. Gotten them to the base of the volcano inside and below which rested the expansive GUN facility. Hidden the true count of their comrades. All that remained was to deactivate it, discard it, and fail to thank it for such service.
The initial three Nemesis that had stormed the perimeter observation post were soon joined by further of their kind. Seven more marched through what remained of the exploded door in rigid formation. The first ten.
Then another ten.
And another.
And another.
Soon, there was barely enough freedom to move. All the while, a pair of Nemesis worked at the security console. The internal security console.
Just when no more Nemesis could fit, they found success. “Cameras disabled.”
“On how many levels?”
“The first four. I shall continue as you advance through the facility.” In unison, the bank of monitors which usually displayed live feeds from outside changed. They now showed a maze of tunnels, corridors and elevator shafts. Some went upwards and fit neatly into the shape of the defunct volcano above. Others spread downwards, like the roots of a tree. “Our objectives are located here,” it was pointed out, “and here.”
Forty faceless masks soaked in every detail of the maze. Each corner and level downloaded to an unforgettable memory.
And then forty hands unleashed forty handguns. Loaded and ready.
“Begin.”
ACT ONE
Oblivious to the developing invasion, Shadow the Hedgehog sat comfortably in the private office of Captain Stone. Having long since rejected any further coffee, their conversation had progressed further. It now stretched down an ever-widening path of themes. No longer was it all about specifics.
“What’s your objection to the RPM, anyway?” Stone was asking.
“It is an indiscriminate weapon.” Shadow closed his tired eyes and shook his head. “Having been one of those myself, I know them to be wrong.”
The GUN second-in-command rose to straighten his back. Uniform tunic stretched against his musculature. “Well, that surprises me,” he told the hedgehog. “I would have thought you of all people to be supportive.”
“How so?”
“You kill, that’s how,” came the ugly truth. “An entire train of Nemesis, wiped out by your use of Chaos Control. And don’t tell me you couldn’t have saved the pilot of the Night Hawk from dying in that crash.” Stone felt confident with this current line. Emphatically, he started to illustrate his words with gestures. “Look, I know you don’t feel great about being used as a weapon... but now that you’re powerless, can’t you see the need for things like the RPM? Is it not justified to build such tools? To fight such evil?”
Shadow, again, felt his head shake involuntarily in denial. “No. Whenever I kill, I make the decision. I don’t wipe out entire races. I don’t dismiss entire denominations, nor racially write them off as enemies.”
“You sound like you know what you’re talking about.”
“I do. It was a mistake I made, once before.” Stone was fixed with a penetrating stare. “In creating Project: RPM, did you even stop to consider that there might be an innocent sentient machine?”
The captain caught his protest mid-throat. “Let me guess... you know one?”
“And what about the lives of your own soldiers?” Shadow dodged identifying his robotic friend and stepped up his attack.
“There will always be side effects to any weapon,” was the argument. “No conflict is ideal for either side involved. Thankfully, we good guys have no shortage of heroes. People willing to make the ultimate sacrifice for the cause. Those who test-fired the original RPM, who were exposed to that lethal radiation, were examples.”
Shadow saw his chance. “And what about yourself?”
It was the debate-ending question. Captain Stone was a man of the future. A man living in his ambition. To throw such dreams and desires away, before fulfilling them, was impossible for one so driven.
Unthinkable for one so selfish.
“Well,” he spluttered. “I think we should get back to work, don’t you?”
Nothing had been resolved.
Okay, they had exposed the traitor from the ranks of GUN. Fair enough. And they had the identity of Mighty the Armadillo. It was a start. But in reality, when viewing the fight against the Nemesis overall, nothing had really been resolved. They were still at large. Still a potent threat to society. Still plotting to use whatever they had unearthed from the Black Comet, in whatever way it worked. Still out there.
Yet relief still washed over the Commander like the morning tide.
It was being disarmed of responsibility that caused it. He had been balanced on a tightrope of morality so high; a fall would have been fatal. Fatal to his career. And then those with only inexperience would have taken over as leader.
Those like Captain Stone.
But now, everything was alright. The President had made a judgement call. The right call. It changed the entire situation in seconds. Project: RPM was over. Of course, there was a fight that still needed to be fought. But it would be done so properly. Justly. By those deserving of victory and praise.
Rotating his central chair, the Commander gazed around the curved walls of the Bullpen. In constant light, the towering plasma screens shone back at him.
They gave inspiration. Keep working. Regardless of the hour. Keep fighting.
A white leather glove thumbed a speaker embedded in the armrest of his chair. Time to end the night shift a little early. Shake things up. “Perimeter observation, this is your commander speaking. Report in.”
No reply.
“Come on,” the old soldier growled. “No slacking! Report in!”
Still no reply.
Resurgence of mood slightly deflated by such tardiness, the Commander spun towards one of the few analysts still on duty. “Lieutenant?”
“Checking now, sir,” the officer pre-empted the order. “I read no lifesigns coming from the perimeter observation post. Sensors also indicate that the outer door has been opened... sorry, wait... sir, there is no outer door!”
No reply from the post. No lifesigns, either.
And no door.
“Damn it! They’re here!” The Commander lurched forward. “Intruder Alert!”
Empty coffee cups smashed to the floor.
The specific alarm tone for an Intruder Alert was designed to have an impact comparable to being punched in the face. It broke through everything to shake panic into even the toughest of souls. Leaping to their feet, both Shadow the Hedgehog and Captain Stone reacted exactly as designed.
“What is it?!” the hedgehog roared, half-deaf.
“Intruder Alert!” Stone yelled back at him, realising the last drill was carried out before his recent enlistment as an agent.
Moving swiftly, the GUN second-in-command dove behind his desk. Returning with a pair of pre-loaded 9mm handguns, he threw one to Shadow and kept the other for himself. Three seconds later and they were at the door.
It slid aside as usual. Stone ducked and went left. Shadow mirrored the move. Both covered one another. Guns swept at the curved chrome surfaces. The strobe lighting that ran in strips along the floor had turned a menacing shade of red. After the first thirty screams, the volume of the Intruder Alert klaxon lowered to a background level. It allowed normal speech. Tactics had to be developed. Orders had to be given. An enemy had to be repelled, and not by sheer noise alone.
“I thought so,” Shadow hissed, lowering his pistol.
Stone dashed back to stand beside him. “Thought what, exactly?”
“It’s the Nemesis. They tried to kill Mighty in his apartment. If he is acting as their guide, and is no longer required...”
“...then they’re ready to make their final move.”
The hedgehog stared up at his reluctant colleague. They were hardly the prime selection to stand shoulder-to-shoulder against the Nemesis. So much history. So much hostility. Perhaps too much to work effectively together, as a previous mission had managed to prove. But as heavy footsteps came reverberating down the corridor towards them, metal on metal, Shadow was just grateful not to be alone.
“This is it!”
ACT TWO
The perimeter observation post seemed hollow. After having been the focal point for such a number of Nemesis, it now rested, home to only two of the robotic terrorists. They worked at the monitors and consoles. Machines using machines. Hacking. Bypassing. Opening up and closing down. Anything that helped the progress of their comrades.
Another task had briefly occupied their time since arrival. It was a small detail, but a crucial one. The tragic pair of GUN corpses had been secreted within a storage locker. Not a trace of them remained on display.
It was for the benefit of the last to arrive.
Leaving the breaking dawn behind, Mighty the Armadillo entered the GUN facility flanked by another pair of Nemesis. Discomfort looked to the twisted remains of the door frame, but relief spread across his face as he saw no bodies littering the floor. He was still divided by the torture of self-doubt. Still confused as to the reality of his allegiance. But, ultimately, he still believed strongly in their cause, too.
Having found no battleground waiting for him, and still having yet to see a Nemesis wield a weapon, he allowed himself to nurture some hope.
“Progress,” the pacifist asked of those at the monitors. “How goes it?”
Blank masks turned to answer. “All according to plan thusfar. We have overloaded internal security cameras throughout ninety per-cent of the facility. Our comrades have gained access to all major access points required.”
“Good work,” Mighty forced a smile. “And the barracks?”
“As you requested, we have fused the doors. They are locked down and isolated.”
There were rapid nods of approval. “Nicely done!”
It was part of his conditions for helping the Nemesis undertake such a daring protest. There were hundreds of GUN soldiers living within the subterranean facility. If they had woken to find intruders wandering the corridors, a slaughter would soon have followed. By locking all the doors to all the barracks, the innocent men and women who wanted nothing more than to serve the United Federation were protected. Not from the Nemesis, who Mighty still believed to be unarmed... no. Rather, from themselves. From their training. From any orders that could include violence.
The tactics of a peaceful mind.
Unbeknownst to their creator, they suited the true intention of the Nemesis rather neatly. In any other scenario processed by their computerised brains, a direct confrontation with the full force of the GUN facility ended badly. By trapping the troops within their barracks, it saved ammunition. Kept the final loss to a minimum. In the end, they would all die anyway, so why hurry their fate?
“We should advance to the Research Core immediately,” one of the indistinguishable lumps of leather beside Mighty coaxed.
Scepticism knotted the brow of the armadillo. They were dangerously close to manhandling him. At over double his height, they used size and intimidation to direct him towards the rest of the GUN facility. Each step jostled him further and further out of the room. Further away from the nerve centre of their invasion.
One final glance was given towards the wreckage of the door. There was something about it that held his attention. Something the Nemesis did not want him to see. But it was merely a door, was it not? A necessary loss. Not one to be mourned.
Nothing special.
Only in the last fraction of a second did Mighty realise the source of their anxiety.
When he registered the tiny splashes of blood on the metal debris.
Their reflections in the chrome corridor walls seemed to dance, glowing as they were in the sinister shade of red alert lights.
Shadow spun back to take cover around a corner. On the opposite side of the junction, fury overtook training as Captain Stone unleashed round after round from his sidearm. Each of the searing bullets zoomed down from whence they had come... towards the persistent marching line of Nemesis.
The GUN second-in-command was yelling as he fired. Finally the last shot left the gun. His training returned as uniformed shoulders met arching chrome safety. “Reloading!” he shouted across to Shadow.
Picking up his cue, the hedgehog poked pistol and head back into the fight. The first several bullets pinged harmlessly from leather and armour. Chains jangled under the impacts. All the same, the Nemesis continued to march towards them. Nothing but a direct hit would succeed in making one fall. Shadow squinted and took a more careful aim. His next two attacks were better. One shattered a neon-daubed mask. The other blew out a neck in a shower of cogs and wires. Both Nemesis crumpled.
“Two down!” he called out as he returned to cover.
“Oh, great,” Stone cynically retorted. “Only, what, ninety-eight to go?”
Gunfire interrupted them. It echoed around the corridor junction. Smashed into lights. Put dents in the polished floor. Shadow recoiled, all too aware of his lack of power. All too aware of his vulnerability.
“Where are the reinforcements?” he asked his superior.
Stone shook his head. “I’ve no idea,” he admitted. “The Nemesis must’ve locked down the barracks to limit any resistance!”
“No,” Shadow replied. “It would have been Mighty. To prevent a slaughter.”
“Who cares? Either way, we’re pretty much screwed without backup!” Gunfire eased for a brief moment. Stone used the chance to pivot and open fire. He managed half a dozen shots, all of which missed causing significant damage, before being forced back into protection. “In any case,” he continued, “we’re not going to last long fighting them like this! We need proper strategy if we’re going to win!”
Hedgehog waited for human. For once, he would defer to authority.
“Get to the Bullpen,” the captain ordered his agent. “It’s the most secure place in the entire facility. We’ll make a stand from there. Find the Commander and protect him there. Don’t let the Nemesis break in!”
Shadow nodded. “And you...?”
“I’m going to the barracks, to unlock the doors and get as many troops as possible! If things go badly, seal the Bullpen without me! Go, now!”
With a final flurry of bullets, they retreated from the advancing enemy.
And parted ways.
Charmy Bee was awake. And unhappy.
The loud and sudden klaxon heralding an Intruder Alert had startled him from resting atop the shoulders of his boss. Even with the reduced volume after thirty sounds, it still drew focus as an annoyance to the six year old detective. He was currently buzzing around the speaker in the lofty heights of the Research Core, wondering whether his stinger would be enough to rip it apart and silence it for good.
Keeping cooler heads, yet still alarmed, Vector the Crocodile and Espio the Chameleon put on brave faces as they talked with the lead developer. She, however, was distracted every few seconds by a worried colleague or soldier’s advice.
“Look, the computers are all down,” she was telling the members of Team Chaotix. “I can’t tell you anything even if I wanted to, okay?”
Vector asked anyway. “No cameras? No sensors, no nothin’...?”
“No! They’re all disabled!”
With grave concern, Espio pulled his crocodile colleague aside. “It has to be the Nemesis,” he deduced. “Which means Mighty will be with them. They’re coming for the RPM. From a machine’s perspective, it represents the ultimate threat, and Mighty spoke of wanting equality for the Nemesis. They want to destroy it.”
“Yeah, but we’re already tryin’ to destroy it!” Vector exclaimed.
“Mighty doesn’t know that. We have to find him and tell him, quickly, before anybody gets hurt... or worse.”
“Okay,” the boss agreed, lifting his snout upwards. “Charmy! C’mon!”
The trio united and headed for the door.
And then froze in shock.
Beyond the frosted glass, illuminated from behind, stood a single silhouette. The distorted suggestion of an arm reached out to alter the opacity controls. The door faded to transparency and revealed a face.
The face of Mighty the Armadillo.
ACT THREE
Team Chaotix were instantly divided by the lead developer. She surged forth between them, pushing crocodile and chameleon aside. Resting on the white shoulder of her laboratory coat was one of the latest creations produced by the Research Core. It was large. Boxy. Seeing one such as her operate it was almost comical.
It was a rocket launcher.
And she was aiming it directly at the door.
“Stand back, guys,” she warned against her sudden character shift. An eye flared with panic took aim through spectacles and sights. “This thing can get a little rough! I’d cover your ears if I were you!”
Charmy screamed.
Vector lunged at the lead developer. Powerful claws, hidden by gloves, seized the rocket launcher. Before she could react or fire, he pushed on the side of the almighty weapon. It flew left, aiming for Espio. The ninja accurately threw a kunai straight down the barrel. Rendered it jammed and therefore useless. Overwhelmed by confusion, the lead developer dropped it to the floor. Only her newfound fighting spirit remained.
“What are you thinking?!” she blurted angrily at Team Chaotix.
“Y’know that old friend we told ya about?” Vector growled at her. “Well, that’s him, on the other side of the door!”
Espio kicked the defunct rocket launcher aside. “And we don’t want him dead.”
“Even if he’s the enemy?!”
Charmy took centre stage, swooping down so close as to flutter her hair in the breeze from his wings. “He isn’t the enemy! He’s just confused! We’re going to save him, and then we’ll all be friends again! Just you wait, you’ll see!”
“Er, speakin’ of which,” Vector then interrupted, “where’d he go?”
Together, the four looked back towards the glass door. Mighty had vanished.
Then it slid quietly aside.
And a small metallic ball rolled inside.
The lead developer called it a fraction too late. “Stun grenade! Everybody down!”
Sneakers blazed with jets of flame. They burned twin snakes of black deep into the corridor surface. Betraying his route.
Not that it mattered. The Nemesis were following him regardless. Maps. It had to be maps, downloaded into their computerised minds. They were heading to the Bullpen, just as he was, to seize control of the GUN facility. Maybe even assassinate the Commander. He scowled as he accelerated his speed.
Beat them to it. Lock it down. Defend it.
Protect it.
With no bullets to spare, Shadow the Hedgehog tore around the innards of the subterranean base. After what seemed like an eternity, he was throwing himself through the entrance to his objective. Pace slowed dramatically. Nevertheless, he still nearly collided with a workstation, such was his urgency. Not that it would have mattered. As he took stock, Shadow noticed not a single light came from any of the extensive plasma screens.
“Damn,” he whispered, “not here!”
“Yep, they’ve got us badly,” the GUN Commander hissed through gritted teeth as he stood over the latest arrival. Scattered officers, agents and soldiers had all converged on the Bullpen as a safe haven... unaware that the Nemesis had managed to isolate all circuits and cut power ahead of their conquest. “At least you’re still alive.”
Shadow regained some composure and caught his breath. “Stone sent me here to lock down and protect the Bullpen,” he relayed.
“Oh, we can shut the doors,” the Commander replied. “Just not lock them.”
“Then we’ll guard them instead. Do you have weapons?”
“Not enough.”
Commotion came from the corridor outside. What pistols and rifles were present all rose to meet whatever was incoming. There were only a half dozen men. Fewer guns. It was hardly a fair fighting force.
By some degree of mercy, it was not the Nemesis. Not yet.
Captain Stone dashed into the Bullpen. He immediately slapped the control panel beside the entrance. Heavy barriers came thundering down.
But they failed to form a seal. Stone hit the control panel again. “What the...?”
“It’s no use!”
The captain glared up at the older officer. “What do you mean, sir?”
“We’re powerless,” informed a severe tone.
Shadow walked up to the cold steel which now separated Bullpen from corridor. Separated the Nemesis from their goal. A gloved hand rested against it. A pointed ear leaned close. For a while, he heard nothing but his own racing pulse. And then the dull, distant sound of metal boots marching ever-closer.
“I take it you failed to unlock the barracks?” the hedgehog asked of Stone.
“No, I’ve got hundreds of soldiers right here, to save all our butts from getting shot,” came unadulterated sarcasm. “Of course I failed, you idiot!”
The Commander took a deep breath. “Then we make our stand here.”
“Our final stand?”
It was Shadow with the answer. “We’ll see.”
Incredulity dawned on Mighty the Armadillo. “What do you think you’re doing?!”
No response.
They had entered the Research Core in the wake of the stun grenade as an army of seven. In transit to the laboratory, four more Nemesis had joined the flanking pair of escorts. None had shown any behaviour different from what Mighty had come to expect... stoic and intimidating but not at all dangerous or volatile.
Until now. One expressionless machine had reached out to a nearby table and selected an experimental plasma rifle. He was pointing at their prisoners, amongst which sat the stunned trio of Team Chaotix detectives.
“Put that down!” the armadillo protested further, moving forward. “The moment we pick up a weapon, we become one of them!”
The Nemesis gave him no sign of acknowledgement.
Mighty started to back away. He edged closer and closer to the broiling, bottomless pit that yawned at the centre of the cavern. Realisation. It was a horrible thing. All the little clues had come together. He should have known... damn it, he should have known! He was in too much denial before. Too much blind faith. It all sounded too good to be true. Friends. Allies. Those who shared his values. Who were strong enough to make a difference. Take a stand. Strike a blow for equality. For justice.
Panic gripped his very soul as he wheeled towards the other Nemesis. They had all reached into compartments and cavities hidden inside their metal bodies. All now brandished various types of handgun.
Espio the Chameleon regained his senses just in time to watch the betrayal.
“This isn’t happening!” Mighty was whispering in shock. “This is some kind of joke, it has to be! Isn’t it?”
“You have served your purpose,” one Nemesis told him bluntly.
The pacifist shook his head. “My purpose...?”
Then he looked to Espio. His old friend. His former colleague. He looked deep into the eyes of the ninja chameleon and yet more realisation hammered home like blunt force trauma. His stomach did a backflip.
“Join them,” the Nemesis ordered. The handgun was waved in encouragement.
Mighty glanced backwards. At the pit.
At the only escape from such a nightmare. The only escape... right?
Espio stopped him. “Don’t.”
“But... this is all my fault... what have I done? What else can I do?”
“You can fix it,” came calm reassurance. “We can fix it.”
A torrent of emotions flooded through the armadillo. It was true. If the fault was his, so was the responsibility to correct it. The easy option was not the right one. Gratitude overwhelmed the duplicity of the Nemesis. Here sat an old friend. A defeated friend. Reaching out to him in support. Offering assistance in spite of... well, everything. It was an incredible gesture. Not to be turned down.
With slow steps, Mighty the Armadillo rejoined Team Chaotix.
In defeat.
But finally doing the right thing.
EPILOGUE
Black and crimson spines bristled in anticipation.
And then the heavy entrance to the Bullpen exploded inward. Officers and agents shielded themselves from the blast. In doing so, they lost any advantage. Before they could spin back to confront the conquest of their command centre, the Nemesis were inside. Lines of them, all marching to a steady internal beat, streamed in like cracks spreading through glass. Any who foolishly showed token resistance were beaten down. There was no fight to speak of. It was not a battle in any sense.
It was a walkover. A foregone conclusion.
The Nemesis owned the GUN facility.
Shadow struggled with his temper and desire to lash out. Were it not for his powerless state, he would have annihilated the force of robotic terrorists in a heartbeat. As it was, he offered nothing more than the poor men and women that had already been effortlessly destroyed by the artificial strength on display. Tragically, the Ultimate Lifeform was no more. Just another hedgehog.
Just another bystander.
Those other GUN that survived collected around the central chair. Captain Stone hung near the back. Shadow made note of his tentative retreat. If the situation called for it, he believed there was a fight within the GUN second-in-command. He had seen it earlier in the corridors of the wider facility. But the cowardice here, when the odds were stacked against them, was amazing for one so high up the ranks. Shadow blamed it on selfish imbalance of character. It was nothing new.
The largest of the Nemesis held up a gloved fist. His comrades snapped to a halt. Two lines were drawn. One of the villains, the other of heroes. As leader of the latter, the Commander gave no hesitation. Knee-high black boots stepped forward. Hands clasped tightly behind his back. Chin up. Broad shoulders. Uniform immaculate in presentation.
No fear. Not a hint of his age on display.
Heterochromia squared off against the neon-daubed mask.
“Yield,” its voicebox crackled.
“Never,” came a staunch defiance. “You have committed an act of war against the United Federation, based entirely on assumption. We have cancelled all further advancement on the weapon called Project: RPM. The missile itself is undergoing decommission. So stand down and negotiate.”
The Nemesis remained emotionally detached. “This is not about your weapon.”
Recoiling, the Commander frowned. “Then...?”
Click.
As one, all innocent faces in the Bullpen turned slowly.
And saw that Captain Stone had levelled his sidearm directly at the silver-haired head of his superior officer.
“It’s about me, sir,” he sneered triumphantly. “And it always has been!”
To Be Continued...
Written by Glenn Scully
