Streek Skunk: Deadland Strike

Chapter One: Capture Crisis

It's 9:00 pm in the extensive Jade City, and as the normal citizens begin to clear the
streets, dog and cat guards from the Special City Patrol (SCP) are on high alert.
Armed with high-magnitude ion laser rifles and flash grenades, and protected with
lightweight metal armor, they comb the city's industrial, entertainment and
transportation sectors in search of one called “Evader”. For the past three months, the
so-called “Evader” has robbed over a dozen banks and museums, collecting quite a
fortune in rare jewels and gold coins and then disappearing into the night like a
ghost, sometimes taking out SCP guards in the process. Armed with a unique blackarmor
sneak suit, shock wires with clubbed ends and a forty-foot reach that extend
from both hands, a black helmet with a red view port capable of thermal, night, and
x-ray vision through solid concrete and sharp claws, the jewel thief expert Streek
Skunk takes to the streets once more to live up to his name.
The view port adjusted itself so that Streek could see through the thick darkness and
make out the shape of the breaker box on the roof of the museum. He could hear the
faint whirs of police sirens in the distance, seeing the green and blue lights reflecting
off of the glass windows of the buildings across the street, yet he kept on working at
the wire mess before him. He'd studied the right combination, knowing which ones
would open the service elevator door on the roof, which was twenty feet to his left,
and how to tie it. Once the view port illuminated it with night vision, Streek smiled and
twisted the wires together before clamping them down with electrical tape. The
elevator far left opened up quickly, and he slithered across the roof to enter it. The
special service elevator had access to rooms that the normal elevator didn't, primarily
rooms that only the janitors or museum curators were allowed access to. Searching
the glowing blue keys on the right-hand panel of the elevator, Streek found the
marking for the zone he was looking for and pressed it. The elevator doors slid shut
and down he went a few floors. Fighting the nauseous sensation of his stomach due
to the elevator was quite easy; when you can do front-tucks and back-flips, such
sensations are normal. The elevator slammed to a stop—a common setback of hotwiring
an elevator—and the doors opened with a sharp grind, revealing a carpeted
hallway leading down into a room that had a high, glass roof and was full of jewels.
The cases gave off a bluish light of their own that didn't fill the room, setting the stage
for Streek to move in and out without a problem. He strolled into the blue-dimmed
room and looked over the variety of jewels there, searching for his target without
greed; he was taught that greed in a thief is his undoing, and to get only what he
came for. He smiled as he approached the cases on the far end of the room, seeing
the rather large collection of cut diamonds. Without wasting time, he utilized his sharp
claws to trace a circle in the glass just below the diamond, avoiding the sensor
markings from the inside of the pane, and punched it out silently. Once he laid hand
on the large diamond in the case, a small red light lit up in the far right corner of the
room. Seconds later, as he expected, bright flood lights came on and a shrieking siren
emitted. Streek stood still, unmoved; he had already taken care of it. After about ten
seconds of total panic, the alarm shut off again and the lights went dead, because
he had crossed the wiring with the elevator controls, making the alarm shut off
permanently when the elevator returned to the roof, where it was programmed to
“sleep” or wait for activation. Only now, the alarm would stay deactivated while the
elevator would still work. He moved out of the area quickly, not rushing but not
procrastinating either as he pressed the button for the elevator once more. Seconds
later, it arrived and the doors slid open. Suddenly, there was a loud chain of beeps
from the inside cabin—and Streek back-flipped to avoid being rushed in the face by
a fiery explosion. Upon his landing, the alarm continued to sound but the lights stayed
off as he searched around for an exit. He found one; a doorway blocked off by
horizontal burglar bars. They were about two feet above one another, glowing their
bluish white color, and Streek took it all into consideration as he reared up and
prepared to run. Without a second of hesitation, he leaped forward perfectly, sailing
through the bars untouched and landing in the dark hallway ahead of him. To his left
was a hall that slowly led down a right-curving staircase into a large open area with
what looked like an old exhibit of the days of the Zaranian Palace Rule. There was a
stir downstairs—his view port picked up several moving objects, zooming in and
adjusting the night vision to help him make out the image. With a wry smile, he slid
down the banister of the staircase and landed among the hoard of SCP units, a
shadow among them. As soon as they were within his extend-n-retract radius, he
went to work, rapping the knob-ended wires around his victims and pulsing his hands
to send through a lethal shock of electricity, which lit up the dark with a flash of blue
lightning. “He’s here!” one of the units cried out seconds before being victimized by
the electrical attack. Streek flipped over the shadowy figure of the unit before him,
wrapping him with the wires as he looked towards a lit doorway up ahead. It
darkened with the figure of more SCP units arriving to the dark scene with flashlightmounted
laser rifles. Still holding onto the unit he’d wrapped up, he front-flipped
forward, releasing his grip and sending his dead pursuer crashing stiffly into the
newcomers. Reaching a wire up to the scaffold-like roof, he retracted up into the
darkness and grabbed a hold of one of the many metal poles that grid-patterned the
area. As the SCP scrambled to find him on the floor, he worked his way over to the
wall with the door and waited until the doorway was cleared of units. The rest had
moved up the stairs to the second area, unable to enter the exhibit at first because of
the horizontal plasma bars. Once they were in, they noticed the missing diamond and
came racing back down, but by this time, Streek had lowered himself slowly and
escaped out of the abyss down a hall that led to one of the main exhibits. This area,
fortunately, was worked over with pipes and vertical bars he could use in an attack—
an attack that he saw coming as the area was illuminated and SCP units raced at
him. It was like a trap, as he flipped and swung around bars, still reaching out and
shocking the units whenever he could. With one final front-flip he came close enough
to ravage one unit with sharp-clawed scratches, tossing him aside to attack the next
group. As they entered, rifles fired and missed, while Streek worked his way
acrobatically around the 3D jungle gym of pipes and bars. Careful not the two
generators posted on the left and right side, the SCP units below stopped firing—
down came Streek in an electrical frenzy to take them out. Once it was done, he
returned to his high escape and worked his way across the open area towards a row
of windows not far ahead. Seconds before he reached it, laser fire from below
brazed across the pipes below him and seared the glass. With one final pipe ahead,
Streek extended a shock wire forward and wrapped it. Taking in all of his energy, he
swung frontward and shattered through the glass onto the roof of the main entrance
area. Lower down than he was before, he could hear and see the SCP vehicles
arriving and the units racing all around the building. Pausing momentarily to catch his
breath, he looked over the atmosphere of the rooftops; it was quiet for now. The radio
unit in his helmet buzzed with an incoming message, and Streek pressed a small
button on the bottom left side of his helmet to receive it. “Move it Streek; they’re all
over you now. It’s not safe to come back here, so I’m going to have you leave off at
the port. Get there as soon as you can,” an icy, low voice stated quickly. “Alright,”
Streek acknowledged, like a behavioral machine. Within seconds of his new
instructions, he was racing across the rooftop to the next division. Leaping across it, he
got a brief view of the ground. It was busy and frantic as he expected, yet he
continued on his roof race towards the Jade City docks. It was about two blocks from
his recent location, and he knew the place well. His game of free running was on
now, like second nature to him after hours and months of practice. Each move was
smooth and precise, accurate for the nature of his motion, as Streek was sure that
someone was after him now on the roof. He stopped again, picking up a sound that
his helmet had maximized from his left, somewhere in the distance. It was a roaring
sound, sectioned, choppy and familiar, but Streek couldn't yet figure out what it was.
It began to grow louder now, sounding closer than ever, when suddenly, daylight
shone on him from above. An SCP glider, shaped like a small triangular V, hovered
above him with a single spotlight trained on his standing location. “This is the SCP; do
not attempt to move or you will be shot!” the pilot announced over an intercom unit.
Streek eyed the glider without regard, looking to his left and right quickly. “Do not
move or you will be shot!” the pilot repeated. As if one wasn't enough, a second and
third glider appeared over him, hovering noisily and shining down their powerful LED
spotlights on his standing position. Streek looked all around as his view port darkened
to counter the brightness of the combined spotlights and conceal his eyes, searching
for his next move. He was not about to go out without a fight, and right now, he could
see his exit on a small hook at the bottom of the first glider. Extending a shock wire
and wrapping it, he retracted to the bottom of the glider and held on tight as it
began to move. The second glider was trying to maneuver to fire beneath the glider,
but once it got close enough, Streek extended down enough to swing atop it and
laid flat on the cockpit glass. For grip, he dug his sharp claws into the glass and
peered into the eyes of the SCP pilot, reading fear and contemplation in his eyes. The
third glider began to move in and up, aiming its two fang-like front lasers directly at
Streek, when suddenly, Streek back-flipped to the rear of the glider and began to
claw at the wires and engine parts exposed by certain polygonal heat vents. The
glider took off in an erratic motion, spinning and looping before finally catching fire.
Streek abandoned the glider, landing back on the roof as it exploded and raced
forward. The other two gliders were on the search now as Streek took advantage of
the smoke left by the burning glider remains to slip once again into the shadows. This
time, he was at the end of his block, looking over into the street below. He had run
out of running space; the next part of his escape depended on how fast he could
wire-swing. Extending the first one towards a streetlight below, he swung down and
released, cannon-spinning forward far enough to catch the next one with a shock
wire. The next time he released, he had more momentum and ran across the vertical
side of a building before reaching down and wrapping a flag-less flagpole and
double swinging for better momentum. Angling upward, he sailed towards the top of
a skyscraper and reached into one of the two zipped pockets on his sneak suit and
pulled out a black computer chip. Sliding it into a slot on the right arm of his sneak suit
sleeve. Seconds later, his armor turned red and navy blue, a backpack-like module
formed on his back and wings sprouted from it with a jet pack that propelled him
upward. Below him, the gliders were on the search as he touched down on the
skyscraper rooftop. He looked quickly over the city and then towards the east, where
the docks were located. Seconds later, he took off for it, his view port converted to
give him both aerial and land coordinates. Seconds later, there was a beep that
continued to emit as it marked the proximity of an incoming glider. Flipping over, he
utilized the upgraded laser crossbow on his right arm and fired on the cockpit with a
green laser fire. Seconds later it detonated in a ball of flames, but a second glider
had emerged as well. This time, the glider fired on Streek, forcing him onto the
evasive with pinwheels and dives. Suddenly, his view port showed a meter bar that
began to decrease, and it was labeled in Joules. Figuring out that it was his jet pack
energy decreasing, Streek went on the attack and fired on the glider quickly. Upside
down and firing past his feet, he took aim on the cockpit but missed due to the quick
maneuvering of the pilot concealed within. Streek had to also consider the fact that
he was nearing the docks as well, but his firing had exhausted too much of his energy
level and he flipped back over to escape. The glider took full advantage of the
unfortunate predicament of the Angelwing armor's failing battery level with a fullscale
attack. Streek was able to dodge and reentered the building heights to provide
temporary cover as an alarm went off on his helmet. The battery level dropped to the
marker for zero, and the armor defaulted back into the sleek black and white form of
his Sparkilator sneak suit. Looking down, Streek began to fall quickly with the glider
angling down to close in on him from above. In a final maneuver, Streek extended a
wire up and wrapped the hook at the base of the glider and pulsed his hand strongly
to generate the shock. After a frequent repetition of pulsing, the glider finally
exploded in mid-air and Streek reached down to wrap a streetlight and swing. He
reached the end of the street and leaped outward, curling into a double back tuck
and landing on his feet in the perpendicular intersection across from the docks.
Walking out to the third dock, he noticed a small hovercar and several hooded and
cloaked cats armed and standing guard in front of it. Behind the setup, a large cargo
ship was preparing to leave the docks, sounding a loud horn to signal. Streek
approached the hovercar, noticing that the cats were armed with laser rifles that had
been stolen from SCP armories in the past, and when one stepped forward, her
stopped. “That's far enough; take the diamond out and set it on t he ground,” the
hood stated. Streek eyed him in a demeaning fashion and sighed; he took the large
diamond from his pocket and tossed it on the ground. The hood looked at him oddly,
conveying a feeling of disrespect, and flashed his laser rifle at him. “You be careful
with that attitude of yours, or you'll wind up a dead legend,” he threatened with a
sarcastic smile. “Look, I just took out over twenty SCP guards tougher than all of you
put together times ten; taking out a few street corner punks wouldn't make a
difference. PS, I don't have to be close to you to inflict pain,” Streek threatened back.
The hoods all exchanged looks and shifted on their feet, as a slender weasel in a
bluish black suit slipped out of the hovercar and stood before Streek. “Hello Wiesel
Weasel; it's been a few weeks since you last came around here,” Streek greeted. “I
only have a moment before my ship leaves; as you know, I am a wanted animal in
these parts so I will leave tonight. Your pay will be wired to you from our hidden
location via connection to your friend Scandle's hack on the local banks. Your pay
will be twenty-thousand vieges as I promised, plus a bonus of ten for your hard,
efficient work in getting here quickly,” Wiesel stated. Streek raised his eyebrows,
gleaming at the amount from the confines of his helmet, and then put his right hand
out to shake with him. “That's a total of thirty vieges; more that you originally offered.
Deal,” he agreed, stepping back to allow Wiesel to slip back into his hovercar along
with his bodyguard hoods, and they sped off to board the cargo ship seconds before
it left. That night, a total of 26 SCP units were dead, three hovercraft were destroyed,
and a 1.5 million viege (1 million dollar) diamond stolen clean. As if that wasn't
enough, Streek was walking away from a deal with an extra 10,000 to spend. To avoid
being tracked down, he only kept immediate amounts in his bank account that
never went over the standard limit of 20,000 vieges at a time; the rest he kept in a safe
at his hideout. He started to think if tonight was too easy, but shoved the idea aside as
he quickly raced back into the city, finding an alley to power down his sneak suit in.
when not active, the standard Sparkilator sneak suit became a backpack-like
module that he wore on his back, concealing who he was during the day and
utilizing its magnificent abilities mainly to pull of expert robberies at night. Once he
was back to normal in a plain gray t-shirt and black pants, he headed down the
sidewalk towards the next subway entrance.
“A total of twenty-three bodies recovered, all victims of the same kind of electrical
shock, and the diamond we predicted to be stolen was in fact stolen; you promised
me no casualties,” a tall, slender beaver in a blue SCP suit uniform, stated. Two SCP
captains accompanied him as they walked through the taped-off areas of the
museum to examine clues. “Well Captain Sting, the diamond he took was fused with
a tiny transmitter device that we laser-inserted. It transmits clear signal through solid
concrete and steel, but for some reason, it won't go through anything made of iron.
Scanning indicates that the diamond is already on the move, located in a cargo ship
heading southbound to Vector City tonight,” the SCP captain stated. Captain Sting
looked at him in an approving manner, and then continued on into the exhibit room
where the diamond was stolen from. “Excellent news; we're closer to catching him
than we realized,” he approved. One of the search crew members was examining
the cut in the glass casing, and looked up, surprised when Captain Sting stopped in
front of him. “He's no amateur; the incisions made here were right below the laser
sensors on the glass, and the guys on the roof said that it was totally dark when he did
the elevator wiring. Too bad there's really not much left of the elevator to show us
exactly what he did to it,” he reported. “We'll know soon enough. You'll probably be
able to ask the Evader soon, because we're hot on his tail with a tracking device that
he can't even see, even if he was looking right at it. Contact Vector City officials and
warn them to capture the cargo vessel coming in tonight; our outlaw is aboard,”
Captain Sting declared.
The subway was the best way for Streek to travel without being noticed. Hundreds of
other animals rode the crowded subway, especially at night. After ten to fifteen
minutes on the roaring and shrieking collection of train cars, Streek got off in the
Domestic Sector; it was the area of the city set aside for living quarters—houses, highrises,
apartments—and walked up to the surface. Facing east, the living areas were to
his left on the north side, and the edge of the city, populated with a dense forest was
to his right on the south side. Streek headed south as he had many times before,
retracing the same footsteps he'd walked time and time again until he reached the
forest. It was pitch-black in the forest, contrasting to the lit streets and sidewalks of the
city, so he reactivated his Sparkilator sneak suit. Night vision automatically equipped
itself, scanning the area and finding nothing moving as Streek pressed on, further and
further from civilization. The sound of rushing water grew loudly up ahead, signaling
that he was near the old creek waterfall—near home. Once he could see the bank
of the creek, he began to run his hands along the bark of the trees that were
stationed there. Four trees to his left, he found the hidden switch in a knothole and
pulled it to reveal a staircase on the rear side of the same tree. He proceeded down,
quickly and quietly, entering what looked like the den of a bear. Once the secret
passage closed above him, it was pitch-black again inside the den, but Streek
pressed onward, finding another door up ahead with a keypad control to the right of
it. Typing in his four-digit access code, the door slid open with a hiss. Light filled the
area, revealing technical equipment and machinery in action, within an area a
quarter the size of a football field. To the far left were generators and computer
equipment used for assembly and research, and to the right was the GPS monitoring
system, a window computer screen with an underwater view of the filled creek—and
a rather short fox by the name of Scandle, who coordinated and ran all of the
equipment in Streek's absence. The door closed behind him as he stepped into the
area and approached the window monitor where Scandle stood, working. “I take it
that the package was delivered,” Scandle addressed, not looking away from his
work. “Yeah, and figure this: Wiesel Weasel has decided to pay us an extra ten
thousand in vieges because of the speedy delivery as well,” Streek reported,
removing his helmet and pushing his black and white bangs out of his face. His hair
was in the odd shape of a mullet, only his bangs shadowed his forehead by hanging
forward a bit, but the white stripe coincided with the single stripe running down his
body and to his slender tail. “Of course, no one saw you; this makes you a primary
source in our employer’s eyes. Are they still calling you the Evader?” Scandle
inquired, finally looking over at him. “Yeah, but I don’t mind it. Rather have them
know that name than call me Streek Skunk and let everyone know who I am,” Streek
added. Scandle gave him a confused look and crossed his arms, coming over in front
of Streek. “I thought your real name was Eric Fields,” he stated.
“It is, but no one knows both names except you.”
“They know Streek, or they know Eric,” Scandle clarified, “besides, your next mission
has been programmed.” Streek looked up, eager to hear. Next, he pulled out all
three computer chips—one black, one green, and the other blue—and shuffled them
around in his hands until Scandle finally spoke up. “You'll only need to use the black
and blue chips; Angelwing and Glider modes. Your target is the Inter-County Bank,
and your job is to infiltrate and insert this data card into the mainframe so that I can
get full access of the transactions and fund transfers. We've been contracted by an
unknown source who claims to work for Senile Sergeant,” Scandle stated quickly.
Streek was smiling largely now; any jobs requiring money or banks always ended in a
bonus payment—always a gift for speedy completion. “When do I leave?” Streek
questioned, placing his two computer chips in the right-side zipper pocket of his sneak
suit. “You depart from here at nine o' clock tomorrow night to the south entrance of
Swan Park in the city to pick up Senile Sergeant’s insertion key, and then from there,
head straight to the bank. He also says that you get a wire payment of fifty-thousand
vieges, plus and extra ten when the job is done—but it gets better,” Scandle
foreshadowed deviously. “I'm all ears,” Streek sighed, expecting what would be said
in advance. “He has a challenge: complete the mission within four minutes and thirty
seconds, and you'll get a service bonus—of a hundred thousand vieges,” Scandle
stated dramatically. Streek looked around for a minute, and then raised his eyebrows.
“So, we're talking about one-hundred and sixty thousand vieges at stake, right?” he
recalled. Scandle nodded at him and smiled, exchanging smiles with Streek now.
“Alright, let's do it,” Streek agreed.
As promised, a wired transaction entered Streek's account, containing the advanced
fifty thousand vieges, around 8:50 pm. Streek was already suited up and waiting for
the word from Scandle, saying that the deliverer was on-site. Streek couldn't afford to
loiter around too long in the city now, and the atmosphere was already too tense.
Sitting along the row of computers, Scandle typed away with his eyes fixed on the
glass window screen of his megacomputer when a message alert showed on the
screen. Streek walked over from the exit door and looked over Scandle's shoulder to
read it. “Looks like our man is in the meeting zone; he says the atmosphere is clear,
not too much SCP action going on there, and he's got the insertion key,” Scandle
summarized. “Good; tell him I'm on my way now,” Streek responded, grabbing his
helmet and heading for the exit. Seconds before he got there, Scandle called back
to him. “Hey Streek, still be careful out there. This is a lot of money we're talking about,
especially if you break this record.” Streek looked back at him with a slight chuckle
and a smile. “I'll SHATTER that record!” he asserted. Heading up to the tunnel, and
then into the forest itself, he removed the black computer chip from his left-side
pocket and inserted it into the helmet slot on the rear left side. Once again, the red
and blue Angelwing mode took form. Once the wings and the jet pack were in
shape, he leaped into flight, curving around to the right and heading towards the
ghostly lights of the city in the near distance. He scanned the city with his view port
and monitored the buildings and ground as he passed through towards Swan Park on
the right side. Landing quickly and proceeding on foot, he downgraded to the
Sparkilator form and strolled into the night park on one of the various stone paths. Past
the thick oak trees and yellow-tinted lights, he found the meeting place, and a
shadowy figure stood near a park bench ominously. Streek approached him
cautiously, scanning him over with his eyes and preparing to extend a wire at any
second, when he came forward and shoved a small black box into his hand and ran
off into the shadows beyond the park lights. Dumbfounded by the odd maneuver,
Streek placed the 3 by 3 by one-inch box in the left-side pocket of his sneak suit, and
ran into the street, where he extended a wire and began to swing from the
streetlights. Moments later, he found his target bank. It was a tall, fifty-story building
with crystal-clear windows that shone a bluish color when the lights from inside
illuminated them, and it was cylindrical at the top and wide, rectangular shaped at
the bottom. Taking a high swing upward on the last street light, Streek cannon-spun
forward, switching and inserting his blue computer chip in mid-air. Immediately, a
blue armor formed, with yellow bands around the hands and helmet. His shoes
converted to blue and yellow hovershoes, designed to use Reverse Magnetics®
technology to give him the ability to float four to six inches above the ground. Besides
that, his extend-n-retract wires were now converted to claw-ended wires instead of
knob-ended. As he approached the windows of the building, he reached up,
extending a clawed wire that clamped onto a metal window brace. After retracting
his way up to it, Streek kicked his way through the window of an empty office and
rolled in across the floor. Crouching still for a second, he waited for his view port to
adjust and prompt the night vision so that he could see. Once he could, he moved
across the open, dark area, maneuvering around desks and office furniture to the
door. No light was emitting from the other side of it, but before he opened the door,
he scanned across the frame of the door. There were security devices lining it, but
they weren't activated. Streek took notice of it, feeling eerily about it, yet he pressed
onward, opening the door and escaping into the hallway. Mid-way the hall, he found
a vent shaft in the roof and extended his clawed wires up to suspend him to the
ceiling. He worked across it and then pried the vent cover off, slithering into it like a
geared snake. Following a schematic of the vents, provided by Scandle who'd
beamed them to his helmet computer, he worked his way down the shaft about forty
yards and then down to the 23rd floor by slow-hovering down a vertical shaft.
According to the schematic, the details on the 23rd floor were classified; Streek smiled
at that. To him, it simply meant that he had arrived on the right level. “Scandle; I'm on
the twenty-third floor and the schematics are classified so I can't see them. I'm in the
vents above a hallway, proceeding forward,” he radioed. “Alright then, be careful.
There's a light level of resonance generated in the area, so I it takes a minute for me
to hear you clearly, and I can't locate your position accurately,” Scandle responded.
Streek pressed on, crawling forward about another thirty yards and taking peeks
through the vent shafts as he went. The first few were hallway openings, then an
office, and then he came across something interesting. The third and fourth vents
were in a large, well-lit lab-like computer room. There were areas like this in other
banks, usually containing sensitive computer records, but seconds later, Scandle
radioed in. “That's it! You're right on top of the lab section, so drop down now and
look for the central mainframe,” he stated. Streek worked his way through the vent
cover and lowered himself into the silver room. After looking around for a few
seconds, he noticed a larger computer along the right-side wall and ran for it.
Approaching the large rectangular-prism, he took the insertion key from the left-side
pocket and opened the box to reveal the shiny silver module. The port he needed to
use was right in front, so he quickly inserted it. Seconds later, the computers began to
whir and buzz, giving an extra component to Streek's unease at the mission. “Key's
inserted now, Scandle,” Streek radioed. He waited a few seconds for a response, but
all he got was scrambled static. “Scandle?” he repeated. Suddenly, red-flashing
lights filled the area, replacing the white lights with a ruby-red glow, and the vents
began to filter down a white gas. Streek tried to find a way out, but the computer
room was completely sealed off. Coming to his senses, he looked up at the vent and
lost all hope when he realized that it had closed itself, pouring out the blinding cloud.
Then, Streek began to feel dizzy, stumbling along the rows of computers in a last
minute attempt to escape. His mind was screaming, even though his helmet view
port continued to update scans and adjust, and then the world went dark. Silent.
“The alarms went off around nine o' two, after he made his initial entrance into the
building through a window on the forty-fifth floor—how he got in that way, we don't
know, but we do have the subject in custody,” an SCP unit reported to Captain Sting.
Sting looked up at the tall building from the ground and raised his eyebrows. “I told
them he was no ordinary thief, and now we have the clues to prove it. At least we
finally have him in custody, putting an end to his adventures for good,” he stated. Just
then, another sleek, black hovercar appeared on the scene, joining the mass of SCP
vehicles with their flashing lights that had congregated outside of the Inter-County
Bank. From it, a tall fox emerged in a black suit and came over to Captain Sting. “I
am from the Jade City District Attorney's office, my name is Craig Steel; we have just
received word that you have successfully apprehended the one you call the Evader.
Is that true?” Craig addressed. Captain Sting walked forward to shake his hand with a
suspecting smile, and then nodded. “Yes we did; he's already been transported to
Dominion Hill Special Penitentiary,” he answered. Craig looked over at him surprised
and confused as he spoke again. “Well, it is good that you have handled this so
quickly, but my orders were to have you send him to SCP headquarters for immediate
questioning.” Captain Sting, knowing the regular procedure was to have all
dangerous suspects sent to immediate detention, unless a political figure said
otherwise. “Why do we have to send him to HQ?” he asked, still trying to make sense
of Craig's unprecedented arrival. “The County Head wants to speak with him; the
nature is a proposition, but I am not at liberty to say what about. I was told to find you
here and tell you to transport your detainee to SCP headquarters right away,” Craig
stated, walking off without warning. Captain Sting was completely annoyed at the
lack of Intel provided; yet he had to comply with the rules or be at risk for a
suspension. He walked over to the unit head of the group of SCP units and ordered
him accordingly, and then watched as a dozen of units filled vehicles and zoomed
off down the street.
His eyes opened and blinked as a teal green light came into view. It was cool glass,
and his face was plastered to it as he pushed himself up and looked around. He was
in a circular room, lit by the teal floor and a band of light that went around the room
as well. Before him was a metal panel of a silver color, but the rest of the wall around
him was nothing but reinforced steel of a dull gray shade. Clasping his bare hands, he
realized that his sneak suit had been taken from him, meaning that an escape would
be impossible. Suddenly, the silver wall panel in front of him slid to the left and right,
revealing three occupied stair-like rows of seats. He stood grimacing for a second,
and then there was a squeal of reverberation. “Where am I? What is this?” he asked
loudly. The combination of cats dogs and foxes in the seats all exchanged looks, and
then a microphone came to life. “You are in Dominion Hills Detention Center; you
were caught in the act of robbing Inter-County Bank, and you failed when you didn't
realize that our new security devices were installed because of you,” one of the foxes
stated. “Oh; well it was about time you did something advanced to catch me,”
Streek sassed, now crossing his arms to fight the coldness of the room's atmosphere.
“Your armor when we found you was analyzed, but locked up when we tried to
remove it; it has been placed in containment. You are going to answer a few
questions from us now, and your cooperation may prove to be noted when you
appear in court for your various crimes,” a female voice stated next. “If you're
planning on asking me how the armor works, I'm not telling you. I already know that
it's way more advanced than you can ever imagine, and you can't crack open that
case its sealed itself into,” Streek added. “What's your name?” an aggravated dog
roared out. “Yeah, I wanted to address that too, because you've been going around
giving me this lame title as the 'Evader', no class, and totally lame. Not to mention,
you didn't even take the time to ask me if that's what I wanted to be called,” Streek
started. Already, half of the animals in the room were becoming annoyed. The
aggravated dog stood up this time, prepared to go head-to-head.
“What is your name?”
“It's Streek Skunk.”
“Are you aware of all of the counts of illegal breaking and entering, assault with a
deadly, uh, weapon, resisting arrest, theft, second-degree murder, and computer
crimes that you have accumulated over the past three months?”
“Hey, extend-n-retract wires are a tool, not a weapon, your SCP pals attacked me first
so it was self-defense, if they attacked me with laser rifles—which are a deadly
weapon—and got put in the hospital, then it was their fault, and you don't have any
proof that it was me that did the computer crimes you are accusing me of,” Streek
addressed. The dog was now fuming, coming up to the glass window to look at
Streek. “You're going to fry for this, and failing to comply won't make it any better,” he
threatened. Streek walked up to the glass as well, grimacing as he moved his hair
aside again. “You know, I don't need my weapons to take you out; I keep getting this
feeling that you're like those dogs that bark from behind the fence but don't even
pant when that fence isn't there. You're just like the rest of your committee behind this
glass wall; you're all scared. You're scared because you know nothing about me, I
have advanced technology, and now that I'm in your custody you want me to talk,
but you know I won't. So now, you'll result to either of two options: bribery, which I
know you won't try, or interrogation, which you know that you won't get anything out
of me with because you'd have to come in here to do it. Either way I have control
whether I talk or not. Furthermore, I'm not going to talk to you,” Streek expressed
sharply. The dog eyed him with total disgust and anger, and then leaned into the
glass. “Dig your own grave,” he stated, walking back to his seat. “I will, and when I
finish with it, I'll get started on yours, too,” Streek added. The silver metal panels slid
back over the window, but before they closed completely, Streek could see
someone entering the room and everyone looking at them. For a few minutes, he sat
in the circular room, thinking, contemplating his next move. He had bluffed his way
through most of the conversation, knowing that no one had ever seen him attack. He
could use this factor, combined with the fact that no one knew how he put the SCP
units out of commission, to keep them from coming into the area with him, or so he
thought. A seal door opened to his right, and in came Craig Steel with his metal
backpack. Streek stood up and faced him. “Don't you know what I could do to you
for coming in here?” Streek inquired sharply. Craig ignored the comment and walked
right up to him, handing him his armor. “I could kill you with this stuff, you know that?”
Streek threatened again. Craig eyed him, rolled his eyes and walked off. “You
wouldn't want to kill me, kid. I'm the key to your freedom, so shut up and enjoy the
ride,” Craig hissed out. “How's that?” Streek called out after him, putting on his metal
backpack. “One word: Proposition,” Craig stated, turning back to Streek from the
doorway. Streek walked over to the opened door when Craig gestured with his hand,
and they proceeded down a hallway. After following out a few systems of hallways,
they arrived at a large heliport, where a Political Transport, which was like a larger,
modified glider, used for carrying political figures around the city was waiting noisily.
“I'll have to ask you to keep your armor off on this trip; you pose a threat to the
County Head with it on,” Craig stated to Streek over the noise of the Political
Transport. Upon hearing that, Streek's ears went up and he suddenly realized what
Craig meant when he mentioned a proposition; the County Head wanted to speak
with him.
Chapter 2: Catbox Desert
After traveling through intense security measures and numerous checkpoints, Streek
arrived in the north side district of the city, home of the Political Sector. There, the
Main Hall, as all cities had, was located within a large conglomerate of smaller,
connected buildings in the center of the area. The Political Glider circled it twice, and
then upon clearance, landed on a heliport atop the Main Hall, and Craig Steel
stepped out onto the dark concrete of the heliport and gestured for two SCP units to
escort Streek. From there, they walked across the heliport and entered an elevator,
squeezing in and riding down a few floors until they jerked to a stop. The doors
opened, revealing a greenish-white-light-lined hallway that they proceeded down
quickly. Streek took in all of his surroundings, working in his mind for an escape if he
needed one; meanwhile they neared a set of redwood double doors at the end of
the hallway ahead. Within seconds, the doors were opened. At the other end of a
round table stood a tall and slender wolf with shiny-rimmed glasses, and a trimmed
figure concealed behind a black suit. The SCP escorts waited outside the door as
Craig and Streek entered the room and closed the doors. “May I present to you, our
County Head, Finn Cinder. Mr. Executive, Streek Skunk, the ‘Evader’,” Craig
introduced. Finn Cinder walked over to Streek and extended a gloved hand
carefully. Streek hesitated and then reached with his own, clasping in an odd,
professional shake. “We finally meet; I’ve heard so many stories of your legendary hits,
and I must say it is quite interesting to meet someone who has gained more of a
reputation in three months than I did in two years,” Finn Sting stated with a wry smile.
“Negative reputation under a false, labeled, name is not what I’d consider an honor,
but getting known this well around the city was quite a thrill,” Streek answered. Finn let
his hand go, stepping back to speak again. “As you well know, you have eluded
many of our traps for the past three months; it took us some time to catch up with you,
and in the end, we had to tap into your side of the field to pull some strings—the
insertion key given to you by a suspected member of the Senile Sergeant’s entourage
was a trap set by us to get you out into the open. Your use of technological special
effects are way beyond the technology we have here in the SCP, but instead of you
going to jail, I have a proposition for you,” Finn added, walking around the table
slowly. “I’m always ready to hear a good business proposition,” Streek answered,
smiling sarcastically. “There is a growing resistance in the Deadlands—an area of
desert on the border of our county. One criminal mastermind named Sinisanta Claws
has accumulated an army of both hoods and robots, and they threaten to take
drastic action against us if we do not heed their warnings. He demands that we turn
over our power-producing resources to his technicians, with full access and code
clearance to the Harvia City mainframe—or else he invades,” Finn detailed quickly.
Streek crossed his arms, taking in the details and analyzing the threat. “Well, I know
that Harvia City deals directly with the Powerfield and Batteryville, which are both one
to two hundred miles from here, but where do I come in?” he asked. Finn threw a nod
at Craig, and he handed Streek a file of photos. “These are screenshots taken by
helmet cameras of a group of SCP raiders we previously sent into the Deadlands.
They show an advanced adversary with unknown land force and military power way
beyond what we can handle. None of these units returned alive,” Finn explained.
Streek looked over the picture of a snow fox in armor much like his, only he was
holding semi-circle-like weapons in both hands that cut like glow-razors; Streek knew
the technology from hearing the stories of Photon and Positron City from Scandle.
“Who is this guy?” Streek asked, holding up the image. “We don’t know, but as you
can see, there are several single units just like him, probing around in the Catbox
Desert and the Inverted Canyon. Here’s the deal: we erase your crimes and let you
keep the wired transfer of the fifty thousand vieges, if you agree to go in as our
extended agent and take out Sinisanta’s power sources,” Craig stated. Streek looked
over at him with a smile. “I knew that this was going to happen. How do you even
know that I can take out any of Sinisanta’s units?” he questioned. “You took out
several of our units in blank timing; you handle just as well as they did against our SCP
units,” Finn defended. “Well, they aren’t exactly the most technical of adversaries, or
best armored, no offense,” Streek added. Craig gave an annoyed sigh, and Finn
cleared his throat in a perturbed fashion. “Are you in, Streek Skunk?” he questioned
again. Streek looked around again, replaying all of the details. As far as he could see
it, he had nothing to lose, financially or figuratively, because if he agreed, he would
be paid and have a chance to redeem himself, and if not, he’d be sitting in holding
until the evidence of his crimes finally spoke for themselves. Reading into it, he turned
to Finn Cinder. “I’m in; just tell me what to do to put a hole in Sinisanta’s gift bag,” he
stated. Craig walked over to him and stood in front of Finn Cinder. “Your primary
target will be the Mechanical Fortress, which is the hub of Sinisanta’s power. It is
surrounded by the Steaming Plains, which is full of heavily armored enforcements.
Your journey consists of traveling through the Catbox Desert, finding a way into the
Inverted Canyon, hub of his security outposts, across Char Lake where the water has
been stopped for hydroelectric power, Diamond Gulch, where drills in the ground
surface oil for forging his metal machinery, and then into the Steaming Plains,” Craig
detailed. Streek smiled and nodded respectfully, taking his folder of photos to study.
“Alright, we will provide you with a place to stay, facilities for practice if you need
them, and any other resources you want,” Finn inserted with a forced smile. “Then I
have one condition: let me choose my own operator. He’s the best one I know, and
he’s worked for years as a technical staff for the SCP. He’s the only one I will allow to
know the frequency of my helmet. You won’t get me without him,” Streek stated
quickly. Craig and Finn exchanged looks quickly and then Finn nodded in
agreement. From there, Streek was escorted back to the heliport and loaded back
onto the Political Glider, which in turn transported him back to his south side of the
county and dropped him off in SCP special housing. He spent the night in a suite at a
hotel-like building that was lined with SCP action and totally airtight with surveillance;
a flea couldn’t escape the place unnoticed. He was given a rather spacious oneroom
suite, with a large row of windows, a sliding glass door that led out onto a
balcony, and furnishings provided by the city’s taxpayers. Streek spent the night
working on reach exercises, aiming mainly at metal column targets given to him for
practice (since he was originally using the provided furniture and the pictures on the
wall), and somewhere around midnight, there was a knock on his door. He
abandoned his stance in the middle of the living room and went to answer the door;
there stood Craig. “It would be wise to get some sleep; your shuttle leaves at seven in
the morning, and you don’t sleep past then—unless you’re dead,” Craig stated
coldly. “You’re a real gent when it comes to polite and courteous room service, you
know that?” Streek asserted sarcastically. “Hey, I’m just telling you the truth; you can
take it the way you want to, Evader,” Craig insulted as he walked off down the hall.
Streek rushed his head out of the hall to make his last winning statement. “Yeah, and
have a nice night, Metal-Man! Only a stiff like you could have the last name Steel! It
points to how callused you are!” he barked out. Slamming his door, he stood back
before the four metal columns of metal, ready to attack them. “They’re made of
steel; probably Craig’s petrified cousins,” he mumbled. After two more rounds of that,
he decided after all to get some sleep.
As he was told, he was awakened early, around six-thirty in the morning, and flown
back to the Political Sector in Sparkilator mode. On the heliport, he was transitioned to
an armed carrier, where he was freed of Craig’s hawk-like glare, and placed in a
side seat. The last thing that Craig had told him was that he was free to contact his socalled
operator, and when the carrier was taking off, he spit out of the open lift-door
in front of him. The carrier took him south across the city, the forests, where he lived,
and finally into the sandy, deserted areas of the desert. The pilot was to his left, in
view, and as far as he could see, there were only a handful—maybe three or four
including the pilot—of SCP units with him, but Streek wasn’t surprised; all of the things
he had heard and seen from his file, regarding the ease it was for Sinisanta’s units to
take them out, indicated why there was a lack of security around him now. Suddenly,
there was a jerk downward as the carrier began a sharp descent, sailing above the
dirt and generating a cloud that Streek’s view port had to adjust to so he could see
through. The pilot radioed an indistinct message, which was followed by a loud
explosion that rocked the craft. Black smoke billowed from the left wing of the glider
as the carrier hit the ground sliding. Streek unhooked his seatbelt mechanisms and
wrapped a wire around the handle of the opened lift-door above him. When the
craft went down, he didn’t feel a thing—but that wasn’t the end of it. Suddenly, there
were screams and laser blasts in the front of the carrier, and the pilot had been taken
out. The other three SCP units took up their arms for an attack on the right side of the
carrier, while Streek released his wire from the handle and worked his way around the
left side. He quickly inserted the blue computer chip back into his helmet and
transitioned into Glider mode. Along with the shift came an incoming message from
Scandle. “Hey Scandle,” he responded. “Where have you been for the last nine
hours? I’ve been running GP scans to find your armor—did you have it deactivated
for some reason?” Scandle questioned quickly. “Yeah I did, which is part of what I
need to tell you,” Streek started. Seconds before he could continue, the beeping
proximity alarm went off and Streek flipped around. There was a gray metal machine
about his size, with glowing green eyes and a rounded triangular head, armed with a
right-arm laser rifle. Streek’s reflexes kicked in, causing him to back-bend beneath a
laser blast, following through into a back flip and extending a clawed shock wire into
the robot. After a quick mechanical meltdown, the robot fell down dead. That wasn’t
the end of it; seconds later, three more appeared around the carrier, and Streek was
in full action. He flipped and spun, extending his lethal wires and shocking the robots
into nonexistence. The last of the SCP units had fallen, leaving Streek completely on
his own as Craig had warned him. Now, he utilized his skills as a thief to help him
survive. He moved away from the wreck and out into open sand of the Catbox
Desert, and looked out over the sandy plane. His helmet zoomed in on a small group
of the same robots near what appeared to be an anti-aircraft laser mount, but a
second proximity alarm rang and he extended a long wire into a robot a few yards
behind him. “What is going on?” Scandle exclaimed over the radio. “No time to
explain,” Streek barked out, tapping his shoes together to activate the hover feature
on his shoes, hence the reason the mode was called Glider. In a super-speed skating
motion, he neared the band of robots around the anti-aircraft mount, dodging laser
fire all the way. With a double spin to a quick front flip, his view port completed a
scan for shock wire range. He was still way out by about sixty yards, but the fire rain
was increasing on him nonetheless. Weaving in and out quickly, the hovershoes
accompanied his dexterity, and within seconds he was in range. Executing two longdistance
shock-wire extensions, he destroyed two robots and closed in on the position
of the other two. With a quick close-range skirmish, he put them out of commission
and looked behind the anti-aircraft laser mount at the sandy valley, which preceded
the wide, cliff-surrounded gulch, taking notice of a second smaller band of robots
escaping to what appeared to be a constructed checkpoint center along the cliff
base. “Alright, Scandle; here's the story. The whole bid for the one hundred sixty
thousand vieges was a setup to lure me into a trap so that County Head, Finn Cinder,
could recruit me on a mission to take out a crime lord and his army—in exchange for
my pardon for past crimes committed. Now, I'm here, trapped in the Catbox Desert
for all of Sinisanta's units to see,” Streek recited quickly. “Wow, tough break; well at
least you don't have to go to jail. Taking out other hoods should be a blast for you,”
Scandle added in. “Yeah, if you like taking out an enemy that takes out SCP units like
nothing,” Streek mumbled. “You mean the way you do, like when you're in the city
and all?” Scandle jeered playfully. Streek activated his hovershoes and skated
forward once more, heading into the sandy valley at intense speed. He prepared his
new attack, holding onto two-foot-long shock-wire extensions and twirling them with
deadly electrical charges like advanced nun chucks. The robot caravan was in
transit on a small, box-like hovercraft that kicked up sand as is glided across the open
desert. Streek closed in on them quickly, gaining a close distance before one of the
four on-board noticed him and began to fire. Streek took up the evasive once again,
weaving and dodging as he twirled the shock-wires, the deadly silver claws on each
end hissing. Leaning forward, he ducked beneath the laser fire and hooked onto the
rear of the hovercraft, extending a shock into the robots as he reeled himself in and
flipped aboard. The first to be destroyed was the driver, followed by the gunner at his
left, and then the gunner at his right, in a quick wrap-and-charge manner. The last
robot managed to grab a hold of him with the one hand it had and used the lasermounted
arm to swing two blows into the helmet. Annoyed but not seriously injured,
Streek put both shock-wires around the robot and shocked as hard as he could until it
detonated. There wasn't much action after that, but in the far reach of the gulch
ahead was a canyon wall and at its mouth was a base-like contraption with a tower
and a heliport pad on it. Streek eyed the base, allowing his view port to magnify the
terrain; he could see several more of the robots stationed there, and then he saw
something that resembled one of the pictures he had looked at in Finn Cinder's office.
It appeared to be a snow fox in black and light-brown armor, similar to his own, with a
helmet that hosted a pair of ear-like protrusions from the top. After looking around for
a few minutes, Streek activated his hovershoes and took off towards the base, twirling
his extended wires like a pair of electrical nun chucks as he hummed across the
sands. Halfway there, his view port did a scan of the structure, and the snow fox atop
it. “The armor data is amazing! It resembles the technological upgrades that I used to
create your suit, Streek,” Scandle stated from the radio. “Yeah, that's why the SCP was
trying to pry open my suit when I was in detainment. They couldn't get into it, so now
they're using me to take out the enemies that they can't—I wouldn't be doing this if it
wasn't a threat to Powerfield. If they lose power in Batteryville, we're all in trouble,”
Streek replied as he came up on the base. Laser fire rained down near him as he
zigzagged around, front-flipping and still twirling his shock wires. The front of the base
was like a giant set of stairs, and on the second level was a railing that led up to the
tower on the right side. Streek extended a clawed wire and yanked up to the second
level quickly, and once he landed, he knocked out a pair of robots with his glowing
wires. Two more came from doorways in front of and behind him, and Streek
retracted his wires, charging his electriclaws for a close-range attack. He flipped and
scratched, slamming the robots around in a massive carnage of flying scrap metal as
he headed forward to the tower stairwell. He hovered his way to the top level and
scanned the seal door in front of him. “It's made of Carbon steel; use your ion claw,”
Scandle advised. Streek charged the claw on his left index finger and scratched out
a square chunk of the door and kicked it through. Immediate evasive action
propelled him to move his hands forward, extending two shock wires into two
immediate robots. Retracting quickly, he managed to charge his electriclaws again
for the counter strike, winning his entrance into the control room. With a cartwheel
and a sharp round off, he hurdled the last two aggressors in his vicinity, extending
shock wires into them from behind, and snatching them forward with a jerk. With total
access to the control room, Streek was ready to wreak havoc. He started off by
finding the central control panel, which was a black touch-screen horizontal panel
with yellow illuminated keys for the keyboard and number pads in front of the large
view windows that overlooked the vast desert. He was skilled as a hacker when it
came to handling what was usual to him in the city, but being he was dealing with
primitive technology that was just as advanced as his own armor, he would need a
programmer with equal experience in dealing with it. “Scandle, I need you to run a
wireless hack on this control panel; it’s part of some kind of air control tower that I
infiltrated, but the technology is right up your alley,” Streek stated. “Got it; I’m using
the wireless view to get a good look at it…scanning…okay you should be in now! The
touch screen serves as the radio transmissions from aircraft to base, and you should
be able to contact SCP now that you’re in. I switched the cloak system settings to off
and froze them, so your contact will only be stationary and the SCP can’t try to track
you afterwards.” Scandle stated, quickly. Streek nodded and quickly started to type
on the simulated screen, accessing the unlocking frequency codes as they
appeared. He finally found the scroll list of radio contact frequencies and found the
one for the SCP listed under the category of “Mandatory Block.” There was a static
scramble for a second, and then the keypad became a video screen, displaying a
full-color image of Finn Cinder in his technical office. “I managed to get through and
disable the cloaking devices on their monitoring tower; you should be able to send in
troops to this sector now,” Streek stated, not bothering to remove his view port glass or
his helmet. “Well done, Streek; I take it you had no problem dealing with the
technology there,” Finn Cinder stated, standing upright and confident in front of his
monitor. “Not really,” Streek inserted suspiciously. “We had a strike team on standby in
case you called. Security will still be an issue as long as Sinisanta is still in power, and I
bet that he’ll detect any eccentricities in his security. You’ll have to remain up to
three steps ahead of us if we’re going to be able to send in our special forces,” Finn
Cinder dictated, looking off to the left of the monitor abruptly. Streek could feel
sharply in his instincts, that Finn Cinder was attempting a trace—another experiment
on Streek’s armor to see how remote it was on radar. Streek was about to terminate
the call quickly when a stray bolt of electricity incinerated the display and the panel.
Streek turned around to see the snow fox that he had seen only minutes earlier. There
he stood, holding onto what looked like a pair of half-moon metal pieces that
wrapped around his knuckles, and sat in the palms of his hands, glaring from the dark
abyss of his one-way glass view port. He stood in a pose, ready to strike again, when
Streek crossed his arms and grinned back at him. “That’s some fancy armor; hope it’s
better than your aim,” he insulted sharply. The snow fox didn’t say anything; he
remained frozen in attack position. “Okay then,” Streek sighed, stepping forward. The
snow fox flashed into another position, holding the metal half-moons like deadly
weapons now. “Alright, you wanna fight? Let’s see what you’ve got,” Streek
insinuated, extending a foot-long shock wire in both hands and twirling them with a
glowing electric charge. He began to twirl them with a pattern, showing off his agile
precision and standing to attack; the snow fox stepped back, a retractable metal
mouth guard slid over to conceal his mouth, and then squeezed the two half-moons
in his hands, extending two small bars on both sides of them, which in turn emitted
two blue-glowing, half-moon-shaped energy blades. Streek recognized the
weapons—glow razors. After remaining silent from the insults, the snow fox finally
uttered a single phrase, his voice masked with an icy radio-restricted tone.
“Let’s get dangerous.”
“With pleasure,” Streek answered him, smiling deviously. Lounging forward, Streek
initiated the fight, extending a shock wire that the snow fox knocked away with a
glow razor and fired back a blast of plasma lightning that Streek twisted over. After
the first shock wire retracted, he rolled into a quick spin and extended the other one,
which was knocked away equally as fast. This time, when the snow fox fired back,
Streek palmed out a foot-long shock wire, generating a makeshift shield that
absorbed the plasma blast with a bright flash. Streek took the opportunity to
downgrade to his Sparkilator form, utilizing the knob-ended shock wires to extend
punches into the snow fox, overwhelming him temporarily—until he back-flip-kicked
Streek into the control panel. For a second, he could hear a scrambled message
coming into the area over a secured frequency close to his own. The snow fox took a
second to answer a radio call, retracting his right-hand glow razor to tap his helmet.
“Scandle! Adjust and enhance the scrambled message!” Streek radioed sharply. “I’m
on it! I don’t know who that is, but he moves just as fast as you! I wonder how they got
their hands on such primitive technology—in large quantities,” Scandle thought
aloud. “Just do a background check on a character named Sinisanta Claws; get
back to me when you can,” Streek stated, standing up to face the snow fox again.
Instead of attacking, the snow fox clashed his two glow razors together, causing a
screeching flash of light to diffuse the room with a blinding glow. Streek lost radio
control for a second, his view port darkening to counter the flash. When the room
cleared of ionic particles, the snow fox was gone. Streek looked around for a second,
and then finally received a playback of the radio message his helmet receiver had
captured. “Incoming Centurion to base: come in, Sparkbolt,” the recording stated.
Streek thought for a minute, trying to figure out what was being said. “Ring any bells
to you, Streek?” Scandle radioed. “So, we have a name for our mysterious snow fox;
Sparkbolt. He used some kind of glow razor upgrade, that created a blinding flash
when he clashed them together,” Streek added.
“Pretty simple explanation; the ionic energy in a glow razor creates a level of light
with the photons it generates, all having the same charge. When he brought them
together, the charges tried to cancel each other and reproduced a large quantity of
photons—the blinding light you saw.”
“Intense.”
“Very; the model of glow razors that you say he has are strictly generic; no other
registries, illegal or legal, have a match to that model of weapon so he could’ve built
them himself.”
Streek tuned in on the sound of a low rumble, which rose up from the distance and
soon had the whole tower shaking. Streek turned to look out of the large windows of
the tower—a large, black-metal-constructed, falcon-like hovercraft was on
approach. Streek’s helmet scanners showed no recognition to any federal crafts, but
several technological alikeness matches to the robots he had destroyed; it was an
enemy. Without time to react, hot orange laser fire tore into the tower structure,
exploding chunks of the base and rocking it violently. Streek began to run towards the
staircase, intent on finding another way out of the base, while alarms began to
sound. There was no doubt that someone knew he was there, as more laser fire ate
away at the base with meteor crashes and explosions. Streek converted back into his
Glider mode, flipping down the stairs and using the hovershoes to glide over rubble.
Back on the main base floor, he laid eyes on a set of seal doors to his right; he skated
over to them quickly, knocking them down with a sharp shock from his clawed wires.
Outside the base, he could hear the screech of the hovercraft as it doubled back
around to fire on him. “I scanned the base for a schematic; you’re on the right path.
The rest of the map will be beamed to your helmet momentarily, but you’d better get
out of there quick! The structure of the base was designed to withstand a
bombardment from anything federal; the laser magnitude of the hovercraft from a
satellite scan is higher than a federal laser magnitude because they have to follow a
safety criteria, due to the fact that SCP normally functions within the cities,” Scandle
detailed. “I’m not really looking for a reader’s manual on the Magnitude Restriction
Act, right now,” Streek jeered, skating down the long corridor towards a large seal
door ahead. “However, the magnitude intensity comes with a downfall; the armor is
light in order to counter the weight of the lasers; your Angelwing should be able to
put a nice set of holes into it when you get out,” Scandle finished. “When I get out, I
may not be able to find it,” Streek inserted, sliding to a stop in front of the large seal
door ahead of him. “How about this: I’ll track it from here on satellite, and you take it
out, okay?” Scandle offered. When the radio hissed out, Streek eyed the door for
weaknesses. It was doubled steel, and double-layered; the only way to get out of
there would be to explode his way out. Finally, he would resort to the only chip he
hadn’t used; GearChaos mode. It was a red chip, which he took from the same
pocket as his Glider chip, and as soon as he engaged it, his armor rattled and began
to grow. His hands were covered by powerful neutron cannons, his helmet fortified
and grew to cover his entire face, and the rest of his body armor thickened instantly.
“Okay, this is exactly what I was looking for!” Streek asserted, examining his armored
arms and hands with envy. Holding his hands forward, he examined the door ahead
of him as if to select a target, and squeezed the gel triggers in both hands. The
cannons roared to life with a hum and two large blobs of hot plasma discharged and
melted into the steel. As if that weren't enough, he held his fists down until he had his
cannons at automatic fire, cutting a hole in the door large enough for him to escape
through. Suddenly, there were a series of loud beeps, and the armor receded back
into the Sparkilator mode. “Uh, Scandle, what just happened?” Streek inquired,
confused. “You overloaded the energy supply and the chip malfunctioned; for now,
just get out of there! The hovercraft is settling between you and the canyon mouth!”
Scandle stated. Streek didn't waste any time getting through the sweltering opening
and looking up. With a low rumble that shook the ground, the bird-like hovercraft
settled over him, sailing slowly ahead towards the canyon mouth. Streek activated his
Glider mode, running after the hovercraft and then skating until he picked up speed.
“I hope this works,” he mumbled to himself as he focused his eyes on the gunner seats
that were stationed on the left and right sides of the hovercraft. With a few more
steps, he leaped upward, transitioning into his Angelwing to glide upward, and then
reverting back into Glider mode with an extended claw wire. Once he had grip, he
swung around towards the occupied gunner seat, laying his eyes on another robot
that he quickly wrapped and shocked. Once he was aboard the hovercraft, chaos
was seconds behind him as he struggled to apprehend and destroy a flood of armed
robots that came for him. His helmet view port darkened again, concealing his eyes
and hiding half of his face as he charged and began to fight close-range with his
electriclaws. The hovercraft took a dangerous tip to the right, giving Streek a full view
of the land atop the right-side wall of the canyon. After a quick banking maneuver,
the hovercraft straightened, and two more of the robots tried to charge on him.
Streek quickly struck them down with the electriclaws and proceeded towards the
cockpit. The co-pilot spun around—he wasn't a robot. He scrambled to stand up, a
laser in his right hand, but Streek shocked him out regardless. Charging his
electriclaws with a sharp hiss, he eyed the frightened pilot, grimacing behind the
confines of his view port. “You're going to do exactly what I say, or I'm going to fry you
like burnt chicken,” he growled. It wasn't the best threat he could muster, but the pilot
surprisingly complied. “Where are we now?” Streek demanded, looking out over the
desert stretch up ahead. “W-We're in the middle of the Catbox Desert,” the pilot
stammered. “I know that much; are there any bases around here?” Streek
demanded beginning to lose patience and charging his claws even more, so that
they hissed sharply. “Up ahead about a third of a mile is another base; I have to
check in there,” the pilot revealed, watching Streek's claws glow. Streek nodded,
acknowledged an incoming call from Scandle, and stepped halfway out of the
cockpit to respond. “Streek Skunk,” he stated. “I just finished a diagnostics scan on
your gear; did you know that your electriclaws will allow you to integrate other
weapons into the Sparkilator form?” Scandle inquired.
“Considering that you never told me that, I didn't.”
“Well, as soon as you can, try it out.”
“Will do.”
“I also uncovered something that you're not going to be happy about.”
“I'm all ears, Scandle.”
“The feds aren't going to let you walk after this mission is over. I just cut in on one of
their transmissions, and they have direct orders to detain and transport you back into
Dominion Hills Detention Center—Finn Cinder himself authorized it,” Scandle started.
Streek's eyes widened, shocked by the news. “I knew they'd never let you go off that
easy. You're only there to do their dirty work and then you'll be locked away. Besides,
you and I both know they only want our technology; their scientists can't produce it
and we wont give it to them, so they'll take yours and try to mass produce it, reverseengineering
the components into their own armors,” Scandle concluded. “Yeah; I
knew it would be too easy; the amnesty, the deal—everything is a lie. I'm basically
here on my own account now. Afterwards, I've got someone to visit,” Streek asserted
sharply. “Should I find a way for your escape?” Scandle offered. Streek contemplated
for a moment, considering the go-ahead option. He could kill this pilot right now, take
the hovercraft to an off-site location and down it, allowing him to escape deep into
the city without a trace. It would be way too easy for him to remove himself from this
mission. What would he return to? He recognized he'd be back to stealing priceless
items to survive, which would eventually wind him up in prison anyway; not very
productive. Then, he turned to his side, watching the nervous pilot as he flew. He
began to remember that this section of their civilization was controlled by technology
similar to his own armor, not to mention, there might still be an attack on the city from
Sinisanta's forces. There'd be no way he could protect the Powerfield or Batteryville if
the robots and special forces in Sinisanta's regime ever got to Jade City. If he came
this far and turned back, he'd never be able to get this far into enemy territory again;
the answer was clear. “I may be here because I was duped, but I've been duped
before and came out fine. If I don't stop Sinisanta Claws, his army will attack our city,
as well as, the Powerfield and Batteryville—I can't let it happen. I'm going to finish out
this mission, and take down this threat, but afterwards, I'm going to take it all the way
back to Finn Cinder,” Streek declared. “Are you sure?” Scandle asked, respecting the
decision, but cautioning as well. Streek nodded, acting as if Scandle could see him,
but them verbalized his answer. “I'm sure. It's either that or I go back to stealing...wind
up in jail...war breaks out...I'd go down without a fight—and you know that's not an
option.” Scandle exchanged laughter at the comment and then sighed. “You're
becoming a hero, Streek. Just be careful; I'm here to assist you,” he added.
“Speaking of assisting, could you put me through to an old friend?” Streek requested.
“A-ha, want to get some special assistance from Batteryville, eh?” Scandle guessed,
already beginning to type away. “Gadgeton,” Streek simply replied. As soon as Streek
turned to look at the pilot, he was struck across the helmet by a laser rifle butt and
stumbled back a bit. It would appear that the pilot was trying to escape, only he
went for the radio after assuming that Streek was unconscious. “This is Craft eighteen,
scrambling—two-thirds of a mile away! I need Screech fighters to assist me!” the pilot
yelled out. Streek stood up, grabbing a handful of the pilot's jumpsuit to turn him
around, and crammed a fist into his jaw to put him out of commission. Afterwards, he
found the mount for the radio and scratched it with his electriclaws. Looking around
at the desert around him, he noticed that up ahead a small platform was beginning
to grow against the horizon—and two black specks had appeared in the sky to the
right. Without hesitation, he shoved the pilot into the copilot seat and took the xshaped
steering wheel, attempting to avoid the two incoming fighters. “Come on!”
he seethed, trying to work with the odd controls, but when he saw a flash of blue from
one of the fighters, and a tailed projectile like a glowing green dart come flying
towards him, he abandoned the controls diving out of the side of the hovercraft as
the green dart made impact and sent the hovercraft up in flames. Falling quickly, he
tumbled so that the two fighters were back in view to his right, and selected the data
chip to activate the Angelwing armor. As soon as his wings were on-line, he soared
upward and headed straight for them, already firing the crossbow weapon on his
right arm. “I've got a visual on you now, Streek; your horizon lock has activated, and
the on-board cam is updating footage to me now,” Scandle reported over the radio.
“Don't waste time on logistics! I need you to analyze the competition immediately! I
gotta know what I'm about to fight!” Streek exclaimed. Suddenly, one of the fighters
shot paired red laser fire on him, causing him to barrel-roll and dive downward. The
two wasp-like fighters shot over him, quickly flanking and regrouping in the air behind
him. Streek's helmet computer snapped a shot of one of the fighters as it passed over,
and analyzed it quickly. “Commencing schematic dissection,” Scandle reported
again, meanwhile Streek climbed upward to the same level as the fighters and
turned to face them. “Scandle, can my hovershoes in the glider mode sustain me in
excessive altitudes?” he asked quickly. “Theoretically; the hovershoes are designed to
only exert enough force to suspend your weight above the ground. If you could
somehow make it to where your weight appears heavier than what it is, then you'd
be able to sustain flight that way,” Scandle suggested. “Alright then, get on it!” Streek
commanded, leaning forward into flight towards the two fighters. Laser fire streaked
across his armor, causing flashes of the metal to heat up and glow momentarily and
then return to normal as he abandoned the Angelwing mode and reverted to Glider
mode. “Do it now!!” Streek yelled as he fell sharply. There was a quick buzz, and then
the view port screen displayed a message, stating an off-site upgrade had been
made, and seconds later, the hovershoes came on-line, suspending him quickly with
a sharp jet-like roar. “Okay, now we're jamming,” Streek laughed. Reaching upward,
he soared behind the two fighters and charged his clawed shock wires as Scandle
radioed back. “The schematics show that these are Drone-I class fighters, illegally
assembled from stolen portions of Regulation aerial fighters. Their double-wing design
gives them control over high-speeds and sharp turns, allowing them to maneuver just
about any possible obstacle course and out-maneuver most popular show-fighter
designs today,” Scandle started. “Yeah, yeah; skip to the part where you tell me how
to destroy them,” Streek sighed. Scandle laughed for a second, and then cleared his
throat, as he often did. “Well, the light alloys used in redesigning the weapons we
thought would be too heavy, are high conductors of electricity; that should give you
some play room,” he finished. Streek smiled at the news, looking at both fighters on his
left and right, and then extended the clawed shock wires that burrowed into the
wings. He began to pulse an electric charge into the wing alloy, causing the two
fighters to behave erratically, and finally they exploded, sending him flying forward.
Regaining his air control, he angled back towards the figure of the base below and
flew at it quickly; no more fighters were sent up. Laser fire from hand lasers and towermounted
lasers shot past him quickly as he circled the base and prepared the next
data chip. Finally locating the flat landing pad, Streek activated his GearChaos
mode and crashed down in a sharp landing. He began firing off his lasers, taking out
robots and armed pilots as he stomped towards the hangar to his left angrily. Within
the square, concrete-constructed hangar were several unmanned fighters lined up in
rows along the far wall, and Streek destroyed all of them with rapid firing and turned
towards the command tower. High up, laser mounts twinkled as they fired green laser
fire on him, and Streek dodged sharply, trying to adjust to the weight of the bulky
armor as he moved. He managed to take out one gunner atop the tower, but the
second one was covered by the railing and the laser mount itself. “Seems like fun,”
Scandle commented through the radio. “Tell me about it. I got a gigantic tower to
take down, here and I don't think it's gonna be easy,” Streek added. “Well, I got your
buddy on the other frequency now, and he's anxious to talk to you as well,” Scandle
stated. “Put him through; the sooner the better,” Streek grunted. Laser fire scorched
his left-arm armor, and he flashed to his left and fired through a pair of robots. “Knock,
knock; who wants to dance?” it was Gadgeton's voice on the other side. “Well now,
long time, old pal, long time,” Streek responded, smiling. “I don't have to tell you that
we've just had a crisis here in Batteryville; some idiot-genius named Sharduck Dark
wanted to take over the grids in the city so that he can advance his army of rebels
into the Powerfield,” Gadgeton updated. “Oh yeah? Well I was just bribed into being
sent into deep hostile territory to take out a threat that our own government forces
couldn't handle—alone. They gave me all of these goodies just to go in and take out
a mercenary kingpin named Sinisanta Claws, mainly because I was a jewel thief and
they couldn't crack into my armor technology when they caught me. Now, I hear
that they were still going to lock me up whenever I complete this mission—even
though I was told that I would be set free,” Streek summarized. “Wow; but knowing
you, there's something you're going to do to let them know that you aren't stupid,
right? So where do I come in?” Gadgeton asked next. “You and I have advanced
technology, primitive and upgraded beyond anyone else's stuff. I'm surrounded by it
here, and I need some back-up in the Deadlands,” Streek explained. Laser fire from
further down seared the sand near him, and Streek reverted back into his Sparkilator
form and flipped to safety behind the tower base. “Well, I really didn't want to leave
the city unguarded at the moment, but if you really need the help, I can see what I
can do. Fair enough?” Gadgeton offered. “Sure; you can find me through Scandle.
He is the only person with the technology to satellite track my armor, so have Tinbolt
communicate with him and he'll send you to me,” Streek inserted. Seconds later, laser
fire emitted again, striking the sand near the tower. Streek turned around and looked
right into the red eyes of a mouth-less robot that had spider-like legs, a steel torso and
arms with laser cannons built into them. On the sides of its torso were a pair of glow
razors, letting Streek know that the droid had retractable hands as well. He quickly
wrapped the shock wires around the head of the robot and began to shock again,
but when he slipped off, he retracted his wires and charged his electriclaws. Dodging
swings and stomps from the robot, he scratched at the torso, cutting into it deeply
and knocking the legs aside until he caught one and pulsed a shock into it. The leg
exploded and the robot stumbled back, but Streek wrapped the wires around its
head once more and commenced shocking it until it seared off and the robotic
body stopped moving. He quickly reached over the body and took both glow razor
bars in his hands, looking them over with interest. “Scandle, how do you work these
things?” he asked. “They seem to have a toggle-motion activation function that is
stimulated by force in the left direction by an index finger.”
“In English, Scandle.”
“Flip the switches with your finger,” Scandle summarized. Streek felt over the grooves
in the cylindrical bars and found the switches on both hands. Holding them out, he
flipped both switches, which then emitted a low hum and a pair glowing blue razors
that resembled a protractor's curve for measuring angles. He didn't have to ask what
they were capable of; he stepped out into the open and waited until the mysterious
shooter fired on him again, and deflected it away. This time, he saw where the firing
came from; the shooter was across the landing pad in one of the open hangar doors.
Activating the integrated hovershoes—which Streek was amazed were still on-line—
he sailed up and over the landing pad and settled down near the hangar. When he
went to attack the shooter, the shooter eyed him oddly first as if he'd recognized him,
but then tried to shoot, and Streek cut his arm off swiftly with the glow razor.
“You're...not...Sparkbolt...are you?” the shooter, who was another armed pilot,
grunted out. Streek shook his head no, and then walked away from him, intending to
leave him alive, when he heard another laser blast and a shriek, and ran back to find
him dead. He stood ready, looking all around for whomever it was that could've shot,
but didn't see anything, and the view port didn't register anything. The base became
ghostly; eerie and silent as Streek turned again to the tower and craned his neck to
look up at its top—and laser fire rained down from the mounted laser once again.