As the first wave rolled up on the beach, there was something glittering, gleaming in the foam:

A pair of purple sunglasses.

And then came a second splash—Or more like a groan, followed by a thunderous roar. The first sizable roll of surf did not in any way compare with the utter tidal wave that followed; were the Tornado parked anywhere near the beach, it'd soon be parked somewhere else entirely when a shimmering, towering wall of water descended from on high, and flopped its chaotic mass onto the shore with crushing force. The full extent of the wave's reach was some distance into into town, though its destructive power was well broken before it reached its first building, threatening only to moisten the carpets of a restaurant here, or a bank's vestibule there.

Once the waters receded and drained away, there was utter silence, and certainly no sign of Knuckles.

"EeeeYES," the mole happily exclaimed, grabbing at the dried meat not too desperately to add a "thank you" at the end. "But the joke's on you, my friend. I only need six more Pleasure Points™ until I can afford my own Rugged Red cowboy hat! Ha-ha..." And she began wrestling with the plastic package to reveal her prize within (with a very small degree of difficulty).

"Pleasure Points for my beeeef jerky, eheh heheh."

*POP*

"Hey, I'm cool with sharing some with you," she said to the departing monkey, producing a strip, putting it in her mouth, and using every muscle in her head trying to chew the rough hide. "'Dese shings urr shupposh'd t'be rearry goo' f'roo, y'dow."

---

And as Caz busied herself attacking a slice of beef jerky, Ace was under attack. By the ocean.

Luckily there was only a brief, fleeting moment where Ace experienced the painfully stupid, hate-yourself-later phenomena known as deer in the headlights syndrome. It was hard not to be simply amazed by the sheer mass of H20 coming to crush him. ("Oh, crap.") Thankfully, it was shook off quickly enough (he hoped), and he started hauling ass towards the only form of cover he could find.

A lamp post.

...No, that wasn't going to work.

But he was out of options and out of time, so, hey, he improvised. He whipped off his jacket, wrapped it around the lamp post, held on to the sleeves with a kung fu grip, and as the massive wave came crashing down, he braced himself. He was almost very literally blown out of his socks as the mass of water set him in a waggling horizontal posture, his stomach level with the ground. But his 'plan' actually seemed to be working for a bit, at least until a stray whiskey bottle of all things came to greet him. In the face.

And, as expected, he was subsequently tossed about the streets, smacking and almost smacking into a number of things. As luck would have it, he would eventually roll (back-first and upside-down) into the bus that the others stood by, coughing out the water in his throat.

"...Why is it, that when I have a bad feeling about something," he hacked, standing himself with some obvious aggravation. "I'm always right?"

(We're downtown. We'd notice the noise and maybe some traveling flooding waters but not as much of a brunt as those at ground zero. At least this is what I recall, correct me if I'm wrong.)

"Not much I don't hear, m'boy, I've just been... putting it off, though. Several hours in this cracktown and you accustom yourself to odd noises. Either way, it's quite a pleasure to meet you, Juneau, you can call me Teck."

But when someone else couldn't resist posing their curiosities to this bizarre sound, that's when Teck's attention was officially drawn. He peeked over Velo's shoulder seeing as how the Basilisk was in his way from gazing out into the direction of the beach. The tidal wave had already hit the ground by then, and all Teck could see with his horrendous vision was a light glisten from the somewhat-distant flooding waters as the afternoon sunlight beat against them. It made it look as though they were close to the ocean even though he was certain they weren't. "Is the water supposed to be that close to us, guys?"

The monkey looked on with some sympathy at the harried boy as he twirled from one concern to the next, first from Knuckles, and then to the Tornado, which Rock could only presume was the aircraft he'd seen the kid flying moments before.

"He's probably gonna need help," he commented to Ace, with a suggesting look. "You mind? I gotta make a call."

He jutted a thumb toward a nearby phone booth, which miraculously still stood (though a little crookedly). It was partially filled with murky water, and looked to contain seaweed, and maybe a fish, but it'd have to do.



OOC: Assuming nobody has objections, I'll probably skip us ahead to the evening or something and open a new thread after closing this one up with another round of posts.

OOC: Oh, and I didn't mean that as a "stop RPing in this thread now," by the way. If you've got something to react to, by all means proceed on. I was just letting you know I haven't checked out, and that I intend on moving things forward in a meaningful way for us, but circumstances have not been conducive to spending time on RP stuff.