Under the cover of darkness, Rouge had escorted Coop to an apartment building, and hurried him inside one of the apartments near the top floor. She had let him in through the balcony door, to avoid security cameras, and had only turned on the lights once she had made sure all the blinds were drawn.

“This is just a little place I have,” she said, “when I’m down on my luck! There’s food, there’s money—although I guess you won’t need that. Half the city’s nearly covered with GUN Beetles. The other half,” she added, smiling as if the whole situation was a tremendous joke, “is covered in Hot Shots.”

“This is the bedroom,” she had said, as she led him through a doorway, into another room that was furnished with a gigantic wardrobe, an equally gigantic make-up table, and a bed that could swallow Dr. Eggman without leaving a trace. “I know it’s a bit much, but I’m sure you’ll get used to it.”

She led him back into the main room, without waiting for questions.

“There are things to eat, there are things to drink, if you like tap water—we’re far enough away from Chemical Plant that I don’t think it’ll be a problem—don’t leave the apartment,” she instructed.

“GUN will be looking for you everywhere. Me too,” she added, smiling, “but I’m a government agent, so at least they can’t arrest me without the President’s permission.”

She led him over to the solitary telephone in the apartment, and picked up the receiver. The phone boooooooooooed gently as she talked.

“This phone will encrypt your calls, but only to phones that can receive it. So watch who you’re calling—GUN can listen to anyone’s phone they like, and with the whole city in an uproar, I’m sure they’ll have enough precedent to start listening to everyone.”

“The code to activate the encryption is *323,” she said and put the receiver back down. The distant buzzing of the dial tone disappeared. Then she said:

“Now how about you? Any questions?”

She crossed her arms and looked at him.

Coop had sat down in one of the chairs in the living area. He didn’t answer, staring darkly at a far corner of the kitchen.

There was silence, while Rouge looked around the apartment, and then:

“You really don’t know anything, do you?” she asked.

“What?” Coop asked, looking up, sharply. His face was worn with lack of sleep and constant harrying, and now with extreme annoyance.

“About GUN’s involvement in this,” the bat went on, “you don’t really have any proof that they were behind any of what happened to you in Chemical Plant.”

Coop looked at her, and then looked away.

“…No,” he said with a scowl.

“Hmph,” said Rouge, “well, I’m sure we’ll all have enough proof eventually. Until then, I suppose you should get back to your little mission.”

“…What?”

“You know,” she said, “blowing up government property, causing trouble. Not right away, though. GUN is still all over your old hideout; I suppose they’re trying to figure out what you were up to.”

“…Wh—”

Rouge turned to face him, the backs of her hands planted on her hips.

“Anything wrong?” she asked, smiling with only a hint of malicious glee.

Coop stared at her in confusion.

“…What’s your problem?” he asked, beginning to sound annoyed, “what are you doing?”

“Hm?” the bat intoned, blandly.

“Why—you want me to keep going?”

“Well, what else am I going to do?” She queried, as if her motives were the most self-evident things in the world, “it’s not like I can just keep a convicted criminal in my apartment, and I think that’s the last of GUN’s prisons we’ll see for a while, don’t you think?”

“…Hah,” said the big eagle, bitterly, “so—why are you doing this?”

He snorted.

“Government work not as clean as you thought it’d be?”

“It’s clean enough,” Rouge sniffed, airily. She turned away from Coop again, and wandered over to the curtains that hung across the balcony door. Imperceptibly, she leaned up to the curtains, peering through the narrow slit between the two cloth drapes.

Coop stood up, his irritation growing.

“So why did—why’d you break me out? Is—do I owe you a favour? Is that it?”

“Hm,” she said, archly, “why would I need the services of a terrorist? I don’t think I like what you’re implying,” she said, sounding more pleased than anything.

“Anyway, you’ll be out of here in a few days, and then how will I find you? I’m sure you have a place of your own to hide in.”

“…Fine,” said Coop. “Fine, alright,” he repeated, resignedly, “I can live with that.”

“Mmm-hm,” said Rouge. “Well, I guess that’s all for now. I’ll see you in a little while, and—“ she said, moving to take a card and a pen from the desk, and scribbling something on it, “call this number if you need anything, and remember—press *323, first.”

Rouge pressed the card back down onto the desk with two fingers, and straightened up again.

“I guess I’ll just let myself out by the balcony,” she said, and slipped through the drapes. There was a gentle rumble as she opened the sliding door, then Rouge poked her head back into the room. “So long,” she added, and smiled, and then she was gone.

Coop waited for a few moments, and then scowled. He rubbed the back of his head with a hand, and stared at the floor.

“Hmph,” he said, and looked at the phone, sitting on the desk.

“Hmph,” he said again, and looked away.

After a few more moments, he seemed to wilt, slightly. His shoulders slumped. Then he sighed, and flopped back into the chair, and closed his eyes.


searchindextag
chapter2search