And where was Caz in all of this?

Um, kinda freaking out, actually. She didn't know any of these people, save for the orange one, who she remembered only through the dusty, kaleidoscope lenses of pseudo-consciousness. When Jam came in, she was just happy to have somebody other than the news anchors on TV to talk to. By the time Teck came in, she was a bit confused but only slightly overwhelmed by his (frankly, overwhelming) presence... even if she did emit a quiet "Hey!" when he started leaning on her gurney.

Cue the fellow with what looked like a freakin' laser beam gun, and she started feeling a little uncomfortable.

Not that she expected world class treatment under these circumstances, but... Eeeeeee.

"Um... I, oh wow." Gulp.

oh God he's got a gun why is he carrying a gun what does he need a gun for look at the size of that thing why is it so large why does he need it to be so large

"Uh... I was, just talkin' to..."

does he work for the president oh man he probably works for the president he could probably legally execute every one of us what did I even do I was just taking a nap I just wanted to change the channel is that so wrong

"...Can you guys talk about this, somewhere else, for a little?"

---

So it turned out, the cat and the monkey went out for a stroll.

Hearing him speak, Ace could sense the air of tension in Rock's voice, but all the same recognized the fact that over yonder beach lay the famous Tails and slightly less famous, but no less ridiculously named Knuckles. He knew just as well as anyone else, if those two showed up, it generally meant crap was goin' down, and if nothing else, even eavesdropping could prove useful enough.

"I think they'd know more than we do, at least," he replied. "After you, sir," he said in a jest, motioning Rock's advancement like a butler would to his employer.

(Wordy, but... yeah, sorry. :B)

"..."

It didn't take a professional psychiatric analysis for Teck to come to the conclusion that his sincere apology was basically thrown back at his face. So far, getting sincere albeit scatterbrained attempts to be of good fortitude thrown back in his face seemed to a recurring trend as of today, so he saw it necessary to rid himself of the stress. With a lone and resolute bow, he made way for the door - nobody was forcing him to stay as it was. "Alright, then I'm leaving - again, sorry for the trouble I've caused."

Turning to the ladies he bowed once more, "Ladies. Cheers."

On his way down the hallway, he thought long and hard about today's most unfortunate happenings. Yet, ever the inner optimist, his chin was up and he exited that door a free porcupine - he came clean of his mistakes and lent his mitigation. What more could be done? As the door swung upon and the crisp sunlight bathed his matte orange pelt and his constricting pupils, he wasted no time in disrobing his jacket from the sudden surge of ambiant heat. "Bah, heat."

Soon came to the end of the president's ruined yard... then the end of the ruined curb... then the end of the entire ruined street, like fading slides as he strolled along and along the silent carnage that still spoke volumes of a disastrous erstwhile happening. Then he stopped, all of the terrible and self-degrading adjuncts of today's events crashing down upon him like a brutal tsunami scaling incomprehensible heights - it was with this very billow of shame that he came to his wits end and realized something very, very important and decisive to his future well-being and continued sanity...

"Christ, I need a drink.."

And so he made a beeline for the nearest bar. Well, not quite a beeline but a spirited jog to and fro. He eventually happened upon a rundown and dilapidated old joint called Shiver's in the far downtown reaches of the city. Alas, as he laid eyes on the wooden door that concealed his alcohol promised land, just like everything else, it was closed in light of the disaster that has taken place. "Oh for bloody Wockies at sea," sighing helplessly, he slammed his back into the locked doorway, his weight sliding down and ending in a firm seat on the stone step. "They'd 'ave prolly' ID'd me anyway," he said, stretching his legs and winding down as it were. In times like these, he always found comfort in simply looking straight up to the skies, past the jeweled blue atmosphere and into what he knew were the far reaches of space and imagining the beauty and luster that concealed itself from man and animalkind without the use of advanced telescopes. Nebulae, novae, supernovae, galaxies, stars... so much out there left undiscovered, even by a professional such as he. His eyes closed and he started to lull into a drowsed state. The heat from the sunlight coupled with the pleasantly refreshing breeze didn't help him maintain an awakened state by any means, so before he knew it, he was asleep at the entrance of a bar - by the time he'd wake up, it was anybody's guess as to how many dollar bills, change, or citations would be found at his feet.

The Major's stern, cold stare lingered at the doorway as Teck took his leave. He said nothing more of that end of the spectrum.

He looked back to the monkey, and if he found her answer (and state) amusing, he didn't mention it, though his eyes were faintly humorous amidst the stony expression. "Sparky and Joe gave me the rundown. You put yourself at risk but you got the job done. We appreciate it, so I felt it would be appropriate to compensate you somehow." The words came out a little stiff--he had no problem complimenting people, but he didn't do it often and it probably showed.

He pulled from the bag what looked like the pistol version of the rifle he'd brought in--the barrel was glassy-green too, and slightly curved downwards as it got closer to the mouth. He set it on the table and pulled out another of its kind, then stepped closer to her, however greatly she would have preferred that to not happen. "It isn't much, but it might be handy to have in case you can't use your thunderstorm trick for some reason. Should work well against robots. Just don't point it at Sparky, he's already wary about you now that you blasted about fifty thousand volts through his body."

With his other hand he clapped an energy cell into the plasma pistol and held it out to Jam. As he did so he glanced at the girl in the bed. "I'm leaving one for you too. I don't need it hanging over my head if you leave here and end up getting hurt again."

A way of apologizing for the scene moments earlier, perhaps. He must have felt that everyone loved getting guns as presents. Not that he could do much else.

There was something weirdly entertaining about watching people react to getting awesome gifts. Given their reactions, it wasn't hard to question oneself whether or not giving them such equipment was a good idea--he didn't even know if either of them had ever so much as held a gun before--but in the face of a conflict like the one they were all diving headfirst into, he found he didn't care that much. Besides, Cross had the tendency to do as he pleased, and he had found it worked well for him.

"They're plasma pistols," he explained, since he got the impression neither of them really had an idea what they were holding and recklessly aiming and drooling over. "I had to secure some better weaponry for my people, and we had some leftovers. They fire superheated bolts of plasma, so they're powerful little suckers. Take care of them." ... He watched Jam aim it at everything in the room and considered the mole's question at the same time... "And don't point them at anything you don't want to annihilate," he said as kind of an afterthought, to both of them.


*****Meanwhile, we find our heroes deep in the... okay, they're sleeping outside a bar.******


About how long would it take someone to notice Teck laying there snoozing? Not very long at all, actually. At least, not long enough to get any money from sympathetic passers-by, unfortunately for the porcupine, unless the stranger had already taken it.

"Ain't that a shame," said the tealy-green lizard suddenly standing over him, half-chewing on a hot dog. With mustard! "Wonder how long he's been dead."

The lizard gave Teck a couple of not-very-soft kicks, because kicking someone was the best way to wake them up if they were dead.

The Major's focus pointed itself at Caz, and he made sure to stare down at her long and blankly enough to be certain the answer was made clear.

"Sixteen shots," he eventually told Jam. His left hand lowered to his own copy of the weapon, which he carried now in addition to his standard sidearm. He pulled it loose from the holster and held it aloft for her to see, then ejected the energy cell with his other hand. It looked virtually no different from ejecting a magazine from a conventional firearm. "Loads the same way as your typical burner." Man-slang for gun. Soldiers. "I'll leave some ammo on the table for you. Should be enough to last you a while."

He went to do so, putting the gun away. "What are you going to do?" he asked them while going through the bag again. "Are you going to stay here and hunker down until this storm passes?"

*************

It was hard to tell whether or not the reptile had been serious about the offer, but he gave no complaint when his precious consumable was taken. In fact, he looked a little amused by the other guy, or maybe by their exchange, but his face was one that seemed suited to holding an easy smile--or was it a smirk?--twenty-four hours of the day.

"Rick. Folks like to call me Velo 'cause it's cooler than Rick," he said, even though it almost came out sounding like Vellah. Whether or not he had a problem with being called a basilisk went unshowed--he must have heard that a lot. He held out his hand in case the guy felt like getting off the dirty sidewalk any time soon. "What in the hey you doin' layin' around out here, anyhows? Them zombie robots blow up your science lab or somethin'?"