Chapter 179 - Four Is Here~

His name is Hector the Crocodile, and he is watching the interrogation of Sheldon the Hedgehog take place. He does so from the observation deck upstairs, separated from the proceedings by a bulletproof, soundproof, chair-proof glass window. The conversation between Spacio and Sheldon crackles into here, through a speaker.

Spacio can be seen pounding his fist unto the table. He then leans over the table, looking Sheldon square in the face.

"Where were you on the night before Zoonic's murder?" He barks at the brooding mammal.

Sheldon simply scoffs at him, and crosses his arms defiantly. "Don't waste your breath. The only person you'll be hearing from this afternoon is my lawyer."

Hector sighs and rubs at his forehead.

And with her involved, things could get sticky around here.

As if on cue, Spacio can hear the sound of somebody in high heels making their way down the side hallway, toward the interrogation room. Sheldon looks toward the door and then it opens, and Babe the bat walks in. She peers at him from over the sunglasses she wore, then at Spacio, frowning slightly. She takes a seat beside Sheldon.

Spacio promptly backs away from the table. He coughs into his hand and clears his throat a little, before continuing.

"So nice of you to join us, Babe."

"Well, I had to come. What with my client calling me and telling me about how he was wrestled unto the sidewalk, handcuffed, and dragged to your office while on a morning stroll." Babe takes off her sunglasses, and shoots Spacio a deadly glare. "Where's your arrest warrant again, officer?"

Sheldon nearly gets murdered by Dusters one day, and today he's under thinks, feeling frustrated, despite her calm exterior.

What would he do without me?

Spacio throws an envelope he had been holding unto the table, startling both Sheldon and Babe.

"We have evidence that directly ties Sheldon to the scene of the crime." Spacio says. Babe cautiously retrieves the envelope, and proceeds to open it. She glances at a photo she pulls out of it, and gasps. Spacio paces back and forth about the room, as he continues, "That would be a footprint. And, when we ran it through our database, it showed to be a one hundred percent match to Sheldon's – placing him at the scene of the crime." Spacio stops walking and smirks cockily at Sheldon, who is averting his eyes.

Babe replaces the photo and pushes the envelope away.

"Be that as it may, you are yet to present an official warrant." She stands, lifting Sheldon by his arm out of his chair, too. "So, my client and I will be leaving now…"

"No Babe, I think we should stay." Sheldon sits down again. Before she can protest, he adds, "Everyone needs to know once and for all that I didn't kill Zoonic."

…

No more than an hour later, the door to the upstairs observation deck opens, and Hector is joined by a sober-looking Spacio; his interrogation with Sheldon having just wrapped up. He takes a seat across from Hector, the unmistakable scent of tobacco heavy on his breath, stinking up the tiny room as he exhaled.

"We've got a matching footprint, handprints, hair samples, and even…blood and stool samples, which are currently being tested." Spacio says, giving Hector a sharp look. "This case is as good as solved, as soon as we get those results."

"Still, you could've just showed them our warrant, Spacio." Hector says, frowning. "You might have had a chance at squeezing a confession out of him, if he stayed a while longer."

Spacio sighs, "As much evidence as we have on him, I still have my doubts." He drums his fingers on the table, which Hector had long come to recognize as a sign of him being in deep thought. "If we ever do lock him up, it'll be because I am one hundred percent certain of his guilt. Not because I had a warrant, and managed to bully a confession out of him."

He pulls a plastic Ziploc bag out of his coat pocket, which contains a cellphone. To be precise, it is a Blackberry with a distinct, bright blue skin that had been recovered at the murder scene. "To think, that in the end, this one cellphone may be the difference between a lifetime in prison and walking free for our perp."

It is Zoonic's cellphone.

…

Her name is Babe the bat and she has just arrived at her apartment with Sheldon. She closes the door behind her, throws her keys unto a dresser and looks at Sheldon. He seems to be avoiding direct eye contact with her; instead looking around her dining room, scratching his head vacantly.

Sheldon had lived his entire life in tenements and in the Sheldons of police cars – so, walking through Babe's place for the first time, was like stepping into another world for him. Here, there is no peeling paint, or lopsided ceiling. Even the freshly polished mahogany wood flooring impressed him, and the fact that not a single cockroach or spider was in sight. Paintings of various scenes: the sky over a canyon, a basket of fruits before an open window looking unto a harbor, two smiling girls in a field, decorated the cream orange colored walls.

"Sheldon, did you do it?"

Babe's voice brings Sheldon's wandering mind back to focus.

She had said on the drive that she had questions to ask him, and so he was not caught off guard. Still, he found himself struggling to think of a way to respond.

"No way." He finally says, shrugging, and pouting his lip like a stubborn child.

"All of that evidence they collected, though…"

"I just fucking said no way, Babe." Sheldon snaps and pounds his fist unto the dining room table, quieting her instantly. "You know how I feel about Zoonic, and that there's no way I could have killed him, especially not on the day after we..." Sheldon is broken off by his sobbing, and he covers his face with both of his hands, in an attempt to hide his tears. Babe leans toward him, wanting to offer some comfort, but he ducks away from her reach. "I can understand if you think it was me, though. I'm not exactly the coolest guy on the streets, after all. I've been in a few fights, in my time." He falls down unto his knees, and sniffles incessantly.

"I never said that I think it was you, Sheldon." Babe says quietly, gently easing her way next to him.

"I don't care what the evidence points to. I know you, so I know that you loved Zoonic, and although you two were once rivals, you would never have actually killed him. "

She places her hands unto the hedgehog's shoulders and turns him around, so that he is facing her. Uncovering his face, he looks unto her with eyes stained red by a combination of tears and many sleepless nights. "You're not as bad a guy as you think, Sheldon. But, somebody is trying to frame you. And, until that somebody is found, you're staying here with me, okay?" Babe says, squeezing his shoulder and smiling warmly.

Sheldon cannot resist smiling too, in knowing that from this instant, Babe would always have his back, and together, they would find a clear way out of this entire ordeal.

His name is Milton Buzzy Crower, and he is just waking up from the night of his life.

It is a Monday morning, two days after the murder of Zoonic the Hedgehog The sun is rising in the Mobius sky, but Buzzy is so exhausted after yesterday's roughhousing that he can only roll out of bed and unto the floor, pulling his sheet with him.

Lying on the floor is his discarded pair of jeans pants, which he picks up, dons carelessly; not even bothering to button them properly. He trudges his way to the bathroom, but stops for a second, and looks at his bed. For the first time, there was somebody else lying there other than himself – he sees the naked back of Lanie Rose peeking out from underneath the bed sheets, asleep and glistening flawlessly. She was like an angel, in the faint rays of the morning sun, which shined through a slit in the curtain overhead, it seemed to him.

It's like a dream come true, thinks to himself in a dreary haze, a faint, self-satisfied smile forming on his lips.

In the bathroom, he opens up the mirror cabinet over the sink, and takes out a razor and a can of shaving cream. As he closes the cabinet door, something catches his eye in the mirror's reflection. Something he could have never expected to see in even his wildest nightmares.

No, it can't be, there's no way!

He turns around slowly; reluctantly, to see – standing there, leaning against the wall next to the bath tub…

…none other than Zoonic the Hedgehog.

"Enjoying yourself are you, 'ole buddy?"

"Zoonic, w-w-what are you…?" Buzzy is frozen with fear. Zoonic is striding toward him, his face contorting into an expression of sheer anger, as his eyebrows tighten and his jaw clenches. "Oh God please, if this is about Lanie I promise I'll never talk to her again!" Buzzy gets down on his knees and begs. "I didn't mean for things to go this way. I'm sorry, man!"

Zoonic heaves Buzzy off of the ground with a grip around his neck. "You think this is about Lanie? Do you really think I give two shits about what you do to her?!" He pushes Buzzy with great force, throwing him against the kitchen sink.

Falling unto the ground and shaking from the impact, Buzzy shirks into the corner farthest from Zoonic.

"Then why are you here? What did I do?" Buzzy raises his voice a few decibels, his heart pounding rapidly.

Zoonic looks like he is about to answer, but is cut off by a surge of vomit. A projection of the disgusting green liquid rains down on Buzzy, and all he can do is cower and try to cover his face with his arms. "You know what you did, Buzzy." The flow of the vomit is slowed enough for him to speak, but minute amounts still drip down the sides of his mouth, like raindrops, following the passing of a great storm. He is shivering when he continues, saying, "You murdered me Buzzy. It's because of you that I have to suffer like this."

Buzzy can feel the vomit coating the fur of his arm. Seeping into the floor underneath him, like some foul creature with a mind if its own. The smell alone is terrible, but all Buzzy can do is cover his eyes with his hands and squirm helplessly against his corner, hoping and praying for dear life. He peeks between the spaces of his fingers…

The image of Zoonic has disappeared.

Not only that, but there is no trace of the vomit that had only moments before covered the floor like a slick of oil.

It was almost as if Zoonic had never been there at all.