Chapter 183 - 8 Nwo

"Who are you calling now? Get the hell over here and help." Dusters hollers at Jake.

Upon entering Buzzy's house, the two were met by a barely conscious and feverish Lanie Rose, collapsed on the floor holding a frying pan. Jake had immediately dialed 9-11 while Dusters struggled to provide some emergency assistance to her.

"Something's coming out of her mouth." Dusters says as he lays her flat on her back, against the cold hardwood. "Jesus Jaket she's puking. Get me a towel or something."

Nodding, Jake Tornbright runs down the hall and through Buzzy's bedroom, stopping for a moment to examine the messy state of his bed, in an otherwise impeccable room.

"Ah, so that's what this is about." He says under his breath, then turns and enters the bathroom to find that towel..

...

Hector retrieves a roll of tobacco from his back pocket, unwraps it, then promptly spits it out into a nearby trash can. He is seated on a stool at the kitchen counter of the Hendrix Detective Agency, Cammy floating and the strange visitor still present, surrounding him.

"You're a federal agent, aren't you?" He says, directed at Silver. "Don't worry, you can tell me."

Silver reveals his badge and identification without any hesitation. "We should share our facts. This thing is beginning to spread.

Cammy sneaks away from the pair and turns on the nearby television, which is turned to a local news channel.

"...emergency city council meeting being held on what is now believed to be dysentery outbreak in Morpheus." The newscaster says, and the screen is then possessed by a crowd of hawking rodents with video cameras huddled around the steps of the bright and polished city council building.

"It's all over the news now." Hector grumbles.

"We're beginning to think it's a form of biological warfare. But who? And why?" Silver questions aloud, stroking his chin thoughtfully. Then he looks at Hector. "And have you established any link between the contraction of dysentery and Zoonic the Hedgehog's murder?"

"No. That seems like a dead end." Hector signals to Cammy, who briefly removes himself into the next room, and returns shortly after with a plain manila folder tucked under his arm. He hands this folder to Hector, who opens it and removes a couple of photographs from within then slides across the counter to Silver. He takes them up and looks at them.

"Those were taken at the crime scene. We have footprints, DNA, blood and even fecal samples that tie Sheldon to the scene but something still doesn't check out."

"The green substance isn't really vomit, is it?"

"Cammy ran a check. It seemed less biological. More chemical. Created."

Silver places the photographs back unto the table. He somehow looks somewhat annoyed by this information.

"A penny for your thoughts, detective?" says Hector.

The snow white hedgehog steps away, his arms crossed behind his back. Something was obviously concerning him. "Well, there have been similar cases like this in other cities across the board. The bizarre green substance. The gruesome killing. The dysentery outbreak. Footprint. Fecal. Blood samples."

He turns around again. There is a steely look in his eyes; the kind of look only a detective who feels he is on the verge of cracking a case can really possess.

"But we also have video evidence of one of the crimes being committed. "

...

The doors of the dispatched ambulance slam shut, with Lanie Rose laid out on a stretcher within. Jake and Dusters are conversing with a member of the medical personnel in Tail's front lawn when a familiar Toyota Hybrid pulls up to the curb.

"What the hell is going on here?" Buzzy says when he emerges from the driver's seat, and approaches the two. "Where's Lanie?"

The medical personnel re-enters the ambulance and it begins to pull out into the street. Buzzy makes a motion to go after it but Dusters stops him.

"They think it might be dysentery. Like in the news."

Buzzy falls to his knees.

"I'm sure she'll be fine." Dusters adds, placing a hand on his friend's trembling shoulder.

Buzzy casts him a glare. "What were you two doing here, anyway?"

Dusters exchanges looks with Jake, who nods.

"We want to ask you some questions. It has to do with Zoonic."

Sheldon the grieving hedgehog dips the clear plastic needle into his flesh, throwing his head back as he is overcome by a sick ecstasy when the life-bestowing liquid rushes into his veins.

God damn it...

He sputters and coughs: 40% shitbrew vodka, 60% saliva, the now empty bottle in his left hand clanging against the brick wall when the arm jolts reflexively upon old needle meeting bare flesh.

Why couldn't I be there for you?

Sitting in an alleyway that cuts between two ramshackle apartment complexes in downtown Morpheus, the self-abusing hedgehog had hoped for a little privacy, but a frightened little gasp highlights the futility of his mission for one is never truly alone in the slums.

Creole the rabbit had gone grocery shopping that morning and by mere fate had glimpsed one of Sheldon's spikes poking out from behind a trash can while stooping to pick up a dropped apple.

"Sheldon, is that you?"

The needle right now injecting its deadly toxins into his arm pauses momentarily, its wielder's mind a mess of random thoughts and Zoonics, muffling Creole's voice to a barely discernible whisper. He struggles to regain control; to form a decision of whether to plunge himself deeper into the abyss or to pull out and run for it. She of all people couldn't see him like this. No, not Creole. Anyone but Creole.

Sheldon!

...is the last thing he could remember when he awakens on the meticulously arranged floral patterned couch in Creole's living room, the fan overhead spinning with a rhythmic whoof whoof whoof. Falling unconscious had become a regular thing for him lately, he realizes with a heavy sigh.

He struggles unto his feet and peers around the archway that leads into the kitchen, where a familiar tan rabbit in a dirty apron is tending to an assortment of pots in varying shapes and sizes being heated on the stove.

She turns and when she sees him standing there sets her ladel on a piece of countertop draped with paper towel then crosses her arms.

"I'm making beef and carrot stew. You can have some."

Sheldon the embarrassed nods, scratching the back of his head. Creole was ten years younger than he and, despite being in her late teens at best, the firmness in her voice was like that of a fully confident adult. A far cry from the bouncy bunny who used to cheer for him at basketball tournaments.

The black-furred mammalian junkie says the first thing that came to his mind when he first saw her in that downtown alley.

"Creole, I'm sorry..."

She walks up to him and slaps him across the face. Hard. Almost enough to knock the buzz out of him, but not quite.

"It's not me you should be apologizing to." Creole snaps at him.

It's yourself. The words flash in his head before she could finish, although she knew he knew so she didn't. Creole was just smart like that. "But, why? Why the drugs? What happened to you?"

"I could have saved him, Creole." Sheldon mumbles into his gloved hand, sobbing. "Zoonic didn't have to die. I could have stopped it."

"Hey, hey, what happened? This isn't the Sheldon I know..."

"You don't understand. Machinekirk set him up, and I was a part of his plan. I'm the reason Zoonic is dead. Istarted the dysentery outbreak in Morpheus." He growls. "It's too big for the police to handle now. Thousands of people are going to die and it's all my fault."

Creole grabs him by the shoulders with all the brusqueness a single woman with standards living in the projects must possess in order to survive. "Well, what are you gonna do about it now, Sheldon, besides cry like a little bitch?" She looks him dead in the eye and with some hesitation he looks back, until finally after so many days of floundering around feeling sorry for himself, a new resolve starts to awaken in Sheldon.

"I need to end this before it's too late."

…

"This was filmed by a security camera situated outside of a restroom at a branch of the United Forest National Bank in Terminal City." Silver the Hedgehog says of the video playing on his laptop, with Hector, Cammy and Spacio huddled around him.

He pauses when a coyote in a well-pressed naval uniform decorated with polished golden adornments is seen walking toward the camera.

"This is Anthony Coolio, our unfortunate vic, seen here entering the restroom at fifteen to one."

The cookie cutter metrosexual walks out of frame when he resumes.

"He will not emerge from that restroom again. But someone else will, at around the same time the coroner reports that the vic was murdered."

A hedgehog with black spikes featuring red highlights emerges into view just as he specified, wearing the same oversized pair of Air Jordans he did when he was being interviewed at the Hendrix Office just yesterday.

Spacio leans forward to get a closer look. "No way." He says under his breath.

"Looks like your hunch was wrong, Spacio. That is definitely Sheldon." Hector says, then points to the door. "Book him, fellas!"