◤𝕊𝕙𝕒𝕕𝕒𝕞𝕪◢ - It Started With Vomit!

Chapter 17: Search and Rescue

"She won't attack you."

"You don't know that. A person passes at least 36 murderers in their lifetime."

"Tails," Amy punched him hard from the back, "Don't make it 37." Barely 2 seconds later, she thrust again—harder, to iterate her lethal intent if he did not choose on his own to loosen his grip on the steering wheel, click his belt tongue open, and exit the vehicle.

Outside, Blaze greeted her less-than-pleased companion, who replied with a muffled yelp. 

"Another person will join us shortly," she stated, unsure how else to thaw the palpable ice besieging his body. She continued in a firm tone, deciding that the trivial matter could wait altogether till their next encounter. "They're familiar with Rouge, free, and have offered to help."

"Right..."

The fox recoiled deep into his collar bone, his golden fur sticking out like a frightened prey who clearly itched to run in the opposite direction of what he described as a "towering predator wearing a scary expression"—which Blaze heard Amy dispute as "maternal rage."

Yes, she was ablaze with rage and positively filled with malevolence. But it was not directed at Tails, but rather toward whoever held Rouge hostage at the moment. However, that fact didn't matter when paired with her countenance because she still thoroughly assaulted Tails' nerves. Any attempt to assuage his fear hadn't worked earlier, so they certainly will not later into the night. Why even bother? Blaze thought inwardly.

Dressed in a long beige blazer and hooded by a pale baseball cap, "Miles!" Shadow shot a penetrating stare at the whimpering chauffeur before tossing a mini headset through the crisp night winds. "Look sharp!" He commanded, walking around the car. Then, opening the passenger door for Amy, who, similarly dressed, scurried to Blaze's side to hug her friend and present the exact gadget, he added: "And stay proactive, we haven't time to lose." 

"Yes sir!"

Amy held Blaze's frosty hands in her warm pair, fresh out of the car's cozy interior, feeling depressed at the less-than-ideal manner they had to meet again. It suddenly dawned on her that there were plenty of possible apprehensive outcomes that dictated things going south super quickly. 

"God above..." Out poured ever-endearing sentiments. "If anything goes wrong, don't hesitate to call. Safety always comes first—we are no cops! So, don't go charging in headfirst. We'll be back in 15 or 20 minutes. A-and someone had better be with Sticks. Knuckles, perhaps?"

"He knows nothing about this."

"What? But why?"

"I'll explain everything, but you have to go now."

"Knuckles can't possibly be that petty. A breakup never connotes abandoning a person entirely!"

"Rose!" Shadow bellowed; she gave no response.

"Um, just tell the others that I—"

"We need to get going!"

"Suffering Jehovah!" She snapped, sending a nasty glare at his hasty silhouette which, for the millionth time, itched to repeat the refractory habit she found very irritating: saying a person's name with heavy condescension. "Tell them that I love them."

"You act like this will last forever."

"Please?"

Blaze laughed. "Do you even have to ask?"

* * *

Suffering under the ungodly silence that had ensued, Tails, behind Blaze, strolled nervously from the parting car, approaching apprehensive territory that ignited queer lub-dub patterns in place of regular heartbeats. Then by spotting an approaching petit rabbit, the sensation doubled—hell, it'd tripled! 

She firmly squeezed the intimidating cat who reciprocated with gentle head pats, whimpering tender words he couldn't hear, as he was too enthralled in her fuzzy ears... elfin frame... or maybe the natural blush playing across her cheeks in pitch darkness was his hypnotizer.

"I met Sticks along the way... I had to come."

The cat smiled, looking a hundred times sweeter (?) which tore him from his muddled train of thoughts; the juxtaposition, hugely puzzling. "The more eyes, the better," she said.

How does a cute, whimpering bunny in the arms of a daunting cat, both friends with a spunky hedgehog, all looking for a sensual bat, correlate? He'd fit in perfectly as the... cowardly fox. Yeah, that's it!

The bit of childish thinking helped unravel his tense muscles—"Cream"—until they hitched back up again when the bunny's pearl-honey eyes landed on his. "This is Mr. Fox," Blaze made the introductions. "Mr. Fox, Miss Rabbit."

Sputtering inelegant greetings, he finally found composure; a sporadic type within him that longed to create a lasting impression on her. "I sincerely hope we find your friend," he ad-lib.

"Thank you. Us, too." 

Us too? The cat wasn't who I meant to please—just you! 

"It'd be very unfortunate if she doesn't turn up." Any pride he held for his small talk skills immediately dwindled when the rabbit's ears slumped further down than they were already.

"What I m-meant is... uh," he rambled on aimlessly. "She may be dead"—her eyelids creased —"But dying is simply out of the question because we most definitely will find her!" At the crazy, muddled, stupid, uncouth possibility, like Cream, he felt his stomach perform nervous somersaults. And no matter how hard he tried to placate the unease, only unpleasant words left his mouth canal; the fact they were more words than he'd spoken the entire evening, too, made him feel extra stupid.

"Nobody will die, Mr. Fox." Miss Cat's previous stare resurfaced, instilling fear in him at once, to which he responded (again) with a standard, one-word reply: "R-right." 

Succinctly, the pair strolled ahead, both their eyes peeled on every passing stranger's visage. 

"Sticks drove to her apartment," Blaze said more than asked. Prepared, Cream reported her findings like a diligent, timely office lady... which she was. "I checked all her social media and Rouge was last seen exactly here: cacophonous chaos, 20:10 PM." 

Having not spoken since their fallout, she knew very little about Rouge's activities—the dating app fiasco had actually been news, encouraging a sickly vine of emotions to fruit within her. Betrayal and guilt rivalled it, for having shunned a friend when she needed her most. 

"Does Knuckles know about this?" Her ears suddenly perked up in the assumption that, although having broken up, those two knew each other for a solid 8 years—better than anyone else in the friend group—for their affections to end sourly.

"No..." Blazed linked arms as they lined up. "He doesn't—no, he won't. His new girlfriend has doubts of his faithfulness, the ugly bitch." Upon hearing the menacing words from behind and feeling like they were especially directed at him, Tails stumbled on thin air, mentally checking an invisible box that read: pursuing Miss Rabbit will no easy (or safe) endeavour.

"I'm fine," he assured them both when they spared worried glances, resuming his pretense of appearing disinterested in their conversation.

"As I was saying, we don't want to give her any credibility. Mostly for Knuckle's sake, we best find Rouge ourselves." 

"I don't like her. Knuckles could do better."

"Well, that's not for either of us to choose, is it?" Reaching the front door, they individually present their IDs, inquiring about Rouge's whereabouts from a burly bouncer before submerging into a mesh of bodies, rhythms, bass, drinks, scents, and lights. "She's been here, so ask around."

"I'll take the bars," Cream bellowed her acknowledgment. "I'm assuming you know her features also, Mr. Fox."

But there came no response. 

"Mr. Fox?" She turned, staring at a lanky squirrel in place of Tails, where she'd assumed he would appropriately be. 

"Where'd that easily flustered fox go, now?" Blaze began to bellow, irked even further. "WE DON"T NEED ONE MORE MISSING PERSON, MR. FOX! COME OUT NOW, OR ELSE!"