The Difficult Task of Raising a Weapon

Mixed: Captured

Baker's POV:

I yawn, tugging the trash bag up out of its bin. My tired eyes lay half-lidded and give me blurry vision, but I don't mind; they'll wake up eventually. Having extracted the bag of garbage, I unlock the alley doorway and step out onto the concrete.

Whew. Cities don't smell good after rains like lawns do, not at all. I open the dumpster bin and toss in the refuse from this morning's baking. Something catches my eye on the ground, and I flick my gaze towards it.

What on Earth...? I think, seeing what I now realize is the tip of a shoe on the other side of the bin. Curious, I walk over, expecting to see yet another homeless person sleeping away in the alley. Instead, I see a small, petite, black and red pelt, and it takes me a few seconds to register that it's attached to the body of what appears to be a Mobian. I peer closer, interested--I've never seen a Mobian in person before--and nearly choke on my own gasp as I realize I'm staring at the very same creature that was on the news yesterday morning.

"Bloody hell," I whisper, backpedaling wildly. I sprint back to the door as silently as possible, closing it as if I were a thief in someone else's home. I run for the phone, and call the emergency hotline as fast as I can, somehow remembering the phone number in my panic.

"State your emergency," says a voice on the phone, and I whisper into the receiver as if I was still standing in the alley.

"Eggman's weapon, that thing that was on the news yesterday, i-it's right outside my shop!" I say frantically, and the woman responds immediately.

"Are you sure it is the weapon?"

"Yes, positive; I saw it myself."

"Can you describe it?"

"Uh... Yes! Black and red, quite small, with strange shoes and...um..." I try to remember more details, but my panic-stricken brain is offering no help.

"Remain calm, sir. Can you confirm your address?"

"Yes, um, 578 Worchester street on 8th Avenue."

"We'll send a response team immediately. Stay inside and keep everyone you can from heading outside." The woman hangs up, and I stand holding the phone, heart pounding in my chest, for several seconds until I get ahold of myself. Walking quickly to my kitchen, I see my wife kneading dough, oblivious to the danger.

"Karen, whatever you do, don't go outside," I say, trying to stop myself from shaking.

"What? Why? What's out there? Are you okay?" She asks, coming to my side in a heartbeat. I nod to show her I'm okay, and then swallow and say:

"There's a superweapon in the alley."

Policeman's POV:

"Unit 38, come in, Unit 38, come in, over," the radio crackles, making me and my partner look down in reflex.

"Unit 38 here, over," I say, holding my thumb against the transmitter button.

"There's a report of Robotnik's weapon on 578 Worchester street, 8th Avenue, and we want you to check it out before we send in G.U.N., over."

"Roger, on our way now, over," I respond, and my partner pulls a quick u-turn in the middle of the road.

"Do you think it's too dangerous to put on our sirens?" He asks, and I look over at him, confused. "I mean, it might escape if it hears us coming, you know?"

"Yeah, I'd leave 'em off," I nod slowly, thinking. "Lights too; we should keep this low-key until we confirm it's actually the weapon. No need to wake up the whole neighborhood unless the thing's actually there."