Chapter Text
Big Fox was coming along quite nicely; so much so that Tails was confident that he could call this iteration Version 1. The hydraulics had been replaced and reinforced, the joints had been reseated and augmented, and the sensory suite had been upgraded and supported by multiple redundancies. As the diagnostics ran, he munched on his breakfast sandwich and wondered what auxiliary systems he should install after the field tests were done. Probably anti-grav suspension and thrusters at the very least. And weapons, of course; it was all but guaranteed that Eggman would take Big Fox's existence as a challenge. Perhaps he should ask Omega's opinion.
A hearty "G'mornin', Misser Prower!" interrupted Tails' considerations, and he turned to see Bruno approaching with… someone. A very fancy someone with a pronounced hunch, wearing an elaborate derby hat and a thick fur cloak with gold clasps. "Got someone here that wants t' talk with yeh a bit."
"Sure! And good morning to both of you!" Tails put his sandwich on the worktable and held out a hand in greeting. "I'm Tails, nice to meet you!"
"Ennh," the visitor muttered as she ambled closer, shooing away his outstretched hand with her own - which Tails noticed was utterly loaded with rings and gemstones. "I don't do handshakes, boy. I am Miss Averly Mulley, and I want to know about this robot of yours." Her voice was like a prolonged groan, and when he got a look at her face under the wide brim of her hat, it became apparent that she was positively ancient.
Tails pulled his hand back, a little off-guard. "Um, sure! Well, it's not a robot, really - it's a mech, and it's called Big Fox. It's a custom build, using a blend of mostly G.U.N. parts."
Miss Mulley had finally finished shuffling over to it and began tapping the foot with her cane. "What's it for?"
"Ah, um. Well, right now I'm using it to help out with rebuilding Emerald Town."
"I see. Can it fight?"
"Well… kind of. It's strong and tough, but I haven't installed any weapon systems yet."
"Ennh. I want one."
"Uh?" Tails directed a confused glance at Bruno, who was too busy screwing around on a tablet and stifling laughter to be of any use. "I'm… not… um, can I ask why?"
"I want to fight Eggman."
Tails blinked. "Excuse me?"
"I want to punch him right in his stupid face." She pulled out a handkerchief and made a horrific retching sound into it. "Like you hero types do."
Tails was well and truly flabbergasted. Never before had his gasts been flabbered on such a scale. This woman - ninety years old at minimum - wanted to battle Eggman face-to-face in a mech. "I, ah. I don't think that would be a good idea."
She looked at him over her shoulder. "Not even if I said 'please'?" Rouge asked.
WAIT. WHAT? "ROUGE?!"
"Gotcha!" she snickered while Bruno guffawed in the background. "Had you going, huh?"
"You- but- I- WHAT?"
It was unnerving to watch what appeared to be an extremely elderly, extremely crooked woman suddenly stand straight and fluidly spread her arms in a theatrical pose. "Wanted to see if I could pull off tricking you before I had to head out. Guess my outfit passes the test."
"Uh, YEAH? Gosh, I had no idea!"
"Them folks won' know what hit 'em!" Bruno declared, voice full of pride.
Rouge chuckled. "I appreciate the vote of confidence, hon. Can you go get the transport ready?"
"Aye, mem - onnit now." Bruno tapped a few more times on his tablet and began walking towards Maintenance's rear.
Tails watched him go. "Using the service elevator?"
"Yeah, the front door is too public. Last thing I need is getting spotted as we leave. Anyway, I wanted to talk to you about my assignment."
It was very creepy how mismatched her graceful motions were compared to the decrepit appearance she was hiding behind, and Tails suppressed the urge to run when she walked over to him. "What's up?"
"I don't know how long I'm going to be gone - it should only be a day or two, but it might be a while longer. Either way, Bruno will let you know if something happens."
"Alright. But, um- be careful?" He hesitated, unsure, then added: "Please?"
Her smile was a grisly sight due to her disguise, but Tails appreciated it all the same. "I will, sweetheart. Now, I gotta get going - the sooner I can get out of this get-up, the better."
"Okay. Good luck!"
She settled back into her elderly mannerisms and treated him to an "ennh" with a wink. When he scrunched up his face and "ennh"ed right back, she countered with a ferocious "ENNNH" of her own, causing him to giggle uncontrollably. She shook her head with a grin and walked off towards where Bruno had gone.
As soon as she was out of sight, Tails grabbed the Miles Electric and dialed Amy.
The limousine Rouge was riding in was nice, but it was difficult to enjoy since she had to maintain her hunch for the entire ride in case someone got clever with a scanner and saw through the blacked out windows. The costume's brace framework made it slightly more comfortable than it would have been to maintain the pose unsupported, but she was surely going to need a spa day after this.
(Comms check,) her handler muttered in her earpiece.
"Ennh," she said with a roll of her eyes. "The comms are just as fine as they were when you asked ten minutes ago, Pen."
(You do know that you don't have to be in character yet, right?)
"Don't speak on matters you don't understand, fool. Asking me to drop the mask makes it more likely to slip later, and I'm not juggling personas just to make you more comfortable."
(And I'm certain that the verbal abuse is just SO vital to the charade.)
"Of course it is, idiot. Mulley is a miserable old hag. The nastier I am, the more believable the performance."
(Whatever. Your vehicle is coming up on the mansion now. Last chance to review the mission parameters.)
"I win the auction, you falsify the transfer, I take the package home. Not hard to remember."
(Recall Ring?)
Rouge glanced at the ring on her left middle finger, noting its glowing gemstone. "Primed."
(Transfer Ring?)
Right middle finger. "Also primed."
(And?)
"What do you mean, 'and'? That's all there is to it, you buffoon."
(And what if something goes wrong?)
"Then we shift to contingencies. They're in the notes." Then, something occurred to her. "Did you not read the notes?" she hissed furiously.
(Of course I did, I'm not stupid.)
"Could have fooled me. Now shut up unless it's important, I can't risk responding to you."
(Certainly, madam.)
Oh, he was pissed. Excellent. Rouge thanked her past self for the brilliant idea to play a mean old woman. As the limo rolled to a stop, she rummaged through her purse for one last check of her gear. With everything in order, she took a deep breath.
"We have arrived, Miss Mulley," the driver declared from a hidden speaker. The door swung open, and she made her performatively unsteady emergence into the night.
The mansion was an enormous beast of a structure, three stories tall and clad in white marble. Hidden lights illuminated narrow strips of the facade, giving the appearance of shining gold trim that glowed in the evening light. Despite its elegance, Rouge had no doubt that it was a stronghold - it sat at the heart of a heavily fortified compound deep in the mountains, and camouflaged defenses were everywhere.
And of course, who could forget the guests? Wealthy beyond imagination, decked out in priceless fashions and accessories to flaunt their power and influence. Most weren't even here to bid, they just wanted to mingle with others accustomed to a life of luxury and excess; their empty lives finding the briefest flash of fulfillment by competing amongst each other to see who was the most extravagant, the most decadent, the most useless.
Rouge smiled internally at what she was about to do to them.
"Oh, Averly!" a massive red-furred lion clad in a tuxedo called, making a brisk approach across the courtyard while flanked by a group of similarly red-furred lionesses in black dresses. "My dear lady, why didn't you call ahead? We've been trying to reach you all evening!"
"Ennh. Did you lose my number or something, Samson?"
"Not at all, ma'am. We've been unable to contact your estate." He bowed deeply, and his entourage followed suit. "We were worried we wouldn't be graced by your presence this evening."
"No chance. I heard what you're selling, I'm not missing that."
Samson tutted. "You promised that you wouldn't peek anymore, Averly. It's unfair."
"Wasn't me this time. The rebel group you pissed off told me about it."
He sighed, shaking his head. "Ah, yes. The Forest Defense Initiative. A misguided group unable to let go of the past. I'm surprised that they reached out to you, though - they seem the type to consider you an enemy."
"They do. The morons were trying to trade telling me what it was for giving it to them after I bought it." Rouge dug out a handkerchief and made a spectacle of coughing into it.
"Goodness. Are you alright?"
"Miserable. I'm on my last cycle." Rouge desperately hoped he would take the bait.
Samson frowned slightly. "Pardon?"
"It's my Second Spring." Oh, please. Just a little further, you jackass.
(Agent, what are you doing?) Pen sounded genuinely worried.
One among his entourage recognized the euphemism, and tried to subtly get his attention in a panic. She was not successful. "I'm afraid I still don't follow."
"I AM EXPERIENCING MENOPAUSE, YOU IDIOT," Rouge bellowed with as much indignation and rage as she could muster. "WITH ALL THE WOMEN YOU SURROUND YOURSELF WITH, HOW COULD YOU NOT KNOW WHAT MENOPAUSE IS?"
(I cannot fucking believe you.)
The effect of her outburst was perfect and immediate: conversation among the courtyard ceased as all eyes were suddenly on them. Samson's entourage was utterly mortified, and Samson himself looked like he was about to die from embarrassment. "I see!" he said brightly. "I had thought that you already-" he was cut off by a swift elbow to the back by one of his lionesses.
Rouge, not one to pass up a perfectly good opportunity, gave him a hateful glare. "Already… what?" she asked in a dangerously low voice.
"I, ah, erm-" the lion laughed nervously, grabbing the arm of one of his ladies and practically shoving her at Rouge. "Never mind that, how's about we get you inside, yes? This one will attend to your every need. Ta-ta, still need to greet the other guests!" With that, Samson made a hasty exit, entourage in tow.
The lioness he had volunteered straightened herself, smoothing her dress. "I'm so sorry about that, ma'am. Master Samson is not always the best with delicate matters."
"Ennh. He's always been a meathead. I'm used to it."
She visibly suppressed a flash of anger. "Yes, well. I am Sheena, and I will be your escort for the evening."
Rouge regarded her suspiciously. "Does everyone get a babysitter, or am I special?"
Sheena gestured to the others among the courtyard. "As you can see, all guests are being escorted by one of the Pride." Sure enough, every group had at least one of the red lionesses lurking nearby with varying levels of interaction.
"Ennh." Rouge began hobbling towards the mansion. "Where is the auction being held?"
"In the rear garden."
"Then that's where I'm headed. I want to get a good seat so I can get what I'm here for and go."
"Yes ma'am, of course," Sheena spat, walking beside her.
Rouge could tell that she was doing an excellent job of getting under her minder's skin. What was a little more? "How is it that Samson doesn't even call you by name and he still has your respect?"
Sheena huffed angrily. "I wouldn't expect you to understand, not being a member of a Pride. Master Samson has much to keep track of, and he recognizes my worth even if he doesn't recall my name."
Of course, the actual answer was that the Pride was a cult where Samson wielded absolute power over a legion of highly trained warrior-wives and servant-daughters. Unfortunately, access to gene therapy and other biological enhancements had extended his rule far longer than that of his predecessors', allowing him to style himself as something of a mythic figure that wasn't subject to the usual cycle of ritual replacement for when the patriarch's virility failed. As a result, he had been able to build a huge power base of fanatically loyal zealots that worshipped the ground that he walked on. However, Rouge knew - regardless of the borrowed status her disguise provided - saying any of that would probably get her killed, so instead she muttered "Whatever you say, 'this one'."
(PLEASE stop antagonizing the killer cultist.)
Sheena barely suppressed a snarl as she opened the front door. "This way, madam."
Rouge hobbled into the foyer, and her grip on her cane tightened. As far as the eye could see were all manner of heavy hitters, career criminals and supervillains alike, casually chatting over beverages and hors d'oeuvres. She swallowed hard, resolving to make a beeline towards the back garden. Unfortunately, her plan was interrupted by what appeared to be a towering shadow stepping in her path.
"Averly Mulley," he hissed, the silver of his featureless mask providing the only spot of color among his black robes.
"Ennh. Grant."
"Undertaker," he corrected furiously. His escort placed a hand on his shoulder, and he turned to her in a fury - however, the stern look in her eyes sent a clear message, and his tone was back in order when he turned back to continue. "Here to buy out the auction again?"
"Nobody likes a poor loser."
"Tch. Yes, but I'm not the only one who would like to have access to Samson's wonders."
"Maybe one day you will, if you ever bother to build your funds instead of blowing them on stupid shit."
A flash of green fire illuminated the eyes of his mask. "My work is not-"
Sheena cut in. "I think that's enough of that. Undertaker, please find someone else to talk to, Lady Mulley must be getting to the auction floor."
The masked shadow made an unpleasant noise, leaving through the front door with his escort following closely.
"Ennh. Pussy."
Sheena glared at her. "The Undertaker is a valued ally of the Pride."
Rouge glared right back. "And I am a valued patron of the Pride. Or have you forgotten that a full fifty percent of your wealth comes from me?"
Sheena looked away, furious. "Right this way," she said through gritted teeth.
They navigated the crowd and emerged in the rear garden, finding it populated by hundreds of seats arranged before a podium and a shrouded pedestal. Rouge shook her head - the most rich and powerful people in the world, and they still used folding chairs. She made her way to the front row, picking up an auction paddle and seating herself as close to the podium as possible. Sheena sat next to her, seemingly doing everything she could to ignore the world around her. The rest of the audience filled in shortly thereafter, and soon Samson himself took his place at the stand.
"Friends and honored guests," Samson began, "this evening we have something truly special to offer. We've all heard of the relics of mystical power: the Chaos Emeralds, the Phantom Ruby, the Warp Topaz, and even the Rings of Order. But these are naturally formed phenomena; objects that could never be produced or replicated by us." He paused dramatically. "That is - until now."
A lioness pulled away the shroud, revealing a cloudy sphere full of rainbow refractions hovering within a clear box upon the pedestal. Murmurs erupted throughout the audience, and Rouge's fingers started twitching.
"Recovered from the ruins of the Mystical Forest Zone, the Force Opalite is the first of its kind: a manufactured gem capable of producing and containing massive amounts of energy - on par with a Super Emerald! And, not only is it a force to be reckoned with on its own, but the Force Opal's research and production data were recovered alongside it - allowing the winning bidder to create as many more as they please."
The audience was buzzing now, and Rouge's grip on her auction paddle tightened. This thing was seriously bad news. She took a deep breath, steadying her nerves - there was no way for her to lose the auction, and the Pride wouldn't tolerate infighting or theft. Still, the tension in the crowd was getting to her.
Suddenly, the mansion's back doors slammed open, and all attention turned towards the racket. There stood Miss Averly Mulley, howling "WHO THE FUCK IS THAT?"