The Fugitive

**Turbo** Sun Aug 07, 2011 11:49 pm

[19:48 hours] Sector 06213A: A squad of three bots accompanied the Zone Cop to inspect the rift. It was unusually small-sized, but questioning of the witnesses revealed a character with a history of small-level teleportation, and a general penchant for trouble.

[21:55 hours] Sector 13640L: Questioning the rather confused time-lord of the region proved an interesting task, both in trying to keep him to the subject matter, and query where the escapee had fled to. The time-lord was altogether helpful with his information, having been accosted, but was taken into custody temporarily for certain... other subjects that came up during the course of the discussion.

[03:12 hours] Sector 13640L: The time-lord came out of further questioning and the oranges he was perhaps unnecessarily shoved into. Several men were accosted, in the process, however so he would probably be serving time under that technicality, but it didn't seem as if any length of time held any meaning for him.

[11:30 hours] Sector 13669J: The Zone Cop, sans the distrupted bots, successfully had tracked the fleeing teleporter into this widely variant zone, but was unable to make his business without attracting the attention of the locals, who appeared to be engaged in clandestine and likely illegal business of their own.

[11:48 hours] Sector 13669J: The Zone Cop failed to check in for his report. No further reports were filed from his cuff.

(Characters: Singe, Zonic the Zone Cop)

**Singe** Mon Aug 08, 2011 8:20 pm

It wasn’t long after Singe had appeared out of what seemed to be thin air that he was greeted by a most unpleasant smell. In fact, it was as soon as he set foot against the gravely surface of the unkept road, if not even sooner. He never questioned how he got here or why he was even here in the first place. The four-quilled hedgehog tilted his now scrunched-up nose up towards the sky, which was a mess of black smoke and chemicals, and squinted his eyes in what would be a very un-Singely manner at the scenery.
Tall menacing buildings met his gaze. They were made of metal, and each and every one of them, in their difference, ranged in various shapes and sizes. But they all had just one similarity... a large, red symbol of a very familiar mustached face, though unfamiliar to the hedgehog, was painted on the buildings. Every. Single. One.
It was then he knew just where the odor was coming from: Everywhere. The never-ending stench was putrid. It filled his nose even when he wasn't taking a sniff, and the hedgehog had to mentally keep himself from gagging as he watched the foul-smelling smog pour out of the pipes and sewer vents. They were even leaking from the cracks along the street and walls. The amount of oil and polluted chemicals in the air were sickening, almost barf-worthy. It was as if someone had taken every car and truck in the multi-verse and brought them all together in one big heap and left them running. Even the foulest streets of Turnopolis weren’t this putrid! This huge metropolis was so nauseating, so disgusting, and so repulsive that it forced Singe to describe his true feelings of this horrendous place out loud in one simple syllable that he found to be only appropriate: “Ugh,”

The Fugitive

The Fugitive

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