Mobius Rising

[Red Thunder]

a 1x1 by
@Red Thunder & @tee-dot-jay-dot
​

The sky roiled, shades of gray streaked momentarily by angry brightness. It was perpetual, now, a constant reminder of the encroaching industry that threatened the land's inhabitants. Black haze covered everything, strangling light and sound equally.

The clink of iron shod boots was not so easily muffled. Where it had been a rhythmic beat not twenty minutes prior, now they paced about the small clearing, pushing aside roofs of twig and and bark, ripping aside doors in their search for new bodies.

None were spared. Old. Young. Weak. Strong. Male. Female. The citizens of Rowan Village were taken, captured by unyielding metals hands and thrown unceremoniously into unyielding metal cages. To a one, they knew where they were bound: Robotropolis. To the capital city's dreadful machines.

To be roboticized.

All save two. Warned of the encroaching army of robotic soldiers by adventurous spirits, two figures quailed in their respective hiding places, understanding if not fully accepting the implications of this day. As the carts creaked away down the forest path and out of sight, as the rhythmic clink of iron shod boots faded into the distance, as the ashen light dimmed all the more with the setting of the blood red sun, they knew hope had abandoned them.

But maybe they could find it again. Rumor was spreading, even as far as Roman Village, of the disposed Princess Sally and her Freedom Fighters. She held her own against the metal machines, people whispered, and her hideout was inaccessible to those she wanted to be kept out. Maybe, if she could be found, just maybe the Rowan Villagers could be saved.

But time was slipping away. They'd have to go fast.

 

[Red Thunder]

:MOBIUS CITIZENRY FILE:
*caution - subject unaccounted for*​

stock model image or description • [pic and/or description]
subject designation • [character name here]
subject model • [animal species]
subject years of operation • [age]
physical parameters • [height/weight]
subject specialties • [skills or abilities unique to them]
operation history • [limited biography]
operating parameters • [personality]

*if located, detain for interrogation*
*if subject resists, roboticize*​

 

[Red Thunder]

:MOBIUS CITIZENRY FILE:
•Kinetic Kangaroo•
*caution - subject unaccounted for*​

:stock model image or description • Subject tends toward tall compared to its peers and of a solid build. Tan fur covers its exterior. Subject wears no clothing apart from a black hoodie-style sweater. Notably, subject wears a pair of thick-rimmed glasses when it believes itself alone, apparently to compensate for genetic near-sightedness. Subject routinely wears a confident smile beneath its short snout, and its eyes are gray.
:subject designation • Shanks
:subject model • Kangaroo
:subject years of operation • 17
:physical parameters • 3'10" / 70 lbs
:subject specialties • Subject has demonstrated the ability to retain potential energy in the joints of its legs, particularly its knee joints, releasing it when desired. The retention limits of the subject's body have yet to be observed, and though the consequence of over exertion are calculated to be catastrophic, the application of the ability make subject highly desirable. Use caution.
:operation history • Subject was found to have wandered into area of residence at a young age, estimated 5 years. Though housed by other subjects initially, subject was routinely rejected, likely in part due to its noted destructive capabilities in its legs. This happened regularly until word spread, making subject something of a pariah and leaving it to look after itself. Subject did eventually build a home for itself in the village outskirts from which it will at times venture into the forest for unknown reasons.
:operating parameters • Subject seems to be at regular odds with those around it. Subject seeks conflict in competition, expressing desire for acceptance by being the best in a given skill. The result of this rarely yields positive result from its peers, and subject seems to live in isolation. Subject seems to disregard well-being in favor of being right or proving a point. It is calculated that such behavior might also generate if subject's peers were in danger. Said instances are thought to be rare or non-existent due to an otherwise prideful manner. Be advised: despite apparently societal rejection, subject has yet to leave area, likely due to some sense of loyalty or gratitude, which could be indications of rash actions in other subjects' protection.

*if located, detain for interrogation*
*if subject resists, roboticize*​

 

[tee-dot-jay-dot]

:MOBIUS CITIZENRY
FILE:
•Anti-Machine Marsupial•
*caution - subject unaccounted for*​

:stock model image or description • Subject is a compact marsupial of average Mobian size and build. The majority of it's fur is light gray, though it has a white head with a long muzzle that terminates in a pink nose. The outer extremities such as ears and limbs are black. Notable features include light blue eyes and a long, hairless, prehensile tail, which can be used to grab branches and carry small objects. Subject tends towards the Mobian custom of wearing little in the way of clothing, only donning a set of green hiking boots, brown gloves, and a distinctive orange scarf that it keeps draped around it's neck at all times. Subject is typically described as having a distant and thoughtful expression.
:subject designation • Dulcimer
:subject model • Opossum
:subject years of operation • 16
:physical parameters • 2'7"/44 lbs.
:subject specialties • Subject appears fairly unremarkable in most regards, possessing the strength and speed of an average Mobian with a moderate, healthy exercise regimen; however, caution is advised, as subject is a strong climber, customary for it's species, and therefore could prove difficult to apprehend with standard ground units. [Note: Potential ambush advisory.] Another feature at it's disposal is a remarkably strong sense of smell and a well developed set of ears. Subject appears to be quite adept at identifying and tracking a target based on scent alone. Unsubstantiated reports say subject can revive from death, this is likely highly exaggerated. As has been observed in other Mobian Opossums, it is far more likely subject has some ability to control it's heart rate and breathing to feign death. [Note: This could potentially complicate locating target through traditional biometric scanners.]
:operation history • Little concrete biographic data has been extracted from captured villagers regarding this odd marsupial. No familial relations have turned up amongst the detainees. By all accounts the subject spent the majority of it's time outside of Rowan Village, hiking and camping in the surrounding mountainous terrain. It has been confirmed that it was raised in the village to some extent prior to striking out on it's own. Subject was purported to have made frequent trips back into town, however, to resupply essentials and visit friends. This would suggest subject has some close ties to it's fellow villagers, as it always returns to Rowan.
:operating parameters • Subject appears strikingly independent and prone to wanderlust. Those that know it tend to describe the marsupial as soft spoken and prone to introspection. Crowds and metropolitan areas appear to agitate and instill paranoia in the subject. Though nearly all observed Mobians show a bizarre affection for inferior natural resources, this subject appears strikingly fond of the natural order of things to the point of sometimes putting the good of the environment before it's peers. [Note: Perhaps the subject suffers from an undiagnosed personality disorder?] Regardless, the marsupial is distinctly noncompetitive and shows a distaste for loud or rambunctious activities. It gravitates towards quiet contemplation and creative means of expression. Caution: Subject should not be considered a non-threat due to this docility. Accounts vary on the severity, but a distinct trend towards luddite philosophy has been consistently reported and has apparently grown more radicalized since Badnik encroachment.

*if located, detain for interrogation*

*if subject resists, roboticize* ​

 

[Red Thunder]

Unit 2883, sergeant designation, adjusted its ocular components. It had lingered behind as the metal company under its command marched down the road. The load carried securely in the wheeled crates would make good work for the roboticizer. SWATBOTS surrounded them, rifle arms raised in readiness against the rebel attack, and even a few buzzdroids circled above. Itself a SWATBOT, Unit 2338 processed a byte of satisfaction at the efficiency of its company; there hadn't been a single error in the execution of the mission, and no organics had been compromised. All were accounted for.

No, this was a falsity, and Unit 2338 initiated a debug program on its logic program in response. Two organics were unaccounted for. It was predictable, perhaps, that they were wanderers of sorts, and the sergeant added a data point to a list of debriefing topics in its memory core. Better tactics were needed. Better tactics would be implemented. This particular resource acquisition had been the most complete; a 4.47% oversight was at the end of the day an acceptable margin of error. But Unit 2338 was not programmed to accept insufficiencies. It would learn; it would improve.

It's auditory sensory detected a spike in the otherwise quiet ambience, and it whirled, seeking the offending party. The forest was an unyielding wall of green, and the organics' habitat was similarly still. Unit 2338 cycled through its different optical filters, checking through the visible and invisible spectrum for signs of movement. But there was nothing. Dissatisfied but nevertheless unable to find acceptable reason to remain on scene, it turned away and followed its company toward the city.

As the clink of the sergeant's boots against the packed earth of the path, two long pointed ears appeared from between the leaves of larger bush. They shifted minorly before lifting further, revealing a tan fur covered face. Wide eyes, nearly encompassing the whole of the creature's face, relaxed visibly with a drawn out sigh. A smile pulled at the cheeks, wide and confident.

"Yeah! Showed you guys! What's the matter: couldn't find me? Eh, you blockhead?"

The air rumbled minutely with a bass thud, and suddenly the Mobian leapt from the bush to land in the center of Rowan Village. Glancing around habitually, he grunted to himself, withdrawing a pair of thick rimmed glasses from the front pocket of his sweatshirt before sliding them over his nose and in front of his eyes. His surroundings, previously full of fuzzy lines and poorly defined shapes, cleared. He looked around, his previously exuberant expression falling to vague despair.

"Now what?" the kangaroo muttered, scratching at his chest absently. He took a few small hops to the town edge, peering down the path the Badniks had taken. "I don't want to be alone."

 

[tee-dot-jay-dot]

Rowan village was in ruins. The closest thing the opossum had to a home had been gutted, and all Dulcimer could do was hide in a tree as the SWATBOTS passed below him. The multitudinous sound of iron footfalls drowned out the weeping and cursing of their Mobian captives. These were his friends, what he might even call a family. He knew what was waiting for them.

This would be one of the most devastating moments of the young marsupial's life, but it was just another check on a computer screen somewhere in Robotropolis. A new tally mark in Robotnik's mad grab for absolute power. He ground his pointy teeth at the thought.

But… there was still time, right? Maybe he could do something. Maybe if he got the drop on them…

His body didn't move.

Soon the sound was far too distant for most, but Dulcimer's ears were keen. He heard them cry for miles. Quiet returned to the village before his legs began to obey him, if you could even call it a village anymore. What's a village with no one in it? A ghost town, occupied by memories.

He dropped down into the road, landing crouched. He barely made it to his full height before the gravity of the situation became all too literal and it brought him to his knees. Dulcimer dug his fingers into the dirt, tears pricking his eyes.

"Coward," he spat under his breath.

A rustle in the underbrush brought him back to Mobius. The opossum was about to bolt when he heard a somewhat familiar voice that gave him pause to reconsider. Whoever it was sounded pretty confident, considering the circumstances.

Wiping his eyes and dusting himself off, Dulcimer got back on his feet and headed into the remains of Rowan. Still cautious of a trap, the opossum slunk between broken walls and over thatch roofs until he could confirm for himself the source of the sound. It was that kangaroo he'd seen around the village. Shanks, was it?

So, he really wasn't the only one to escape.

Dulcimer overheard the kangaroo's mutterings, sheepishly looking away. A twinge of guilt snagged him, as he replayed the previous events in his mind from the recalled safety of his tree.

"You're not," Dulcimer finally answered, stepping out from behind the half-broken remains of a hut to make himself known.

 

[Red Thunder]

With the SWATbot Subjugation Unit gone, their quarry securely in tow within their cages with them, Rowan Village had become unnervingly quiet. The small bustle of chatting mothers, whittling grandfathers, and laughing children left an emptiness that almost gnawed at its surroundings. It was as if the heartless industry that crept outward from Robotropolis with tendrils of black decay had made a claim on the Mobians' small home, forcing it into its uncaring maw to begin the slow course of digestion. Even the unintelligent wildlife was nowhere to be found, having fled or hid from the robots' incursion, and they were clearly unready to reveal themselves again.

Shanks almost didn't care. Maybe he should follow after them, follow the SWATbots, and join in the villagers' fate. At least then, he wouldn't be alo-

He was ten feet high in an instant, the smothering silence cut as if with a knife by the sudden voice that answered his muttered wonderings. Surprise having given his legs power, but not balance; as he landed, Shanks toppled backwards, his feet at an odd enough angle as to send them shooting forward when they hit the ground.

"Gah!" Ego and backside bruised, the kangaroo scrambled to his feet as he faced Dulcimer with fists raised. "You- you get back, you Badnik! I'll tear ya limb from limb! I'll-"

He squinted. The shock of his fall and shaken his glasses askew on his nose, and the figure he saw was fuzzy and oddly doubled. But it was familiar. Cutting his threats short, Shanks reached up and adjusted his glasses.

"Hey! You're not a Badnik!"

 

[tee-dot-jay-dot]

"Uhm… No, no I'm not," Dulcimer returned awkwardly. He scratched the back of his furry grey head and averted his eyes to the ground. He wasn't very good with people, even under the best of circumstances. In a situation like this he'd rather curl up under a rock somewhere. Still, at least it wasn't one of Robotnik's despicable creations.

The opossum realized he'd been lost in his thoughts for too long. The air had become a little stale. His tail fiddled with a nearby branch as he raked his brain for something more to say, something that wouldn't be inappropriate.

"You're… Shanks, right? I'm Dulcimer; I spend most of my time off in the forest, so I'd understand if you don't recognize me."

Not that he was much better. A kangaroo is hard to miss; otherwise he likely wouldn't have remembered him at all. Looking back on it, why was he away so often…? Awkwardness? What, he didn't like crowds? He'd give anything for a crowd about now. What he wouldn't do to see the village packed to the gills like it used to be.

They couldn't avoid the topic long…

"Looks, um, looks like we're the only two that made it, huh?"

 

[Red Thunder]

"Pfft. Yeah! And those Badniks better be glad they didn't find us!" Shanks raised his voice a scosh, the rather obvious manner clearly more for Dulcimer's benefit than that of any potentionial enemy. "They'd have been no match! I'dah kick'em so hard, they'd have been back in Robotropolis before you could say 'Hedgehog'!"

He'd turned away from the opossum, facing the path out of Rowan Village, and thumbed his nose rather more aggressively than was necessarily at the presumed direction of the Badniks. The robot soldiers had long disappeared out of sight, their pace steady and hard; the only clue of their location was the grinding tread of iron boots against the stone path and the drone of buzz droid wings. Above the village, muffling briefly the SWATbot company, a deep peal of thunder rolled across the blanketed sky, adding a foreboding sense of finality to the whole thing.

Shanks reached up, clearing his cheeks of wetness with the back of his hand. Clearing a lump from his throat, he turned back.

"We gotta save'em, Dulci. We just gotta. They'll be roboticized otherwise."