Wanted

By C.M. Rich (Magnetman)

Episode 11 - Last Year

May 31st, 20XX, 1:13 PM , PST

Referencing his map, Snakeman had spent the last few hours slinking towards the middle of the battlefield he had called home for the past half a day already. In looking at the map, he already had some criticism lined up for Dr Light when he got back, but it sure as hell came in handy.

At long last, he was where he needed to be. Taking his rifle in hand, he aimed upwards and let off a round. In the dry wind, the shot was easily heard, and Snakeman kept in his hiding place, listening intently on the ensuing traffic to come.

Within a minute, the swift little orbs had descended upon the area like wasps to their queen. He had no doubt that the Judge was also watching this sudden activity, with keen interest, from wherever the hell he was lurking.

In fact, Snakeman wanted to make sure his nemesis was watching this.

“Your Honor…”, he said, gravelly-voiced, into his radio, “Has the Jury reached a verdict?”

It took a full minute before he received a response.

“…What are you up to, Snake?”, a hesitant voice asked in return.

“Has the Jury reached a verdict?”, Snakeman repeated.

“…Guilty!”

“Just checking…”, Snakeman sneered, his taunt evident through his voice, catching the Judge off guard on the other end of the line- this wasn’t the Snakeman he knew.

Suddenly, Snakeman emerged from his hole, in plain view of the Jury and the Judge. From his scope, the sweating serial killer could see the small smirk adorning Snakeman’s face as the Jury quickly descended upon him.

Unlike him, his Jury opened fire upon the snake-themed Robot Master with cruel efficiency, but catching nothing with their gunfire as a telltale teleportation beam snatched Snakeman away from impending death.

“H-How…?! The shield is still in place! It’s not…”

Something dawned upon the Judge in mid rant. That wasn’t like Snakeman. That wasn’t his style. He was anything but flashy, nothing but cold and calculating.

“…Oh…”, he realized.

A second later, he watched his Jury collapse, falling like dominoes as the invisible wall of interference swept the area, emanating from Snakeman’s last known position in the rubble. It was suddenly very clear to him now.

He set down his rifle for a second and rested his chin on his knee, admiring the depth of his adversary’s planning and cunning.

It’ll be even sweeter now when I kill him, the Judge reassured himself.

May 31st, 20XX, 1:19 PM , PST

Somewhere far away from The Judge and his group of now-useless Jurors, Snakeman lay unconscious, the victim of an EMP wave for the second time today. Within his resting spot in the dark basement where he had left Mambo- a black mamba-themed Search Snake with a localized teleport beacon- Snakeman’s body remained completely still, deprived of electricity needed to get his muscles moving.

But, while his systems worked on rerouting his power, his mind was still far from inactive. Robots can dream, as some may tell you, and Snakeman was no exception.

Within his mind, his dreams took him back to another time. A time when he and his current mortal enemy were actually on better terms. In his mind, Snakeman was back in November of last year…

November 17^th, 20XX

12:47 PM , Eastern Standard Time

Megapolis Police Department

“Ahh…Can’t believe this bullshit!”

“What now, Ritter?”, Detective Snow muttered as he shuffled through the seemingly endless amount of paperwork and files scattered about his desk as his co-worker, Jim Ritter, sat in a similar pile of paperwork with his hands cradling his head.

“Will you lookit how the media is treating the sniper case? It’s a joke!” he claimed as he scowled towards the small television adorning his desk in the busy ant-farm-like inner sanctum of the MPD Command Center .

On screen, a local personality prattled on about the sniper murders that have plagued the city for the past two weeks:

“…And my point is, what are the police doing to prevent this madman, or possibly madmen, from striking again? Anything? They won’t even give us any indication as to whether or not they have any suspects whatsoever…It’s irresponsible!

Who ever this sniper is, he’s created an atmosphere of complete fear and chaos after claiming seventeen lives in only thirteen days. Of these seventeen, all but one were acquitted of serious allegations, ranging from child molestation to mafia-related murders. Given his alleged choice of weapon, supposedly a Gavel Arms Limited G91 Sniper Rifle, the national media has taken to calling this coward “The Judge”.

I think that’s glorifying him or her a bit much, don’t you think? We’re almost giving carte blanche to do whatev-“

Det. Ritter shut off the TV and put his hands on his knees as he swiveled his chair towards the still-shuffling Snow with a disgusted look adorning his face.

“Can ya believe that?!”

“Mm hm.”, was all the mealy-mouthed Snow said in response.

“Ah, the hell with you!”, Ritter spat in frustration of his desk mate.

As the dejected detective turned back towards his own desk, he slowly realized that the usually loud-as-hell office setting was unusually quiet, despite it being around 1 PM . He even turned back towards the perpetually-collating Snow to ask him his thoughts on it, only to see that Snow himself had been peering up from his sheaves of paper towards the entranceway to the room. Ritter followed suit.

Standing at the helm of the office room was an obviously out of place, green plated man. Actually, the word “man” should be capitalized in his case, as in “Snakeman”.

Many of the detectives and desk cops all looked upon the reptilian-themed android with obvious hatred and malice; the end result of many failed attempts to capture the one-time outlaw, only for him to be granted amnesty, along with the other Mechanical Maniacs. Not only that, but they were given jobs, working for the newly-formed Robot Police Department of Megapolis.

Of all the insults…

“…Can we help you?”, one desk-dweller asked of the dry-expressed robot, who hadn’t moved a step since entering the office.

Snakeman coughed uncomfortably.

“I’ve been asked to assist in the sniper case.”, he bluntly stated.

“Asked?”, the detective asked, standing up slowly and placing his knuckles on his desk. “By who?”

“The mayor.”

The anonymous detective stood in place for a second before lowering his head and shaking it from side to side.

“Heh heh…Alright…Look…The fact is, we don’t want your help.”

Snakeman still hadn’t moved.

“Oh?”

“Yeah, so why don’t you move your mechanical ass on out of here and leave it to the pros, alright? We do this for a living.”, the detective snorted.

The black and forest green Robot Master took two decisive steps forwards.

“Pros?”, he repeated. “You ‘pros’ didn’t seem to have much luck catching me. Maybe that’s why I do this for a living now.”

This immediately raised the direct ire of the room before him, with half of the desk-jockeys standing straight up in a confrontational stance.

“Hey asshole, if you want to, we can-“

“What the hell is this?!”, the Chief screeched as he stood in front of Snakeman, facing the aggressive room. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say we had a fuckin’ serial killer to catch. I’d say we don’t have time to waste on kiddie shit like this! Now get back to work!”

“Thanks, but-“

“But what?...Huh?” the commander in charge of the human police forces within Megapolis interrupted Snakeman. “Don’t ever…EVER interrupt my men like that again. Got me?”

“…Yeah.”

“Now, what are you here for, son?”

“The mayor asked me to assist in apprehending the serial sniper.”

The Chief took a few seconds to examine Snakeman’s face, searching for signs of a smile. When he didn’t find any, he started laughing himself.

“Haw! The mayor, eh? Yeah…He means well…But he don’t work here, see?”, the grizzled veteran cackled from behind his mustache. He continued after reading the Robot Master’s expression further. “You wanna help though, right?”

“Yeah. I do.”

“Okay then. Good enough for me. See, I’ve had a hunch that we may get inta a shootout with this psycho when we eventually find him. That’s when I’ll need ya, son. Go and talk ta our sniper on the SWAT crew. See what you can learn about sniper behavior from him, alright?”

“Oh…Okay.”

Alright…Oh, and son…Be careful. Our guy…He’s a bit of a weirdo himself.”

Snakeman continued down the hallway after making his way through the harsh-eyed gauntlet of detectives, eventually finding his way into the SWAT team locker room and debriefing quarters. Upon entering the room, he was met with the same kind of reaction given to him by the detectives- an angry, almost jealous glare from some faces he remembered escaping from so many times just a few months ago.

“I’m looking for the SWAT sniper.”, he stated again, not wanted to get into a confrontation with these boys in their own home.

“What for?”, asked one of the casual-clothed infantrymen.

“I’ve been ordered to ask for his assistance in the sniper case.”

“By who?”

“The m-…The Chief.”

“Mm hm…The man you’re looking for…Is over there. In the break room. Name’s Munich .”

Snakeman began to walk towards the break room with a short, to-the-point nod towards the officer when his arm was suddenly grabbed as though he were a child wandering astray.

“Don’t waste our time. Say what you need to say and get the hell out of here.”, the SWAT member threatened under his breath.

Snakeman merely rotated his arm quickly enough to break it free from the man’s grasp. He wasn’t about to be threatened by a bunch of tired old men who were no match for him when they were on opposite sides of the police tape.

He briskly strolled into the break room, a dinky little space with a filthy vending machine and an ancient coffee pot and a corner-mounted TV from the 1980s, complete with broken push buttons. Situated almost beneath the old television was a man clothed in drab grey coveralls, with a no-frills name patch on his left chest.

“ Munich ?”, Snakeman asked, knowing it was a stupid question. Still…formality and all.

“Yeah.”, the man said, still reading the news paper laid before him on the plastic folding table.

Snakeman took a few more steps over towards him, leaned over the table, and offered his hand, which the man continued to ignore.

“I’m Snakeman.”

Nothing.

“Of the RPD. The Chief told me to ask you for your console.”

Munich looked up at the reptilian robot with his hand still jutted out before him. He was a rather thin man with a crew cut and sharp eyes drawn deep into his head.

Finally, just as Snake considered withdrawing his hand, Munich accepted it with a short handshake.

“What can I do for you?”, he asked, interlacing his hands in front of his chin.

“I’ve been asked to assist in the sniper case. The Chief told me to see what I could learn about the basics of a sniper so that I may help in his capture.”

“’His’…capture?”

Snakeman was taken aback slightly. “Well…Yeah.”

“And what makes you so certain we’re dealing with a ‘him’?”

“Aren’t most snipers men?”

“Many are…But there are a lot of female snipers out there, you know. Especially outside of the US .”

Snake was a bit intrigued now.

“In any case…Yeah. I’ll teach you what you want to know. Been pretty slow for the SWAT team any way, what with this maniac running around shooting people. We haven’t had many calls, oddly enough.”

“That is a bit strange. I thought it’d be standard protocol to call in the SWAT team for any heavy action.” Snakeman agreed.

“Its not, and I never understood why. That’s not how things worked in the Marines.” Munich lamented.

“You’re a Marine?”

“Honorably discharged. Wish I wasn’t. Maybe I’d still serve a bit of a purpose, unlike now. You tend to get mighty sick of this coffee after a few hours each day, just waiting.”

“I’d guess so…”

Munich threw away his empty paper cup after seeing the bottom and got down to business.

“So kid…What do you want to know?”

November 20^th, 20XX

8:37 AM , Eastern Standard Time

Shots ring out in the early dawn outside of the city limits, with bullets tearing through wooden targets, splintering them upon impact.

“No, hold on. You’re still not taking into account the Coriolis effect. You need to compensate.”

Snakeman steadied himself once again, cradling the police issue FN Special in his arms as he took another shot at the nearly-mangled target, finally planting a shot near enough to the bull’s eye for a “kill”.

“Not bad, kid. You learn quick.”

“I have a pretty advanced CPU to thank for that.”, Snakeman said, brushing off the compliment.

“You can’t teach computers everything. Sniping takes genuine talent.”

“I’m just a bit annoyed with this piston on this rifle. It really eats up a lot of time between shots.”

“Piston? You mean the bolt?”, Munich corrected. “There’s two types of sniper rifles traditionally; bolt action and semi-auto. Most police agencies and alot of military outfits use bolt action, since they’re cheaper and more accurate.”

Snakeman thought about that for a minute.

“The reports claim the serial sniper is using a G91, given the casings and fragments found around his crime scenes. Isn’t that an auto?”

“I think so. The G91 is the auto, and the G90 is a bolt-action, if I remember correctly. Fancy rifles, too. Used for marksmen and the richer police taskforces of the world.” Munich commented with.

“That says a lot about our sniper. He’s got some money.”

Snakeman let off a few more rounds into the target, decimating it.

“ Munich …What are your thoughts on the Judge’s actions?”

“…Judge…What a name…I just think he’s some rich amateur that’s either fed up or bored. Like most serial killers. He’s probably picking off Mafioso and predators as cover in case he’s caught. After all, who’s going to convict a guy who’s just doing what the public wanted done by our courts in the first place?”

Snake ejected the final round instead of firing it, handing both the bullet and rifle back to Munich .

“You think he’s an amateur? What makes you so sure of that?”

The 30-something ex-Marine gave Snake a wry smile. “He’s sloppier than the media would have you believe. He’s killed more than a dozen of his victims with headshots from as far back as 1,000 meters- the fringe of the G91’s effective range. That’s the mark of a showoff, not a pro.

Not to mention the fact he kills from high places- towers and parking structures. It’s a lot harder to judge distance from a high angle than at or near ground level…”

“Hmm…You are supposed to aim for center of mass at that kind of distance. That is pretty unusual for a pro. There’s a higher miss-probability when going for headshots at such an extreme distance and height, naturally.”

“Exactly. Like I said, we’re dealing with a lucky amateur. He’ll eventually be caught, and I doubt we’ll even be called to the scene.”

“Maybe you’re right…”

November 22^nd, 20XX

10:32 PM , Eastern Standard Time

“ Munich …”

“Don’t patronize me, Snake. Just do it.”

“No. I’m not like you. I’m not a killer. You’re going to serve time for this.”

From within the clock tower in the center of Megapolis University ’s campus, Snakeman’s Blood Python, Sara, held its grip on the maniac killer, whom was caught red-handed in the act of taking a look through his scope upon another would-be victim. His rifle on the floor, kicked aside by Snakeman immediately, “The Judge” was at least disarmed, and a threat to no one after taking twenty-three lives.

“ Munich …The courts and feds will ask you this for days upon days…But I want to hear it for myself. I want to know…”

“Why? You want to know why I was killing the scum that was paying off judges to let them off easy? I told you a few days ago, didn’t I?”, Munich muttered in defiance, his demeanor changed from the calm, teacher-like sniper to the humiliated, bitter loser of this battle of wits.

“You did this because you were bored? Is that it?”

“Wrong answer. I did this because I was fed up! I’m sick of seeing…shit like this! Look down there, Snake. Look! Do you see him?”

Snakeman peered down the wall of the clock tower onto the campus below, laying eyes upon a familiar face to the media.

“That’s Craig Wright. He was just acquitted of two counts of rape, and three counts of dealing GHB. It was all over the news…”

“And here he is. The same campus he was attending when he committed those crimes, flaunting the mistakes of the justice system.”

“And you saw fit to take the law into your own hands.” Snakeman rationalized. “That’s not your job.”

“I’m doing what should have been done in the first place! Think about it- the women he abused…They have to live with that for the rest of their lives after essentially being called liars by the courts that swore to protect them…Who’s corrupt here, Snakeman? Tell me! You know it’s not me…”

“…And Kisha Hamilton?”

The name stung Munich , causing him to visibly wince.

“…That…Was a mistake. She walked in front of my line of fire at the wrong moment…That’s all…”

“You made a mistake…Just like the courts did.”

“Goddamn it, Snake. Don’t turn this around on me! This is far, far different!”

Snakeman slumped against the wall. He wanted a few more minutes alone with the crazed Munich before he radioed in the others to take him away.

“You were so careful, Alan. You went out of your way to do things in an unprofessional way. You used a rich man’s toy, shot from all the wrong angles, aimed for the wrong body parts…You could have gotten away with it if you didn’t let me in on it. You gave me too many clues…”

“…I know what you’re getting at, Snake…The answer is ‘no’…I didn’t want to get caught.”

“I didn’t think so…But I need to know…something else…”

Snakeman scooted next to the bound up serial sniper.

“Who’s your accomplice?”

“…Why Snakeman, what ever do you mean?”, Munich sneered coyly.

“Stop with the act. I checked your punch schedule with the times of the murders…At least three of the killings were done while you were in Police HQ, surrounded by fellow officers. Munich …There’s someone else…”

“You know nothing…”

“Stop protecting them, Munich . You’ll only go down harder if you do.”

“No. I won’t. After all, who’ll correct the justice system’s mistakes with ‘The Judge’ locked up?”

Snakeman got up and finally clicked on his radio, mumbling a pick up order into his receiver before strolling over to the Judge’s rifle.

“I will.”

A puzzled look adorned Munich ’s face, almost that of elation.

“But not your way. Once the trial is over, I’ll use this gun to correct the mistakes of the criminal justice system…But I’ll do it legally. I’ll do it…Because that’s my job.”

By now, a helicopter had begun circling the clock tower as dozens of navy blue and grey-garbed men swarmed at its base like wasps near a hive.

“How naive…” Munich uttered, disgusted. “You’re no pro, kid…Just an amateur.”

Snakeman didn’t bother to respond as the SWAT team- Munich ’s own comrades- flooded the top level of the tower, and Snake made his exit.

“Snakeman! Do you hear me? You’re just an amateur…A kid!”

May 31st, 20XX, 1:44 PM , PST

“…Hey Snake…”

The message had been repeated almost endlessly for quite some time now. Snakeman wasn’t sure exactly how long, exactly, as the second he ended up back in the darkened basement the EMP wave greeted him once again.

This time, it took a while for his secondary battery to re-route power to his systems. The smell of smoke from an electrical fire and the taste of alkaline in his mouth told him his back up was officially toast.

“Snakeman!”

The weary Robot Master clicked on his radio to acknowledge the message, but didn’t say anything. He knew the Judge would know if he was listening or not.

“…Whoa haha…Thought I lost you for a while, Snake…That’d be a damn shame after that show you put on…”

Raijin simply sat there in the darkness, silent, but listening.

“…I’ve got to admit…I got sloppy leaving that thing back there. I deserved to lose my support like that…But things were getting boring anyway…What do you say we both come out of our little cubby holes and wrap this up?”

Snakeman smiled to himself. He had him.

“…No…Let’s not…”, Snakeman answered back. “I’m just starting to like this game.”

“…Suit yourself.”

Raijin could tell the Judge wasn’t very happy with that last response as the signal was cut abruptly. He knew the Judge would probably have taken him out as soon as he had emerged. Now, the upper hand was his once again, even without his Search Snakes.

Search Snakes…Oh yeah.

Snakeman felt around the ground at his side until his fingers once again found the tail of Mambo. This time, though, he knew Mambo’s battery was gone if even his own, larger unit was nearly gone, and his secondary battery was completely shot.

Silently thanking his partner, Snakeman folded him up and placed him back into his spot within his left shoulder blade. With any luck, the other Search Snakes would be better off, as their batteries were inactive at the time of the second EMP wave.

There was no time to track them all down now, though. He had a Judge to hang.