By C.M. Rich (Magnetman)
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 17th, 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 20th, 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 22nd, 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.