Watchers in the Jungle

Dr. Zachary had been hiding on the Floating Island ever since he had escaped from the horrible imprisonment inflicted by a vengeful Knuckles. Since he had hijacked the security terminals and the Guardian droids, Knuckles had no way of knowing where exactly he was located. The most likely region for his hideout was the Mushroom Hill Zone, since its unusual... forestation allowed it to evade satellite. Additionally, since less than 10% of the island was hooked up to security feed, if by some grace of a divine power Knuckles managed to get it all hooked back up again, he wouldn't be likely to catch him on film.

The only way to find him, assuming he was still on the island, was on foot. This is how Knuckles found himself looking for the elusive echidna in the sweltering jungles. Only the albino had the knowledge that he needed.

(Players: Knuckles, Dr. Zachary)

A mittened hand passed across a furrowed brow, and Knuckles trudged his way through the jungle. He wasn't being too quiet about it, though he had tried to be, at the start. Now, tired and pissed off, he just wanted to find the albino as quickly as possible so he could give 'm a piece of his mind!!! A- And a knuckle sandwich too!!!

He glowered. Mushroom Hill Zone was a no-go. Zachary had definitely passed that way, shown by the blood on the ground and the not-so-sneaky shoe treads... oh, and all those damaged mushrooms. The trail led into the jungle though, and that was where the trouble was. The dense jungle foliage obscured a lot of the light, so it was difficult to see, and the thick vines were a major obstacle to seriously makin' tracks. Not to mention the... uh... water hazards...

Knuckles narrowly avoided what appeared to be some sort of feral leopard a few hours back, and while he knew most of the island, and all its traps (placed by him, of course), he was startin' to get concerned for his own safety. The guy, after all, seemed to know the island better than he did, like when he unleashed the Guardian robots... This was impossible though, since Knuckles was, for the longest time, the only resident on the island. The, uh, other guys kind of... died off a little. Not that he remembered, but his gaping hole of a past was not something that needed much discussion when he should be looking for the mook...

White flesh shouldn't be that difficult to spot, and as far as he knew, Zachary was still wounded, with a further disability in that Knuckles took out his robotic arm. Climbing things was out of Zacky's options at the moment. Knuckles couldn't figure out how it was that the doctor went from non-sneaky to completely disappeared as soon as the last direct light went away.

Chaos, he hoped he'd find him soon...

(OOC: Juuuuuuus' waitin' for a jump attack, my whitey~)

He crouched in his little hole and shivered, hoping, praying that Knuckles wouldn't find him. The stress was too much for him, hiding in this jungle. He was a scientist, a genius, not a commando. He was scratched and bloody and hurt, and his arm was gone - his good one too, not that useless little natural one that couldn't shoot chaos energy from it - and here he was, curled up in this miserable little hole that he had dug so that he wouldn't be caught -

Rustle. Something just rustled up there I know I heard it. Ohgawd they're up there ghosts are up there they're going to eat me they're stalking me why why I can't deal with this ohgawd they're coming for me the ghosts are coming for me-

Wait. Ghosts don't rustle. It was probably just an animal, like the crocodiles in the water, or the giant snakes that always pretend to be vines and then eat you. Calm down. Be smart. Besides. Vichama would protect him, of course. He was faithful to his god. Vichama would protect the faithful -

Ohgawd I haven't given sacrifice in three days because of Knuckles. Ohgawd ohgawd I'm going to die I just know it Vichama sent ghosts he's displeased he's going to kill me why Vichama why do you hate me I love you I worship you ohgawd the ghosts are coming I hear them they're going to find me and eat me they smell me they're going to eat me and all that'll be left is my little robotic bits for the snakes to eat and hork up again ohgawd ohgawd I don't want to die noooooooooooooooo

He shivered. The thick foliage was making it so dark outside. He curled up tighter, waiting for day to pass and the trail to grow cold, praying now that the ghosts and vampire bats wouldn't get him before Knuckles did. It was going to be a long night.

(OOC: Don't mind me or the bad grammar in the italics. I'm just having a nervous breakdown in my hole here~)

It was possible that Zachary had done the sensible thing and jungle-camoflaged himself to blend in. White fur just as easily meant a blank slate, easy to dirty up with soil and plant sap. He had to take that into consideration, though, y'know, thinking wasn't exactly the most pressing of matters to him. More of exactly what he would do when he found that lousy whitey. And that meant pummelling and pounding away until he finally felt cleaaaan.

This guy was responsible for tricking him, after all. Worming his way into the Emerald Chamber and his trust. Lying about so many things, posing a direct threat to his island and everything on it, keeping so many secrets away from him....

Way he saw it, if Tikal was around, and Zachary was around, there was a good chance that there were other echidnas around. This Zachary popped out of nowhere. That didn't just happen. And for some sort of freakish discolor like him, there had to be a significant population around to support it and pop it out. Nothing colored like that just survived about the jungle so easily.

That was what was stumping him so much about Zachary's location. If he was from the jungle, then he was some sort of mega-miracle, who was still impossibly inept and old to have survived. If he was not, then how was he hiding so thoroughly. He was left with only questions. Should Zachary move, he'd find him...

(OOC: Stop quaking and do somethin'!)

He shuddered. He couldn't take it anymore. The paranoia was killing him, slowly, in this little hole in the ground. It was more likely that he'd be found eventually, in this hidey-hole, than getting caught trying to make a break for it. He knew Knuckles wouldn't give up that easily. There was always a slim chance that he could get away, get off the island and back to the city, before Knuckles caught him. So that's what he'd do. He'd run for it.

He poked his head out of the hole, glanced around, and dropped back in the hole. He didn't see anything, thank Vic- well, thank anyone, really. He poked his head out again, dropped back. Still nothing. After a few seconds, he bolted out of the hole, clambering with his tiny useless arm to pull himself out. He rolled over the edge, breathing heavily. He was in no shape to be gallivanting around the jungle. But now was not the time to pause.

No, now was the time to continue running. If he stayed here, who knows what horrible beasties could - and would - catch him? Knuckles, for one, and the vampire bats, and he heard there was some sort of monster on the island... some sort of leopard-y creature. Best not to find out if the rumors were true. He got up, looked around, and started jogging in a direction which he knew would eventually lead him to the city. That is - if he didn't get eaten first...

(OOC: Still quaking, just moving now... After all, angry red guardian with spikes on fists is coming after me...)

He crashed and stumbled through the thick forest, cursing whatever god's stupid idea it was to create vines and roots and the like. He panted as he ran, looking over his shoulder, hoping, praying that he wouldn't suddenly catch a glimpse of a red shape chasing after him.

He heard a crash as a spray of leaves fell straight in front of him, and something landed gracefully on the dirty, leafy ground. He skidded to a halt, stared at the thing in front of him. It had the markings of a leopard, with mottled browns and tans and black spots and white fur... and - were those wings on its back? The creature bared its incredibly sharp fangs and glared at him with steady, piercing red eyes, emanating an aura of power and strength.

So this must be the infamous leopard creature on the island. Deadly, he knew, and fast, and strong. His breathing, his pulse slowed, the throbbing in his head died down. He was wounded, practically defenceless, Knuckles was behind him, and before him was this deadly creature. But even wounded and chased, he could still outsmart a beast.

Slowly, very slowly, he reached over and pulled off his cannon, never taking his eyes off the beast, making no sudden moves that would make it feel threatened. He had examined it earlier, when he had had a few seconds cowering in his hole - the barrel was crunched, the wires sparked, but it was still usable, in a sense. It wouldn't release a burst like he wanted, but...

He pressed a button on it, then softly rolled it toward the beast. 3... 2... 1... Boom.

The cannon exploded in a burst of heat and light. As soon as it went off, he started running, feeling the intense heat of the blast on his back. The beast by now was probably stunned, or, if it was resourceful - which he knew it probably was - had somehow survived the blast and was gaining bearings, looking for a creature to hunt. Knuckles would be drawn to the explosion, what with the light, noise, and black smoke curling into the sky. The spreading fire now would destroy the trail - heck, it would destroy the island - and maybe give him enough time to either reach the city or set another trap.

As he felt the incredible pain in his arm and head return, he smirked. The fear of Knuckles, an immortal being with power above others of his race, and the paranoia of the hunt had deadened him to all other senses, even the immense pain he endured which did the same thing. But as he felt that return, so also came a sense of control. Maybe the tables had turned. True, he was still afraid of his fate, should he be caught, but not to excessive levels.

Pieces of shrapnel flew around him. He paused and examined one that dropped in his path. It was about four inches long, hot and warped from the explosion and seemed to have enough of a point to cut - not lethally, but perhaps to cut thin vines or roots. He picked it up, uncaring as the blazing, twisted metal seared his skin at touch, and looked back at what he had made.

"Your move."

(It's a POST. Bam.)