A dream... the place is dark, metal constructed, like an underground
military facility, but something's different, there is something amiss. I
don't know what, but there is a feeling of fear, paranoia fills us, even on
this mission to take out the diabolical Dr. Robotnik's, or Eggman, as we
call him, device. We are still in communication, keeping track of our
movements, everything goes smoothly, but someone then claims they hear a
voice, a deep mocking voice, and a choir, high tone voices singing in a
sound so exotic, so innocent, but it seems like a trap.
I suggest cutting communications, in order to seal off the sound, but Sally disapproves. I disobey and do so at my own will, knowing if there is a danger, it must be avoided. Doing so, the horror begins, my team starts turning on one another, panting, screaming in pain.
"What are they doing, physically that is?" The Dr. asked, jotting down the information like a stenographer in the courtroom, recording every word that is heard from each of the speakers.
"Eyes closed, they kneel to the ground. Holding their heads, they stand, screaming 'get out of my head' before they each open their eyes, bloodshot eyes... They cringe, and glance at one another, and in an instant, they begin to shoot one another. I back away in horror, as each one of them kills... I hear the voice and pushing each of the buttons, trying to tune it out... an overlander, a female with blond hair, sea blue eyes, and a pure as silk white nightgown floats in midair before me, her face in the age of a young adult girl, beckoning me to come forth. I randomly in spit of fear pound a sequence of keys, I can't remember them well, but I know I somehow am able to tune her out." He said hoarsely, taking numerous amounts of deep breaths.
"The female, was she skinny, plump-"
"A goddess, glowing with heavens light, she was perhaps a dream girl any human would fall for, giving in to her every command, bowing before her. She is though a deceiver, her beauty only a cloak to shade the foulness that shows her true motive, of death, of torment, of chaos... " Tails continued, trying to remain calm, but his paced gasps revealed his fear, desperate to try and get it out of him, his eyes already in tears.
"Hmm, very interesting, and how long ago was this... it seems more like an incident from you past, judging by your time period?"
"Eight years ago, I was ten years old, and back then, I was growing up into a man." He replied, slowly soothing down, his panting becoming less intense and his eyes no longer watery.
"And what is it that terrifies you the most?" The doctor asked, glancing poker faced to the fox.
"I lost friends, when I went to the battle point, I was placed in charged of a soldier battalion; it was to test my own skills in leadership. Sally said I had the characteristics of a leader, and that I could become better with practice. I was also in charge of creating a device that would help protect us from the effects, from the signal that machine emitted, to make us immune. It wasn't tested, and we had no time, Eggman was planning to make it mobile, and we had little choice to even delay the attack. We had no choice, making haste, Sally explained the plans, and how to attack, but I warned the invention wasn't tested, even if the signal could be thrown into disarray, we still had the threat of the mental waves. That was when the prelude to the massacre, the slaughter that was my nightmare." Tails said, trying once more to hold back his tears.
"Hmm, what exactly type of device did you create?"
"A F.I.H., a Frequency Immunizing Headset, built to give us a resistant from the sound waves emanated from the weapon we had codenamed BESERKER. I spent hours building it, piece by piece, and imputing a communicator to communicate in the case that the machine also had an effect on technology. I only had a few hours to test the functions, before the emergency came up, and we started off. Given only a brief time, I told them to put it in a mono-barrier, and head to di-barrier if anything strange occurred. It seemed even after, there were a few instances, and max level didn't cut it off, I chose to cut off communications." He went silent not wanting to explain the rest.
"Hmm, you seem still to feel guilt over this, you can't get over the guilt that your friends died because of your own actions, from what I can see." The Dr. stated, writing more bits and pieces of info onto his paper.
"It literally forced me into a mental house, I tried to kill myself, and did so much that they decided I needed mental help. I was there for two years, before I finally was categorized as sane. Amy was the only one who greeted me, just when I walked out of that place." Tails said with a sigh, his tone on a normal speaking tone.
"You seem calmer, did anything happen at that area?"
"If you mean in terms of abuse, I would say you watch too many movies, I wasn't given any type of treatment that would be considered unfair, those days were more of a time of trying to help me calm down, never to endanger me." Tails replied harshly, easily he was sick of the idea of ever being asked about that.
"Sorry, just for terms, remember, I am a certified psychologist." He stated pointing over to the walls where his degrees of many were hung, around a total of fifteen by the count Tails could make out.
"That's why I am here; I don't why it is all now coming back, why now, why at this time?" Tails replied confused by it all.
"You said you forget, yet when it comes back, the idea seems to weaken you, bring you to your knees sort to speak. Tell me, is this all that you fear, is there something you're not telling me?" The Dr. asked once more.
"No Dr. Clayborne, not at all." Tails replied, showing a serious face.
Deep inside, he knew it was a lie, someone did survive, and for the past few years they were responsible for several hundred murders, and the suspect was at large. Tails though never wanted to think of it, that scene, that day, it all was nothing but a bad dream, it was a memory he for so long just wished would vanish. Since that day, it was hard to get back to his normal life, right now, being eighteen; he worked as a stocker, restocking areas of the mall during the early hours, and late afternoons.
"For now, I will say you should try to focus on something else, try and get your mind off it, but your case is one that I feel you must confront, but that area you speak of... I don't what to say, not one person has returned themselves after visiting that place, and I doubt you should go back." The Dr. suggested shaking his head.
"I never want to, that place is not a place I want to ever return to, that place is a grave that my friends are in, and visits are not taken lightly at all." He replied sighing.
"I hope so, still, to think you were a survivor isn't to hard to believe, your record does state that you indeed were involved with the mission to prevent it from becoming transportable, but yet, you said the mission was a failure, how can it be when the thing is now stranded in that area?" The doctor asked, standing to his feet, but still eager for the story.
"As long as a device like that still exists, then this world is in danger of its effects..." He stated, walking out the door.
Tails shook his head, taking a deep breath.
How could any fool even understand the mission?
Around seventy-five percent of the public believes what the media says.
The military though had to have played a role in the printed story, why else would the media have been censored, why they would have stated that the Freedom Fighters sacrificed their lives for the prevention of the catastrophic invention known only as BESERKER.
He only glanced to the ground, lost in though as he walked through the ever so boring hallway, even with the pictures of landscapes or of Chao, he didn't care much for either. No matter what he looked at, he felt no opinion, life to him was worthless, and yet he lived. Why didn't he just take a knife, and stab himself through the heart, and end his pitiful misery, end this suffering. Even a handgun would do a good deed if it took his meaningless life, a quicker one then a stab at the best.
"So how did things go?" Amy asked, standing to her feet, arms cupped along her stomach, as she wore a casual skirt, a bright Christmas red as usual, with the white aligning on it.
She had matured, blossoming into a full grown hedgehog, her beauty still the same as Tails had seen when he was still ten years old. Her face retained its still caring and charming looks, the smile and innocent eyes, she still seemed like the girl from ten years. Amy had a career though, she had done fashions for a time, but she was taking time off whenever Tails had went into this state.
The fox had gone through a lot for a kid his age, in her view, he was traumatized by his friends own murders. She always tried to cheer him up, the only way she knew how, by being there for him in times of need. That time was now, and Tails to her was a friend she lost, and wanted him back.
"I feel no relief, all I feel is despair, pain, and torment, the day I still regret ever becoming a leader." He spoke sadly.
"Can't you think positive, like you did all those years ago?" Amy pleaded, hating to him be so cold.
"Those years died, just like a women's virginity when her hymen is broken. I guess if you died, I would have no reason to live." He replied, walking outside, Amy following closely behind, the two leaving the air conditioned office, entering the downtown streets of Station Square, the evening sun bathing the western sides of the skyscrapers, the gleaming shines easily turning the west side into an area of gold.
The city already was busy with people getting off work, the traffic already starting up, as the sound of cars waiting in a fashionable order, horns blaring from the impatient drivers. Amy, being as wealthy as she was, had her own limousine, white, with a red leather seating. To Tails, something so great was not anything to him. What was wealth, was it the ability to spend so much money, or was it the ability to make one look so great that the public fell in love with them.
What is fame worth?
Why could someone enjoy being bothered by fans and the media for so long?
Do those people even have a life?
Tails only looked at each of them like fools, but he didn't consider Amy a fool, she was a girl following her dreams, becoming a model for clothing, maybe not for the people of Station Square, but for most of the mobians of this planet.
"Want some Grand Cola?" She asked, holding a bottle out near him.
"No thanks, I'd rather have a drink of vodka, but the last time I drank, I almost got myself killed." Tails answered feeling ashamed.
He never did have a good experience when it came to drinking. The first time at a party, he got so drunk that he babbled on about his agony, really making himself a fool. Amy, who had chosen to bring him there was the one who forced him to leave, and brought him back to her place. After waking up with a big hangover, and with a more irritated Amy, he decided to never try and drink so much again, at least not more then a glass, only a small amount.
Amy though told him of how he acted, but she didn't yell at him, she told him with the same tone that she used most of the time. Tails though didn't plan to drink so often, maybe a glass on holidays, but never to often, he felt he would only make a scene and make people miserable. He was though mocked by many who were at the party, most telling him if his life sucked so much, he should just kill himself. Tails only gave one response, the middle finger, easily stating his point 'Fuck You' to those who seemed to find pleasure in degrading others.
"So are you still a stock boy for the mall?" Amy questioned, trying to move on to another subject.
"Yeah, it is repetitive, especially during the holidays, the one with all the gift giving." He answered, with a deep sigh.
"Stressful?"
"Not too often, until someone allergic to my fur comes in, then I am told to take a break for a while." Tails stated, shaking his head.
He did hate it when his fur caused allergies in people, even with medicines that were able to prevent them, there were some who didn't want to take them, and they wanted to just live their life without them. Still, the fox always went to work, wearing the uniform he was given, and did his job to the fullest. He did, however, have problems with a boss by the name of Mike. The guy was a moron, literally. Tails did try to be proper, but being forced to say please so often just to get a break was tiring. The idiot talked more about his life in the ghetto, and how he knew psychology.
Mike, in truth possessed little knowledge in the field, cause whenever Tails asked him about the subject, the guy made an excuse, and never got back to it. Tails already back-talked him on several occasions, the first was when he kept bitching to Tails to keep pushing Tails to get one store stocked, and as Tails loaded the cart, the fuck came up and told him to put the shop on hold and take care of another area. To top it off, the bastard threatened to fire Tails if the fox didn't get the job done in an hour.
Tails was fed up with it, the guy had kept pushing and pushing, stating his way or the highway, making snappy remarks towards Tails, and when he was given the taste of his own medicine, he literally told the fox that if he didn't shape up, he would fire him. For the fox, this was the last straw, he worked his ass off each day for this fuck of a boss, and what did the son of a bitch give him, more mouth, and less respect then he gave the other workers.
Tails already felt the anger boiling up; he picked up a nearby box on the shelf, and threw it on the ground with the strength he had, which was pretty decent when you work as a stocker, lifting heavy boxes. As the box hit the floor, the sound of glass shattering was the one sound that easily made the boss jump. The fox panted, glaring with a fed up expression on his face. The boss only glanced back shocked, shaking his head.
Like any moron, Mike flipped out, shouting at Tails with a tone that the fox could care less for. As much as it was a pain, the moron was fired when he made a racist statement to one of the employee's, fired right on the spot, and dragged outside by security. Outside he was literally beaten to death by a few offended people who take things never so lightly beat the living shit out of him. No sorrow or amusement did the fox the feel when he overheard this, he didn't care about what happened to the moron, he wasn't god, he wasn't his friend, he was just a man who was raised and obviously one-track minded when it came to dealing with people like Tails.
"I guess without that boss, things are clearing up huh?"
"Kinda, but the new boss isn't such a moron." He replied, sighing deeply.
The traffic finally started moving, the limo finally advancing forth, slowly was it heading to where the two stayed. Tails glanced to the side, finding people walking home, streetlights finally were on, activating one to another, the street side restaurants remained open, people sitting near the windows, waiting for their food to be prepared. Tails only wondered the same questions that he thought of but never did search for clear answers.
Why people were always biased?
What was the big deal with image?
Was it just something that everyone was so concerned with that they went as far as plastic surgery just to keep their youthful face? People categorize so much, divided themselves among groups, each fighting one another for a cause that was meaningless. Humans already showed most of the terror, as data dating back to two millenniums ago when certain people formed a racist group, and praised hatred against people who chose paths that were not theirs.
Why did people hate one another, was it fear, was it just what they were taught, or was it something in the past that they used for an excuse?
With every new life, there was only one new path, one new profile, one new story. Perceptions of one was but a million, right and wrong is judged by morals, it what the person takes as true, their path is what they make of it. What they feel is only what they judge, biased by their own rules, it what made one a mortal. The mind always had an understanding only by what they learned when they are young.
He glanced to the sky, the stars now dotting the sky. The moon a crescent that gave a dim light that separated darkness from the night. Darkness was indeed what Robotropolis was, a place surrounded by clouds, not a ray of the sun, nor a ray of the moon shined through the thick layers that were high in the sky. Those clouds were but one of the symbolic features that showed the ill omen the late doctor once showed.
Late indeed, for he created a machine so powerful, so deadly, that he himself was driven into insanity by its effect, his own device drove him to end his existence among the living. He had been driven perhaps to a extent of insanity, a limit perhaps no mind could ever withstand, one so strong that mortals were meant never to even possess.
As Pandora's Box was never meant to be open, BESERKER was never meant to be created. Insane he was, but when he created such a machine, was it for his own benefit, did he consider what effects it would have on him? So many things Tails only pondered, but never did he have the will to even search for such an answer.
The limo halted to a stop, Tails looked out the tinted windows that concealed all inside. He noticed where they were, an apartment, expensive, and suited for those of wealth. Amy lived here, and she allowed Tails to stay with her as a roommate. Tails had no idea why he chose to live with her, was it love that bounded to go with her, was it pity, or was it his own choice, out of friendship, that he chose to live with her.
Amy, he never did so often see her, she was busy with shows, fashioning off clothing, it was her hobby, he wish, to model clothing, to be pictured throughout cities, on billboards, on TV, and she wanted this job for the cloths. Young girls who played dress-ups, that it what Amy did when she was young, always try on cloths, mostly any she could find around the village. While Sally and Bunnie hated her using their cloths, they didn't pressure her as she was a young girl still trying to enjoy life.
As he stepped out, following closely behind Amy, the two walked through the ever repetitive hallways, the same way he had every day when he returned. Walking into the elevator, Amy pressed the third floor button, the elevator ascending up to the third floor, a ding sound alerting them of the new floor they were on. Their room now only a few seconds away, door number forty-five, as well the room.
"Home sweet home." Amy mentioned, cheerful as she always was.
Tails walked inside, he somehow always went home, but he never felt as happy. He felt more like a character from one of his cartoons, one who felt more bored with the world, bored with his town, as said in the pilot episode, 'Nothing special ever happens here'. He never did wish to actually have the life most lived, even for adventure. Sonic and he had enough of an adventure for just one lifetime.
Walking into the kitchen, he opened the near empty fridge; he never did eat too much. Amy though was also very strict with her diet, feeling if she ate too much food, she would turn plump. Tails really caught on with this, worrying what would happen when the modeling agents turned her down. He heard many stories of how most turned to crack just to keep their weight, lose a few pounds instantly.
His biggest was eating disorders, what if Amy went to eating it all up for the nutrients, then vomiting it all up. Tails shivered at the thought, he hated to think of the disorder, and he didn't know the name ever to well. Yet he did know of what the victims who died because of it did, the stomach acids nearly tore up their throat each time they threw up. All that acid would do is tear away at the throat of the victim, and made their throat more vulnerable.
The throat would grow weaker, and eventually death would come from the result. So many stories he heard of this disorder, and how he feared what lengths Amy would go to just to keep her career. It worried him deeply, she was so happy with her life, and to be pressured by so many to lose weight, just for the show. So many became corrupt because of pressure, who wouldn't, it was nature that people fall to something.
Those who lost a job or a family turned to alcohol or drugs. People who had a stressful job turned to cigarettes. It was a cycle that many followed; they used processed products that were put to waste. Trays filled with the ashes of the buds people smoked, inhaled and burnt to a certain point.
Tails never turned to any, mostly for Amy. He once was about to smoke one, as he was on break, and outside of work. Amy had come for a surprise visit, knowing when he took his breaks, and barging in on his break, she spotting him about to light up a cigarette. Shouting loudly, the fox jumped, dropping the cigarette, as Amy glanced to him with disappointment, and told him the harms. She then asked him to promise never to smoke or turn to anything abusive for relief. Tails had no choice, Amy had given him so much, she had stood by him for so long, supported him in times of despair. He agreed with a stern and still saddened reply.
The fox didn't want to disappoint her at all. She was his only friend, the only one he ever could turn to. He couldn't betray her, never.
A promise to those with fate is a contract that cannot be broken, but to those who take their faith for granted, it wasn't always a serious idea.
Many though never did stand by it deeply, they only choose it for a belief, but never did focus on it, only partly by one day visits to a sanctuary where they worshiped their being with songs of prayers.
He grasped a can of his sour Lime Soda, mostly as the bitterness to him was nectar of taste. Some liked the sweeter things in life, sugar coated mostly, or chocolate, with its ever so loving taste. The taste of food fresh some always had to have, others not caring how their food was, and accepted it how it was. Tails didn't care anymore, he only ate what was given, he never did want anything to hot or cold. Acceptance with the way it was, how he always seemed to like it.
Walking to the TV area, he looked to where Amy was, as usual watching the weather. He glanced over, seeing the female weather reporter, as he smiled, seeing the rain forecasted for the next days. He strolled to his room, knowing he needed some sleep.
"Will the nightmares happen tonight, or will something different occur?"
Dreams, their meaning unknown, enigma as the eye could ever see. Some were a sign of guilt that repeated its scenes, giving a feeling of evil. Tails dreamed odd things, but recently, his dreams were altered in how things went on, some ended when he did.
The scene was the same within the area of BESERKER, the device known only for pure insanity. The area sent chills through Tails; it was not to easy to even face such a device. So many had died on that day, and Tails was only one of the last Freedom Fighters to escape. The other was out there, somewhere, reeking havoc along the land. It undeniable that the survivor would eventually go for Tails, it was fate that would play the role in it.
Laying down on his bed, he glanced up to the ceiling, slowly feeling drowsy, as his eyelids shut. He only hoped he would not have to experience another nightmare again. Not tonight, he wanted to forget it, he wanted to go to work, and not have to ponder on the images he always had within his head.
***
Deep in the forest, in the nocturnal of night, the leaves a full bloomed green, that shaded the forest with darkness. Murder though recently occurred, the body of a slaughtered duck laid torn on the ground, stabbed around the heart. An arm ripped from its socket, its feathers plucked from the wing. Near a tree where a figure was standing, he finished the arm off, eating it raw. Throwing it away, the skunk panted, his hand over his heart as he took every deep breath.
"WHY!!" He shouted, his hands slowly moving up to grasp his head.
Silence, not one voice replied from the woods. Was he speaking to someone around, was he seeing a spirit, or was it something that even some couldn't explain.
"Pain... PAIN... Why must I feel pain... ?" He asked, shivering in disgust, his eyes bloodshot, his breath dry as he took each rasping gasp.
Still nothing answered, but there was something speaking, something nobody would hear, a case that some claims is a result of a disorder. A voice inside his head.
Mocking him...
Degrading him...
Corrupting his every will...
He could not resist, for it was relentless in its speech, never did he sleep without waking up to its shrill tone. Yet was that all that there was, couldn't someone just ignore it? It depended on the person, but for Geoffrey St. John, the victim that now faced this danger, it was unbearable to even avoid.
"Damn you... DAMN YOU TO HELL!!" He cried out, screaming in pain, he curled up, shaking in form the effects.
His eyes shut tightly, as he whimpered, wishing the pain would stop, wishing it would go away. Begging sometimes could get a few people far, but for him, it was hopeless, utterly hopeless.
**************************************************************************** **********
Rain, beads of water that pour down form the sky, tapping the roof with rapid pats of a soothing sound, a sound that only ocean waves could ever equal. Raindrops. inner peace for me and perhaps the one thing that relief's my mellow heart that seems to always control my choices. The droplets of rain, the shape they have, it beckons a memory to be remembered, a will, a reason, the reason why I live.
Next Chapter: Pitter Patter of the Raindrops.
I suggest cutting communications, in order to seal off the sound, but Sally disapproves. I disobey and do so at my own will, knowing if there is a danger, it must be avoided. Doing so, the horror begins, my team starts turning on one another, panting, screaming in pain.
"What are they doing, physically that is?" The Dr. asked, jotting down the information like a stenographer in the courtroom, recording every word that is heard from each of the speakers.
"Eyes closed, they kneel to the ground. Holding their heads, they stand, screaming 'get out of my head' before they each open their eyes, bloodshot eyes... They cringe, and glance at one another, and in an instant, they begin to shoot one another. I back away in horror, as each one of them kills... I hear the voice and pushing each of the buttons, trying to tune it out... an overlander, a female with blond hair, sea blue eyes, and a pure as silk white nightgown floats in midair before me, her face in the age of a young adult girl, beckoning me to come forth. I randomly in spit of fear pound a sequence of keys, I can't remember them well, but I know I somehow am able to tune her out." He said hoarsely, taking numerous amounts of deep breaths.
"The female, was she skinny, plump-"
"A goddess, glowing with heavens light, she was perhaps a dream girl any human would fall for, giving in to her every command, bowing before her. She is though a deceiver, her beauty only a cloak to shade the foulness that shows her true motive, of death, of torment, of chaos... " Tails continued, trying to remain calm, but his paced gasps revealed his fear, desperate to try and get it out of him, his eyes already in tears.
"Hmm, very interesting, and how long ago was this... it seems more like an incident from you past, judging by your time period?"
"Eight years ago, I was ten years old, and back then, I was growing up into a man." He replied, slowly soothing down, his panting becoming less intense and his eyes no longer watery.
"And what is it that terrifies you the most?" The doctor asked, glancing poker faced to the fox.
"I lost friends, when I went to the battle point, I was placed in charged of a soldier battalion; it was to test my own skills in leadership. Sally said I had the characteristics of a leader, and that I could become better with practice. I was also in charge of creating a device that would help protect us from the effects, from the signal that machine emitted, to make us immune. It wasn't tested, and we had no time, Eggman was planning to make it mobile, and we had little choice to even delay the attack. We had no choice, making haste, Sally explained the plans, and how to attack, but I warned the invention wasn't tested, even if the signal could be thrown into disarray, we still had the threat of the mental waves. That was when the prelude to the massacre, the slaughter that was my nightmare." Tails said, trying once more to hold back his tears.
"Hmm, what exactly type of device did you create?"
"A F.I.H., a Frequency Immunizing Headset, built to give us a resistant from the sound waves emanated from the weapon we had codenamed BESERKER. I spent hours building it, piece by piece, and imputing a communicator to communicate in the case that the machine also had an effect on technology. I only had a few hours to test the functions, before the emergency came up, and we started off. Given only a brief time, I told them to put it in a mono-barrier, and head to di-barrier if anything strange occurred. It seemed even after, there were a few instances, and max level didn't cut it off, I chose to cut off communications." He went silent not wanting to explain the rest.
"Hmm, you seem still to feel guilt over this, you can't get over the guilt that your friends died because of your own actions, from what I can see." The Dr. stated, writing more bits and pieces of info onto his paper.
"It literally forced me into a mental house, I tried to kill myself, and did so much that they decided I needed mental help. I was there for two years, before I finally was categorized as sane. Amy was the only one who greeted me, just when I walked out of that place." Tails said with a sigh, his tone on a normal speaking tone.
"You seem calmer, did anything happen at that area?"
"If you mean in terms of abuse, I would say you watch too many movies, I wasn't given any type of treatment that would be considered unfair, those days were more of a time of trying to help me calm down, never to endanger me." Tails replied harshly, easily he was sick of the idea of ever being asked about that.
"Sorry, just for terms, remember, I am a certified psychologist." He stated pointing over to the walls where his degrees of many were hung, around a total of fifteen by the count Tails could make out.
"That's why I am here; I don't why it is all now coming back, why now, why at this time?" Tails replied confused by it all.
"You said you forget, yet when it comes back, the idea seems to weaken you, bring you to your knees sort to speak. Tell me, is this all that you fear, is there something you're not telling me?" The Dr. asked once more.
"No Dr. Clayborne, not at all." Tails replied, showing a serious face.
Deep inside, he knew it was a lie, someone did survive, and for the past few years they were responsible for several hundred murders, and the suspect was at large. Tails though never wanted to think of it, that scene, that day, it all was nothing but a bad dream, it was a memory he for so long just wished would vanish. Since that day, it was hard to get back to his normal life, right now, being eighteen; he worked as a stocker, restocking areas of the mall during the early hours, and late afternoons.
"For now, I will say you should try to focus on something else, try and get your mind off it, but your case is one that I feel you must confront, but that area you speak of... I don't what to say, not one person has returned themselves after visiting that place, and I doubt you should go back." The Dr. suggested shaking his head.
"I never want to, that place is not a place I want to ever return to, that place is a grave that my friends are in, and visits are not taken lightly at all." He replied sighing.
"I hope so, still, to think you were a survivor isn't to hard to believe, your record does state that you indeed were involved with the mission to prevent it from becoming transportable, but yet, you said the mission was a failure, how can it be when the thing is now stranded in that area?" The doctor asked, standing to his feet, but still eager for the story.
"As long as a device like that still exists, then this world is in danger of its effects..." He stated, walking out the door.
Tails shook his head, taking a deep breath.
How could any fool even understand the mission?
Around seventy-five percent of the public believes what the media says.
The military though had to have played a role in the printed story, why else would the media have been censored, why they would have stated that the Freedom Fighters sacrificed their lives for the prevention of the catastrophic invention known only as BESERKER.
He only glanced to the ground, lost in though as he walked through the ever so boring hallway, even with the pictures of landscapes or of Chao, he didn't care much for either. No matter what he looked at, he felt no opinion, life to him was worthless, and yet he lived. Why didn't he just take a knife, and stab himself through the heart, and end his pitiful misery, end this suffering. Even a handgun would do a good deed if it took his meaningless life, a quicker one then a stab at the best.
"So how did things go?" Amy asked, standing to her feet, arms cupped along her stomach, as she wore a casual skirt, a bright Christmas red as usual, with the white aligning on it.
She had matured, blossoming into a full grown hedgehog, her beauty still the same as Tails had seen when he was still ten years old. Her face retained its still caring and charming looks, the smile and innocent eyes, she still seemed like the girl from ten years. Amy had a career though, she had done fashions for a time, but she was taking time off whenever Tails had went into this state.
The fox had gone through a lot for a kid his age, in her view, he was traumatized by his friends own murders. She always tried to cheer him up, the only way she knew how, by being there for him in times of need. That time was now, and Tails to her was a friend she lost, and wanted him back.
"I feel no relief, all I feel is despair, pain, and torment, the day I still regret ever becoming a leader." He spoke sadly.
"Can't you think positive, like you did all those years ago?" Amy pleaded, hating to him be so cold.
"Those years died, just like a women's virginity when her hymen is broken. I guess if you died, I would have no reason to live." He replied, walking outside, Amy following closely behind, the two leaving the air conditioned office, entering the downtown streets of Station Square, the evening sun bathing the western sides of the skyscrapers, the gleaming shines easily turning the west side into an area of gold.
The city already was busy with people getting off work, the traffic already starting up, as the sound of cars waiting in a fashionable order, horns blaring from the impatient drivers. Amy, being as wealthy as she was, had her own limousine, white, with a red leather seating. To Tails, something so great was not anything to him. What was wealth, was it the ability to spend so much money, or was it the ability to make one look so great that the public fell in love with them.
What is fame worth?
Why could someone enjoy being bothered by fans and the media for so long?
Do those people even have a life?
Tails only looked at each of them like fools, but he didn't consider Amy a fool, she was a girl following her dreams, becoming a model for clothing, maybe not for the people of Station Square, but for most of the mobians of this planet.
"Want some Grand Cola?" She asked, holding a bottle out near him.
"No thanks, I'd rather have a drink of vodka, but the last time I drank, I almost got myself killed." Tails answered feeling ashamed.
He never did have a good experience when it came to drinking. The first time at a party, he got so drunk that he babbled on about his agony, really making himself a fool. Amy, who had chosen to bring him there was the one who forced him to leave, and brought him back to her place. After waking up with a big hangover, and with a more irritated Amy, he decided to never try and drink so much again, at least not more then a glass, only a small amount.
Amy though told him of how he acted, but she didn't yell at him, she told him with the same tone that she used most of the time. Tails though didn't plan to drink so often, maybe a glass on holidays, but never to often, he felt he would only make a scene and make people miserable. He was though mocked by many who were at the party, most telling him if his life sucked so much, he should just kill himself. Tails only gave one response, the middle finger, easily stating his point 'Fuck You' to those who seemed to find pleasure in degrading others.
"So are you still a stock boy for the mall?" Amy questioned, trying to move on to another subject.
"Yeah, it is repetitive, especially during the holidays, the one with all the gift giving." He answered, with a deep sigh.
"Stressful?"
"Not too often, until someone allergic to my fur comes in, then I am told to take a break for a while." Tails stated, shaking his head.
He did hate it when his fur caused allergies in people, even with medicines that were able to prevent them, there were some who didn't want to take them, and they wanted to just live their life without them. Still, the fox always went to work, wearing the uniform he was given, and did his job to the fullest. He did, however, have problems with a boss by the name of Mike. The guy was a moron, literally. Tails did try to be proper, but being forced to say please so often just to get a break was tiring. The idiot talked more about his life in the ghetto, and how he knew psychology.
Mike, in truth possessed little knowledge in the field, cause whenever Tails asked him about the subject, the guy made an excuse, and never got back to it. Tails already back-talked him on several occasions, the first was when he kept bitching to Tails to keep pushing Tails to get one store stocked, and as Tails loaded the cart, the fuck came up and told him to put the shop on hold and take care of another area. To top it off, the bastard threatened to fire Tails if the fox didn't get the job done in an hour.
Tails was fed up with it, the guy had kept pushing and pushing, stating his way or the highway, making snappy remarks towards Tails, and when he was given the taste of his own medicine, he literally told the fox that if he didn't shape up, he would fire him. For the fox, this was the last straw, he worked his ass off each day for this fuck of a boss, and what did the son of a bitch give him, more mouth, and less respect then he gave the other workers.
Tails already felt the anger boiling up; he picked up a nearby box on the shelf, and threw it on the ground with the strength he had, which was pretty decent when you work as a stocker, lifting heavy boxes. As the box hit the floor, the sound of glass shattering was the one sound that easily made the boss jump. The fox panted, glaring with a fed up expression on his face. The boss only glanced back shocked, shaking his head.
Like any moron, Mike flipped out, shouting at Tails with a tone that the fox could care less for. As much as it was a pain, the moron was fired when he made a racist statement to one of the employee's, fired right on the spot, and dragged outside by security. Outside he was literally beaten to death by a few offended people who take things never so lightly beat the living shit out of him. No sorrow or amusement did the fox the feel when he overheard this, he didn't care about what happened to the moron, he wasn't god, he wasn't his friend, he was just a man who was raised and obviously one-track minded when it came to dealing with people like Tails.
"I guess without that boss, things are clearing up huh?"
"Kinda, but the new boss isn't such a moron." He replied, sighing deeply.
The traffic finally started moving, the limo finally advancing forth, slowly was it heading to where the two stayed. Tails glanced to the side, finding people walking home, streetlights finally were on, activating one to another, the street side restaurants remained open, people sitting near the windows, waiting for their food to be prepared. Tails only wondered the same questions that he thought of but never did search for clear answers.
Why people were always biased?
What was the big deal with image?
Was it just something that everyone was so concerned with that they went as far as plastic surgery just to keep their youthful face? People categorize so much, divided themselves among groups, each fighting one another for a cause that was meaningless. Humans already showed most of the terror, as data dating back to two millenniums ago when certain people formed a racist group, and praised hatred against people who chose paths that were not theirs.
Why did people hate one another, was it fear, was it just what they were taught, or was it something in the past that they used for an excuse?
With every new life, there was only one new path, one new profile, one new story. Perceptions of one was but a million, right and wrong is judged by morals, it what the person takes as true, their path is what they make of it. What they feel is only what they judge, biased by their own rules, it what made one a mortal. The mind always had an understanding only by what they learned when they are young.
He glanced to the sky, the stars now dotting the sky. The moon a crescent that gave a dim light that separated darkness from the night. Darkness was indeed what Robotropolis was, a place surrounded by clouds, not a ray of the sun, nor a ray of the moon shined through the thick layers that were high in the sky. Those clouds were but one of the symbolic features that showed the ill omen the late doctor once showed.
Late indeed, for he created a machine so powerful, so deadly, that he himself was driven into insanity by its effect, his own device drove him to end his existence among the living. He had been driven perhaps to a extent of insanity, a limit perhaps no mind could ever withstand, one so strong that mortals were meant never to even possess.
As Pandora's Box was never meant to be open, BESERKER was never meant to be created. Insane he was, but when he created such a machine, was it for his own benefit, did he consider what effects it would have on him? So many things Tails only pondered, but never did he have the will to even search for such an answer.
The limo halted to a stop, Tails looked out the tinted windows that concealed all inside. He noticed where they were, an apartment, expensive, and suited for those of wealth. Amy lived here, and she allowed Tails to stay with her as a roommate. Tails had no idea why he chose to live with her, was it love that bounded to go with her, was it pity, or was it his own choice, out of friendship, that he chose to live with her.
Amy, he never did so often see her, she was busy with shows, fashioning off clothing, it was her hobby, he wish, to model clothing, to be pictured throughout cities, on billboards, on TV, and she wanted this job for the cloths. Young girls who played dress-ups, that it what Amy did when she was young, always try on cloths, mostly any she could find around the village. While Sally and Bunnie hated her using their cloths, they didn't pressure her as she was a young girl still trying to enjoy life.
As he stepped out, following closely behind Amy, the two walked through the ever repetitive hallways, the same way he had every day when he returned. Walking into the elevator, Amy pressed the third floor button, the elevator ascending up to the third floor, a ding sound alerting them of the new floor they were on. Their room now only a few seconds away, door number forty-five, as well the room.
"Home sweet home." Amy mentioned, cheerful as she always was.
Tails walked inside, he somehow always went home, but he never felt as happy. He felt more like a character from one of his cartoons, one who felt more bored with the world, bored with his town, as said in the pilot episode, 'Nothing special ever happens here'. He never did wish to actually have the life most lived, even for adventure. Sonic and he had enough of an adventure for just one lifetime.
Walking into the kitchen, he opened the near empty fridge; he never did eat too much. Amy though was also very strict with her diet, feeling if she ate too much food, she would turn plump. Tails really caught on with this, worrying what would happen when the modeling agents turned her down. He heard many stories of how most turned to crack just to keep their weight, lose a few pounds instantly.
His biggest was eating disorders, what if Amy went to eating it all up for the nutrients, then vomiting it all up. Tails shivered at the thought, he hated to think of the disorder, and he didn't know the name ever to well. Yet he did know of what the victims who died because of it did, the stomach acids nearly tore up their throat each time they threw up. All that acid would do is tear away at the throat of the victim, and made their throat more vulnerable.
The throat would grow weaker, and eventually death would come from the result. So many stories he heard of this disorder, and how he feared what lengths Amy would go to just to keep her career. It worried him deeply, she was so happy with her life, and to be pressured by so many to lose weight, just for the show. So many became corrupt because of pressure, who wouldn't, it was nature that people fall to something.
Those who lost a job or a family turned to alcohol or drugs. People who had a stressful job turned to cigarettes. It was a cycle that many followed; they used processed products that were put to waste. Trays filled with the ashes of the buds people smoked, inhaled and burnt to a certain point.
Tails never turned to any, mostly for Amy. He once was about to smoke one, as he was on break, and outside of work. Amy had come for a surprise visit, knowing when he took his breaks, and barging in on his break, she spotting him about to light up a cigarette. Shouting loudly, the fox jumped, dropping the cigarette, as Amy glanced to him with disappointment, and told him the harms. She then asked him to promise never to smoke or turn to anything abusive for relief. Tails had no choice, Amy had given him so much, she had stood by him for so long, supported him in times of despair. He agreed with a stern and still saddened reply.
The fox didn't want to disappoint her at all. She was his only friend, the only one he ever could turn to. He couldn't betray her, never.
A promise to those with fate is a contract that cannot be broken, but to those who take their faith for granted, it wasn't always a serious idea.
Many though never did stand by it deeply, they only choose it for a belief, but never did focus on it, only partly by one day visits to a sanctuary where they worshiped their being with songs of prayers.
He grasped a can of his sour Lime Soda, mostly as the bitterness to him was nectar of taste. Some liked the sweeter things in life, sugar coated mostly, or chocolate, with its ever so loving taste. The taste of food fresh some always had to have, others not caring how their food was, and accepted it how it was. Tails didn't care anymore, he only ate what was given, he never did want anything to hot or cold. Acceptance with the way it was, how he always seemed to like it.
Walking to the TV area, he looked to where Amy was, as usual watching the weather. He glanced over, seeing the female weather reporter, as he smiled, seeing the rain forecasted for the next days. He strolled to his room, knowing he needed some sleep.
"Will the nightmares happen tonight, or will something different occur?"
Dreams, their meaning unknown, enigma as the eye could ever see. Some were a sign of guilt that repeated its scenes, giving a feeling of evil. Tails dreamed odd things, but recently, his dreams were altered in how things went on, some ended when he did.
The scene was the same within the area of BESERKER, the device known only for pure insanity. The area sent chills through Tails; it was not to easy to even face such a device. So many had died on that day, and Tails was only one of the last Freedom Fighters to escape. The other was out there, somewhere, reeking havoc along the land. It undeniable that the survivor would eventually go for Tails, it was fate that would play the role in it.
Laying down on his bed, he glanced up to the ceiling, slowly feeling drowsy, as his eyelids shut. He only hoped he would not have to experience another nightmare again. Not tonight, he wanted to forget it, he wanted to go to work, and not have to ponder on the images he always had within his head.
***
Deep in the forest, in the nocturnal of night, the leaves a full bloomed green, that shaded the forest with darkness. Murder though recently occurred, the body of a slaughtered duck laid torn on the ground, stabbed around the heart. An arm ripped from its socket, its feathers plucked from the wing. Near a tree where a figure was standing, he finished the arm off, eating it raw. Throwing it away, the skunk panted, his hand over his heart as he took every deep breath.
"WHY!!" He shouted, his hands slowly moving up to grasp his head.
Silence, not one voice replied from the woods. Was he speaking to someone around, was he seeing a spirit, or was it something that even some couldn't explain.
"Pain... PAIN... Why must I feel pain... ?" He asked, shivering in disgust, his eyes bloodshot, his breath dry as he took each rasping gasp.
Still nothing answered, but there was something speaking, something nobody would hear, a case that some claims is a result of a disorder. A voice inside his head.
Mocking him...
Degrading him...
Corrupting his every will...
He could not resist, for it was relentless in its speech, never did he sleep without waking up to its shrill tone. Yet was that all that there was, couldn't someone just ignore it? It depended on the person, but for Geoffrey St. John, the victim that now faced this danger, it was unbearable to even avoid.
"Damn you... DAMN YOU TO HELL!!" He cried out, screaming in pain, he curled up, shaking in form the effects.
His eyes shut tightly, as he whimpered, wishing the pain would stop, wishing it would go away. Begging sometimes could get a few people far, but for him, it was hopeless, utterly hopeless.
**************************************************************************** **********
Rain, beads of water that pour down form the sky, tapping the roof with rapid pats of a soothing sound, a sound that only ocean waves could ever equal. Raindrops. inner peace for me and perhaps the one thing that relief's my mellow heart that seems to always control my choices. The droplets of rain, the shape they have, it beckons a memory to be remembered, a will, a reason, the reason why I live.
Next Chapter: Pitter Patter of the Raindrops.