It was Blaze who opened the door to the wrestling bar, as she let Elis walk in first. They were wearing wrestling robes; Blaze's was black while Elis' was blue, the covering of their training gear.

Blaze and Elis differed a whole lot in appearance. Firstly, Elis was a human. Short for his age of fifteen, but rather skinny, and had hair the back of which reached halfway down his neck and blue eyes, the front of his hair only managing to reach as far as his thick black eyebrows.

Blaze was, on the other hand, a Mobian Cat. Purple, with her fur getting darker on the back of her head and the end of her tail. Around her mouth and nose there was a large patch of white fur, her irises (which were right above this white patch) were bright orange. Her figure was slender, even if it was obvious most of her body consists of muscle, awarded by years of intensive combat training.

Elis looked around the dining tables that were always empty at noon. The wood-lined walls were proudly decorated with signed T-Shirts and wrestling robes, newspaper cut-outs from memorable moments in Mobian sporting history and even some professional fighting belts. Most of the newer ones, he noticed, were won by Blaze.

"Blaze," he finally asked.

"Yes?" she answered in her formal English accent.

"Where are we? This place seems..."

"Familiar?"

"Yeah," he curiously edged around the table labelled with the number two. "I've definitely been here before..."

"You have," a wrinkled, grey-haired human added. He slapped his wet cloth on the bar table and began rubbing before adding. "When yer run a bar this side of Mobius, yer never ferget a human face. You came here 'bout five years ago!"

"You have a great memory, Jim!" Blaze said to the bartender before turning to Elis. "We met here. I was fighting some loser who though a female lightweight champion was easy. You watched with Sonic."

Elis' memory was quickly boosted. "Yeah, I remember now. You said you'd train me to be a Freedom Fighter..."

"And I made good on that promise, I hope," Blaze added smugly. "Because it's all about to be tested..."

Before Elis could ask, Blaze nodded at Jim, who switched the main lights off. A split second after this happened, the focus of all spotlights fell to the wrestling ring in the middle. Blaze threw off her robe to reveal a pair of shorts and a skin-tight T-Shirt before effortless jumping over the barriers and onto the ring.

"Come on," she said, sounding almost confused. "Robe off."

It took Elis a lot longer to climb onto the ring, where he threw off his robe to reveal the same costume. They both took off their shoes and hasitly pulled on kick-boxing versions.

"So," Elis inquired. "What are we learning today?"

"The most important lesson of all," said Blaze. "Your final exam."

Blaze shifted her weight downwards into her feet and spread her legs out evenly. Elis, taking it as an order, did the same.

"Well, this is new," Elis said, poorly acting like he was calm. "Question One?"

"Question One," Blaze said casually. "Is..."

Blaze swung her fist towards Elis' face, and he swiftly blocked it with his palm, as she was shouting "HOW DO YOU DEFEND?!"

Elis pushed her back, careful he didn't hurt her in any way. Blaze, as she normally did, noticed. "Call that a defensive throw? I've seen better throws from my four year old nephew!"

Blaze did the same, this time with her other fist. Elis threw her off, as he did last time, this time three times as powerful, actually sending her to the other end of the ring, to even his own surprise, but he learned from his training never to admit it. Blaze then span around quickly, attempting a kick to the chest. Elis used the palms of both hands to block this attack, grabbing her foot and throwing it back where he came.

"God," she taunted evilly. "Aren't you even going to try and attack?!"

Elis did, first swinging with his left, his right. Both were grabbed in perfect timing, and where both threw where they came, sending Elis all the way to the barrier. Thoughts of sheer panic were screaming into his brain as the elastic ropes pushed him down and back into what was surely his place of death. He attempted his foot, which simply make his face hit the floor a second time, this time feeling the thump of the landing harass the right side of his face.

"It's not a bloody dance!" Blaze shouted, throwing a punch back which Elis missed by less than an inch.

Elis had an idea. "Here goes nothing," he whispered to himself, as, while dodging a jump-kick from Blaze, Elis jabbed her face, Blaze only just managing to stay on her feet. He then punched her: face left, face right, stomach forward. It was the kick to the stomach at the end that sent her to the floor.

Blaze struggled to sit up to a position where she could regain her breath. "Well," she panted. "I guess you haven't learned nothing... I guess I should give you next lesson now..."

She got to her feet, and Elis followed her from behind. Before he could ask what, Elis lost his footing, obviously the result of Blaze's leg gliding under his (a move mastered in earlier training sessions), as Elis' left side hit the floor and felt the pain of his right.

"Never trust your enemy."

Elis groaned in response.

As if it knew Blaze had just finished 'training', a ringtone yelled from her gym bag. She jogged towards the gym bag, and hastily pulled out her smart-phone. Looking at the contact, she answered...

"Yes?"

"Blaze," a familiar voice. Nicole's, to be precise. "Protocol Blur is online."

"I'll be there in ten minutes."

Dr. Miles Prower was born and bred from the streets of Mobotropolis, both New and Old, but recently, he never had such a powerful perspective of the city.

Sure, it was illegal for someone to stand on the top of a Church roof the way he was, just about fitting a part of both feet onto a concrete cross on the top. That was, illegal for anyone but a Freedom Fighter. With such a rank, he could do anything, be anything. So the highest places is where he spent his free time, and so he felt like the man who stood tallest.

He doesn't blame anyone for finding it strange. He didn't look innocent. A tall Mobian Fox in a pair of jeans, a trenchcoat and pair of huge Dr. Martens boots hardly looked innocent, especially when he's concealing weapons, and looking down using binoculars.

He knew his prey would be around an alleyway on Twelfth Street. This viewpoint was useful, for, after all, a predator must see his prey if he is to strike with perfect timing. And there they were. All five of them. Four thugs, probably hired by the Destructix.

The reason for his beliefs? Fiona Fox, one of the Destructix's finest agents and in fact one of its leaders, was there. Dr. Prower often tangled with the Destructix, but the fact that it was Fiona had made it personal. Miles, when he was younger, was lured towards her good looks and the fact that she was of the same race of his. Now she has turned on everyone and everything he believed in. It made him sick thinking of it.

Stop thinking of that, he begs himself. It's time.

And downwards he floats using his two tails as propellers to slow his fall. This was as far as he was willing to take his tails these days. Everyone still calls him "Tails", but fortunately no longer mention the fact that he "flies with his arse". He doesn't want these facts to change for the worse.

From the building on the Eastern side of the alleyway, he could see the entire situation without binoculars, and hear it, too.

It seemed that the thugs were loading money into an armoured van. It seemed that every sack was completely full of hundred pound notes.* When one thug dropped a bag, Fiona flipped. Miles almost felt sorry for him.

She grabbed the thug by the throat. "Careful with the freaking money, or you won't get any!"

The thug smiled and nodded obediently. "No problem, boss," before being thrown to the floor.

This was his time to strike. Miles jumped down, using the thug on the floor as a cushion.

"Dear God!" the rather unfortunate thug screams. "It's the angel of death!"

This only forced Miles to punch his sorry face, causing an inconvenient amount of blood painting a puddle in the alley dark red. Dr. Prower got to his feet. "Who's next?"

Every thug charged at him at once. Miles dodged only one of them, who, while running, received a rather inconvenient hit from a Bowie Knife to the throat, causing him to fall over and trip up another thug, who received the bullet from a silenced Desert Eagle to the back of the head. The last thug attempted to take Miles out by surprise, by grabbing him from behind...this only made the tug's situation worse, and only received a kick to the groin and a punctured lung from the same Bowie Knife that killed the first thug.

Fiona simply stood there and looked at her bloodstained ex-ally. "Well, well," she said smugly. "That's hardly a Tails I remember."

Tails didn't feel very nostalgic. "Why are you supporting Egg-head all of a sudden?"

Both looked aound confirmingly. All the thugs were wearing jackets with a familiar logo on it. The evil red smile of Eggman Industries, although some were hard to see under the red blood.

"You'll only know when it's much too late," Fiona sighed lightly, before the back of her head was thrown into a brick wall. Tails had her by the front of her leather jacket.

"Enough of your crap! You worked for Scourge..." Miles' confusion turned into fury when he bared his teeth. "What, you betrayed him too?" And the fury evolved into blind rage when he punched her in the face. "Betrayed him..." Punch. "Like you you betrayed us?" Punch. "And me?"

"A storm is coming, Tails."

Punch-punch-punch.

He probably would have continued punching if his phone didn't ring. He used one hand to pick it up. His punching hand. The other kept Fiona tight in his grip. He looked at the contact that was calling him, and reluctantly dropped her.

Fiona started breathing heavily and repeatedly gasping "Oh, God," as Tails just listened to the message: "Miles, Protocol Blur has been activated."

Tails said boldly: "Nicole, I'm on my way."

He hung up, and looked behind. Fiona was too weak to move. A small kick to the head soon sent her unconsious. He used a pair of handcuffs he kept in his pocket, clamping her body to the nearest lamppost.

"Let's hope the FFA finds you," he murmured. "Before your boss does."

AUTHOR'S NOTES

*Yes, pounds have become the Mobian currency. Why? No idea. Probably because they needed a higher value currency...