After the "double-date" with the abrupt ending, my friends and I were playing my game together again. This time, though, I went first, playing as Horns the Owl, until Sticks was next, in which I taught her how to play as Bonnie Bones considering how she never played with electronics before.

"So what does this button do?" The badger asked, pointing at the X button.

"Press the X button, and you'll perform a special attack," I replied. "In this case, Bonnie will throw her boomerang that will gather hard-to-reach items."

Sticks obeyed and fulfilled the said task. "Now I am wondering if those characters are absolutely being mind-controlled by this strange contraption I am holding! But why don't they move without us?"

"That's the point of video games. You control to win."

"Maybe we can go out, and find those warriors who we will teach how to move by themselves."

My eyes narrowed. "Oh, brother."

After playtime, I was simply using my laptop to look up my latest e-mails. Most of them were pretty much praises for my game, but the very latest one, entitled "I am back, fox boy!" appeared to be suspicious, and not in a very good way. I read it anyway, and it turned out that it was like a death threat:

"Found you at last. Remember me, Miles Prowler? At school, I used to be the most glorious of them all until you found a way to take everything from me. First, I'll make the world wide web a living nightmare for you. Then, worse things in real life will happen to you soon. Sincerely, the creator of Fastor."

While the letter was a little vague, my heart already started pounding like a bass drum. Who was the "creator of Fastor" sending me this potentially threatening letter? It was likely that I've forgotten about someone and something long ago...

On the following day, I tried to get my mind off the letter by simply chatting with Zooey on my computer. You know what they say, "ignorance is bliss," well, most of the time.

"Hello, Tails! How have you been?" She typed.

"Fine, thank you," I typed back.

This time, she asked for a second date, in which she was to decide the next place. "On our last meeting, you picked our place, which was The Secret Splendor Smokewood. Perhaps we can plan another date for sometime later? This time, however, it's my turn to choose where we want to go."

"What place would you like to go to?"

"Not sure right now, but it'll come to me." Her response ended with a winking emoticon.

"Take as much time as you need, Zooey!" I replied with a smiley face.

Right after the online conversation, suddenly came back the creator of "Fastor," sending me another message, more detailed than the first:

"I'm back again, Fox Boy! Just to let you know, I'll be able to hack into your account on Talk-a-Lot in the next six hours. You know why I'm doing this? Because malformed freaks like you don't deserve to have friends or especially a girlfriend, even if you work hard! Either you're equal, or you're not, but don't take it from me, look at yourself at the mirror. Those two tails of yours have always look so ugly. First phase currently in progress."

Call me "Fox Boy," would you? Now that I thought about it, that familiar insult brought back a glimpse of a traumatic memory bounced back before my eyes. I won't tell you the name or reveal the bully's past actions towards me right now, but I can say that the childhood enemy had done terrible things to me, beyond typical harassment. Anyway, out of considerable anger, I wanted to reply back with some nasty words. Unfortunately, when I clicked on the reply box, this was when I realized that the bully "blocked" me from saying anything in return. If anything, though, I had to be on the lookout for any upcoming damage to my virtual property.

Indeed had the person performed the first phase in the next six hours. First, it was hacking into my account and defacing my drawings, specifically the characters from my game, into twisted, obscene goth stereotypes. At first sight, I couldn't believe my eyes, but then, I instantly realized how bad this all was. For instance, poor Scion not only had his clothes changed, but he also turned bone-thin and pale, and got covered in chains, bandages, and blood. The others received the same treatment, with their body shapes and clothes gruesomely changed. As a result, many of my fans were shocked and started to question me on why "I" did this.

"Dude, how could you ruin your drawings like this?" asked one of them.

"Are you trying to betray us or something?" asked another.

"If this is some kind of sick joke, I'm not laughing." asked the third.

In response, I apologized for this incident and informed them about a bully hacking into my account. They partially trusted me, but they couldn't figure out who was destroying my works. Thankfully, I had the unharmed drawings stored in a folder, so I deleted the recolors and posted back the originals. Nonetheless, even so, I was scarred for what that cyberbully did to my drawings, so I stayed extra alert for what might come next.

Now, to gain a little more depth to this story, I managed to interview a couple of people, in Amy's house. First, I met with Dave the Intern, who told me everything he saw about what the bully did. Then, it was Eggman, who told me how he himself worked with the troublemaker, only to regret doing so, despite managing to get his revenge on me. To remember what each told me, I wrote their stories in a journal.

According the Dave's interview, that bully, in person and wearing a bulky robot mascot, came to the game store in Village Center, boycotting my game by holding an obscene sign, one against hybrid animals.

"Whatever you do, do not tell the cops!" the "robot" hollered, with a gruff voice and a Texan accent. "Y'all just gotta join my non-violent campaign against unethically mixed breeds."

"As much as he comes up with a debatable topic, that is one brash robot we're looking at," pointed out Dave.

"Yeah," added a glasses-wearing desert rat named Charlie, "Brasher than mine."

"I ain't brash! I'm just here to warn ya not to buy Blades of the Rebellion! It's got hybrids, like a wolf dog and a grolar bear, and those species are known to suffer from tons of 'genetic defects' due to their 'incomplete DNA!' Buyin' the game will only support the inhumane breeding of mismatchin' animals even further!"

"Dude, it's just a game," responded Dave. "Just because you don't like it doesn't mean we don't. Now 'beep' off, or as Dave the Invincible, I'll summon my minions to take disassemble you."

"Ya liar! You ain't no villain, even though ya say y'are! And beaver, your braces prove my point!"

"I am a nutria."

Suddenly, the manager from the shop arrived. "What's with all the ruckus?"

"This guy," answered both Dave and Charlie, pointing at the troublemaker.

"Hey, Mr. Robot, we'd like you to kindly move along and not harass the customers. Perhaps you can discuss this 'controversial' topic in a more appropriate place."

"Traitor!" Offended, the bully blinded the shopkeeper with a large can of pepper spray from the suit's right sleeve.

"AI-I-I-E! THAT STINGS! I've got myself some spicy eyes!" he screamed out of agony, while holding his swelled-up eyes. "Just what the heck is wrong with you, anyway!? Security!"

As a surprise, Knuckles (wearing his badge for the second time) arrived from the game store, pointing at himself narcissistically. "I serve as the guard here as well." Then, he pounced on and punched the "robot" in the face multiple times. He shouted with one punch per word, "No! Spraying! My! Boss! At! Any! (punches heavier) TIME!"

"Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow, ow, OW!" the bully screamed in sync.

Meanwhile, near a large junkyard, Eggman along with his two robots, Orbot, red and cube-headed, and Cubot, yellow and sphere-shaped, were taking a very slow stroll, still moping over what happened between us. "I'm beginning to think that this was all a big mistake," he weeped.

Orbot informed, "Blades of the Rebellion is back in stock now."

The doctor stopped sniveling and decided to use reverse psychology. "Big deal! After some thinking, I have no more interest in getting Tails' garbage of a game, especially now that its price had gone up! And if I ever see that treacherous little fox again, I'll make sure to give a piece of my mind for sure!"

"How long have you've been hold that grudge of yours?" asked Cubot, scratching his head.

"A long, long time since the incident."

"Furthermore, why didn't you attack Sonic and Tails in the first place?"

The doc took a deep breath. "First off, I realized that bringing my robots can get old real fast, since Sonic and his friends always beat them at the end. Secondly, I admit that I have, or had a deep passion of the game's core concept; I once considered Amoroso to be my favorite idol. She had that Fuzzy Puppy-like feel to the point of pure...furriness!"

"She did look adorable in that trailer," admitted Orbot. "Though I would have to say that Nucleus the viking is my most favorite. He's such one ripped bear."

"Therefore, I felt like it would dishonorable to annihilate someone who worked so hard on that game and its particular aspects. Just imagine, without him around, there would be no more triple A indies from him!"

"And then you cried like a 2-year-old just because you didn't get the game in the first place."

"I'm over it now! If that little weasel shows up, he'll somehow pay for betraying me! First, I'll find whatever here is useful in this dump. I'm on a budget now, ever since I donated to that stupid fundraiser."

Sometime later, after getting banned from the game store, the bully in the now-battered robot suit wobbled to the junkyard, which apparently turned out to be a "home." "Curse that Game 'N' Play, curse that manager, curse that security guard who beat me up like I was a punching bag, curse everyone!" Suddenly, the troublemaker saw Eggman and his robots walking through the yard and then brought with a broken baseball bat, ready for a good beating. "Hey! What are ya nerds doing here in my yard!? Y'all better get outta here, NOW!"

"Oh, no," Eggman responded. "we're just here to...get a few spare parts for my robots! Not planning to stay here for long!"

"Ya better get out, BEFORE I MASH YA INTO MUSH!"

"Whoa, WHOA! JUST TAKE IT EASY THERE!" the doctor screamed, while quickly stepping back.

The bully slightly calmed down. "Answer this question, then! Do ya play Blades of the Rebellion? Because if ya do, then you're a DIPWAD GAMER. A DIPWAD GAMER who is on my list."

"I don't play it, so of course I'm not a dipwad gamer!"

"Good, because I've got something to show ya. I am not asking, by the way."

Dr. Eggman and the robot duo obeyed and followed the big "robot" to a ruined school bus, which served as a bedroom. Once inside, the bully steadily took off the robot costume and revealed herself as an enormous, big-boned, dark brown, striped-shirt-wearing female raccoon dog with messy fur full of scars, wounds and some burnt areas. Moreover, her teeth were yellow and crooked, her left arm had a broken heart tattoo, her claws were uneven and dulled, and her body odor was even worse than the smell of a skunk. Furthermore, her tail was covered in bandages.

Cubot gasped, "That huge hobo is a girl?"

"Yet, she looks more like a tough man, and sounds like one," added Orbot.

"The name is Terra the Terrible, or just "Terra" for short," said the tanuki. "Does that ring a bell?"

"Actually, it does," responded the surprised doctor. "I've heard rumors that you're one of the most secretive criminals in Bygone Island, perhaps the most dangerous even."

Terra continued, "It didn't have to be that way. Back at school, I used to be a popular game developer who earned lots of money all for my various kinds of satire. With all that money, I had the potential to buy a new house and get away from my stupid parents! As you can see, my current lifestyle is all thanks to one freak fox who ruined my life to the extreme. With his metal junk and his slop of a game, he had ridiculed me and then had everyone defriend me online, thanks to the help his puny freak friends. Worst of all, my parents kicked me out of my old home once they knew all of my activities as exposed by the school newspaper!"

"You're telling me, raccoon boy- I mean, girl, this place is a dump! Just how do you manage to survive like this?"

"I chow down disposed food in this area and use the old computer, which is all I have left from my ex-home." The tanuki brought her ancient scallop-shaped laptop, refurbished with parts taken from the yard. On the screen was a "fast-paced" bootleg-like game, called 'The Fast and the Fastor.' "Behold, the ultimate platformer!"

Like my game, Terra's was inspired by the older game (with the running, rolling, and ring-collecting) I mentioned earlier. However, as I mentioned earlier, it was far cruder, for various reasons.

"Looks like your game's got a heap of satire and stolen assets from various other games," Dr. Eggman pointed out with a smile. "It's diabolical, just like who I am and what I do! Of course, the background looks poorly-organized right now, and the presentation leaves a lot to be desired, but nothing some fine-tuning can't fix."

"Hey, old man, I have experience with makin' games. I'm also free to make it the way I want it to be. However, I still need your help advertisin' this, so that I can make money out of this here game of mine, in order to buy a new home, and get my revenge on my Tails Prowler. It's been more than 10 years since I've lived in this literal dump."

Egghead laid his chin on his left hand, thinking. "Hmm, so you too want to teach that wretched two-tailed fox a lesson? You know, you'll need more than advertisment. Much more. Tell you what, I'll offer you a stay in my lair, in exchange of a free copy of The Fast and the Fastor, and you as a full-time MINION. There, we'll be working together. But once you make enough money to get a new house, and also give Tails what he deserves, you'll be out of MY house! Fair enough?"

"Deal." And the two shook hands and laughed evilly.