A fretful whining in his ear alerted Antoine to the start of the day's shelling. He answered the call and rose from sleeping on his weapon. "Report?"

"Well, shelling has started. Thought you would want to know." The voice from down the comm was unrecognisable, but whoever it was would be on the upper tier. They were the first to see the shells rocket skyward on their arc over the walls. Shaking off the night lethargy and fatigue he stood in the early morning gold and looked out over the jungle. The artillery was far off – fighting wouldn't begin for a few hours yet. This was just causing fires, hoping to kill off a few more people and draw soldiers away from the walls. They never targeted the walls themselves, they would have to come in range of the guns to do so, and that would mean losing artillery.

He watched the burst and ignition of the rockets as they exited the barrels to arc skyward, then shook off the momentary distraction and flicked on his comm-link.

"Wake tze watch crews. Tze fighting will not begin for a while yet, but when it does, I want to know the moment tze bullets begin to fly. Comprend?"

"Yes sir." The soldier left the link, but Antoine could hear him begin to shout orders as fast as the shells were coming, to wake the necessary troops as an early warning system.

The coyote sat back down, disassembling and reassembling his Voltage rifle, inventorying his gear, anything to keep his mind off Bunnie. He couldn't afford to think of her now, not if he wanted to stay sane.

Sonic woke later than Antoine, having fallen asleep against the seat of one of the fire engines, to be now roused by the owner, wanting his engine back.

"Come on hedgehog, we've got more fires to fight." Sonic stared down, eyes half open, at the hare in the bright green suit trying to usher him out of the front of the vehicle.

"Come on, five more minutes!" he whined and turned over, away from this irritation. Then his comm beeped. "What is it?" he complained into it.

"It's Tails. Get up to the palace, now, Sonic. We need you to say some stuff into a microphone."

It was by far the strangest thing Tails had ever asked him to do. He'd asked him to run with experiments strapped to his back, to test the strength of Insert Gadget Here, he'd even asked him for advice on girls. He was asking him to talk this time. "Whad'ya need me to say, bud?"

"We need to win over the people, so if we get some footage of you and a little enthusiasm, it's to tip their minds in our favour. We don't want little cults to the separatists rising up around the city."

Sonic's ears and nose twitched experimentally, the acrid taste of smoke and smell and sound of things burning drifted through his senses. His first thought was to disregard it, another bomb strike. But there had been no detonation.

"Crap…I think it's already started Tails. Hold on, I gotta deal with this."

"Can't you let the police deal with it?"

"You trust them to sort this out?"

"No, I just don't trust you to sort this out." Tails replied, droll.

"You worry too much. Back in a flash!" Sonic slid out of the drive compartment, sprinting off down the road as his speed flashed up on the scale in moments, ash and dust kicked up from the rode as he ran, disappearing in a steadily expanding cloud of black dust.

Curling into a spindash, he drifted round a corner, chaos energy sparking around him as it fought to stop the speed ripping his skin off and leaving it on the road behind him. Out of the turn he hopped, back on his feet, spying the cloying cloud of smoke rising from yet another alleyway.

He turned his sprint into a jump, firing off the tarmac into the wall, bouncing off into the alley, taking it all in faster than the normal eye can follow.

About four young Mobians, holding various firelights, jerry cans and other flammable objects, throwing them animatedly at a fire built against the side of a wall. The wall itself, made from a combination of paste and brick, was beginning to bubble worryingly as Sonic joined the fray. Bits of plaster flaked off in the heat, melting and adhering to the tarmac as a thick, viscous fluid.

The first clue the vandals had that Sonic was there was when one of them felt him bounce of his back. The shock of impact was so he was unconscious before he hit the floor. Not dead – Sonic had been careful not to harden his spines, he wasn't looking to kill them, just take them out of action.

The ricochet from the strike carried Sonic onto another, so two were lying face-down before the blue hedgehog came to a stop, bouncing off the back of the second, up and back down in a steep arc. He could stop on a dime.

"Put the bottle down, pipsqueaks, and maybe I won't have to put you out like your friends." He articulated to the remaining two. One of them, very foolishly, took the moment of pause to throw a Molotov at the hedgehog who had just K.O'd two of his mates. Little more than a bottle of beer and a lit piece of paper, it shattered off the single-ring shield that burst up, the bottle fragmenting and snuffing out the flame before it could light. "Now now…" Sonic shook his head at them, smirking, "…That ain't going to get you anywhere. Come on, the authorities might be a bit nicer if you come in now, I'm sure you don't need reminding how fast I am."

As things played out, they turned and ran straight into the waiting arms of the MPD. Three Enforcers, having seen Sonic dart into the alleyway, had moved to the other side to prevent anyone trying to make a break for it. They didn't even need to use the truncheons – when the two adolescents saw the odds, they broke down, practically falling into their hands as Sonic snuffed the fire by forcing it into a fire-shield, then retrieving the two unconscious youths and dragging them out into the light, handing them over to the officers with a sigh and a word.

"Boring." He stated, leaving them to clean the place off as he spun on the spot, sprinting back towards the palace. The riot-fires and property damage was going to become commonplace in Mobotropolis if everything kept up as it was, and only a day or so into the actual battle…this was the first fire he had seen started by people in the city, the rest had been through virtue of artillery strikes. There were probably others, the city was a large place, and Sonic wasn't always the first for everything…just most things.

He skidded out onto one of the key roads that led from the gates half-way to the palace, and spent a few minutes dodging traffic and two hundred miles per hour, before speeding off onto smaller roads and avenues. The gate roads never led straight to the palace, precisely so in the case of invasion it would be harder for ground forces to reach that key objective. Sonic threw himself into a flurry of short dashes, punctuated constantly by short, sharp turns and twists, as he battled his way to the palace.

He skidded to a halt at the gates, the guards glancing at each other at his approach then near-throwing the gates open when he stopped, and he took yet another look at the Palace of Acorns. The mighty construct, rising a kilometre into the sky, a giant morass of towers, walkways and various other buildings, the whole thing was enclosed in a powerful shield generator, the emitters built into the surrounding wall and the generator, a synthetic chaos emerald courtesy of MilesCorp, far down in the sub-basement. Combined with the advanced security system and full complement of guards, it was a tough nut to crack. Sonic really hated it. He harboured an intense irritation for the king, Max's attempts to remove Sally from the monarchy because she was with him…the thought made him pause. Sally. The king despised Sonic because he said he was impetuous, ignorant in the extreme with no grasp of politics. Was that what Sally was now thinking? Yes, he didn't know politics, but he had always been going to leave that to her, ignorant and impetuous…he didn't think so, but how could you tell? If you were ignorant, you would be ignorant of your own ignorance…so it took someone looking at you, hearing and seeing you every day to tell you…shit. He was. Sally had been telling him the entire time. He swore vehemently, drawing the attention of the guards as he inwardly chided himself for lack of – well, brains. Even better, he probably didn't know what to say to try and convince Sally he had worked it out…he had said it all before!

Tossing with this new conundrum, he began his steady jog to the top of the palace, passing guards and sentries in rushes of colour. He slowed to a stop outside a large wooden door, the carving on it depicting the burying of the hatchet, the symbol of negotiation. His chaos sense was giving off multiple vibrations, some chaos and some normal…Tails was in there, and probably the king, too. Tipping open the door with one hand, he let his left eye survey the room. They were all looking at him…so embarrassing. Probably heard him coming, the sounds of a supersonic hedgehog running down a corridor is never the most discrete, he reflected, and opened the door fully. Alicia was watching him with unbound interest – it dawned on him that they had in fact never met. He had seen her once from a distance, it was bound to happen, he was dating her daughter after all, but they had never seen each other properly let alone talk.

There was a moment of awkwardness, with everyone staring at the blue hedgehog in their midst, before Tails gave him a slight, friendly wave, beckoning him over to the empty seat next to him.

"So, you're Sonic the hedgehog?" Alicia began, and Sonic was momentarily stunned. The voice was soft, yet powerful, quite like Sally – must have been where she got it.

"Yea, that's me."

"My daughter speaks well of you. If she does not speak in exaggerated terms, I do not think we can hope for a better suitor."

Sonic then decided now was not the best time to mention the frequent arguments that had erupted between them recently. "I don't think Max shares your optimism, ma'am." Playing it safe, neutral; keep the conversation away from his relationship.

"He sees himself as the only fit ruler for the kingdom. Do not mind him, unlike myself, his age has only served to compound it. It is not his choice alone who succeeds him, it falls to myself and my offspring also, and you have no need to worry." She knew exactly what to say – she was far more of a linguist than the king.

"Once gain I thank you for the hope, but if I'm gonna be straight with you, I'm really not sure about running the kingdom myself."

"Sorry to interrupt, but can we save the problem of succession until after they stop throwing rockets at us?" Tails cut in before Alicia could reply. "We didn't call Sonic here to discuss how things are going. I'm sure I can provide a far more detailed explanation later, if needs be."

"I- yes, of course." Alicia deferred to Tails.

"Sonic, you've probably spent your time fighting the fires, yes? Well, we can expect those not to abate any time soon, with the constant shelling. I'm not sure how much ammunition our separatist enemies have in stock, but I can assume they are not prepared for a long siege. They don't have the numbers, so whatever they are planning is going to involve them getting inside the city sometime during the fighting, and it will be soon. As we all know, the faster a war ends, the less men die in the fighting."

"I fail to see why I'm here." Sonic said during the pause.

"Because we need to make sure they can't get in. You've all seen the walls, the defences available. Even with this constant bombardment, do you really think they could breach those defences? Not from the outside. Whatever they do will come from inside the city, from some quarter. We already have motions in place to prevent the loss of our private defence contractors, thanks to our Minister of Citizenry, but our largest problem is that of the actual citizens. We can't buy all of them."

"Which is how we came to you, Sonic." Alicia took up the baton, "You have already saved the world twice, once on Angel Island, a second time in the skies over Knothole. The Mobians of Mobius have come to revere you as a hero, like it or not, and we can use that. If you are well known to be supporting us, public opinion will shift. Less will support the activists, more will support us, the less we will have to worry about public uprising."

"So…what you're saying is…you want me to show off?" Sonic's interest had peaked, and he was enjoying this more and more.

"Succinctly put. Shout of your catchphrases, make a big deal of things, be melodramatic." Tails elaborated, "Come on Sonic, we're giving you a chance to get in people's faces."

"Sounds like a done deal already, but won't I just annoy them? I'm already on the edge of being kicked out of the snowboarding competitions for being a chaos adept."

"Except this time you're helping them out, not competing against them. Sonic, I'm not exactly photogenic, I don't do this sort of stuff, and the rest of us aren't known for the saving the world lark, and if we can get Sally into the game as well, the world's fastest and the princess, side by side? Think about what people get from that."

Tails' voice dropped low, so only Sonic could hear. "And it might help you and Sally sort out the problems going on."

And so, three hours after the shelling began, so did the fighting. Just as before there was no sign of attack from the treeline until fire began to crack off the wall, and the defenders ducked and countered as they could.

Hartley fought all the harder, knowing that with the new promotion also came the responsibility and standards to uphold.

"You two!" he shouted to two members of his squad as they moved past, "find yourself a rocket launcher and eliminate the Hydra tanksss harassing us!"

A stroke of bad luck had made a squadron of enemy Hydra demolisher tanks move into his defence zone, and on the first level, things were taking a pounding. This level was where soldiers died, whilst other groups up on the higher levels took pot-shots at anything they could see. On level 1 it was the common soldiery, weapons raised in defiance to fend off the warriors emerging from the jungle – almost. The opposition seemed content at the treeline, most of the time, never moving forward to the walls. It was a stalemate when one side should be winning. That had to be changed.

Rising to standing, Retaliation rifle ready to fire – he hadn't had time to be equipped with anything better – and pulled off a couple of shots at targets that had made the mistake of standing just a little too far forward. He saw one clear headshot, the bullet puncturing the skull and exiting through the back. The second shot missed by a mark, smacking into the second target's shoulder, drawing blood and dropping him to the ground. Both were out of the fight as Hartley dropped out of the firing line, though only one would definitely not come back.

The soldier next to him thudded loudly against the concrete flagstones, two holes puncturing the chest, and a small trickle of blood began to worm its way through the cracks – another friend gone. It was emotionally crippling each time, but he couldn't afford to let himself grieve just yet, that would come later. He was a salamander, cold-blooded, branded a killer by natural selection. While his peculiar heritage gave him more 'warmth' than other reptilians, he still found himself able to call on this darker side, to descend into the role of a killer.
He rose again as fire abated, snapping off shots like a trained sniper, and another two went down, both head shots, before he was forced to take cover once again, firing raking the level. He was earning quite a reputation amongst enemy soldiers, he noticed.

A third time he rose, clicking off more shots, this time they saw him. A bullet scored his cheek, biting off a thin layer of scales and allowing a dribble of thin, watery blood to well up before he could take cover again. Another kill confirmed and another two wounded at least. From down the line he heard the whoosh of ignition as a rocket slashed from a recoilless launcher and streaked into the enemy ranks. Risking a moment over the top, he was allowed the pleasure of seeing it impact on the outside of one of the Hydra tanks, punching through the armour and detonating within. Hartley joined in the brief cheer, extended as a moment later another rocket burst from a different launcher, from above, detonating spectacularly in the track section of the tubular tank and listing it sideways. Buoyed by this string of victory, Hartley unclipped an EMP grenade from his belt, rose and tossed it with all his strength. Two seconds after he let go, the target tracker kicked in, then the manoeuvring thrusters, though he could not watch as it twisted mid-flight, homing in on a third Hydra. He heard the detonation of the EMP grenade then ignition of the ammunition stores, safety procedures within the loading system cooked by the grenade, and then the tank itself lit up like a bomb.

This unexpected turn of events became a retreat, the remaining tanks wheeling and tracking off into the jungle as the infantry fought a rear-guard, pursued by all manner of gunfire. It marked no end to the fighting, but it was done there, for now, until tomorrow.

One level up and about half a mile along, battle was still waged between the two factions, separatist and loyalist. The separatists had begun bringing up jetpacks, closing on the walls with blades and claws. Birds took flight as well, natural wings giving them their own lift.

As the aerial combatants closed the distance, Antoine switched to his blade, a well-balanced sabre he had honed his skills with for many years, flicking his Love handgun off his belt just for a little added bonus. The entire clip was HS rounds, giving him an edge against anyone to face him.
The first to actively try to engage the Mobian commander, a bird, squawking a battle cry, was silenced as an HS round pumped its way through his chest, the high-speed rounds punching a hole through both the armour plating and flesh. He dropped like a stone, momentum carrying him forward to bounce sickeningly off the grey concrete wall.

His companion used this momentary distraction to dive in through the firing port and onto the flagstones, his weapons, a common sabre and serrated knife held in a defensive stance. He was out of his league – Antoine was a master with the blade. He waited for his masked foe to move first, and they did so, impatient, and dove forward, bringing the blade up over their head as the knife was held back in a block. Antoine sidestepped, slicing out with his sword in a close-cut strike, slicing open their side as they stumbled past, and as he turned he completed the move, shifting his grip and burying his blade in between the wings. They spasmed slightly as the Mobian died, and then he fell to the floor as the Mobian general spun to combat fresh opponents as they dove in at him. Two more tried to silence him, but his blade granted them death's blessing, and his sword arm would not tire from such quick kills.

A fourth target landed, wielding a more eccentric vibro-scythe. The weapon vibrated so fast it looked still, but could cut through most common metals and non-metals. Antoine's blade was very much just another bit of metal. The general began a series of dodges, backing slowly away as his opponent advanced with the scythe spinning in a rough figure of eight, forcing the swordsman down the battlements. He couldn't get a strike in without his sword coming apart in his hands, sliced apart by the vibrating scythe, and he was fast running out of options. The other was a fraction too close for use of pistols, the time taken to draw would mean he would be upon Antoine.

Abruptly the scythe-wielder pulled up short, the blade stopping mid-spin, the man's eyes fixed on him. Their eyes met, and Antoine saw nothing short of terror, plain terror, at the pause. It took the coyote a moment to realise what, in fact, had occurred.

Clamped around the shaft of the scythe, just short of the blade, was the hand of a particularly carefully crafted bionic limb. The arm twisted, a motion a hand of flesh and blood could not replicate, and the pole was snapped cleanly in half with an echoing clang and a short flurry of multi-coloured sparks. For a moment the hand disappeared, dropping the broken scythe in the process, then Antoine understood.

A hand, presumably belonging to the same figure, tapped the man on the shoulder, and he turned, slowly, unable to conceal his gut-wrenching terror. The robotic hand cracked loudly across his jaw, snapping it along with the man's neck, Bunnie watching him land on the concrete with only a little remorse.

"Sorry ah'm late, sugah. Sal' and I only just got here." She offered to Antoine, as the other attempted to stifle his tears as he broke into a smile.
"Mon Cheri! But…I thought…" he petered out, Bunnie dragging him to the ground as fire began once more to rake their position. Though they were sitting under streams of bullets in the middle of a battle, he drank in her detail again. Examining her height, clothes, limbs…the bionic arms and legs, once thick and bulky, replaced with thinner, more refined yet stronger versions shaped more in the likeness of her original organic limbs. The limbs had been modified heavily, to incorporate jet boosters, sniper weapon systems along with various other combat modes, and each one was made of Megatal. The vibro-scythe had no chance against it.

"We ain't got time for that now, dear! Case you ain't noticed yet they're shooting at ya! Shoot back!" Bunnie berated him, jokingly. Spinning her cybernetic, a twin-barrelled sniper rifle unfolded from capsules on the sides, and she rose quickly, scouter flickering up and drawing beads on targets. Shots began to lose form the weapons, the recoil dampened by kinetic bleeders within the arm itself. Emboldened by her act, Antoine snatched up his Voltage rifle, and rose with her, targets sighted slower that the rabbit's, but no less accurate. The kills began to mount, repeating the method, fire, duck, reload, rise fire, duck, reload…until the light began to wane. As predicted, the enemy troops began their multi-staged retreat, the infantry providing a rear-guard for the tanks, little pinpricks of muzzle flash, spotting the forest surely as the night sky. Once again, the day was done, but the war was newly birthed, the fighting just begun. Antoine had been saved, emotionally as well as physically, and that was a victory for him.