As per their luck, it was raining. Rainclouds had drifted in overnight, and by morning it was coming down in sheets of water. The pavements were empty, the Moebian population preferring to move by car or other means of transport, rather than brave the concrete with their own two feet. Another thing, Tails noticed, that was different about Moebius. The clouds were blacker, not through pollution or any artificial means, but it was a trait of the world. The clouds darkened the skies, made it seem as if it were already the evening once again.

Fiona and Tails studiously avoided meeting each other's eye after the previous night, still embarrassed in their own way by the turn of events. The vixen's thought still lingered on the fox-boy though, trying to recall everything about him. Similarly, Tails found himself unable to avoid his mind recalling that night, going over everything he remembered…Why? Why should he be thinking this way? What was wrong with him?

He busied himself working things through with the others.

"We're going to need transport." He told them.

"Agreed." Telera added. She had not yet told anyone of what she had overheard.

"I could get us some easily, but I only want one vehicle, and we need one that can deal with rough terrain."

"A helicopter?" Sonic suggested.

"No." Lupin growled immediately. "No heights."

"Oh, wolf-man doesn't like flying?" the hedgehog joked.

"I'm a wolf. I don't like heights full-stop, Sonic. Mine's a racial trait, not hydrophobia."

"Hey! I can't swim!"

"And I can't fly. See my point?" the wolf had the advantage. "If things go pear-shaped, you can teleport out of there. So can Tails. That leaves us four with a little bit of a problem."

"He's got a point, Lupin." Argued Fiona, "a helicopter doesn't have to deal with all the trees."

"And give the real Miles such a concise way to take us out of the air? I doubt Miles has any military installations around here, so any chopper we actually get access to is going to be civilian, and easy pickings for even the most basic anti-air." Lupin smiled.

"How long do we have, buddy?" Sonic cut across the argument.

"About a week."

"Why don't we just walk, or run? If we don't we'll just spend all day arguing. Come on, we're never gonna get Amy back if we just sit here arguing!"

"Do we really even want her back?" Lupin again, his voice spiteful.

"What?" Sonic was incredulous.

"How can you say that you really like having her around, hmm?" he hunched his cloak over himself, "she breaks things, she ruins plans. She's obsessed with you." One claw reached out to point at the hedgehog, "She's imbecilic, she's clumsy, she's a waste of space. I don't understand how you all manage to tolerate her. I can't."

"It's no reason to abandon her." Sonic argued. It was a tough position – for the most part, Lupin was right, but it went against his nature. "Just because she's got her own problems, doesn't mean we should just give up."

"And why not? I don't see what she's ever done to deserve to stay."

"She hasn't! Alright! There you go, but I'm not giving up just on your say-so."

"Ah, yes." Lupin absorbed the blow. "My say-so. Would you do so were Tails to take my standpoint, or your wife? Would you be saying the same if it were Sally instead of me saying this?"

Sonic stopped in his tracks.

"He would." Sally answered for him. "Because he knows who his friends are. It's not just about usefulness, Lupin. Don't pretend that it is. At least Amy is friendly. She doesn't cut herself from the rest of us for days on end."

Lupin smiled humourlessly in return. "It appears that we have different priorities, princess. Very well then; If I must be a part of this then I want to know how we are to go about it."

"We walk, then." Tails decided. "We'll have to move hard and fast, but we can make it if we move, and soon. Unfortunately…" he turned his gaze to the window, "it isn't going to be a pleasant way of travelling. I have rings to supply us with food and water, but nothing against the weather."
"I think we can take a little rain, Tails." Fiona said with confidence.

"You sure?"

"Come on, it's water."

"Then it's settled, but we'll wait a bit for today. It can't get any worse, but we should see if it lightens up a little. Travelling is harder the harder the weather is."

"Good point."


"What are you?"

"A servant."

"Why are you alive?"

"To complete my purpose."

"And what is your purpose?"

"To preserve yours."

"How will you do this?"

By making it my own."

"Who are you?"

"The tool."


Travelling was, as predicted, slow, messy, and otherwise generally unpleasant. An hour or so later the rain had eased off a little to become a light shower, but the damage was done. The ground was soaked, fur absorbed water off grass and trunks dripped water instead of offering shelter. Wherever grass didn't grow the dirt had turned to claggy mud, clinging to the Mobians as they trudged through it. Often they paused to shake themselves free of mud and water, muttering curses almost every step of the way.

When they stopped to rest and eat, moods were lower than they had been in the morning. The group lowered themselves onto tree roots and low branches, slightly less wet than the ground itself. Fiona dropped down next to Tails, watching as he ripped off blades of grass with one hand, dropping them through the ring as it hovered in the air, various edible bits and pieces falling into his hand.

"Maybe not the best choice I made." The vixen admitted.

"We all make bad choices." Tails kept his voice indifferent.

"You got about the best we could for the weather, though."

"It might get better, I don't know."

"What're we going to do about lodgings?"

"There's a facility, or a village or something that we should reach by the time the sun is meant to go down, I can't tell – don't know how to read Moebian. As long as Miles isn't there when we show up, we won't encounter any difficulty."

"And we don't know if he is there?"

"I won't be able to tell unless I get eyes on him. I can tell the difference between two chaos adepts, maybe between two people from our dimension with a bit of a push, but all Anarchy adepts feel the same in my sense. I'm not meant to be able to detect Anarchy energy. The only reason I can is that according to our laws, they aren't meant to be here."

"What do you mean?"

"Chaos sense is designed for our universe, the Mobian universe. It sees anything that doesn't emit the standard chaos signature as an anomaly, thus everything that emits anarchy energy shows up as something that shouldn't be around. I can't tell anything more because I'm not meant to be able to."

"Then maybe I should check the place out, before we get too close?"

Tails glanced up at her, genuine worry on his face. "And let you get yourself that close to Miles alone?"

"If he's there. Besides, my rifle has about for different scopes on it. I'll be able to check the place out from a mile away, we just need to get that close. We need line of sight on him, but he doesn't need to see, or sense us."

"You know," he patted his knee knowingly, "times like that I could really kiss you Fiona. Sometimes I'm a complete idiot like that."

"Nothing stopping you." The words slipped out of her mouth before she could stop them, and her cheeks turned a vivid shade of pink.

He looked at her and almost smiled. "Don't worry, I'll preserve both our dignities. I'm not giving anyone else any cannon fodder, however much there is based behind it."

Fiona looked away into the trees, smiling at the thought of it, touching his lips to hers, for however brief a time. She wanted it more than she could say. Would a little embarrassment be all that problematic?


"Well, whatever it is, it's military. See the mountain? They built it into the side of the thing. Big concrete place with a couple of doorways. If Miles is there, I can't see him. My infra-scope isn't showing anything that looks like him, but I can't be sure."

"Good enough for me." Telera signed to anyone looking.

"Agreed." Lupin added his assent, "Living rough is nice sometimes, but this takes it a little far. Come on Miles, go do your acting." A few faces blinked at him at the use of Tails' name.

"He's staying in character." The fox defended. "Miles is my first name, after all. Now, come on, let's do this before night shows up."

Fiona began to writhe in her spot, trying to pull herself out from the spot in which she had wedge herself under a thick, bristly hedge. She felt a hand on her shoulder, helping her out, pulling her to her feet – it let go before she knew who. As she disassembled the rifle, they others ran through their own weaponry checks, in the event that they did have to fight their way in, or out.

Tails set off, slicing tree branches out of the way with deft strokes of his namesakes, the tips hardened by chaos energy. He cut a path for the others to follow, leaving a neat trail of destruction.

The others trudged through the mud behind him, some worried for his 'acting' and some surprised at his proficiency in the field.

The guards were not lax.

Heavy automatic weaponry spun up, trained on the fox as he broke cover from the trees, walking out towards the facility as if he had every right to be here. His eyes took in the cemented wall jutting out from the mountain base, and his voice rang out to the guards.

"Weapons down, or do I hire someone who can see for a change?" his voice, his tone, was unmistakable. Immediately, fearing retribution, the barrels were turned aside and set to cool, guards dusting off their uniforms, scrubbing dirty patches on boots or weapons in an attempt to look presentable before their master arrived.

He did, very quickly, and some were still frantically checking themselves over when he ascended the elevator, his team in tow.

"Did you not receive the message?" he asked, quite calmly, to the guard there to greet him.

"Message, sir?" the Moebian's voice was nothing but fear.

"I sent word ahead that I was going to be making a trip to this facility, and I arrive to find weapons trained on me. This doesn't speak well for communications, does it?"

The man began to reply.

Tails didn't let him – his hand latched out, catching the guard round the throat and lifting him into the air. He pulled him in close, and when he spoke, it was barely even a whisper. "Even consider firing on me again and I will have you killed in most painful way possible. Your life hangs by a thread, you only still live because I don't have a convenient replacement. Do you understand?"

The man nodded, slowly, choking for air. Tails released him and he crumpled to the deck. For a moment, the fox's eyes lingered on his hand. Had he really just done that? But gave away no emotion, no possibility that he might have regretted it. Then he was moving again, the guards stepping aside as fast as they could to allow him inside.

"You know why I don't kill them?

"No, not really."

"Because I'm not them; I don't want to sink to that level."

"They won't rise to yours."

"That's no reason."

Was that the real danger here? Was he in so much danger of becoming Miles, this violent, unpredictable doppelganger he worked against now?
He snapped his fingers, and the nearest soldier, guarding a door, ran over to him.

"We're not staying long. We're waiting the night and heading out in the morning. Supplies will be needed. Make sure they are ready."

"Yes sir." He hurried away without further comment.

Now they were alone, Tails gave further instructions.

"Spread out, see what this place is for. Lupin, Telera, you two together, Sally, you and Fiona come with me."

"Why me?" Sally was rightly confused. Shouldn't she go with Sonic?

"In this place, Miles is married to Alicia Acorn, or specifically, you, just using your middle name. I'm not asking for anything untoward, just that as long as we're seen together they won't suspect anything. Sonic, you just charge around the place. Scourge doesn't really care much for this sort of stuff, so try to avoid like you're actually inspecting the place."

"Got it." The hedgehog nodded, disappearing down the corridor in a rush of air and heat.

"Eager, isn't he?" Lupin taunted.

"He's trying to save someone. He's always like this."

"Always impetuous? Always ready to get himself killed?"

"What's wrong with you Lupin? Sonic doesn't get himself killed." Sally stabbed back. "You've got your job. Go do it."

Lupin stalked off into the facility without another word, not waiting for Telera as she sprinted after him. She caught up halfway down the hall and began to sign, but the wolf was not watching – it would do no good.

He opened the first door he came to, peering inside to the clean white surfaces of a laboratory. A few of the Moebian scientists working there glanced up, but none spoke. The guards had already made it aware that he had arrived with Miles.

He walked amongst them unmolested, the tigress holding a few steps behind.

Test tubes of green liquid.

Monitoring equipment.

Lupin stopped by one at random, tracing his fingers over it. He could smell the fear in the Moebians around him. Fear of the wolf himself, fear that he might damage their equipment, it was in their sweat, it hung in their air, a humidity painfully obvious to him but almost indistinct to everyone else…pathetic.

His claw scraped along the worktop, tracing a thin line, peeling the enamel from the surface. The screeching cut off anything one of the scientists may have said, until he spoke to one of them.

"What are you doing?" a simple enough question, and the Moebian he asked was relieved enough that he answered it.

"Alchemical changes affecting the Moebian body, strength or intelligence enhancement…that sort of thing. You-" he stopped himself.

"I what?" Lupin's manner was threatening, yet faintly amused. "I wouldn't understand it? Probably right. Maybe we could arrange to have one of those intelligence injections?" he laughed, rough and humourless.

"Would you?" the man's curiosity had been sparked. He may be inches from death, but as most scientists he was more curious than cautious.

"I think I might. Not today. I'll return if I decide that it is worth my time." He wheeled and left the room.

A hand took hold of his forearm and he moved to shake it off, but it was Telera. He let it slide…for now. His head titled down slightly to see her, see into her eyes. She didn't speak, she didn't sign, but she was worried. Worried for him. Why the hell should she be worried? He could take care of himself.


"This is more than your average research installation. Look – they have sensors here calibrated to register brain functions beyond the normal range…whatever they're looking for, it isn't the natural electrical signals a normal brain outputs."

"Tails, look at this." Their wandering had taken them into the lower levels of the facility, where the scientists and the guards seemed not to work. The place was deserted, and none of the three Mobians' sensitive ears had detected any sound that would imply movement.

Fiona walked with the Love Handgun out, tip down and using it to push open each door, covering each angle as she did so, as she had been trained. As Tails joined her at the latest door, she gestured with the gun to a leather operating table, electronic bands to hold the subject down.

"What were they doing?" Tails wondered aloud, stepping into the room, pupils widening to take in what little light there was. "They were experimenting on someone…that seat is prepared for an occupant of Mobian, or Moebian, shape and size. Looks like they were fond of testing sentient subjects. I want to know what that is."

Fiona followed his pointing finger to a contraption jutting from the ceiling. It looked as if a stalactite had been built there, wicked metal bolted and welded to the ceiling. Telescopic, it was half-extended towards the operating table, scores of operating instruments packed into the tip. Saws, knives, needles, injection tubes…

The vixen picked up one of the pieces of paper on an illuminated desk, turning it over and trying in vain to read whatever the owner had noted down. "I'm about as clueless with the writing as you are, but they've made diagrams of the brain. Take a look."

Tails looked away from the massive operating apparatus and took the leaflet from Fiona.

She was right, it showed a perfect schematic of the brain and stem, but there was something else.

Lines, like veins, fanning out over the brain tissue from various areas. It was definitely a brain…

"This isn't right." Tails showed the paper again to Fiona, pointing out bits and pieces of the pseudo-veins with his claws. "These aren't meant to be here. The brain doesn't have this sort of network, inside or out – I've seen dissections and partaken in one at one point. If a brain looked like this it would be the strangest tumour I've ever seen…"

"Should we take them with us?"

"Might be a plan. Do you have space in that suit?"

"I've got room."

He nodded. "Then get as much of this stuff as you can. If I can interpret the language back home, it might give us an advantage."

Fiona began to fold the sheets of notes and fold them into a compartment on her belt, inspecting each piece and either discarding it or stowing it depending on how useful it looked. Most of it went to the belt as the other two explored the room further.

The rest of the room proved to be like any other operating theatre, with portable gurneys with glinting tools laid out in orders on top, oxygen tanks and blood packs stored in cupboards on the lower half of each one.

A wide cupboard in the corner held four shelves of bottles, each with a different chemical or medical fluid in, once again infuriatingly labelled in the Moebian language. Tails spent minutes inspecting them, but once again he found himself drawn back to the giant piece of apparatus that hung ominously from the ceiling.

"You have to give it to the guy, he knows how to make things." Sally remarked, from next to him.

"Yes, but for what?"

"Well, it's for operating on people, what else?"

"Yes, I know that." Tails snapped with just a little impatience. "But Miles takes people apart, he doesn't put them back together. His men will have been running experiments in this place, or maybe even him personally, but I want to know why. Hopefully deciphering those papers I asked Fiona to get will yield some results."

They left the macabre room and its bizarre machinery behind, walking in silence down the darkened corridors to the next room. Tails pushed the door open and strode in, and stopped dead.

Limbs. Racks and racks of limbs, of all shapes and sizes.

Each one, preserved perfectly in aluminium tubes of green fluid, but once again that was not the only thing about them.

Almost all had been modified, chunks of flesh cut out and replaced by blinking, silvered bionics. Fine copper wire meshed together to make nerves, pistons for muscles…

So this was what he was doing.