Sonic Origins

by Ri2

How did Sonic get his super speed? What made Amy fall in love with him? How did the Chaotix become detectives? Why is Rouge both a secret agent and a gem thief? How did Cream and Big meet their pets? Silver the Hedgehog needs to know the answers to these questions, and far more, for the future might depend on it...

14. Fang's Western

And now, at last… The penultimate chapter of Sonic Origins, and the final origin of this story. Enjoy.

And to all my readers, happy new year!

Disclaimer: I don't own anything that doesn't belong to me.

…

The heroes reacted very swiftly to the sudden appearance of the dreaded Fang the Sniper in their midst.

Others, however, were swifter still.

"Hello, Fang," Alonzo said calmly, his mountainous shadow looming over the hybrid as he stood directly in front of Fang's bike, his sheer mass blocking everyone else from the mercenary's sight.

"Hey, Alonzo," Fang replied equally calmly, seemingly completely unperturbed by the half a dozen blades being held at his neck by the ninjas surrounding him. "How are things?"

"Pretty good, pretty good," the elephant said. "You?"

"About the same," Fang replied. "Been a while since I last saw you. That was in… Zanzibarland, right? Heh, that was a good op."

Alonzo narrowed his eyes slightly. "You and I remember Zanzibarland very differently."

The heroes relaxed a fraction. A very, very small fraction. "Huh. You know, I completely forgot that those guys were here," Knuckles commented.

"A sign they're doing their jobs properly," Rouge said approvingly.

Cream nodded, a relieved look crossing her face. "That's Alonso for you. So long as he's around, I know I have nothing to fear."

"We could all use an Alonso in our lives," Amy said wistfully.

"My own bodyguards could learn a thing or two from him," Blaze admitted, impressed.

"… Why do I feel vaguely inadequate?" Sonic complained.

Blaze chuckled. "Relax, beloved. You shall always be the bodyguard of my heart."

"Awww," most of the group cooed.

"Blech," Amy said in disgust.

"OH-MY-GOD. IT'S-FANG-THE-SNIPER," Omega squealed, or as close as he could to squealing. "DO-YOU-THINK-HE'LL-GIVE-ME-HIS-AUTOGRAPH?"

"Sure, I'd be happy to," Fang spoke up. "Big fan of your blog, by the way. Always nice to see someone who respects weapons as much as I do."

"… YOU-READ-MY-BLOG? !" Omega sort-of-squealed again.

Fang would have nodded, except that the blades at his throat would've sliced his trachea. "Sure. You might recognize me better by my handle Snipernosniping27."

"OH-MY-GOD. I-LOVE-YOUR-POSTS! I-DON'T-BELIEVE-IT! FANG-THE-SNIPER-HAS-BEEN-READING-MY-BLOG-AND-FAVORITING-MY-WORK! THIS-IS-THE-BEST-DAY-EVER!" Omega declared.

"It will be a good pretty good day for us too, as soon as Alonso there helps us take him in," Shadow said, not having moved from his position just in front of Cream, his gun still cocked even if he didn't think he was going to need it.

"Yeah, but not after we've roughed him up a bit first," Mighty snarled, pounding a fist into his hand.

Vector nodded. "Yeah, it's payback for everything he did to us!"

"Heh. Tough talk from a bunch of losers who couldn't beat me with a whole team," Fang chuckled in amusement. "You really think you can take me on now?"

"So long as Cream's bodyguards keep you from moving, yes," Espio said.

"Isn't that kind of cowardly?" Tails asked.

"I'm perfectly okay with that," Charmy said, thrusting his stinger threateningly at Fang.

"Well, unfortunately for all of you, that won't be happening," Fang said cheerfully. "Not only am I NOT going to prison, but in fact, these ninjas are going to remove their blades from my person and my old pal Alonso is going to back off."

"And why, precisely, would I do that?" Alonzo asked coldly.

"Bean? How are things on your end?" Fang said loudly.

"We're doing fine, boss! My love bomb and I have just finished placing the last of the charges, and Bark and Heavy should be done with their clown routine any minute now!" A manic voice crackled from a speaker on the dashboard of the Marvelous Queen.

The Chaotix (and Mighty) stiffened. "That's… Bean!" Espio gasped.

Rouge paled. "Oh no. Suddenly, I get the feeling things have gotten a lot more complicated."

"Just say the word, boss, and we'll blow the joint sky high! Kyahahahaha!" Fang's compatriot, the dreaded terrorist Bean the Dynamite, cackled insanely.

"Fang! What have you done?!" Shadow demanded furiously.

"My partners and frequent associates have rigged a nearby children's hospital that also doubles as a Chao garden AND kitten orphanage to explode," Fang said with a sinister grin. "Any of you lays a hand on me, or they don't hear from me regularly, and they'll blow the place up, killing thousands of poor helpless little sick kids, Chao, orphaned kittens, sick Chao, sick kittens, orphaned Chao, sick orphaned children, sick orphaned Chao, and sick orphaned kittens, and that's not even BEGINNING to calculate the collateral damage. Which is why I suggest, Alonzo, that you and your ninjas back. Off."

Cream gasped. "No… You wouldn't!"

"I wouldn't, sure," Fang agreed. "But my pals? Yeah, they totally would. They like blowing things up a little too much, in my opinion. Even blew everyone up at their wedding! That was a painful affair."

"Yeah, tell me about it," Vector muttered with a pained wince of recollection.

"You monster!" Amy shrieked, aghast.

"Meh, I've heard worse," Fang said dismissively.

"A nice threat, but you seem to forget that I don't actually care about anything other than doing my job, which is protecting Cream from scum like you. Why shouldn't I just let my associates kill you and damn the consequences?" Alonzo asked, calling Fang's bluff.

"You might not care… But Cream certainly does. Isn't that right, little girl?" Fang asked with cloying faux sweetness.

Cream clenched her fists for a moment. "… Alonso, let him go."

The elephant started. "What? But, miss Cream-"

"I said, LET HIM GO!" Cream snapped, startling everyone.

"…Did…did she just raise her voice in anger?!" Tails asked, stunned.

"I…didn't think she was capable," Amy stammered in disbelief.

"I don't know if I should be proud or alarmed," an impressed Shadow commented.

Rouge and Blaze both regarded the rabbit appraisingly. So, they both thought. She's developing the spine of a leader after all.

Alonso stared at the rabbit for a moment in surprise. When he saw the look in her eyes, he realized she was serious… And was reminded, perhaps for the first time, that Cream was the daughter of Vanilla the Rabbit, Donna of the Cottontail crime family, and heir to her legacy. There's more of your mother in you than I ever thought, he thought in amazement. "… Are you certain? This man, Cream, he's… He's more dangerous than you can possibly imagine."

"I'm aware of that, Alonzo," Cream said firmly. "But my decision stands. Let him go."

"If it's any help," Fang spoke up. "I have no intention of hurting the girl or anyone else here. Would you believe me if I told you my guns were unloaded?"

"No," Alonzo grunted. "And even if they were, we both know lack of ammunition doesn't mean anything to you."

Fang chuckled. "No, it doesn't. So? Aren't you going to do the girl says?"

Alonso gritted his teeth, but nodded at the ninjas, who reluctantly withdrew their blades and backed away. "Fine. But let me warn you Fang, if you even think of laying a finger on Cream, I'll-"

"Do absolutely nothing," Fang said dismissively, much to the elephant's rage. "The same to the rest of you, right?" He asked, glaring at the heroes.

Fuming, Shadow very reluctantly put his gun away. Even more reluctantly, Blaze put out the flame she been forming in her hand and psychically ordered her Biter to stand down. Everyone glared at the mercenary with looks of anger, dread, and in the case of the Chaotix, utter terror. "So, um, Fang, about what we said about beating you up a little…" Vector said nervously.

"Oh yeah, that. Still want to take a swing at me? Promise I won't have my boys blow up the hospital if you do," Fang said with a very insincere-looking smile.

"No, no, I'm good!" Vector said frantically.

"As am I," Espio said nervously.

"Please don't kill us," Charmy said meekly.

Fang snickered. "Yeah, that's about what I thought. Bunch of cowards, the lot of you. What about you, armadillo? Fancy a go?"

Mighty trembled with impotent fury. "I… No. No, that's… That's fine, thanks."

Fang sneered. "Strange, you seemed to have no problem with the idea of taking advantage of me when you thought I couldn't fight back."

"I wouldn't mind taking a swing," Knuckles spoke up.

"Neither would I," Shadow growled.

"Yeah, well, too bad. The offer was for the loser squad, not you," Fang said harshly.

"CAN-I-HAVE-THAT-AUTOGRAPH-NOW?" Omega asked hopefully.

"Sure thing," the weasel/wolf said cheerfully as the robot eagerly thrust a notepad at him. "Always good to meet someone who appreciates the smell of gun smoke and death as much as me."

"EEEEEEEEEEEEEEE. THIS-IS-THE-HAPPIEST-DAY-OF-MY-LIFE," Omega said gleefully as Fang scribbled on the notepad.

"I appreciate gun smoke and death…" Shadow muttered.

"Not as much they do," Rouge pointed out.

Shadow sighed. "Yeah, I guess so."

"What exactly do you want, Fang?" Sonic asked sharply. "You said you're not here to fight. Why ARE you here, then?"

Fang snorted. "Weren't you listening before? I said I wanted to tell a story, just like the rest of you blokes have been for the past couple of hours."

"Wait, you mean… You have an origin story you want to tell us?" Tails asked in surprise.

Fang nodded. "That's right! I'm here to tell everyone the story of how I came to be Fang the Sniper. What led me to change the name I was born with, and how I went from becoming a halfway decent bounty Hunter to one of the most dangerous men on the planet."

Rouge was intrigued by this. "Really? Because that's one of the biggest mysteries about you. One of the few things we haven't been able to uncover. Learning something like that would be… Filling a lot of holes."

"Why do you want to tell this story?" Shadow asked, suspicious. "Why now?"

"And why us?" Knuckles asked. "We don't even like you!"

"Or particularly care about all that," Silver grumbled.

"I-DO," Omega corrected him.

"Whatever," the time traveler grunted.

"Why am I doing this? Well… Let's just say it occurred to me that this was the right time for it. As for why that is, well, once you get to the end of my story, you'll understand," Fang said enigmatically. "As for why you… As I'm sure my new friend Omega here can tell you, a lot of eyes are on you right now thanks to his blog. And I want my story to be heard by as many ears as possible. After we're done with this chat, I have some very important business to take care of that I've been putting off for a very long time, and I want to make sure that, no matter what happens, people will remember me."

Blaze frowned. "It sounds as if you're not sure you're going to survive whatever this 'business' is."

"Oh, I'm very confident I will," Fang interjected. "But even so, I'd be a fool not to consider the possibility that I might not live past that point. Which is why I want my story to be known, no matter what happens next."

"You couldn't have just gone to the media?" Espio asked skeptically.

"I suppose I could have, sure," Fang admitted. "But I have a bit of… History with some of you, and if I do survive what's coming next, I want you to KNOW what sort of thing you're getting yourselves into should our paths ever cross again. Consider it a bit of fair warning."

"'Fair' isn't the kind of word I'd associate with you, Fang," Mighty said coldly.

"Oh, and ambushing me at my favorite bistro is fair and honorable and all that?" Fang shot back. "Still kind of pissed about that, by the way. That was a damn fine bistro."

"Yeah, it really is," Sonic agreed in fond reminiscence.

"So here's what we're going to do. I'm going to tell a story, and none of you are going to secretly call for law enforcement or anything when you think I'm not looking. I'm not really in the mood to get in a shootout right now," Fang stated.

"People are watching us right now, including law enforcement. What makes you think they aren't already on their way?" Tails asked.

"Because I rather doubt a good bot like Omega is stupid enough to always advertise where he's streaming from," Fang said bluntly. "Would make it easier for his enemies to find him."

"HE'S-RIGHT," Omega admitted. "I-USE-SCRAMBLERS-AND-DUMMY RELAYS TO-MAKE-SURE-I-CAN'T-BE-TRACED-EASILY. AS-FAR-AS-ANYONE-KNOWS, WE-ARE-IN-ONE-OF-THOUSANDS-OF-FIELDS-ALL-OVER-THE-WORLD. "

"What about the ambulance that came for Jet and the Rogues?" Amy pointed out. "Can't they backtrace us from there?"

"They probably could," Fang admitted. "Except, of course, that I've got hostages. Nobody but me knows where they are, which is why if any uninvited guests start showing up, there's going to be quite a lot of explosions in the near future."

"Heh-heh-heh-…explosions…boom, boom, BOOM!" Bean cackled insanely from the Marvelous Queen's dash.

"… I think you are the worst person I've ever met," Cream said coldly, again startling her friends.

"I've heard worse," Fang said dismissively. "Anyway, as I tell the story, I fully expect FYOO-CHURR Trunks over there to use his futuristic whatsits to project it for everyone to see. And no, I don't care that my history isn't something you were trying to find out about when you came back to this era. You're doing it anyway."

"And who says I have to?" Silver retorted. "I'm a time traveler. I can leave anytime I want, so I don't have to stay and take this if I don't want to."

"And sentence all those poor children and Chao and kids to die? Not very heroic of you," Fang sneered.

"Yeah, really, Silver! You can be kind of a jerk sometimes, but come on!" Knuckles said angrily.

"Mr. Silver, please don't let all those children and Chao and kittens get exploded!" Cream begged.

"Again, time traveler. Once I know which building your goons blew up, I can travel back to just before it happened and stop them before it's too late," Silver countered.

"Maybe so, except that you won't be able to do any time travel with a bullet in the head," Fang pointed out, drawing a gun and pointing it at Silver.

As everyone tensed, Silver scoffed. "Please, you already promised you weren't going to hurt any of us. And even if you change your mind, my psychic powers are so strong there's no way you could-"

Abruptly, Fang pointed his gun skyward and fired. Everyone jumped at the bang…

And Silver stiffened as something whizzed past him, grazing his quills and causing some hairs to fall off. He stood there, stunned. "That… That came from… Behind me… How…"

Fang holstered his gun. "Project my story like I told you to, and you'll find out." Silver gulped and nodded nervously.

"How did he do that?!" asked a disturbed Amy. "He shot up, but…"

"It would seem to defy several laws of ballistics," Tails agreed, both disturbed and intrigued.

"Don't we defy those things all the time?" Knuckles asked.

"That's physics. And this is different. I think," Sonic said, looking uncertain.

Shadow gaped. "Rouge, that technique…"

Rouge nodded. "Yes, but… There's no way he could… Could he?"

"IF-HE-DOES, THAT-JUST-MAKES-HIM-EVEN-COOLER-THAN-I-IMAGINED," Omega said eagerly.

"What are you talking about? What technique? Do you know how he did that?" Espio asked sharply.

"We… Might," Shadow said uneasily. "But I don't see how he could possibly know that, unless…"

"Unless what?!" Vector demanded frantically. Shadow and Rouge did not answer, making him even more anxious

"Wow, I am really glad that he didn't use guns when he fought us before," Charmy said with a shiver.

"Oh, I don't need a gun to do that trick. I can do something like with that just about any projectile, really," Fang bragged. "In my hands, anything is a lethal weapon!"

"Which would seem to further prove that he does know that technique," Rouge murmured, alarmed.

"Can you guys please stop being cryptic and tell us what you're talking about?!" Mighty demanded.

"No need, I'd be more than happy to explain for you," Fang said magnanimously.

"Good," Alonzo said, reminding everyone he was there. "I'd like to know how you did that trick as well. Oh, and Fang?"

"Yes?" Fang asked innocently.

"Don't you DARE draw that gun again in Miss Cream's presence, or I promise you, hostages or no hostages…" The elephant growled.

Fang smiled cheekily and completely ignored his threats. "So, let's get started. I'm sure most of my early life is already known by law enforcement and certain agencies. I was born Nack the Weasel to shitty parents along with my shitty twin sister Nicolette, and had a shitty childhood in a shitty neighborhood in a shitty city, where I made a lot of shitty choices that ultimately led to me becoming a not-so-shitty bounty Hunter and gun for hire. I wasn't the best, certainly not as good as my sister, who went to a similar line of work, but I was still pretty damn good if I do say so myself, good enough to be relatively more successful than most in my line of work.

"And then I ran into a certain blue hedgehog, and my life became shitty once again."

"Huh? What did I do?" Sonic asked, surprised.

"During the Triple Trouble fiasco, you and I clashed several times over Chaos Emeralds," Fang recalled. "I'd heard about you before, but figured that rumors of your speed and skill were just that, rumors, and was more than confident that I'd be able to take you on." He grimaced. "Just like everyone else who's underestimated you and lived to regret it, I was wrong. My skills and the upgrades that I'd made to my beautiful Marvelous Queen, which had helped me take down all sorts of targets over the years, were no match for you. Hell, I think most of Eggman's machines stood a better chance against you than I did."

"Oh. Well, um… You put up a good fight?" Sonic said awkwardly.

"Not good enough, unfortunately," Fang growled. "You trounced me so thoroughly that for months afterwards, I was haunted by your memory. I kept flinching whenever I saw a hint of blue, hallucinating you out of the corner of my eye, hearing that obnoxious 'You're too slow' everywhere I went. It was a nightmare! My performance suffered as a result, and my reputation went to the shitter. By the time I managed to recover my wits, it was too late, nobody would hire me or send me contracts, especially when my sister and that bitch she shacked up with were doing such a stellar job on their own."

"Way to go, Sonic, you gave him PTSD!" Charmy yelled.

"Not cool, dude. Not cool!" Knuckles agreed.

"Knuckles, do you even know what PTSD is?" Shadow asked wearily.

"… Um. It's the sort of disease you really don't want anywhere near your private parts?" Knuckles suggested hesitantly.

Rouge facepalmed. "That's STDs, Knuckles. PTSD is something totally different."

"Oh," the echidna said, embarrassed.

"Mister, Sonic, how could you? I thought you were better than that!" Cream yelled angrily.

Sonic cringed. "… Um. Oops?"

"Don't apologize for breaking the wills of your foes, beloved. I do it all the time. It brings me pleasure," Blaze said cheerfully. Sonic grimaced even more that.

"I tried all sorts of crazy stunts to try and get myself back on top. Reinvented myself a few times, tried out some ridiculous gimmicks. They all backfired and turned me into a laughingstock. Even my own sister stopped trying to kill me, because she complained that it was like I was already dead inside and it wouldn't be fun anymore," Fang lamented.

"… Your sister regularly tries to kill you?" Amy asked, disturbed.

"And I her. We have a bit of a complicated relationship," Fang said with a shrug. "We blame each other for happened to mom and dad."

"What happened to your parents?" Tails asked.

"You're better off not knowing," Fang said flatly.

"You really are, trust me on this," Shadow said with a grimace.

"And so, thanks to a certain blue hedgehog, I hit rock bottom. No job, no cash, and they even took my Marvelous Queen from me. All that was left for me to do was drown my sorrows in cheap alcohol and cheaper woman while I waited for all of the very nasty people whom I owed debts to to hunt me down and put a bullet through my head," Fang continued.

"… Okay, this is getting pretty dark," Charmy complained.

"And oddly reminiscent of our own life," Espio muttered.

Sonic cringed. "Oh geez. Fang, I… I never thought something like that would happen to you, I just-"

"Never gave me a second thought after you beat me?" Fang said accusingly. "Of course you did. Why would you? To you I was just another obstacle for you to blaze past on your way to adventure. Not like your actions can have a detrimental effect on the lives of the people around you, right? I wonder how many other guys like me's lives you've ruined…"

"In my defense, you were trying to kill me at the time," Sonic said defensively, feeling increasingly uncomfortable.

"True," Fang admitted. "I suppose it's not like I really have much of a leg to stand on. After all, if I'd beaten you, I wouldn't have spared you a second thought either. But then again, I'm not a hero, am I?" Sonic winced.

"Perhaps we should move on?" Shadow suggested, seeing how miserable Sonic was looking.

"YES, I-WANT-TO-KNOW-HOW-YOU-BECAME-SUCH-A-BADASS," Omega agreed.

"Right, the meat of my story," Fang said with a nod. "So there I was, down on my luck, drinking the last of my money away in some armpit's armpit of a bar, planning to put a round through my head after I was finished to deny my debtors the pleasure of doing it themselves, when someone entered my life that would change everything…"

…

No matter where you go in the world, cheap bars are always the same. The trappings and the location may change, but what lies beneath is always the same, a rottenness and filth born of despair and sorrow and bad liquor so deep nothing short of burning the place down would get rid of it, and even then, a new cheap bar would spring up to replace it, practically overnight. There will always be toughs and outlaws sitting at tables, bickering and brawling and playing cards or arm wrestling or what have you. Some of them might be playing billiards or table tennis or beer pong, if the bar had enough of the budget to afford such things. (This one didn't.) There will always be bad music playing, either piped through speakers or playing from a jukebox or being performed by a band so pathetic they can't even get gigs at weddings or a singer so desperate for work she's even willing to prostitute herself on the side to keep her kids off the streets. There will always be cheap paraphernalia hanging from the walls and ceiling, like fake pictures of celebrities who had visited, or animal heads, or objects of a nautical theme, or in this one's case, a stuffed alligator hanging from the ceiling. There will always be a bar, covered in grime and grunge and bloodstains, with an utterly apathetic barkeep always polishing the same dirty glasses with the same dirty cloth, racks and shelves of bottles full of booze so cheap it might as well be ditch water (in some cases, it actually was) covering the wall behind him. And there will always be someone sitting at that bar, drinking to try and forget whatever mistakes had landed him here, had ruined his life so thoroughly that this place, this shithole of a shithole, was the only place where someoneais wretched and miserable and woebegone as him could find even a moment's respite from his torment.

In this specific bar, in this specific time, that person was Nack.

"Gimme another one, barkeep," Nack slurred. Not because he actually wanted one, but because that's what the script called for.

"No more, kid. I'm cutting you off," the bartender grunted, not because he actually cared about the hybrid's safety but because this, too, was part of the script.

"Come on, man, you know I'm good for it," Nack pleaded pathetically, less out of desire than obligation to his current role.

He was not, in fact, good for it. Both of them knew that. But again, this was part of the script. The same script that was repeated over and over again, in identical bars all over the world.

"The answer is no," the barkeep repeated, as both of them knew he would.

"I'll pay for him," an unfamiliar voice spoke up as a few Rings clattered onto the countertop. "And a glass of water for me, thanks."

The barkeep wordlessly took his payment and promptly placed the requested drinks in front of the two patrons. Neither he nor Nack was in the least bit surprised by the stranger's appearance. This, too, was usually part of the script.

Nack took a sip of his drink. It was the absolute worst thing he'd ever tasted. He took a few more sips, and then turned to his new benefactor. "So, stranger, who do I have to thank for such generosity?" He asked, slowly reaching with his free hand for his gun. Now, who will this bloke be? He wondered. Friend, or foe? I do so hope it's foe. I'm tired of running.

The stranger, an old gray-haired terrier wearing a black coat and Stetson smiled at Nack, his thick mustache bristling. "Someone who's been waiting a long time to meet you… Nack the Weasel."

Probably foe, then, Nack thought, gripping the handle of his gun and slowly pulling it from his holster so that he could point it across his lap at the stranger. "I'm afraid you have me at a disadvantage, old-timer. You know me, but I don't know you. Somebody send you to finally collect the bounty on my head? Or I kill someone close to you, and you're out for revenge? Before bullets start flying, I wouldn't mind knowing why."

The terrier chuckled. "I'm afraid you're mistaken, Nack. I'm not here to kill you. Rather, I'm here to help you get your life back on track."

Nack didn't believe him for a second. "That so," he said skeptically. "Pardon me if I find that hard to believe. Unless you're a man with a massive amount of cash to pay all my debts, I don't see any possible way you could help me. Nor why you would help me, for that matter. I wasn't exactly the most popular person around even when I was at the top of my game."

"Money? No, but I can offer you something much better than that," the stranger said with a smile.

"Really," Nack said flatly.

"Really," the terrier insisted.

"And that would be…?" Nack pressed, slowly squeezing the trigger under the bar.

"Nack, would you believe me if I told you that I was the Gunslinger?" The terrier asked.

…

Shadow, Rouge, and Omega gasped. "The Gunslinger?!" Shadow cried.

"You MET him?!" Rouge demanded in disbelief.

"OH-MY-GOSH-I-AM-SO-ENVIOUS," Omega stated jealously.

"impossible! Assuming the Gunslinger's real, there's no way he would grace you with his presence!" Alonso said indignantly.

Everyone else exchanged confused looks. "Uh, who's the Gunslinger?" Sonic asked uncertainly.

"Someone who shoots guns?" Charmy suggested.

Espio rolled his eyes. "Other than the obvious."

"Was he in search of a Dark Tower?" Tails questioned jokingly. Almost everyone stared him. "Seriously? Am I the only one here who's read Stephen King?"

"Who?" Amy asked, answering that question. Tails sighed.

"THE-PERSON-WE'RE-TALKING-ABOUT-HAS-NOTHING-TO-DO-WITH-ANY-FICTIONAL-CHARACTERS-FROM-A-FANTASY-SERIES-WRITTEN-BY-AN-AWARD-WINNING-NOVELIST," Omega said firmly.

Shadow nodded. "The Gunslinger is a myth, a story, a whisper on the wind, a legend told by all those who follow the way of the bullet," the black hedgehog said reverently.

"So, he's completely and totally real?" Knuckles speculated.

Shadow grunted. "Basically, yeah."

"You know, it's really astounding we haven't run into that many legends and old stories that are actually fake," Vector commented.

"Just our luck, I suppose," Espio grunted.

"They say he came into being at the same time the first handgun was built, or even that he was born from the death of the first person to ever get killed by a gun," Alonzo explained. "Or even that he WAS the first to be killed by a gun, and so was brought back to wander the earth, dealing death just as it was dealt to him. He has been seen throughout history, taking a new form in each age, his purpose and motives as ever-changing as the wind. One day, he might save a town by killing all the bandits or evil threatening it. Another day, he might butcher a town down to the last horse and rat and an insect. All that is known for sure is that wherever he goes, death follows in his wake, wrapped around him as tenderly as a lover."

"That was kind of poetic," Mighty commented, impressed.

"I'm an elephant of many talents," the bodyguard preened.

"So, based on that description, I'm guessing either shape shifter, serial reincarnation, or a legacy character sort of thing," Sonic guessed.

Blaze nodded. "Any of those sounds plausible."

"It's the latter," Rouge confirmed. "My family has had many dealings with Gunslingers in the past, and rarely does each encounter end the same way twice. Sometimes they have hunted us. Sometimes they have been willing to help us, either because of money or some complicated moral code of their own. Sometimes they have simply ignored us. All that we know for sure is that there is a powerful magic around them even my kind have trouble comprehending, and that whoever bears the title is truly the greatest gunner of the age."

"And apparently, Fang—or rather, Nack, met him," Shadow said in disgust, envy clear on his face.

Vector whistled. "Wow. What would a guy like that want with him?"

"I was wondering the exact same thing," Fang said.

…

Nack stared at the terrier for long moment, and then snorted and drunk some more of his absolutely terrible drink. "Pull the other one, it's got bells on it."

"You don't believe me?" The old man asked mildly.

Nack laughed and slammed his glass onto the counter, causing a few drops to splash out onto the countertop, sizzling noises rising as they ate through the varnish. "Assuming the Gunslinger is real – – which I'm not saying he isn't, mind you – – what would a guy like that want with a guy like me?"

"Perhaps he wishes to train you," the terrier suggested calmly. "To pass on his techniques to another."

Nack scoffed. "Please. Everyone knows there can only be one Gunslinger at a time!"

"And where do you think the new ones come from when the current holder of the title is done?" The terrier asked.

Nack hesitated. "… Okay, fair point, but even if that's so, there's no way the Gunslinger would choose a failure like ME, a bloke that's lost everything, to be his disciple. And since there's no way he would ever pick me, that means you can't be the Gunslinger. Just an old man who was either pulling an angle, or he's senile enough to think he really is the greatest gunner in the world."

The old terrier was unsurprised by this. The Refusal of the Call was always how this began. Deep down, Nack knew this as well. "I suppose, then, a demonstration is in order. Something to prove that I am indeed who I say I am."

Nack smirked. "Everyone knows the Gunslinger has six impossible tricks, six things only he can do, that elevates him above all others who carry a gun. Pull that off, and maybe, just MAYBE, I'll be inclined to believe you."

And then, as if by a miracle, an opportunity to demonstrate these six legendary skills revealed itself. Neither Nack nor the old terrier were surprised by this. This was, after all, how the script went. "Hey! You! Old guy!" A very large, burly, stereotypically mean-looking bulldog in biker leather with spiked collars and wristbands and a bandanna wrapped around his head stormed over, a bunch of his cohorts, who'd entered the bar along with him, fanning out, growling and looking menacing. "You're in my seat!"

Nack and the terrier exchanged annoyed glances. While they'd known something like this was inevitable – – it was, as always, in the script – – did it always have to be so clichéd? "I don't see your name on it, son," the old Mobian said gruffly.

The Bulldog stabbed a thick finger at a small plaque on the side of the chair saying 'Reserved for Mad Dog.'

"I stand corrected," the terrier said, mildly surprised. He graciously stood up. "I don't suppose an apology will suffice?"

The bulldog snarled. "No. No, it won't."

The terrier sighed. "Figures." He glanced at Nack. "Young man, please remind me. What is the first of the six legendary tricks of the Gunslinger?"

"Hey, what are you talking to him for? I'm right here!" the bulldog growled. The terrier ignored him.

"The first trick: the ability to reload a gun instantly, so you can fire as many times as you want," Nack recalled.

The terrier nodded, and then, lightning quick, drew a gun. Instantly, the alarmed bulldog took a step back, and all of his friends quickly whipped out their own guns and pointed them at the terrier. A few of the other patrons did as well, not wanting to feel left out. "Hold on, now, nobody panic. This thing isn't even loaded, see?" The terrier said, sliding open the side to reveal that, indeed, his gun was unloaded.

Everyone in the bar relaxed. The bulldog burst into laughter. "Ha! What sort of idiot brings an unloaded gun to-"

He was interrupted when the terrier did a strange quick motion with his hand and squeezed his gun's trigger six times, plugging the bulldog right in the heart with each shot. The bulldog's jaw dropped, and he fell to his knees, and then onto his face, blood slowly oozing out from him. The bar patrons stared in disbelief, as did Nack, as the terrier repeated the motion and calmly opened the chamber again, revealing that the gun was now fully loaded. "That's one down," he said. "Five to go."

"H-he killed Mad Dog!" One of the Bulldog's friends shouted. "Get him!"

"Nack, remind me what the second trick is?" The terrier said, unbothered as once again everyone was pointing their guns at him.

Nack, who had immediately jumped onto the other side of the counter besides the crouched and irritated-looking barkeep, shouted, "To be so attuned to the way of the bullet that none can hit you!"

"Let's put that to the test, shall we?" The terrier asked as, simultaneously, every gun in the room opened fire, the air filled with smoke and the roar of gunfire as bullet after bullet crisscrossed the room, chewing up the furniture, the decorations, and breaking all the glasses on the back wall, causing Nack and the barkeep to flinch and cower under the counter as liquor and pieces of glass showered down on them.

After several cacophonic, frenzied seconds, the earsplitting sound of numerous continuous gunshots was replaced by frantic clicking as everyone shooting ran out of ammunition. Cautiously, Nack poked his head over the counter…

And saw that the old terrier was completely intact. There wasn't a single scratch or mark on him, and neither his coat nor hat had so much as a single bullet hole through them. This was in sharp contrast to the area directly behind him, which was absolutely riddled with holes, which should have been completely impossible since there's no way they could have gone that way unless they'd gone straight through him. "The third trick?" The terrier asked, taking advantage of everyone in the room's stunned disbelief.

"Th-the ability to turn any object in their hands into a lethal weapon," Nack stammered, thunderstruck.

"Right then," the terrier said, grabbing his glass – – which had somehow managed to avoid getting shattered – – swigged down what was left of it, then smashed it against what was left of Mad Dog's seat, his fingers shooting out and flicking the fragments of glass in the split second they were in the air, sending them shooting across the room in a series of vectors which embedded them in eyes, mouth, throats, noises, groins, and other inconvenient spots, causing over half a dozen of the patrons to collapse, dead before they hit the ground.

"Holy shit!" Someone shouted. It took a minute for Nack to realize it was him.

While some of the patrons did the smart thing and ran for the exits, others, too drunk to listen to their survival instincts, got behind cover, flipping over tables and knocking over statues or ripping down overlarge ornaments hanging from the wall or ceiling to protect themselves while they frantically reloaded their guns for the next round.

"The fourth trick?" The terrier asked, drawing a second gun.

"The ability to hit any target, no matter where you're aiming at!" Nack shouted, his voice steadier.

The terrier fired his gun… Next to him, behind him, at the ground, at the ceiling, in his mouth, anywhere but at where the other patrons were hiding… And yet, from the series of screams and slumps that could be heard from behind cover, somehow every bullet he'd fired had killed someone, without fail.

"The fifth?" The terrier asked as he did that strange hand trick again while the remaining patrons, motivated either by fear or alcohol, gave up on reloading and jumped out from cover, charging at him furiously, brandishing knives or broken bottles or pieces of furniture.

"To kill any target, no matter WHERE they're hit!" Nack yelled.

The terrier opened fire once again… And specifically aimed for nonlethal targets. Feet, arms, fingers, even grazing ears or noses… Even making sure to avoid arteries. And yet, no matter where a bullet hit, the person who got shot dropped instantly, clearly and visibly dead, until the floor of the bar was practically a carpet of the newly deceased.

Seeing this, the last patron standing, seeming to at last realize what he was up against, frantically threw down his weapon and raced for the exit.

"You're just gonna let him go?" Nack asked, surprised.

"What is the final trick of the Gunslinger?" The terrier asked.

Nack's eyes widened in realization. "To kill… Without lifting a finger…"

As the runner smashed through the door and outside, the old Mobian holstered his guns, held his hands at his sides, and stared after him, concentrating. The broken door swung back and forth, open, closed, open, closed, revealing and hiding the terrified dog in rapid succession. As the door swung open again, the fleeing tough almost out of sight, the terrier's eyes bulged…

There was a gunshot. The door swung closed. The next time it opened, the runner was lying on the ground in the distance, dead.

Nack glanced down at the old Mobian's hands. They hadn't moved anywhere near his holsters. "You do know," he said, voice trembling. "A lot of those tricks, especially the last one, could easily have been faked. A shooter on the roof or something."

"Yes," the terrier agreed. "Except they weren't."

"No," Nack agreed, shaking his head slowly. "Which means… Which means you're really him, aren't you? The Gunslinger."

"That's right," the terrier agreed.

"And you want to train me… ME."

"Correct."

"But… Why?" Nack demanded.

"Well, I'm getting old, and it's about time I passed down my techniques to the next generation-" the terrier started.

"Not that, why me?" Nack interrupted. "Out of all the scoundrels and punks in the world, what drew your attention to me? I'm… I'm nobody. Not anymore. Just another idjit who got too big for his britches, bit off more than he could chew, and whose days are numbered because of it. I'm not… I'm not worthy."

The Gunslinger regarded Nack for moment in silence. "Because it had to be you, Nack. You're the only one I can pass this on to. It was always going to be you, long before you were born."

"Huh? Why?" Nack asked, confused.

Gunslinger shook his head. "That is not something I can tell you just yet. Only after you've trained with me for a while, can I reveal that mystery."

"Really." Nack frowned, suddenly skeptical again. "Tabling that for the moment, what's the catch?"

"What makes you think there is one?" The Gunslinger asked.

"Because there is ALWAYS one. What, do I have to promise to uphold some sacred tenet? Promise only to use my powers for good, never harm the innocent, only kill the wicked, something like that?" Nack asked half-sarcastically.

The Gunslinger burst into laughter. "What do you think this is, kid, a Stephen King novel? I don't give a shit what you do after you learn from me. You can become a vigilante hunting down those who've brought misery to others, or kill everyone in the world who's ever wronged you, or settle down to become an accountant and never use these powers at all, for all I care. All that matters to me is that these techniques are passed down. What you do after that is up to you."

"Seriously?" Nack asked in disbelief. "Don't you think that's a little irresponsible?"

"A man makes a gun, and another man takes it and uses it to kill someone, who's responsible? The gunsmith, or the man who pulled the trigger?" The Gunslinger retorted. "Someone gives a man a weapon, they aren't to blame for what that man does with it."

"I guess so," Nack admitted uncertainly. "But then… What's the catch? And don't tell me there isn't one!"

"Oh, there is one," the Gunslinger agreed. "And it's a pretty big one. However, that, too, isn't something I can tell you until after you've trained with me for a bit."

Nack frowned. "Yeah, no offense, but that's not exactly helping your case."

The Gunslinger shrugged. "It is what it is. You can accept, or not. The choice is yours."

"What if I say no?" Nack asked.

"Then I will walk out that door, and you will never see me again," the Gunslinger said, nodding towards the broken door. "And as the hunters and debt-collectors and everyone else who wants a piece of you come calling for you, you will have no one to help you but yourself, and dearly wish that you had chosen differently."

A chill ran down through Nack's spine. The old terrier was right. If he went with him, he might learn techniques and gain powers beyond his comprehension… At a cost he could not yet fathom. If he did not, then his life would still be his own… Until those who were after him finally caught up with him.

Two futures. One certain, the other not.

Put that way, the choice was rather obvious, wasn't it?

"Fuck it, let's go," Nack said, chugging down what was left of his drink, belching, and then tossing it to shatter on the ground. He immediately grimaced and wished he hadn't done that, feeling like he was on the verge of throwing up. He briefly contemplated doing so, then decided the floor was messy enough already, what with all the dead bodies and whatnot.

The Gunslinger smiled. "Very well. Follow me."

"Where to?" Nack asked as he followed the terrier towards the exit.

"You'll find out we get there,"was the reply.

Nack rolled his eyes. "Typical. Hey, if I HAD said no, who would you have chosen to train, anyway? My sister or something?"

The terrier chuckled. "Oh, no, Nack. You were never going to say no. This meeting was foretold long before you or I were ever born."

"… Seriously?" Nack asked, alarmed.

"Seriously," the Gunslinger said with a serious nod.

"Huh. Must've been some prophet…" Nack muttered as they left the bar.

A few minutes later, the barkeep, forgotten by all, cautiously poked his head out from behind the bar. "Dammit," he swore in frustration when he saw the massacre laid out before him. "Every goddamn time…"

Grumbling in frustration, he stood up and headed to the closet for the cleaning supplies. It wouldn't be too long before Happy Hour, and he had to have the place… Well, not spotless, heavens no, but having dead bodies everywhere would be very bad for business.

Not that it wouldn't be long before the floor was carpeted in corpses again. The faces and details might change, but the stories were always the same. This is what happened in seedy bars, and always would be, until the end of time.

It was in the script, after all.

…

"… Holy shit," Sonic said after a moment, dumbfounded. He wasn't the only one.

"So that was the Gunslinger… The stories do not disappoint," said an awestruck Rouge.

"Jesus, I didn't think people could do that sort of thing in real life! I thought crap like that was reserved for ridiculous special effects in movies, with slow-mo and bullet cams!" Said an incredulous Mighty.

"That was a lot of death," Cream whimpered.

"Well, that sort of thing tends to happen a lot when there's a shootout," Tails pointed out.

"Yeah, ever wonder how many people your Grunkle's shot-" Charmy spoke up, only to immediately go silent when Shadow glared him. Cream whimpered, immediately making him feel even worse.

"I-HAD-SEVERAL-ORGASMS-JUST-NOW," Omega said happily.

"We did not need to know that," said a revolted Knuckles.

"I-DON'T-CARE," Omega said.

"Grunkle Shadow, are you okay?" Cream asked in concern, noting that her Grunkle was shaking.

"I am filled… With TREMENDOUS envy…" The black hedgehog said through gritted teeth.

"Why, because this ridiculously Badass old dude chose Nack to be his apprentice instead of you?" Mighty asked.

"Yes," Shadow snarled.

"To be fair, you were still probably still hibernating when this happened," Espio pointed out.

"Oh, wouldn't have made a difference," Fang spoke up. "Even if he'd been up and about, the old man still would've passed him over for me. It was ALWAYS going to be me, foretold since long before either of us were twinkles in our mother's eyes."

"Which just makes me even MORE jealous," Shadow growled. "… Also, because you had a mother and I didn't."

"Eh, me mum was a bitch," Fang said flippantly.

"That's a terrible thing to say about your mother!" Amy cried, aghast.

"What? My mother was a wolf. Female wolves are bitches," Fang pointed out.

"… Oh. Right," Amy said sheepishly.

"She was also a cunt," Fang continued. Amy gasped again.

"A what?" Cream asked in confusion.

"It's a very bad word," Shadow said quickly.

"Oh," the young rabbit said, wrinkling her nose in disgust. "How could anyone refer to their mother like that?"

"Because my mother was a very, very bad person," Fang said. "As was my father. And… Pretty much everyone I knew growing up. Like I said, shitty childhood."

"That supposed to make us feel sorry for you?" Mighty sneered.

"Not really," Fang said with a shrug. "While I freely admit my upbringing had a good hand in making me the Asshole I am today, in hindsight there were a lot of things I could have done differently to become someone else. Even so, I think for the most part I'm happy with how I turned out. I have way more fun as a gun for hire that I would have as a goodie-two-shoes."

"Those things the Gunslinger did… You can do them as well?" Blaze asked, intrigued.

"Yep. Why, want a demonstration?" Fang asked, reaching for a gun.

"Fang…" Alonzo growled.

"I was merely curious. The feats your mentor performed were incredible. I've not even seen the like back in my own realm," Blaze commented.

"You have guns in your world?" Vector asked.

"Something similar, but not quite like the kind you have," Blaze said faintly.

"So if he was capable of that sort of thing all long… Wow, you guys are really lucky he didn't go all out when you fought him years ago," Tails said to the Chaotix.

Vector cringed. "Thank you for making us think about that, Tails. What happened to us when he was holding back was bad enough as is."

"Yeah, there are so many ways I could've killed you," Fang agreed. "It would've been, like, so absurdly easy. I mean, I didn't even have to try to beat you before. I mean, it would've taken practically zero effort at all to-"

"That's enough humiliation please," Espio groaned.

"THERE-CAN-NEVER-BE-ENOUGH-OF-THAT," Omega said.

"Wait, if you can do the same kinds of things that the Gunslinger can do, then… How the heck did you lose that fighting tournament we had a while back?!" an alarmed Sonic demanded.

"For the same reason I was using pop guns instead of actual guns," Fang explained. "It wasn't a serious fight. I was just fighting for fun, really. Honestly, I could've easily killed you even with those toys if I'd really wanted to, but I decided I wanted to see how much you'd improved since the last time I saw you."

"So you were just toying with me," Sonic said angrily.

"Yep," Fang said cheerfully.

"So how much did Sonic improve between when you first met him and the tournament?" Knuckles asked.

"Not enough," Fang said bluntly.

Sonic fumed, and some of the others snickered. "Yeah, well… I've gotten a lot stronger since then, you know."

"Still not enough," Fang said dismissively. Sonic growled.

"Don't worry, Sonic! You'll always be strong enough for me!" Amy declared.

"Yeah, that's nice," Sonic grunted.

"You will always be stronger for me as well, beloved," Blaze added.

Sonic smiled gratefully at her. "Thanks, Blaze." Amy started grinding her teeth.

"By the way, what was all the 'script' stuff about?" Charmy asked.

"Theory of narrative causality," Rouge suggested.

"I have no idea what that is," the bee complained.

"I do," Tails spoke up.

Espio rolled his eyes. "Of course you do."

"What's the theory of narrative causality?" Cream asked.

"Basically, it means that things happen because the plot says they do," Tails explained. "In fiction, it's the underlying reason that million to one chances always work, the good guy always wins in the end, it's always a terrible idea to tempt fate, one lone hero is always able to defeat an Army of highly trained individuals, and why if three brothers set out on a quest the first two die the third one is utterly incapable of failing. In the case of Nack's story, it's referring to how whenever a protagonist down on his luck is drinking in a bar out in the middle of nowhere, there's a high chance of them being approached by a mysterious stranger there to either help or kill them- sometimes both-and an even higher chance of a bar fight that trashes the whole place, because that's just what happens in bars in stories. It's practically an inevitability."

"But our life isn't fictional, it's real," Charmy protested.

"Didn't we just go through this with Sticks?" Espio called.

"Yeah, and I didn't really want to go to the whole troubling implications of it then, and I don't want to now, either," Vector agreed.

"Can we get back to my story now?" Fang asked, getting annoyed.

"Oh, right, sorry," Tails said. "You can continue."

"Thank you. I will," the hired killer huffed.

…

The Gunslinger fled across the desert, and Nack followed.

…

"I thought this wasn't a Stephen King story," Shadow said dryly.

"Shut it," Fang grunted.

…

Nack followed his new mentor across the barren wastes for what felt like hours, the blazing sun making every breath torture and every second a thousand eternities in hell. Eventually, Nack saw what looked like a giant cactus on the horizon, and he initially assumed it to be another Mirage, until they got closer and he realized it was all too real. When they got closer still, he realized it wasn't a cactus at all, but a hill incongruously covered in lush green grass, and once they reached its base, he discovered that what he thought were needles were, in fact, gravestones.

A lot of gravestones.

"Is this where you've buried everyone you've ever killed?" Nack wondered, unable to raise his voice above a whisper, both because something about this place scared the willickers out of him, and partly because his throat was unimaginably dry.

The Gunslinger chuckled. "Son, you give me far too little credit. If this were where I'd buried everyone I'd ever killed, there would be gravestones for miles all around."

…

"That's… A disturbing thought," said an unnerved Mighty.

"Your kill count is pretty high as well," Rouge commented. "And that's just the confirmed ones."

"Yeah, there's plenty you lot don't know about," Fang agreed. "I haven't quite broken the old man's record yet, but I'm getting there."

Cream shuddered.

…

"Then who's buried here?" Nack asked. "Family?"

"Of a sort," the Gunslinger said vaguely. "Come with me."

He led Nack around the side of the hill to an old ramshackle cabin. He told his new protégé to wait outside, and then went in. A few minutes later, he came back out with a shovel and a canteen, both of which he handed to Nack. Nack greedily guzzled down the contents of the canteen, then glanced at the shovel in puzzlement. "What's this for?"

"Come with me," the Gunslinger repeated, walking up the nearby slope.

Perplexed, Nack followed him up the hill, winding his way through the myriad grave markers as the terrier walked in a long, circuitous route around the hill, seeming to look for something. Finally, he stopped, nodding at the ground. "Yes, this'll do."

Nack looked down. The ground that seemed to hold his teacher's interest didn't seem to be any different to him, except for the fact that there wasn't any gravestone nearby. "What will?"

"You want to know what that shovel is for?" The Gunslinger pointed at the ground. "Start digging."

Nack stared at the ground for a moment. Then he looked at his shovel. Then he looked at the graves standing all around them. Finally, he said, "Are you asking me to dig my own grave?"

The Gunslinger chuckled. "Nack, I told you I wanted to teach you how to do what I can do. Why would I do that, and then bring you all the way out here to make you dig your own grave? If I really wanted to kill you, I'd have done it back at the bar."

"I suppose so," Nack said uncertainly. "But then why am I digging a hole at all?"

"First step in your training," the Gunslinger said.

Nack frowned. "And what if I don't want to dig a hole?"

"Then you don't get any training at all, and you can walk back to civilization," the terrier said flatly.

Nack's shoulders slumped. "Can I at least get some more water? It's pretty hot out here."

"No," the Gunslinger said, turning and starting to head back down the hill.

"Where are you going?" Nack asked suspiciously.

"To start preparing dinner," the Gunslinger said over his shoulder." Don't worry, I'll check on you in a bit. I expect that hole to be finished by the time I get back. It doesn't have to be very deep, but it still needs to be big enough to fit a body."

"I thought you said I wasn't digging my grave!" Nack protested in alarm.

"Yeah, but I never said it wasn't a grave," the Gunslinger replied.

Grumbling under his breath, Nack rammed his shovel into the dirt and started to dig.

The next few hours were a hell even worse than the torturous journey out here. The digging itself wasn't too bad, the shovel was sturdy and the soil was pliable and easy to move, even as the hole got deeper, but the continuing bombardment from the wrathful sun and the lack of water combined with the extreme dryness of the air made the task one of the most miserable he'd ever undertaken, sweat pouring off of him in droves with every motion he took, his lips growing so chapped and dry they were bleeding constantly.

Despite his hardship and thirst, he kept on digging, the world around him seeming to disappear until all of reality consisted of himself, his shovel, and the hole he was digging.

Eventually, as if from a great distance, he heard the Gunslinger say, "That's enough, boy. You're finished."

Nack buried the tip of his shovel into the ground beside him and gratefully took the canteen the terrier wordlessly offered him, chugging down its contents in seconds. It didn't even come close to quenching his thirst, but it was a start. "Wow. I really did all that?" Nack asked hoarsely as he looked at the grave he dug, as if seeing it for the first time. It was much bigger than he had thought it would be.

"You certainly did. If you change your mind about this line of work, you might do well as a gravedigger," the Gunslinger joked.

"Yeah, we both know that's not gonna happen," Nack said as the Gunslinger offered him another canteen, which he also drank in seconds. "So, what was I digging this hole for, anyway?"

"For a grave," the Gunslinger said, walking over to the head of the hole and setting a grave marker into the ground.

"Yeah, you that, but for who?" Nack persisted.

The Gunslinger moved aside, revealing that 'RIP Nack' was written on the marker. "For you."

There was a long pause. "I… I thought you said you didn't bring me out here to dig my own grave," Nack said weakly.

"I lied," the Gunslinger said, drawing his gun and shooting Nack dead.

…

Everyone stared at Fang, stunned. "You died?!" Amy asked, shocked.

"Yep," Fang said.

"OH-MY-GOD," Omega said, horrified.

"But then… How are you standing before us?" Asked a confused Cream.

"He probably had an extra life or something," Vector suggested.

"Nope, was all out of those," Fang corrected him. "And aside from that, it wouldn't have mattered. Not against that man."

"But… Then how DID you survive?" Sonic asked, bewildered.

Fang grinned. "That's the thing, hedgehog. I didn't."

…

The Gunslinger sat calmly at his ramshackle table in his ramshackle cabin, sipping from the stew he had made for dinner. A second bowl was set on the other side of the table from him, the chair empty. The terrier glanced at a clock on the wall, frowned slightly, then shrugged and resumed his meal.

Without warning, the door to the cabin was kicked open, and a certain purple weasel/Wolf hybrid, covered in dirt with a look of bloodshot rage in his eyes, staggered inside. "YOU."

"Ah, there you are," the Gunslinger said calmly. "I was wondering when you'd dig yourself out. Sit down, your dinner is getting cold."

"You shot me!" The other Mobian screamed.

"Yes, I did," the gunslinger said, nodding at the other bowl. "Don't you want to eat? I imagine you must be pretty hungry after pulling yourself out of your own grave."

"You… You talk about eating after… After what you did?!" The other Mobian shouted, stumbling over, looking like he was having trouble standing upright.

The Gunslinger shrugged. "Well, eating a big meal was the first thing I did after I dug myself out of my own grave."

The younger Mobian hesitated. "… Say what now?"

"Sit down and eat your stew, and I'll explain," the terrier said.

The Wolf/weasel narrowed his eyes. "And why shouldn't I just kill you right now?"

"First of all, because you can't. Especially not in the shape you're in. Second, because even if you could, if you killed me, you'd never understand what's happened to you."

The other Mobian paused. "… Something's happening to me?"

"Have you noticed something odd with your hearing since you woke up? A strange noise, ever present, that you can't quite pinpoint?" The Gunslinger asked.

The younger Mobian hesitated. "… I… Have, yeah. What did you-"

"Look under your vest. Look at where I shot you," the Gunslinger said.

Hesitantly, the Wolf/weasel pulled up in his vest… And saw a bullet hole right through his heart. He stared at it for a long moment. "… You… You shot me in the heart. There's… There's no way I could have survived that."

The terrier shook his head. "You didn't, my friend. That sound you're hearing? It isn't a sound, but the absence of it. Something that you've heard your entire life, so often that you eventually forgot it was even there, and so its sudden disappearance is understandably disorienting. The sound of your heartbeat."

…

Everyone stared at Fang, stunned. "You're undead?" Sonic asked, astonished.

"That would certainly explain why I can't hear your heartbeat or smell your blood…" Rouge murmured.

"YOU-JUST-GET-COOLER-BY-THE-MINUTE," Omega said gleefully.

"Or as far as everyone else is concerned, scarier," Charmy said with a shudder.

"Dammit, Mighty, what were you thinking, putting us up against this guy?!" Vector demanded.

"Hey, don't put this on me! You thought it was a good idea, too!" Mighty said angrily.

"You certainly don't look undead…" Amy said skeptically.

"Neither does Rouge," Knuckles pointed out.

Shadow nodded. "There are many different types of undead in the world. Some look more alive than others."

"Then which one is he?" Tails wondered.

"Well, if you let me continue my story, maybe you'll find out," Fang said with a hint of annoyance.

"Sorry, frequent digressions is sort of how we've been doing things with all these origin stories, much to my chagrin. If you'd watched everything so far, you'd know that," Silver said deadpan.

Fang grunted. "I suppose so."

…

There was a long silence. " I'm… Dead?" The recently exhumed Mobian whispered.

"Sit down and eat your stew, son," the Gunslinger instructed his apprentice.

Slowly, the hybrid took a seat at the table and stared at the stew, the floating mix of meats, vegetables, and spices reflecting the jumble that was his mind as he struggled to process this. "… If I'm dead, why should I bother eating?"

"Just because you don't need to eat doesn't mean you can't," the Gunslinger said with a shrug. "You're still breathing, aren't you?"

The undead Mobian frowned. "Hey, yeah, why am I doing that?"

"Force of habit," the Gunslinger said. "I'll train it out of you in time. Now that you don't need to breathe, quite a few new avenues are open to you. You should be fine at the depths of the ocean, or even in outer space, though I'd still recommend some sort of suits for either of those. Just because you don't need to breathe doesn't mean you can't still be affected by pressure or extreme temperatures. Speaking of which, you'd better eat that before it gets cold."

Mind still numb, the weasel/Wolf obeyed. After eating a few spoonfuls, he looked up at the Gunslinger warily and said, "So… I'm dead."

"Undead, technically," the Gunslinger said.

"So, does that mean I'm going to start craving brains, or…?"

"No, those are zombies. You're more of a revenant," the Gunslinger said.

…

"A what?" Cream asked.

"He's about to explain it," Fang snapped.

"Oh, sorry," the rabbit said apologetically.

…

"A what now?"

"Sort of a visible ghost or animated corpse revived to haunt the living, though that's a bit of a broad definition," the Gunslinger explained.

"And… You killed me, and I'm undead now, because…?"

"Young man, would you say that the skills I demonstrated back at the bar were the sorts of things any living man could possibly replicate?" The Gunslinger asked with a smile.

The freshly undead Mobian considered this. "No, now that I think about it."

"That's because no living man can do them. Only the dead," the Gunslinger explained. "It is physically impossible for a living person to do the sorts of things I can do. The dead, however, have no such restriction. The things I can do are nothing short of magic, kid, and magic…REAL magic…always comes with a hefty price tag."

…

"Very true," Rouge said solemnly.

"Indeed, it's something I'd wish more of the evil sorcerers I've fought would learn," Blaze admitted. "And yet they keep making the same mistakes as all those who came before them."

"Yeah, doing tons of crazy evil magic will do that to you, I expect," Sonic agreed.

"Especially given everything we've faced in the past," Tails added. The others nodded in agreement.

…

The new revenant frowned. "Then you…?"

The Gunslinger nodded. "Am undead myself, yes. I died when my teacher, the Gunslinger before me, shot me in the heart after I'd finished digging my own grave. It's a rite of initiation that all who aspire to become the next Gunslinger must pass before they can begin to learn true mastery of the bullet."

The other Mobian frowned. "Then all those other graves…"

"Were dug by those who come before us, yes," the Gunslinger finished.

"And where are they now?"

"In the graves they dug," the Gunslinger said.

The purple Mobian blinked. "But… I thought they were undead."

"They were. Then they weren't. They were killed by their apprentices, just as I killed my predecessor, and so to, one day, you will kill me," the Gunslinger said solemnly.

The apprentice considered this. "Well, seeing as how you shot me earlier, I can't say I'm not looking forward to that. I guess it's one of those 'there can only be one' sorts of things, then?"

"Basically," the Gunslinger confirmed.

"But… Hang on…" The young undead said with a frown. "That means… Someday my apprentice will kill me!"

"Yes," the Gunslinger confirmed.

"But I don't wanna die! Again, I mean," the reluctant future Gunslinger protested.

"You don't have a choice in the matter," the Gunslinger said gruffly. "And don't say something stupid like, 'I just won't take an apprentice, then.' That shit never works. The magic that makes us Gunslingers will also make you seek out a disciple one day. A disciple who will kill you. Just as I sought out you, who will one day kill me. There is no way around it, my friend. When your training is complete, you will kill me and assume the mantle, and one day you will be killed by your replacement. That is the way of the Gunslinger."

"Can't I just kill-"

"No. It doesn't work like that."

"How do you know?" He demanded.

The Gunslinger shook his head. "Again, you don't think any of our predecessors have tried that? Try to shoot our chosen successor, and the bullets just veer away. And no, other methods of death won't work either. Destiny marks them to be future Gunslingers, and destiny cannot be denied. They will become Gunslingers, come hell or high water."

"… Well, shit," the irritated Mobian growled. "I'm guessing this is that catch you mentioned."

"Pretty much," the Gunslinger agreed.

The apprentice glanced at the door. "Well, what if I say 'nuts to this' and walk out that door?"

"You mustn't!" the Gunslinger said, looking alarmed.

"Why, because destiny won't let me?" he sneered.

"No, because then the bullet I put in you will burst, ripping your heart apart and truly killing you," the Gunslinger informed him.

There was a long pause. "… Wait, seriously?!" The younger Mobian cried.

The Gunslinger nodded. "I'm afraid so."

"What, you shot me with a magic bullet or something?!"

"The bullet itself is not magical, but it is part of the magical procedure animating you, set into motion the minute you set foot on the Hill outside and began to dig your grave, a ritual as old as the gun itself," the Gunslinger explained. "Its old magic, son, an old magic is never something to mess with."

…

"Wait, just how old are we talking here? Haven't guns only been around for like a few centuries, tops?" Amy interrupted.

"What, you think a gun is the first hand-held weapon that's been used to kill people?" Fang said with a smirk. "Humans and Mobians have been coming up with ways to murder each other since the very beginning. The power of the Gunslinger has existed ever since someone came up with the bright idea to throw small rocks really hard by spinning them really fast over your head in a piece of cloth. When someone came up with a better way to kill then a sling, the magic changed as well. It's transformed many times throughout the ages, and the gun is just the current vessel for its power. Before this, it was crossbows or something. One day someone will come up with something even better than a gun, and from that day forward, that will be the model for future Gunslingers- or whatever they call themselves at that point- to go by. Until something else comes, of course. It will live on, so long as people have the will to murder each other."

"So, forever then," Espio said flatly.

"Basically," Shadow agreed.

"WHY-COULDN'T-IT-HAVE-CHOSEN-ME?" Omega complained. "I'M-BASICALLY-MADE-OF-GUNS!"

"Maybe robots are ineligible?" Tails suggested.

"IF-THAT'S-TRUE, I-WILL-BE-VERY-DISAPPOINTED," Omega said in disgust.

"… That's kind of scary," Cream whimpered.

"Magic is a force of nature, Cream. It isn't always friendly," Blaze said gently, knowing from experience.

"And there's nothing friendly about mine," Fang said, sounding more serious then bragging.

…

"… Fuck." Wordlessly, the Gunslinger slid a bottle across the table to him. With a nod of appreciation, he took a drink from it. Then another. "… So, I guess I don't have a choice, do I?" He asked bitterly.

"Sure you do," the Gunslinger said. "You could walk outside the door and die instantly. Or you could stay here and fulfill your destiny."

"Wait, if I died, wouldn't that-" the new disciple asked in confusion.

"No, it wouldn't screw destiny. Destiny would just find someone else to take your place. Wouldn't be the first time," the Gunslinger interrupted.

"So in other words, no, I don't have a choice," the other Mobian said flatly.

"You never did," the Gunslinger said with a hint of sadness. "This path was chosen for you long before you were born, just as it was chosen for me, and for those who came before me. Still, that does not mean you can't have some fun along the way. After all, everyone dies eventually, even most that consider themselves immortal. The only thing that's really changed is that now you more or less know exactly how you're going to die." He shrugged. "And like I told you, once you become the Gunslinger, you can basically do whatever the heck you want. The magic doesn't care what you do with it, just that you have it, and that one day, you pass it on."

"… Well, I guess that's something to look forward to," the annoyed weasel/Wolf grunted. He took another swig from the bottle. "All right then. If I'm stuck doing this bullshit, I'll go all in. How do we start?"

"First, you finish your meal," the Gunslinger said, nodding towards the stew, which had cooled significantly. "Then, you get a good night's sleep. We begin training tomorrow."

"I'm dead. Why do I need to sleep?" The other Mobian asked.

"Same reason you still eat and breathe. It makes you comfortable, and resting every now and then can have its advantages," the Gunslinger said. "Oh, one other thing. You need a name."

The protégé frowned. "What do you mean? I already have a name, it's-" His tongue froze. "It's-" The words wouldn't leave his throat. Somewhere between his brain and his vocal chords, the train of thought delivering the single syllable that his parents had christened him with derailed, killing all aboard. Alarmed, he looked at the Gunslinger. "I… I can't say my name. Why can't I say my name?!"

"Because it isn't your name anymore," the Gunslinger said. "Nack the Weasel is no more. He died this afternoon, when I shot him on the hill. I buried him in the grave he dug himself. And you clawed yourself out of that grave. You were reborn, no longer the man you used to be, which means the name you used to have can no longer apply. As such, you must choose a new name now."

"… Are you fucking serious?!" the nameless Mobian shrieked. "You take my life, my future, and now my fucking name?!"

"Son, if I hadn't pulled you out of that bar, within a few days tops you would've been dead in a ditch," the Gunslinger said flatly. "Don't kid yourself about your life expectancy if I hadn't stepped in."

"… Fair enough," the nameless Mobian said grudgingly. "But still, my name… It's the one thing my parents gave me that I didn't hate. And now it's gone forever?"

"I had to cast my name off as well, when I was in your shoes," the Gunslinger informed him. "Then again, once I killed my mentor and became the Gunslinger."

"So basically, you're saying I'm going to lose my name twice."

"Essentially, yes."

"Shit." The nameless Mobian took another drink. "Really wishing you'd mentioned some of this beforehand."

"If I had, would you have said yes?" The Gunslinger questioned.

"Well… Um… I dunno, maybe…" The nameless Mobian said, uncertain.

The Gunslinger shrugged. "Well, be that as it may, what's done is done. You've taken your first steps towards becoming the next Gunslinger. To go forward, you must choose a new name."

"And let me guess, if I don't, that bull you put in my heart will kill me? Again, that is?" The nameless Mobian asked sarcastically.

"No, it means I'll just have to yell 'Hey, you!' Whenever I want your attention, and that'll get old fast," the Gunslinger said with a smirk. "Though I guess I could call you 'The Mobian With No Name' or 'The Gunslinger Formerly Known As Nack,' but those are both kind of a mouthful."

"And kind of pretentious," the nameless Mobian observed.

"Hey, don't go pissing on the classics," the Gunslinger said angrily.

The nameless Mobian rolled his eyes. "Whatever. So, a name? Got any suggestions?"

The Gunslinger shrugged. "Was there ever a name you called yourself in secret? A name you wished you had been born with instead of the one you received? One that doesn't sound like something some emo teenager might've dreamt up because they thought it sounded cool and edgy?"

"Well, that pretty much wipes out most of my list," the nameless Mobian snarked. "Unless… Well, there was one name…"

"What was it?" The Gunslinger asked.

The nameless Mobian paused, lost in thought. He absentmindedly stroked his oversized tooth. After several moments, he looked across the table at the Gunslinger, his eyes hard. "… Fang. Fang the Sniper."

The Gunslinger smiled. "Welcome to the world, Fang the Sniper. It's a pleasure to meet you." He extended a hand. After a moment, Fang shook it.

"So what now?" The newly named Mobian asked.

The Gunslinger grinned. "Like I said before. Eat your dinner, then go to bed. Because tomorrow, the real fun begins."

…

"And that, friends, is how I became Fang the Sniper," Fang concluded.

"Quite the chilling tale," Blaze commented.

"Like something out of a spooky Western," Charmy agreed with a shudder.

"And now that it's finally over, I can be on my way," Silver said in relief.

"Yeah, and you can release your hostages!" Sonic said angrily.

Fang raised an eyebrow. "Now hold on a second. Who said I was done just yet?"

"Aren't you?" Amy asked. "I mean, that sounded like a pretty good stopping point."

"Yeah, you said you're going to tell the story of how you became Fang the Sniper, and you just did, so doesn't that mean it's over?" Asked a confused Knuckles. "I mean, I'm not the only and who thinks that, right?"

"No, you aren't the only one," Vector assured the echidna.

"I'm not through just yet. There's a bit more to this tale," Fang told them.

Silver sighed. "Wonderful. Still more delays."

"Silver, you can travel through time. How can you possibly be worried about eating late or delayed?" Shadow asked.

"It's not a matter of being late, so much as me not wanting to be here anymore," Silver whined.

"Funny, you seem to have no problem showing up here whenever WE don't want you," Espio grunted. The psychic scowled at him.

"I still haven't gotten around to quite explaining why I'm here, and why I felt the need to air all this out to you," Fang pointed out.

"That's right," Tails recalled. "You said that you had some important business to take care of after this. And…" His eyes widened. "The Gunslinger trained you, but you still have your name. Which means… You haven't become the Gunslinger yet, have you?"

Fang shook his head. "No, I'm not. And I'm about to tell you why. But first, we need something to fit the mood. Oy, Omega! Got any music suitable for a training montage?"

"DO-I!" Omega said eagerly, speakers popping out of his shoulders as the power chords of a certain infamously catchy eighties song started to play.

…

Trying hard now

it's so hard now

trying hard now

The Gunslinger opened the chamber of his gun to show that it was empty. He closed it, did a somewhat complicated gesture, and then reopened the chamber to show that it was full. He repeated this a few times before nodding at Fang to try.

Face furrowed in concentration, Fang attempted to gesture, only for the gun to slip out of his hands, fall onto his foot, and discharge into the air, causing Fang to yelp in alarm. The Gunslinger shook his head.

Getting strong now

won't be long now

getting strong now

The Gunslinger stood in front of a series of automated machine guns all in a line. He nodded at Fang, who pressed the activation button, and they all opened fire at once. Although it seemed as if the Gunslinger was standing still as they all shot at him, by looking closely Fang could see that his mentor was actually moving in very small, impossibly quick ways that he was certain not even a certain blue hedgehog could replicate, allowing him to dodge every bullet while seemingly remaining motionless. Once the machine guns had emptied their clips and riddled the landscape behind the Gunslinger with bullets, the terrier nodded at Fang to show him it was his turn.

They switched places, the Gunslinger reloading the guns and glancing at Fang, who was now standing before them. Fang nodded, and the Gunslinger activated the guns. Bullets begin flying, and Fang yelped and frantically started dancing around to dodge the projectiles. The Gunslinger shook his head.

Gonna fly now

flying high now

gonna fly, fly, fly...

The Gunslinger set a series of empty bottles on a boulder, and then retreated several meters away to where Fang was waiting. The terrier scooped up some pebbles from the ground, picked one at random, and flung it at a bottle, breaking it into a million pieces. He quickly flung more pebbles, breaking all the other bottles and leaving the boulder bare.

As Fang whistled, impressed, the terrier handed him the remaining pebbles, ran out to the boulder, and quickly set up new bottles. He ran back to his protégé and gave him a nod. Fang selected one of the pebbles, then gritted his teeth and hurled it with all his might.

It fell pathetically to the ground just a few feet away. Fang grimaced, and the Gunslinger shook his head.

Trying hard now

it's so hard now

trying hard now

Several sneering, moving targets painted to look like cowboys moved back and forth across a series of tracks, sometimes popping up and down and moving in and out of view behind boulders or cacti or other obstacles. With a wink to Fang, the Gunslinger blindfolded himself, and then started wildly firing his gun in random directions. Astonishingly, every target went down without fail, a bullet hole drilled through a heart or between the eyes.

As Fang shook his head in amazement, the Gunslinger handed him the blindfold. With trepidation, Fang tied around his eyes, drew his gun, and also fired wildly, not stopping until he had nothing left in the clip. He took off his blindfold…

And saw, much to his disappointment, that he hadn't hit a single one of the targets. Abruptly, a dead buzzard, just about the only thing he had hit, fell out of the sky and landed on his head, bowling him over. The Gunslinger shook his head.

Getting strong now

won't be long now

getting strong now

The Gunslinger and his apprentice were perched on a tall ridge, watching a herd of bison ambling about below. The terrier gazed through the scope of his hunting rifle, aiming for the horn of one of the lead Buffalo. There was a loud crack as he pulled the trigger, a cartridge ejecting from the slide milliseconds after the bullet struck the buffalo's horn, knocking off the tip. As the other bison panicked from the gunshot and started stampeding away, the one with the broken horn stood still for a moment before collapsing, dead. Fang's jaw dropped in amazement and the Gunslinger chuckled.

Later, the duo found another herd of bison, and this time it was Fang's turn. Fang aimed for one of the horns of one of the bigger buffaloes, then, struck with a sudden whim, sighted its hindquarters instead. There was a loud crack as he pulled the trigger, a cartridge ejecting from the slide milliseconds after the bullet struck the buffalo's rear…

Causing it to bellow in rage, rousing the rest of the herd, whom started trampling up the ridge towards Fang, who ran screaming. The Gunslinger shook his head.

Gonna fly now

flying high now

gonna fly, fly, fly...

Fang ran up a hill carrying two heavy buckets of water while bullets whizzed through the air around him, cursing as he tried to make sure none of them hit the buckets, which would mean he would have to go down the hill and start all over.

Trying hard now

it's so hard now

trying hard now

Fang swung over a pool of quicksand, shouting wildly as he fired his gun all over the place.

Getting strong now

won't be long now

getting strong now

Fang dropped to his knees as rain fell from the sky and screamed to the heavens. The Gunslinger, standing nearby with an umbrella, looked confused.

Gonna fly now

flying high now

gonna fly, fly, fly...

Fang balanced on one foot on a post, swiveling around with his arms out while shooting at targets popping up all around him, ignoring bullets being fired at him from below to try and knock him off.

Trying hard now

it's so hard now

trying hard now

Bellowing, Fang charged towards a herd of buffalo, guns blazing, while the Gunslinger was riding on his back, constantly bopping him over the head with the butt of a revolver.

Getting strong now

won't be long now

getting strong now

Fang emptied his cartridge into a target, ejected it, did a strange hand motion, and then opened fire again, squeezing another round of bullets out of a gun that should have been totally empty.

Gonna fly now

flying high now

gonna fly, fly, fly...

Once again, Fang stood before a row of automated machine guns. He nodded at the Gunslinger, who turned the weapons on and stood back as they sprayed everything in front of them with hot lead. After several seconds of this, the Gunslinger turned the guns off, and as the smoke cleared, it was revealed that Fang hadn't moved from where he'd been standing, was totally unharmed, and, with a grin, opened his hands, revealing they were full of spent bullets… With one caught between his teeth. The old terrier chuckled and shook his head in amusement.

Trying hard now

it's so hard now

trying hard now

The Gunslinger set up a row of empty bottles on top of a boulder and stepped back. Fang, standing several meters away, scooped up a handful of pebbles and started flicking them at the boulder one after the other. Each pebble unerringly flew through the air and struck a bottle, shattering it… And then one hurtled towards the Gunslinger's head. The terrier's hand shot out and snapped it out of the air before it could pierce his skull and frowned at Fang, raising an eyebrow. The hybrid gave him a completely unapologetic grin.

Getting strong now

won't be long now

getting strong now

As the series of snarling cowboy targets started moving, the Gunslinger handed Fang a blindfold. With a grin, the hybrid wrapped it around his eyes, then stuck his gun in his mouth and pulled the trigger until the clip was empty, did the reloading gesture, then repeated the process a few more times. When he finally removed the gun from his mouth and took off his blindfold, all of the targets had been knocked down, with bullet holes in their crotches. The Gunslinger gave Fang an unamused look, and the younger Mobian just gave him a cheeky grin.

Gonna fly now

flying high now

gonna fly, fly, fly...

Fang carefully sighted down the scope of his rifle as he tried to pick a target from the herd of bison grazing below. Like before, he put his chosen buffalo's hindquarters in his crosshairs… Then thought better of it, and instead aimed for the tuft of fur at the very tip of its tail, swishing to drive off flies. He waited for a moment, taking distance, wind speed, and all the other complicated calculations involved in firing a hunting rifle into consideration, and then squeezed the trigger.

There was a crack of thunder that startled the herd and sent them running away in a stampede… Save for one buffalo that now had no hair at the end of his tail, who slumped over, dead. The Gunslinger slapped a hand on the weasel/Wolf's shoulder, a look of pride on his face.

Trying hard now

it's so hard now

trying hard now

Fang and the Gunslinger stood back to back, surrounded by a mob of furious desperados. Master and apprentice exchanged glances, grinned, and then charged into the fray, guns blazing.

Getting strong now

won't be long now

getting strong now

Wearing a hoodie, Fang jogged up the top of the cemetery hill behind the Gunslinger's cabin as the night sky slowly gave way to the dawn. Reaching the hill's apex just as the sun crested the horizon, he threw his hands in the air and hollered at the top of his lungs, his cheers of triumph echoing across the desert.

Gonna fly now

flying high now

gonna fly, fly, fly...

"Wait, what did that have to do with shooting a gun?" Fang asked the Gunslinger in confusion as the terrier handed him a mug of coffee.

"Absolutely nothing, it's just something that happens sometimes during training montages," he explained.

"Oh, all right," Fang accepted.

Several hours later, after another grueling training session unaccompanied by a soundtrack, the Gunslinger and Fang found themselves back up at the top of the hill, doing what had become the younger gun's favorite past time outside of training: listening to the old Mobian regale him with stories of their predecessors. Some were tragic. Some were horrifying. Others were inspiring.

This one, on the other hand, was hilarious. "So, so there she is," the Gunslinger managed to squeeze out between fits of laughter. "There she is, a-all covered in blood, bits of the guy who's skull she'd caved in covering her hands, the bodies of everyone she just murdered littering the ground, and-and she looks, she just looks the guy in the eye and says, she-hahahaha, she says, 'I believe you made a mistake. I specifically asked to be seated in the non-smoking section!'"

He and Fang burst into raucous laughter, Fang laughing so hard he was starting to cry and having trouble breathing, while the Gunslinger was slapping the ground in hysterics. "Oh, that's, that's brilliant, that is!" Fang managed to squeeze out.

"Oh, but that, but that's not even the punchline!" The Gunslinger choked. "After she said that, the guy, the guy, the guy he just, he just dies!"

Fang gave the Gunslinger an incredulous look. "No fooling?!"

"No! He dropped dead right on the spot!" The Gunslinger cackled.

"What, did she use the sixth technique on him?" Fang asked, intrigued.

The Gunslinger shook his head. "N-no, the dumb bastard was so terrified his heart gave out on the spot!"

"Oh, that is too rich!" Fang guffawed, having trouble sitting upright.

…

"I don't get it," Knuckles complained.

"Eh, you had to be there," Fang said dismissively.

"I doubt I would've found it funny even if I had been," Cream muttered. Amy nodded in agreement.

"I-WOULD-HAVE," Omega said.

"You would," Sonic grunted.

"So, was that training montage and the tail end of a joke none of us get the important thing you want to tell us, or…?" Silver asked hopefully.

Fang shook his head. "No, we're getting to the bit."

…

"How do you know all this stuff about the old Gunslingers anyway?" Fang asked several minutes later, once they'd caught their breath and the sun had started to dig beneath the horizon. "Your old master tell you all the stuff?"

"Some of it, yes," the Gunslinger admitted. "But not all. Other things I sort of picked up later."

"What do you mean?" Fang asked, puzzled.

"Some days, when I've got nothing to do and nobody to go out and kill, I come up here by myself and just… Sit. It sounds boring, I'll admit, but as I'm sure you've noticed, it's very peaceful and quiet up here. Helps me gather my thoughts, gain clarity. And sometimes, when the sky is clear and the breeze is blowing just right, I can hear their voices on the wind. The whispers of those who came before," the Gunslinger explained.

Fang blinked, a little spooked. "You mean you hear their ghosts? Wait, is this place haunted?!"

"Not haunted per se, though it's something like that," the Gunslinger confessed. "More like their… Echoes, something of themselves they left behind when they crossed over. Their history, their experiences, their wisdom. There is much knowledge to be gained from their stories, collected from generation upon generation of Gunslingers. And one day soon, I shall add my voice to theirs, and future Gunslingers will also hear my story on the wind."

He looked at Fang sharply. "Fang, once I die-"

"After I kill you, you mean," Fang interjected.

"After you kill me, yes," the Gunslinger conceded. "It is very important that you bury me here on sacred ground, in the grave I once dug for myself and crawled out of when my master killed me. It is the final step in the process to inherit the mantle of Gunslinger, and if you don't do this, not only will you never reach your full potential, but my corpse will come back as a shambling horror and keep coming after you until you lay me to rest once and for all."

"Don't worry, I'll do it," Fang promised. "After everything I've seen, everything you've taught me… An honest burial is the least you deserve." He paused, then chuckled and shook his head. "It's funny. I look forward to killing you, really I do, but… I think I'm actually going to miss you when you're gone. Why is that?"

"That's what love is, Fang," the Gunslinger said, handing Fang his flask.

"Love? Is that what this is?" The younger Mobian wondered, taking a drink.

"As close as a man like you can experience it, yes," the Gunslinger said sagely. "Is there anyone else in your life you think you'd miss after you killed them?"

"My sister," Fang said immediately. "We hate each other's guts, and I'm probably going to kill her someday, but… As horrible as my childhood was, I think she's the member of my family I hate the least. Hell, you've been more father to me than my own dad was. And you killed me! He just beat me half to death."

"My own father wasn't like that," the Gunslinger murmured, left at that.

"You know, I don't believe you've ever told me who you were before you became, well, you," Fang realized all of a sudden.

"Never felt like telling you. Not right now, anyway. I think I'll save that story for last," the Gunslinger said with a shrug. "And if I never get around to telling it to you before I die, well, once you take up the mantle, you can always come up here and wait for me. You'll hear it eventually. I'll always be here if you need me."

"… That means more to me then I think you can ever imagine," Fang said after a moment. He took another drink, staring at the horizon and the sinking sun. "You're really okay with this? Me killing you?"

"It's not a matter of what I want, it's-" the Gunslinger began.

"Yeah, yeah, destiny, I know," Fang interrupted. "But seriously, you don't have any reservations whatsoever?"

The Gunslinger sighed. "Fang, I'm an old man. I was old when I took up the mantle, and I've only grown older since. I've outlived everyone I've loved, and everyone I've hated. I'm tired. I've been tired for a very, very long time. I want nothing more than a good long rest, but that rest won't come until you kill me." He smiled and patted the ground beside him. "So no, I don't have any reservations. I've lived my life, and lived it well, in my opinion. I've had all sorts of adventures, and had the opportunity to shape a promising young Mobian into my replacement. And when I go, I'll go content in the knowledge that our legacy is safe in your hands, and that I'll be able to rest among my hallowed ancestors, the finest company I can possibly imagine." He glanced at Fang. "And one day, you'll be here too."

"… You know, when you put it like that… It doesn't sound so bad," Fang admitted. "Truth is, back when we started this, I didn't really care all that much about all the mysticism and history and stuff you kept trying to shove down my throat and was just interested in learning how to pull off some impossible feats of gunplay. But now? After all these months, I… I'm actually kind of excited to be a part of this tradition. To take my place as the next link in an unending chain of Gunslingers, going back to practically the dawn of history. To be a part of that history, for my story to be intertwined with so many others, is an honor, really. One I never thought a punk like me would ever get to experience. And… I think that, when the time comes, I'm actually going to look forward to handing things over to whatever lucky bloke gets to be my successor. I hope he'll be a better man than me."

The Gunslinger nodded. "The most satisfying thing about being a teacher is seeing your student surpass you."

"And when it's time for me to die, for real, well… At least I'll be in good company, with you and all the other salty codgers buried here. And hey, at least I'll get a nice view," Fang said, nodding at the sunset.

"Actually, your plot is somewhere on the southern side. I don't think you're going to be able to see the sunset," the Gunslinger corrected him.

"Oh," Fang said, disappointed. "Well. The other bit still stands."

The Gunslinger smiled. "I think you're going to be a fine Gunslinger, Fang."

"Speaking of which, when AM I going to take your place, anyway?" Fang asked. "We've been training for months."

"You'll take your place when you're ready to defeat me," the Gunslinger said.

"Okay. And when will that be?" Fang asked.

"When you've mastered the sixth and final technique," the Gunslinger explained.

Fang nodded. "Great. When will you start teaching it to me?"

The Gunslinger shook his head. "You aren't ready."

"What?" Fang asked, taken aback. "What do you mean?"

"I mean you're not ready," the Gunslinger repeated.

"Why the hell not?!" Fang demanded. "I've mastered the other five techniques! I've done everything else you've asked of me!"

"Even so, you aren't ready," the Gunslinger repeated.

"Bollocks to that! I AM ready!" Fang insisted furiously.

The Gunslinger regarded him for a long moment. "You sure?"

"Yes! Absolutely!" Fang said angrily.

The Gunslinger said nothing for a long while. "All right," he said finally. "Stand up."

Fang stood up. "Okay. What now?"

"Drop your gun. The final technique, as you know, requires you to kill not with your gun, but with your heart," the Gunslinger instructed.

Fang put his gun on the ground. "Now what?"

"Turn around," the Gunslinger said.

Fang started to, and then hesitated. "Wait, are you going to shoot me in the back?"

The Gunslinger shook his head. "No, I'm going to shoot you in the front."

"Oh, okay-" Fang said as he turned around, only realizing what his mentor just said once his back was turned to him. "Wait, what?"

"Take 10 steps away from me. I'll do the same thing," the Gunslinger instructed.

Confused, Fang obeyed. "All right, but what was that about-"

"I'm going to start counting. At the count of 10, both of us will turn around and fire. Whoever is standing after that is the Gunslinger," the Gunslinger interjected.

"What? Fire… But I don't have my gun!" Fang protested.

"And neither do I. We're going to be using the sixth technique, remember? The one that doesn't use a gun, or any other form of projectile weapon?" The Gunslinger reminded his pupil.

"But I don't know how to do that! You haven't taught me yet!" Fang protested.

The Gunslinger chuckled. "Then you'd better learn fast. One…"

Oh shit. Oh shit oh shit oh shit oh shit-

"Two…"

What am I supposed to do? I don't know how to kill with just my heart!

"Three…"

He's bluffing. There – there's no way he expects me to figure it out like this!

"Four…"

On the other hand, considering his training methods…

"Five…"

FUCK. He's not bluffing!

"Six…"

I'm going to turn around, and he's going to shoot me dead. He's going to kill me! For real this time!

"Seven…"

I don't wanna die! Not yet! Not like this!

"Eight…"

Oh God, he was right! He was right! I'm not ready!

"Nine…"

I'M NOT READY!

"Te-"

"WAIT! Stop!" Fang shouted.

There was a pause. "And why should I do that?" The Gunslinger asked.

"Because… Because you're right. I can't do it. I'm not ready," Fang confessed, face flushed with shame.

There was another pause. "Turn around," the Gunslinger commanded.

Despondent, Fang obeyed…

And saw, much to his surprise, the Gunslinger was sitting exactly where he left him. "What? You… But I thought…"

"What, that I was going to shoot you, after all the work I put into you? Please! Give me a little credit!" The Gunslinger said, looking affronted.

"But then… What the hell was the point of all that?!" Fang demanded angrily.

"To teach you the lesson you just learned: that you aren't ready. Not for the sixth technique, and certainly not to become my replacement," the Gunslinger said firmly.

"… Oh," Fang said quietly, crestfallen.

"Which also means that is time for you to leave," the Gunslinger said gravely.

Fang started. "Leave?! But… You're… You're kicking me out?! No, wait! I'm sorry I got a big head and thought I was ready when I really wasn't! Please, don't-"

"Calm down, Fang, I'm not booting you out because you failed me, I'm asking you to leave because there's nothing left for me to teach," the Gunslinger interrupted.

Fang was confused. "Nothing left? But… The sixth technique!"

"Is something that cannot be taught, only… Discovered," the Gunslinger said enigmatically." And you certainly won't find it here, my young friend."

"Then… What am I supposed to do?" Fang asked, baffled.

The old terrier nodded towards the setting sun. "Go forth, out into the world. See the sights, live your life, do as you please, obtain new experiences. And somewhere, along the way, through the act of being who you are and doing what you do, you will eventually obtain the Enlightenment you so desperately seek."

"I don't seek enlightenment, I seek the ability to kill someone using only my mind," Fang said flatly.

"Ah, but to be able to do that in the first place, you must be enlightened," the Gunslinger said with a smirk.

Fang rolled his eyes in exasperation. "Right. Is this going to be one of those magic feather 'it was with you all long' sort of things?"

"Considering the power you're looking for can only come from within, basically," the Gunslinger confirmed.

"And the fact that I already know that doesn't count?" Fang persisted.

"No," the Gunslinger said bluntly.

Fang sighed. "Typical." He shrugged. "Well, I was getting tired hang around here anyway." That was a lie, and they both knew it. Fang already knew that once he became the Gunslinger, he would be moving into that old cabin and live there for the rest of his days. He felt drawn to this place, as his teacher no doubt knew he would. It felt like home, or like he'd always imagined home might feel like, considering the place he'd grown up in hardly counted. "So, I don't suppose you can give me any hints as to where I should start?"

The Gunslinger shrugged. "Set out in any direction and keep walking. Eventually you'll find your way. Although I suppose following the setting sun might be a good start."

"It's as good a direction as any," Fang agreed. "Any idea how long this path to enlightenment will take?"

"As long as it needs to," the Gunslinger said unhelpfully.

Fang growled. "And once I learn the sixth technique, what then?"

"Then? Then you will be ready. Then, and only then, can you return here," the Gunslinger said.

"To kill you," Fang observed.

"To kill me," the Gunslinger agreed. "And become the next Gunslinger, fulfilling your destiny."

"All right then," Fang said with a nod. He looked out West, as the sun dipped lower beneath the horizon. He suddenly remembered that it was a very long way to the nearest town, and there was a lot of desert between here and there. "I, ah, don't suppose you can give me a lift?"

The old terrier's hysterical laughter was the only answer he received. Fang rolled his eyes. "Of course." He turned back to his mentor and smiled. "The next time I see you, old man, I'm going to kill you," he said heavily, an indescribable emotion filling his voice.

The Gunslinger sobered up fast, regarding Fang with a fond smile and a twinkle in his eyes. "I look forward to it, kid."

They didn't hug. They weren't the hugging type. But old Mobian and young, teacher and student, master and apprentice, surrogate father and surrogate son, shook hands and gave each other a solemn nod before they parted ways.

Fang went westward, as the light faded from the sky.

And the Gunslinger watched him, sitting on his hill, surrounded by the whispers of all who had come before him.

…

"I'm not sure how long I walked across the desert," Fang confessed to his enthralled audience. "I don't think that hill has a fixed location, or even a fixed size. It's sacred ground, after all. Shows up where it needs to and all that. All I know is that eventually, I reached civilization. What happened after that isn't that important. I cleared up my debts, I reclaimed my bike, and I worked my way back up to the top of the heap, becoming one of the greatest guns for hire in the world, just as I always dreamed."

"Must've been easy, with all those tricks you picked up from the old guy," Knuckles commented.

"Actually, I didn't use them nearly as often as you might think," Fang corrected the echidna. "I used my magical skills sparingly, if at all, instead relying on the confidence I picked up from being the only other man in the world to be taught them in the first place, as well as my regular skills, which had been honed to near perfection out in the desert. Using my special abilities for run-of-the-mill bounty hunts or shootouts felt like a waste, a cheat, a dishonorable way to use such precious powers. It would've made things too easy, and then where would the fun be in that?"

"Oh, like how Sonic sometimes competes in vehicle races even though he could easily outpace just about any vehicle, for the thrill of it," Charmy realized.

"Uh, no, that's not why I do it," Sonic interjected.

"It's not? Then why?" Asked the confused Shadow.

Sonic shrugged. "I just like fast things and being in races." Everyone groaned.

"And with that, we have reached the end of my story," Fang concluded.

"Finally," Silver muttered in relief, switching off his recorder.

"THAT-WAS-AN-INCREDIBLE-STORY," Omega said gleefully. "ONCE-YOU-BECOME-THE-GUNSLINGER-FANG, DO-YOU-THINK-YOU-COULD-TRAIN-ME-TO-BE-YOUR-REPLACEMENT?"

"A robot Gunslinger? Don't think that's ever been done before… Then again, I don't see any reason why you can't," Fang said after some thought. "Well, so long as destiny chooses you to be my successor, that is. If it doesn't, well, then you're flat out of luck."

"OH," Omega said, sagging in disappointment.

"It's all right, Omega. You're perfectly good at killing people even without magical shooting abilities," Shadow told his mechanical friend, feeling a selfish tinge of hope that HE would be the next Gunslinger, not Omega.

"I-GUESS," Omega muttered, not seeming entirely pleased.

"Thank you for the story, Mister Fang," Cream said. "Even if you basically held us at gunpoint to listen to you, and was awfully violent and a little scary, I actually thought it was kind of nice."

"Yeah, the relationship you had with the old guy at the end was kind of touching," Amy agreed.

"As touching as a promise to murder someone at a later date can ever be," Espio grunted.

"And so, now that my story has reached its end, do you fully comprehend the true reason why I've told it to you?" Fang inquired.

"…Uh, no. No clue," Knuckles said after a moment's thought.

"Like that's a surprise," Mighty said sarcastically.

"You said earlier that you had some very important business to take care of after this story was over," Tails spoke up. "And since you ended the story with the revelation that you had to go out into the world to learn the sixth technique before he can truly become the Gunslinger…"

"Than that must mean you've somehow figured out, and are going to return to your master to kill him and take his place," Blaze concluded.

Fang nodded. "That's right. I recently managed to figure out how to pull off the final technique. I won't tell you the circumstances, because that's something private, but know that I have learned it truly and completely, and in so doing have finished my training. Which means all that's left to do is to kill the old man, and I will at last become the Gunslinger."

"Do you really have to?" Cream asked, alarmed. "It sounds like you really care about him."

"I do care about him, little lady," Fang agreed. "Which is why I've got to kill him. He made me promise to do it, and while I don't usually care much about keeping promises, for a guy like him… Well. I don't want to keep him waiting."

"But still, to kill a guy who's like your dad… What sort of messed up person would be okay with something like that?" Sonic complained.

"Well, if your parents are abusive, you might be cool with it," Knuckles pointed out.

"Are you saying you would be okay killing your own father?" Blaze asked.

Echidna shrugged. "Well, considering he's responsible for the extinction of my entire species… Well, I'm not saying I'd do it, but I'm also not saying the thought isn't tempting…"

"That's horrible," said a disgusted Cream.

"Out of all of us, I think I'm the only one close to understanding the thought process behind this," Rouge confessed. "I'm not going to kill my mother, but I AM going to replace her and inherit her position and power while she goes to what's more or less an eternal rest, even if I can go visit her whenever I like. It's a heavy burden and expectation, and while I'm looking forward to being the next Queen, I can't say I won't have mixed feelings when the time comes. But still… At least I'm not going to be driving a stake through her heart…"

Fang shrugged. "It's something I intended to do the minute I began my apprenticeship. The fact that I happen to care for the old bugger now doesn't change the fact that I'm going to kill him. But… Well, that's the price of this sort of magic, as you well know, right?"

Rouge nodded. "Yes, ancient magic like this always carries a heavy price."

"Tell me about it," Blaze grunted.

"And so, after learning the final technique, and learning what you blokes were up to, I realized this was the perfect opportunity to tell my story," Fang explained. "For many reasons. On the one hand, it's going to tell people all over the world just how deadly a man I really am, and how there's absolutely nothing law enforcement can do to stop me, no matter how hard they try. On another hand, it's so I can demonstrate to you, Sonic, and all your little friends, who were indirectly responsible for making me into the man I am now, just what sort of monster you have unknowingly unleashed upon the world."

Sonic made a face at that. "SONIC, FOR-BEING-INDIRECTLY-RESPONSIBLE-FOR-THE-CREATION-OF-THE-GREATEST-KILLER-WHO'S-EVER-LIVED, I-WILL-PROMISE-TO-MAKE-YOUR-END-SWIFT-WHEN-THE-TIME-COMES," Omega promised the blue hedgehog.

Sonic cringed. "Gee, thanks…" He muttered.

"On another another hand, it's so I can let the old man know death is coming for him, because I'm all but certain he's going to be watching this. I'm coming for him right after we're done here, and while I doubt he's going to be surprised, I feel it's only polite to give him an advance notice."

"How very kind of you," Amy said sarcastically.

"Yes, it is," Cream agreed obliviously. Amy rolled her eyes.

"And on the last hand-" Fang said.

"Wait, aren't we up to four hands now? Don't you only have two?" Knuckles interrupted.

Fang glared him. "On the LAST hand," he continued, as if he hadn't been interrupted. "This story is my epitaph. Whether I kill the Gunslinger or he kills me, once the bullets have stopped flying, Fang the Sniper will be no more. Just as Nack the Weasel died so that Fang the Sniper could be born, so too shall Fang die so that a new Gunslinger will be born. This is going to be the last time any of you ever see Fang. The next time our paths cross, and I assure you, they WILL cross, it will be a different man who's got you in his crosshairs."

"And what will you do when you have us in your crosshairs, Fang?" Sonic asked coldly. "Will you pull the trigger?"

"Honestly? I'm not sure," Fang admitted. "When I first began training, I was fantasizing about all the horrible ways I could kill you and your loved ones using the new power I would obtain. Now that I've gotten that power, though, and after I realize just how easily I could kill you after our fight in the tournament… I'm not positive. On the one hand, it'd be too easy. Not even remotely satisfying."

"Oh, come on, it wouldn't be that easy!" Sonic protested.

"IT-REALLY-WOULD-BE," Omega corrected him.

"Shut up," Sonic growled as Shadow didn't even bother hiding a snicker.

"On the other hand, I do owe you," Fang admitted. "If it weren't for you defeating me and driving me to rock-bottom, I wouldn't have been able to build myself back up into the person I am now. Whether that's enough to stay my hand should we ever find ourselves on opposite sides again, well… We'll just have to see, won't we?"

Sonic glared. "Yes. I guess we will."

"Well, I for one am looking forward to it, matter what happens," Fang said with a grin.

"SO-AM-I" Omega said eagerly.

"Omega, you realize that if we run into him again, he may try to kill you, right?" Shadow pointed out.

Omega considered this. "WORTH-IT," he said finally. Shadow sighed.

Fang checked his watch. "In any event, I do believe we're done here. So, if none of you mind, I'll just be on my way and-"

"Wait, what about the hostages?" Tails interrupted.

Fang paused. "What ABOUT the hostages?"

"You said you'd call your goons off after you were done telling your story," Vector accused the weasel.

"And I fully intend to," Fang said, pulling himself onto his sky cycle. "As soon as I'm a safe distance away, of course. Don't want any of you following me and getting any crazy ideas that could lead to a lot of people getting hurt that don't need to."

"And how do you we know you're going to keep your word?" Blaze asked angrily.

Fang smirked. "You don't. And, unfortunately, there's really nothing you can do about it at this point."

"… Fang?" Sonic said furiously.

"Yeah?" The weasel replied.

"The next time we meet, I'm taking you down for good," the blue hedgehog promised.

Fang burst into laughter. "That, my friend, has to be the funniest thing I've heard all year. Better than you have tried and failed. Worse, too. Just ask your Chaotix pals how that turned out."

"Fang…" Mighty growled.

Fang grinned as he gunned his engine and started rising into the air. "Be seeing you."

"I don't suppose we could pass on that?" Charmy asked desperately.

Fang laughed and vanished, his cackles lingering long after his physical presence was gone.

"I think that's a no," Knuckles commented. Charmy whimpered.

"What a thoroughly unpleasant individual," Blaze said in disgust.

"HE'S-SO-DREAMY," Omega gushed. Shadow grimaced.

"Rouge, you probably have a better idea about the sort of magic Fang has backing him up than anyone else here," Tails said to the bat. "Do you think you can come up with something to help us against him in the future, if and when he ever becomes a threat again?"

Rouge grimaced. "Not as much as you might think. The magic behind my family is ancient, but so is his. Gunslingers have managed to kill some of my ancestors in the past, and I'm not certain if we've ever managed the same feat. Still, now that I know a bit more about how his abilities function, I… May be able to come up with something. It may require some digging back home, though."

"I'll see what I can do as well," Blaze spoke up. "While I can't speak for my own magical prowess, I have a great many wizards back home that might be able to come up with something."

"And in the meantime, I'll see what I can whip up on the tech side," Tails added. "Those six skills of his are pretty formidable, but there must be SOME way to counter them."

"And I'll work on my own gunplay," Shadow added. "Now that I know more about those six skills, maybe I can have GUN R+D work up some way to replicate them in my guns. And my vassals back at my estate in Fangsylvania might come up with some helpful enchantments as well."

"I wish there something I can do to help," Cream lamented.

"Don't count yourself out just yet, Miss Cream," Alonzo spoke up, startling everyone who'd forgotten he was there. "Your family's got deep pockets, after all, and a great deal of contacts in the same line of work as Fang."

Sonic nodded. "Which means that if we pool all of our resources together, we may yet have a way to deal with Fang next time."

"That'll be a relief," Amy said gratefully.

Mighty clenched his fist. "Which means next time, we'll be the ones to give him a humiliating defeat he'll never forget…"

"Omega, are you okay with this?" Knuckles asked. "I mean, you're basically in love with Fang and all."

"WHILE-I-LOOK-UP-TO-HIM-A-GREAT-DEAL," Omega admitted. "IF-I-WERE-TO-DEFEAT-HIM… THEN-I-WOULD-PROVE-MY-OWN-LEGEND-TO-BE-FAR-GREATER-THEN-HIS-OWN. THAT-IS-NOT-AN-OPPORTUNITY-I-CAN-AFFORD-TO-PASS-UP. BESIDES, WHILE-IT-WOULD-BE-AN-HONOR-TO-BE-KILLED-BY-HIM, THAT-DOESN'T-MEAN-I-DON'T-WANT-A-CHANCE-TO PROVE-MY-OWN-SUPERIORITY-AS-WELL."

Vector grinned. "Well, sounds like we may have some hope against this guy yet!"

"We had hope last time, too. Remember how that turned out?" Espio said flatly.

"I'd rather not," the crocodile said with a grimace.

"Silver, I don't suppose there's anything YOU can tell us that might be useful?" Sonic asked the time traveler.

"Normally, I would say no because I don't want to risk changing the future," Silver said, pushing a few buttons on his recorder and skimming through some holographic projections. "On the other hand, I really don't like that guy and I hate the way he basically strong-armed me into being forced to listen to ANOTHER story that's not relevant to my mission. Unfortunately…" He frowned as he looked at a few articles. "According to the historical records, the Gunslinger legacy continues well into my own time. Whether or not that means you succeed or fail in bringing Fang down, I can't say for sure. I can confirm that he's not going to be the one to kill any of you, however."

"Well, that's something," Knuckles conceded.

"I don't suppose you can tell us what DOES kill any of us?" Charmy asked timidly.

"No," Silver said flatly.

The bee sighed. "Well, can't fault me for trying."

"I can, actually," Silver said, pushing a few more buttons and reviewing a little more data. "In any event, now that he's gone, I think it's time for me to go. Unless anyone ELSE wants to pop up out of nowhere and demand I tell their origin story?"

They waited anxiously for a few minutes. Nothing happened.

"I don't think anyone's coming," Blaze said finally.

"I-DO-NOT-DETECT-ANYONE-APPROACHING," Omega confirmed.

"Neither do I. Granted, we've had a few visitors who've been able to get the drop on us regardless, but no, I don't think anyone is coming," Rouge said.

"Given that we probably just tempted fate by saying that, let's give it another few minutes just to be sure," Shadow suggested.

They waited a few more minutes. Nothing happened.

"Well then, I guess you're good to go," Mighty said to Silver.

"FINALLY," Silver said with an exasperated sigh. "I thought I was never going to get out of here."

"Guess you have to go then. Off to save all of time and space," Sonic said with a smirk, extending a hand to the time traveler.

"Basically, yeah," Silver said as he shook it gratefully. "Thanks for all your help, guys. With all the information you've given me, I'm sure to get the best report!"

There was a pause. "Report?" Sonic said slowly, his grip around Silver's hand tightening.

"What? Report? Who said anything about a report? I certainly didn't," Silver said quickly.

"You did. Just now," Espio said coldly, drawing a Shuriken.

"Did I say report? I-I meant that I'm sure to give the best mission report for successfully defeating Eggman Nega with all the history you've provided me and saving the timestream!" Silver said anxiously as Amy drew her hammer, Omega, Shadow, and Alonzo took out their guns, Cheese and the Biter started growling angrily, and everyone else glared at him suspiciously and slowly tensed for battle, wincing as Sonic clutched his hand even tighter. "Um, Sonic, could you let go please, you're kind of squeezing me really hard-"

"Silver," Sonic said to gritted teeth. "Is there something you aren't telling us? And keep in mind that if you're lying, I have a girlfriend who can annihilate things down to the quantum level and a couple of friends who are extremely trigger-happy and would just love to riddle you with holes."

"I thought you said they didn't have permission to kill me!" Silver said desperately.

"I'm strongly considering changing my mind," Sonic snarled.

"Just say when, beloved," Blaze purred, forming a fireball in her hand.

Sweating bullets, Silver gulped, and then sighed in defeat. "All right, Sonic. You're right. There's something I haven't been telling you. You see IT'S NO USE!"

Without warning, his body flared with psychokinetic power, blasting Sonic away from him and pushing everyone else back a few feet. Before they could get their bearings, he frantically pressed a few buttons on his recorder, and vanished in a flash of light.

"Where did he go?!" Vector demanded, looking around frantically.

"Back to his own time, no doubt, where we can't chase him," Alonzo growled, reluctantly holstered his gun.

"Not to worry," Amy said sweetly, tightening her grip on her hammer. "He'll be back eventually. He always comes back. And when he does…"

"Maybe… Maybe he had a good reason for lying to us?" Cream suggested anxiously.

"Cream, do you really believe that?" Espio asked.

"… No," Cream admitted in frustration. Cheese patted her reassuringly and the Biter nuzzled her, singing her dress.

"I don't think even I would buy whatever excuse he could come up with for this," Knuckles growled.

"Yes you would," Espio said bluntly.

"… Okay, I would, but I'd still be really angry afterwards!" Knuckles confessed.

"Blaze?" Sonic said calmly, staring at where Silver had disappeared.

"Yes, beloved?" Blaze asked.

"You have permission to kill Silver the next time we see him if he doesn't have a very good explanation for this," Sonic said coldly.

Blaze's smile was absolutely terrifying. "With pleasure, beloved."

"Shadow? Omega ? Same applies to you," Sonic informed the black hedgehog and robot.

"We don't answer to you, blue hedgehog, and we're going to do that anyway. I'm sure we'll have the anti-psychic bullets ready by then," Shadow said sinisterly.

"LOTS-OF-THEM. LOTS-AND-LOTS-OF-THEM," Omega said gleefully. He hesitated. "ALERT! TEMPORAL-ANOMALY-DETECTED!"

"What? He's coming back already?" Rouge asked in surprise.

"I wouldn't have thought he'd come back so soon after pulling stuff like that, especially knowing how angry we were," Mighty commented, equally surprised.

"Well, he IS a time traveler. What might've seemed like seconds for us, for him it could be months or years, long enough for him to forget that we would be pissed at him," Tails reasoned.

Omega shook his head. "NEGATIVE. IT-IS-NOT-THAT-NOISOME-HEDGEHOG. IT-IS-SOMETHING-ELSE. SOMETHING… BIGGER."

"Bigger? That doesn't sound good," Cream said in alarm.

"I don't suppose it's someone from the past or future coming to tell THEIR origin story, but they were a little late?" Charmy asked nervously.

"Somehow, I doubt we'll be that fortunate," Alonzo said bluntly, drawing his gun as the ninjas reappeared from wherever they been hiding.

"THE-SOURCE-OF-THE-ANOMALY-IS-ALMOST-UPON-US!" Omega declared, pointing at a spot a few meters away. "BRACE-YOURSELVES!"

Everyone readied themselves for battle as the spot Omega indicated sparkled and cracked, and in a flash of light, something appeared. Something big. And something that was most definitely not Silver.

After several seconds of stunned silence, Sonic finally said, "Okay, I don't think any of us saw THIS coming…"

…

To be concluded…