Hello again to everyone. Sorry, I know its been a while since I've updated, but things have been a little hectic. I've had the past week off from school, finally, and its been a mad dash to see and hangout with my old friends now that they're also back from college, and my family, as well as see some movies I've missed while out at school.

Also, apologies, but Hotmail's being stupid again, and I've lost most of the reviews. I've been replying by PM as possible, but if I didn't respond to you, let me know and I'll answer your questions. Along those lines, I want to once again thank everyone who has taken the time to read the story, and I hope that you are all enjoying it.

Lawyers: You know the drill.

&

Nothing Ever Goes According To Plan

Sonic frowned as he heard what transpired between Bendark, Antoine and the prisoners. Shysa and the others were heading that way, but their progress was being slowed down by all of the fighting that was between them and their comrade. The cybernetic hedgehog rubbed a finger against his chin and looked at all the controls. He snapped his fingers and his hands flew over the keyboard in front of him. It took only a few seconds for him to program the camera signals to switch along the rooms and corridors that the commando team would be using.

Satisfied with his work, Sonic nodded, and then bolted out of the room.

Bendark's eyes roamed over the area as he was hauled into the Warden's Office.

Kyle Render's office was fairly Spartan in its set up. There was a picture, an old fashioned chemical based one, sitting on his desk. Bendark presumed it was his family. Aside from that, the most luxurious thing present was a padded chair and a bit of redwood paneling. The Warden himself occupied that chair at the moment. He had apparently be the subject of much entertainment by the rioting prisoners. His face was bruised and bloodied, one eye swollen shut. Nack was right behind him, a fair amount of red liquid coating his knuckles. A group of half a dozen body guards flanked him, armed with carbines and pistols.

"How does it feel now that the tables have turned, Warden?" The weasel asked, before punching the lynx across the temple. Weakly, Renders stared back, his eye still focused, trying to blink out the blood that was streaming into it.

"How does it feel to be the one caged like an animal?" This time the blow was across his jaw. "Huh?" The hit man grabbed the chair using it as leverage as he drove his knee into the Warden's chest. "Not so tough without that gun, are you?"

Bendark noticed something else then, too. Drago was also over to the fair side, a smirk on his face. Lieutenant Jeffers, a female squirrel, was gagged at his feet, her armor stripped and her uniform torn. He caught the predatory look in the wolf's eyes, and glared.

"Huttine." He muttered with a scowl.

Nack must have heard the insult. He paused his beating, cocked his head to one side and gave the timber wolf a curious look. Then he turned to the guards that had escorted them in.

"Nice job, now go cause some more trouble." He shooed them away. The six bodyguards moved in and secured the three prisoners. Bendark felt a B-5 pressed into his back. Mistakes number one and two.

"What's your plan, Nack?" Antoine asked, exchanging a glance with the Clone.

The weasel turned and looked at the former general. A smirk formed on his face, and he shook his head.

"What does it look like, General D'Coolette?" He laughed, a grating sound that made Bendark want to plug his ears. "You're a military officer, I would think you would recognized a coup d'etat when you saw one." He looked back over to where Renders was restrained. "It's simple, really. We kill a bunch of people, take some more hostage, establish control, and then appeal to the will of the people to give us what we want or we start killing people."

He paced over, looking down at Marty. The mouse tried to remain defiant, but there was a hint of fear in his face that he couldn't hide. Nack just chuckled again.

"Once we have their attention, we request transport out of here, and then we all just… disappear." He snapped his fingers. "A lot of us have bank accounts that were never seized because the pigs couldn't find them. Give me two weeks, and I'll be back in action. New face, new eyes, new fingerprints, the whole nine yards."

"And you really think that the Princess will let you do that? She'll end this by sending in a military strike force," Bendark growled. "She's not the kind to negotiate with scum."

"Well, now, I remember you," the weasel said as he moved forward, pausing just long enough to give Renders one more punch upside the head. "You were the one who came in and smacked around some of my boys and girls." He rubbed his chin and muttered something under his breath. "You're probably right, buddy. Sally would come in here and kill us all, because she knows what I'd be doing if I got back out. Therefore, I'd say it's a really good thing that it's that moron of a brother of hers that's calling the shots, rather that her. Wouldn't you agree?"

The irony here is so thick I could cut it with a Zhaboka. The Clone thought to himself. O wonder what he'd think if he knew just what was going on…

He heard the distinct sound of a pistol being drawn from its holster. "Before I kill you, there is one thing I really do want to know. Who are you, really?" Nack asked.

"Smith, John, graduate from—"

Nack pointed the pistol at Antoine's forehead.

"Please, don't take me for an idiot." The convict rolled his eyes. "You're not one of these pigs that only have whatever passes for guts among them because of the gun in your hands. You're something else. Now who are you, who are you working for, and what are you doing here?"

A small smile curved at the edge of Bendark's mouth. He could still hear chatter from his group, and he figured that he had maybe two minutes before Shysa and the others showed up. Better keep them talking until then. Lure them into a false sense of security.

"MC-2308 'Bendark.' Grenadier for Cuy'val Dar squadron number 1-Epsilion-5. Rank: private, age: five and a half years." He fired it off mechanically, rhetorically. Then he watched to see if the effects would sink in.

Drago cocked an eyebrow and looked confused, Nack's eyes widened, and he could see both Warden Renders and Lieutenant Jeffers look at him differently now. The look was somewhere between awe, fear, and disbelief.

The wolf reached up and felt along his muzzle, before tearing off his alterations. He looked over to Drago again, who was still staring at him in confusion.

"For those of you whose mental capacities have not yet progressed beyond the third grade, I'll spell it out for you real simple-like." He paused and smiled. "I am one of those cloned super soldiers that the new Mandalorian Army has cranked out. You know… one of those genetically engineered warriors that are being used to conquer the world. Born in a test tube, taught how to kill from the moment we can walk." He looked at Nack and bared his fangs. "Ringing any bells? Come on, I know you're down here in the bum end of nowhere, but I'm sure you've heard that much of the outside world."

"Sooooo, you must be here for him, then," He waved his pistol at Antoine. "The question is, why? Why would your kind be interested in him, and why would they only send one of you to get him out?"

The gun pressing into his back slipped downwards just a bit, as the felon relaxed just a bit. Mistake number three.

Bendark heard a curse from outside, and knew what it meant. Blaster fire followed.

"Who said there was only one of me?" he inquired.

Nack stared at him for a moment, and it was then that the Clone acted. His arm snapped backwards and grabbed the pistol that was hanging from the bodyguard's belt. The man instinctively moved to stop him, but his strength was no match for the wolf's. Bendark shoved a finger into the holster. The weapon was hot and primed. He pulled the trigger, and a bolt of energy tore through the holster and right into the man's foot. He howled and fell backwards, clutching at his stump. The Mandalorian grabbed both the pistol and the carbine before they could hit the floor, and fired off a couple more shots at Nack's feet. The weasel somersaulted out of the way and then dove behind the cover of the Warden's desk, and they splashed harmlessly against the floor.

At the same time, Antoine flicked his wrist, and his blade fell down into his hand. The bodyguard behind him never even reacted before it was buried into his heart.

A roar came from Drago and the enormous wolf lunged forward. Bendark tried to get his carbine lined up, but only managed one shot. It made a glancing wound in his shoulder, but didn't even begin to slow him down. He slammed into the Clone, knocking the two weapons from his hands and propelling both of them against the wall. Bendark fought back, wrapping his arms around the other wolf and smashing his knees up into his gut. The prisoner was like a demon though, and ignored the pain that the actions brought.

Antoine spun around and kicked the other guard to the ground, a move his wife had shown him. He was about to turn and help Marty when he saw Nack spring back up. The hit man had lost some of his skills during his years in the prison, but his aim was apparently not one of them. A bolt flew from his gun and hit Bendark square in the back. The wolf snarled, but his body armor held against the shot.

Not having anything else to work with, Antoine reached for the only weapon he had. His knife sailed end over end towards the weasel. Nack saw it coming though, and ducked back underneath the desk as it imbedded itself into the wood paneling behind it.

The coyote charged forward, determined to get in range before he could pop back up. The contents on the top of Renders' desk went flying as he skidded across it and came down right on top of the purple furred weasel. Caught by surprise, Nack found his weapon knocked from his grasp. Antoine tried to bring his knife in, but the weasel was able to twist it out of his hand. The two of them rolled over and into the wall as they struggled back and forth, Nack desperately trying to keep the coyote's cybernetic arm from being brought into the fight.

Marty found himself overpowered, though. The fifty year old man was no match for what he was up against. The three remaining prisoners had him down on the ground, and he knew that his life was about to end. He closed his eyes, waited for the inevitable.

There was a loud boom, a shockwave that tossed him forward a few feet. This was followed by a cry of surprise, a blaster shot, and then he felt blood on his face. He was certain he was dead. But then, if he was gone to the next life, why did his body still hurt?

He opened his eyes in time to see one of the convicts stumble back over him, and a headless corpse bleeding all over the floor. A large shadow passed over him, heavy boots thudding against the floor. A yelp of surprise, and he twisted just in time to see a massive armored figure plowing into the third prisoner, who had apparently managed to land on his feet. The ferret squealed loudly as he tried to get his balance, but the hulking metal shield and the high speed of the Clone behind it prevented him from doing so. The man screamed as he looked back and saw the wall of the office rapidly approaching. Marty winced as he saw the impact. A wet cracking sound, something like the combination of snapping wood and a water balloon popping reached his ears. The Clone backed away and the broken corpse fell to the ground, blood leaking out of both sides of its mouth.

He heard a howl of pain, and looked over. Drago was reeling back from where Bendark was, one hand covering his right eye. Blood seeped out from between the fingers, staining the fur crimson. The other wolf wasted no time. His combat training was in full gear. Take advantage of any situation, use anything at your disposal, was the mantra that Jaster and the others had drilled into his head over and over again.

The timber wolf leaned in, his jaws open wide, darting towards his opponent's exposed throat. Too late, Drago realized the danger he was in, as Bendark's razor sharp fangs closed around his neck. The Mandalorian twisted his head, and then ripped away. Blood went everywhere as he took most of Drago's throat and jugular veins with him.

"No please!" The final prisoner, another canine, begged. A Clone Trooper hovered over him, a large, menacing double bladed weapon held in its hands.

The weapon dove, and the man's pleas for mercy were cut off in mid sentence.

That just left Antoine and Nack.

The two of them were still rolling around on the ground, flopping over so quickly that the Clone standing next to them didn't dare shoot.

Antoine managed to get his knee in-between the weasel's, and then drove it upwards. Nack howled in pain, but true to his species, hung on. His eyes narrowed, and his head shot forward. His needle like teeth sunk into Antoine's shoulder. The coyote gasped, his real eye going wide in pain. He twisted about, and tried to dislodge himself from the hold, but only succeeded in tearing the wound open. Blood was flowing freely down his shoulder, and twisted up as he was, his cybernetic arm was pinned underneath him. His organic one was still left, though, and the former general saw his opportunity.

Antoine snaked one hand around Nack's skull and latched on. The muscles of his left arm bulged, and too late, the weasel realized the danger. Frantically, he released his hold from Antoine's shoulder, and tried to worm in towards something more vital, but he couldn't break the hold that the coyote had on him. Nack had time for one final scream, half terror, half rage, before a loud snap echoed through the room. Grunting, Antoine kicked the lifeless body off of him. It hit the wall and stopped, the neck hanging at an odd angle.

Panting, he looked up, and saw a pair of Clones in front of him. The larger of the two extended a hand down towards him. As he was pulled to his feet, he looked around the room. The stench of death hung heavy in the air, and blood was all over the area near the entrance. The smaller Clone saluted him, and he noticed the blood stained Zhaboka in its left hand.

"Sir, Sergeant MC-2469 'Shysa' at your disposal. Good to see you again." She moved to parade rest. "But as much as I'd love to reminisce about old times, we need to get you out of here." She turned and looked back over her shoulder. "Vizsla, Raz, get him suited up."

"Just a sec, almost done with Ben over here." The demolitions expert called.

Antoine saw most of the group swarming around the smart mouthed Clone, slapping on armor plates and fixing him up with a Neo Crusader sub machinegun. Two more were helping out lieutenant Jeffers and Warden Renders.

"You shouldn't have problems for much longer, Warden." Shysa said as she walked over. She placed an armored hand against his face, examining his injuries. "No sign of brain damage."

"Wha—what are you talking about?" the lynx shook his head, obviously confused. A lot had happened in the past two minutes.

"We've cut quite a path through the battles to get here. You're guards are just stunned, though." She examined his wrist. "Our leader will be joining us shortly, and I've got the feeling that once they meet him, these convicts are going to go running back to their cells and lock themselves inside." She caught the look of disbelief that he was shooting her. "He's the kind of soldier that makes us look like a dirt farmer militia."

She noticed Jeffers looking at her, and noted the confusion upon her face. The Clone just smiled behind her helmet, and said nothing else.

"Feels good to be back in this thing." Bendark flexed a gauntleted hand, and then double checked his SMG.

The swarm of Clones moved over to Antoine, bringing out body armor and a weapon. Ben, meanwhile, headed over to Marty. The mouse was sporting a few bruises, but seemed okay aside from that.

"Well, buddy, I hate to just have to leave you here…" he trailed off, and put his hand down to his belt. He pulled out his pistol, flipped it around, and handed it to the loyalist prisoner in one fluid motion. The mouse took it, starring down at the massive sidearm. Bendark fished out a couple of reloads. "Thirty six shots per clip on the standard power setting. No need to amp it up any more than that, though. Standard's enough that even with the body armor these guys are wearing, one shot will make sure that they are not going to be getting back up."

"Uhhh, thanks." The mouse scratched the back of his head.

"No problem," the grenadier tapped two fingers to the visor of his helmet. "We'll do our best to make sure that the road is ploughed on our way back out."

"Why are you doing this?" Lt. Jeffers asked, as another Clone made a final check to ensure that she wasn't hurt.

"Let's just say we're on the same side." Shysa smiled inside of her helmet. She then turned to Renders. "Well, Sir, it's been a barrel of laughs, but we've got to blow this icebox." She kicked a B-5 over towards him.

"How do we know that we can trust you?" The warden asked, bending down to pick up the weapon.

"Because we didn't kill you," the Clone leader replied.

With that, they raced back out the door and towards the courtyard.

It wasn't long before the group ran into another roadblock. In one of the large communal areas of the prison the guards and convicts were still firing away at each other. Not about to expose their charge to unnecessary danger, Shysa opened up a line to her commander.

"Boss, we need a way past this," she said.

"Relax, I've got it covered." The distorted, semi-electronic voice said.

"Who are you?" Antoine asked as he nervously handled his gun, running his fingers across the hand grip.

The voice chuckled. "You're going to find out in about four seconds."

The coyote arched and eyebrow, confused by the cryptic message. He opened his mouth to speak, but a groaning noise cut him off. At the far end of the communal area, off to the side of where the fighting was occurring, the pressure doors warped and twisted, before flying off of their tracks. They sailed through the room bouncing along and tearing huge gashes in the floor, before coming to thundering halt at the far end.

The fighting stopped as everyone looked to see what had caused such destruction.

Antoine saw the blurred figure emerge from the darkness, the heat like distortion, and his breath caught in his throat. The guards and convicts looked on in confusion, while the Mandalorian soldiers seemed to bristle with pride. The cloak began to waver and fade as the figure drew closer, and then it faded away altogether. Gunmetal gray armor, a black, mirrored visor, the hilts of two Kaiburr swords visible over his shoulder, the weapons mounted on the forearms and the wickedly serrated vibro claws.

Antoine brought his hand to his cybernetic arm.

The people in the prison gasped in horror, their skin going pale beneath their fur.

All across Mobotropolis, people watched their screens, television or holovid, and drew family members closer, hugged children tight, and felt their breath catch in their throats.

Shysa brought her hand up to a salute. "Commander Norrack."

In Sally's room, Tails' mouth fell open, and he started to hyperventilate. It couldn't be, he was dead! The scars on his arms suddenly started to burn, as if the fire still licked at them. He shook his head, trying to clear the image from his mind. It was all an illusion. He was seeing things, hearing things. His mind was playing tricks on him. Then he looked over to his two squad mates. Mina and Joshua had mirror images of shock on their faces. He turned and look to his two aunts. Surprise and shock was on their faces as well, but there was something in Sally's eyes that seemed odd. He ignored it for now, though, and turned his attention back to the screen.

The camera wasn't changing as it had before, flipping around to rooms, corridors, and cell blocks at random. It stayed there, focused on the ARC trooper that had seemingly defied death. Tails looked at the soldier, tried to find some proof that it was a hoax, an imitation, that it was really just Shadow or some Clone in a fancy get up. But no, Shadow's armor was black, and there was something else, something he couldn't place.

The visor was looking right at the camera, and Tails felt as if it was a drill, boring into him. He took a step back, couldn't stop himself.

"Threat level ascertained: minimal."

The voice shook any lingering doubts from his mind. The voice that was imbedded into his mind, burned into his soul. The voice of the thing that had nearly killed him, nearly killed all of them in a ruthless, macabre version of a hunt.

How? Was the question that screamed through his mind.

Back in the War Room, Geoffrey, Elias, and Max sat, discussing this recent turn of events, when they heard those words echo over the holoscreen. All of them twisted and looked up at the screen, and the person that it showed. Their jaws dropped open in disbelief as they saw Norrack draw his blades and ignite them, blue white fire springing up from the hilts.

"Impossible," Max breathed, his eyes wide and his hands drooping by his sides.

Back at Devil's Gulag, the two parties not aware of the cyborg's continued existence were thinking much the same. But their eyes did not lie; the Angel of Death was indeed among them.

Underneath the armor suit, Sonic prepared himself. He let his mind relax, and reminded himself that the rest of the world had to be prepared for what his brother would bring. He had to show them what the other ARC would be capable of, or the Goddess only knew how many would fall trying to take him down.

All at once, they seemed to suddenly realize their danger, and they snapped out of their trances. Carbines and T-21 blasters were pointed at him, and the guards and prisoners alike opened fire. The ARC trooper blasted into action, his blades whirling around so quickly they looked like glowing turbines. Bolts impacted as he ran forward, rebounding off of the weapons and heading straight for his intended targets: the group of about thirty prisoners on the far side of the room. The guards were forced to duck as his caster came up and sprayed them with bursts of stunning fire. Two weren't fast enough, and fell unconscious before the attacks.

A felon howled in agony as a crimson plasma bolt streaked back into his arm. He dropped his weapon, his eyes clamped shut as he tried to drive the pain away, before another deflected bolt silenced him. On the other side of the room, a guard leveled a T-21 with the cyborg, only to hear an unearthly screech of straining metal and find his weapon rendered useless as the barrel was bent out of shape by some unseen force. He gasped and tried to draw a sidearm, for all the good it would do against this reborn foe.

The killing machine had already closed the distance and was now among the prisoners. They were screaming in panic, which quickly turned to pain and denial as the deadly energy blades went to work. A female raised her weapon, tried to line up the soldier for a blast. She wasn't fast enough, he was already in the air above her. A final scream of terror left her throat as the blades closed in. Norrack spun in a forward flip and drew the Kaiburr swords downward in an X fashion. The prisoner slid apart, her body effortlessly hacked to pieces.

Before her body parts hit the ground, he was already to the second target. The man had his weapon leveled and fired off a four round burst. The ARC's blades intercepted them, bouncing two of them back into his legs, another two into a different prisoner three meters to his right. The bear roared and dropped his weapon, his right hand reduced to a charred stump at his wrist. The cyborg focused back on his initial target. Before the man could fire a second burst, a metal boot had been planted into his face. Bones snapped and crunched beneath the strength of the blow, and the convict's head seemed to fly apart, spattering bits of brain and gore everywhere.

Norrack threw his left blade end over end and it buried itself into a prisoner's chest. He died almost instantly, his heart run through. At the same time, two others screamed as they were lifted into the air by an unseen power. The two of them slammed into one another, and then up into the ceiling, before being hurled across the room. They slammed into a metal support column with enough force that their bodies were pulverized. They were dead before they even began to fall towards the ground.

Norrack had struck down another at the same time, his vibro claws unsheathed as he slashed open his abdomen. The shredded remains of the prisoner's bowels went everywhere, and he reached out a hand and made a grab for them, but most spilled through his fingers as he collapsed.

Another convict tried to race past him, all thoughts of fighting back abandoned. The ARC trooper jumped over to one side to throw off the aims of those still blasting at him, sent another burst of stunning fire over towards the guards to force them to drop their heads, and moved to intercept the fleeing convict. He caught up in a fraction of a second, and struck. His claws sawed into the man's flesh, femur, and tendons, removing his leg cleanly. The prisoner started to fly up into the air, his body off balance by the sudden removal of his limb. So quickly that it almost looked alike a single motion, Norrack reared back and dug his claws into the man's chest, before raking them back towards his armored body. A puddle of blood and bits of shredded organs formed at his feet as his claws retracted. He twisted, firing off a three round burst of bolter fire, and simultaneously extended his arm to catch his Kaiburr sword. Armed with both blades again, he rushed back into their midst, deflecting weapons fire left and right.

His shoulder cannon moved back towards them, a simple thought changing the power setting up to a lethal dosage. Two shots, from the top and bottom barrels. Before the prisoners could even blink, pain ripped through their bodies. Just before their eyes snapped shut, they were able to look down, and they say the massive hole that had been left in their chests. The ARC trooper smirked behind his helmet as he looked through the holes into the terrified eyes of the remaining convicts.

The barrage of fire they through at him was as ineffective as ever. He dodged and weaved around their aim, deflecting plasma rounds and letting a couple get through his defenses to impact upon his shields. The power bar in the upper left of his HUD didn't even flux as the energy was taken in. Two more found themselves lifted into the air, helpless before his psionic powers. They struggled for a moment or two, before a loud crunching sound echoed through the room, audible even above the chaos that the cyborg was causing. The bodies fell back to the floor, broken and lifeless.

One of the guards fired a four shot burst at him, but the commando had already spun out of the way of the aim and set his blades into motion. Two prisoners fell, their heads vaporized by the deflected shots. Another one attempted to bolt past him, but didn't make it far before the wrist mounted rocket launcher caught him. The warhead exploded, taking out another woman standing too close. The cyborg could sense the fear increasing all around him. It was etched in their faces, drawn up into horrified gasps, and the look in their eyes, the fearful denial of the knowledge that they weren't going to walk away from this. The way that their bodies were shaking as they furiously backpedaled away from him. The way their shots were flying around with ever increasing panic, missing their target without him even needing to dodge in some cases.

The ARC trooper shot past another convict, his vibro claws extended to neck height. The headless corpse tumbled to the ground as he spun around ad hit another man dead on in the chest with his caster. The purple bolt of energy cored him, blasting his body away into the wall. His sabers hummed through the air once again, both of them ripping into a pair of targets. Another convict went sailing through the air, her last screams cut off quickly as her head was smashed against a pipe as if by an invisible hand.

More bolts slammed into him, and the ARC trooper made no move to avoid them. It was as if he wanted everyone there to know that there was nothing they could do to stop him.

Two more men were blasted apart, nearly cremated by precision shots as the cyborg jumped up against the wall and then pushed off. He flipped over and caught his blades again in mid air, before landing amid two convicts. The felons tried to dive out of the way, but their reflexes were no match for a born and bred killing machine. They died without a cry, sliced to pieces by the fury of the super soldier.

The opposition was nearly nonexistent at this point, the prisoners were crying out in fear at the merciless machine they were up against, and the guards had stopped firing entirely. The ARC trooper launched himself at the nearest of the two concentrations left. The first one died to his caster, and the second found himself ripped apart by a pair of horizontal slashes from his energy blades. The third fell to the ground as the cyborg's plated foot smashed into her chest, crushing her organs and ribcage. A vault over the next bit enabled him to remove the man's head from his shoulders with his right blade. The final member went down as Norrack drove his vibro claws into the man's guts.

There was only one small group left now, a meager fraction of the original thirty. In the blink of an eye, the ARC trooper had sheathed a blade and brought his left arm up. White hot fire suddenly sprang to life along the length of his left arm. The guards backed away, crying out at the intense light and the searing heat that they could feel even from forty feet away. The remaining six prisoners poured fire into the cyborg with all the fury they could muster, but he didn't even move. His shields flared around him, pulsing and crackling, but doing nothing other than that.

He extended his hand, and the flames shot towards them. Their screams were loud, horrifying, and mercifully cut off as the stream hit them. Their bodies were cremated in an instant, reduced to ash, their weapons mere puddles of molten slag and cooked circuitry.

The guards and those watching the carnage through the cameras all paused in dread filled awe at what they had witnessed. The trooper's black visored gaze drifted around the room, taking in the sight of the terrified guards, and then moving over to the Clones and the man they were escorting. He started to move towards them, deactivated and sheathing his remaining blade. The entire slaughter had taken less than a minute.

Back in Sally's room, Tails' breath was coming in deep, ragged pants. Memories of fire, of Norrack standing over him with those talons ready to bury themselves into his heart plucked at him, and he kept rubbing the ends of his arms where his scars were. His mouth was dry, his throat felt parched, and his heart was hammering wildly in his chest. Finally, he was able to open his mouth.

"Since… since when could he do stuff like that?" The fox forced the words past his lips as he watched the cyborg on the screen. "Throw people through the air like that, make those flames?"

"I'm not sure, sugar fox," Bunnie said as her nose twitched. She reached her real hand up towards the screen as she saw Antoine again. Her fingers rushed over him as he stared at Norrack. Silently, she prayed that he would find it in his heart to trust the man behind that armor.

"Pleased to make your acquaintance again, General D'Coolette," the cyborg saluted as he addressed the coyote. "If you'll follow us, we've got a drop ship out of this ice cube."

Everyone watched as Antoine paused for a second or two, his face shifting through a myriad of different emotions over the course of a few seconds. Finally, his face hardened and he nodded.

"Lead the way, Commander." He tucked himself back in amongst the super commando escort.

"You heard the General, move!" Norrack barked, and then twisted about. His swords flew out of their sheathes and into his hands.

The Clones filed in behind him, shield carriers to the front and rear. The prison guards just stood where they were, their jaws opened in wide mouthed shock as they were completely ignored and the entourage rushed by them.

As soon as the group had left, a moment of silence settled. It lasted for five seconds, and then it began, an uproar the likes of which had not been seen in years. News anchors shouted for information and data. Military analysts and commanders began to rewind the footage of the cyborg in action, while computers began to scan everything available to try and obtain data on a weakness the ARC trooper may have presented. The War Room dissolved into an uproar as the three men in it tried to fathom exactly what had happened, while Geoffrey scrambled aerial reinforcements to the prison, though he knew that they would never reach it in time to stop the Mandalorians and their commander from escaping.

Bunnie had to stop herself from breathing a sigh of relief as she watched her husband leave with Sonic and the others. Any small slip could give away the role that Sally had had in the planning of the operation. She mentally crossed her fingers, and hoped for the best. The worst of the opposition was gone, and if her memories of the prison's plans were correct, they would have almost a clean run to the landing area in the court yard.

That was indeed the case for the strike team. They emerged through the blast door to find another four inches of snow had accumulated during their time inside, and that Marcus' team was down behind cover. Aside from that, no energy bolts lit up the blizzard.

"You are clear, Commander Norrack, ready to receive our VIP," Marcus said from where he was. "Catwalk doors are still locked down, that ion cannon's a handy little thing."

"Move!" The ARC ordered. He couldn't sense any opposition around here, and he knew they were clear.

Shysa and the rest of the Cuy'val Dar rushed forward, their shields angled to protect Antoine from any attack. It took them seconds to reach the LAATs. Antoine was the first one up, clambering inside as the Clones formed a defensive ring around him. Three at a time, they piled up into the ship, the soldiers with the shields staying until last.

"Marcus, get your team mobile, repeaters and snipers last, then I'll hop on." Sonic said, turning back to face the prison, his weapons armed and ready. The wind howled around him as he stood there, bits of snow gathering on his shoulders while other flakes turned to super heated steam as they came into contact with his Kaiburr swords.

The Clone troopers withdrew, their weapons pointed towards the catwalks and guard towers, just in case of any last minute surprises. Finally, the snipers and the two Clones carrying repeaters withdrew to the LAATs. The ships began to rise into the air, scattering snow everywhere as their repulsors kicked in. Only then did the ARC trooper begin to backpedal. He hen leapt up into the air and landed squarely in the troop area of the ship. The doors slid shut behind him, and the interior of the drop ships were bathed in the red lights of the interior.

Breathing a sigh of relief, he made his way to the front of the troop section and leaned back into a seat. Antoine was across the bay from him, the coyote's eyes staring right into his own.

Several minutes passed in utter silence until the General at last broke it.

"You are supposed to be dead." He crossed his arms over his chest and arched an eyebrow at the cyborg across from him.

"You're right, General. I should be dead. No less than nine times I've encountered a situation when I should have died, but somehow haven't. I guess someone upstairs must still like me." A bitter and derisive laugh followed the statement. "However, you trusted me, despite the fact that I tried to kill you and everyone you loved a decade ago…" the cyborg looked down at the floor and cradled one hand on his kneecap. "That kind of trust shouldn't be just one way."

"What do you mean?" Antoine asked.

"You trusted me with your life, despite everything. And so in return I am going to trust you with something that only a handful of people outside of my brothers and sisters know: my identity."

There was a jet of pressurized air, looking like hellish steam in the crimson light of the drop ship's interior. Curious, Antoine leaned forward, not daring to blink as the ARC removed his helmet. He watched it slide upwards, centimeter by centimeter. He saw the fur, the start of a jaw line, and the start of the scars. Then it cleared completely.

Silence filled the LAAT. No one said a word. Antoine's eyes never widened, his expression never changed. His mind was similar. Sonic couldn't pick up a trace of what was going on from the surface, and he didn't want to probe deeper.

Finally, after what seemed to be an eternity, Antoine straightened up a little bit. "How did you survive?" He kept his tone neutral as ever.

"I'm not sure," the hedgehog said. He leaned back against his seat with a sigh. His milky white eyes drifted over to his friend from what seemed a lifetime ago. "I think it was my… abilities."

A medkit on the wall vibrated slightly, and then floated over to where he was sitting.

"I remember a lot of pain, Buttnik staring down at me, laughing…" he started.

"So Sally and Mon Cherie are aware of your continued existence?" Antoine tapped a finger against his chin.

"Sal helped plan this Op," Sonic said, "Bunnie was the first one to find out who I was. That's why she was willing to help me bail Sal and Saria out when Shadow got his hands on them."

"And these are the same Cuy'val Dar responsible for that," he pointed to Shysa, asleep over on the far wall.

"Yep, with a little help from my father, we were able to take the chip out of their head and get them on our side. They don't fancy leaving their brothers and sisters to be enslaved."

The General remained silent for some moments, and Sonic felt as if the moment of judgment was approaching. Antoine rose form his seat and made his way over to the hedgehog, before sitting down next to him.

"I used to hate your memory, because of what you'd done to everyone… because of what you did to Bunnie. But, but you were a prisoner too. Part of me still wants to hate you because of everything you've done, but the other half doesn't. You've been through hell for us once again, Sonic…" he looked up at his friend from what felt like a lifetime ago, "I don't know how much help I can be, now, but if you'll let me…" he trailed off.

Sonic's face broke into the familiar crooked grin that Antoine remembered so well at Knothole.

"I'd be honored, Ant," the hedgehog said, punching his old friend lightly on the shoulder. "We need another good strategic planner to figure out how to put the freed Clones to good use. We should be back soon, and then I'll have Shysa and the others show you around."

"What about yourself?"

"I've got a little visit to pay to a certain striped individual," Antoine could tell that Sonic had just rolled his eyes. "Sal's afraid that Geoff's going to try to use the footage of the prison break to prove that you were in cahoots with Shadow. I've got to head him off."

Antoine simply nodded, and could only fathom what Sonic might have in store for the skunk. For the first time in years, the coyote almost felt sorry for him.

Half a world away, Jaster was standing in front of a double sealed blast door. The timber wolf had a hand against the chin of his helmet, his right elbow propped up by his left hand. His thoughts were racing about how to explain what they had seen on the holonet just a few hours ago. Shadow had locked himself inside of this room with orders not to be disturbed, and while the Mandalore had no desire to get on his employer's bad side, he knew that this information was vital. He could hardly believe it himself, the sight of the Devil's Gulag being overrun by his own Clones.

How had Sonic gotten them on his side? How had the hedgehog managed to turn them against their original cause?

The silver armored warrior shook his head. There would be time to try to figure that out later. Right now, he had to inform Shadow of Snively's progress with their latest project.

He entered his key code and the door slide open. Jaster stepped inside and found himself in a holodeck. Blue and white lines crisscrossed the room, and the soldier found it oddly reminiscent of what a data feed must have looked like. The only exception to this was a figure in the middle of the room. It was an Overlander female, blonde haired and with a pair of sparkling blue eyes. A pair of glasses were on the edge of her small nose, and a gentle smile on her face.

However, the Mandalore was more concerned with the black robed figure in front of her. He couldn't see Shadow's face as the ARC turned to face him, but he could feel the rage burning inside of him. Invisible fingers gripped around his throat, not enough to completely cut off his air supply, but sufficient to make breathing difficult. Jaster refused to let fear consume him, and remained where he was, staring straight into the blackness underneath the cowl of Shadow's robe. He kept eye contact, and checked the instinctive urge to draw his weapons and fight back against the threat. Shadow was capable of utterly demolishing any resistance that he might put up. Jaster had seen the black hedgehog in action often enough to know that.

"You know better than to disturb me when I request to be alone, Jaster," The Mandalore felt the fingers tighten slightly. "What is so important that you must intrude upon my sanctuary?"

"The Devil's Gulag has been attacked," the timber wolf said, his voice calm. "General D'Coolette was freed from prison."

"Looks like you weren't the only one who wanted to spring him from that place." Shadow's cloak shifted about himself.

"As I said, he could be a valuable asset…"

"Oh, come off it, Jaster, don't try to fool me." Shadow shook his head. "You and I both know that he's a scapegoat, and that grated on you. You couldn't stand to see such a worthy adversary hung out to dry like that." Jaster could tell that his employer was rolling his eyes. "But that alone is not why you have come, is it? I can sense more inside of you."

"Sonic was the one who did it." Jaster felt the invisible grip around his throat suddenly disappear. "He was being assisted by Cuy'val Dar."

"What?" the ARC Trooper roared. In an instant, he had blurred up to where Jaster was standing. "Clone black ops soldiers? Assisting him?"

"We are as baffled as you are, Sir. It doesn't seem to be possible," The Mandalore shrugged his shoulders.

"He must have found some way to disable the neural chip," Shadow scratched at his hidden chin. "We'll need another failsafe, in that case… perhaps a kill gene, send out a signal code and have it terminate Clones who are MIA."

"Far more likely he just reprogrammed the chip for his own uses," Jaster added hastily. Shadow stared up at him, and the soldier felt tendrils probing at his mind. "We have reason to suspect that Sally and some other key members of the government are not only aware of his true identity, but may be supplying him with covert shipments of weaponry."

"Indeed…" Shadow trailed off, and looked around. "How is Jonathan—'

"Nearly finished. He suspects in another forty eight hours, we'll be ready to launch." Jaster said.

"Good, tell him to have the crews ready to move out by that time. Now," he turned back around, "leave me."

The Mandalore saluted and quickly retreated from the holodeck. Shadow said nothing, but turned back to the image in front of him.

&

Well, hope it was worth the delay. I want to once again thank everyone who's been willing to put up with my inability to update lately, and as always, feedback is appreciated, especially constructive criticism. However, ideas on story events and weapons/vehicles and even flames are also accepted. Hope everyone has a great summer, for those of you on vacation, for those of you who are not, best of luck in life. Hope to see everyone again soon, and stay safe until then