"You can't do this! I got friends!"

Silver pursed his lips and tilted his head slightly. The mobian currently held in his telekinetic vice made a good point. Then again, the fact that his entire gang of friends, eighteen in all, were scattered around their estate headquarters in various states of incapacitation… it didn't exactly bolster his argument that much. Silver's fingers twitched, and the sole remaining mobian raccoon suspended in midair struggled to move.

"I really couldn't care less who your friends are," the hedgehog finally decided. Turning his hand, so it was palm up, he lifted his fingers. The raccoon slammed into the ceiling and stuck there.

Pimping and whoring was one thing…

But gang bangers really did cross the line. Silver took a few steps forward, snapping wood underfoot as he trampled one of the gang's fallen masterpieces. Like so many others, they had fondly branded every available surface with their trademark symbols, and if anything, this gang had to be the worst of the lot. The so called "Bad Artists," they seemed to be emulating some sort of new age impressionist phase. Splotches of paint covered the walls, the floors, and every other surface; broken only by scribbled signatures.

They had been getting a little party together to celebrate a new work of art. Silver added a few dirty footprints to it as he walked over to check out the far end of the room. He could just see the edge of a dirty mattress, dumped on the floor. The two young females he had caught sight of earlier – being forced into the building – one the feline and the other lapine, were huddled together. They looked shaken but unhurt.

"Hey!" he barked at them. "Get out of here! Don't just sit there staring at me!"

One of them looked ready to bolt, but the other cringed.

"What? I'm here to rescue…oh! This," he finally realized, and turned off his telekinesis. The eerie glow that had run up his arm and engulfed his hand faded. "See? Nothing to scared of!"

"Dat's what you think asshole!"

Silver sighed, glancing over his shoulder at the gang boss from before. "You're still conscious?"

On the floor, the raccoon struggled to get back up on hands and knees. Outside, Silver could hear the roar of engines. "You little prick…! I told you I got friends!"

That seemed to shock the two girls into moving, at least. The feline bolted first, dragging the rabbit girl off with her. Silver rolled his eyes. There was no point in biding a discrete exit, given the ruckus he'd already caused. So he put his hands on his hips and waited.

"OOOOOOOOO WEEE!" a high pitched voice jeered, just as the doors to the central room slammed open. Silver cocked an eyebrow at the mobian's appearance. A mink, male, he wore tie dyed bell bottom pants, hot red, and an open vest in the same blazing color. What could only be some sort of golden chain ran down his chest. Assorted piercings covered his ears, lower lip, his navel, and yes: even his tongue, which he promptly stuck out and put on display.

The mink snapped his fingers, and another mobian of the same breed, but in only slightly less ostentatious dress, emerged carrying that could only be a boom box. Kneeling down in front of the first mink, he held out the oversized stereo system.

"I'm too sexy for my love,
Too sexy for my love,
Love's going to leave me.
I'm too sexy for my shirt,
Too sexy for my shirt,
So sexy it hurts…"

Silver's expression fell. "Oh come on!"

The mink laughed starkly. He then struck a pose, and pointed at the hedgehog. "I can totally dig the hair, man. Very futuristic. And those treads? Totally rad! Voice is a little funny, but…" The mink's luxurious locks trailed through the air as he shook his head. "The world's most sensual, super sexy Dance Master, Rory K. Rokk, acknowledges you as a well dressed enemy worth fighting!"

"I'm a model you know what I mean,
And I do my little turn on the catwalk,
Yeah on the catwalk on the catwalk yeah,
I do my little turn on the catwalk…"

"Are you serious?" Silver gave a sad sigh, and blinked. By the time he opened his eyes, a strangled cry filled his ears, almost drowning out the music. Eyes wandering to his left, he saw the raccoon boss of the Bad Artists lying on a pool of blood. The time traveler then turned back to the new arrival, who had drawn a different sort of handgun, and who now seemed to be happily twirling it around his fingers.

That had… actually pretty damn fast.

"And I'm too sexy for my hat,
Too sexy for my hat,
What do you think about that?"

Rory K. Rokk snickered, as his 'well dressed' men stormed the building. The mink stopped twirling his gun, and leveled it at Silver.

"This here territory is now part of our dance floor!" he gleefully declared. "And we'll put a light show on for anyone crashing the party uninvited!"

"NOW!" he suddenly yowled. "Let's get this party started!!"

Silver didn't wait for him to finish. Holding out both hands, he telekinetically uprooted a nearby television, and the Bad Artist's own radio. Propelling the two towards R.K. Rokk, he immediately started to move, as the other Dance Freaks tried to get a bead on him. The TV hit head on, plowing into the boom box operator and sending him flying. R.K. Rokk, however, made a graceful pivot and flourish, avoiding the radio by inches.

A great grin spread across his face. "Light him up, Freaks!!"

He gave the laser pistol in his hand one last quick spin, before opening fire. Invisible pulses of light, identifiable only by the occasional tracer round, scorched the ground as Silver ran, uprooting and tossing every fixture he could find. Spinning to his left, Silver clutched his hands, enveloping one of the gangsters in an artist's tarp, before throwing him out a window. Spinning to his right, he gestured upwards, and a fallen wooden column rose to block several laser rounds that scored and burned the surface. Sending the column spinning, rolling even, with a flick of his finger, Silver then sent it flying into two more of the Dance Freaks trying to get around and encircle him.

"You want to hear my music?" Silver yelled, feeling a laser nick his arm, leaving a dark burn. "Listen to THIS!"

Straining, he raised his arms, fingers curled. All around him, wooden planks and panels tore up, while nails popped out of their resting places, filling the air with shrapnel. Crossing his arms, the hailstorm intensified - the air crackling with chaos energy. Finally extending one hand; the wave of debris crashed into two well armed gangsters shooting from behind cover. Even out of sight, they became engulfed in the churning nail-filled winds. Silver pulled his arm back, and directed it towards their boss. R.K. Rokk smirked, and pirouetted, snatching up the unconscious boom box operator to use as a shield.

Silver saw him taking aim, and without thinking, tried to erect a telekinetic barrier. Too late, he remembered that while effective against bullets or even some particle weapons, it would be useless against a beam of coherent light. He cringed as the Rokk got in a clean hit, burning his arm and shoulder. Silver's telekinetic control weakened, and the barrage he had pulled together fell to the ground. He still wasn't used to fighting so many opponents at the same time, while not using his powers to lethal effect…

Thinking quickly, he tore up a dozen planks of wood and hastily threw them in a wave at the remaining Dance Freaks. Another of them screamed, a heavily piece of wood still plastered to his face. Another yelped and ducked for cover.

"WOOO!" R.K. Rokk tossed aside his mobian shield, cheerfully twirling his laser pistol. "I put on a good light show, but you…! You really know how to bring down the house!"

He fired again, just as Silver pulled together several planks to form a makeshift wall. Except the beam was powerful enough to punch through. The invisible laser missed anything vital, but still singed Silver's right hand. He flinched and the wall fell apart.

"Time to end our little dance…" the Rokk leveled his weapon at the hedgehog. He wouldn't miss again. "You were sexy while you lasted, baby!"

Silver raised his hand, and seized the mink's body in a telekinetic vice.

"What…?" The Rokk's finger twitched, but couldn't move enough to pull the trigger. "What is this?"

"I got im, boss!" the gangster from before popped out, aiming his laser pistol with both hands. Silver's eyes widened as he tried to move his left arm, but it was numb and not responding. Moving his right hand, he tried to toss the Rokk at his underling, but knew it would probably be a second too late…

At which time the entire face of the building exploded.

Brick and mortar, wood and steel, filled the air as something crashed through the face of the estate house. Jumping for cover, and releasing his hold on the incomparable R.K. Rokk, Silver squinted his eyes through the dust. At first the cause of the interruption was impossible to discern, and then it started to move. A massive mechanical hand slammed into the ruined floor, helping to push the bulk of the body back upright. Red and black in color, it moved with a hiss of hydraulics and the creak of synthetic muscle fibers straining beneath armor plate.

Something moved on what had to be the main body, and explosions – no plumes of smoke but not explosions – erupted out of exposed chambers. Rockets, or maybe mini-missiles, flurried out and into the air. The deafening roar of explosions (this time there could be no doubt) and the sound of what could only be a metal spike hitting a steel wall at supersonic velocity, filled the room. Silver pushed aside a wooden beam that had fallen nearby, watching as the metal construct got back on its feet and dug itself out of the ruins of the house.

"WHO HA!" a familiar cry pierced the air. R.K. Rokk stood, one foot on his knocked out henchman, and one arm wrapped around his precious boom box, now perched on his left shoulder. "Now this is what I call a light show! Get up and DANCE, boys!!"

The plainly unhinged Dance Freak started firing madly, and with a collective groan of protest, the rest of his cadre tried to get up and join in. By this time, even some of the Bad Artists Silver had knocked out before, most of whom having wavered between fleeing and hiding, were getting back up and firing into the darkness. Green pulses of light came back in reply, tearing apart wood and brick.

Silver caught sight of a gangly form; an armored robotic torso, dull gray in color; with two spindly arms each ending in a large barreled cannon of some sort. A helmeted head of some sort, flat and circular, but with a luminous strip like a flattened cyclopean eye, turned to the left and then the right. Bullets hit its frame, but being merely handgun caliber, they bounced clean off. The lasers scored slightly more keenly, scarring the metal armor, and even knocking out one of the weapon arms.

'Eggman robots!' Silver thought to himself, and without thinking, he seized the robot and gave it a telekinetic push back and into one of its comrades. The things weren't really alive, so the time traveling hedgehog felt little need to hold back. The robots responded in kind, firing on anyone and anything that caught their fancy. Further away, the giant robot kept turning and firing at some other object of interest, this time with an arm mounted minigun.

It was a complete melee.

Scrambling out of the teetering remains of the building, still clutching his arm, Silver came face to face with another of the metal monstrosities. Pulling back his arm, he gave it a push, hoping to send it sprawling. But retractable claws in the robot's chicken-walker feet kept it from toppling over. Pushing again, Silver felt his mental focus begin to slip – the burns on his arm and shoulder were making it hard to concentrate. Finally, with a mental heave, he sent the automaton flying through a window, at the same time blowing a hole in the wall.

Carefully extraditing himself, avoiding the jagged wood that threatened to cut him further, Silver saw a bright light headed his way. All around him, he could hear fighting, as a general free for all engulfed the street. The bright light resolved into a pair of headlights, and an armored two wheel vehicle. The driver, a young looking female lapine, took off her helmet.

And held out her hand. "Sir! It isn't safe here!"

"Stand still, you little…!"

Tails flipped in midair, tails spinning and lifting him higher into the air. Ejecting the spent cartridge in his Love-II custom carbine, he changed the box magazine in midair, locking it into place. Then it returned to his shoulder, and his finger clenched on the trigger. The kick from the HVLP-AP (high velocity liquid propellant – armor piercing) ammo was incredible. Any normal mobian would have dislocated their shoulder firing it on anything but single shot mode. Tails fired in controlled three round bursts, as the digital readout on the top of the weapon counted down from forty.

Erupting from the white hot barrel with every shot fired was a single 6.9 millimeter ultra-high velocity bullet, accelerating past Mach 3 up to 4000 feet per second. On impact, the copper casing of the shell broke away, revealing a tungsten-carbide penetrator with a red mercury ignition tip. Three of these hit within one and a half inches of the same point, in this case, the sensor array mounted on the 'face' of one of the armored assault mechs.

The forty foot tall machine stumbled back from the combined impact force and damage, weapons firing blindly. Both shoulders 'opened,' with the armor plate folding back, launching explosive ordinance into the air. Exploding through the flak bursts, an orange blur hit one of the mech's hands, drilling through servos and steel before cutting through to the other side. The spinning sphere then resolved into an orange blur as Tails ran down the length of the extended arm, firing round after armor piercing round into the robot's upper torso and anthropomorphized face. Conical craters sprouted wherever it was hit, and then Tails leapt over the shoulder and latched into the head with his left hand. Spinning around, to the right, to the front, to the left, and back behind, his tails struck like a golden blur.

Jumping off the battle robot's back and flying through the air, Tails turned and watched as the massive machine lilted over to the side. After only a second, the head rolled back, held in place only by a few remaining uncut sparking cables. Fires lit up on the inside as it fell to its knees. Two more rockets shot out of its left chest before the head completely detached. The torso finally groaned and fell forward, burning and sparking.

Tails landed, too, catching his breath.

He didn't have spines like Sonic, but his tails could slice through damn near anything. And when they weren't handy, as they were in close quarters… Two Type-36 SWATbots raised their arms to fire on him, but he picked them off with snap shots to the torso. Unlike with the robian, which he had shot at with normal ball ammo, the SWATbots were each cored by a single armor defeating tungsten-carbide round. Propping himself up, and then getting back on his feet, he started to run as more shots rained down on his position.

Another Type-36 reared its cylon-like visage, both arms cannons blazing. Tails blocked with his tails, simply by reflex, and planted an AP round into its center of mass. The automaton flew back, landed on its feet, and then took another round that sent it tumbling, legs kicking wildly at the air. Tails wasn't terribly concerned by the SWATbots, even though they were the newest model.

Compared to the obsolete Type-30 SWATbots he remembered from his younger days, these new ones were vastly more deadly, but they were still vulnerable to impacts and projectile weaponry; their weapons systems relatively weak. Two years ago, the Eggman had attempted to upgrade roughly one in four Type-30s into Type-34s, to keep the design competitive. A SWATbot Final production version, the Type-36, was then built to wring the last bits of usefulness from the initial specs, and make some use out of the remaining production lines, but they were relatively few in number and rarely encountered in large numbers.

Snively had obviously been hoarding a few.

Taking a step and sliding into a spin, Tails slid across the ground past two more of the robots. He'd learned their blind spots through experience, and knew their peripheral vision was sub par. His tails relaxed, and behind him, the two Type-36s fell into four pieces, cut in half at the waist. His biggest concerns loomed nearby, just now cresting the hill far behind. The first was an E-class Armored EggFrame. Why Robotnick had this obsession with naming everything an egg-this or an egg-that, Tails didn't know (now weather phenomenon – that was a much cooler theme), but he was familiar with the two models now after him.

The E-class was a long range arty platform. Mounted on its right shoulder and integrated into its arm was a massive shotgun-style linear mass accelerator. A rail gun, in other words. Tails knew a single shot from it would punch clean through most anything, including himself. Not that he intended to give it the chance to ground itself and brace for a shot. The E-class also possessed a rather dangerous beam projector, and the usual assortment of short range mini-missiles.

He'd just taken care of the medium range D-class mech, with its mix of cluster missile and rapid fire ordinance. That left Snively in his G-class AEF. It was a close range model, designed to fight Sonic on even footing. The shield was the most annoying part; it was Morganite, making it effectively immune to chaos powered attacks, up to and including the spin dash. It would take something special to deal with that defense.

"Tails!"

He held out his hand, and caught Cream's as she raced by. Flipping over the driver's seat, he barely found room to stand behind the passenger's compartment. An albino – or was he just pale colored, like Cream – hedgehog seemed to be holding onto her and occupying the second seat. Tails examined him for all of a half second before noting that he had a laser burn on his arm. Then he refocused on the task at hand.

"There!" he pointed at the E-class battle mech. "Make a pass and then get out of here!"

"Right!" he heard.

"Prower! Code 16!" he yelled, triggering the voice activated weapons controls. "Alpha. Six. Alpha."

Cream handled the armored motorcycle well enough; she kept going, even when the armored shell to the sides of the cycle split. Two weapons popped up out of storage. Tails used his tails to catch and direct them into his hands. Still riding on the trailing end of the motorcycle, he took aim as the blasted across the open ground and near the left side of the towering artillery mech. Flipping one weapon over his shoulder by its strap, Tails hoisted the other tube shaped device.

The mech took a step back, opening fire with its torso-mounted mini missiles. Metallic fragments bounced off the armored plate of the combat motorcycle; even the clear windshield barely cracked under the force of the proximity explosions. Blasting through the conflagration, they swept just under the left side of the mech, and it was then that Tails fired. A streak of fire and ash, the tail of an anti-tank missile, climbed up and away, detonating in the junction between the E-class mech's shoulder arm and shoulder mounted rail gun.

Tails tossed aside the now spent launcher, and jumped off the motorcycle. Rolling as he hit the ground, he broke into a run. To his surprise, he found he wasn't alone. Keeping pace was the white hedgehog. That alone shouldn't have been possible. Unless…

'A chaos adept?' Tails wondered.

"Go!" the hedgehog yelled, holding out his good arm. "Now!"

His full attention back on the mech, Tails could see that some force – the newcomer no doubt – had lifted the armored frame's damaged arm, partly ruining its balance. Jumping into a spin dash, Tails plowed into and through an exposed section of the robot's body, up and across what would be called the arm-pit of an organic humanoid. Armored panels tore free, and the arm itself pin wheeled through the air. Running across the chest, Tails jumped again and turned, propelling himself away from the robot even as he opened fire.

Armor piercing rounds tore into the now de-armored chest, setting off secondary explosions. Another flurry of mini-missiles fired off in every direction, filling the air with fire and mach-speed ball bearings. The crippled mecha took another step, and Silver pulled back his arm, twisting the joint just as it put pressure on its knee. The leg twisted and split from the pressure, sending it falling to the left. Tails, still shielding himself from the explosions, then saw more flashes of light as the armored motorcycle swung around and hit the robot from behind.

Any annoyance he felt at Cream not getting out of the area like he had ordered disappeared as she found the bike's main armament and opened fire. The internal 20mm cannon coughed explosive rounds, savaging the E-class mech's back, and blowing off its head. Ammunition stores within its body finally started to cook off, and seconds later, the whole upper body exploded. The remaining two legs twitched, before one fell to the left and the other forward, into the dirt.

Tails landed, breathing heavily.

"Not yet!" he spun, and brought up another disposable rocket launcher. The looming figure of the last armored frame cast a shadow he could see, even facing the wrong direction. The rocket motor spat flame, and the missile flew true – only to impact uselessly against the red and black shield held by Snively's mech. Around its feet, more robots swarmed: a mix of SWATbots like before, and a growing army of nearby badnicks, summoned to his aid.

Without warning, one of the destroyed E-class's legs flew through the air, crashing headlong into the robot ranks. Tails took the opportunity presented by the confusion to open fire with his Love-II carbine, spent shells hitting the ground to his left in a steady pattern, like rainfall. He heard Cream and the armored chopper squeal around his back, taking a position on his right, also adding to the barrage. Narrowing his eyes, Tails counted upwards of thirty more assault type bots, and just as many badnicks reforming for a counterattack.

"I need nine seconds!" he yelled, decision made.

'Looks like I've got no choice!' Tails flattened himself close to the ground, and shielded his body with his tails. Plasma blasts raked the ground, and he felt them even through his normally impenetrable defense. Reaching into his travel cloak, he pulled out his last trump card. It appeared to be a simple tube. Twisting it, it activated - blue and yellow lines of light crawling along the surface. He then withdrew a trio of power rings, and slipped them around the tube. Emerging from his self made cover, Tails heaved the composite construct across the battlefield.

"Run!" he yelled, turning and spinning up his tails for maximum acceleration. "Close your eyes and run!"

Silver also turned, running as best he could through the enemy fire, while Cream turned the armored cycle around and gunned the engines. A flurry of enemy shots hit home, however, blowing out a reinforced wheel and tearing apart the lightly armored rear of the vehicle. Cream yelled, bailing, just as Silver turned to get close enough to catch her. Holding her in his good arm, the hedgehog felt the explosion as the bike's hydrogen engine crumpled and combusted. Ahead of them, Tails slowed, holding out his hand.

In his pilot's seat, Snively angled his mech's instruments downward.

"What is that…?"

Blaze woke up, wincing at the light that streamed in through her window.

"Morning, already?"

A quick look at the old flip-switch clock in her room didn't agree. Rubbing her eyes, the time traveling feline pushed herself up and got out of bed. It was dark again, but she could still see fairly well, even in the low light conditions. Pushing aside the thin curtains, she watched, half asleep, as a small mushroom cloud crested the ruined husk that was The Ring.

Glancing at the door to the living room, she felt no need to check.

He wasn't there.

"Silver. You idiot."

Cream still had her hands over her eyes, and she still only saw white light. Stumbling, she tripped and hit the ground. What she had tripped over, she couldn't tell. Scrabbling forward with her right hand, keeping the left over her face, she felt sunburned all over, despite her clothes and fur. She felt a hand, and grabbed it.

"Cream!"

"Tails!"

She pulled just as he did, and she fell against a living breathing body. The warmth helped calm her frayed nerves. Opening her eyes, trying to see him, she blinked. The whiteness was starting to fade, but it was still hard to see anything clearly. It was like looking through stained glass.

He coughed, and she felt his body move. Then, after another pull, she felt her back rest against cool brick. For the first time, she felt the wind, blowing hot and wild all around them. She sat there with him, clutching each other's hands, as their vision slowly returned. She finally saw him: battered and bruised, one hand holding hers, the other still clutching his weapon. She could see burns on his back and shoulders, and his traveling cloak was gone.

Daring, at last, to look over the wall behind them, Cream saw a dissipating column of fire and smoke, stretching like a spear into the sky. The ground beneath couldn't be seen through the dust and the haze, but it had to be Hell on Mobius. There was no sign of the mysterious white hedgehog.

"Hell of a second date…" she joked. Half-joked.

Tails let out a single bark of a laugh. "I was only half sure it wouldn't fizzle. Good thing I only used three rings instead of my originally planned five."

Cream shielded her face again, as bits and pieces of metal: nuts and bolts and scraps of all sorts, fell from the sky. One hit her hand, and she flinched – it was hot! For a minute more, the two of them just sat there, letting the feeling return to their bodies. Then, Tails grimaced and pushed himself up.

"Show me where you dropped off that lynx…" he said; a serious look in his eyes. "He has a lot of talking to do."

She nodded slowly. "What about… that hedgehog…?"

Tails' eyes narrowed dangerously.

"Chasing down hedgehogs…" he brushed the three ruffled and split bangs out of his eyes. "Isn't that the story of my life?"

Captain Anderson's eyes reactivated.

"That's right. We have just enough of a sample. Yes. He left quite a mess."

Scanners malfunctioning, he tried to magnify on a target some distance away, further in the room. It was difficult to discern just what was happening. Had The Office sent backup? He could still be salvaged.

"Should I proceed with sanitation of the area?"

Unable to focus on the sound of the voice, Anderson's scanners found one of the bodies of his mobian soldiers nearby. He had a bullet in his skull, still bleeding; still recent.

"Roger that."

The voice faded away, with the sound of footsteps. A second later, the walls lit up, consuming everything in fire. Captain Anderson continued to function until a support beam fell, crushing his neural command node.

Morning.

The next day, Tails woke up instantly, like he always did. There seemed to be little in the way of drowsiness, anymore. Instead, he woke up, and went straight to the Ring Pool for stretches, exercises, and preparation for the rest of the day. Last night, his dreams had been a confusing series of images… some had been memories. Strong memories. He had seen fire again, and the voice had spoken to him. He remembered that, in the dream, he had looked up through a sky shrouded by dark clouds, and seen a ball of light, not the sun, but trailing fire. Closer and closer it had gotten, and louder and louder the screams became, before…

He woke up.

Eventually, almost everything from his dream had faded away, everything except that white light in the sky. Thinking back, he remembered that the screams had not bothered him – he felt that he was slowly getting desensitized to them – rather: the coming of this light had filled him with a sense of purpose and joy. He had wanted it to come. He had wanted it to consume him and fill his body with its terrible energy…

Tails sat by the ring pool, his mind clear, but his thoughts focused. His left arm was covered in bandages (again), but his torso was bare save for a few patches taped over his fur. Next to him, two small devices sat in the grass, beeping and humming. The two tailed fox held a power in each hand. To an observer, he seemed to be doing nothing in particular. In fact, he was channeling chaos energy from one ring, through his body, and into another.

A crackle of yellow electricity ran down his right arm.

Gradually, the power ring in his left hand began to fade. It started at the edges, as it grew less luminous. Then, cracks began to appear in the formerly solid ring, seemingly random at first, but then resolving into a fine web of interlaced lines. Normally, a power ring, when used, simply vanished. This time, the inert body of it began to show. As the light within it faded, the ring began to shrink, and then crumple, like paper. The other ring, meanwhile, continued to burn as brightly as ever.

Tails opened his eyes, and noted the withered husk of a ring left in his hand. It was all but unrecognizable. Holding it up for a closer look, a stray breeze and the motion of his hand combined to crumply what little structure remained. Closing his fist, Tails crushed what was left into his glove. Taking a deep breath, the light in the other power ring intensified and then dimmed down to normal.

Midnight blue eyes opened.

"I wasn't expecting you to show up."

"Do you mind?"

"No. I suppose I don't."

Cream sat nearby, her back against a tree. Her wounds had been minor compared to his, but she didn't have the benefit of accelerated chaos energy healing. A cut on her forehead looked particularly bad, and had required a few stitches on their return to Knothole. The trip back had not been swift. After calling for a helicopter, and retrieving the very fortunate-to-be-alive underworld negotiator, the two of them had had to trek to the evac point.

"You brought in a pretty talkative guy," she commented, handing him a few sheets of paper clipped together. "Courtesy of Emergency Management. I'm just a trusted courier."

"We brought him in, Cream," Tails corrected her as he reached over to take the documents. Reading through them, his expression became, if anything, even more somber. After a while, he put the papers down and picked up some of his other work. All around him were clipboards and manila folders labeled 'Top Secret' and branded with the Seal of the King.

"Cream," he finally broke the silence. She turned to him, eyes open.

"What?"

"What's your clearance level? Malakim?"

"Symphony, actually," Cream replied, and smiled at his shock. "The same as Bunnie's. I guess Sally figured we'd tell each other everything."

"Ha!" That earned a rare and genuine laugh from him. "Well, that is pretty high. Officially, I'm only Symphony, too. But I effectively have Throne level clearance."

"You run programs Sally doesn't want to know about," Cream guessed. Correctly. "So you have her level of clearance."

Tails leaned back slightly, but didn't deny it.

"I'd be knighted too, but that has an age requirement of seventeen," he said, and held one of the clip boards up to his mouth. He rested his hand under his chin as he thought about something.

"You doing anything particularly underhanded?" she asked.

"They don't pay me to fight fair, and I don't expect the enemy to do so either," he replied, and then paused. "But I wouldn't call it underhanded."

"Not like bringing a nuclear weapon to a gun fight?"

He laughed again. "It wasn't really a nuke. I'm not allowed to make those, and we don't have the facilities to refine uranium anyway."

"You'd actually build nukes?"

"Of course!" he answered, and his smile faded at the look on her face. "Even a nuclear bomb is only a tool. The element, uranium, is not evil. The fission reaction is not evil. The fusion reaction that occurs in our sun is not evil. These things transcend arbitrary moral labels, like right and wrong, good and bad. They merely are. If someone uses these basic principles of physics to their advantage, they are merely acting as naturally as the first mobian who decided: why should I fight with my fists, when I can use this rock? Or another who decided: why should I eat food raw, when I can cook it with fire?"

"That's what I do," Tails concluded. "I cook with fire."

Cream plainly understood what he meant, but didn't look convinced.

"Is that what you're doing?" she tentatively asked.

He shook his head. "I just said I'm not allowed to build nukes. While relying on a superficially similar implosion event, what I used yesterday was totally different."

Against his normal tendencies, he bit back an urge to explain the actual mechanics of the device in long winded technobabble. Why no one in Knothole appreciated his technobabble, he couldn't fathom. At least the echidna and humans listened…

"What I'm working on here is something else," he finished.

"Then what is it?" She asked. "Anything you can talk about? …Without having to shoot me afterwards?"

He sighed, and handed her one of the papers from the clipboard. Cream took one look at it and realized what it was. "Is this the Tornado Two?"

The fox snorted softly. "Not quite. The Tornado Two Custom is my plane."

She cocked her head, not totally understanding.

"The Tornado Two," he explained, more clearly this time. "Was… is… just a prototype, a technology demonstrator, and something to try out new design ideas on. I built it from scratch, and I've customized it a half dozen times. At this point, it has far too many quirks to by flown properly by anyone except myself. What you see there is the Tornado Production Model. Or 'Cyclone.'"

"Production Model?"

"Yes." He watched as she flipped from paper to paper, each one covering different aspects of the design. "I've simplified the design a great deal, cut some of the redundant systems, altered the airframe somewhat, and incorporated the more stable and successful design features of the Tornado Test Model… the Tornado Two."

He reached over, pointing at one of the features. "See? I've replaced the old analog style cockpit with a digital one, and a new Heads Up Display. I've also removed the rear seat, to make it lighter and simpler to manufacture. Some of the additions are also Rotor's… the autopilot, for example, and several other electronic systems. He always was the better… electrician…"

"These are incredible…" Cream paused at a page, and gasped. "Is this…?"

"Like the latest upgrade to the Tornado Two, the Tornado Production Model can transform into a mecha for close in ground support. I've removed two of the hardpoints to allow for a less complicated transformation cycle, while enlarging the remaining three weapons systems."

"This is so cool!" She flipped the pages back and handed him the clipboard.

"Very cool." The fox smirked, and handed her a folder. "But this… this is what I was thinking the most about."

"What's this?" Cream opened the folder, and saw several dossiers tucked away. Each one had a picture, vital statistics, and about a page of commentary, charts, and a few clipped on reports. They were also, she noted, all a mixture of wolves and foxes, which came as a small surprise to her. Vulpines and Lupines were a minority in Knothole, and in the Freedom Fighters in general.

"Those… are my personal air corps…" He snickered as he smiled, and Cream could see his teeth and a glint in his eyes. "Hand picked and personally trained over the last half year. They will pilot the Tornado Production Models when their squadrons are complete…"

"Squadrons?" She asked, stressing the plural. "I never heard about any of this before now…"

His expression changed slightly, becoming more serious and reserved. "Of course you've never heard about it. It is a secret, after all. A little black ops program I'm running."

"I didn't know you had that kind of authority…"

He shrugged.

"This is the future… the future of our fight against the Eggman!" He growled, low in his throat, the name alone making him a little angry. "Ever since I began designing weapons for the Kingdom of Acorn, I've always known that it would come to this. The Freedom Fighters are Sally's Army… Sonic's Army… But this will be mine. Mine!"

Scratching his chin, he licked his lips. "I got the idea when I was in Station Square, and I saw their Air Armada: the New Terran Navy. While I negotiated for the hull of one of their 'Octavian' class escort carrier for use in the Blue Typhoon, I started to think about our strategic situation. Most of our fighting is here, in our own back yard. We don't need many capital ships to function as mobile, shielded command centers."

"So, back then, I began making plans for my elite corp. of fliers… and for the Cyclone Squadrons. After I began taking out patents on my designs: the rifles, the machine guns, the city cloak, the shield systems, all of it, King and Country began to owe me no small amount of money and political favors. I used them to secure the resources I need."

"I… I didn't know you made money from this," Cream said, cautiously.

Tails shook his head. "Don't misunderstand… the mobian credits that the King prints are all but useless outside the Kingdom. I don't need that. What I need are raw materials and other goods, many of which I then trade outside the Kingdom for a profit. It is from these accounts that I draw the funds I need for My Army."

"You mean… your pilots and planes?"

"And mobians to build those planes." The kitsune pointed out. "Finding the right pilots was actually very easy. They're all taken from resistance groups and Freedom Fighter cells that have previously seen heavy combat and taken heavy losses. Then, I had them screened for loyalty and devotion… many thought they were entering the King's Royal Secret Service. Instead they ended up in mine."

"I see." She gave him back the portfolios. "And the planes…?"

"Therein was the problem. Originally, I had planned to manufacture them either here, in Knothole, or in… another location. That proved unfeasible. Already many of our arms and armaments are produced here in a rather ad hoc fashion. That's ok for machining rifles, bombs, and the like… And Rotor's boys can handle most of the complex stuff using our Fab. But for numerous reasons, it was not the ideal environment to produce the Cyclone in."

Cream started to wonder just what those 'numerous reasons' were.

"Long story short, the planes are being built on Angel Island…" He paused, and looked at her. "Cream?"

"Um." She perked up. "Yes?"

"You're not going to tell anyone about this, are you?" He asked softly. "It is top secret. I shouldn't even be telling you, really. But I …trust you. You won't tell a soul?"

"Of course not!" She nodded quickly. "No one!"

"Good." Tails leaned in a little closer. "Not even your sister, understood? Not even Bunnie."

"She… doesn't know?" The bunny sounded surprised.

"Like I said, it's top secret. You'd be surprised how few people outside myself and the King know about it…" He faced forward and kept walking. Arm in arm, she went along with him.

"So…" She ventured. "Um… how many planes are we talking about? Eight? Ten?"

"Twenty one," he answered. "I plan to begin strikes on Robotropolis in two to three months, once that number reaches forty two."

"Forty two?" she took in a sharp breath. "Forty two?!"

He gave her a sidelong look. "Forty two. By the time my facility on Angel Island reaches full production speed, it'll be producing a new Cyclone every one and a half days."

"Who… exactly… is building these, Miles?" She looked at the blueprints more nervously than before.

The fox stiffened a fraction. "A private contractor. Certain sectors of the economy there need jobs, you see. And certain parties need a way to make an honest living and contribute to their communities. Feed their families. Help their people. I'm providing that honest work. I'm investing in their communities."

"That's a good thing, I guess…"

"And if it helps us win this war," he continued, "How could it not be a good thing?"

"Ok." She seemed satisfied with that. Then she noticed that underneath the clipboard and the folder was a brown manila envelope. It was unlabeled.

"What's this?" She asked.

Once again, his expression stiffened a fraction as she opened it and peeked inside. "The envelope? Nothing. Just a few experiments of mine."

Cream thought about that, even as she daringly pulled out the first piece of paper. Tails was the main weapons designer for the Kingdom. She knew this all too well. However, from what he had both said, and implied, it also seemed as though there were major powers keeping him from 'pushing the envelope' as much as he would prefer. Her gut instinct told her that the last few documents he had with him were more weapons designs to be used against Robotnick, and for some reason this worried her.

"This is…!" she read the header, and what it proposed.

"Some mobians…" Tails explained, sitting closer to her now, and speaking through clenched teeth. "Do not understand that this is a war; that our very survival is on a razor's edge. So they draw arbitrary lines, and say, 'You may not cross!' They say, 'We cannot try this!' I only want to save them! I only want to help and be useful! How can we win if we limit ourselves?"

"But this is…"

"Only a suggestion," he cut her off. "It merely states that with a few things I do not already have access to, we could build an electromagnetic pulse weapon of incredible power… I have studied the specifics of his robots and designs, and I know for a fact that Robotnick does not shield any of his lower echelon foot solders against electromagnetic warfare! I proposed that an EMP pulse could leave the city vulnerable to a large scale assault."

He 'hmfed' angrily.

"There was… some concern what the pulse would do to the roboticized mobians, the robians, in the city and especially near the blast. Even Rotor was against the idea! He said there was a 'strong possibility' that the pulse would wipe out their unshielded memory banks, so that when he finally got around to deroboticizing them… whenever the Hell that was… they'd end up mindless vegetables. Now, admittedly, that is a potential problem, but to end the war in one fell swoop! Wouldn't it be worth it?"

Cream shook her head. "There had to be a better way, Miles…"

"That's exactly what Sally said!" He ground his teeth together. "Sometimes I think they don't have the stomach for a true war… Do you have any idea how many will die when we make the final push on the city? Forty to Fifty thousand!"

It was the first, ever, that she recalled him raising his voice like that.

He coughed, and nervously smoothed over his hair.

"Forty to fifty thousand," he repeated. "Not including the thousands of robians who will lose their lives in the fighting, anyway. That was my thinking: that we should try our best… to minimize casualties."

Cream tried not to let it show, but his outburst had frightened her. She had seen him angry, and she had seen him fighting, but she had never seen him lose control like that. She supposed it was the topic itself. He was passionate about lives, after all. But she was no starry eyed fool; she could tell that part of his outburst wasn't over the lives lost, it was because he felt betrayed. His outburst in front of her had probably been building ever since he had quietly walked away from that meeting, who knew how long ago?

"The inability of some people to see the forest for the trees…!" He bit back whatever else he had to say.

Cream could guess who 'those people' were.

"You don't mean that... You're just frustrated." She gave his arm a squeeze, and he tensed. It was a slightly intimate response, and feeling his arm stiffen, she pulled back.

"I've been fighting all my life," he said, turning away from her. His expression was stony. Hard. "Sometimes… I think it's the only thing I know how to do. Fight. And destroy…"

"I don't believe that," Cream said, leaning closer to him but not actually touching him again. "You're helping to create a new future. A future where people won't have to fight. Where you won't have to fight. A peaceful future."

For a while, he sat there in silence.

"A peaceful future?" he finally asked. "I'd like that; it would make a nice story."

By the time Nail came by, Tails was deep in thought.

"You ready, kid?" The echidna asked, headscarf flowing in the breeze.

The kitsune seemed to be a little distracted, but nodded.

"You've excelled at external applications of chaos energy, so today I planned to teach you another mental exercise. This one will sharpen your senses."

"Sharpen my senses? Like super hearing or something?"

"No," Nail shook his hand. "No, it's not like that. It's about developing your other senses."

"Other senses? Ah, like a sixth sense?"

"Similar to that, yes: the ability to sense someone's presence. One of the aspects of Chaos Control is the ability to sense sources of power." Nail sat down next to the kitsune. "This isn't quite like hearing them or even seeing them, but just knowing they're there."

Tails seemed incredulous. "A 'Mind's Eye,' huh?"

"You've been studying!"

"You've been suggesting things to study."

"Here would be fine." Nail agreed. "It's peaceful by the Ring Pool, you're comfortable here, and that should help both of us concentrate. And for this exercise you will need to concentrate."

"Fair enough." Tails took in a deep breath, and closed his eyes. It only took a minute for him to reach a state of calm and mental concentration.

"Good," he heard Nail say. "Concentrate on the surroundings."

"On my surroundings? Like... nothing in particular?"

"Try to picture everything you can about this area."

"I have pretty clear memory of it all, if that's what you mean..." Tails exhaled deeply and brought up his memory of the forest and the local area, ignoring the smells and sounds that crept into his mind.

"Good. Now try to see everything as having an aura around it."

"'Aura?' What do you mean, aura?"

"Picture everything with an energy surrounding it. Like…" Nail thought about a good metaphor Tails would appreciate. "Like electrons orbiting a nucleus."

"Hmm. I guess I can try."

"Don't try, do it."

After a few minutes, the picture became almost outlined, accentuated, and rapidly widening, expanding. It took a while, but Tails slowly become almost comfortable in this view of the world. It was similar to before, when he and Tempest had been hunting: a feeling for the world, instinctual, and oddly familiar.

"I... kind of feel something. It's hard to describe... It's sort of like sorting through scents…"

"Don't worry," Nail assured him. "I know what it is. Now try to tune out all the low power sources. Focus on the higher ones and the ones you're most familiar with. Try to pinpoint where they are."

"No problem... I'm starting to get the hang of this..."

"Try and match the… feelings you're getting, the auras you're sensing… with faces and names."

"Huh? Ah... I think I see now. Yes… It's just like a scent. Once you have it, it's like second nature."

"Once you get someone's signature, you'll be able to pinpoint him or her when you concentrate on it. Now, who do you sense?"

"I can feel... a couple people. I feel Tempest... and you. Then the others... Sally. Bunnie's is a bit fuzzy... and I think Cream's this other one, near two faint ones. These are probably Rotor and Antoine, but I can't say for sure..." For a second, his concentration wavered, before he regained control.

"You all right?"

"I'm fine, Nail. Please continue."

"Very well… What about Sonic?"

"I can't feel him around at all. He must be away. The signal fades the father away the person is. Odd that Tempest still shows up so clearly."

"Really?" Nail paused. "What's even weirder is that I can't sense him as strongly. Maybe it's some kind of kitsune thing. If you really want to try to find Sonic, let your mind extend. Don't try and hold it back. It will focus by itself. Concentrate on him, and try to find his signature."

"Hold on... I'm picking someone up... Oh. It's her."

"Who?"

"Rouge." This time, Tails paused. "What's she doing outside of town?"

"Let's… focus on Sonic, shall we?"

"Hold on a second... I wanna try something."

"I'm not sure if you trying anything psychic is such a good idea. Not with what happened before…"

"Why? What happened back then, anyway? I think I just fell asleep while concentrating."

"Uh... ask Tempest about it sometime. He probably knows more about that stuff then I do. So, what is it you want to try?"

"I've read some suspicious reports concerning Rouge the Bat. I think she's up to something. I'm going to try and..." He searched for the right word. "I don't know... 'touch' her signature..."

Nail made a 'hmm' sound. "I don't think that's wise."

"Why? What would happen?"

"I… I actually don't know. You can't 'touch' someone's aura like that."

The young kitsune obviously wasn't content with his new mentor's answer. "I see. I'll look into it later, then."

"Don't do it at all," Nail said sternly. "Besides this practice is not so you can cop a virtual feel. It's for detecting enemies."

"Cop a feel?" Tails was noticeably getting impatient. "Are you serious?"

Nail shook his head. "Never mind. Just try to find Sonic. And if you want a really shock, try to stretch your mind and detect Shadow. But then, you probably know the threat he represented better than even I do. The size of his… shadow of an aura is nonetheless very impressive."

"Shadow... Shadow... I feel like I'm panning out, but why are all of your signals dimming when I do this? Except Tempest's. His is as clear as ever."

"It may be that kitsune are more finely attuned to each other," Nail theorized. "Though I still don't think I'm sensing him as strongly as you are. I do have lock on Sonic though."

Tails continued, concentrating on the exercise.

"Yeah. I got him. It's hard to judge distance though this way... maybe if I... yep. These two out in the middle of nowhere have to be Robotnik and Snively. Looks like he survived last night's fun. Everyone's pretty faint, though. So Sonic's near Robotropolis... probably looking for trouble, too. Hmmm... lemme expand some more... Oh, wow…"

"What?"

"Thousands... thousands of them!" Miles breath caught at the mental picture of it. They were like a sky full of stars, stretching from horizon to horizon, dazzling him with their light. "This is… indescribable… Can't you feel it!?"

"How far out are you? I'm guessing Swatbots and the robotized Mobians..."

"No... past them... reach out FAR. And they're all clear as day! Nail... right now... The ONLY things I'm picking up are Tempest, and literally thousands of others, all hundreds... no, thousands of miles away... They must be... my people..."

"Hmm." Nail pressed his brows together, and pushed outward with his mind. At first, he had no idea what he was his protégé was seeing. The echidna had developed powerful mental abilities of his own, thanks to Athair's training and the power of the new Master Emerald, but he wasn't sensing anything that far out. Astral projection wasn't meant to be used at such a distance. The more one tried to encompass the totality of Mobius, the fainter the projection became, like light from a candle, fading in the darkness and distance.

"I'm going to 'touch' one of them..." Miles' words interrupted Nail's thoughts.

"I'm warning you, you do that and you might very well kill them."

"No... There's a reason they're all like this. I..." A pause. "Nothing happened. I... I can't touch it! Let me try this one... no. Damn! Something's blocking me!"

"Alright," Nail said, opening his eyes. "I think that's enough for today."

"Of course…" Miles grumbled, but instead of leaving the Plane, he focused back in on the area where he had sensed Rouge. He wasn't interested in her, however. Instead, his attention and concentration turned to the smaller creatures in the area: the woodland animals. Finding one in a good spot, he concentrated, and felt it become more compliant.

He opened his eyes.

"Finally back?" Nail asked, sitting across from the fox. "Tails?"

Tails had his hand on his mouth. He coughed a few times, as if to work through a dry throat. In truth, he was coughing back the urge to vomit. The experiment had been a success, discomfort aside.

"I feel fine," he assured the echidna. "Just a little disoriented."

"Yeah," Nail nodded sagely. "That happens after the first couple times. Once you've done it enough you build up a tolerance to it and you can do with your eyes open."

"You mind if we take a little break?" Tails asked, slowly standing up. "Please excuse me."

Tails ran.

Out of sight in the woods, he leaned up against a tree and retched. What came up was acidic and rough, but through it all, he felt a mental sharpness. A razor's edge. Nail, so afraid to test the limits of his abilities, hadn't known what he now knew. Domination of another mind wasn't just possible. It could be done. But then, what was Chaos Control if not the systematic relationship between what we wanted, and what the emerald energy gave us? Tails wiped his mouth clean, and swallowed a dry mouthful of saliva.

The question was: what did he want?