.
THE DAY AFTER
27. A damn good reason.
[AMY, Sean Catlett]
I rip the phone cord out of the wall, this time making sure to come at an angle where the entire unit breaks. It goes out the window with the rest. These engines I hear, they could be all in my head. The roar is a manifestation of my frustration at comprehension bla bla bla, BLA BLA BLA! SHUT UP, SHUT UP, SHUT UP!!
I AM NOT LIKE HIM!!
but I could be.
He went nuts. Plain and simple. There's no deeper meaning behind it. He gave in just like so many other people have already, in the way that they ignore what's around them, in the way that they kill and rape and strive for regularity only for themselves, the way there is pain and suffering at the hands of them all, why compassion is so fucking hard, the way that there are nerds and species and races and rules and law and everything that it fights against, the way they all masturbate and fuck to escape, the way they build machines to do what they couldn't . . .
And? So what? Big deal. He wasn't perfect.
I know, but . . . it would have been nice if he was.
Crunch.
Crunch?
Crunch.
Crunch.
Oh come on. The hallway? Now I know it's Robotnik. Only he would be this stupid.
In the corner, the metal pole glimmers, enticing, long and not very thick. It's just too easy to walk over and pick it up. The darkness closes around me and I hide myself in the shadows.
Even with the engines burning in my ears, my breathing gasping for air, and the crunch, crunch, crunches shattering my skull, it's deathly quiet in the apartment.
And I'm not even scared. Or if I am I just don't notice it.
Just don't pay attention, Amy. Just ignore your surroundings. Ignore the hunger and the dehydration picking at you. Ignore the doubt, the doubt, and the fact that your death is probably closer at hand than you realize. Ignore your reflection in the metal bar, which shows a face more frightened than anything you've ever seen . . .
Crunch, crunch, crunch?
The engines grow louder, the footsteps faster.
It sounds really stupid and cartoonie, too, like . . . FWOOOOOM or WHIRRRRR or uhhh FUUUCK. Get the idea.
Raise the bar. Do it.
Done.
Come on, come on! You've done this before, remember? In the ally? The brick? It's easy. Pretend, if need be.
I close my eyes and pretend that the coming attacker is someone I know and someone I hate. Thousands of faces flash across, and none of them work. I squint my eyes and try Sonic, but . . . no.
In fact, the only one that's even close to working
is
Him.
When my eyes open again, Rouge comes bursting through the door, gun raised and pointing frantically around the room, and she's calling my name, and tiny pieces of glass are stuck to her feet, and-
ROUGE?!!
Shit.
And then, all hell breaks loose.
This talent, this knack, don't ask me where it comes from. Sonic and Tails rubbing off on me maybe.
But anyway.
The couch, lying close to the door, is quick to reach. While explaining to Rouge in a rushed voice that it's her that's targeted and not me, I pull the blanket off the sticky upholstery and throw it over her. It floats down lightly like a leaf and covers her.
And then he's here.
Red.
And knocking Rouge behind the overturned couch, I only smile at it.
"Come on," I coo at it, keeping the bat aimed high. It cocks it's head, the blades adorning his crown clicking together. Involuntarily, the scars on my face inflame, but I shake it off. I stare back at him, and he stares at me. He's at full height, his eyes glowing. He looks confused. I shouldn't be fighting back like this. I coo again, and make the first steps.
Mirrored. Closer.
Again.
Mirrored. Closer.
I can smell the oil and the dried blood.
Again. Mirrored. Closer.
His claws come out of his knuck- his knuckles . . .
Closer.
He crouches like a jaguar at the world cup games. Those fuckers can run like hell.
Closer.
I stand my ground and I let him come.
Closer.
Here.
He crouches, drawing in air, just like before, and he strikes-
DING!
Ding? For fuck's sake . . .
DING!
"You don't EVER -DING!- fuck with me, or my friends, EVER AGAIN! -DING- Are you in there, eggfuck?!! -DING- Come and fight like a MAN, YOU DICKLESS BASTARD!! -DING- YOU FUCKING COWARD!" -DING-
The impacts, they jar my wrists and set my shoulder afire. The dance circles around the scattered debris, the battlefield. The target squeals with warning buzzers and sucks in more air. This could pass for frustration, and it's laughable.
It doesn't look like I'm doing much damage, though. It was obviously made for combat like this, whereas Black did the blood sucking. Lucky me, I get all the hard ones. The stab wounds from Sandra's apartment cover his stomach in little scratches.
Luckily, I see the attack coming, right as Rouge calls out in warning. Side swipe. Dodge. Roll. I'm feet from him, ducking the mess he knocked over, a barricade for the door. The television, oh my God, get this: flies right at the ceiling fan and manages to get it's cord wrapped around the blades. How fucking comedic.
. . . . . .
No!
No, Amy!
Don't do it!
NO!
"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to . . . Baseball!"
Swing. The TV flies on an arc and hits Red dead on. He squeals.
"OH! What a swing! And-"
The box comes back at me, quickly, and I swing again, sending it flying back at him. Hit. Score.
"Bases are loaded, folks-"
Swing. Hit. Another score. Squeal.
Laugh.
"The pitch! The swing!"
Crack. Boom. He's knocked off his feet. And the crowd goes fuckin wild.
"HOME RUN! HOME TEAM WINS THE GAME! THE CROWD GOES WILD!"
Then he gets back up.
Fuck.
And because I can't think of anything else to say . . .
"Batter up, beeeeitch!!"
Swing. Crack.
Catch.
. . . Out.
And I swear that that's a triumphant smile he's giving me.
The pitch. He throws, actually, he HITS the TV back at me, snapping the cord and sending the box flying at high speeds. My body hits the floor, evading, getting smacked in the forehead, and I swear, honestly, that I come up as quick as I can.
But it's not enough.
He's already in front of me, so close his chest touches mine, towering above. All I have left is instinct.
Swing. He lets it hit him, and in fact, he braces himself for it. He grabs my pole and he breaks it in half.
Damn it.
"AMY!" It's Tails.
Aw.
And I was having so much fun, too.
________________________
[TAILS, David Macintyre]
What do I have? What am I holding as I leap through the window of the fire escape and rush into the living room?
Not a gun, not a rifle, not a real weapon of any kind.
I have a freaking wrench and a hammer. Best I could find on such urgently short notice. It'll have to suffice.
"TAKE THIS YOU MOTHERFUCKING PIECE OF-" Clang.
I don't even register what I see when I come in. It's all fuzzy to me. All that I can focus on is the hulking mass of red steel menacing me from a foot away, probably ready to punch me senseless. I'm regretting this already.
"Amy, take Rouge and GO!"
I suppose it works, but the big guy is obviously too strong for me to take down. If anything this is just a martyr to allow the others to escape. The door slams against the wall as she leaves.
God, I'm such a fucking IDIOT.
I look around, ducking under his punch-just barely, I might add-and run. No fancy flips or kung fu jumps, I just SCRAM.
I get onto the couch and try to leap over him as he comes for the wall, all
eight freaking tons of indestructible red steel flying fist first at where I
was standing just a moment ago. I throw the hammer down at him while up in the
air, actually expecting it to do something, and then dash.
Door is not totally open. No time to open it. Instead I turn, grab the TV, and heave it hard at him. It barely even slows him. He comes at me again, and I leap.
He clips my leg.
That fucking HURTS.
"AAAAGGGHHHHHH!!!!"
I don't even know what happens next.
The big, hulking pile of red metal looms down on me.
As he does it seems to last hours, but probably only lasted a second.
Big, silver muzzle. Red plated head. Glowing yellow eyes. Freaky, demonic designs tooled skillyfully into the muzzle. Big, circular intercom type speaker where the mouth would be. Loud, Vader-esque crackling sounds emit from it at close range.
Huge, hulking red body, muscular. Right
arm sporting a shield probably bigger than me, the other a pair of what seem to
be retractable spikes, with little pin holes on the tip of each, probably
syringes. I've been doing my homework.
Eggman logo across the shield. Model number 'K-501' stamped against the right breast.
K.
The letter K.
Big red, hulking machine, spikes on hands, blades hanging from the head that resemble dreadlocks, a partner in death that was once our ally Shadow, and a big letter K stamped on his chest.
No. It can't be.
Holy fucking-
I go flying to the hard ground below as he throws me out the window.
This is not pleasant.
________________________
Aahhhhhhhhhhh crash.
Groan. Pain.
My whole body is wracked with undeniable agony. I soared straight out the window, over the railing, and right into the roof of a car. I've made a big dent. I fall, aching, to the asphalt ground.
I spit up blood.
"Agh… shit, shit, shit-" more blood, and puke. What a great way to start.
I want to sleep. My eyes droop, eyelids becoming heavy. Sleep….
No.
No, not now. I have to do this.
I HAVE to.
As much as it hurts to do so, I feebily drag myself
away from the car and hoist myself off of the ground. I have to support myself
against the nearby railing before I can walk properly.
I look. My bike is around behind the building. I have to get to it.
I'm not even sure if I can drive the thing right now. But I've got to try.
It takes me what feels like hours to get behind the building, but according to my watch it's been like half a minute. I see it, and prop myself against it, wanting water.
Fuck, can that guy throw.
Half a minute too late, it seems. The big red guy advances on Amy and whatever she has under that blanket, probably Rouge. She throws Rouge into the car and screams as Brass swings.
Scorch.
Kays shoots him from the driver's seat, yelling at
Amy to get in. She won't. She ducks.
I can't take this guy on. There's no way.
We need help. We need help, now. NOW.
My stomach churns.
I only know of one place I can get it. I'm going to hate myself, because this will mean I am weak and dependent. But…
It….
Needs to be…
Done.
Done.
Now. Done. Do it. Now.
Yeah.
I lurch forward onto the bike and grab at my tool kit, strapped to the side of the seat.
Maybe…
Just maybe…
Yes.
Yes. Thank you, whatever god there may be up there, THANK YOU.
I find a pair of headphones in there with a microphone on them. I pull out the small radio transmitter we used earlier, then collapse.
I muster the strength.
Now. Do it now. Don't hesitate. We need HELP.
"…..SONIC!"
________________________
[SONIC, Stephen Zacharus]
"Dude, I need a fix like you can't fucking believe."
"I believe it, man. How'd you manage to get outta prison so early?"
"Let's just say that it's my little secret."
"Whatever. So what'll it be this time?"
"The usual stuff."
Kyle--scruffy wolf guy, drug-dealer friend of mine--hands me a small bag of white powder. "There you go, Hedgehog. Enjoy. It's gonna cost ya, though; I can't keep givin' you this shit for nothin'."
"I'll pay you back, buddy. Don't worry."
"Yeah? Why am I not convinced?"
I simply grin at him.
"So anyway," I say, "I need to get my hands on some weapons. Bombs and guns, whatever."
"What are you planning to do with 'em?"
"It's personal. Wish I could tell ya, man, but I can't."
"Hmm. Well, I might be able to give you a few names. What's in it for me?"
I whip out my wallet and start flipping through a fat wad of bills. "I dunno. I might think of paying back all the money I owe you. Maybe a little extra? Beats the hell out of me…"
Kyle grinned back at me. "Now we're talking."
"Just give me a name and put a good word in for me," I say, tossing him the whole wad.
"Shit, man. Where'd you come up with all this *cash*…? Are you expecting something to happen to you or what?"
"You might say that. C'mon, man. *Names*."
"Right. There's this duck I know who has…"
"SONIC!!!"
Holy fuck. I hold my hand to my ear, bitterly realizing that I'd forgotten to take that goddamn bug out…
"Tails, what the fuck do *you* want?"
The kid sounds panicked, out of breath. "Sonic, you've gotta help us. One of Eggman's bots is…"
I can't believe I'm hearing this.
"What the hell is going on?" Kyle asks, backing up. "Who the fuck are you *talking* to, man? This is some freaky-ass shit…"
"Tails," I say, beyond pissed at this point, not even bothering to explain myself to Kyle, "just why the fuck should I help *you*? You'd better have a damn good reason for interrupting me like this."
I wait for some lame-ass excuse.
Then: "Sonic… it's Knuckles."
Zoom.
________________________
[AMY, Sean Catlett]
All things considered, I think that escorting a half hysterical woman down two flights of stairs covered in a blanket would take forever, but, since I'm such a badass, I did it in record time. Rouge screams something at me about never doing anything like that ever again, and I'm taking the gun away from her and "Yeah, yeah, yeah"-ing, telling her to keep the fucking blanket on or she's roasted bat jerky, all the way out the door, where the harshness of the color slaps me sharply in the face. We're outside.
I can feel blood running down my face.
what?
amy
amy!
"AMY ROSE!"
Something is wrong.
Up the street, the driver of the van whistles and motions for me to run to him. It looks like an FBI van.
"AMY ROSE! COME ON!" He whistles like I don't hear him.
F.
B.
I.
Rouge turns to me and shrugs under the blanket. Not like she can see anyway.
I don't know. I don't know about this. Falling in one enemy's hands to escape another. Is that really better?
CLANG!
Fine. Fuck it.
These moving piles of skin and bones, these muscles and neurons, they don't want to be torn apart from each other. So the brain tells them. Not like they have a choice.
RUN! it tells them.
RUN! And so they do it.
The van doors in the back swing open when we arrive, and inside are machines that click and move and glow.
Surveillance.
Hesitation.
"Get in the van!" The driver yells, looking behind me in fear. Almost fueled by pure instinct, I heave Rouge into the van. Her blanket almost falls off but she pulls it tight around her.
When I turn around, this mess of screaming red metal bares its fangs and takes a swing.
It's so hot that I don't feel anything.
In fact, it feels nice.
"GET IN THE FUCKING VAN!!"
what?
WHAT?!!!
HOLY SHIT, IT'S THE FUCKING FBI! Wait. No. No. No. Can't be.
The driver pulls out a gun and points it at my head. Whoops.
________________________
[TAILS, David Macintyre]
"Amy! Over here. Over HERE!" I manage to croak out, hoping it's loud enough to get her attention.
Apparently not.
I groan and throw myself onto the bike, kicking it into gear and rubbing my head. I don't want to do this. But I guess I have no choice.
"Amy….!" I say weakly, driving toward her. "Get ON."
Finally I get her attention. She runs toward the bike, shots coming from Kays constantly. The red thing doesn't attack Amy yet.
"Amy… get on, now. NOW."
She doesn't argue, instead half leaping onto the bike and throwing her arms around my front. I almost vomit again, but suppress it.
"Ugh… hold… on, Amy."
She's already doing that. I rev the bike into gear and drive straight past the
robot, who follows. Kays
pursues him, shooting at him from the window.
"Be… caref-" he yells. I can't hear him now, wind whipping at my face and tearing at my already burning cheeks. No matter how fast I go, though, he still follows.
This time I have traffic to deal with.
I weave in and out groggily of any cars that come by, getting motion sick. Amy's constant screaming doesn't help much.
The robot gives chase. Constantly.
Always just getting into that little inch before reaching us, then falling back.
AlmostalmostalmostdammittryagainalmostdamntryoncemorecomeonealmosttheredammityoucandoitthistimemotherfuckingDAMN.
I really don't want this right now.
I can't deal with it.
I head for a rising ramp, and tighten my eyelids.
"Hold on, Amy."
I push the button.
________________________
[AMY, Sean Catlett]
Words cannot describe.
I retract every statement I have ever made about Tails' bike. This is so cool . . . This is so cool . . .
This bike, it can burst through van doors without a scratch on it. This bike, it can support a pregnant passenger without bending dangerously low to the ground. This bike, it can out run a speedy metal demon hot on your tail. It can give him a run for his money.
Really. I shit you not.
"I'm doing better now. Honest."
"What was that, Amy?!" Tails yells over the screeching and the rushing wind.
"I said, "HOLY FUCK, HE'S COMING UP FAST!!!"
"What?!" He still can't hear.
Simple solution, really. I have this talent for screaming a really high pitch. Ask my ex girlfriends. They'll tell you.
So, whenever Red gets close to us, about to hit the back of the rushing bike, I scream. It gets his attention and we maneuver. He should pay attention to the road anyway.
See?
I'm helpful.
We're speeding around the construction part of the city, near the apartment. Broken down civilization being rebuilt, all around us. Everywhere are slabs of concrete and giant metal beams to get impaled on.
Trying to keep up after us is the van. And the driver is firing at Red, giving us cover. Helping us.
The bike slows down.
"Hold on, Amy."
Wait, what? What is he doing?
We pick up speed again . . .
Oh no.
You fucking asshole!
My scream is probably heard throughout the entire town.
________________________
And we're on a rooftop all of a sudden, riding along with speed past exhaust pipes and transmitting towers. The bike wobbles down on the roof, hard. My teeth clack together and more of my blood flows down Tails' back.
I'm starting to get woozy.
"Don't . . . ever do that again."
"You want to live, right?"
He revs the bike and jumps another tower. My fingers grip his chest tighter and my head bounces against his back.
"Your bike can jump . . . And yet you bring a wrench to fight him. I don't get you."
Jump. Land. Clatter. Gun shot. He's still behind us, scaling the walls and scrambling across the tops. Technology falls in his wake.
He jumps.
He glides.
He runs.
Like a scavenger. Like a hunter. Like an ancient God . . .
.
Uh oh.
No.
"It's Knuckles, isn't it?"
It sounds so horrible out loud.
". . ."
Jump. Land. Bleed. Swipe. Blurry.
I never get an answer. That means I'm right.
"I . . . I can't believe I never saw it before."
PainGuiltLiesDeathCheatAbandonBleedDeadKnucklesJumpDieBurnLeaveDestroyRobotOblivion
Something comes pouring out of me, and I can't tell whether it's blood or tears. I guess it doesn't matter.
I just want this to end.
________________________
[TAILS, David Macintyre]
"It's Knuckles, isn't it?"
Oh no.
No, not this. Not now…
It hurts me too, to tell the truth.
I AM capable of liking someone, you know. As a friend, asshole.
"…"
It's probably best not to answer… she'll know what that means.
"I… I can't believe I never saw it before."
"… it's better that you didn't. It makes the job a lot easier."
"Are we going to have to… kill him?"
Swing, dodge, left, right. Jump.
"That depends."
Jump.
"On what?"
"If it's even possible."
It's really amazing how calming this conversation is.
Even when you're being chased down by an old best friend who's now loaded down with hostile weaponry, jumping from roof to roof on a two wheeled death trap…
She still makes you feel fine.
I guess that's what attracted me to her in the first place.
"And if it is?"
Jump swing dodge left right…
"That also depends."
"ON?"
Jump
"Whether or not he…."
Fuck it.
"Yeah, Amy, we're gonna have to kill him."
Suddenly.
________________________
[AMY, Sean Catlett]
"TAILS!"
"WHAT?!"
"HE'S GONE!"
Ducked out of sight about a building and a half ago.
"Fuck!"
The bike slows down.
"No! Keep going! He's trying to head us off!"
Imagining him running along the cover of the alleys, ducking along walls. Climbing. Scratching deep into the brick.
We pick up speed again, turning along the buildings, trying to confuse him down below. Twisting our course like a piece of ribbon. The driver of van isn't firing anymore. Is that a good sign?
Then, something comes to me.
He's not attacking Rouge.
He's after us.
And Tails is protecting ME.
My arms wrap around him tighter, but I feel so weak, so weak . . .
Ahead is a structure bigger than the building we're on. A parking garage. A different part of town. Far away from home.
And Tails is going to jump it.
I should have said something.
We clear the gap, soaring into a wild apex, high where the metal birds fly, and Red comes up from underneath us and hit's the center of the bike. We lose control and my grip on Tails is lost.
We're floating in the middle of parts of machinery, debris from the bike everywhere. The womb of the dying industry. The ground so far away, Tails so far away, the sky so far away, Red so close . . . so close that I'm staring him in the eyes . . .
And we land.
________________________
[TAILS, David Macintyre]
I hear a loud crack behind me.
That must have been some part of Amy. Maybe her ass is broken from that landing.
I suddenly feel her go limp against my body. I'm going to have to stop and drop her off, or she's going to fall off. More dangerous.
I swing the bike around in a U-turn and hit the breaks. The bike skids, but I manage to stop it.
Then it falls over.
"Aaahahhh!"
The heavy weight of the bike sinks down into my foot. Something's twisted. I'm not walking for a week at least.
This can't happen now…
I see Knuckles… or whatever he's called now, come rushing toward us from the
air.
First things first. I shift my weight and grip my hands under the bike.
This thing is heavier than it looks. A lot heavier.
For a moment my attention shifts to Amy.
Knuckles, he's probably coming.
But right now I don't care.
________________________
[AMY, Sean Catlett]
Smooth concrete, smoother than the face of child or the surface of refined and pounded metal, we land on this from two stories up, going 50 miles per hour or so. my arm breaks with a snap so loud that my ears hurt more than the actual limb.
i black out.
its so dark
________________________
[SONIC, Stephen Zacharus]
I'm running and I can't stop. I wish I could say that more poetically for you, but… well, fuck you.
All I'm thinking about is *him*. Getting *him*. Beating the shit out of *him*.
Killing *him*.
It's all his fault you know. He made my life a living hell--mooching off of me like a goddamn leech, that bastard, and then having balls enough to tell me that I wasn't treating Amy right or that I was too egotistical or that I had a drug problem or whatever the hell his opinionated mouth wanted to fucking tell me. Oh, and THEN starting fucking arguments in the middle of nice, crowded areas about how I didn't give a shit about him, going on and on about claustrophobia, whining about his hallucinations or constipations or mental retardations or, fuck, whatever the hell he called them. You wanna know something? I *didn't* give a shit about him. Christ, after all the shit he put me through, it's no wonder I ended up wanting to screw Amy upwards and sideways.
So, just now I find out that he's still alive. He's one of Eggman's robots, even. It's like we're dragging the whole damn Incident back in the open again. For fuck's sake, I just want to forget about it. I want to move on with my life. I want Knuckles fucking DEAD.
Streetlamps have become nothing more than continuous streaks of white light on either side of me. I don't even feel the pavement beneath my feet anymore. It's like I'm gliding on fire.
Coming up ahead of me is a cluster of dilapidated apartment complexes. The whole area is a shithole; no wonder they call this the bad part of town. I gathered from my brief conversation with Tails that the action was somewhere around Rouge's apartment. Wherever the fuck THAT is…
Crunch.
…wha…?
I come to a stop; I'd stepped on broken glass. I look up and see, three stories above me, a shattered apartment window.
Down a nearby alley, I can see overturned trashcans and some fresh chucks carved out of the brick buildings, debris crumbling into the street. The place is a war zone.
Getting warmer…
Distant shouting.
Noise--clanging.
Following the trail of destruction, I can see an old parking garage come into view.
And then… I see him.
________________________
[TAILS, David Macintyre]
"Amy…. Amy, are you awake?"
Light stirring. Good enough.
I hear a clank.
I've given up trying to lift the bike.
I lie sideways on the ground, facing Amy, my head bleeding from something. My legs are being crushed under the bike. My face is expressionless. I bet my eyes are glazed over.
I speak weakly from fatigue.
This isn't so bad clang.
"Amy… when we get out of here… what do you want to do?"
She stirs more. She shifts.
"…uhh…"
"I'm going to get a job somewhere, make some money… I really want to get out of this city, don't you?"
"Tails… hel…Rouge…"
"It's fine, Amy… you don't have to move."
I've accepted my fate. That's what this is.
I'm going to die here.
I hear the whirring, the humming of that monster searching for us outside of the building.
This isn't so bad.
"I can't move."
"We're under the bike. We can't move. We're probably going to die."
"What?!"
"Don't fight it, Amy, it'll go quicker and easier if you just zone out."
"…"
"Amy… what are you gonna name the baby?"
"… I… I don't know."
"Any ideas?"
"…I was gonna call her Ana."
The weight from the bike digs into my legs.
"That's a nice name. I like that."
She doesn't answer.
She tries to sit up.
"It's…"
"What?"
I look.
Sonic's here. He's here. We're okay.
"We'll be fine…"
No, we won't. I see it happening now, even before it does; something will stop him from winning. We're still dead.
________________________
[SONIC, Stephen Zacharus]
I dive forward, grabbing Knuckles from behind. I think I take him by surprise, if you can even do that to 'bots. I grapple his neck with one arm and shove his head forward with the other, trying to slam his goddamn cyborg face into the cement wall.
No use. He shakes me off—like a rat. Robotnik wouldn't have it any other way.
I eat pavement, HARD, and scramble back to my feet. Faceoff. He's ready for me now.
"That's what you think, you fucking brainless scrap heap…"
I attack again, from the front this time, charging like a mad bull. I pounce into his chest and try to kick his head in and HOLY SHIT my foot connects and he falls down and he's down he's down he's DOWN…
I backflip from his chest and… into the wall. Ouch.
I'm back up just before his rock-solid fist smashes into the cement beside me.
I turn.
Trashcan.
"You never give up, do ya, Knux?"
I kick the trashcan into him just after snatching the lid and diving away.
He knocks the trashcan across the garage. But at least it slows him down.
"Eat this."
I'm on the ground, swinging my torso and heaving the trashcan lid like a frisbee to his legs. I use the momentum to summersault forward and spin like hell in the same direction.
The lid connects, tripping RoboKnux, knocking him forward just as I'm underneath him. I extend my leg upward as he's falling—connect, dead into his torso, knocking him flat—and I flip over him…
Only when I land, he's not there anymore.
FUCK—behind me.
Too late.
I jump out of the way, but his fist slices into my left bicep.
MOTHERFUCKER.
The pain is enough to bring me to my knees. I clutch my arm, forcing my eyes to stay open, to stay fixed on him. I can see that his right fist sports a pair of long, wicked-looking spikes.
Flashback. I see newspaper headlines, articles. The Vampire Murders—victims drained with thick holes in their necks. Damn it, why didn't I make this connection before…
Suddenly I find myself wanting to be very, very far away.
HOLY—
A van comes out of nowhere—probably Tails or Kays or, fuck, maybe even Amy—and blindsides me.
Obviously they were trying to pulverize RoboKnux or some shit. They sure did a hell of a job. Knux isn't even phased, and I think I broke a couple ribs.
That's all the distraction he needs.
The shield attached to his right arm is driven right into my face. Bang. Pavement.
The whole world is now vertical. My eyes are so heavy now.
In the distance, I think I see Amy Rose. She's dressed in black, and her hair is done up in some sort of wild punk-rocker frizz. Her tough image can't disguise how absolutely terrified she is. Helpless. Hopeless. Just like she looked the night I turned her lesbian.
I can't move. I feel blood running down my face.
…Darkness.
________________________
[TAILS, David Macintyre]
"When's Ana due, Amy?"
"I don't know… a few months, I guess…"
"It'll be nice when she comes out, huh? No more carrying her around…"
"…"
"I'll get a job, Amy… I'll get a life for you two. You'll be fine. Both of you."
I hear the revs of Kays' van. Thuds, clanks, whacks, bangs, gone. Flat surface.
Sonic. He lost.
He lost. I knew it.
We're dead.
Now Rouge. Rouge's blanket has come off.
And suddenly everything stops.
I wait. I wait for everything to unfold.
I watch. They're talking or some shit… I can't pay attention….
"Amy…"
"…."
"You and your baby… you're going to be fine. I'll make sure, okay?"
"Thank you, Tails…"
I wait.
No.
I can't let it end like this.
Amy's baby. Our baby? Our Ana Rose… We have to get out of this, even if only for little Ana's sake.
"…."
"We'll be fine, Amy…"
No more.
NO MORE!
And that's when it happens.
________________________
[ROUGE]
I come crawling out of the crashed van on all fours, and by the time I stand up, already it's all over.
Even through my protective shroud I can see that Sonic is beaten. This skin stained blanket is like a filter that doesn't work; I can still see everything that I'm supposed to.
Tails, this fear growing in his eyes, he hugs the limp Amy to his chest, the unnatural white light shining around him. Orange and pink blobs, quivering, muttering, dying. Both of them are stuck under a giant hunk of metal, trapped, trapped, trapped . . .
There's so much blood everywhere.
The giant in flowing red, liquid through the filter, his eyes flash not at me but at Amy and Tails, helpless in their prison. This robot is targeting, targeting, targeting, not searching. He's getting ready to advance. To strike.
Step. Step. Tails is frozen in headlights and for once he's at a complete loss of what to do. He can't retreat because he's held down fast, easily 70 or 80 pounds pressed on his legs. All he can do is wall himself in front of Amy, a final barrier of protection . . .
It's not me that Robotnik wants dead. It's her.
The gun, still in my hand, grows hot as my hand tightens around it . . .
And then there's words passing across my eyes, thin as thoughts but vibrant like the sun. The words stay there in front of me like an ugly scar. Guaranteed that Tails and everyone else can see the exact same scar. The words confirm the obvious.
We're dead.
We're so dead.
No. No. No.
Sonic can't be our last hope. He fucking can't be! knucklesNo, no, no, we've all grown up. We're no longer children to be led by his towering personaKnucklesacross lakes of danger and skies of darkness. WeKNUCKlesdon't need to be herded to safety! We need no hands to guard us! We can take care of ourselves! We need no FUCKING HELP!
I pull the gun up, throwing the shroud off with one arm. I prepare for the recoil, the part where the expanding air propels the bullet forward and the shooter backwards. The laws of physics. A little recoil is proportional to the awesome force of the projectile. This should work. This should work.
Without the filter, Robotnik's creation is lined up in the crosshairs and I can feel him move closer. It's a world of light so bright that I can only see outlines. I can only see what's intended to be and not what is. Preformed weaponry. Growls and snarls. Mechanical whirring. The clinking of metal.
Outlined Tails sees me coming, sees the gun raised, and he wraps his arms around Amy, covering her head with his hands, immediately coated in blood.
The outlined creation turns towards me. He drops his attack and just . . . stands . . .
Squeeze. Squeeze. Almost . . . almost . . .
And . . .
Oh . . . my . . .
Knuckles?
Is it really you?
"Hi."
How . . . Why . . . I have so many questions . . .
Shrug. "Same old, same old, I guess."
That stupid grin that he always does froms on his face. His shoulders hunch forward and he crosses his arms. God . . .
"I'm . . . so happy to see you. You look . . . great . . ."
So do you . . . Just as I remember you . . .
Cry. Sob.
"Don't . . . don't cry, Rouge. I'm sorry . . . I'm sorry . . ."
Wh-why did you do it?
"I had to."
Why?
"I just . . . I had to."
WHY?!!
WHY DID YOU LEAVE ME?!!
"Please, Rouge . . . I . . . I did it because I didn't want you to get hurt . . ."
WELL YOU HURT ME, KNUCKLES!!!
YOU FUCKING HURT ME!!
Clang.
Clang. Clang.
What?
What's happening?
"It's happening again, Rouge."
Clang.
Clang clang clang.
Metal . . .
"I'm sorry we can't say goodbye under better circumstances."
"After the missions ends, so does my life. Self-destruct. Robotnik promised it to me."
"I . . . I made sure that whatever he does with me, that you aren't hurt. I don't care about anyone else as long as you're okay."
"This is the best I can do."
"This is the best either of us could ever hope for."
"This is my final gift to you."
"I'm dead. I'm dead, Rouge. Always remember that . . ."
Knuckles?
ClangClangClangClangClangClangClangClangClang
KNUCKLES!!!!!!!!!!
You say you didn't want to hurt us, and look that what you're doing! You're hurting us ALL! ME MOST OF ALL!!
Clang.
"I-"
What you did was a coward's way out.
What you did . . . It did more damage than ANYthing you could have ever done on accident.
Life without you alone hurts more than any insult or blow.
Gift? You call all of THIS a gift?
I'd rather have you kill me.
I'd rather have Robotnik kill me.
Knuckles . . . You abandoned me.
You abandoned me.
And I love you.
And I love you more than anything.
But . . . I hate you too.
When I aim, squeeze, and fire, the release is . . . so . . . overwhelming.
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To be continued. Reviews are appreciated. Oh, and visit our site: http://tdaproject.tripod.com.
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