Author Notes: Phwee, completed another chapter despite and utter lack of reviews. ^^; Oh well..

Disclaimer: Own nothing. You all know this. :P

Special thanks to Slay Une, Alba Aulbath (especially on the accents), and Katwarrior. Thanks for drawing that pic of Sojourner from the last chap, Kat! It inspired me muchly. :3

Apologies for how the last scene in this chap is written out. I was watching Romeo and Juliet during drama class at the time, so my writing skill went all 'Old English' for a while. O_o;

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Encased Relations: Chapter Five Reverse psychology is failing miserably

It's so hard to be left all alone

Telling you is the only chance for me

There's nothing left but to turn and face you

When I look into your eyes, there's nothing there to see

Nothing but my own mistakes staring back at me

Asking: Why?

-- 'Pushing Me Away', Linkin Park

            "Raped? As in.. As in.." Coherency has been completely lost within the tone of Sonic Hedgehog, even as his disbelief solidified into utter shock.

            "That's not possible." Athair appeared visibly shaken by the new information. "Our bodies age at a slower rate than most echidnas, but Moritori is simply too old.."

            "Wasn't he exposed to the Chaos Emerald's energy, as well?" Came a query from Knuckles; his eyes were wide in the same horror that was nearly tangible within the room, yet logic was somehow dictated. "If he was exposed, too, doesn't that give him the same lifespan?"

            Silence rang on the heels of the current Guardian's words.

            Elias shook with barely concealed rage, "Spectre, are you certain of this information?"

            Spectre trembled with a different emotion entirely, "I saw it during the contact. The fireants saw it, as well." He paused for a moment, taking in a shaken breath. "Sojourner was screaming."

            Silence reigned again. After several long moments of merely digesting this information, Princess Sally Acorn broke the silence.

            "I think we're going to need help on this one."

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            Conscious was looming, again. As it's been happening more often than not, as of late, Sojourner simply did not want to awaken; a subconscious filled with horrific nightmares were far more preferable to a true living hell. However, being who he was deemed heightened senses, and the slight step back into the world of the awake only heightened it more so; thus came to notice that something was terribly wrong. At the least, more wrong than what it should be.

            The world beyond his closed lids was brighter.

            The existence of greater light prodded a curiosity he knew he would regret later; his eyes slowly opened, even as a groan passed his lips, to take in his current existence.

            The room had changed. Sojourner could not recall when he had fallen unconscious, but it was obvious that he had been moved after he had; the cell he was being held in now was larger by nearly double. Overhead bulbs, embedded into the ceiling, were the source of the bright lights. Neither of these facts bothered him too greatly; it was only after he had glanced around his new prison did surprise evolve into shock, shock shift into horror, and horror solidify into fear.

            Hung upon the walls, upon shelves and racks, were a variety of devices that existed solely to cause pain. Fear and horror birthed a pit within his stomach as he recognized the uses for a number of them; many, however, he did not know the use for. He wished never to find out.

            Chains and shackles hung from various points within the ceiling, and lay at similar points upon the floor. A metal table lay within the center of the room, mere feet away from his position; thick straps lay upon it.

            It only came after realizing just where he was being held that he took stock of his own physical well being; a true shock came then. The blood, dried and wet, that covered his form nearly consistently since his capture was simply gone. It appeared as if someone had cleaned his form while he had been unconscious.

            A shudder wracked his frame at the mere notion of either Moritori Rex or Enerjak laying their hands upon him as he rested; the concept was nearly too much to bear.

            A sigh that bordered upon tears escaped from his being; he was being held within a literal torture chamber, and the simple fact that he could not get out impressed his depression further.

            Escape was impossible.

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            There was a great deal of surprise to Knuckles when, after the meeting had been adjourned, Athair had stayed behind; even Spectre had left the room, and he had been the one to witness the crime against their relative.

            Knuckles had never been close with his great grandfather; on the contrary, there were times that he disliked the elder echidna. Nonetheless, as the nearly ninety-year-old echidna stayed within his seat with fear so visibly plastered upon his face, Knuckles began to worry.

            "Grandfather Athair?" If one were to ask, Knuckles would not have been able to tell them why he called with such respect. "Are you okay?" He knew it was a stupid question as soon as it passed his lips.

            Athair looked to his great grandson with a look of utter surprise. After a brief second, the surprise shifted into worry, "I'm afraid."

            The admission came as an utter surprise to the current Guardian. "Afraid?" Even as he spoke, he sat within a chair next to his ancestor. "You.. you don't think we can fight the Legion?"

            Athair stared at Knuckles with an unreadable expression for several seemingly long seconds; his voice was soft when the silence broke. "I'm afraid I'll never see the Brotherhood again. I'm afraid, Knuckles, that they'll die in there."

            Knuckles could only stare in surprise; the Brotherhood has never truly shown that they were close to each other, had never shown that they really cared about each other; it was for this reason alone that Athair's words came as such a surprise. "You're worried about grandfather Sabre?"

            "He's my son. Of course I'm afraid." Athair paused for a moment; realization dawned upon his features. "Knuckles, despite that we never shown it, we're still family. We love each other, as fathers and sons should. We spent our lives together. I'm afraid that we'll lose that."

            The conversation came to a halt at that; as the words truly sank within Knuckles' mind, his own fear bloomed.

            He feared for his father, and of never seeing him again.

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            The moment Sojourner realized that he could not move, fear rose; as a great green glow could be witnessed from the corner of his vision, fear exploded. Somehow, it deeply disturbed him that his hate could no longer surpass the fear.

            He did not have to see Enerjak to know he was there; his presence could be felt within the very core of his being. Sojourner wondered if his fear empowered his nearly godly enemy, or if it simply made the situation worse for himself. He supposed it did not matter; in the end; all there would be was pain.

            Enerjak walked within his line of sight, even as his body was lifted from the ground; all movement, save for his facial features, were restricted. However, Sojourner still trembled.

            Enerjak held what appeared to be a packet of clothing in one hand; his other clutched at Sojourner's jaw.

            "You look so much like him." Fascination, clearly expressed.

            Sojourner could only stare in continued fear; it was back to similarity, he subconsciously groaned.

            With a suddenness that came as a shock, Sojourner was dropped back upon the ground; he groaned outwardly, pain from previous tortures only being aggravated by the rough handling. The packet was tossed, landing several inches from his frame.

            "Put it on."

            Confusion bordered at the edge of fear, evolving into base wariness. One hand moved to grab the cloth, while the other to stretch it out, if only to see what he was being told to wear; once he beheld a full view of the cloth, shock froze his blood.

            Sojourner recognized the simple single-piece garment from nearly ancient family albums; it was identical to Edmund's clothing. He looked up at Enerjak in utter shock; was he truly expected to wear his dead ancestor's clothing?

            A low, dangerous growl released itself from behind a great golden mask; a warning to do as he was told. However, shock and horror were strong barriers, and no amount of fear could break them down. A new horror struck Sojourner as he found himself unable to move once again.

            The cloth was lifted from the floor with a small, green glow; Enerjak grabbed hold of it once it was within his range.

            "I gave you a chance."

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            "You can't be serious, Princess." A stunned voice wavered over a video screen. "You want to risk how many lives for this?"

            "I know this may sound like a bad situation, but we need all the help we could possibly get." Princess Sally Acorn audibly sighed. "Knothole simply doesn't have the manpower to pull this off."

            Multiple faces over several video screens appeared deep in thought. A screen smaller than all the others displayed that the connections were secure.

            "Princess, the way you told it to us, it sounded nearly hopeless." A female wolf of lavender shade spoke from one of the screens; the words 'Wolf Pack' were displayed on the corner of the image. "This creature – Enerjak, you called him? – seems as if a god."

            "He is a damned god." An echidna spoke from another; 'Albion'. "This being has been in legends for hundreds of years!"

            "You cannot zeriously be expecting us to be risking all of our livez against a godly creature for four people, no matter who zey are." A seal with a thick French accent stated from a screen marked 'Arctic Region'. "Eet eez zimply imposseeble."

            "It's not simply four lives! Enerjak threatens the entire world. He's already conquered the floating island, he'll eventually move on to other continents!" Sally attempted to persuade the other Freedom Fighter leaders.

            Silence passed for several long minutes. Sally looked desperately from screen to screen, from face to face, silently pleading for assistance through expression.

            "I am sorry, Princess." A quiet sigh passed from what appeared to be a manta ray. "The Forty Fathom Freedom Fighters simply cannot fight on land." The screen blanked without another word.

            "Th' Downunda Freedom Fighters are still cleanin' up th' mess ol' Crocbot left. We can't 'ford t'stretch our group over such a long distance." A second screen lost connection.

            Sally frowned deeply. She silently hoped, prayed, that not all those she called upon would refuse to help.

            "The tribe of Albion will offer any assistance it can. The Guardians have been protecting our kind for generations. It would be inexcusable if we didn't help where we could."

            "The soldiers of the Golden Hive Colony are ready to leave as soon as possible. Like hell that I wouldn't help any family of Knuckles."

            "It would be dishonorable if we did not offer assistance. You have the complete support of my kin."

            A smile crossed the princess's face, as the remaining groups answered in kind. Perhaps there was some hope, after all.

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            A slight wince played along the features of Locke Echidna as a gloved hand made contact with a bruise; despite the chaotic blood flowing through his veins, he had not been able to heal all of his wounds.

            The Dark Legionnaires had taken an interest in interrogation; likely, he believed, due to his relation with Knuckles. Who else would know the location of a hiding Guardian than his father?

            He sighed, a sound of utter regret and worry. Pain was tangible, but he did not worry about his own well being, nor, for the moment, that of his son; his ancestor was upon his mind.

            Locke had not seen Sojourner for at least two days. Screams and cries of pain were clearly heard at seemingly random times; the entire base likely heard them, came a saddened muse.

            However, now, there were no screams. It did little to sooth the fear.

            Several long minutes were spent in silence and worry. Only when he found himself unable to move did he release an audible sound.

"Oh, shit."

            The cell around his form faded to that of another; after a brief moment of taking in the new surroundings, he found himself unable to suppress the first thought that came to mind.

            "Oh, my god."

            It was clearly a room of pain; equipment of torture and death lined the walls, and long dried blood littered the floor.

            "Locke?" He turned quickly; his father stood several feet away, the same expression of shock along his own face.

            "Sabre! Locke!" Thunderhawk walked towards the pair, eyes wide; it seems all but Sojourner had been transported here.

            A green glow suddenly encompassed the three former Guardians; forced to turn with out their consent, they were forced to witness a new terror. The three gasped, nearly simultaneously.

            Enerjak himself, clothed in his usual armor, sat upon what could only be described as a metal throne. However, their captor's presence was not what surprised them most; a form they were all familiar with sat upon Enerjak's lap.

            Despite the sudden eerie similarity to their dead ancestor, clothed in his garbs, they immediately recognized the motionless body as Sojourner. He was still, as limp as a rag doll, and that was what worried them most.

            A gasp escaped Locke, as he found himself moving through the air; it came quick, and with out warning. He stopped, floating within the air, less than a foot away from the godly being.

            Widened eyes stared, yet not at the self proclaimed god; they wandered to a form that radiated pain and despair. It was then that Locke realized, as a new pit of fear was formed, that his ancestor was not merely upon Enerjak's lap; he was impaled within it.

            The pained ex-Guardian turned his head slowly; no struggles were made. Sojourner's eyes, wide, blood shot, could only return the worried stare with one of pain; a long, metal gag was wrapped around and within his face. No sound escaped; none was able to. An armored hand wrapped itself around his body, pinning his arms at his sides.

            Three former Guardians were unable to do anything; this knowledge festered, as if a virus, upon their minds.

            A twisted snarl, an expression of complete anger, came upon Locke's face; he opened his mouth to speak, yet was interrupted.

            "Where is your son?" Low, dangerous; Enerjak all but growled.

            Somehow, the question caught Locke by surprise. After a brief moment of shocked silence, the anger returned. "Y-You bitch! You're torturing Sojourner right in front of us, and you expect me to tell you anything?!"

            Eyes narrowed behind a golden mask; silence passed for a brief moment. A soft whine, akin to a canine, started to escape from the back of a gagged throat. After a moment, the armored face turned slightly; expression came to stand upon the remaining captives.

            Gasps escaped from both Thunderhawk and Sabre, as they were separated in the air. They shared worried expressions, before Enerjak spoke anew, glancing between Sabre and Locke.

            "He is your father. Isn't that right?" Enerjak's tone continued to warn of impending danger. The smile that crossed their captor's face only impressed the warning.

            "Tell me where your son is hiding, or I will kill your father."

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Thunderhawk: ….. Hey, what to do you know. I'm mentioned, again.

Locke: …Wow, I have absolutely no idea what to say to you, anymore.

Sabre: o_O What.. I.. Ack! Now I want to be ignored and overlooked. O_o

Sojourner: *sits, annoyed* Join the club, Sabre.

Nevermore: Kyahaha. :3 As the saying goes: it's gonna get worse before it gets better.

Enerjak: *grinning in a corner* :D

Sabre: …I am so dead, aren't I? O.o;

Nevermore: Hehe. You'll see. ^_- Viva la feedback, readers! My muses feed off of reviews!