Knuckles had to put his contemplations to rest for the time it took him to return to the store. After all, he desperately wanted to avoid the foul-up he'd caused earlier.

It was difficult to do. He had much to think about.

As the store came into view, however, a sight horrified him. There was the machine he'd seen the hoodlum echidnas in! And there were the hoodlums, huddled together outside the store. He analyzed their faces to be sure. No mistaking them—his memory was perfect, these were the same echidnas. One of them held a conical container with some cloth sticking out of it; another held a small device that was outputting flame.

Flame!

Fire!

Knuckles hated it, hated the damage it caused. And these echidnas were acting as if fire was their plaything.

Knuckles' body shifted to full battle mode—awareness at the peak, senses sharp, muscles tense, systems ready. He released the Master's power as he approached the hoodlums. Without waiting for them to recognize him, he charged into their midst.

While he was in the air, he promised to himself not to kill any of them. With that in mind, he struck.

The velocity of his body check hurled an echidna back into their vehicle. The blow stopped Knuckles' motion, and he took advantage of the other echidnas' slow reactions.

The echidna with the fire machine tried to take a swing at him. Knuckles saw it coming. He pivoted on one foot, dodging the blow. Without missing a beat he continued the motion, twirling around. With that energy, he dealt a vicious backhand to the echidna that held the fire machine, knocking him to the ground. It wasn't enough to shatter vertebrae, but more than enough to incapacitate the recipient.

Simultaneously, he unloaded a kick to another's knee. The blow shattered the echidna's kneecap and sent fragments of bone slicing into the joint, all but tearing the limb off. The echidna fell to the ground, shrieking in pain.

The hoodlum with the bottle received a complementary blow to the genitals, followed by a chop to the back of the neck that left him senseless.

One of the hoodlums tried to grab Knuckles and pin his arms. Knuckles responded by easily breaking the attacker's grip, his strength more than enough to overcome his puny assailant. He followed by twisting the attacker's arms together, breaking both in multiple locations. He let the echidna slump to the ground, paralyzed by pain.

Knuckles glanced around, looking for the final echidna. There had been six, he was sure.

Crack!

Knuckles whirled about. One of the echidnas slumped half-in, half-out of their machine. Standing next to him was Myla, a broken broomstick in her hand and a grim smile on her face.

"The coward tried to run," she said. "If you're gonna be despicable, you should at least be brave about it."

Knuckles actually laughed. "I will get something to tie them with," he said.

"Are you sure you need to? You're a great fighter."

He laughed again. That was a massive understatement. "I am sure. We cannot watch them forever."

She shook her head. "For someone who's always trying to help, you sure enjoy fighting a lot."

He shrugged. "Enjoy? No. However, when I have come to a conclusion, I can be more… loose? I am not sure how to put it," he admitted. "That is, when I see what must be done, I can do it with a freer heart."

She nodded. "You sure did do it. Come on, this way." They got rope and returned to the bodies. "That was, what, six on one? And it lasted a whole six seconds?"

"It was a non-lethal fight," Knuckles said solemnly. "These are not real fighters. It could have been shorter, but I did not wish to kill them. Real fights are over almost instantly—bodies are fragile, and competent, strong fighters can kill at once."

"Like you? Competent and strong like you?"

He nodded. "I have known few like myself. When I find one, the fight is always much longer. More memorable. I never lose, but sometimes my opponent lives."

His body by then had released its tension, and he'd shrunk as his muscles relaxed. Now that this was almost complete, Myla became less openly anxious—she was relaxing too, he thought. "How are you able to do so many incredible things? I mean, you can float, you can run so fast, your muscles get so big you can crush bones with ease—how can you do these things?"

Knuckles hesitated. She was asking about the reason for his existence. It was a huge security risk to tell her. At the same time, though, he felt almost compelled to tell her—by what, he knew not, but the feeling was there.

It was a huge risk. Even though he felt he wanted to reveal things to her, the principle of maximum security was embedded deeply into him. Telling her about the Master seemed to violate his existence—yet at the same time, he saw no other compelling reason not to tell her. The directive was in place to prevent harm, yet he failed to see how harm could arise out of the situation.

These thoughts passed through his mind in moments. He still had not decided. He was fed up with indecision and resolved to tell her. If something went wrong, he'd be able to force himself to do the right thing. He knew that. Besides, she was neither a threat nor an enemy.

Explaining would require some time. He finished tying up the hoodlums and stood. Myla said to them, "The police will be here in the morning, so I suggest you rest a while." Seeing as only a few of them were conscious, it was hardly a necessary statement, Knuckles thought.

Knuckles followed Myla into the store. "My strength…" he began. She turned, eager to hear him. Her eagerness unnerved him, and he almost stopped, but managed to press on. "What I tell you cannot be revealed to anybody. It is a great secret, and it is important that very few know of it." There, he thought. He'd followed his obligation to maintain security—and he'd silence her if she tried to reveal anything in his presence. On the other paw, it did obligate him to keep her in his presence for the time being at least—yet the thought was not at all repulsive to him.

"In the center of this island, there is a large jewel. An emerald, larger than you or I. Very large. And in it is great power."

He kept his eyes locked on hers. "There are others as well. They call themselves the Children of Chaos. Others call them Chaos Emeralds. The one on this island is the Master Emerald.

"I am a servant of the Master Emerald. I protect it and maintain it. I ensure no one can steal it and abuse its power. In this way, I protect the whole world, for the whole world would be at risk if its power were unleashed."

She stared back at him for several seconds. Then her face seemed to explode.

Knuckles jumped backwards. His nerves, always on moderate alert, were primed in these circumstances; and for once he felt that this impulse was not serving him well. For immediately after he jumped, he saw that she was laughing at him.

Knuckles' gut felt like he'd produced way too much stomach acid, and that all of that acid was now working its way into the deep recesses of his body. She hadn't taken him seriously—not in the least! Thoughts seared him. Why has she stirred these emotions in me? The angry thoughts raced through his mind, bypassing all the logic gates of his analysis.

A single voice spoke up in his mind. Why do you let her have such power over you?

All his analyses short-circuited. WHAT?

You have opened to her. Her opinion matters to you. You want her acceptance.

Why?

If Knuckles had dwelt much longer upon those issues, they would have torn him apart. Much to his salvation, however, Myla gave him something to focus on other than introspection.

"You weren't kidding, were you?" she said, her laughter quickly falling away.

His insides burned—she hadn't taken him seriously! "No," he said strongly. One of his still-functioning brain cells noted that her denials decreased the security risk she posed, but that was poor comfort to him in his state.

"Well, I, uh…" She struggled to find words to say to him, not daring to look him in the face.

At least, he thought, she noticed the hole she punched in me.

"I actually think I've heard of something like that," she said, nodding sagely.

"You asked where my strength comes from," he reminded her. It's your fault, he added mentally.

"Yeah, I did. Actually, it makes some sense. You're here to guard it, so it tries to make your job easier. I understand."

The pain lightened on him. Somewhat.

She looked at him with a softer—but, at the same time, worried—face. "I didn't mean to hurt you," she professed.

What she meant, Knuckles thought. It makes no difference.

He was taking things too harshly, and he knew it. To try and correct his behavior, he searched for things to say. "That is why I have been here for such a long time," he offered.

She nodded. "Do you know your age? I mean," she added quickly, "exactly how long you've been here?"

"No. But it is very, very long. I have seen… snakes, for example. I have seen many generations of snakes, as many as there are leaves on a tree, or perhaps more."

"That's a very long time!" she exclaimed. "I mean, if that estimate of yours is even close… I can't imagine how old you must be."

"You do not believe me again?"

"No, no, no. It's just hard to grasp how long that is. And we—other echidnas—have never been here?"

"Never," he said, tiring of the repetition.

She thought about it. "Why are we appearing now? Why have we been gone all this time?"

He smiled. "Those are the questions I have asked myself since you arrived."

"In that case, I don't think a little sleep would hurt, don't you agree?"

He pondered for a moment. He couldn't see a time imperative at the moment, so he nodded. "I agree."