Solidchristian_88, sorry for being a meanie! I hope this chapter makes you feel better... for a while... *snicker*
Asher Tye, it's not really a spoiler so I can answer as long as I don't go into much detail. Merlin is yet to play an important role... what that is exactly though, you'll have to wait and see. ;-)
Once more I thank and humbly bow down to you all for the wonderful reviews that you're giving. I hope this chapter doesn't dissapoint!
Chapter 9: A Funny Little HabitMiles felt like shit.
He had barely had a few hours of sleep last night, and why? Because of thoughts running rampant in his mind of what was going to happen today. Whether or not he would betray the Freedom Fighters without knowing it, whether or not he would get killed, and whether or not the mission would succeed. There had been other thoughts too as he lay there staring at the ceiling, one of the most of which being his somewhat screwed up state of mind.
There was no denying it, and no matter how much he hated it he couldn't ignore the truth- everything seemed so damn mellow. This, he supposed, was how normal emotions felt. Having had his emotions increased in their intensity years ago when he was transformed into this hybrid of flesh and metal, this, in comparison to what he had before, felt so dull!
It wasn't that Miles' feelings now were dull of course, or that he was really emotionless; to expound, it was like having a torch shone directly in your eyes and then walking into a darker room. He needed to adjust from the previous intensity to the new level of stimulation, and surprisingly... to some new feelings as well.
The single most powerful thing on his mind had been Amy. He just hadn't been able to get her out of his head. That had been a first, he'd never thought about a girl for more than a few minutes at a time, and never like that either. He kept thinking how pretty she looked, and that had annoyed him. It was like being a teenager or something, so he had grabbed onto his comparatively mellow anger and held it, comforted by its vague familiarity.
And to top it off, when he had finally drifted off to sleep, he'd gone and had a nightmare of when he'd woke on a harsh metal table in Robotropolis, the operation to put in his claws still in progress. That, he could honestly say, was the single most horrifying event of his entire life.
All of this combined was why he was so pissed off right now. It wasn't a... strong feeling by his standards, but Miles would be damned if he was going to ignore it.
"Stupid collar," he muttered whilst tugging on it for the umpteenth time, all the while eyeing the next part of the uniform he had been conned (in his opinion) into wearing- the flak armour vest.
He didn't like this thing. Not at all, and, hell, he only had the jumpsuit on so far!
This was Amy's doing. Damn it, why did she have to be so good at arguing? After the wake up alarm had gone around the dorm area of the palace, he'd found a note poking out from beneath his door. That note had given him orders from 'high command' that he was to report to the barracks to be issued with 'Freedom Fighter MKII Powered Armour'. Which was strange, he thought, because 'high command' were Sonic and Sally, and they were hardly able to give him orders right now.
He'd wondered who it was for a moment, but Antoine didn't really have the gall to try to force him into it, and Rotor didn't have the will to either. Amy was the only leader remaining who would try this, so he'd asked her about it, somewhat awkwardly thanks to last night, at breakfast- her similarly awkward answer told that he had been right.
Apparently, morale had been low amongst the troops last night after the meeting. So, in a bid to improve it, Amy had told a few of them that he was Miles Prower, Sonic the Hedgehog's old sidekick, and that he was going to fight with them. Word had spread like wildfire, and so she thought it best that he wear one of the leader uniforms to follow through with it, to 'inspire them to fight on'. Hence the note. Miles had been able to see the wisdom in that move, because he knew full well that they'd need all the help they could get- so he had agreed... grudgingly.
That hadn't eased his conscious though.
In all honesty, Miles didn't feel worthy of wearing it. It was just like he had told Sonic and Sally when they had presented it to him before, he didn't feel like he deserved such a thing. He wasn't the right sort of person to be a Freedom Fighter.
The anger didn't surface, either.
But it still had to be done, and on the plus side it would increase his chances of surviving long enough to find the kids. There was no armour better than this in all of Mobius, and on the odd chance that he came out in one piece afterwards, perhaps they'd let him keep it as a reward for his service. Granted it was known as Freedom Fighter equipment and proudly displayed Freedom Fighter markings, but he'd be able to work on that. A lick of paint would work wonders.
So he was putting it on now... but truth be told, he'd still rather just have his jacket back.
"Okay, the vest now, right?" he asked Antoine, the only other person in the armoury room with him, as he stood with both arms out at his sides. It was only when he'd got the uniform from the hanger that he had noticed that it was constructed in layers; the baggy black jumpsuit had no flak plates attached directly to it. Instead, they were mounted onto a vest which was worn over the jumpsuit. The shoulder pads hung from the top of the armholes and were secured with leather straps that ran under the armpits.
"Oui, just put it on over your head, meester Prower," Antoine answered before turning back to his own uniform. The coyote was already busy putting on the last part, the shin guards, by use of straps similar to the ones that secured the shoulder pads. Miles eyed him for a moment, wondering how he had managed to get his on so fast- probably drilled into him, he decided.
Turning back to his own suit, the mercenary pulled on the black vest which was a little more difficult than expected thanks to the grey plates. The shoulder pads, one grey and the other orange, were secured quickly after which he turned his attention to the utility belt.
The belt held numerous pouches (for things like flares and explosives he found upon opening a few) and a holster for a blaster pistol. The pistol was more bulky than he would have liked, being constructed in three sections- the grip, the blocky energy pack, and the barrel which looked like a short, thick silencer.
The gauntlets followed, and once they were securely attached with more leather straps Antoine pointed out a small switch on the left one. Miles flicked it, and a few of the seven LEDs lit up- pink, white, yellow... and orange. A wire protruding from the back of the jumpsuit arm plugged into it, which carried power up the arm, across the back and then down the other arm where another plug fitted into the other gauntlet. This made the radio operable.
The boots were straightforward, standard military style with laces. Unfortunately they were little tight- but he wouldn't complain. It didn't matter a whole lot anyway, and besides, everything else fit quite well. Not perfect, but good enough, and at least there was a larger hole in the back of the jumpsuit for both of his tails to poke through.
The final piece was the shin guards, in the same style as all the other flak plates- angular in shape and dull grey in colour.
So there he stood, Miles Prower, in the uniform that had been intended and constructed for Tails. The Freedom Fighters had finally got their way.
That thought really pissed him off... well, as much as it could under his rather unique circumstance, anyway.
With a approving smile and a nod, Antoine led Miles out of the armoury and onto the dusty streets of Knothole. This was the first time he had really been out here without trying to avoid anyone, so he took the opportunity to admire the strange camouflaged architecture of this, new, Knothole. The buildings looked like small green hills, a stark contrast to the harsh and imposing structures of Chestnut.
It wasn't long before they came to the main street that ran from the palace up to the city gates. Standing in formation outside the palace was what was left of the Knothole army; almost sixty Mobians of various races, all wearing their blue-grey uniforms and holding black blaster rifles. They were divided into ten squads of four or five troopers and a sergeant, and each squad was assigned it's own transport in the form of a military issue hover-car. At the head of the group stood Amy, Rotor (both of whom were already in their black and grey suits), and a fully-grown green dragon. Rotor saw the two approaching, and said something quietly to Amy. She looked over to them, smiled, then gestured for the soldiers to go to their transports.
"You, uh, you look good," Amy said to Miles relatively smoothly once they were close enough. He raised an eyebrow.
"I feel like a tank," he replied flatly, tapping his chest armour. She grinned.
"I know, but you'll get used to it. Don't worry." Having greeted the mercenary, she looked over to Antoine to receive any last minute instructions. Though the coyote wasn't the most skilled leader, nor the best fighter, he was the Captain of the Royal Guard and with that came a lot of tactical training. He was therefore the most qualified to take over leadership in the absence of the Royal Family, which was why he had been placed mostly in control of the meeting yesterday.
"Lieutenant Rose, are we ready now to depart?" he asked in that French accent of his.
"Yes Captain. The troops are getting into their transports now, and weapons are ready. We're the only ones left."
"Good. You are to take command of squad Page's transport, and Meester Prower is to go with you. Lieutenant Rotor is to remain with me on ze command vehicle."
"Who is staying behind to guard Knothole, sir?"
"Zat task shall belong to Dulcy," Antoine said looking up at the dragon.
"Don't worry everyone!" Dulcy said with a confident smile. "I'll look after every- hey, who are you?"
Her scaly long neck brought her face swooping down, stopping a few inches before Miles' own and allowing her to look at him inquisitively. He stared back at her, not really appreciating having an organic flamethrower invading his personal space.
"Well I'll be!" Dulcy chimed as recognition lit up in her eyes. "You're Tails, aren't you? Wow, it's so good to see you again!"
Images filled his mind of the last time he had seen the dragon, images of her walking away from him, thinking he was a murderer. He didn't like that at all, especially because he now was a murderer, in a way. "Uh, yeah. Thanks," he said quickly before looking to Antoine. "Shouldn't we be going now?"
"Oui! Quite right meester Prower, it is time. We shall bring a great victory to Knothole today!"
"Good luck guys!" Dulcy said, wings flapping and lifting away from them with limited grace.
"Very well, sir," Amy said, then looked to the two-tailed fox. "Come on Miles, we'd better get set."
He nodded and followed her away from the three Freedom Fighters down the street towards where the twelve green hover-cars were waiting, and where the soldiers were now embarking them via boarding ramps at the back.
"Lieutenant, eh?" he asked once they were out of hearing distance.
"Yeah, that's my official Freedom Fighter rank. None of the leaders really use it, but in military operations we have to. For the troops."
"Ah."
There was an uncomfortable silence for a short while as they made their way down the dusty road.
"Look, Amy," Miles said with a tired sigh, "about last night. I'm... sorry, I didn't mean to throw everything on you like that. I was just tired and..."
"No, no!" she replied softly. "Don't apologise for saying what you did, we all doubt ourselves sometimes... and I know these last two weeks has been tough for you."
He grimaced. They had, there was no denying it. But he knew that they had been tough for others too, and he was pretty certain that it was all mostly his fault. What he had told her last night... It was the truth. He was pretty certain that the machines had tracked him to Knothole because it was the only viable answer. It was just too much of a coincidence that he had been in the middle of every attack, and that all of the attacks had occurred only recently. Usually he wouldn't listen to what the enemy had to say but, heck, even the Guyde had said that they had followed him.
Still, it didn't really matter anymore, because before long he'd be leaving with a fat wallet or in a body bag, and either way, he'd be able to put this particular adventure behind him then. And with any luck, he'd get the chance to take out the Guyde before one of those happened.
"Yeah, but I'm still sorry. It's not like me to unload everything like that."
"In that case, I'm sorry for... well, you know..."
By the red tint to her cheeks, he knew exactly what she was referring to.
"Why?"
"You... You looked a bit shocked."
"No, I was just surprised. It's been a long time since I've had any... affection... like that."
This appeared to be the first time Amy realised that, and she looked at him sadly.
"But it was nice, so... thanks, I guess," he said before she could reply. To be honest, the kiss had shocked him, and it had confused him. It had kept him awake for most of the night, too. But Amy didn't need to know that.
His face was expressionless as he watched her from the corner of his eyes, but he felt like he was smiling as the awkwardness between them dissolved. Amy seemed to pick up on it, and smiled in return.
"Come on," she said, walking up to one of the transports and entering via the back access ramp. He followed, finding himself in a small dark metal room with three seats running down either side. Five of the seats were occupied by Freedom Fighter troopers who saluted Amy simultaneously. She mirrored the gesture loosely.
"Good morning guys!" she said. "Miles, I'd like to introduce you to squad Page."
The five troopers waved him a brief hello and he responded in kind. A glance towards Amy showed that she had sat down in a seat set facing away from them, forward of the compartment beneath a smooth glass canopy. All manner of read outs were arrayed around her as well as controls for, he guessed, making the hover-car move.
Near to the cockpit was one remaining empty seat which he dropped into heavily. Directly across from him was a badger who looked to be around Miles' own age, though far healthier.
"So! You're the fella who took out all o' those swatbots n' lived, eh?" the badger asked gruffly as the rear hatch closed with an electronic hum.
"Maybe."
"Ah well me an' my squad I don't care much for mercenaries, but anyone who kills mechs n' bots like you is a friend o' mine. Name's Page, Sergeant Page."
"Prower," Miles replied leaning forward to shake his hand. "And don't you mean 'Mechanists'? There is a difference between them and mechs, you know."
"Nah mate, they're all the enemy now. Buildin' swatbots makes them just as bad as ol' Robotnik, and stealin' all our jobs is too much! It's 'bout time we went and kicked their asses!"
Miles suddenly felt very uncomfortable, and very self-conscious.
"What do you mean 'stealing jobs'? You've still got yours."
"There're takin' over everywhere! All their crappy goods are swampin' our markets and we can't compete with their speed and prices! They'll make all us normal people go bankrupt whilst they line their pockets!"
Miles decided then and there that he shouldn't talk to this guy unless he had no other alternative. He sounded like he was high on propaganda of the mech-racists... And by the looks on the faces of his squad members, they were all in agreement.
And it was propaganda, he knew. Some mechs had set up states of their own a number of years ago and the first of three, Machina, was home for many mechs with mechanical arms. They were a ready-made mechanised force and rich anti-mechs were terrified that one day they'd become so great in number that the rest of Mobius wouldn't be able to keep up with them in terms of producing goods for export. Miles thought it to be an excuse for radicalism though because, after all, mechs would one day die out. It wasn't like their children would have metal body parts as they were born or anything, but to many normal Mobians that didn't seem to matter. They would always respond that there were mech 'families' around, and that fact alone proved that they would grow like any other race. No one ever took the time to notice that the... 'families', were 'family' in name only. They were more like a small group trying to support each other in a harsh world.
The squad continued to talk amongst themselves along a similar line of conversation, so Miles refused to get involved in it. Instead, he did his best to cover his knuckles for his own state of mind whilst drowning himself in the whine from the engines as the hover-car began to move. It went slowly at first but increasingly quicker as they approached the gates of Knothole. Amy steered it into position behind another car as the one behind them followed suit, and soon they all formed a long convoy line.
They cruised out of the town and into the Great Forest following a set path that safely avoided the surrounding trees. Miles occupied himself by looking out of the pilot's canopy and, after a few minutes, could make out a new and strange structure. It was set out in the middle of a clearing and looked like a large grave- a monument of some kind, built in grey stone and white marble with a large plaque on the front. But it wasn't the splendour of the thing that caught his attention, despite how much work had clearly gone into his construction; instead... it was that old fox in the blue cloak.
He was standing in front of it, staring straight at him.
Surprised, Miles jumped up and looked over Amy's shoulder whilst holding onto one of the support rails running down the length of the passenger compartment in an attempt to get a better look at the figure with the infuriating smile. But as soon as he moved, he was gone without a trace.
"Miles?" Amy questioned, glancing up at him. "What's wrong?"
He remained silent for a moment, then brought up a hand and pointed out of the canopy.
"What's that?" he said sharply. Amy looked to where he was gesturing, then turned her attention back to following the vehicle in front.
"That's the monument dedicated to everyone who died fighting Robotnik. The army that was assembled to defeat him left for Robotropolis from there... and a lot of them didn't come back. Very few bodies were recovered, so Sally ordered it to be built in memory of them."
"It's a bit out of the way, isn't it?" he said, still watching the monument carefully as they passed.
"There was a big debate on where to put it. Some wanted it in the middle of the town, so that we wouldn't forget. But most found it more appropriate here. People still remember it and visit, but it's... kind of representative of us moving on."
Miles nodded as it disappeared out of sight, thoughts turning from what the thing was about to wondering exactly who that fox was. It was annoying him that he couldn't remember who it was. He had a good memory for faces, and he was certain that he had never seen the old fox before his return to Knothole.
There was the possibility that the fox was a figment of his imagination, of
course, perhaps because of the stress of all that had happened recently.
Alternatively his bionic eye could be playing up. He hadn't cleaned it for a
while, so there was always the chance that it was malfunctioning.
Or, he could simply be going crazy. The only part of that idea that didn't make much sense was why he hadn't done so already.
But the fox looked so real! Miles could have sworn that he was really there! It was like he was trying to tell him something... or, perhaps, trying to guide him...
"Attention all craft," Rotor's voice came over the radio, sounding sharp and tinny thanks to the electronics of the device. It snapped Miles from his confused thoughts, though the fox didn't know whether to be angry for that or thankful. "I'm uploading waypoint information and the location of the bunker to your navigation computers... now. Everyone head for waypoint-1."
A beep came from the machine around the car's controls, and the computer screen lit up with a physical map of the land north of Knothole. A purple line zigzagged upwards between numbered waypoints leading up to a circle placed directly over what looked like a river on the other side of the land known as the Green Hill Zone, rolling smooth hills north of the Great Forest that Knothole had claimed when it formed it's own nation. The mercenary looked at it for a while.
"That purple dot's the bunker, right?" he asked.
"Yeah, our destination," Amy replied whilst banking the craft slightly to be moving directly towards the first waypoint. The autopilot then switched on, immediately taking control by adjusting course every few seconds to avoid the trees.
"Well... That river, isn't it the Rhine?
She looked at the map for a moment and nodded.
"That's the border to Machina," Miles said quietly.
Machina was a small nation, and was built on mostly infertile land with limited natural resources thanks to air currents that had brought clouds of pollution from Robotropolis down upon it. It had been left alone because of this- no state would have anything to do with it, but there were always people desperate for land where they could be safe. Like, for example, mechs.
Some states over the world were so extreme in their prejudice against the partially robotisized Mobians that eventually some founded a city on the desolate land that ran north-west of the Great Forest. A place free of racism and danger, a place that mechs could call home- the City of Machina. The skills that each mech had, be it strength, speed, or whatever, allowed them to build quickly and soon they were able to work on the land itself to make it fertile once more.
It was the first of it's kind, but it was not long before allies sprang up. Two more mech-controlled states sprung up nearby; Liberty and Tau. Liberty, as the name suggests, was a place where everyone would be equal and free. Tau, on the other hand was founded upon one of Robotnik's old bunkers marked Tau-27, and had very much become a nation dedicated to research and the ideals of bettering oneself.
Of course, most of this was rumour. What Miles knew was, anyway. He'd never really been to these places as another state, the People's Republic, was between where he had been in Chestnut and the closest mech state, Liberty. Going to Machina via Knothole on the other hand had been completely out of the question.
However, this was interesting. Word had it that Machina, the only mech state to touch the Kingdom of Knothole, had always done it's best to be the perfect neighbour to the royal family. He imagined Knothole being friendly in reply mainly due to the efforts of one ex-mech, Bunnie Rabbot. Building a bunker right on the border was not something he'd expect the fledging nation to do, never mind going on to capture the a good chunk of Knothole's population with swatbots and a Cyborg no less.
It was no wonder that squad Page was so fired up with anti-mech propaganda... Propaganda against Machina.
Miles sat back down in his seat as the hover-car got underway on their journey. For the next few hours, not once did his mind drift from the idea that there was more going on here than meets the eye.
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In a bunker underground north of Knothole, Snivley gave a thin smile as he finished the first stage of his experiment.
The wolf was perfect. He was young and still not fully-grown so he would be able to survive this little modification, growing to accept it in both body and mind. All he needed to do was install the hormonal restraint, then robotisize a select portion of the brain with the serum that his uncle had developed over ten years ago, and there he'd have it- his own Cyborg specifically designed for combat at last.
It was that serum what made the process possible really, as injecting a liquid that invoked robotisization allowed for a far more controlled and accurate transformation than the gas they had used for making worker drones. With it, key parts of the brain could be identified and changed so that the finished result had machine thought patterns with the awareness of a living creature.
He couldn't do it yet, however. The wolf would have to be left for a few days to recover from having it's weapon implanted. Normally armament on a Cyborg would be left to the last step, but this was a new design whose head essentially was the weapon, and as such that part had to be completed before the more sensitive parts of the brain were touched.
Of course, if this were a normal Cyborg, he'd be doing something very stupid right now. Head mounted blasters were usually wired into the mind to be fired by thought alone, but in this case he had countered the problem by fixing a trigger near the temple. The wolf wouldn't be able to fire without being able to reach it, so he could be left strapped down and thus remain harmless.
Besides, the boy wouldn't wake up for a good few hours at least. Snivley had plenty of time to make sure his... test model was secure before then.
Looking away from the operating table, he noticed the Guyde standing at the ready near the doorway. In the dim moody light that he preferred to live in it looked most sinister with it's multiple glowing red eyes.
The thing had proven to be useful. Snivley had been more than a little sceptical at his lord's design for a machine that could not only track but also control that one particular Cyborg... The first Spyder. He hadn't been able to understand the point- far superior models could be (and had been) constructed yet his lord insisted that the partially mechanical fox remained under their control. There was something 'special' about him was his lord's reasoning, but what that special thing was, Snivley did not know.
The Guyde had been a difficult thing to construct, mainly because of it's basic requirements. It had to have a similar biological brain pattern to the incomplete Spyder for starters, so the first task was to find an appropriate host... and that could only be a family member of the same sex. A brother, a father, or a son. Nothing else would do.
Information on the fox had been extracted from the nearly destroyed Robotropolis computer archives, and all undamaged worker bots the Freedom Fighters had left behind were taken away too. They had been checked to see if there was any match between names and species- and they got lucky. An adult robotisized fox, marked 'A. Prower' was just the result they needed.
It had been a simple step to de-robotisize him and then transform his body to that of the Guyde.
There was the question now, however, of what he should do with it. Records showed the Spyder to be dead, so it had fulfilled it's purpose. It wasn't all that well prepared for close combat, having no major offensive capabilities other than strength and stealth... and almost every Cyborg model had those traits as standard anyway.
Snivley stroked his chin in thought, thoughts turning away from the silent biomechanical machine to anger at how he couldn't actually feel his chin.
The huge assault on Robotropolis ten years ago had been costly. He and his uncle had been in a bad way afterwards, having narrowly avoided the worst of the high charged explosives that had been set around the control room. He had still been crippled though, and it was only thanks to the Recovery Program, prepared not five days before, that he had survived.
He had lived, but the price was high. Most of his body was now robotisized.
Robotnik had been in a worse state, but the Recovery Program had stabilised him... Snivley had to do the rest, bound not by loyalty but by the fact that the man was, apparently, family.
Snivley was never one not to take advantage of circumstances, though. After all, the Golden Throne was immobile. Not because it had to be, but because he wanted it to be.
Suddenly, an alarm went off.
Surprised, Snivley dashed to his control room with clumsy, heavy steps. The main computer was turned on – it was never off – and displayed a map of the area around his base.
"Warning, incoming craft on an intercept course," the machine said crisply. Snivley's eyes widened, then closed as his expression turned to what could be likened to a sly cat. Thirteen Freedom Fighter transports he counted, represented by red dots closing fast to the southeast.
No problem for his mech forces. He disliked the Mechanist religious fanatics being inside his home, but they were too useful to get rid of just yet. Plus, they were required for the Plan. Propaganda could only go so far; there had to be action too, and they were perfect for it. All his lord had to do was make it seem like he was a 'Profit' for their religion, and they had flocked to his service like sheep.
Now... Now it was time to take them to the slaughter.
Activating the base loudspeakers, Snivley issued his orders with a grin.
-----------
The first sound of battle was the deep thud of mortars.
Had that not brought the Freedom Fighters to the peak of awareness, the following explosions certainly would have as the hover-car transports swooped between the flying shrapnel and mud that tore up the pristine green landscape of the Green Hill Zone around the river Rhine. They were close to the bunker now; it was built just a few hundred meters down river, and they were closing fast. Amy didn't need her HUD to see the grey metal doors built into the side of a particularly large hill, nor to see defensive trench before it that was well manned with Mechanists wielding all manner of weapons; including one aiming what appeared to be an anti-tank rocket launcher at her.
Hover-cars were not specifically military vehicles, but for the moment were the best vehicle they had for a fast assault like this. Unfortunately, like the one she, Bunnie and Cream had used to get to Chestnut, a good solid blaster shot could take it down, never mind a rocket. Even a glancing hit with one would turn them into a blazing inferno.
So, at about fifty metres from the enemy trench, Amy slammed on the brake jets, released the boarding ramp, and gave her first order of the mission.
"Incoming! Everyone out! Now!"
Her canopy flipped open and she jumped onto the hull of the craft, dropping down to the ground around the side. Amidst the pings of incoming fire and sprays of dirt, she dashed behind the ship and dived for the cover of a nearby mortar crater, Miles and the five members of squad Page close behind.
"Well," Miles shouted over the din of enemy fire, "I think it's safe to say that we're off to a great start, doncha think?"
She ignored him, drew her blaster pistol and rose up over the lip of the crater. She managed to get off a few shots in the general direction of the enemy, maybe hitting one before being forced back down again.
"Did anyone see what happened to the other 'cars?" she yelled.
"'Saw two go down ma'am, jus' after us!" Page replied, jumping up to fire a few bolts before dropping back again.
She swore under her breath. This wasn't supposed to happen- the swatbots recordings showed barely any Mechanists in the base, so where did all of these guys come from?
"Rotor! You seeing this?" she said, flicking on her arm radio.
"Amy, there- wait... All transports are down, I repeat, all transports have been destroyed!"
She flinched as a mortar bomb went of nearby, raining them with dirt.
"Well? What do we do?"
"You've fallen into a rough line... looks like most of the troops are okay, musta' got clear before their 'cars got taken out."
'Thanks for stating the obvious,' she thought darkly. It was okay for him and Antoine, staying back from the battleground in a single command transport outfitted with all manner of tactical displays and communication devices. Sure they knew what battle was like on the front line, but when taken back they seemed to lose the sense of emergency which she was certainly feeling. After all, Walkers knew how many Mechanists less than fifty meters away were trying to kill her. They didn't have that problem.
"Amy, stay where you are, we're looking for a weakness in their line. Keep firing!" Rotor said suddenly.
"Everyone fire at will!" she shouted, then leapt up and snapped off a few rounds of her own. Squad Page followed suit, but Miles... didn't.
"Miles! MILES!" Amy yelled, he not responding the first time. Instead, he was looking off to the flank of the battle line, towards the river Rhine.
"What?" he replied, finally looking at her.
"Just- Shoot them!" she said, gesturing towards the Mechanists.
But he didn't.
"Listen, I've got an idea!"
"We don't have time for mad plans-"
"Amy, trust me! Just charge when I give the word, alright?"
The mercenary didn't bother to wait for an answer. Amy could only watch in disbelief as he dove out from the limited cover of the crater into the very teeth of the enemy guns, running as fast as he could directly towards the river.
The hedgehog couldn't seem to take her eyes of him as he went, ducking and weaving between the puffs of grass and mud. At any moment she expected a bullet to strike him, smashing his skull or ripping into an arm and turning the fox into little more than a corpse. Page and his men were watching too, utterly dumfounded that someone would be willing to do something so stupid.
It was insane.
It was suicide.
...it was something that Sonic would do.
So this, she supposed, was how Sally felt.
----------
Miles didn't know what had possessed him.
Maybe it was the noise of it all. Normally, battle was loud but because of his sensitive hearing, it was the entire opposing force was shooting directly into his ears... yes, that was as good excuse as any. The noise had driven him mad, that had to be it.
It was a desperate gambit, but if it worked then this little skirmish would end far quicker than if both sides to remain taking odd shots at each other and loss of life on the Freedom Fighter side would be kept to a minimum. And all it required was to get to the Rhine... which was easier said than done, he thought, turning to avoid a line of bullets tearing up the beautiful green grass.
So far, about half of his success was thanks to the artificial Cyborg reflexes that had allowed him to prevent Shadow from killing princess Sally. Everything was flowing at normal pace, but whenever he picked up on a threat approaching either from seeing it, hearing it, even feeling it (were it to generate a great deal of air movement) then it would appear to him that the world had slowed to a snails pace. He'd know it was approaching, be able to judge when it would strike, and have all the time in the world to react to it.
And yet, in reality, nothing slowed at all. Instead, he sped up.
That was just half of the reason why he was still alive though. The rest, he knew, was simple dumb luck, the thing that had kept him alive for a good portion of his life.
He'd be dead without it.
Then with a surprising abruptness, the ground gave out beneath him to yield the crystal blue waters of the Rhine. Miles inwardly grinned in triumph as he fell into the river- he'd made it.
The mercenary allowed a few moments to orientate himself, twisting his tails together as he did so. Once he was facing downstream, he flicked them out, resulting in a propeller like action that allows him to cruise through the water, as though he were flying.
The feeling of floating brought pleasant memories to mind; memories of when he would fly everywhere by using his two tails. He had felt so free back then... Flying had been the prefect release. Very few people in Knothole had been able to fly, and out of all of them he was both the youngest and the best. That had been a point of pride for Miles for many years.
He didn't fly so often now. Very rarely, actually, mainly for two reasons- first, a flying fox attracted way too much attention. Not only was he essentially a mech, but a mutant too... and he hadn't been keen on letting all of Chestnut know that. Second was that it was quite a strain to do it now, and not because he had grown. That wasn't a problem- his tails had grown bigger with the rest of him after all. The trouble was that the metal that had been put into his wiry frame made him far heavier than he should be, and despite his enhanced muscles it was difficult to get his tails to spin fast enough to keep him off the ground for any great length of time.
When he had first found it difficult to fly, he'd been distraught. It was like he'd had his one talent torn from him, and been chained down to the floor by that most powerful force- gravity. It had been quite claustrophobic for a while.
But, he'd grown to accept it. Just like everything else.
Swimming out wide of his target, Miles looked up through the surface of the water for any sign of the Mechanist line. It wasn't long before he caught a glimpse of two half flesh, half machine creatures firing off a large black weapon mounted on a tripod behind the cover of torn up ground.
He turned towards them, gradually diving as he cut across the river with increasing speed. When he was just a few meters away from colliding with the bank, the fox suddenly twisted upwards, throwing everything he had into spinning his tails.
The machine gun team never knew what hit them as the Spyder exploded up from the river with the force of a missile.
The first mech was dispatched as Miles somersaulted into a crouch on his shoulders and thrust all six claws down though his head. The mercenary kicked off and away as the body fell like a sack of potatoes, landing on the second with his thighs clamped around the target's neck. With a flash the Mechanist's throat was cut, and, as Miles used his momentum to somersault once more, he was thrown into three of his comrades down in the trench, surprising them and sending all but one of their weapons flying.
The one who still held his rifle tight with metal hands franticly brought the weapon to aim on the new threat as he landed in a crouch before him. But before he could get a shot, Miles made a sweep-like kick, knocking the gun away and following through with an explosive jump-kick that sent the mech down into the mud and the mercenary soaring over him. The other two had by now recovered and charged on either side as Miles span between them, both receiving three blades to the face for their trouble.
Dazed, the grounded mech staggered to his feet and looked up to meet the eyes of his attacker. Miles stared back impassively, knowing what had to be done for the sake of the Freedom Fighters.
Five seconds later, the mercenary continued on his bloody way down the Mechanist trench with one more corpse left in his wake.
----------
Watching the battle unfold on the monitor before him, Snivley was steadily becoming angrier.
The mechs were failing- their solid defence was being picked apart on the right flank... and in an awfully continuous pattern- one at a time in one direction. Not the random hits from gunfire, no, this was too precise. Something was running down the line and killing his followers one by one.
Well, he wasn't about to let one Mobian get the better of him!
With a snarl and a curse at his rotten luck and moronic army, he activated the radio and gave new orders to his squad leaders.
"All units! There is a heretic coming down the right flank, forget the Freedom Fighters and stop it immediately!"
----------
Amy popped up once more and snapped of a few quick shots. She was getting desperate: Miles had disappeared, Rotor and Antoine couldn't find a weakness, and the entire assault force was pinned down. Page and his men were still with her and none had been killed or injured yet, but she could tell that they were getting just as frustrated as she. The rest of the force probably was, too.
She was beginning to consider throwing caution to the wind and committing to a charge now. That would at least get things over with, but all ideas of that sort were forgotten when, suddenly, the Mechanists stopped firing.
For a long moment she stayed down in cover expecting a trap but, soon, ever so slowly, she looked up over the lip of the crater to see silver hints of the mechs making their way to one side of their line.
"What the-?" she whispered.
----------
Miles was getting lucky again.
Had this trench system been built following a more basic design and turned out to be mostly a straight line, then he'd probably be dead by now. But, thankfully, the Mechanists had built it in the twisting angular pattern that was used to cut down the number of troops who could be killed by a single grenade- the same pattern that cut off line of sight and thus made him invisible to whoever was around the corner.
As for sound, well, that was taken care of by the guns. They drowned out the occasional screams of the mechs that either saw him before the first blow, or survived to meet the second perfectly.
He couldn't ask for more, to be honest. Thirteen kills already. At this rate, he'd destroy the enemy army on his own!
So taken was he of getting around the corner to take on the next squad what he didn't realise the mechs had stopped firing. When he was around the corner however he did realise, grinding to a halt in front of a group of perhaps seven Mechanists... all of whom were ready and waiting for him.
Faced with seven guns all trained on his forehead, Miles did what any self-respecting mercenary from Chestnut would do.
He swore.
"Shit!"
Enhanced muscles propelled him back around the corner just as puffs of mud burst from where he had been standing not one second before. He ran from the Mechanists' fanatical cries, pausing only to reach down and snap off a grenade from a corpse's belt- it would be useful in a moment.
It was then that Miles realised that the sound of gunfire had ceased. His plan had worked, though perhaps too well- they had noticed that he had taken a lot of their number and, true to form, they were now intent on 'delivering retribution'. He'd expected maybe one or two squads to give chase, giving a small opening for the assault group to take advantage of... but by the sounds of cries being echoed down the trench, practically the entire army was after his blood.
He followed the trench down the way he had come, doing all he could to avoid the sporadic enemy fire from behind. A glance back showed his pursuers were losing ground, but not fast enough- if he wasn't quick, then he'd run back into the river... at which point, he'd most certainly receive a bullet to the head. He needed a distraction... hence, the grenade.
As he turned a sharp right along the trench, he pulled the pin and dropped the green orb into the corner. A sharp left followed, exactly as expected, the perfect cover to shield him from the blast.
Once round he heard the weapon go off along with the accompanying screams of those unfortunate enough to be within the blast radius. That should hold them up for a few seconds- and that was all he needed.
Miles activated the arm radio of the Freedom Fighter uniform and yelled,
"Amy! Charge, now!"
----------
Snivley couldn't believe this was happening.
The Freedom Fighters, just a few moments ago pinned down by his troops, were now fearlessly running across no-mans-land and towards the trench. His fanatical soldiers on the other hand, under orders to kill the figure that had somehow managed to flank them, were completely oblivious to the approaching threat.
And no amount of screaming at the mech sergeants seemed to be getting their attention.
That was the trouble with fanatics, they were so difficult to control. Swatbots may not be smart, but at least when he told them to do something they went and did it without question- the main reason why he preferred them over the half-mechanical Mobians.
It looked like he was going to have to use them, too. Most of his Mechanists had been placed outside, and relatively few remained inside the base. But he did have divisions of swatbots- and they would have to do.
Abandoning the mechs outside to their fate, Snivley hit the inter-base communication link.
"All hands to battle stations!" he said, "Swatbots to take up defensive positions along sector-B5. Prepare to receive hostiles."
It wouldn't take them long to get inside, but they wouldn't get far. He had plenty of surprises in store; automatic guns, trap doors, mines, everything that he could think of was built into the corridors of his base. They would make the perfect backup, positioned around the sector-B inner ring of the base whilst the sector-C outer ring was occupied by his remaining troops.
Yes, he thought as he watched the Freedom Fighters annihilate the remaining Mechanists. That would work well-
Wait, was that...?
Frowning, he watched the Freedom Fighters regroup in front of the main doors of the bunker. It wasn't long before his suspicions were confirmed- there, moving towards the pink hedgehog who appeared to be in charge, was a fox. A very familiar fox.
So, the Spyder was alive...
Thinking that this could be a highly useful occurrence, Snivley pressed a button on his control panel, summoning the Guyde to action. Against the combined might of the Freedom Fighters, he knew it wouldn't be as capable as other models- so, he chose a special attack pattern. 'Gamma-349', the command to use a particular form of cover.
The air vents.
----------
Miles hated air vents.
They were dark, dirty, smelly and claustrophobic. Three things he disliked, topped off by the fact that when he get out (assuming he didn't get stuck), he'd have to deal with the annoyance of having spots of muck and grime clogging his fur, a most uncomfortable sensation for anyone.
This was Amy's idea. Normally he'd have disagreed, but there was a very, very good reason behind it.
Sure his actions outside had granted the Freedom Fighters access to the bunker, but in the process they had displayed quite clearly that he was a mech.
And the troops were here to kill mechs.
Gathering outside the door as a squad set explosives on the main doors, the entire assault force had been watching him with suspicion. He couldn't blame them to be honest- who wouldn't be wary of a two-tailed fox covered with splatters of mud and gore, with six, foot-long, blades sticking out of his arms?
It was Amy's decision that he ought to stay separate from the main force, just in case any of the soldiers got a bit trigger-happy... and, judging by the way numerous blaster rifles had been generally trained on him, that was quite likely.
He'd spotted another way in, or what he at least hoped to be another way in; an air duct cover protruding from a short metal wall a distance down the trench. The grating that covered it was welded down, but that was no problem for his claws.
So here he was, pushing his way through a stuffy square tube doing what he did so well- assassination.
Amy had told him to look for the commander and eliminate him. She may have meant to merely disable him, but he wasn't in the mood for something so half-hearted.
No, he'd gut the bastard. And he felt well justified to do so.
Meanwhile, Amy would take the soldiers on through the main entrance to eliminate any remaining resistance. He didn't for a moment that would succeed. She didn't need him to stick around her for anything so... 'masculine' as to act as a bodyguard. She was quite capable of taking care of herself. After all, she was a Freedom Fighter Lieutenant.
And go caught up in thoughts as he was, Miles didn't notice how his emotional levels were quickly heading back to what they used to be. He hadn't noticed a shadowy figure enter the air vent after him and sneak into the base corridors with startling speed, either.
----------
Snivley had always thought himself to be calm, to be cool under pressure, unlike his uncle. Back in Robotropolis he had yearned to be in control, knowing that he could to a better job, knowing that he wouldn't get angry and start pounding on computer consoles as the Freedom Fighters made their attacks.
Being in the hot seat, however, changed that.
"Dammit!" he seethed, slamming his metal fist down on the main control console. This was not going well- the cameras positioned along the corridors of his base allowed him to witness the Freedom Fighters take up excellent firing positions as they progressed. This let them cover each other perfectly as they made their way deeper into his lair, and despite the swatbots ability to hold them up and take out one occasionally, nothing seemed to stop them.
Despite his rage, Snivley knew the value of having a good escape plan. It was because of one which he pioneered that he was alive today, and naturally he had been certain to install one here. He was getting the feeling that he'd have to use it soon.
The emergency escape route was simple; a lift built into one corner of his control room that would take him up to the surface and into a personal hover transport. From there, he could go anywhere, safely placed a good distance from whatever danger had forced him to use it. He was confident that it would take him far out of Freedom Fighter reaches, bit the question was once he was away was, where would he go?
If he returned to his lord's base, no doubt he'd be killed for this particular loss. It would be better to meet up with some of the agents in the Chestnut State or the People's Republic- safety would be far easier to attain.
Yes, that was where he would go.
Snivley hit the switch on his control board that activated his escape route. It was best that he go now- delay too long, and they would catch him. Even if the Freedom Fighters were to merely see him, then they would know too much- the Plan would be in ruins. So, he made to strand.
And he would have stood too, were he able to.
The small human frowned as he tried to will the metal limbs into action once more, but again they would not respond. Come to think of it... None of his lower body would respond.
He looked down in alarm, and was met with the sight of a single blade protruding from his stomach, a blade that had impaled him from behind through his chair so smoothly he hadn't even felt it sever his spinal cord.
It slid out with a hiss, and he blinked in surprise. He would have thought that being stabbed would hurt a great deal, but of course his robotic body protected him from experiencing such trivialities.
It was terrifying to witness, nonetheless.
The blade flashed again, and Snivley knew no more.
----------
Standing behind the corpse of the man that had helped build it, the Snyper proceeded to execute the next stage of it's mission plan.
The human had died quickly from a slash that had separated his body into two, tearing through his chest from one side to the other. Normally, he would have cut the target's throat but that would have been too bloody; the body was robotisized whilst the neck was not, and mission parameters forbid him from leaving any trace.
Next stage: wiping the computer banks. An easy task, and completed in moments by plugging into the main computer with his palm-link. Everything was removed- communication and surveillance recordings, the history of activities, the very short staff list, everything, right down to the current orders for swatbots and automatic base defences.
That done, Shadow grabbed the two parts of his former commander and dragged them over to the escape lift. The Freedom Fighters would be here soon, and it could not waste any time and allow them to see the human's remains.
It made it, activated the elevator, and the doors sealed. The lift pulled away, the humming loud inside the control room for a few moments but gradually fading.
It was silent again by the time Miles Prower jumped out from one of the air vents, oblivious to the recent departure of his one-time friend.
----------
Another square metal grey room. Miles had dropped into many so far whilst avoiding the occasional blaster fire emanating from the corridors and most had been sleeping quarters, barracks for the Mechanists with plain beds and lockers arranged into neat continuous rows.
A few had been different; an armoury, a computer station and a shrine to the Machine God, but none had any Mechanists or swatbots within. He guessed they had all been scrambled for combat and now most were dead at the hands of the Freedom Fighters.
This room was like all the others in general layout- square, cool, very much like the ones in Robotropolis. It was as if it had the same architect.
Now, that was a strange thought. Robotnik, hire an architect?
One thing was quite unique about this room, however. One of the walls was dominated by a really, really big computer... with a command chair in front of it that appeared to have been turned violently into a stool with a rather sharp blade.
Damn, if anyone had been sitting in that at the time, then that would really have hurt.
Then he noticed in the corner, a set of silver double-doors, doors that looked like they would open to a lift of some kind. The mercenary walked over and placed his ear up to it- and there, he heard it, the sounds of an elevator operating.
Well, that settled it. This must be the control room, and the bastard had taken an escape route out.
He would have followed somehow by prying open the doors and climbing up after the target, but by the faintness of the sound he was a good distance away by now. He wouldn't catch him, whoever he was.
So, instead, he decided to make his way back to the Freedom Fighters and report these findings to Amy. And he might be able to take out some more swatbots in the process, too.
With a grunt, Miles walked over to the only other door in the control room and followed a short corridor leading down to another room- a room that was darker than the others, and had a single table in the centre with various cabinets and machinery positioned around the walls.
Miles stopped short. This was all very familiar.
He'd seen this layout for a room physically half a dozen times. That number was multiplied by thousands when his nightmares were taken into account.
This was a Cyborg creation room.
And there was a subject strapped to the table.
Miles dashed forward to the figure, squinting in the darkness to make out who it was and what modifications were there yet, if any. And he recognised the face, even though a thin red visor-like contraption with a black metal casing that ran from temple to temple covered the eyes.
It was the kid from the palace cafeteria. The wolf, what was his name... Tom?
Yeah, Thomas. That was it, the boy who had the mouse girlfriend. The one who he had told not to become like him.
Well, shit.
He looked over the rest of the kid's body, looking for any kind of standard Cyborg feature that may have been added. But there were none. The eye contraption on his face, firmly grafted into the skin and probably bone beneath, appeared to be the only modification. It was a strange device, definitely something that Miles had never seen before. He wondered briefly what it was for, but those thoughts were soon overtaken by the realisation that when he woke from whatever anaesthetics were no doubt flowing in his bloodstream, he was going to freak out.
Badly.
Hell, Miles certainly had when his modifications appeared. Granted he had been younger than Tom, but that wouldn't matter a whole lot.
He stood and looked at the kid silently for a long time, not really knowing what to do until a plethora of voices would be made out coming from a room nearby.
He recognised them as from the Freedom Fighter leaders. So they had been found safe and well- that was one good thing, he supposed.
Reluctantly, he made his way to tell Amy the bad news.
"Well," Miles said sombrely as he walked into a long room, an observation area of some kind it appeared as a window ran along one of the walls looking down into a deep canyon of metal. The far wall of that canyon was made of what looked like prison cells, some occupied, some not.
The Freedom Fighters, apparently victorious stood together in the middle of the room engaged in a heated debate over something or other. His arrival caught the attention of all, and he made a heroic effort to remain emotionless at the sight of Sonic, Sally and Bunnie, alive and well, standing with Amy and the assault troops. "The commander escaped before I could get to him. And he's been busy- one of the kids from the orphanage, Tom I think, has been changed by this little experience and not for the better."
He stopped, for the first time realising that Sonic was looking with barely contained anger... not to mention that the soldiers were all pointing their blasters at him.
"Hey, hey!" he said, raising his hands above his head. "Look- it's me! I'm on your side, remember?"
"You, traitor!" Sonic snarled. Miles blinked, confused.
"Wha? Hey, that wasn't my fault, I didn't mean to bring them to-"
"So you admit it!"
"The hell? No!"
He looked to Sally for help in controlling the hedgehog, but she seemed unable to meet his eyes. She certainly didn't do anything to stop Sonic when he began to stride towards him, but thankfully Amy and Bunnie did, both moving to intercept before he'd be able to strike.
They couldn't be everywhere at once, though.
"Don't deny it, Mechanist!" one of the troopers shouted. "I saw you killin' my buddies!"
What in the name of the Walkers were they talking about?!
"It was yo' fault that we got attacked in the first place, wasn't it!" came another, Page if he wasn't mistaken. It was probably Page who shot first, too.
Thankfully for Miles it was a poor shot (or not, as he would think later) and went wide, giving him just a fraction of a second to dive to the floor before the rest of the troopers opened up. Their blasts passed over him and struck the observation window; blaster proof as it was, it was only designed to take a few shots... and the sheer power of the combined bolts was more than it could handle. It exploded into thousands of small, sharp shards.
Stunned for a moment, ears ringing with the sound of breaking glass and the screams of Amy, Sally and Bunnie to stop firing, he looked around desperately for a way out- and as luck would have it, one was easy enough to spot.
The drop didn't even register until he had leapt over the destroyed window balcony, but when he did immediately his mind went into action on figuring out a way to break his fall. As he neared the ground he attempted to spin his tails to at least slow down, and slow down he did- but he didn't stop.
Contact with the metal floor was quite painful at the speed he was travelling. Not fatal for someone of his resilience, though.
Miles staggered to his feet, running for the door to sector-A as fast as he could manage. He made it just as bolts of energy from the enraged Freedom Fighters danced around his feet, some coming close enough to singe his fur.
Madness. That's what this was, madness. The Freedom Fighters were trying to kill him. Sonic was trying to kill him. And he had no idea why.
Had they been planning this from the start? Was this an alternative to paying him? Or did they still believe he was guilty of killing Ari and had merely used him, knowing that this attack would come?
He didn't want to think about it. That was just as well really, because he wouldn't have been able to make sense of it if he tried. The only thing that was in control now was instinct, and the will to survive.
He reached the corridor marked with 'sector-C' without incident, though it was then that fate apparently decided he'd had enough luck for the day as a spinning blue, black and grey ball shot around the corner and slammed into his back.
Miles cried out in pain, stumbling forwards and landing face down on the cold metal floor.
He was certain he could feel something in his left eye.
The air behind him moved fast and harshly, a sure fire alert that something – a probably dangerous something – was approaching him. He rolled to the side, narrowly avoiding a gauntlet-armoured fist.
He knew who had attacked him. Sonic. Who else could it be? How many more blue figures could run as fast as sound and manage to knock him down so easily?
"I, I didn't mean to betray you," he tried, standing and skipping a few steps away from his idol. "I didn't know."
"Liar! You showed the swatbots where Knothole is! You nearly got Sal killed!"
The hedgehog then threw a punch which Miles didn't even attempt to avoid. The fist hit him squarely between the eyes, letting out a steely clang as it impacted with his metal skill.
"I took you in, I raised you, even when everyone else called you a freak! They all said you were some experiment gone wrong, but I ignored them all because I felt sorry for you! And this is how you repay me?! How you repay us?!"
Oh... Oh, that cut deep. Just about anyone else could have said that to him and he'd have ignored it, but Sonic... He saying such things was not something he could handle all that well.
Even in this kind of situation.
His right eye teared up from both physical and emotional pain for the first time in years. His left would have too, were it able to.
Sonic jumped forward and tackled him to the ground. Miles hissed as the bits of glass caught in his fur were pushed into his skin.
Suddenly, it occurred to him that he really was falling apart, not in the sense as he did the night before but with a blindingly powerful feeling of hopelessness. An awfully familiar feeling.
That... that Cyborg was here.
Miles looked over Sonic's shoulder, blocking out the occasional punches from the hedgehog as best he could. And yes, there it was. Just like he expected.
The Guyde was walking towards them slowly, shadows produced by broken lights flowing over it's organic and metal body like oil. All of it's multiple red eyes were watching him with distain.
Miles just couldn't look away from it.
He couldn't hear what Sonic was saying anymore, nor could really feel his attacks. All he could do was watch the thing that, somehow, was controlling him.
It stopped...
And then did the one thing that by all rights it shouldn't be able to do.
It grinned.
Something snapped within Miles. The sight of this monster that had forced him down a path he didn't want to follow, that had tricked him into hating and betraying the people who had raised him, that had helped turn his life into the web of lies that it was starting to be, leering at him in triumph pushed him over the edge.
He didn't really know what he did next. None of it was intentional. It just... happened, like a dream, or nightmare. He saw red, roared, felt his arms and legs move- Sonic was flung away as though he hadn't been there at all, smashing into a bulkhead further down the gentle curve of the corridor like a rag doll, and before he knew it Miles was on his feet and charging at the Guyde.
A pulse ran down his right arm, signalling to his mind that the three deadly blades housed there were out and ready for action. As sharp and elegant as a set of razor blades they were, cutting through the air swiftly and cleanly with a whistle, cutting up point-first into the underside of the Guyde's furry muzzle, through the bones of the jaw effortlessly, on through the hollow of the mouth, into the back of the upper jaw and through nerve stems behind the eyes, into the brain and, finally, out the top of the skull with a gout of blood.
He stood there for a moment with his fist right up to the Cyborg's chin, blinking stupidly. The glow left it's eyes and it became heavier, legs failing as it gave in to death and yet Miles still did not move, letting it hang there like some gruesome puppet.
The blades slid down and back into his arm. The body fell with a heavy thud.
Miles looked at his fist, covered with the Guyde's blood. His mind went absolutely blank as he stared.
There was something wet on his right cheek.
His left hand game up and touched the fur there. It was wet, but pulling away showed that it was not red. It wasn't blood.
Was... was he crying?
Sonic was watching him from his position on the floor, bruised and dazed but otherwise no worse for wear. Miles took a few uncertain steps towards him.
"I... I didn't mean to betray you... but, but still... I'm sorry for everything," Miles croaked. "Look after Tom, he'll need you now. I know he will..."
And then he ran on down the corridor to the exit without once looking back, surprised, confused, and even scared.
Isn't it funny, how history has a habit of repeating itself?
Note: Confused? Don't be. There is a reason for some of the Freedom Fighters turning on Miles, and all shall be explained in good time. Now, your comments, please! :-)