The second part of this chapter is from Knuckles' Point of view.
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While Knuckles wished he could take a more extreme course of action...
...(Knuckles' thoughts consisting of: Kill him. Kill him. Kill him...)...
He knew that if he obeyed his thoughts, Sonic would want to kill HIM, simply because he has trust in Miles. A little too much trust. So, Knuckles simply sent Prower home with nothing but the most severe language he could think of.
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(Knuckles' POV)
I had more or less gotten over the whole thing, since they could just give Sonic a new, better, 6-Million-Dollar-Man style arm. So, feeling that all was relatively peaceful, I went back to Angel Island, and continued my duty of gem guarding. I was starting to feel better when--wouldn't you know it--that filthy little beast showed up again. He seemed... different, somehow. He was really just standing there, looking at me, swishing those two tails of his back and forth. Like a dog. I blinked--that was all--and when I opened my eyes, he was standing right in front of me. He said "Hello, Knuckles, nice night, eh?" in that shrill little voice of his. I did the first thing that came to mind. I punched him as hard as I could in the face. He didn't even budge. "My, what a rude welcome. Not even a kind word." Those words still haunt my dreams. At this point, I did what any sane individual would do. I ran. As fast as I could. I didn't stop. I blinked again, and he was right in front of me again. He grabbed my arm tightly. I hit him again, and, again, nothing. He smiled, an evil, wretched little grin. I asked him, "Why?" A question that I had asked him many times before. His answer? "Because its fun." Fun? FUN! I was shocked. I asked him what he planned to do with me. I at least wanted to know how I would die. But, he didn't kill me. He turned me around, and used his hand to puncture my skin. I felt him rub his fingers on the open wound. He walked, slowly, in front of me, still holding my arm, strolled directly in front of my face, and made me watch as he slowly licked his putrid fingers clean. Then he let go of me, and said, "You should get out more. Its good for you." He started to walk off, then he turned, looked at me, smiled as though nothing had happened, and said, "And it makes the blood much less bitter." Then he turned and left. It was only after I was sure nobody was watching me... I cried. I had never cried before, not even as a baby. But this... was too much. I was scared. No, I've been scared before, and this was worse. Far worse. In just three days, Miles "Tails" Prower had gone from being the nicest person I've known to being the source of my night terrors.
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Shadow laughed behind his office desk as he watched on his viewscreen what he had convinced Amy to do. He couldn't believe that Knuckles, the most observant entity on the planet, couldn't tell the difference between a few (rather poorly done) cosmetic alterations, and the real Tails. 'He must have been tired.' Thought Shadow, still chuckling at the sheer unlikeliness of it all. Then he turned his mind back to more important matters. By which I mean, taking a Tails action figure, and a Knuckles action figure out of his desk and reenacting the scene with high pitched voices and wacky sound effects.
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Tails was on his way back to the house, when he got that weird, nagging, impending-doom feeling. He just ignored it and kept walking. As soon as he reached the doorstep, he was grabbed from behind, and pulled into a nearby bush. The attacker's hand was covering Tails' mouth, and the other had a knife in it. Tails tried to get out of the offender's grasp, but to no avail. Having no real other choice--Tails bit the offenders' hand. The mystery assailant squealed in pain, dropping the knife. Tails ran inside the house and locked the door. Then, he just sort of stood there for a while, thinking of what to do. He finally decided to look outside to see if the attacker was still there. He peered out the door. The knife landed in the wall about six centimeters away from his face. Tails calmly took the knife, closed the door, locked it, walked into the bathroom, flushed the knife down the toilet, went up to his room, walked inside his closet, and screamed as loudly as he could. Then, he went to sleep. It was late. Well, late for him. It was early for anyone else.
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To be continued.
Sorry that its shorter than normal.