The landslide could be seen for miles.
It was fortunate, then, that no one was around to bear witness to it, or to what had caused the natural disaster. Deep within the craggy peaks of the western half of the Ice Cap Mountains, the area called by some: Sky Sanctuary, two solitary titans continued their duel.
Mammoth Mogul moved swiftly, as his footing became increasingly precarious. He knew why Miles had led him here, in a running battle that had lasted almost an hour. It was an attempt by the young kitsune to nullify the advantages of Mogul's great size, and slow him down. Yes, Mogul had known this, but still continued his pursuit, chasing his foe through the increasingly wet and slippery terrain.
The area would hinder him, but only marginally.
And, as the thunderclouds continued their deluge, he felt growing confidence. He had yet to demonstrate the true power at his command. Instead, he struck with a grunt, and watched as Miles dodged his attack with typical nimbleness, and an acrobatic aplomb that came from being able to vary one's balance using arms, legs, and twin tails. Miles attempted a meager counterattack, generating a trio of explosive rings, and tossing them into the air as he moved. Mogul swatted them with no small amount of flourish, the mighty shaft of the Spear of Rhadamanthus immune to such a paltry attack.
Mogul adjusted his footing, as the ground beneath him gave way, sliding out of place. He jumped, a giant seeming to float in midair, before alighting gracefully on flatter, firmer ground. He was still largely unharmed, especially compared to his opponent, but Miles was far from being beaten. Mogul had to admire his tenacity and perseverance.
Both warriors paused, to catch their breath.
Mogul held his Spear in one hand, and was breathing easily but he could sense that the weariness of his mighty body was beginning to become… uncomfortable. Looking at Miles, he knew for certain that the boy was trying to tire him out, and not just by jumping around. Mogul's body, being larger, was also naturally less efficient. That was simple physics. And with this broken ground, while his balance was far from in question, he kept him moving more than he'd liked.
"So: You wish to wear me down?" Mogul asked, his voice a deep boom that shook the world. "Do not imagine that I will oblige you any further!"
Hundreds of feet away, Miles hear him loud and clear, but didn't reply.
"I deem you… worthy…" Mogul lifted the Spear above his head. It pulsed with energy at Mogul's command, and in the sky heavy gray clouds murmured and built together, into an ever more potent and concentrated thunderhead. Suddenly, for miles around, thunder split the sky asunder in a deafening roar, and a dozen lightning strikes rippled from the air, chaining and coalescing together at the tip of the Spear of Rhadamanthus.
With his free hand, Mogul stretched out his palm. "And now you shall bear witness to the Jenain al Maaqah, and the power of the Hanging Heavens!"
Miles could feel the power build all around him, and watched for an attack from Mogul or the sky. It never came. Then, he felt the briefest tingle around his feet, and up his spine, and he realized a movement too late where the strike was to come from. It erupted from the ground like a striking snake out of the cover of leaves, an arching and twisting pure white line of electricity. The power of it threw Miles off his feet, and he twisted in midair to orient himself.
The living lightning bolt bent in the air, turned, and sunk back into the ground.
Miles' eyes moved frantically, as he tried to predict where it would come from next. He searched, all his senses pushed to the maximum and the trill scream of adrenalin behind his ears. Still, for all that, there was no warning when it again erupted from the ground in a spray of supersonic debris that bit into his hardened skin like cannon shells. He flew upwards, his tails propelling him, but the lightning returned, and chased him ever higher, up towards the clouds.
"You can not escape it like that, Miles," Mogul said, though only in a bass whisper, his musing meant only to be heard by himself. "It will follow you in the air or on the ground. The sea is too far away, so what other option will you have? What other option but to attack, and to come at me? And when you do, Miles…"
He leveled the Spear, and held it on both hands.
"When you do… I shall destroy you, mind, body, and soul."
Mogul squinted upwards and saw Miles racing down towards him. He smiled, and began to spin the Spear in his hands, ready for any sort of desperation move. The more it was in motion, the more it built momentum, the faster he could strike and the surer he was of hitting an evasive target. Racing downwards, his body angled and streamlined, his tails a spinning gold blur behind him, Miles rocketed towards Mogul.
And then, with a flash disappeared.
Mogul blinked, and then haughtily sneered. "Of course. Chaos Control."
He held the Spear forward, and the lightning bolt struck and was absorbed without so much as a spray of sparks. One moment it was there, and then it was gone. Mogul looked around, not so much with his eyes, but with the extrasensory powers of one who had lived so long with Chaos Powers, he remembered no other existence. A second later, he, too, disappeared.
A hundred miles to the west, in the middle of the stretch of ocean between Angel Island and the Mobian shore, Mogul reappeared. His massive trunk like legs descended, and his feet hit the water, not with a splash, but a ripple. It was as if a fluttering leaf had hit the water, rather than a twenty-ton behemoth. Opposite him, Miles also stood on the water surface, his breathing ragged. In the distance, the shore of the Mobian main continent appeared as a sliver on the horizon, and behind them loitered a trackless expanse of ocean, the floating hulk of Angel Island unnatural in its position frozen mid-fall.
"Now that I have found you once… you can never escape me." Mogul scoffed, and his arms became a blur as he struck. The Spear of Rhadamanthus hit only water, as Miles shot off to the side, a trail of ocean spray in his wake. A tidal wave, large enough to capsize a small boat, rolled away from the Spearhead, but Mogul didn't miss a beat in trailing it through the water, as he skimmed along the surface like a skater.
Gaining speed, the two skated in nearly parallel paths, zigzagging at impossible angles, the waves from Mogul's rapid-fire blows and slashes churning the ocean water into an unstable tide pool. Again, Miles fired at Mogul with a combination of Ring Bombs and rounds from his 20mm custom. Mogul waded through the attacks disdainfully, before he noticed something unusual in the water. It looked almost like debris.
Realization came a moment too late, as the water exploded.
'Mines!' Mogul asked himself, as two more plumes of water rose up all around him. 'Of course!' While he had been firing with the other weapons at his disposal, Miles had generated ocean-going explosives from the soles of his feet. Just because he seemed to have boots on, didn't mean that he actually did! They were just extensions of his fake body! It was the first trap Mogul had fallen into, and he felt a creeping instant of panic.
Not so much because he feared for his life, but because he just wasn't supposed to be caught off guard. Not him! Not Mammoth Mogul! Not in this body! He made a broad sweep with his weapon, the flat side facing the air where it produced a series of sonic booms. His arms strained from the effort, but he wasn't about to get caught like that again.
His senses began to return to full effectiveness from the sudden shock, and his footing was halfway restored as well, when he noticed that he had lost track of Miles. Had the boy taken the opportunity to Chaos Control again? If so, it would be difficult to track him down, though far from impossible. Instead, Mogul's sensitive ears picked up a tiny splash from around his feet, and he looked down to see a sand colored streak heading upwards.
'What!' Mogul barely had time to think, before Miles fired upwards. Mogul tried to turn his head, but it was too little too late, as explosive incendiary rounds hit all over his face. His eyes became consumed by brightness, and then his sight was plunged into darkness. His upper lip curled in a silent sneer, as Miles' attack mauled his face.
'You can read my body, but not my thoughts, Mogul!' The kitsune thought, but didn't have time to shout. Still shooting upwards out of the water, Miles felt a vicious moment of satisfaction. 'I'll use your body as a shield, and all your vaunted mastery will be for naught!'
Then, as he approached Mogul's former face, the ancient tyrant's head suddenly pivoted, and a multi-ton tusk slammed into Miles' side. He heard a rib crack violently, and spat blood, as it scraped up the inside of one of his lungs. The 'package' in Miles other hand slipped free, flying up into the air, and he smashed into the other tusk as well, before tumbling off to the side like a rag doll.
"You merely blind me…" Mogul started to say, and then something broke apart in front of him. Still, for all his senses, he couldn't determine what it was. There was a spray of something, sticky and thick, and then only white hot noise and pain.
Miles, half his body broken, smiled as he saw the bomb go off in Mogul's face, the aerosol component igniting the liquid napalm and covering half of his opponent's massive body. It was a special mixture, and even as Mogul fell backwards with an enraged howl, Miles knew the water wouldn't put it out. It would burn and burn, until Mogul was nothing more than bone and ash. Feeling the energies of the enemy waver, if only for a moment, Miles concentrated and projected his most powerful and Final Technique: his Chaos Judgment. A split second later, he hit the water with a painful crash. It felt like a wall of concrete had risen up and met him at a hundred miles per hour, and he mercifully blacked out.
Two football fields away, Mogul, too, hit the water in a notably more colossal show of force, his entire body aflame. The great Spear of Rhadamathus slipped from his massive fingers to hang in the air for a moment longer, and then it, also disappeared under the dark and churning waves.
In minutes it was as if they had never been there.
The giant creature, a perverse amalgam of who knew how many vile chao, hit the wall with a splatter of orange and blue flesh, and a shower of mottled black and red blood. What was left of the hideous face grimaced in a mask of hatred and insanity, tiny razor teeth and heavy set jaw still working as if chewing a piece of meat. With a flash, nearby, a wave of smaller chao simmered and burned.
Lara-Su and Nail stood, back to back, amid the carnage.
Nail's hands were smoking, as green wisps trailed from his body, and burn marks and blood adorned his arms and chest. Lara-Su, meanwhile, was clutching her left arm, which looked like it sported a bloody bite mark on the bicep. Her eyes were smoking red, and the ruby gemstone in her chest glowed protectively. Then, suddenly, she clutched at it in pain.
"Lara!" Nail saw her, out of the corner of his eye, and he unleashed another energy blast, far from his strongest, into a leaping chao the size and temperament of a wolverine. Snarling and baying, it exploded, and the energy ball hit one other mid sized chao-beast, tearing it in half. Nail shook of the weariness in his body, and tried to concentrate.
Lara winced again, her chest in obvious pain. "Something's wrong! We have to hurry! Miles is hurt… really hurt!"
"How is that even possible…?" Nail started to ask.
"It just is! I can feel it!" Lara eyes flared red, and a look of determination dominated her features. All around them, to the front and the back, the endless tide of Chao began to reform. "Damn them! We aren't getting anywhere!"
Nail nodded, grimly. "Suggestions?"
"We need to combine our abilities!" Lara took a step to the side, turned and stepped in front of Nail. He was surprised, but quickly got an inkling of her plan. Without another word, Lara stretched out her arms, and he did the same, until their palms were side to side.
"I hope this works…" Nail whispered.
"If it doesn't… you'll be the first to know." Lara spared him a confident grin, and then faced forward. "Now!"
The Chao horde surged forward.
Nail yelled and summoned his waning strength into his hands, where he released it as a deadly burst of chaos energy. But rather than simply fly out in one direction, Lara reached out with her own power, and twisted the path of the energy projectile. Combining her telekinetic shield with Nail's energy projection, she quickly directed and created a twisting helix of energy blasts around them. Leaping, snapping, enraged Chao splattered harmlessly against it.
With a mad growl, one of the Master Chao, a vicious multiped with two serrated arms and four elephantine legs, reached out to bash its way through. Both arms disappeared in a spray of gore and emerald energy. Then, without any hint of warning, the blazing sphere shot forward, plowing through the chao monster and vaporizing it. Lara and Nail, cocooned within the protective shield, flew past a waiting legion of the creatures that lined the walls, and crawled over every available inch of space.
Finally nearing the Lift down to the deepest depths of Haven, they wavered, as Nail felt his energy ebb to an all time low. Just a few feet from it, the two separated, and Lara carefully began the process of condensing and coalescing Nail's power into one energy ball, held together only by her own telekinetic chaos powers. In their wake, a rumbling tide of horrors turned a corner, just as Lara pitched the energy ball into their midst. For an instant, it vanished into the throng, and then a column of chaos-enhanced fire filled the halls of Haven.
Lara and Nail were, by then, already free falling down the final elevator shaft.
Above them, the flood of fire and destruction, having exhausted the easy paths available to it, turned down the shaft for another place to expand. Lara and Nail raced downwards against it, and as one, the two hit the lowest level, and spring boarded with their legs, tumbling and rolling on their sides as the fires filled the elevator shaft as well, flickering and bellowing and threatening to engulf them where they lay.
Then, mercifully, it retreated and died down.
The two echidna looked each other in the eye.
"Well that was fun," Lara said, and smoothed back her dreadlock spines.
"The insane energy log-ride over a pit of fire. Always a popular ride with the kids." Nail slowly sat up, leaning his back against one of the clean white washed walls. His body sore and hurting, he weakly looked to his left and right, and when he saw no chao, let out a relieved sigh and allowed himself to close his eyes.
"Passing out…?" Lara half asked, have stated. She rolled onto her back, deep breaths making her chest rise and fall rhythmically. "Sounds like a nice plan…"
"Except we can't…" Nail argued, but not with a lot of conviction. Then, as if waking up from a dream, he slapped the side of his face, and worked his way back to his feet.
"Except we can't," he repeated. "Lara! Remember why we're… you're here."
Lara's eyes snapped open. With a sigh, she flipped onto her feet. She clutched at her chest again, and wondered. For a moment there had been a spike of pain, and a feeling of … emptiness. But her power had remained constant, despite it. She just wished she knew what it all meant.
"I remember…" she assured Nail, and the two started down the empty halls.
"Who are you?"
Knuckles existed, but had no form.
"I don't understand." It was true: he didn't.
The voice seemed amused, but not angry or impatient. "How do you define yourself?"
"I am… Knuckles…" Knuckles said, and he felt his physical body form in the void.
"Go on. What else?" The voice asked, calmly.
"I am the Guardian…" A white crest appeared on Knuckles' chest, just below his collar. His hands grew prominent spikes, his trademark knuckles, though everyone in his line had them. His physical form became more solid.
"I am the Guardian of the Master Emerald, and Angel Island!" Knuckles announced, and the void became a world. He found himself high above the floating island, looking down on it like a cloud. Then, like a ripple on a pond, trees and forests and sand dunes and a thousand other details came into being all over it, giving it an unmarred and pristine appearance. He felt himself descend, and an instant later he stood amid a peaceful glen at the edge of the Mushroom Forest.
It was nice, but there was more.
"I am the Guradian of Echidnapolis, and my people." A city sprouted out of the ground, replete with shops, stores, homes, high-rises, cars, and a bustling population.
"I protect those I care for!" Knuckles saw his mother appear next to him, holding her baby son. Next came Julie-Su, with a beatific smile on her face, looking as content and happy as he had ever known her. One after another, all his friends and (semi-estranged) family appeared: Sally, Sonic, Tails, Vector, Mighty, Espio, Charmy, Amy, Wynmacher, his father (looking quite normal), Athair, Sabre, the rest of the Guardians.
"Show me everything you believe in…" The voice coaxed, with a slightly more malicious tone. Knuckles seemed to take no notice, but he continued nonetheless. He didn't even bother speaking the words, instead just thinking them. He thought of his belief in personal responsibility, in the virtues of steadfast dedication, loyalty, and honor. He recounted his belief in personal redemption, how he believed that, deep down, even his enemies like Dimitri, or Enerjak, could be turned down a right-thinking path.
"This is who I am!" Knuckles announced, proudly. "This is me!"
"You have conviction and strength of character." The voice spoke, more loudly, and with a bit more presence. Knuckles tried to find the source of it in his dream world and failed. It seemed to be coming from inside him, like a twisted version of his conscience. Or maybe it was just that?
"This is why I have chosen to show you something. You are special to me, and similar in many ways to my little brother," the voice explained, with an amused chuckle. "The others I have contacted… save one, are not like you. They were not special. One was a simple minded fool, another a brute, another a spurned and inflexible soul, and another a one-dimensional stooge. With you, I hope to be more delicate and subtle in my demonstration of Truth."
"Truth?" Knuckles asked. "What do you mean truth? Who are you?"
"I am your new benefactor. You will know more of me in good time," the voice spoke with a friendly tone, though still more than slightly condescending. It was almost like an upperclassman addressing a younger student he felt fondness for. Knuckles had had many mentors over the years, but he sensed a great difference here.
"You see… these friends and beliefs you have?" The voice continued. "There is an aspect to them that you are not fully aware of. Allow me to… illuminate it."
His friends and family held up their hands. Knuckles watched them; curious, and flinched when he suddenly found his wrists and ankles shackled. Before he could mouth a word of protest, he saw chains materialize, between his shackles and the open hands of those surrounding him. He was held rather loosely, and he also saw the chains sink into the ground, and stretch out for miles down wide streets.
"What?" Knuckles pulled back his arms, and the loose chains rattled. "What is this?"
"For every connection you make with another, you are bound to them. They are the foundation of your existence. However, what you trade for that foundation is freedom. Freedom of action, and thus of choice. You become a living tool of those with fewer constraints. You are afforded a tiny space in which to run and live, and no more."
Knuckles shifted his feet, and felt one of the chains tug tighter. He followed it to Julie-Su. She was drawing him closer, and he could feel other chains getting tighter as well in response. It became harder to move.
"All creatures desire boundaries in which to live. It brings comfort and certainty. To live in a world without boundaries beings uncertainty and discomfort, and who wants that? Let us see which boundaries you prefer."
The circle began to move apart, pulling at him. The chains that went off into the distance, connected Knuckles somehow knew, to the Master Emerald, to the Island itself, even to Mobius, all began to separate. Standing in the middle, the epicenter, Knuckles could feel himself being pulled apart. He began to hear their voices, louder and louder, making demands of him.
"Protect me! Forsake all others!" The Master Emerald commanded.
"There is so much more to life than being a Guardian!" His mother yelled, an excited look on her face, as if she was oblivious to his discomfort. "Come with me, and I'll show you!"
"I love you, Knuckles! Forget your troubles and let me be your happiness!" Julie-Su gave another sharp tug.
"You are destined to join us!" Spectre yelled, his voice a low growl. "To become us!"
"Trust me, son! Trust your father like you used to!" Locke wrapped his arms around a length of chain and pulled all the harder.
"There is more than this island at stake!" Sally had a good grip, and apparently the strength to match. He stumbled in her direction. "Mobius is your home! Come with me, and we can save her! We can even be together again, if you want!"
"This island cries bitter tears at the damage these squatters do!" The island itself wailed. "They burn and cut and pillage and plow!"
"Think of the future!" The city itself rumbled. "Have you thought about Health Insurance? A new apartment? Maybe a car?"
"Help us!" Thousands of echidna yelled at once, from all around: the people of the city and the island. "We can't help ourselves! We need you, Guardian!"
"You don't know how to have a good time, Red!" Sonic laughed, and gave a mighty yank. Knuckles' arms and muscles strained, as he became pulled taunt in every direction, his feet leaving the ground.
"Where were you when I needed you?" Tails sneered, and yanked on his chain. "You stood by while I died! Just like you stood by while Station Square fell! You owe me a debt, like you do the ghosts of all those who died for your failures or inaction!"
"No… stop…" Knuckles' prodigious strength was nothing here, and what resistance he mustered was like pushing against a wave of water. He screamed, long and loud, as his body began to tear. Still, everyone pulled and pulled and pulled, chanting and demanding and yelling their grievances and aspirations and promises.
"Stop… please stop…" Knuckles howled in pain, blood streaming down his ankles and wrists, the bones in his hands breaking. "Please… Stop… STOP! STOP!"
The voice returned, as calm and confident as before. "What freedom do you want? What is important to you, and what will you throw away?"
Knuckles gasped, and looked around. He shook his head.
"I have seen a mind torn into multiple personalities before… It is not pretty, nor in your continued best interests." The voice mused out loud. "Choose, Knuckles. Choose."
He shook his head again.
"Sever the ties that bind you, Knuckles. Free yourself. Thrown down your chains: your obligations and fears and insecurities and anachronistic morality. Do not be afraid… you have my permission. I will give you the power to make new dreams into reality. Beautiful dreams. But first, you must be prepared to use them. Throw everything away, Knuckles. Break your chains."
Knuckles grunted, as his right thumb broke.
"It feels wonderful, I promise you. You will not forget those you care for. All you will do… is realize that freedom is what we take, not what we are given. Free yourself, or suffer the consequences…"
A hand appeared in midair, holding a thick heavy black chain.
"Break your chains." The voice commanded, booming in Knuckles' mind. "Break Them All!"
Finally, rearing back his head, Knuckles roared. One after another, the links of chain splintered, raining metal shrapnel in every direction. He pulled his arms up to his chest, and yet more sapped and broke, flailing through the air like giant snakes. Even the great black chain shattered like glass.
"While slaves can be amusing and useful, a True God wishes for Equals who share His Vision." The voice chortled softly in approval. "And now, perhaps, you will show the world your new freedom…?"
Knuckles body still shook from exertion.
He offered no immediate reply.
Then.
"Perhaps…" He slumped forward, with a crooked smile. "Perhaps I will."
Knuckles looked up, his mind clear and alert.
He saw Hunter jump off the ground, followed by Thunderhawk and Sojourner, wielding a length of strange metal that looked like it had been torn from a machine. Sojourner slashed with a chaos empowered hand, but Hunter deftly deflected the blow with the metal stick, and slammed it down into the Guardian's shoulder. At the same time, he twisted his upper body to avoid another attack at the hands of Thunderhawk.
Hunter landed on his feet, leaned back and kicked up, snapping off a kick into Thunderhawk's face, and then another into his groin. The echidna grunted and fell back, as Sojourner took his place, a flaming sheath of green energy around his right arm. He clashed with Hunter's makeshift weapon, in a flurry of blue sparks and green light. Then Thunderhawk moved forward with a snarl, a similar enhancement on both of his arms.
Hunter suck in a quick blow to Sojourner's left temple, and the he kneed as he jumped. As the echidna fell backwards, Hunter planted his other foot on the Guardian's face, and jumped upwards, twirling in midair while batting away a trio of energy blasts from Thunderhawk. He landed gracefully and back flipped, as a black tentacle slammed into the ground, and the deformed parody that was Locke moved into the fray.
Hunter had not been idly boasting when he spoke of his prowess.
Locke had four extra appendages at his disposal, besides what was left of his normal arms, hands and legs. Giant black tendrils snapped and struck, and Hunter weaved between them or knocked them aside. When he was nearly backed up into a wall, he jumped back, and jumped off, gaining enough height to flip over Locke's head. On the way, he hit the echidna across the face with a wet thwack, sending Locke spinning. When he landed, he kicked back, hitting the abomination onto his chest.
Any further counter attack was interrupted by the arrival of Thunderhawk, swinging his arm around like a blade. Hunter stepped expertly into the strike and out of the strike zone, grabbed the mad echidna by the throat and the arm, and head butted him savagely, caving in his nose. Hunter the pulled Thunderhawk back, and repeated the treatment, two move times before using the limp body as a shield against Sojourner, who struck from above, hurling bolts of green chaos energy.
Hunter released Thunderhawk's smoking body, snapping his neck at the same time, and back flipped, slipping away.
Locke and Sojourner gave him no respite, and chased after him without hesitation. Hunter jumped, grabbed hold of a piece of scaffolding, and made a gymnastic leap higher onto another piece of the interconnected latticework, keeping his balance on a tube of metal only two or three inches in diameter. Sojourner flew up, using his chaos powers to propel him, and landed opposite the human.
Hunter smirked, and gestured him forward.
Below them, Locke's tentacles helped lift him off the ground and up the structure. Hunter no doubt sensed the approach of the more freakish of the pair, and dueled with Sojourner only long enough to push him back. He then made another jump, onto one of the automated construction robots that tended to the massive skeleton that sat atop the Master Emerald. Sojourner pounced, unafraid; his right arm a bonfire of green.
Hunter also leapt, with a feral yell.
The human landed, a little unsteadily, on another exposed support beam. Sojourner wobbled in midair, a long shaft of metal imbedded in his mouth and out the back of his skull, stained red and blue and yellow. He tumbled out of control, crashed into another of the automated drones, and hit the ground with a sound like wet leaves.
Hunter had no time to enjoy his victory, as he moved desperately to avoid Locke's attacks. It was like fighting a hydra, as Locke kept Hunter at a distance, snapping savagely. A hard blow connected, lacerating and creating a terrible rip on the human's abdomen. Hunter grimaced, and avoided two more strikes, before another pegged him on the leg, and then a black tentacle wrapped around his neck.
"I have you…" Locke spoke through pearl white teeth, jaw clenched closed. He slammed Hunter back against a thick support beam, holding him by the throat like the large human weighed nothing more than a child. Hunter's body started to go limp, when his hand fell to his side, brushed past his upper thigh, and reached behind him. When it came up, there was a knife held in fingers with white knuckles.
It flashed through the air, and the tentacle holding Hunter aloft became two and a half feet shorter. Locke snarled, and rather than escape, Hunter instantly shifted into an attack, lunging and burying the knife into Locke's belly, one hand on the hilt, the other pressed against it for leverage. Feet churning, he pushed the two of them off the support they had balanced on, through the air, and onto the floor. Hunter only stopped pushing forward, Locke still impaled, when the latter's back slammed hard into a stone pillar.
With a hoarse cry, Hunter twisted the weapon and pulled it upwards, deeper into Locke's body until his entire forearm disappeared into the echidna ex-Guardian. Locke's vile tentacles whipped around, and two hit Hunter on the back, parting skin and flesh from muscle and bone. The human fell forward, and then rolled to the side, half his back red and bleeding. Still on his feet, Locke shuffled forward, disemboweled.
Hunter crawled away, his left arm useless and broken at the shoulder. He was trailing blood, on the verge of exhaustion and death, but still he crawled slowly, painfully, towards a fallen piece of debris. What value it would have as a weapon was debatable, but Hunter reached for it nonetheless, driven by instinct and impulse.
A steel-soled foot stepped on the broken metal with a clang.
Knuckles reached down, and picked Hunter up by the scruff of his shirt. The human blinked, and stared into cold mauve eyes. There was recognition there, but no real emotion. No: there was something. Some flicker of fire deep down. Knuckled nodded.
And then his eyes shimmered, like the surface of a lake at midnight.
Hunter flew through the air, his body flaccid and plastic. He seemed to arch slowly, purposefully, before landing in the right hand of the monstrous skeleton. From the broken ceiling of the Emerald Chamber, more and more chao flowed, formless and faceless. The great golden eye in the skull moved, dilated, and looked down at its prize. Skeletal fingers shook, and slowly closed like a cage around Hunter's broken body.
Flesh flowed down the arm, growing into sinew and muscle. A jaw lined with hand-sized teeth opened, and there was a stentorian rumble like the sound of a distant earthquake. Bits of stone fell from the high domed ceiling, and several pillars became loosened and collapsed to the ground.
"So much for the Brotherhood of Guardians…" Knuckles lowered his arm, his voice mild and low-key. "Well. I suppose they weren't necessary anymore, were they? I will create a New Brotherhood in their place. A new Covenant."
Knuckles sighed softly, and the beginnings of a smile crossed his features.
Then, two individuals interrupted his peaceful new world and came to his attention. He turned his head look at them out of the corner of his eye, and saw them to be his misbegotten clone, and some new girl. One with the Guardian crest. Another genetically engineered mistake, was it? He sorted in ill humor, his choler rising.
The three stood there, in silence, none knowing just what to say.
"What the hell is going on here?" Nail finally asked, after a quick glance to his companion, though the question had not been addressed to her. Knuckles didn't reply, but slowly walked between them and the Master Emerald. That action did not go unnoticed, nor was it met with anything approaching obvious approval.
"… Knuckles…" The girl spoke, though she seemed to have some difficulty, her voice wavering. "Knuckles! Will you help us save the Emerald? Will you help us…"
"Help you save the Emerald?" Knuckled cut her short and barked out a derisive laugh. "I came here with that very same idea. Save the Emerald. Preserve the Emerald. Live and die at the beck and call of the Emerald. Spend five lifetimes polishing it to a nice brilliant sheen. That… was… the plan."
He cracked his knuckles.
"But now…" he continued, with a tiny little smile. "I don't think I'll miss it. Its owner has returned, you see, and frankly: I'll be happy to have him take it back. You try spending seven days straight searching for broken shards of it, and you'll feel the same way."
"Then step aside and let us take care of it," Nail suggested, though his posture suggested that he knew a fight was inevitable.
"Ah. Sorry. I could, but I'd rather have it in His Hands." Knuckles pointed behind him at the skeleton, now almost a third covered in living flesh. "Than yours. Still, you're welcome to come with me on the way out once everything is taken care of here."
"What… what happened to you? Why…?" Lara felt a wound in her heart, and knew she had failed. She had traveled through time, and been too late. Still, she felt compelled to know what had happened. There could still be a way to reverse it – to save her father and return him to normal.
"You really want to know what happened to me?" Knuckles cocked his head to the side in apparent good cheer. "I… realized… my own liberation. For only a moment, I had the luxury of casting aside all my engrained aspirations, indoctrinations and limitations. During that instant of freedom, I was able to recreate all my goals and desires, with the memory of the past, but none of the chains. Do you understand? I have been shown a glimmer of true freedom. Can you even imagine what that means?"
"A clean slate…" Knuckles took a deep cleansing breath. "Or maybe: a reorganized one."
"We don't have time for this…" Nail warned.
Lara glared at her companion, and then turned back to her father with pleading eyes. "Come with us, please. Come with me. I don't fully understand all that has happened to you, I admit that. But things can go back to the way they were. We can help you!"
Knuckles snorted loudly at that suggestion. "Not interested. I don't know you… and I don't know how you know me. I don't even know why you're making such a fuss about this. Who are you, anyway?"
"I'm… I'm…" Lara hesitated to tell him. 'I'm your daughter from the future! I came back to stop you from becoming a tyrant who estranged himself from his entire family. Oh, and one of your friends put an Emerald in my chest, and I think I'm tied to him for the rest of my life. I never really knew you very well, but I've heard a lot, and I'd like to know you better and make you into the sort of father I never had…'
"I'm…" Lara-Su gulped. "I'm someone who…. who just wants to help you. To see you happy, and with the ones you love."
Knuckles quirked an eyebrow at that. "And the crest on your chest? The one only Guardians should have?"
"I… can't say…" Lara admitted, and looked down at her feet. "I'm sorry."
Behind Knuckles, a giant four-chambered heart formed between folds of flesh, and began to beat. Nail glowered at this, and stepped forward. He could feel the power of the Master Emerald, twisted and vile. It sickened him to his stomach to see such a massive … festering boil of chaos energy, perverted in this fashion. He could practically feel Athair close by, still trapped in the Emerald, and still fighting against the all-consuming corruption. And losing.
"Get out of my way," Nail said, coolly. "I won't warn you twice."
Knuckles appeared completely unimpressed.
"You'll have to move me from this spot," the former Guardian of Angel Island replied, and crossed his arms. "If you dare."
Nail crossed his arms, his power gathering and building into a blinding halo of light. Swirling energies built together at his command, and shooting both hands forward, were unleashed. Knuckles took a step forward, and then broke into a sprint, heading right towards the column of energy, his right hand in front of him. White energy bubbled up to the surface, and on contact with Nails' green, cut clean through it. Knuckles ran clear through the energy blast, completely unfazed, swept his hand up, and seized his clone by the throat.
"You moved me… But…" Knuckles smirk grew, and it became cruel. "You'll wish you hadn't."
And then Nail saw and felt only white blinding light.
-----
"This way! Over here! I saw 'im!"
A bright light tracked across the forest, illuminating drooping trees and wet shrubs in the midnight gloom. Against the starry night, black painted shapes hovered, and below them, a village burned. Even in the forest, the smell of roasting flesh was pervasive. Flashlights shone back and forth, searching, while a half dozen bodies moved loudly through the bushes in military fatigues.
"You sure about this? I don't see a damn thing!"
"I saw 'im! Fast little bugger, but not fast enough!"
In a tree, crouched low, Mogul could feel Miles' body tremble in fear and anger. He experienced it as if the memory was his own, and as if he was the one who had hidden alone, all those years ago, and wondered whether to pray for life or revenge. He felt Miles' emotions flare, as he remembered how he had fled when the attack began, his natural impulse to find cover from the invasion that came from above and out at sea.
At the time, he had no idea who his assailants were.
He was still a child.
After wandering for almost a year on his own, he had been caught trying to steal food from a village. After a beating at the hands of some of the local boys, an elderly couple of foxes had taken in the near feral kitsune. Despite having a nearly eidetic memory, Miles still couldn't remember their names. They had fed him, and taught him, and tried to raise him, despite the many fights he got into and the trouble he caused them. It was they who told him his name: Miles Prower.
They were dead now.
He had looked over his shoulder as they ran, and saw an explosion where their small house had once been. The blast and the concussion threw all three to the ground. Only Miles had gotten back up. Seeing that they weren't breathing, he ran into the forest from which he had first came, and didn't look back. Or, at least he hadn't wanted to. Something, some strange feeling, had compelled him to see what was going on, and who was responsible.
It was then that he saw them rounding up the remaining villagers at gunpoint. They worked with precision and a sort of practiced ease that came from the military, or mercenary, life. They were avian breed mobians, one and all. Three airships floated overhead, and in the distance, a single ship floated offshore. He had watched them for some time, and had felt safe at night about not being seen. Then, amazingly, one of the soldiers had seen him. At the time, he hadn't understood how.
"There! Up there!"
"Huh? Where?"
"There! There!" One of the soldiers gestured aggressively in Miles' direction. Hissing in fear and hatred, Miles tried to bolt for it. He was nimble - always was, always had been – and jumped from branch to branch. They were wet, though, and his bare handed grip on one of the branches slipped. With a yelp, he tumbled and fell, but cushioned his impact with the ground using his twin tails.
Flashlights and voices filled the air.
Standing, Miles tried to run, but his ankle was sprained, and forced him into a painful limp. He kept going, despite the agony that was every step. In the end, it was all for nothing. They caught up with him, and paid him back for leading them on a chase through tick-infested woods.
"Little brat!" Another steel toes boot collided with Miles' side, and he curled more tightly into a little ball, trying to squeeze the pain out of his body. His tenacity earned him another kick.
"Check it out! This freak's got two tails!"
"Two tails?" Another boot stomped down on one of Miles' tails, and he screamed and thrashed. A boot hit the side of his face, sending a jet of blood into the boy's mouth from his ruined cheek He stared upwards limply, and saw another one of the avians approach, this one with something over his eyes. Some sort of… mechanical glasses. He was the one who had spotted Miles when the others had not. Did the glasses somehow grant him enhanced vision, even at night?
"Well I'll be damned…" The leader of this group of soldiers stared down at Miles, and cocked his head. "An honest to Source two tailed fox. And a little one at that. Isn't that a strange sight?"
He rubbed his chin, and kneeled down to look at Miles more closely. With his right hand, the leader opened his eyes wide and checked the pupils, and then felt the arms and legs. After a few more seconds of appraisal, he stood back up and addressed his men.
"Take him along." He then clarified. "Alive, gentlemen. A little more meat on his bones, and he'll work well in the slave pens if nothing else."
"Alright, you little shit! On your feet!" Two of the soldiers pulled him up none too gently, and made him walk. Miles could feel the ends of their rifles poking him in the back, and knew well that the slip of a finger would leave him full of holes. One step at a time, he walked back to the burning village, the stench of death filling his nose and his body a knot of agony.
For months, he toiled in a slave camp, where forced labor was used to manufacture weapons of war. It was there, from the slaves and from the end of the taskmaster's whip that he learned the rest of the mobian Common language, in which he previously had only a rudimentary education. He worked and slept, his body falling into a sad routine, but his mind… his mind wandered. He asked questions, and bared the contemptuous blows from those without answers or patience to explain them to what was apparently only a small child.
He learned that he was in the 'employ' of the so-called "Battle Bird Armada." He learned that the Armada had once been part of a great military that served a mighty king, and that they had been formed to fight the distant and powerful overlanders – hairless creatures, not mobian, but something else. These strange beings were powerful and dangerous, and the King had made war on them for many years. Eventually, the Kingdom had fallen and the king disappeared, presumed slain, by a treacherous overlander he had accepted into his inner circle. The Armada had fled rather than join the armies of the usurper, and now wished to carve out a kingdom or empire of their own.
But for that dream to come true, they needed more ships, and more and better weapons. So they raided island villages and towns, made the people into slaves and forced workers, and put them into industrial and agricultural complexes. Many times, Miles had thought of escape, but there really was nowhere to escape to. For a long time, he fell into a spiral of bitterness and despair, the only thing to occupy his mind being the machinations of the Armada, and the small role he had in the creation of their new empire.
And, in time, he developed an intricate knowledge of those weapons they used.
One day, using materials left lying around in the pens, he constructed a small rocket, and calculating the trajectory purely in his head, fired it out over the barracks of the Technical Overseer. Miles had seen the mobian numerous times before, and noted that he had an unhealthy affection for explosives of all sorts. The guards had been enraged by the display, and had of course beaten him, but when he woke up, he saw the Overseer looking down at him with a broad, honest smile.
"Let's see what you can do, kid." Colonel Bean had made that simple promise, and had been true to his word. The little green duck had given Miles an education, and then turned him loose on the real topics of interest to the Armada: Chemistry, Electronics, Physics, more Chemistry, more Physics. Bean himself simply loved explosives, he had little interest in how they worked, but Miles was enthralled. For all its might, and for all the books and learning it had on hand, the Armada had no real dedicated scientists. As a child savant with a natural, genius level IQ, Miles had still been a slave, but was no longer beaten.
It was an improvement, and Miles took to his assigned tasks with a gusto and determination that demonstrated his understanding that the alternative was a return to the pens and the labor camps. In a few months, he had digested the information from every relevant book the Armada had accumulated relating to weapons manufacture and explosives. It was then that Miles made his first adjustments and tentative designs, and it was then that Bean gave him his nickname.
"Miles Prower sounds retarded," Bean had proclaimed, while running his hands across a newly fabricated Fuel Air Explosive of Miles' design, the product of Project Maelstrom. "Tails. Your new name is Tails. How does that strike you?"
He hadn't liked it, at the time.
"Thank you, sir," had been his tart response.
Bean nodded then, and the matter was closed. "What was the overpressure on this again? What was it that you and the others calculated, Tails?"
"Well in excess of forty kilograms per square centimeter, sir," Miles… Tails… answered without apparent emotion. Though, really, he was quite proud of what sat before them, ready to be dropped from the lumbering airship. He just hoped that nothing went wrong. All his smaller projects had gone off well, but this was the Big One. He had bragged that it was possible, and after almost a year, he was ready to unveil his baby: Maelstrom 01.
"Additionally," he said, knowing Bean enjoyed hearing about the effects of a bomb as much as the actual explosion. "Once the firestorm has begun, the actual blast wave should reach supersonic speeds within a tenth of a second of primary ignition. My calculations put it at somewhere around eight times the speed of sound."
"Oh... yeeeahhh… Yeah!" Bean caressed the metal shell of the fuel air explosive bomb. "And the temperature? How hot does this little lady get!"
"Three thousand degrees centigrade, sir." Tails noted how Bean squirmed happily and giggled like an overeager schoolgirl. Not that he knew any overeager schoolgirls, of course, but he'd heard the soldiers of the Armada talk about them rather wistfully and describe them in sordid detail.
"Three thousand degrees!" Bean laughed with tears in his eyes, and hummed softly to the warhead. "You know, Tails, I'm almost sorry we have to detonate this little lady. This fine lady."
"The Air Marshal wishes to be assured of its effectiveness," Tails explained, deadpan. The fat bastard leading the Armada did not personally care for non-avian mobians, and despite Tails' apparent usefulness and technical expertise, the old mobian still thought of and treated him like a labor slave. Tails still bristled at how the Marshal had spoken of him in the third person, even when he was present, like he was some kind of pet dog that kept making a mess on the carpet.
'Being treated like a child was one thing, something I hardly ever knew, but as less of a mobian than those around me? As inferior, somehow, because of my race or deformity?' Tails felt the anger then, as now, at that reoccurring theme in his short life. He would show them. He would show them with His Maelstrom!
He and Bean went to the bridge of the airship, talking animatedly about what was to come, at least in theory. The bomb did most of its damage in the form of the overpressure wave, which would crush any targets in the first zone of impact, if the intense heat didn't flash fry them. The Marshal had wanted a bomb that was effective against both mobian and robotic targets, and from what examples Tails had been shown, The Maelstrom was more than capable of smashing both "SWATbots" and organic targets in the field. In an urban setting, the blast would be magnified even further.
They arrived at the bridge, and Tails was the only non-avian mobian among them. He was used to it by then, and didn't feel discomfort at standing out. He looked out over the bridge's array of windows, and saw the target area for the first time. It was a fairly lush bit of coastline that they were moving along. Then he saw it: a small mock town, with slightly damaged buildings and wind swept roads. It looked remarkably realistic.
"Target in sight," the ship's communications officer confirmed. "We have go. We have go."
"Making approach vector," the helmsman said, voice level.
As they picked up speed and gained altitude, Tails saw tiny dots on the roofs of some of the buildings. While he hadn't wanted to believe it before, he was now absolutely certain: that was a real town. A real seaside down, though it looked like it had been shelled once or twice before.
"Sir," Tails said, addressing Bean. "What is our target, exactly?"
"It's right in front of you, kid. You have to ask?" Bean rolled his eyes.
"But…" Tails almost protested, but held his tongue. "That is: isn't it wasteful to destroy potential slaves like this?"
Bean shrugged. "They're pirates, I think. It hardly matters. They've obviously been something of a pain in the ass, so we're going to blast 'em. Blast 'em to bits!"
Closer and closer, and Tails felt his heart race. Everyone else seemed quite calm and composed. Well, except for Bean, who had a slightly crazed look in eager anticipation of what was to come. He felt beads of sweat grow on his forehead, and wiped them away with the back of his hand. He repeated what bean had said, so off hand. They were Pirates. Criminals.
Like the Armada, but without the big guns to fight back and win.
Some of the tiny motes tried to fire up at the airship with handheld weapons. Some had light laser weapons, and some had slug throwers. None could have made any difference. Tails licked dry lips, and tried not to think who was down there. Whether they had families, and whether those families were hunkered down in makeshift shelters, praying and hoping to survive. The approach countdown hardly even registered in his mind.
But he felt it when the ship lurched, and dropped Maelstrom 01.
Running, as the ship turned and hit afterburners, Tails pressed his face up against the cold glass. Bean joined him, as did several others attached to the bridge crew. The sharp turn and acceleration away from the town didn't offer a great view, but it was hard to miss when what seemed like half the coastline lit up like a matchstick. First there was nothing, and then there was fire.
So much fire.
So that it was all he could see, burned forever into his memory.
He stumbled back, tripping on his own tails, his mouth slack and his breathing ragged. Bean whooped wildly, and the other members of the Armada soon joined him. The Captain clapped, a wide smile on his face, and for a moment Tails was struck dumb by the insanity of it all. And by the fact that he had done it. It had proved to them all what he was capable of, and that he was someone… something… they should respect.
All it had taken was the deaths of… how many? He didn't even know.
The tiny motes were all gone. The faceless mobians that had once lived, if tenuously at the edge of Armada Territory, would have been either cooked in their skin, blown to carbon ashes, or if they survived the fireball, were stumbling around blind and riddled with internal injuries, their roasted lungs flooding with blood and dead tissue. In one fell stroke, he had killed them. He had reached out, and with a fiery hand extinguished their small, little lives.
He hadn't thought of it before: the lives that would be lost.
When he had wandered the woods, alone, he hadn't thought about the lives of others. When he had been adopted for a few short months, he had hated and feared those around him, and they had tormented him mercilessly. His first real home that he could remember had been with the Battle Bird Armada. What had he cared for their enemies? Yet… yet he remembered so well the weary slaves in the work camps, the ones that he had never visited, and had been content to let construct his weapons like the Maelstrom. He remembered them suddenly, all on a rush, and he wondered how many children like himself had there been down there, before the fireball hit?
Mogul felt the waves of panic, and confusion, and fear and revulsion rise up and envelop him, through Miles' memories. He saw how Miles had turned against the Armada, orchestrated his escape, and then taken on a one-mobian war against them. He saw how their ships had been destroyed, and their leader broken. He saw how, after his work was done, Miles had thrown away or hidden his remaining weapons, and returned to a life of wandering. He saw how the young fox had followed Sonic, on a whim, and begun their friendship.
He felt how Miles found a new life with Sonic and the Freedom Fighters. He felt the boy's heart lighten when Sally spoke of the ideological greatness and purity they fought for. He could feel the passion rise in the child as she spoke of winning a war without terrible weapons, and without death and destruction. It was a grand foolishness, an idealism, that was only possible because of Sonic, and his heroics in the face of the superior firepower the Armada had so expounded. For a time, Tails had reveled in it, and eagerly, almost greedily, soaked up the affection and attentions of others who saw him as a child to be nurtured and protected.
Then, gradually, everything had changed.
The dream had died, not with a roar but with a whimper, by a thousand pinpricks rather than a calculated blow. Despite Sonic's heroism, the war was not being won. Despite Sonic's heroism, mobians and people died in droves. Sally's conviction remained strong, but Tails grew weary of the fighting, of the dying, and of the futility. Where once he had felt comfort, being a child, he came to find only frustration, as his efforts and suggestions were rebuffed and strangled by the limitations others imagined in him. He fled to Station Square, and there rededicated himself to the pursuit of victory.
In retrospect, Miles suspected that Bean would have been proud of what he became. In the end, the Armada, in all its ugliness, had found a portion of the truth. Ideology was nothing without the strength to back it up, and for all the beauty and inspiration of a dream like Sally's, the facts of the world never changed, and one always had to wake up eventually. So, for a second time, he became a God of War, and his name was once again Miles.
It was what he had to be, not what he wanted to be.
And Mogul understood.
