A long time ago, doomed with the foresight of the end times, Knuckles opened the tomb, believing in the Echidna prophecy which states that their savior will appear in the tomb when the time is right. Luckily, the prophecy was true, and Paul Blart appeared. Paul woke up and stared at the intense red echidna. He asked the animal bluntly, "what day is it?"

Knuckles proudly responds, "June 2nd, 2016. We've been waiting for this very moment. We have been gathering intel on an unrecognized gang, their insignia resembles that of a sideways infinity. They infiltrated the Diamonds' base on Earth, ransacked their blueprints of their new space prison, and now they're… why the angry face, Paul?"

Paul spat out, "well I'm from the future, and let me tell you those die-hard-monds are not your friends. They'll destroy the island."

The echidna gasped and responded, "we take that as an offense! Well, don't worry, we already figured a frozen being would need some sense shot into their skulls..." He pulls out a tranquilizer and shoots Paul in the neck. He passes out, and drops on the floor with an astounding THUD.

[...]

Knuckles lies in a hospital room. An echidna doctor unwraps bandages surrounding his new pair of legs. He swings open a wall-mounted cabinet and pulls out a foggy, green potion labeled Ibuprofen and walks back to Knuckles, tipping the mysterious liquid into his mouth. Knuckles opens his eyes and immediately clenches his fists in pain. His legs, they're so fresh in his torso that he could still feel the bones pushing around the set muscles around his waist in a natural attempt to rejoin with the rest of his body. However, the soothing relief of this dubious liquid calmed his nerves down. The doctor mumbles, "quick, drink up, this will help ease the pain."

The echidna struggles to say anything, but eventually he blurts out, "thanks doc, it's really helping me."

The doctor replies, "of course…"

Suddenly, a pager buzzed over the speakers, requesting "Hall 4, Emmett."

The doctor looks at Knuckles and addresses, "well, I got to check on the drowned patient in the next hall… Your body needs to rest, so it's best advised to remain here

Just push the button if you need me, alright?"

"Alright…"

Doctor Emmett walks out the door and closes it behind him. Alone, Knuckles rests, feeling proud that Angel Island is safe even without the Master Emerald. But this pride serves as nothing more than a distraction from the insecurities brewing within the echidna's mind, for he finally realizes that the Island can be protected without his help. His purpose, not void, yet diluted. He doesn't know whether or not to sigh out of relief or out of an unflinching mental fatigue. He chooses the latter, and rests his head back onto the comfortable hospital pillow. That is until the lights spark off.

All throughout the hospital, doctors scatter about, scurrying through every hall, attempting to aid wounded soldiers and civilians, all the while higher-ups attempt to jumpstart backup batteries. Emmett dashes his way towards Knuckles' room, navigating rather sufficiently through the dank dark hallways. He arrives to the right hall and tries to enter Knuckles' door, which is on the left end of the hall. Unexpectedly, drowned in the scattering sounds of footsteps, screams, and unspecified commotion, Emmett could hear the rattling of a doorknob. The doctor steps back and sees two glowing red dots stare at his forehead.

Knuckles hears screams emanating from outside his tiny room. Hurriedly, he tears apart the IV wires and covers his mouth in an attempt to remain silent. Then, he dashes towards the cabinet containing the mystical potion and chugs it whole, diluting his pain and kidneys alike. The door swings wide open, and Knuckles dashes out the window, tearing apart the blinds and exposing sunlight, exposing his own creation in a blinding morning sun. Knuckles slams his knuckles onto the side of the facility's third story. Dangling off the building, he attempts to slide down, but various pains prevent him from even letting go of his tenaciously-gripped hands. His organs felt like they were melting under the immense amounts of ibuprofen he consumed, and a drop of blood dripped out of his penis and onto the concrete hospital ground. Immensely stressed, Knuckles scales down the building at a snail's pace. But still, he's using every fiber of energy he could muster. He can't make it to the ground, he thinks. His legs probably won't support a drop, even a small one. So he desperately climbs down to the second story and hurls himself at the window. Too bad that waiting for him in the hall is RoboBlart himself. The robot observes the echidna's current condition and feels sad for a second. He asks, "Knuckles, you're lucky you're alive. You're lucky this island's still alive. But I'm luckier, for I remembered what today truly meant. Even though this suit brainwashed me to forget November 15th, luckily I knew deep down that your powers cannot destroy level 3 memories… Despite that, you attempted to bury them anyhow... Well, This morning I looked at the calendar and the last 900 years of my existence slowly resurfaced back into my consciousness. You suppressed my memories for it conflicted with your interpretation of the Shadow Man's curse… and now… you'll suffer. I didn't spend nearly a century just to compromise with the Diamonds!"

Knuckles attempts to move, but the shattered glass fragments scattered about his body, in tandem with his weakened legs and destroyed organs, leaves him trapped in an endless state of misery. But he's not giving up. His body struts close to RoboBlart, who stands coldly in front of the dying echidna. The furry animal finally thrust his arms towards Blart's segway feet and musters enough strength to spit out, "finally… gotcha… Wait…" Knuckles then looks up, shivering. He stares at his creation, begging for mercy, asking, "why aren't you moving?"

RoboBlart strolls down the hospital hallway he entered, with only his crimson-red eyes illuminating the path. Sparks of electricity scatter off dangling wires once connected to the backup generators. Tons of fleshy heads peeped through, whispering dogma, muffling screams. Half of their eyes were focused on the robot. Half of them were focused on Knuckles' forehead dangling off Blart's robotic hands. A bit of spine hanged off the decapitated head, and suffice to say, his skin tissue wasn't cut cleanly. Blart drove through the crowd, leaving behind bloody tire marks. Then, Paul turns his segways into rocket jets, crashes through the ceiling, leaving behind a glimmer of light.