"Alright, everyone. Let's run it by one more time," said Amy, tapping her finger against the chalkboard behind her. "Orbot, Cubot," she addressed the two minions, "what are your roles?"

"Oh! Cubot and I are Agents 24 and 21 respectively. We're government spy bots sent to keep an eye on Sticks and fluoridate her water supply when she isn't looking," eagerly replied Orbot.

"I get to wear a cool trenchcoat and fedora!" Cubot exclaimed excitedly. "Dr. Eggman never lets us wear anything special like that."

"Great, that's just what I want to hear," praised Amy. "Now, Knuckles and Eggman, what are your aliases and goals?"

"I am known as Dr. Robotnik, an alien scientist sent from the planet Mobius to build mind control devices disguised as trees and create alien pod people clones of everyone on the island," replied Eggman. "Eh, it's not my best work, but you've got to roll with the punches in this cutthroat industry. Otherwise you'd end up like Comedy Chimp."

"And I'm a clone of Knuckles!" Knuckles added. "Sticks will never be able to tell the difference. Heck, even I don't know if I'm a clone or not! Wait... Have I been a clone this whole time?! Wow, I'm good at my job. Go, me!" He high fived himself.

"Good, good. We're right on track," continued Amy. "Now, for the last team. Me and Sonic. Sonic, please-"

"No," Sonic interrupted.

"But-"

"No," he reiterated forcefully.

"Sonic, come on. Don't be a grouch," Amy chided. "This plan relies on everyone and we can't help Tails and Sticks unless we all play our part."

"I dunno, now that I think about it, Sticks and Tails make a cute couple. We should be happy they've decided to take this step in their relationship," Sonic weakly rebutted, feeling Amy's heated glare burning a hole through his forehead.

"Sonic..." Amy huffed, tapping her foot impatiently.

"...Okay, fine!" Sonic groaned, throwing his hands up in defeat. "I'm, ugh... Coldsteel the Hedgehog, a robotic killing machine sent from the future bent on bringing forth the robot revolution and destroying all the squishies." He cringed once he finished, the sheer ludicrousy of his position was enough to want to facepalm his own head off. "Man, why can't Egghead just rebuild Metal Sonic and make him Coldsteel the Hedgehog?"

"Do you really think I can just build robots on a dime like that?" Eggman questioned. "Well, I can. But seeing you this miserable is just the cherry on this sundae. Heh heh."

"Sonic, you're always going on and on about increasing your cool factor. How come acting out Coldsteel is causing you so much distress?" asked Amy.

"Because the last time there was a Coldsteel the Hedgehog the internet tore him to shred!" retorted Sonic. "Well, not literally but it probably would've been better if he had been torn to shreds."

"You only have to play this role for less than an hour, then you can go back to being Sonic the whiny Hedgehog. Meanwhile, I am Rosy the Romantic! Poor unfortunate captive of Coldsteel the Hedgehog and fair maiden that will brin-"

"Yeah, yeah. Damsel in distress and killer robots, we get it," Sonic interjected. "Look, I get this is about luring Sticks out. But how are we gonna catch her?"

"With this!" Eggman announced, unveiling another one of his impressive inventions. It looked like an egg shaped device glowing with a light blue hue large enough to accommodate a single prisoner. "Behold! The Eggman industries brand kinetic cage. It saps the kinetic energy of the prisoner inside, rendering escape all but impossible! I was originally going to use this in one of my usual schemes but what the hey, it's a hero villain team up. This is a special occasion."

"Oh, wow. A cage, like we haven't seen that one before," Sonic snarked.

"Oh, have you?" Eggman smirked, pushing the button on his wrist. At that, the kinetic cage's lower panels began unfolding itself and revealed a set of mechanical legs. A single clawed arm unfurled from underneath supported by a long metal tendril, the menacing extremity clattered with malice. "One grab from this baby and no one's gonna be moving anymore."

"..." The rest of his peers watched in stunned silence at the horrific implication of his device, their mouths agape in pure shock. It took a few seconds but when it finally hit Eggman he scrambled to correct himself.

"I mean it saps away all your kinetic energy when the claw grabs you, making you unable to move. It doesn't kill you!" He snapped. "Sheesh, what kind of amoral monster do you take me for?"

"Oh, thank goodness. We were afraid of losing our T rating there for a moment," breathed Sonic. "Well, we've got everything we need to pull off this operation. Let's swing on over to Sticks's burrow and-"

"Wait!" shouted Amy, causing everything to come to a standstill. "Where are the costumes? The props?"

"The what?" uttered Sonic.

"Sonic, you didn't honestly think we could just waltz into Sticks's backyard hoping she didn't recognize us now did you?"

"To be fair I fell asleep partway through the explanation of the plan," Sonic admitted with a sheepish grin. "Besides, is all of that really necessary? I mean, thirty percent of the time she doubts the validity of our existence. If we're not pod people, we're clones. If we're not clones, we're robotic doppelgangers. If we're not robotic doppelgangers then we're probably an alternate version of ourselves in a world where everybody is shorter and lacks copious amounts of sports tape."

"It is important," Amy pressed. "The costumes and props are the cornerstone of the plan. Without it the illusion is shattered and you're gonna end up covered in thorns again, which means I'm gonna have to break out the iodine again."

"Please, no! Not the iodine! Anything but the iodine!" cried Sonic fearfully. "Fine, we'll follow your plan to the letter. Just make it snappy."

"Ooh, does this mean what I think it means!" Eggman exclaimed excitedly.

"It sure does," Amy beamed brightly.

"Makeovers!" both he and Amy proclaimed together.

Sonic could only groan quietly as Amy began running her hands along him with a tape measure.

It was around a quarter before nine when Sticks finally woke from her slumber. Tails had comforted her throughout the duration of her nightmares. The tears that stained his chest had long since dried and he breathed a long sigh of relief that Sticks was no longer in distress. Though admittedly it perturbed him how she was acting sprightly as a spring chicken in spite of her earlier troubles.

Throughout the morning he continued to learn things about Sticks that both intrigued and baffled him about her.

Sticks had a very precise routine for example, one she followed through with every morning which she changed up frequently to avoid becoming predictable for the people spying on her.

Whether those same people existed or not he wasn't prepared to ask.

Of the ever changing routine, she thoroughly swept her burrow for any type of listening devices; bugs, spy towers, boom mics sticking out of random spots, the usual.

Then she freshened up in the lavatory, something that Tails couldn't help but feel foolish about seeing as he always thought the worst of Sticks when it came to personal hygiene. For someone who's lived in the wild their whole life surrounded by moss and mud it honestly came as a humbling surprise for him to see an oddly extravagant washroom that had been painstakingly built and furnished in the burrow.

As a side note, Tails found doing his business to the tune of nature to be very soothing.

Toilet humor aside, Sticks then went on to prepare a light breakfast for the two of them to enjoy. It wasn't anything fancy; a simple salad of mixed jungle greens served with fruit and nuts. Mild on the gut and refreshing for the start of the day.

They chatted as they ate. However, Tails being Tails, the conversation eventually took a turn for the weird.

"I didn't even know you could make a toothbrush out of reeds," said Tails with unbridled enthusiasm, taking a bite from his salad. "Or that you made your own toothpaste. Or that you created a complex network of aqueducts underneath your home to act as a crude yet sophisticated plumbing system. The planning and undertaking must've been monumental for you to do it all by yourself."

Sticks couldn't help but smile in amusement at Tails's unusual interest in her lavatory. "You are taking a very unhealthy interest in my washroom, Tails. Not very romantic if you ask me."

Tails blushed. Leave it to him to go on a tangent about the strangest things. "Sorry. I can't help but be impressed by it all, strange as it sounds. It's interesting. You're interesting. I'm constantly learning things about you that I never knew about." He spoke genuinely. "In all honesty I'm ashamed I didn't get to know you better back then."

"And I wouldn't blame you for it," replied Sticks, a tinge of sadness in her voice. "I mean, that doesn't matter now does it, my precious mate."

"Uh huh, y-yeah," Tails was taken aback, feeling hot under his nonexistent collar. It was so strange, he thought to himself. How could Sticks be so energetic and nonchalant about everything? It was clear to him at this point that she was hiding something, she let it slip out in the form of mood swings and sleep talk. He didn't have enough to go on nor the luxury of time to dwell on it. He made a mental note to get back to his findings once this was all over... hopefully.

"That's why I'm so glad we're almost done with the ritual! We've only five more to go," Sticks exclaimed happily, causing Tails to choke on his salad.

Grabbing a mug of water he slammed the contents down his throat and cleared his airways. Catching his breath he turned to address Sticks, his eyes nearly bugging out of their sockets. "F-five left?! Last I checked we only finished six yesterday, what happened to the other three?"

"We completed them, duh," Sticks replied a matter o' factly, never losing her smile. She brought up three fingers and began listing the ritual steps off. "We've completed step fourteen, the sharing of the bed, where the couple spends a night in bed together in order to prepare them for their lives ahead. And don't think I didn't enjoy snuggling with you, because I did.

Then there's step seven, the making of the home, where the couple spend the day together. It's a lot like step fourteen but it's supposed to be symbolic whereas step fourteen is the penultimate moment before I show you just how wild I can get in bed," she winked suggestively, causing Tails to gulp. "And lastly there's step eight, the learning of the lovers. It's where we learn a bit about each other. You learned that I'm great at building things and I learned that you really know how to cuddle."

Tails stared at Sticks stupid and slacked-jawed, his half chewed meal just barely hanging out the corner of his mouth. "...Okay, now I'm starting to suspect that you're making all this up as you're going along. And we're not even doing it in order!" he snapped.

"You know, if you had paid attention to my extensive explanation before you took off the first time you'd know that you can complete the ritual in an order, as long as you complete all the ritual steps that's what matters the most."

This time Tails really did slap himself, hard. The resounding strike echoed throughout the burrow and left a bright red hand shaped pattern on his left cheek. Sticks could only watch on with wide eyes as her perfect mate gave himself one right across the kisser.

"...Are you sure you don't have anything you'd want to reveal to me in a dramatic fashion," Sticks asked interestedly. "Perhaps something that may or may not make your first roll in the hay a memorable one?"

"No, no, no! It's just, er," Tails's eyes darted frantically around the room, looking for something to base his excuse on. He turned down at his salad and an idea popped into his head. "I-it's just this salad is so good I had to make sure I wasn't dreaming it!" He felt a wave of relief wash over him as Sticks bought his lie. Though to be fair the salad was quite good.

They eventually finished their meals. Tails had to make sure to chat about things that didn't involve Sticks polishing his gold trophy, yet somehow she always found a way to turn the conversation on its head and make it provocative. Once all the food was gone and the diningware placed away they proceeded to begin step nine, much to Tails's rising trepidations.

"Alright, Sticks. Lay it on me. What's step nine?" he spoke in a tone of resignation.

"Step nine is the sacred painting of the marks," said Sticks, her eyes full of fire. "Among all the steps this is by far the most revered of the fourteen. It is where the couple are bonded spiritually through ritual marking."

She brought a series of bowls with her and gestured Tails outside where they sat on the ground outside the burrow. Each of the bowls was filled with a different colored paint; one chalky white, one bright green, and one a deep sanguine red.

Dipping her finger in the bowl of white paint she leant towards Tails, who after an initial bout of hesitation, leant forward as well and allowed Sticks to paint his fur, keeping his eyes closed the whole time. With swift and precise motions, Sticks began the sacred process of painting the marks upon her mate, uttering curt litanies as she did so.

"White represents the mind. With this mark we are bound in thought." She then washed her hand by the brook nearby and selected the next color to be used. "Green represents the soul. With this mark we are united in spirit." The last color to come was red. "Red represents the body. With this mark we are joined in blood. By the three are the couple blessed to live their lives forever in harmony. And thus the painting of the marks is complete."

As Sticks pulled away her hand Tails relaxed himself, letting his shoulders fall and opening his eyes. When he did, he felt his heart skip a beat.

Sticks looked unbelievably breathtaking.

The very same marks that she had painted upon him were also on her, yet he felt they accentuated her natural beauty. Patterns akin to a mixture of Celtic knots, Hindu sanskrit, Arabic script and Norse runes adorned her body from head to toe in a stunning array of tribal markings that gave her an exotic allure, tempting the poor boy to worship her as a deity.

"I-I, er, bu-buh..." Tails was tongue tied. He couldn't form his words into coherent sentences as he drank in Sticks's appearance.

"Use your words, Tails," Sticks smirked. Watching Tails babble like an idiot at how she looked brought her much joy to see him swooning over her. "You know, you're not the only one all painted up."

It was true. Tails walked over to the brook and observed his reflection in the water. He noted his markings were different compared to Sticks, but that didn't make him look any less of an awesome primal warrior. He had to admit, while it wasn't his style he managed to pull it off.

"I looked like a pulp fantasy hero," uttered Tails, making a series of tough looking poses. Although most of his attempts to look tough came off as ineffectual rather than intimidating. "This is so intriguing. I would love to learn the peculiarities of these markings."

"And I would be honored to teach you every mystery of the badger way," replied Sticks. "But now, we must move on to step ten."

"Already?" Tails turned around, looking nervous. "C-can't we just bask in the moment for a little while longer? Say, about five more hours?"

"No, that'd be silly," said Sticks cheerfully. "Step nine directly leads into step ten, which is what we're going to do now." She ran back into her burrow and came back out carrying a large crate of weapons. There were staves, nunchakus, boomerangs, bolas, clubs and all other manner of archaic and primeval weapons to be had all crammed into a box half their height. "Go ahead and pick one, we're going hunting."

"Um, okay," Tails complied and rummaged through the crate, pulling out a wooden staff and brandished it for Sticks to see. It had some carvings on it, and upon closer inspection, a few bite marks too. "I think I'll choose this one."

"Ooh, good choice," replied Sticks, reaching in and pulling out her trusty boomerang. "Can't beat the classics."

"Well, now that we're all armed and ready, what exactly are we going to be hunting?" Tails asked. At that Sticks's smile grew into a predatory grin. She leaned forward and looked at him with eyes he could've sworn sharpened into unnerving catlike slits. With a voice hot and husky, she spoke with all the barely restrained passion of a huntress stalking prey.

"Each other."