5.

"That's right, chickens, run back home to your daddy! Maybe he'll teach you a few manners while he's at it!"

With a huff Amy chased the drones to the curb. If they thought they could harass them like this and get off scot-free, well, then, they had another thing coming.

They eluded her just as they rounded the corner. She broke out into a sprint and vaulted a fence to close the gap. Planting her feet on the landing, she pitched her hammer at them with all the strength she could muster.

The blow only destroyed one of four, but one was more than enough to send a clear message. Her hammer arced wide and landed true. Metal and wire puffed apart, fluttering down in short-lived fiery curls.

Heat broiled her cheeks from within. Amy stood panting, clutching the edges of her skirt, while seconds later her Piko dropped to the concrete with a solid thump.

She wasn't angry; she was livid. Who did Eggman think he was? If she could tear this city down just to prove a point to that old man's smug face plastered everywhere, mocking them around every corner, she would.

Even so, something urged her to return immediately to the one-way street and monitor Tails, to retrieve her hammer and jog around the corner before more sentries spotted her and harassed them. Making matters worse was that these were the kind to tote guns and proved all too happy to chop you to bits. If she hadn't roused when she had, they might have turned them into kibble. She swore, if they'd so much as touched a hair on his head…

Amy balled her fists, pumping them in front of her as her rubber soles slapped the pavement. This anger felt different. It wasn't the same kind that arose when Sonic forgot their dates or when someone said something careless to her—those subsided with time, softened by perspective. This one felt like a fire had blossomed inside her chest, clamoring to be set free. And to be frank, it scared her that she'd let it loose so easily.

Normally she would have reacted to her own outburst with surprise, perhaps even a little embarrassment. But anger kept you alert to danger, she supposed, and as long as it sustained her, she could do without her ladylike scruples nagging her to temper that instinct.

For now, survival would have to trump some measure of civil inhibition. Her angry thoughts pushed aside the dreadful ones, and for the time being she would let them fill her mind, fill those awful, empty spaces where fear would otherwise crawl inside. Once believed, fear would never let go.

The chainlink rattled as she slid down, and she slowed her pace. Tails still huddled where she'd found him, leaning against a small concrete stack. She feared moving him from should sudden motion exacerbate his state. He showed no outward sign of injury, but you could never tell with these kinds of things. She knelt and shook him gently on the arm.

"Tails, wake up," she begged. "Please, wake up… "

He remained motionless at her touch, making her wish desperately Cream were here to assess the damage. She'd inhaled some of the smoke, too, though she remained relatively healthy.

As a matter of fact, she was certain they all had. Because they'd been closest to the epicenter of the fight, Tails and Shade had received the full brunt of Ix's magical inferno. While Shade's respirator filtered out most of the sulfurous cocktail, he had inhaled the fumes whole. She could only begin to imagine what kind of damage they must be wreaking now.

Amy whispered an advance apology, "Sorry, Tails," and pinched the inside of one of his ears. Thank heaven, his pulse responded to her ministration, throbbing a strong rhythm against her fingers.

She then monitored him for breath, feeling his chest as it rose shakily against her hand. He could breathe on his own, but with some measure of difficulty. He still needed that concentrator.

Amy glanced around her surroundings, nibbling on her thumb in nervous concentration. But what? The concentrator might have been destroyed in the blast, and equipment like that probably wasn't available here, if at all.

Pushing herself up, she ran to the chainlink fence and hooked her fingers through the gaps, peering around the corner. There had to be a solution. She couldn't just leave him here like this.

The carnage scattered on the curb caught her eye, and she sprinted toward it. Maybe she could use those parts to make something halfway more useful than those stupid drones. Even if she wasn't the handiest, it'd suffice for a short time. She nudged the carnage with the toe of her boot, scowling at the mustached insignia stamped on its curve.

Don't even get me started on you. Kneeling down, she unscrewed the thin plastic cover from the carapace the way one would remove a thermos lid, copying the way she'd seen Tails do many times. However, she misjudged the hike the drone's internal temperature took when its engine exploded. The immediate consequence was that the cover jumped out of her hands, hissing steam.

"Ahh! Hot, hot!" She pinched its outermost edge and alternated between frantically blowing on it and waving it out until the white patches bubbling on the plastic ebbed. Now for something to pierce it through… A propeller blade?

Good as good does.

Using the blade's flat end, she punched seven small holes through the plastic, five forming a crude star pattern on its face. She tucked the cloth against the cup's innermost layer, to trap smog and unnecessary particles, and pulled out two strips through the holes she'd punched through the sides to form a rudimentary filter. It wasn't her best, but given that she had minutes at most to get this done she couldn't exactly nitpick her own handiwork.

She returned with the supplies cradled in her arms, and assembled them in front of Tails' listless body. After nestling the impromptu respirator over his mouth, she tied the knot behind his head and jerked both ends snug.

"This is what we used to do when the dust storms rolled in," she said, her mind conjuring up images of yellow silt rolling along Never Lake's shore. "If it worked for us, I don't see why it shouldn't work for you, too, right?" She gave a firm tug. " …Right."

In truth, Amy worked from a vague childhood memory, snatches of ideas and incomplete chunks of information. She was far from certain she'd connected all the pieces correctly, though time would tell her if she had.

She reclined against the brick and hugged her knees to her chest. Her solution wasn't perfect in the least, nor effective without the reinforcement of proper medical attention, the existence of which… She highly doubted in Eggman's twisted little playground. But she had to dilute the risk of this polluted air further damaging his airways. As her own caregivers used to say: an ounce of prevention was worth a pound of cure.

Burying her head into her skirt, Amy tried smiling to herself. She tried to picture him in a different backdrop instead, a more comfortable one. As much as it wasn't the case, she wanted to believe that he'd nodded off over blueprints again and slumbered at his desk with a blanket draped over his shoulders. She would switch off his lamplight, and Stanley, his faithful flower and part-time control experiment, would flourish in his protective glass bubble at his side.

"Hey." She caught the disc as it slipped and refastened it. "I don't care how dorky you think it looks, keep it on. No need to breathe in more of this nasty stuff."

Often she was told she had a special touch when it came to caring for the ill, which was usually due to observers thinking that sickness obeyed her whims when she knew there was no real secret to it at all. You just had to listen to what the sickness was telling you, no matter how much it might hurt to hear the answer. Listen and wait.

She just hoped she wouldn't have to wait for long.

He stirred after what seemed an eternity. His eyes cracked open, blinked once and widened a little as they adjusted to the smoggy atmosphere. Murky blue swam toward awareness.

"Son… ic." Tails took a small, juddering breath and squeezed his eyes shut before easing them open again, as if forcing out the memory of a bad dream.

She flinched at his sudden jolt. He glanced in every direction, bristling the more aware he became of his surroundings. Given the things that had happened to them in the past few hours, she could hardly blame him. When he finally looked back at her, guileless and full of curiosity, she felt as though she were a lone straw floating in the ocean. "Wha— Where's—"

A lone straw she'd have to be. She wrapped him inside a hug, and didn't let go.

"Amy?"

She nodded, dreading the question now more than ever.

"Just… " His breath hissed, too softly buried under flimsy plastic. " …Where are we?"

"Okay, help me out here. Was it bigger than this thing?"

Tails shook his head.

"Not bigger than the squiggly antenna, all right." Another tidbit bounced onto the discard pile as Amy pawed through the garbage. Eventually she pulled out something that resembled a broken jury rig and twirled its loose ends in front of herself. "What about this thing? It's kinda small… ish."

Nilch.

She sighed. "You sure?"

More insistent.

"Gosh, you're so picky… How big was it again?" She held her hands with their palms facing one another as if cradling a balloon between them. "Smaller?" Slowly she deflated the balloon until Tails confirmed its size with another nod. "I think I saw something like that, hang on… Was it…

"No, wait! It's this thing." She pulled out the correct component, brandishing her acquisition with a flourish. "Gotcha, ya little poop! Thought you could hide from Amy Rose, couldn't you?" Tossing it to Tails, she laughed. "Lucky for you, I don't suck at charades."

A warm wind beckoned her upward gaze. Curiously, the stacks emitted from the factory flues on the horizon pulled together, edged toward a vortex she couldn't see.

Her breath halted in her lungs. Sonic?

She rubbed her eyes and the black wisps cleared, wafting down in calm drifts. Whatever was happening on the other side of town was certainly more exciting (more dangerous, she corrected herself) than digging through the trash for parts to cobble together a working communicator. From that, something approached, though it seemed too bright to be a drone.

She squinted. "Cream?" Jumping to her feet, she pumped her arms in vigorous arcs. "Hey! Down here!"

"Amy?" Cream grounded herself quickly. "Behind you!"

Pivoting around, she came face-to-face with a Nocturnus bolting straight toward them.

Panic fluttered in her chest. Wait, what on earth were they doing here? Had some of them managed to chase them through the Twilight Cage? And if this one had escaped, how many more were there?

Brandishing her hammer, Amy shoved Tails in the back with her free hand. Now couldn't be the time to play twenty questions with the enemy. "Get in the house. Hurry!" She then blocked the Nocturnus' path with an outstretched arm, allowing Cream and Cheese to sprint inside the house. "Hey, pal, didn't you hear? No intruders welcome."

He slowed his pace, unsheathing twin blades. "Don't I know it," he replied. "Primitive."

They lunged for each other at the same time.

"Whoa!" Amy backpedaled, her swing halted mid-step as green light shaved air hairbreadths from her nose. "That's no fair!"

"Neither is having to fight someone so inexperienced. Yet here I am." The scout speared his foot into her hand, and with a sharp sting loosening her grip, her Piko flew overhead. She was parried by a cross-swing when she reached for it.

"My hammer! Give it back—"

"Amy, come on!" Tails croaked in a voice that startled her, offering his hand through the open door.

With a desperate glance backward, she scrambled for it, only to be intercepted by a fist the Nocturnus shot out. He seized her by the ankle and dragged her down, causing her to tumble halfway on the threshold and land on her stomach with a brief scream.

Cream cried out. She and Tails rushed in time to grab hold of each one of her hands, though it took their doubled strength just to keep him at bay.

"Oh, now you asked for it—let go of me, you creep!" Amy bucked and thrashed, stabbing at the Nocturnus with the heel of her free boot but failing to inflict substantial damage to his armor. After a few moments of struggling like this, she couldn't take the tension pulling her from both ends. "Don't stretch me, you guys! I'm not a piece of taffy!"

"We're—really sorry," Tails wheezed.

The Nocturnus drew back a blade.

Her expression scrunched tight, Cream unleashed a firm command: "Sic!"

Cheese latched onto him in a frenzy, breaking his hold. Amy tumbled into their laps. Cheese evaded a downwards chop and flew back in. Tails shoved the door into its jamb, snapping the deadbolt into place.

That wasn't the end, though. Far from. Amy glimpsed behind her shoulder with a gasp; she threw herself over Cream as the front window panes shattered around them. The Nocturnus vaulted over the wreckage and leapt onto the carpet, the dust that rose flouring his boots.

As the curtains flapped against the hot, liberated wind, he studied them as a predator studies prey. Rising to a full stand, he flicked out his retractable leech blades. The motion shot a chill down her spine.

He ran toward them.

To their horror, Tails also turned and ran. Amy pulled Cream up, and the two stowed inside a staircase closet nearby, Cheese latching the flimsy clasp just in time for a leech blade to gouge a major rut in the door.

"Tails, what're you doing?" Amy cried, then pointed. "Quick, start putting things against the door!"

They scurried behind a bureau and strained to bar its weight against the siege, though that did little to alleviate the flurry of slashes and cuts the scout leveled at the door, each one poking more light through the dark. Cream shoved out one deep gash and covered the hole with her hands while Amy strained her back against the bureau to keep it from budging on its hind legs.

Bang. The girls ducked their heads to avoid another gash, loosening the bureau's hold as it rocked. Bang. Splinters rose on the lacerations like bristled hairs. Each passing moment weakened the door's structure a little more.

"What do we do?" Cream asked. "We can't hold him forever!"

Amy grimaced. "We're gonna fight if we have to," she said. "On the count of three. Ready?"

She had just drawn in a breath to summon her nerve when the door snapped on its hinges and flew wide open. Their visitor barged through.

"Cream!"

Amy rushed in front of her, wielding the door's pitiful remains as a shield as the blade crashed down. A horrendous crack and a shower of splinters made Cream wrench away, fearing the worst. By some miracle the door held; they were still alive. Terrified, but alive.

Amy clutched two jagged halves, now little more than glorified planks in her hands. Her stare was dismal. Her hands fought to quell their incredulous tremors while the scout addressed them.

"If you didn't wish to get hurt, you should have kept to yourselves." He pointed at Cream, who flinched. "Where is the other one?"

"Like we'd tell you," said Amy.

"Excuse me?"

"You heard." She turned away while the scout took the opportunity to encircle her, unwilling to let them slip from his sight. Small pieces of wood crunched inside her tightening fists.

With a stout flick that was no means friendly, he knocked Amy's hand open and scattered the chips to the floor. Cream gaped in the closet's darkness, clasping both hands over her mouth.

"Either you play nice, little girl, or not at all."

That sparked the fuse. Amy barreled forth with her free fist — and when he countered by catching it just as it flew for his head, she used the opening to drive a knee between his ribs. Several jabs followed after he staggered, speed blurring motion. It became difficult to register every individual blow through those that ensued.

She fought ferociously without her hammer, even though it became painfully clear from her various outcries that it hurt her hands to even drive scuffs into such dense armor. During a careless overhand punch he seized hold of her wrists, headbutted her twice—her canines snapping in her jaw, camera bulbs popping powerful flashes behind her eye sockets—and left her to slump against the wall.

"Amy," Cream cried. Climbing over the bureau, she grabbed her friend's hand and the two watched the scout backflip onto the balcony above them. Leaning in a feline crouch, he cocked his head, his soft chuckle emitting static.

"All too easy."

Just then a grinding howl erupted from his suit. Amy instinctively hugged the others, the three of them huddling together to block out the electric banshee scream that shrilled in their ears.

Inch by inch, gravity bore down on the scout. The leech blade in his left hand fell, followed by the right.

As the sound marched on, slowly, almost reluctantly, he tottered to and fro. At last he dropped to a steep kneel against the railing, grunting in pain. The light in his blades blinked gray for a moment before he managed to fumble his grip around one handle.

When the noise ceased there was a terse moment of silence, dust wandering in through the hazy red outside. Compressed panting sounded much like crackled feedback. Cream shuddered in Amy's arms until she felt them relent.

Tails appeared from the far corner. One eye winced shut, his right hand plugged a finger in his ear. In his left, he aimed a strange black device that looked like a ribbed-handle spot torch attached to a trigger.

The scout leapt for him and he pulled the trigger again, unleashing another sonic barrage that knocked him down, cracking one of the railing pillars under his weight.

"You little freak!" A strangled cry tore from his throat as the scout whipped his blade around. "You're gonna pay for that!"

Instead of eliminating its target, however, it shattered a nearby terra cotta pot into pieces. The brittle foliage inside withered with steam curling from their shriveled blooms.

Unperturbed, Tails kept the device aimed steady.

Amy seized the opportunity to act. Leaping up the stairwell, she elbowed the scout into the wall and kicked his other blade off the balcony, depriving him of the chance to scramble another offense.

"Buddy, the only freak I see around here is you," she said, "and you're gonna get yours if you don't knock it off! Hit him again, Tails!"

She pointed and the mysterious process repeated. Immediately the scout doubled over. His hands clutched at his temples as he once again sank to a kneel on the floor, struggling to maintain his bodily composure.

Cream found no pleasure in the thought of any living being receiving pain. No matter how deeply their evil may have merited it, the concept remained foreign to her and always would. But she knew that sometimes giving pain was all one could do to ward the proverbial torch that would stave off the wolves—and, given what had just happened, was it wrong to say she felt relieved?

She recalled Knuckles, stuck under the rubble, being thrown about at Dr. Eggman's whim like a toy. Maybe if she acted with haste, she could prevent more people from getting hurt.

"Cheese, come!" Summoning her Chao, she pitched him forth in a ball. As the Nocturnus tried to swat him away, she capitalized on his distraction with a high kick to punt him into the carpet's folds. The three converged on him, ready to pounce at once, but this time he lay inert.

There was a rough snort. "I don't need to waste it on you," the scout said, and disappeared in a flash of light.

The silence that followed suffocated.

" …Cream?" Tails called tentatively, and coughed into his fist, his voice rough in his throat like gravel. "Amy? You okay?"

"Better than that jerk's gonna be, that's for sure." Amy hmphed once in their guest's former direction, wrinkling her nose in no subtle attempt to broadcast her distaste. She'd always disliked the Nocturnus one way or another, thinking them too arrogant for their own good. She was rubbing one arm idly, though, so perhaps she hadn't been entirely unmoved by the scout's admonition.

"Amy… " Cream said. "You're hurt."

"I am?" She touched a patch of fur over her left eye that had started to swell and grow a shade more purple than her natural pink. "Gosh, I guess so. I'm just glad he didn't knock any of my teeth out. How embarrassing would that be?"

She also caught patches of a rusty hue stiffening the material of her gloves. "Your hands, too—" she began, but was dismissed by the weak smile Amy offered while rubbing at her knuckles with one finger.

"Don't worry about it. He fought too much like a wuss to make it hurt, anyway."

Deciding that Amy wanted her to be satisfied with that response—though on the inside she couldn't help but wince—Cream looked back to Tails, who had perched himself on the top step and was examining the device's components with a similarly detached fugue.

It seemed everyone was now winding down, splintering off into their own thoughts. Not that she would blame anyone. Exhaustion slowed her limbs, whereas with Sonic at her side, adrenaline had struck an almost constant spark within them.

Cheese wriggled his way under her wrist, nudging the Emerald hidden in her dress pocket. His timid Chao as he nuzzled his cheek against it was quiet but weary.

Cream stroked his head. "I know, Cheese. You did very well with helping us." She gave him one last reassuring squeeze before setting him airborne. Cheese yawned and rubbed both nubby arms over his eyes, and she took the opportunity to adjust his grimy, crooked ribbon. What would Mr. Sonic say in a situation like this? Something like: "Just a little while longer, okay?"

"Someone must have lived here." Amy's voice cut the silence. "Look. They didn't even have time to take their pictures with them."

She turned to see what her friend was pointing to. A painting lay propped against the wall in the corner, its frame warped, its canvas slashed apart and its insides peeled out, yellow sheafs curling stiffly outward. Beneath it glinted a pool of small glass shards.

Though she couldn't imagine who would have been able to salvage a painting that damaged, she murmured disappointment. "Those poor people."

Amy ran a finger along an old radial telephone that sat on a gnashed side table beneath the ruined painting, drawing a single line of cleanliness in its plastic casing. Her mouth twisted into a grimace as she tried to rub the dust from her fingers. "They're probably better off not living near Eggman, though. I know I wouldn't want him as my neighbor."

Cream glanced softly toward Cheese, sharing the same unspoken thought they'd had ever since they embarked into space. They'd left home to save the world, a priority which always topped their list no matter how they diced it, but… This painting… This faded carpet whitened by years of Nocturnus boot tread… Its gold-tasseled diamond pattern reminded her of something her mother would have knit.

And, speaking honestly, she hadn't truly realized how cold it could get on a spaceship, had she? She hadn't thought to check. She hadn't thought of anything. Hadn't changed her clothes, hadn't packed a lunch, hadn't gotten a coat or a scarf or a toothbrush, crayons or her favorite pillow. Hadn't fixed Cheese's ribbon after Sonic had graciously carried him back to her from his entrapment inside a dusty temple. Her mother's counter was bereft of a note…

We just… left…

Her throat constricted while Amy unlocked the deadbolt and retrieved her hammer outside. She shook her head, knowing she must continue to be brave for the team's welfare, if just for a bit longer. It wouldn't do them any good not to keep their wits about them, if their most recent skirmish was anything to go by. Besides… It wasn't as though one house represented every house. Right?

Cheese's wings beat back dust motes. She slipped her hand inside her dress pocket and squeezed the Emerald she'd tucked there for safekeeping, pressing her fingers against the glass to feel its reassuring warmth press back. Sonic entrusted her to guard it from that awful Eggman, and she vowed not to fail him again.

A sacred gem could only do so much, though.

Mama…

The door squeaked open. "The Nocturnus keep leaving their stuff lying around like this, I bet Tails'll feel like a kid in a candy store." Amy's voice startled her out of her reverie, prompting her to stuff the Emerald back down and smooth her pocket.

But that was what she usually did when she was nervous: talked too much to fill Cream's lack of conversation. It wasn't anything out of the ordinary, so why did she feel jittery as well?

Despite knowing that Amy wouldn't have seen it at all, Cream still suffered a twinge of guilt at having to hide the gem. It wasn't that she didn't trust her friends—but if that scout had laid eyes upon the jewel, the situation could have taken a much more dangerous route. She wasn't sure if she'd have been able to bear it if…

Keeping artifacts with the potential for unlimited power inevitably gave some people control issues, but Cream hadn't a self-serving bone in her body to consider anything but the welfare of others. Now, however, she imagined having to hold the Emerald away from a bunch of snatching hands.

Playing what-if would only compromise that. The only way to keep it safe was to keep it close… And, she hoped, with any luck, her friends would understand.

Amy decided to venture elsewhere. She picked up the fallen leech blade by its handle, gently blew off a whorl of steam pealing from its curved edge, and turned it over to examine both sides. "Weird when it doesn't glow like that. What do you think it actually does?"

"Um." Although she knew Amy was simply making idle conversation as usual, she preferred not to explore the implications of this one, judging from the flowers crushed underneath the remains of the shattered terra cotta. "Maybe we ought to leave it alone until Tails says it's safe."

"That would be wise, wouldn't it." She dropped the blade with a sigh. Useless now. "I just wish Sonic were here." She let that thought trail off, her voice much softer as she studied the light trickling through the hole in the window. "I hope he's safe."

"Amy… " Cream said. "I—"

She traipsed up the stairs. "Tails, where's your mask?" A quick glance found it sitting on the carpet beside him. Picking it up by its plastic strip, she dangled it in front of him so it blocked his view of his work. "Here, you crazy lil' poop. Put it back on." He shrugged it away. "Tails."

"Don't need it," he hoarsed as he wiggled a screw loose with his thumb. "'m okay."

"Like heck you are!"

"Fine," he insisted. "Really."

"Oh, yeah? Prove it. Sing the alphabet." Amy put one hand on her hip. "Backwards."

Cream wandered up the steps, cradling Cheese in her arms. "Mr. Tails, you ought to take care of your voice. You can lose it if you're not careful."

He looked confused. "But—"

Amy bore up on him, arms crossed behind her back. "Listen here, little brother," she said sweetly, laying a delicate glimpse of steel upon the last word, "there are two ways we can do this. Either you take that mask and put it back on like you're supposed to, and keep it on, or I staple it to your big fat head and we won't have to keep bugging you about it." Batted her eyelashes with a smile, the picture of innocence. "No pressure."

He shook his head and flinched as the plastic cup smacked him softly in the back of the head.

Amy stuck out her tongue at him, making Cream giggle in spite of herself. "Dork."