Darkness

Staying any longer was a mistake. I had to leave. Expand my horizons beyond the narrow confines of my little domain. But first, I had to make amends. Which is why I'm standing outside the clinic with a lavish gift. A bar of chocolate. Sally had been saving it for a special occasion and now was as good an opportunity as any. Doctor Quack stands warily outside. There's a sinking feeling in my stomach. I had come with the full intention of making amends with an impassioned, heartfelt apology. Instead, my nerves failed me. All I could manage was to utter a quick sorry before darting off, leaving him with a small fortune of the barter equivalent.

Sociopath. That's a word that's found its way into my self-reflections more than once, and with increasing intensity. For a time, I entertained the notion, that I was the result of a personality disorder which had robbed Sally of her morality. Of course, it would be such an integral part of her that losing them would make her feel like a completely different person. It could certainly lead to situations like this. Impulsive, reckless decisions, violence at the smallest provocation.

In the end, if only it were so simple. I'm sure I have got a soul of my own. I'm not merely Sally minus something essential. Perhaps, it's simpler to just believe that I'm a sociopath on my own merit. But I don't believe it. More accurately, I don't want to believe it. I still care about others. I still empathize to an extent. Just not in the way she does and… I feel ashamed. I feel regret for the things I've done and what I'm going to do. I don't want to be a bad person… but I don't want to do things exactly the way she would have done things.

I'm struggling to wrap his message around my head. I know for certain I don't want anyone else to know what I'm capable of. If they knew? If they knew half of what I've done since? Monster would be the most pleasant of names that they would call me...It bears some thinking on. I have my regrets. I know neither my decisions nor my judgements are perfect.

Could my self-assessment be just as flawed as my choices? Could my empathy be a vestige of Sally, a veneer of conscience over the sly manipulative creature within? Or am I what I aspire to be: a Mobian like any other in trying circumstances, making mistakes, but trying to do the best she can nonetheless? It could be. I still can't say. I guess it'll be up to you to decide. I don't expect exoneration, but I hope my judgement if … when it comes will at least be fair.

With the sole witness to my psychotic episode placated, all physical evidence of my condition had to go. It may have been paranoia. But my notes were damning evidence. Tossing a few logs into a fireplace, I started a fire. Most of my notes were torn into hundreds of little fragments and committed to the flames. But I wasn't about to throw away the entirety of my previous day's work. I couldn't bear it. Instead, I appraised the pile. The most compromising pages were turned into untraceable ashes. The more innocuous, I took with me.

Fuelled by adrenaline, I slipped out of the village. Heading to a very particular tree. It hunkered low to a windswept hill. As though it wanted nothing more than to be sheltered by tall grasses which waved goldenly. Its branches fanned out wide, separating from each other like the petals of a flower. I think that's why Sally loved it so much. She could shimmy up the trunk of the venerable oak along the rough limbs to reach the crown in under a minute. It was her secret hideout. A place where she could be herself, away from prying eyes: adventurous, playful and childish.

I took one hand and brushed it against the ancient oak. My fingertips gripped into the crevices that ran through the aged bark. Then, I bounded up. Trained eyes ran over every familiar handhold and foothold. Every crack and crevice serve to boost me further and further till I sat on a particularly sturdy bough over thirty feet above the ground. Peering from my perch, the view over-looking the 'Ring Pool' was spectacular as usual: The clear water reflected a strong radiant glow which scintillated and beamed. It's serenity only broken by flashing green dragonflies which flitted over the surface I welcomed the serenity of it all, the buzzing of dragonflies swirling around the fragrant daisy dotted meadow and the welcoming feel of a crisp breeze against the skin.

How I wished I could stay and revel in the moment. But I had a mission to accomplish. I reached into the tree hollow where Sally had carved "Sally and Sonic" complete with cupid, heart and an arrow into the wood. There, she kept her most prized personal possessions and mementoes of immense sentimental value within a keepsakes box. A shrine to her lost childhood. The princess had in her haste to flee the castle, not knowing she would never return had taken very little in the way of personal possessions. It was a fact she agonized over, more than she cared to admit. Curiosity getting the better of me, I extricated each one from its proper place to appraise.

I spared two in particular with more than a cursory glance. One was an almost pristine toy train engine. A gift from Sonic and the other was her favourite doll. Now, Sally didn't like many 'girly' things. This however she kept. It was fashioned of what was once polished wood with fully articulated joints and flexible limbs which only someone with patience, care and great love for the recipient would have bothered to make. It was carved as Sally would say to look like a squirrel or a chipmunk. It even at one point in time had real fur attached although this had long since rotted away, eaten by damp and moths. The wood itself was pitted, cracked and warped in several places. The doll itself had a genuine silk dress torn, stained and faded with age.

I considered committing this to the fire out of spite. It didn't make sense. But somehow, I felt cheated. As though Sally's happy memories were no good substitute for a childhood. Because I didn't get a chance to experience it myself. I was just thinking of casting the worthless doll into dust when I felt a stab of pain in my heart at this barbaric notion. Almost as though Sally herself were begging me not to. As gently as I could. I picked up the worn, ratty old thing. The only physical trace Sally had of her mother.

"Sorry, Mum … Alicia. I'm about to do something foolish and risky with your daughter. I only hope you can forgive me". The doll didn't have any sage advice for me of course. However, much I wished that it did. I carefully replaced each item back to its original place, making room for my surviving notes and precious diary within the tree hollow. Just in case something was to happen to me. Arbitrarily, I drew a mental divide between the two sets of objects. This half belongs to you, Sally. I thought. But this half is mine and I will do my utmost to keep both safe.

That was the easy bit. Next, was perhaps the most foolish decision I've made yet. But I've made up my mind. Sally knew it was dangerous to descend into the heart of Robotnik's lair, Command Central. Equally, she knew it held a veritable treasure trove of technological wonders. Fantastical prototypes, caches of sophisticated weapons, state-of-the-art equipment, wonder-drugs and most importantly of all. The Roboticizer. If there was a chance in all of Mobius for Bunnie to walk again, it would be held there.

Mostly though I was afraid. Robotnik is a maniac. A matryoshka doll of insanity. If my mission was a failure. I knew his retribution would be violent, inescapable and completely impossible to imagine. He, however, is not the only thing that frightens me. I've seen the limited reactions of Sonic after his solo expeditions to Command Central. I know he is brave, gifted and experienced. Even then, behind the veneer of his cocky grin, I know him well enough to see his weariness. His fear.

I knew I was fragile. A single hit from a SWATbot would kill me and their accompanying Buzz Bomber escorts with all their speed wasn't any less dangerous. A single slip-up would be enough and I wasn't arrogant enough to believe I could avoid all the threats that would come my way. So, I retrieved a set of combat armour. It was cumbersome and binding. But it was worthwhile for the chance of surviving at least a glancing hit. The helmet part of the ensemble was more of a nuisance, owing to the need to tuck But this was accomplished with a wide stretchy headband to stop my hair from sneaking out.

My exploration of the armoury was … frightening. I discovered I can't wield the Sword of Acorns. Till now, I had been so used to being capable of everything Sally had been able to that this realization shocked me to my core. It was a birth-right to the royal lineage, imbued with the 'Source of All'. To be sure, the Sword flickers. But is otherwise inert, devoid of the usual magical glow from the 'Source of All'. With that, a whole suite of sword fighting skills from the princess's repertoire gone. Feeling a wave of exhaustion, I re-sheathed the sword, returning it to storage.

I went for the Overlander Laser Rifle instead. It brought back bad memories, but at least it was familiar…

Sally had that recurring dream in that shattered boutique. Only this time, it was silent. No robots and none of her fellow Freedom Fighters. Her Dad was there too, looking much the same as she remembered. He wore a simple circlet crown and a long blue-sleeved uniform complete with gold trimmed epaulettes on his shoulders. Behind him, was draped a long red cape which gave him the illusion of a giant as he stood behind me. He held my hand as we stared down at Tommie. I saw blood and Tommy shivered, as though he were cold.

"He's hurting," King Maximillian said in his slow soothing voice—that very same that had lulled Sally to sleep every night when he had sat on the corner of her bed and read to her from the Grimms or Bullfinch or Hamilton or Swift or any of the other writers that both he and they loved.

"Should we take him to Doctor Quack?" I asked.

Though she had poised similar questions to him before, he displayed no outward hint of frustration. "It'd take a good hour to him there, at least. He's in shock, Bean, and even if he got an injection, his heart couldn't carry it around his body." He shook his head. "You can't just leave him here for Robotnik, either." He materialised a laser rifle off his shoulder, the very same Sally was training within the real world "No, there's just one way." He passed the gun to me.

I took the rifle which seemed comically large in my small hands and stared at it for almost a minute. "Why me, Dad?" I asked sorrowfully.

"Because," he answered, averting his gaze. Still, Sally thought she saw a tear in the corner of his eye, and that frightened her: her real father would never have cried. But the one forged from her imagination and a pinch of fantasy could. "Because," he repeated, "you have to. You have to be able to do this. When something isn't right, when something has gone bad, you've got to put it down. And you my little Bean will have to do it. Someday, you'll understand why."

With slow, faltering steps, I walked toward Tommy "Hush now," King Acorn said. "Just hush now. My little Bean's gonna make the pain go away."

Tommy's laboured breathing filled my ears, overwhelming even the sound of the King. This time, however, I was interrupted by a loud beeping sound as another missile embedded itself into the ground. I stumbled back. The beeping noise from the live munition seemed to grow louder, more insistent. I thrashed and flailed.

Before tumbling out of bed. My cheek struck hard against the rocky floor of Freedom Fighter HQ and the beep of the unexploded ordinance resolved into the mundane beeping of NICOLE. Stunned, I lay on the floor for almost a minute before she finally struggled out of the jumble of sheets and slapped the alarm until it went silent. My nightgown saturated with sweat, I sat on the floor for a moment and listened: the only sounds in the room were my own hard breathing, the thudding of my heart. With every hard heartbeat, my temples throbbed; the day was young, but I already had a headache. It all seemed so real.

Forcing down my panic, I jumped up, ran to my dresser, and yanked open drawers. I pulled on my vest and then searched the floor and found yesterday's jeans. It was spring now, but the limestone caverns of Freedom Fighter HQ; frontline of the struggle against Robotnik was always a few degrees below the surface. I knew this because the cold sometimes made my old injury flare up and I could see the faint outline of breath when I exhaled. So, I rifled through my wardrobe till I came across a woollen sweater which I wore in addition to the usual thinner fair.

I came to the vanity mirror. I looked frightful. My thick auburn hair stuck out around her my face like some kind of insane devil's halo, but I was in no mood to brush. By the dim illumination afforded from the overhead lights, I tugged my blue boots on, forcing my feet into the cold, stiff leather.

Having often woken up at odd hours during the night, Sally was an expert at sneaking quietly enough to avoid awakening her companions. I trod lightly through the warren of tunnels, masking the sound of my approach with the background noises of the spring that flowed over our base of operations. I ducked below the low ceilings, squeezed myself through the familiar narrow hallways toward the opening of a natural cavern that served as our training room.

I ran a hand above the doorframe of the armoury cabinet until my fingertips touched the cold metal of a key. With the key and jittery hands, I opened the gun case. If I had to fight an Overlander, I wanted an Overlander weapon. I loaded in the fusion battery into the laser rifles and inserted it's accompanying weapon accessories into a banker.

Now, fully dressed and equipped. I stepped towards the target range. Geoffrey was there too on the other side practising with his crossbow. It seemed he too had trouble sleeping. He drew his bowstring back, fired a volley of bolts in quick succession with unerring accuracy into his targets and gone over to retrieve them from the practice dummies, rinse and repeat.

Turning my attention away, my hands trembled as I looked down at the target cans laid out in a neat row across the training yard. But in Sally's mind, all she could see was Tommy. His mouth opened and closed. His eyes pleading. But his foam-flecked lips wouldn't produce any coherent words. I gaped, pulled the trigger and seared a burn mark into the soft limestone.

Geoffrey marched over to me, snatching the rifle from my hand and put the safety back on. "Hey," I shouted, "that was just for practice!"

"That was just you missing by a mile. I had to requisition that before you hurt yourself" he warned.

Years ago, he had customized this particular rifle with a large loop lever. So, he spun it, cocked it one-handed before placing it on his shoulder and firing. One of the cans fell to the floor with a faint plink. He laughed. "You know, I used to watch the old cowboy shows. So, at the academy, we practised shooting from the hip like they did." he returned the rifle out to me. "It seems fine to me, something else on your mind today?"

I sighed and wondered if I should just broach the issue to my beau and settled upon taking the direct approach "I've had that dream, about Tommy again."

She had told nobody of her fears save Bunnie and Geoffrey. Bunnie listened to the story with rapt attention. Geoffrey had called it dribble but had listened anyway. Telling them eased the nightmares: when Sally closed her eyes, Tommy still whimpered in desperation and pain, but he was quieter now.

"Imagine two lines," Geoffrey said calmly, "running from each ear to opposite eye, forming an 'X.' You shoot straight at the centre of that 'X,' and he'll go suddenly, just like that. After you do it, touch the eye. It's the most sensitive part. If there's anything left in him. He'll feel it"

I cocked the gun and placed it on my shoulder. "Hurry up now, Sally," he said. "He's hurtin'." I saw Tommy once again. He looked right at me, and he looked strangely calm. I swallowed once more, squeezed the trigger and the can fell to the floor with a loud plink…

Contrary to what Robotnik believed, breaching Robotropolis was far from insurmountable. Unfortunately, without NICOLE to accurately predict patrols, an above ground was out of the question. This left the underground route. Meaning, I needed someone who knew the subway system well. I turned to Nack the Weasel and Sonic, of course, was essential for running distractions.

Buzz Bombers were the main threat when leaving the relative safety of Knothole. So, to mitigate the risk we scattered an enormous number of decoy balloons with pre-recorded radio broadcasts in a wide radius. Each balloon carried power cells lasting several hours. Although a more reasonable lifespan was about twenty minutes. Which was approximately how long the first buzz bombers to arrive and saturate the target area with missiles. With the skies temporary shorn of patrols, it was time to make a move. Sonic as usual scouted ahead. It was rare to encounter any resistance with him at our side. Nonetheless, I kept my weapon handy while Nack wielded his, a hunting rifle.

It was quiet at first. But soon, I saw evidence of his handiwork. Dozens of desiccated SWATbots littered the narrow forest paths, marking the way to the blue speedster like a trail of breadcrumbs.

Eventually, we caught sight of the hedgehog himself. With a merry laugh, Sonic weaved around an accosting SWATbot. The towering droid attempting without success to match his swifter, nimbler opponent, only for its metal ankles to become entangled. With a harsh grating metal-on-metal noise, its owner was brought crashing heavily to the ground. Just in time to inadvertently trip up the next SWATbot, as it made a lunging attempt to take the fleet-footed Freedom Fighter from behind.

Leaving his intertwined assailants to eat his dust Sonic turned and rocketed directly into the heart of the oncoming robotic maelstrom. His teeth clenched into a fierce grin, his eyes retaining that bright and seemingly interminable spark of humour. It was the face of a hedgehog staring death in the face, daring it to give him it's very best shot.

In a matter of moments, Sonic stood atop a pile of his fallen foes with a smug look on his face. "Looking good Sal. Didn't even break a sweat." Sonic remarked while admiring his handiwork. "Wait missed one" the speedster went into his trademark spin dash into a damaged SWATbot attempting to crawl on a stump of an arm. "Alert. Priority one. Capture the hedgehog" the automated message gurgled from the damaged vocoder before it was literally bisected in half.

Struggling to catch my breath, I shook my head. "We got lucky, these were older models badly in need of maintenance."

"Aww Sal, no need for you to be such a sourpuss" Sonic grinned with his trademark smirk. I growled, my face morphing into a scowl at the hedgehog's snipe.

Sometimes, we hid rather than destroying patrols with impunity, much to Sonic's chagrin. A random pattern of destruction combined with constant backtracking was the best way to elude search patrols. It was a necessary process, but one that added many hours to our journey.

As we travelled further in the direction of Robotropolis, the remains of the forest that was once so alive chilled me to the bone. Trees that had sheltered so many with their spreading canopy of green and provided so much were now reduced to lifeless sticks of charcoal. No more vibrant than old lamp posts.

The exertion was begging to catch up, wearing heavy body armour and having an equally heavy weapon slung over my shoulder certainly didn't help. Having been on my feet for the better part of the day and not getting a wink of sleep from the night before, I was fading in and out of consciousness. Finally, after diving down in what had once been a well-manicured olive grove to dodge a swarm of surveillance orbs I managed to pass out from sheer exhaustion. When I came to, I discovered Sonic had scooped me up and was running with me. Even being thoughtful enough to tuck my face into the crook of his shoulder to prevent wind shear from whipping into my face.

I had often thought about this event. Sally would have found it exhilarating. Me? I found it terrifying. Sonic was unstoppable. If he had wanted to act against me there was little that could be done to stop him. No retribution could be enacted against him. Sally had been trained in hand-to-hand combat and marksmanship. Both would be virtually useless against the blue speedster. It was frightening on the face of it, knowing you were completely at the mercy of another. The entire event was horrendously complex, Sonic was attractive to Sally's eyes. To her, he was a perfectly good and kind person she knew. But all the same, I knew there was an extreme imbalance in power between the two of us.

Of course, all that was academic. What I actually did was squeal and sock Sonic in the jaw as I came to. To his credit, he didn't drop me. Instead, he jerked in surprise. Slowing to a stop before rubbing his jaw more in surprise than pain. "What was that for?" he asked.

"Sorry, thought you were a SWATbot for a moment" I apologized.

"Who can mistake this mug for a badnik" Sonic smirked. "Say, Sal, you seem really out of it," Sonic remarked. I frowned, Sally might have found this endearing or cute. To me? He was irksome.

"Look, I spent all night at the clinic keeping watch over Bunnie. Didn't really get a wink of sleep." I lied.

"Say, what happened to her?" he quizzed.

"I don't want to talk about it" I muttered lackadaisically.

"Hmm, sounds like bad news. I trust the good doc. If there's a way he can fix Bunnie up. He'll find it. Alright, Sal, we're here just like you wanted. Presenting Robotropolis home of the endangered species of his royal flabbiness Robotnik" Sonic announced in a faux television presenter voice.

"We'll be endangered too if you keep opening your big mouth" I complained.

"Sheesh Sal, what happened to you. You used to be way past cool." I growled taking a cheap swing at the hedgehog who instantly sidestepped, causing me to stumble. I let out a howl of frustration, wanting so badly to yell at the hedgehog for being so insufferable and childish.

Fortunately, Nack stepped in "As funny as it is to watch you two turtle doves fight it out. Don't you have something more important to do?"

"Yeah… yeah, we do Princess" Sonic smirked in contempt.

As much as I wanted to, I didn't take the bait … this time. Instead, I looked up.

In my short nap, Sonic had taken me up to the outskirts of Robotropolis. Where what should have been the symbolic heart of the Acorn Kingdom: full of screaming children with their parents and elderly couples talking about the Great War was gone. Replaced instead by enormous tower blocks blackened with soot and tall smokestacks belching thick columns of noxious fumes. While rising high above the pus-yellow smog, was a towering spire that dominated the skyline, Command Central. Like a vulture's nest, the dictator's lair towered over the city where the ghosts of a lost Kingdom lurked. Millions of Robians slaving away on the dictator's ghastly projects.

Looking around, the surrounding was a great dumping zone. Completely devoid of tree cover of any kind and virtually all life, save the most resilient rats or cockroaches. It resembled a piece of surrealist artwork. Almost every yard was covered in dangerously stacked towers of junk by slave armies of Robians whom could be seen in the distance hauling more refuse into the expanse. Upon closer inspection, it wasn't all junk either. Buried within the mishmash were useful parts that would have made Rotor drool with envy: Hover Swat units that had flown their last, dull and lifeless surveillance orbs and more disturbingly; broken remains of Robians who hadn't survived the passage of time.

At the far end of a field of smashed computer screens and unidentifiable circuit boards was our ticket in; a service subway tunnel almost hidden by the piled-up debris.

We trudged through mounds of silicon, crunching plastic under-foot. All while keeping our eyes peeled for hidden robots within the landscape. Occasionally, we ducked behind unstable junk piles to remain hidden from the distant Robians busy toiling away. Eventually, we crested over a hill of junk to the hidden service tunnel entrance. Already, a decade without maintenance was starting to show its ill-effects. A solitary tree root from a long-dead tree was starting to push through the flimsy poured concrete. The entrance was damp, with hints of moss and lichen growing near the entrance.

Nack volunteered to be the first. His short trip from the hill crest of junk to the tunnel entrance being one of the longer walks I had ever witnessed. He shone a light through the gaping maw of the tunnel entrance. If there were any of Robotnik's minions hiding inside, they would be drawn to the light like moths to the flame. Ready to be snuffed out by the anticipating hedgehog - hopefully.

"It's clean, mates" Nack announced in his thick Downunda accent. I was next. Sonic stood back, ready to whisk the both of us out. My feeble torchlight did little to peel back the gloomy darkness. The pale, flickering light only revealed a deep rock tunnel with hints of leaf mould and pale-yellow saplings eking out a bleak existence within the nooks and crannies of the dilapidated tunnel. If there was an end, my light failed to illuminate. Staring into the darkness, I half-dreaded the moment when I would pass through the arch into the claustrophobic dank, river-smelling darkness. With a nervous swallow, I nodded to Nack motioning for him to lead the way.

Without him, I would have no maps, no guides, no signs and no idea of where I was going. If something happened to him down there, Sonic and I would be lost in the darkness. Eventually, our lights would go out one by one until nothing was left. Behind me and out the tunnel was the Great Forest, warmth, and life. Down here there was only cold and darkness. I could turn back. I could abort the mission, returning to Knothole where it was safe and comfortable. Abandoning Bunnie to her fate ... I had no choice. Taking a deep breath, I mustered all of my courage and descended into the tunnel.

We stepped into pitch darkness slowly, giving an opportunity for our eyes to adjust. Using torchlights with red tape attached to see our way forward and to avoid blinding our night vision. Fortunately, our luck held out. There were no tell-tale whirs and whines from Robotnik's minions. My sensitive ears picked up nothing but the steady drip of rainwater trickling down from the city above and the crunching of gravel beneath our feet. Sonic grumbled as neither of us possessed particularly good night vision, making his incredible speed and reflexes much less useful. Fortunately, Nack was nocturnal and used to working under these sorts of conditions.

Inside the tunnel was cool and humid. In sharp contrast to the oppressive heat radiating from the city itself. The ground was bumpy and strewn with rocks from a lack of maintenance, making passage slow and forcing us to focus on taking one step at a time. Contrary to what my imagination had led me to expect, there was no spooky wind and no rocks falling. Just the sound of our breathing and the occasional splashes as we stepped into freezing-cold puddles of still brackish water, thick as molasses.

How far had we gone? A mile? Two? I couldn't tell. My light flashed at something ahead. My hopes surged. Had we arrived at the rendezvous? My dim light fell upon a massive metro security door which had formed a perfect seal against the tunnel ahead. It had been there for a long time judging from the curtain of cobwebs draped against it like a grotesque curtain. As I approached, my nose was assaulted by a terrible smell which only grew as I approached. Unconsciously, I reached for the door. It felt cold. Cold as a tomb. I withdrew my hand quickly. Brackish water was trickling out through a leak. I didn't need to be an expert to know there was something dead, rotting and floating behind those doors.

"Don't eulogize them," Nack said dispiritedly.

"Sorry?"

"You have that look. Like maybe you lost someone and I don't think brooding is healthy" he responded.

"No that's not it" I lied, secretly impressed at Nack's night vision "It's just that. I never actually rode on the subway before all this went down. And… I really would like to someday."

"Ah, that's good too, hoping for a brighter future. Just be careful what you wish for, princess. Especially once you've experienced the morning rush hour." Nack let out a throaty laugh. I didn't smile. I filed the memory away. One more in an endless litany of crimes Robotnik will answer for. "I must've made a wrong turn. All these additions made by survivors makes navigation difficult."

"Survivors?" I asked incredulously.

"During Robotnik's coup, the underground lasted for some time. It's hard to keep track of all the changes they made. But we'll backtrack and get on our way" Nack shook his head. "I lived here for a time with my unit. We're able to hold them. But Robotnik flooded the place and unleashed his bots. I left early on. Those that stayed? Done and gone." Nack's voice broke.

"I'm sorry" I mumbled.

"Don't be. I survived while better people didn't - Do you think that makes me a coward?" Nack asked.

I shook my head "It's pragmatism that's what it is" Here and there I could see evidence of fighting from years ago. Although much was worn away through the relentless passage of time. Here and there, my pale torchlight could catch glimpses of rusting robot parts "You gave them hell, didn't you?" I asked.

"Yes, Ma'am."

"Good, never stop making him pay."

"Yes, Ma'am."

"This place gives me the creeps Sal. Ya need to stop moping around and get on out of here before more badniks show up" Sonic complained. I couldn't agree more with the hedgehog's sentiment. Turning away from the security door, I followed my guide, backtracking our way through the labyrinth of dark winding passages.

"A few words of encouragement for this old soldier; your highness?" Nack asked.

"Hmm." I continued walking. "I don't know if this is any help to you, but I often had to do things I didn't feel ready for. So, I learned two tricks. Want to hear them?"

"Let's hear it."

"Okay. The first is, learn to improvise. More than once, I didn't have a clue what to do, but I acted like I did and came up with something. It usually worked. When faced with a monstrous metallic replica of Sonic we defeated it by outrunning its power cable. When Dulcy kept unconsciously trying to fly to Dragon's cairn to complete her rite of passage we built one just like it in Knothole which did the trick."

"You actually did all that?"

"We played for keeps. That brings me to my second trick."

He swallowed. "And that is—?"

"Never let them see you bleed. When you're scared to death, that's exactly the time to hold your ground, keep calm, and assess your advantages.

"I would much prefer to hold my ground at home—" Nack breathed.

"That's what it was always about. Home. We need to fight to keep ours."

According to Nack, We were headed to a major rail line in the central Robotropolis. Robotnik generally only kept a handful of major rail lines running between his factories. The rest of the system, no longer relevant to his war machine was left to the elements.

Overhead, the industrial noises of Robotropolis grew more audible, seeming to echo off all the walls at once. Up ahead, I could hear the sound of robots. Although ascertaining where from was difficult given the tendency for the acoustics in the tunnels to bounce sounds in all directions.

From a dozen feet away, Nack clicked. Instantaneously, we dropped to the ground. Moments later, a bright glaring headlamp lit up the tunnel. I squeezed my eyes shut, blinking rapidly in a vain attempt to filter out the glare as Moto Bugs, an obsolete model of badnik drove by at high speed.

It was unusual for Robotnik to continue using such archaic designs, but he was loathed to let anything go to waste. Here it seemed, they found their niche guarding the catacombs of Robotropolis. Occasionally, their bright flood lamps illuminated scores of Robians who were busy working on expanding a tunnel ahead. A constant stream emerged from the unfinished tunnel with a wide complement of tools. It was only thanks to Nack's natural night vision and hyper-keen senses that we had a precious few seconds of notice. We dared not make a move as the robots came close enough to touch. One false move and the entire Robotropolis could come crashing down around our heads. I held my breath as their searchlights washed over our position. Nack and I took careful aim at the leading bot. Luckily, there was plenty to hide behind and the patrol passed us over in their predictable search pattern. Getting to our feet, we moved slowly and ducked between shadows the entire way.

During our passage, we had plenty of opportunities to observe the near zombie-like Robians slaving away. All throughout their metal bodies were clear signs of neglect, pit marks, dings and dents. Mostly though, I remembered thinking to myself how I would rather die than suffer their fate, working till my limbs gave way on one of Robotnik's megalithic projects.

"Don't eulogies them" I whispered under batted breath to calm my jittery nerves. Then, I saw it. A runt of a Robian smaller than the rest. I whimpered involuntarily at the sight and stifled back a wave of tears. Mercifully, the searchlight sweeps over the former beige-coloured rabbit. The rest of the journey passed in silence as we snuck past the steady stream of Robians, towards a makeshift tunnel which Nack assured us would be there. It was nerve-wracking darting across the last few meters of exposed ground with naught but darkness to mask our passage.

We would be going in virtually blind given we'd switched off our flashlights a while ago. Timing our passage. Nack would go first. Then me, followed by Sonic. Nack disappeared into the darkness. If the passage wasn't there when Nack said it was …

Click.

I got down onto my hands and knees feeling my way forward. It was small. This clearly wasn't part of the original layout. But rather, a later addition by survivors. I unslung my rifle, sucked my gut in and squeezed my way through the narrow crawl space. Here, there weren't any of Robotnik's minions. But there were dangers nonetheless. The air was foul from chemical runoff whose fumes had built-up in the poor ventilation. My eyes watered and my throat stung. I regretted not bringing a gas mask.

At long last, we arrived at a dingy wine cellar. In its day, it must have held the most exclusive vintages of Mobius within its wooden racks, now left buck bare. There were brackets for candles every few feet, but it had been so long since their use that there was no residual wax left on them. The air within was slightly musty but the dim light trickling from the holes in the ceilings above revealed no hint of water. As far as meeting places went, Sir Charles could have done far worse. Standing there in the far corner, the Robian himself stood, waiting patiently.