PoC: PenFullofChaos819 owns neither Sega nor Archie copyright-shielded characters used hereafter! So here comes a continuation of the last TailsxFiona chapter. Guess it's odd to be adding to this 'younger' fic when any older story would have likely been easier.
Metal: There, there now. You know the saying: Perfection has no age, even with a few 'gaps' to cross. So…who's up for a game of cradles and robbers?
Silver: Let me guess: You saw the TailsxFiona part and said "Ewwie! Creepy underage pairing! Kill, kill, KILL!" without even checking the fic out, didn't you? I bet there's no actual pairing here or anywhere else south of that fat head of yours. Our author would never do something like that, especially not in a T-rated fic. Right, Pen?
PoC: Wah? Huh? Oh uh…me? Well I…ahem, I-I may have used some slang, and made some pharmaceutical references. And…uh…well nothing else TOO crazy, pairing-wise, for a heavy-set plot. It's…no cause for concern… Yeah…*chugs a gallon of water*
Metal: Then I suppose varying degrees of biological maturity are "no cause for concern" either?
Silver: Please, like you're one to talk! Isn't your little partnership in Rise like a lawnmower chasing an iPhone?
Metal: Invalid correlation, though I do delight in turning little weed-heads like you into mulch. Not to mention that I always catch the 'cats' I chase…
Silver: Yeah? Well at least the 'greener side' of MY fence grows round fruit where it counts!
Metal: As a general rule: The fruitier the man, the woodier his audience. You can go barking up that tree if you like, but mind your owies and yaoi's on the way up.
PoC: *Spits* Ugh! God Almight-would you two kindly take your garden-variety innuendos elsewhere before I soil myself? Gugh…but for the record, this chapter contains very harsh language and other material, as mentioned above, that may make this more M-rated in some ways. No Lemon or Lime is present, but you have been warned.
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Suture
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At the sound of my alarm, I awoke, silently mulling over yesterday's fiasco like it had just been a bad dream. It wasn't until I kicked the covers off and tumbled out of bed that realization hit me. No…quite literally, I bashed my head on the side of my desk while trying to take a clumsy step up.
Rubbing away the physical pain did nothing to absolve the permanent mark left by last night's ordeal. If anything, it made those recent memories more vivid, more real than I would've ever wanted them to be. Even my palms had started to regain their dampness as I recalled further details about my 'guest': Her evasive eyes, her smug smirk, her s…noxious scent, Lord…everything about that woman made my fur stand on end. Absurd, why should I care anyway? What a waste of time it was fretting over some random girl I barely knew anymore. I had more important matters on my agenda today…
Hmm, yes well that's a swell thought, Miles, except for the fact that you're already THREE HOURS LATE FOR CLASS!
Unbelievable, how did I mess up my schedule, my PERFECT schedule? There was not a single semester prior to this where I had missed even one day, not even when I had legitimate excuse or three. I had come to depend on that OCD to keep my scattered attention span in check. Nothing but NOTHING had EVER messed with my academic habits before, yet today I just up and decided to drop the ball? All because…of her?
I swore the arteries bracketing my neck were about to burst in frustration. That dang Fiona…such a pain in the tails, that's what she was. She couldn't have just gone on with her merry old life while leaving mine well enough alone, could she? No, instead she felt like romping on in and messing up everything like she always did! And gee, last I checked she was 'still' about five years my senior! How nuts could you get? A creeper like that should mean nothing to me, absolutely nothing at all…
Thinking that way would've be easy, or at least easier, if it hadn't been for Fiona's final, dejected comments about herself. Factually, she was a big-time fake and sap when she wanted something to go her way, but she was also never one to admit defeat, not even as a last ditch effort to appeal to someone. Sure, there was a first time for everything, but that made me worry too. Yes it's true, she could've just been trying to get under my skin, but maybe…just maybe, she was…subliminally asking for help? And…by not caring at all, did I unintentionally make those…her last, last words?
With that image fresh in my mind, I felt my arms go stiff and my gag reflexes kick in. I had seen death all the time growing up, especially during the advent of Eggman's nature-consuming technology. I had smashed robots aplenty, never looking back to see if the creatures held captive within them ever made it out alive. Though, I had to admit…it was lot different when that person's life is placed directly on your shoulders. True, I couldn't prove, much less justify anything that came out of that vixen's mouth, but…the possibility was excuse enough for me to make my next, rash move.
After packing up a light, as the humans called it, hammerspace worth of essentials, I was ready to make use of this otherwise waste of a day, by going out and looking for someone of like description. This move didn't make much sense…or any sense it all if I let my rational side get a word in edgewise. To this, I went on supplying myself with the same sappy hunk of "I've got to help her before its too late" idealism. Refreshingly brainwashing as that banal statement was, it, again, didn't really settle right in my gut. I suppose I…never had developed a taste for convenient excuses…
Excuse or whatever else, nothing stopped me from locking my door up and setting out for the city (with my connections, I'd find her in no time flat). That whole 'having a clear purpose and conscience' crap could be damned at this point. It was enough to say that I had an unresolved sickness to attend to, and only Fiona had the cure.
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*Downtown Station Square*
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A swift boot to the face: The surest medicine for any man trying to get ideas. I say it serves him right for messing with me, the one and only, Fiona Fox.
Hmph, so much trouble all over one worthless bum. Just as well, I caught that sick turd taking unwelcome glances my way. Damn right I was more than happy lay down a woman's touch on his shriveled-up mug. Probably more action than that slob deserved, but I didn't care. My day was already ending badly enough, so…I actually welcomed the chance to vent. There's nothing quite like squeezing a man's ego dry after taking down a few hard shots. Now if only I could've had this attitude with him two years ago… Maybe...maybe then he wouldn't have…
Oh hell, who was I kidding? That chaser was just waiting to dump me for the next hot tail he met. And even though I'm only pushing towards my mid-twenties, stress and time behind bars had no doubt done a number on my natural 'charm'. Sure, I could've probably afforded some makeovers with all the cash I was making selling Scourge's personal 'Anarchy' brand of homebrewed psychedelics (we used the actual Beryl for the job, I kid you not). Thinking about it now, I should've been disgusted when he started using such powerful heirlooms for something as trite as street-marketing. What happened to the big jobs, heists and mercenary work that made our lifestyle so appealing? I thought when I fell for the opposite of that blue idealist, Sonic; I'd be getting a high-ranking crime lord of a man. Not some washed up coward with anger issues.
Now here, a pair of long years after our last falling out, I find myself completely broke from extended periods of bar-hopping and depression. Hmm…feels weird to admit that, even to myself, I've lied about how all-well-and-good this life has been. Even so, I remained cool about it. A girl's always got to have an ace or two up her sleeve. That's why I had the sense to seek out some 'old connections' of mine. Being cut from an especially 'bleeding-heart' cloth, I could've sworn that one of those do-gooders would have had some convenient attack of conscience at the mere sight of little ol' me.
Too bad…life's never that simple, but I was sure, so dang sure of myself when I started out.
Initially, I was pretty certain Sonic wouldn't hear me out, at least not without a little 'friendly' intervention first, so I fixated on the next most logical target: Little precious fox-boy himself, Miles "Tails" Prower. Getting close to him was simple: Since he and Sonic had that laughably 'unbreakable bond' to exploit, I took measures and swiped the kingpin hedgehog's cell (what a peach THAT job was). Afterwards, I quickly staged a meeting with the naïve, but admittedly cute, fox kid for some…mildly suggestive persuasion. Yes, I was aware that he wouldn't be a helpless brat this time 'round, but I had a hunch that age would only lessen his ability to resist me.
Heh, could I have been more wrong or what? I guess I really must look like dumpster refuse these days or else Tails has grown one hell of an ego since we last met. At first, I thought his stubbornness was some misguided sense of faithfulness to a special someone. Looking back on it, he made no mention of an 'other' in his life. So…unless he was simply restraining personal information for safety sake, I really had been taken down a notch by this new Tails.
Well, if maturity was the cause, I'd say he earned my respect. Either way, I really wasn't expecting him to see through me so easily. In one short conversation, he had managed to completely blow my cover while delivering some deep-cutting 'advice'. How rich…coming from me. Just one look at the places I call 'hangouts' and anyone know that words mean about as much to me as a puddle of rat piss means to my boot. Call me whatever the hell you want, it wouldn't change me or my mind. You can't run with Scourge and his gang for long without that kind of resolve.
Sheesh, yet one stab from that little yellow-furred, blue-eyed fox left me bleeding like a stuck hog.
Ugh…I can't believe how weak I sounded; so frail and fragile in the face of that white-collar nerd! And if that didn't beat all, I also blew my chances of getting back into Sonic's good graces in the process. I had officially committed the mother of all screw-ups and now, for the first time in years, I was completely without options. Oh yeah, did I say any good girl has an ace or two up her sleeve? Well, in my case I had one small opportunity of getting my life back. I guess…I could scrape by well enough on my own, but…it never hurt to have that sense of belong-
Pfft! What? Now that was a sick joke! After all the two-timing schemes I've pulled on everyone, family, friends, potential lovers, who on Mobius could possibly give ME a sense of belonging? Crock, that's what it was, total crock. I only needed two things in this life: Money and myself. Everything else was as sentimental as it was secondary. If I wanted company, I'd cash in and join the local mortuary. Yup, at least folks there can have themselves a good old-fashioned reunion and no one complains about the smell.
On that morbid note, I worked my way over to my dingy apartment office. It place hed a cheap and simple set-up, but that's pretty much how I liked it. Some might guess that the landlord would be some greedy perv like you see in the movies; you know…the type that tries snaring the struggling resident chick into some 'alternate payment methods'. Lucky for me, the owner is actually a generally sweet old badger, albeit with a frightening temper and trigger finger for would-be thugs. Granted I never saw him actually unload on anyone, but the thought alone kept me from poking at his bad side.
"Rough day at work, Miss Fox?" I heard the old guy ask with one of those highly inquisitive, but well-meaning tones. Outside of a precious few exceptions, I usually had no qualms about lying my bow off to any possible scrutinizers. This…was one of those exceptions, though I still found it in me to put on a falsely guilty grin while nodding. I really couldn't tell whether he caught on to my BS or not; I was only glad that he didn't stop me with any further inquires as he provided me with my mail (the guy had a crazy protective policy on personal property). On my way out, I vaguely thought I heard him direct a question my way, but that's when my foul temper emerged, prompting me to ignore him. That's right, "The devil made me do it" excuse, one of my favorites.
So after passing, or ignoring, the local neighborly element, I hastily shoved my key into the door lock. Something about this place, well-monitored or not, always gave me the chills. I could feel eyes watching me, studying me for any hint of weakness. Whether anyone sees it or not, it can't be denied that we women have it tough. I pity the shy innocent types that occasionally stray into this side of town. Hell, I had rolled my share of bozos more times than I can count, and STILL I was scared of being caught out in the open. At least I'd be safe…er once I got this beat-up, useless old key to work…
On…a lock that looked…tampered with?
A thin film of sweat formed on my bushy brow when I finally figured it out. The lock wasn't being stubborn; it was already unlocked before I got here. Worse yet, the job looked clean, professional; there were barely any signs of forced entry. I guess the con inside expected me to just waltz on in without expecting a thing. Too bad for them, I used to live for this stuff.
However, there were a few problems to work out: If I called the cops I'd be attracting a lot of unwanted attention, and I didn't want to get anyone innocent involved. Okay, cutesy excuses aside; I liked taking care of my own issues. For sure, I wouldn't be shocked to find Scourge, or God, maybe that Tails imposter (the evil guy was like the real fox, but without any of Tails' charm or gentleness) ready to punish me for ditching the gang. I can't deny shaking in my boots while I imagined the sorts of things they had in store for me. Even a masochist couldn't find anything remotely enjoyable about their…'attention'.
Pushing open the door cautiously, I then gave the creaky thing a harsh shove at the last second, trying to make the illusion of a careless entry…but no response. I took a quick glance inside, but it was too dark to see. Someone had drawn the curtains and taken extra measures to cut out as much light as possible. It screamed 'trap', this whole messed up scene did. So why was I so adamant about going in? Well for one, if this was all in my head, then I'd be leaving behind some…personal property I'd rather not have the authorities confiscate. And second, this was MY place, dammit! I wasn't going to be chased out without a fight.
That's how tough I talked…but all the talk in the world didn't calm me as I stepped into the darkness. Had I gotten to my stash before all this, I could've just slipped into my tattered chair, snapped open a few caplets of sugarcoated release, and slept my remaining hours away in peace.
Now there'd be pain, and lots of it to accompany me on my way down. How precious of me, showing cowardice at this point. Killing that side of me for now, I heard the door behind me slam shut. I didn't try to run, I didn't try to hide. Instead I stood still, waiting quietly in the shadows for my aggressor to strike. It was then that I heard, much to my disgust, his voice casually say "I had a feeling you'd come a tad sooner. Looks like my sources and calculations were off by a full hour and a half. But then…you've always been a bit unpredictable."
Bastard, every bit the smug prick he always was! In my heart of hearts, I would've begged for it to be anyone else, even Scourge, but not him; not that depraved little psycho that liked 'experimenting' on his victims before finishing them. As my bad luck would have it, this creep was also as strong as he was scientific. Getting out of this mess was going to take some quick thinking and acting…or else.
A slight shuffling was all it took to put me on high alert. I made no sudden movement. I gave no hint that I had even noticed him. My restraint was rewarded as I heard the cocky punk finally close in. The fur on my spine went ridged when I could almost feel his oily presence. Prepared for the worst, I stopped my body from shaking, took one last deep breath for encouragement, and…
Sank to my knees in one clumsy turn; having been stunned by the sound of…perfectly sane laughter?
Unable to recover from my misstep, the lights around me flicked on one by one, until I could see who the real culprit was: Not 'Miles' but the real Miles Prower, with a small, slightly devious, grin on his face. Here I was, humiliated and beaten at my own game, but none other than that once comfy-lived crybaby of a fox. I must've looked like a priceless fool, crumpled up on the ground with a gaping mouth and bugled eyes. Expecting him to laugh again, I shot daggers at the two-tailed twit, as if to say "Go ahead, I freaking dare you."
Expecting this to go one of two ways, I was shocked by his actual reaction. He didn't crack up, or get all nice and understanding (you can't be sympathetic without sounding 'pathetic' in my book); instead his small grin turned into sharp glare while he forcefully pulled me to my feet. Put off by his moxie already, I didn't expect to get practically shoved up against a wall with Miles still drilling through me with his crystal blue eyes. On impulse, I snarled a little at his crudeness, only to be put down by a far more threatening growl of his. I don't what made him snap, but this Tails was NOT modest kid I remembered.
Seeing that he'd gotten my attention, I heard him say "Alright, Fiona, let's settle this. Right here, right now." He capped his demands off with clenched teeth for some added emphasis. Still, past his anger and obvious seriousness, I was totally lost. Settle what? What debt or deal did we have going that I wasn't aware of? I didn't think our little talk had gotten anywhere either, so what the heck was he talking about?
Not trying to play coy, I shook my head in gritty puzzlement and spat back "What's your deal, kid? I haven't done squat to you or your little friends, so why don't you back off!" I guess pissing on him wasn't the brightest move, considering I got another shove for my trouble. The elbowroom Miles left between us was also getting uncomfortably narrower. If foxy was going to go postal on me for whatever reason, I didn't have a good chance of fighting back with this lack of space. So…I caved in on my defensive strategy of 'shutting up 'til they open up'.
It took a second, but he did ease up after some extensive glaring. Eventually, his temper cooled enough for him to say "Fiona, tell me something: Did you think I'd just let you slink off after that crap you pulled yesterday?"
Oh so that's what this was about… No wait, I still didn't get it. Did I zone out, or had I done something really loony last night? Let's see if I can't figure this out… For starters, I pretended to be Sonic in a text. Then I broke into his place, but didn't take anything, well…nothing he'd miss anyways. Mm…nope, I couldn't figure it out. The only other thing I did was taunt him with a little…playful banter as his type would call it. Heh, yeah I admit it was fun to see him get all flustered and nervous, just like old…times…?
…
…oh…shit.
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To be Concluded
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So…on that foul note, I'll close out. As the above statement implies, this series will be ended next chapter (effectively making this a three-shot of sorts).