You wassup mi amigos! I decided to continue this little tale, with a even longer chapter! I think i will write more but im not sure, cause I have like three other big stpries im working on.
I really like where this is going, i think Miles will make a good bad guy.
I do not own sonic characters and all that jazz, SEGA does.
Vengeance is just:
Justly we rid the earth of human fiends
Who carry hell for pattern in their souls.
But in high vengeance there is noble scorn:
It tortures not the torturer, nor gives
Iniquitous payment for iniquity.
The great avenging angel does not crawl
To kill the serpent with a mimic fang;
He stands erect, with sword of keenest edge
That slays like lightning.
~GEORGE ELIOT, The Spanish Gypsy
-4 years later-
A much older miles, squats on the sill of a window, starring at figure on the inside. Asleep, no one in the house knew he was there, but they would know by morning. Miles opened up he window softly, and cat walked into the room. He walked to the edge of the bed and looked down at it's sleeping owner. His enemy, the bully slept, face up, breathing through his mouth.
Miles reached into his bag and pulled out a pre-wet rag. He had already made two similar stops, and he would be done after this. He folded the rag neatly and reached to put it over the bully's face.
"Just in, three teens have been found hanging from street lamps in the town center. None are in critical condition, though all have been hospitalized for minor injuries or fractures."
The camera switches to a scene of the crime where a once imposing bully has been reduced to tears. His shouts reveal his broken front tooth.
"The story behind the attack seems to be unprovoked, and without just cause, but authorities say, whoever did this, spent days planning it. If you have a lead or saw this crime take place, please alert authorities immediately, there are currently no suspects in the case, so all or any help is appreciated. While it is still unknown who could have done this police are conducting a full investigation, and are quite sure they will find the attacker soon."
"That's it for today folks, thank you for joining us today, and tune in tomorrow for another day of West Island News."
As the screen in the window of the shop went dark, Miles starred and the now dark monitor in front of him. He felt happy, happier than he had ever felt in a long time, but years of pain and sadness, had made it hard for the fox to smile. So despite maintaining a blank expression, Miles knew one thing, the sight of his long attacker crying sent a feeling of warmth and happiness through him. It felt good to hurt those three boys.
Really good...
While many people at this time, might be thinking about the possibility of being caught, and the fear of prison, the long broken Miles, have seen nothing but pain and rejection, was planning.
Miles walked away from the window, and began quickly walking down the street. He walked quickly and quietly, not drawing any attention to himself. He turned at a slightly dark alley and quickly walked down some steps. He passed a group of men, who jeered and called at him, but he quickly walked past, practically running. He exited the alley, in front of a large cluster of run down and broken houses.
He took a left and walked towards a especially run down and small house at the end. He pushed the door in and slammed it behind him, placing a large piece of wood on the door jam. After reaching a age of 12, Miles was able to procure a low paying job at the city dump, sorting out the trash.
This gave him the small amount of money necessary to buy the hovel from the dying previous resident. Miles reached up to a shelf and grabbed a dirty broken mug. He filled it up with some water walked to the far side of his small abode.
He put the water aside and felt around on the ground, smiling as he felt the small handle under the rug. He pulled it up, revealing a small broken later, he had fixed into the wall of dirt it leaned up against. He stepped down, careful not to spill his water. When he reached the bottom, he surveyed the room before him.
Soon after buying the house, he had dug out a "lab" underneath. Little more than a circular room made of dirt with support beams snaking across the ceiling, it was here he conducted all of his experiments. Despite never having a formal education, Miles was, by far, above the level of genius, and the availability of electronics and parts at the dump allowed him to create fantastic devices.
Despite this, Miles had only one thing on his mind at the moment. He sat down at a rickety desk and booted up a small computer he was able to repair. Already opened were files on the desktop, were three files, containing information of the three boys he had extracted his revenge on, schematics, and a planner.
He closed all unnecessary applications, and booted up a homemade program. He stood up from the desk and went to the raised platform at the center of the room. Upon it was his greatest creation yet.
Constructed from a variety of different scraps and sheet metal, the large and bulky machine had been the focus of Miles' life for the last four months, and was nearly complete. He jammed a chord into the main hard drive of the device and plugged the other end into his computer. He ran a diagnostics program and upon seeing two errors, and went and tinkered with the device.
He ran the scan one more time and upon seeing it come back as complete sat back with his mug of coffee and looked at his pride and joy.
"They spat at me, they laughed at me, they pointed at me... but soon I will have made my point, and they will be at my feet groveling." He whispered to no one in particular. he starred at the machine in front of him, pondering something to himself, nodding his head, he stood up and grabbed a can of yellow spray paint. He bent over the machine, and painted a large M on the front, grinning as he admired his handy work.
He climbed back up the ladder, and back into his bedroom. He walked to the sink and washed all his utensils, and then swept the floor. Seeing his small home, looked as good as it every had, he collected all his most important items and threw them into his back pack.
He pulled a pre-payed cell phone out of his pocket. He stopped walking for a moment and starred at the phone. He silently asked himself if he still wanted this. Hit thoughts went back to the three boys and how good it felt to hurt them, and he nodded, making himself walk. He climbed back into his lab, and ran a starting program on his computer, smiling as his machine booted up. Due to the thin walls of his small apartment, he could hear the yells of anger, as his programed sapped all of the electricity out of the entire block of homes.
He pulled the cheap phone out of his pocket once again, and held 1, calling a number he had set on speed dial. He held the phone to his ear, and was surprised as someone answered on the first ring.
"West Island Police Department, what's the emergency?"
"Yes, this is Miles Prower, I live at 21 Northburry Street, and I just want to tell you I attacked those three boys last night, and intend to do it again." Miles kept his voice monotone, not wanting to reveal how tense he was. He knew however, the drastically underused police force would respond to his call immediately. Miles left the call going and placed the phone on the table, walking back towards the ladder.
Sliding over to his monitor he saw the start up program had been completed. He walked over to his machine, stopping for a moment to listen to the hum of it coming alive. Knowing tonight would be filled with more revenge filled him with joy, and he practically shook.
He walked back over to his chair and waited for the sirens.
Police Chief Sleuth Hound had a very quiet job. So when the call came in that a "Miles Prower" was the attacker from last night, and he intended to strike again, he got to the address as soon as he could. He had evacuated the area, ignoring the obviously drugged out junkies in the alleys, and built a road block around the seemingly empty shack.
He had ordered his men to wait outside, not allowing anyone to get near the doors until they were properly prepared. As he surveyed the scene, he grunted in surprise as he saw what seemed to be every officer on the island. The lack of major offenses must have drawn them all here.
Sleuth looked to his deputy who also grinned when he saw the amount of cops. The chief was about to call him over, when a small, but powerful vibration began beneath his feet. He looked up and saw his deputy was also looking at the ground confused. A quick glance around, revealed more confused faces.
Sleuth picked up his megaphone and was about to send all his men in, when the unthinkable happened.
The front of the shack blew open, throwing splintered metal and wood over all the cops. Many were to stunned to move, but many ran behind their vehicles. The rest of the already maimed shack followed, with the roof going airborne and landing on one of the police cruisers.
The dust around the scene made it hard to see, a opaque wall of dirt and sand between them and the suspect, but the obvious sound of yelling cops and side arms being fired, meant that their was trouble. Sleuth pulled out his hand gun and aimed it at the direction of where the shack once stood.
He stood holding his position. It was then he realized how silent it was. No more shots were being fire, and no more of his men were yelling. The silence remained for minutes, making Sleuth break out in sweat. The air in front of him was still thick and filled with dust, so he had zero visibility on whatever destroyed the shack.
Sleuth let out a whistle, and was greeted by a dozen whistles back, a sign his men were still present. He opened his mouth to yell a order, when one more whistle was made through the silence. It sounded like a young voice, but amplified many times, like through a loud speaker. Sleuth raised his gun again, confused.
"Is someone there?" Sleuth called, wondering if the young whistle was nothing more than an annoying bystander. It was quiet for a moment, and then from somewhere a sound of metal could be heard, then a shout from one of his men, then the sound of gunshots.
"Forward, box him in!" Yelled Sleuth, exiting his spot from behind his car and walking in the direction the shack had once been. He heard another yelp and more gunshots, but it was still to dusty to see what was happening. He continued, focusing only on the sound of his foot steps.
He stopped when the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. He turned around, gun still raised and looked up in confusion. Above him were two glowing eyes, illuminated as if by light bulbs.
"Greetings officer." the young voice said again, coming from the direction of the lights. Sleuth heard another metallic sound and a massive rusty metal hand reached out of the dust cloud.
What did you think! Good or bad? Should i keep going?
If I do, im getting some Sonic vs. Miles battles going, should be fun!
(Also, changed the name to A Brave New World!)