Okay, as promised, here's a bit of an insight on the pre-Sonic days of everyone's favourite twin-tailed fox. Many thanks to my new follower, Doomxdesire94, and thank you to guest reviewer "John" for your kind words and good wishes. As usual, I state that I don't own any of the Sonic characters in this chapter apart from Tusk. They all belong to either Sega, Archie Comics, Fleetway comics or Ken Penders.
TIME: 18 May, 3324
PLACE: Suburbs of Emerald Town, South Island
Rosemary Prower frowned suspiciously at her dustbin. The early-forties fox woman had been just about to take out another load of domestic waste, when she could have sworn she had seen the dustbin move. She moved a little closer. Yes, the dustbin was definitely rocking gently from side to side. Grabbing a broom that was propped against the back wall of the Prower residence, Rosemary walked cautiously over to the dustbin, hooking the broom handle through the lid of the bin and lifting it. When nothing came flying out, Rosemary walked up to the bin and looked inside. She was both shocked and amazed to find her first-born son stuffed upside-down into the bin.
"Miles?" Rosemary clapped her hand over her mouth for a moment before coming to her senses and tipping the bin over and freeing her son from his confinement. The young fox crawled out of the bin, brushing various mouldy food scraps out of his fur. "Thank you, mum." he said sheepishly. Rosemary glared at her son, not in anger but in protective worry. "Who did this to you, honey?" she asked gently. Miles Prower remained silent, large blue eyes unable to meet his mother's gaze.
Rosemary placed her hands on her youngest son's shoulders. "They told you to keep quiet, didn't they?" Miles only nodded in reply. Rosemary sighed deeply. "Son, I'm not so old yet that I don't remember that the unwritten rule of childhood is that you don't tell on people who are causing you grief, but you're a smart boy. I'm sure you can see that keeping it all to yourself will end up hurting you more than telling someone who can help you. So I'm going to ask you again. Who put you in the bin?"
"Tusk." Miles sniffled. Rosemary nodded. "Tusk the Warthog?" she prompted. Miles nodded in reply. Rosemary ruffled Miles' fluffy quiff of orange fur. "That wasn't so hard, was it, honey? And telling me proves you're a lot braver than that jerk Tusk. Now, go and take a shower. You can't meet your favourite grandfather smelling like a landfill site, can you?" Miles' ears perked up at his mother's words. "Uncle Merlin?" Rosemary smiled at her son. "Uncle Merlin. He should be arriving soon." Miles gave an excited yip and dashed off indoors. Rosemary's smile disappeared as she followed him indoors.
Entering the living room, Rosemary found four other foxes, one in an armchair and the other three sitting together on the sofa. The fox in the centre of the sofa was the oldest in the room, possibly sixty-something, possibly up to eighty-something. It was difficult to tell, as he moved with the vigour of a much younger fox, and always seemed to be smiling, giving his face an even more youthful look. His eyes were blue and sparkled with mischief, and he stroked his pointed grey beard thoughtfully. He was wearing a loose brown robe not unlike a monk's habit and a pair of sandals. Beside him sat a male fox in his late teens or early twenties. His hair was combed over one eye, and he was wearing the uniform of a junior lieutenant in the Acorn Kingdom's self-defence forces. On the other side of the elder fox, there was a young female fox in her mid-teens. Her fur was a little darker than the other foxes' and her eyes were a flinty blue colour. She was wearing purple leggings, knee high boots, a black fitted T-shirt and a green item of clothing that looked a bit like a karate gi. The fourth fox, sitting on the armchair, looked to be in his forties. The bright orange fur of his youth had darkened into a rusty brown. His eyes were deep blue, although only one was visible. The other eye was presumably damaged or lost, as a black eyepatch covered his left eye. He wore an ornate military uniform bearing the insignia of a brigadier-general.
Rosemary marched up to the military fox in the armchair, momentarily ignoring the others. "Amadeus, can we talk?" she spoke into his ear. The one-eyed fox looked up, smiling slightly. "I get the feeling that if I said no, I'd lose my other eye, so what is it you want to talk about, dear?"
"Miles." Rosemary said simply, without smiling. Amadeus' face fell too. "Oh. Is he being picked on again?" Rosemary nodded. "That deadbeat Tusk threw him in our dustbin, for crying out loud!" Amadeus' single eye blazed with fury. "He what? Well, I guess I'd better go round and tell Mrs. Warthog what her dear son has been doing while out of her sight! Please excuse me, chaps." Amadeus stood up and charged out of the room with all the righteous fury of an avenging angel. The elder fox on the sofa chuckled. "You picked a good husband there, Rosie. He still shows all the decisive dash that earned him the title of 'conductor of the battlefield.'" He suddenly grew serious, and when he spoke again, he sounded concerned. "How is Miles?" Rosemary shook her head. "Physically, nothing more than a couple of bruises. As for his mental state, your guess is as good as mine." The older fox looked deeply sad, as if bearing a huge weight.
"The mark of the Kitsune is a difficult burden to bear, Rosie. Great gifts always inspire jealousy among others. I just wish I could do something to help Miles beyond giving him moral support." Rosemary looked equally worried. "I know what you mean, dad. Miles would be a target anyway just for his high intelligence, but his…other affliction…makes it ten times worse."
As if on cue, the subject of their discussion walked into the room, freshly washed and brushed. Miles Prower was a young fox, only eight years old. His fur was a very vibrant pale orange, bordering on golden yellow, and his eyes were a rich sky blue. He was wearing his normal outfit of white gloves and a pair of red and white shoes. At first glance, he looked like any other fox boy on Mobius. However, a closer inspection would show that Miles was no ordinary fox. For a start, he was a phenomenal child prodigy. At only eight, he was already intelligent enough to devour university textbooks. That was why the paperwork had just come through granting permission for Miles to skip both his remaining years of primary and all of his secondary education, and engage in a postal university course with the renowned scientist and scholar Professor Marcus Pickle. The second unusual thing about Miles waved behind him. Instead of a single foxes' brush, as found on all his relatives, two large fluffy tails sprouted from the base of his spine. The young foxes' twin tails wagged as he caught sight of the figure on the sofa. "Uncle Merlin!"
"Hello, my boy!" Merlin Prower chuckled as Miles ran over and hugged him. The younger male fox on the sofa reached over and gave Miles a playful noogie. "Hi there, squirt." he smiled. "Hi, cousin Errol." Miles replied, hugging the other male fox. The female fox looked on with an expression of slight amusement. "Do I have to take a shower before I get a hug?" she asked playfully. Miles ran over and gave his other cousin, Moraine, a hug. "That's more like it, Tails." she grinned.
"Moraine, please don't taunt my son like that." Rosemary said in a steely voice. Moraine frowned slightly. "It's not a taunt, auntie, it's a nickname. Besides, he doesn't seem to mind." Rosemary stared Moraine down. "I seem to be out of sugar. Would you mind making yourself useful and heading downtown to buy some?" Moraine rolled her eyes. "Fine." she replied sulkily. "Can I come?" Miles piped up, seemingly oblivious to the tension in the room. Moraine smiled at her young cousin. "If you think you can keep up. Let's go, Tails!"
Walking down the street, Miles and Moraine soon came to a long viaduct that connected Emerald Town with the highway with Forest Town further inland, and the adjacent nature reserve, Green Hill Park. The view from the viaduct was spectacular. On a clear day you could see almost as far as Cocoa Island in the west, and on a clear night, the lights of the Spring Yard Amusement Park lit up the eastern horizon. Miles dashed out onto the bridge, peering over the guard rails into the distance. "Tails, get back before you fall!" Moraine yelled after him. "It's not likely I'll fall." Miles shouted back. "Cable-stayed bridges are strong and tough, and the guard rails are fully secure."
"That's what I hate about you, twin-tailed freak." A voice that sounded as young as Miles, but with a harsh, dangerous tone, whispered in Miles' ear. Miles turned around and saw a grey warthog of his own age stepping up next to him. "Tusk!" yelped Miles. He turned to run back to Moraine, but Tusk grabbed him by the arm. Miles squeaked with pain as his nemesis twisted his arm painfully. "Not only are you a double tailed freakazoid, you're also a wet little nerd who goes running to mommy when the going gets tough. You know what happened when you told on me to your psycho dad? He came round to my house and told my mom, and now she says I can't play my Xbox for two weeks! Well, here's what you get for telling on me!"
Moraine ran up to Tusk and struck a fighting stance that she'd learnt from her karate classes. Her eyes were cold and menacing as she stared at Tusk. "You want to be very, very sure you want to go down this road, because I got his back." she snarled at the warthog. Tusk may have been a bully, but he wasn't stupid. Seeing the look in Moraine's eyes, he shoved Miles in the back, trying to push him towards Moraine, then turned and ran. As such, Tusk didn't see Miles stumble in a slightly different angle than intended, teeter on the edge of oblivion for a moment, and then tumble off the bridge as momentum carried him over the guard rails. Moraine and Miles screamed as one as the young fox plummeted into the deep river valley.
Moraine fell to her knees and started sobbing. She didn't know how long she stayed there, but her tormented thoughts were interrupted by the voice of her cousin. "Don't cry, Moraine. I'm here." Moraine opened her eyes and saw something beyond her belief. Miles was hovering in midair right in front of her, suspended over the side of the viaduct. If anything other than magic was keeping him there, it was the fact that his two tails were spinning around in a blur above him. "Miles? How are you doing that?" Moraine gaped. Miles flew uncertainly towards the bridge, eventually controlling his course enough to land near to Moraine. His tails stopped rotating and he looked confused at Moraine's question. "I don't know how I did that. When I was falling, my tails were waving around a lot in fright, and then I started rising back up. It's scientifically impossible, though. Sure, a helicopter works a bit like that, but I don't have a tail rotor to control my direction, and anyway, my tails are the wrong shape to act as an aerofoil."
"Well, as granddad would say, 'not everything can be explained by science.' Now come on, Tails. Let's get the sugar and head home before you scare me like that again." As the cousins walked off in the direction of the corner shop, something blue shot past them at high speed, heading in the direction of Green Hill Park. "What do you suppose that was?" asked Miles, scientific curiosity replacing his slightly shaken demeanour. "Couldn't tell. It was moving too fast." shrugged Moraine. "It's certainly been a day for weird events, though."
No prizes for guessing what the "blue blur" at the end was! Anyways, I've mixed up the Prower family tree a bit. As in the Archie comics, Tails' parents are Amadeus and Rosemary, and his grandfather is Merlin, but I also put in two characters from the Fleetway comics as Tails' cousins. In the Fleetway comics, Errol and Moraine Blackthorn were twin warrior foxes from the "high fantasy " realm of the "Nameless Zone." I tweaked their history, so they're no longer fantasy warriors, but they're still fighters. As mentioned, Errol's a junior lieutenant in the army, and (although it probably wasn't made clear) Moraine is a karate black belt. Oh, and I changed the first name of Professor Pickle. Calling him "Dil" always seemed rather groan-worthy to me. That pun is almost as bad as...er...Miles Prower? Anyway, next time, we see what the world's eggiest terrorist has been up to in the last two years. Don't miss it!