Disclaimer: I don't own Sonic.

Jet

It was a dark night. He stood alone atop a rooftop, his Extreme Gear under his arm. He stared off into the metallic canyons, watching the city's nightlife through his blue eyes.

He thought to himself about all that he had obtained so far in his fifteen years. He had a ship, and he had a crew. Through his travels had gained treasure and wealth. And he had fame… but most importantly, his accomplishment of earning the title of; "Fastest Thing Alive."

And several times challengers had come along to try and take that title. (They all lost, of course)

Why did he try to maintain the title? Well, to be truthful, does anybody like to have what they've worked for taken away? No! If they have any will, any strength, they fight to their last breath to maintain it.

Then one day, he came along. Here one instant, and gone the next in a flash of blue wind.

He glanced at his Gear being held in his arms, and found himself clenching his fists… and he snarled, dropping the board, his most cherished possession, on the floor next to him in a moment of frustration.

He'd practiced for hours each day, reaching new speeds and heights.

And then his Rival came. Here was a challenge to him. Of course he'd heard about him, this world-saving hero. He couldn't care less most of the time…for the most part. True he was grateful that the world had been saved several times over thanks to his intervention… he was a thief as well, after all, and thieves didn't get to steal from others when the world was destroyed and everybody was dead.

But then he realized that his very own title wasn't even unique. For his Rival also held the same title as he! For all the people to call his rival "The Fastest Thing Alive?" It was impossible. It was as if all the accomplishments that he'd made in all the races were null and void!

So he did his research in his disbelief. His Rival really was that fast! And the thing is… he did it all on his own. He used no Gear, no component outside of his own body, and his own mind. He could actually reach those speeds on his own power!

As a bird, he could fly on his own. Hawks were among the fastest birds in the sky, yes. But his Rival had surpassed where he himself had never been able to accomplish.

As fast as his Extreme Gear made him, it was all artificial. His board would never reach those speeds. There was no hardware, no technology that would give his Gear the speed and control needed. He asked… no he'd ordered his mechanic to make his Gear faster, anything to beat him!

She listened and obeyed. Months passed, and she'd done all she could. Given her skill, he knew he would have to be a fool to believe otherwise. His Gear was running better now, smoother… and above all… faster.

But it still wasn't enough. His rival still was faster. His rival still beat him… and the truth hurt.

As fast as he could fly on his own, he could not beat him. And while he himself wasn't slow on his feet… the other had him beat on that regard by an incomprehensible amount already.

So what was the point?

He'd entered a stage of denial, not wanting to believe it and found himself thinking back to the first time he and his Rival had met, one night in this metallic city.

He easily had his Rival beat, outmaneuvering him on his Gear. This action had restored the confidence that he was afraid of losing.

"So you're supposed to be the fastest thing alive? What a joke!"

But then he'd later realized the absurdity of it all and it came crumbling down… He… this land-bound individual, could have easily caught him, BEATEN him soundly and easily, if he'd ran on his own two feet!

Did he pity him?

Did he feel that he, the leader of the Babylon Rogues, was so little a challenge that he had to lower himself to using a gear that he had no experience on in order to make it a challenge even worth considering?

Did he just on a whim feel like giving himself a handicap just for the sake of humoring his opponent's ego? (Something that he now realized was ironic given how he was guilty of the same showboating in his own races. It certainly wasn't so funny when the shoe was on the other foot).

He then grew worried, and observed from the shadows. His rival began improving with his gear, and at much a far faster rate than he himself had done! Apparently his own innate talent for speed accelerated his learning process!

In fact, to the extent the worry turned into fear and another blow to his pride was made.

He'd then let his fear get to him. He placed the order to have their next race rigged, that his opponent's Gear would fail, ensuring him the race. He'd finally done it!

He'd won!

But…again… he'd realized, he'd reached his lowest point. Even he… even a thief like him had known and appreciated the worth of a challenge. Even he had some HONOR! And yet he'd cheated in a race that was supposed to be on equal terms, where if he had any confidence in his own skill, then such measures would have been unnecessary.

Months passed, and he later made a wish… a wish for the power to beat him, and using a power from his ancient home… had used that power… but once again… his opponent had managed to do the same.

What was it that made him special? What was it that made him able to learn so quickly?

He didn't know.

And yet deep within underneath his fear…he'd enjoyed it. He'd learned. So many people had challenged him, and so many had lost. So much so that he'd realized how boring it was, and how long it had been since he'd felt the thrill of racing against a worthy adversary.

In subsequent races, he'd demanded that their races be fair. He'd beat him on his own terms. He'd beat him in what HE himself was good at.

And if he lost a couple of times…so what? Amazing though… how his own pride had blinded him to it. He couldn't be good at everything…

"Jet?"

"Boss?"

He was brought out of his musings by his companions' voices, signifying their arrival. In their arms they held a small group of gems… seven to be precise, of varying colors.

"Huh… is this what he's after all the time?" Eyeing the green one, he'd picked it up out of her arms and stared into its faceted depths.

It was brilliant. He felt power surge through him…It wasn't…unnatural though…

He'd heard of these gems and their legends… that they could unleash power… power unique to each person... It was why he'd once needed them to obtain the secrets of his ancestors.

And yet… did he ever use them himself? Did he ever think of them as more than a means to get rich? Or to bring up the past?

If so… this power… was it truly his this time, with no strings attached?

The remaining six as if they responded to his thoughts, levitated out of his companions arms and orbited him…

He felt words coming to him…

"The servers are the seven chaos emeralds."

"Chaos is power…enriched by the heart..." This power… it's not theirs… it's… HIM?"

"The controller is the one that unifies the chaos…" His to control…and his to use?"

A power far greater than that he'd experianced from his ancestral home flowed into him. In a flash of light, he changed, his feathers, normally a deep green… turned a brilliant, shining blue. His sneakers turned a midnight black, the black flames shining a bright red. A flaring aura emanated from him.

Hovering there without use of either his wings or his Extreme Gear, he felt this… this power as a true extension of himself.

Turning to face the horizon, the immeasurable distance. He knew his Rival would be out there somewhere… waiting for the challenge. It was an unspoken agreement between the two of them.

Anytime…

…Anyplace.

Smiling, he thought to himself; "Now, let's see who truly is the fastest."

Author's Note:

Jet has never had a super form in cannon, so I gave him one with his introspection. Namely, he realizes that Sonic is the one opponent who has pushed him to his limits.