Yoza. So the first chapter went aright. Not a bad start with the views and the reviews, but I think I should clarify something. The sword that was stabbed into Tails when he was a kid in order to revive Sparda was Rebellion, but the sword disappeared after he left the place. I never made mention of it again after that failed ritual until after the prologue.

This story will tell how he got that sword back and how it managed to get out of Mobius and into Takeda's hands. We're also going finally met another person that was mentioned in the first fic from Siles's past, but never gotten into too much detail about. That will come with this chapter.

I'm also going to announce that I'm no longer a Sonic fan anymore and really I'm keeping this story going because I like it and I'm doing it for you guys. Why am I no longer a Sonic fan? Because it's dead. It's games are dead, it's TV series are dead, and it's comics are even dead.

All we have now is the fandom we created and the memories we have.

Eh, that's all I wanted to say for now.

Read on.


"The first step, my son, which one makes in the world, is the one on which depends the rest of our days." – Voltaire


(Flashback)

The cultist held a huge sword, one he knew was almost bigger than him. A huge red skull with horns was on each side of the guard, itself styled as a rib cage. The grooved tip, which made the blade slightly resemble a spade, glinted menacingly.

"Xuil nindol dro Lord Sparda, lil dron del szithla wenress zhah a vaen xun. Ku'lam lueth sila udossa ib'ahalii!" the cultist with the sword shouted, the weapon pointing at Tails' body.

At that point, he wet himself. He stopped moving and breathing, and time slowed down. All on his eyes and mind was that sword about to stab him. Would it kill him? Would it all end? Was this a dream?

SLUNK!

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUU UUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUGGGGGGGGG GGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH HHHHHHHHH!

(End Flashback)


(The Music of Welcome Home By Coheed and Cambria plays)

Dark Side of the World Presents…

A Sonic the Hedgehog fanfic…

crossed over with material from Devil May Cry….

as well as information of Demonology and Angelology….

...edited by REV6Pilot...

BLOODTAIL: THE FIRST DEVIL TRIGGER

Disclaimer: The author owns nothing that is not his….

(Music ends)


Siles gasped and looked around, finding himself in his bathtub. The shower above drenched him obliviously as he struggled back to his feet. Rubbing his temples, he tried to push the memory of that day out of his mind.

Kit…

Don't even start, Sparda, thought Siles, leaning against the wall. I don't blame you. It wasn't your fault.Besides, if it wasn't for you I wouldn't be this powerful.

My fault or not, it was my sword and power that caused you to suffer like this. But that's not the point: do you really believe having all this power is as worth it as you say?

Sparda's words summoned up more old memories. He could still remember a village, hidden by a forest of unimaginable size. He could still hear the children playing, ignorant to the horrors of the war being fought by their loved ones for the sake of their freedom. The smell of the mess hall cooking up dinner, chili dogs more often than not, was still fresh in his mind. He could even remember the old chants of the small church dedicate to The Walkers just a few blocks from where his old home used to be.

Yet these once cherished memories held not just nostalgia, but also rage. Rage against mobians he trusted and would have died for, who had left him to rot in the dirt because of their fear. A growl escaped his lips as he punched the wall, his fist leaving a hole in it.

That's gonna come out of the rent, you know.

Whatever. Siles lowered his hand. So, what's so special about this sword? I know it used to be yours, but what exactly is it?

During my war against Mundus in the Dark Ages, there was that sword, forged by myself. The sword, however, was too powerful for anyone but me to use. I knew my descendants would continue my legacy, the mission to keep humanity safe, so I split the power into two different swords: Yamato and Rebellion, both different, but equal. My descendants and those worthy of its power have used them countless times, but some time ago, I've lost track of them.

Siles rubbed his chin. So it's that powerful. I take it you want me to get it?

It's better than letting some cultist nutjob take it. Getting it would be very useful.

That meant taking Cox's job and fighting in the tournament.

A nervous sweat broke down the mobian's forehead. He was confident in his abilities and training, but this was a different story. There were going to be more experienced fighters than him for sure, with a good chance they could squish him flat.

Then again, this could be my big break to make a name for myself. Either by winning the tournament, or by completing this mission. Maybe even both.

Turning the water off, he got out of the shower and wrapped a towel around his waist as he entered the living room. Sitting on the couch, he lazily looked up towards the blank ceiling in silence. Unconsciously, his left hand slowly moved up his chest and pressed each of the wounds that he could still feel, despite them leaving no scar on his body.

Seven shots. Seven bullets. More than seven pain spots.

Siles shook his head. He closed his eyes and let himself drift off to sleep.


Say what one will about Manhattan, but it knew how to impress. Filled with the tallest of buildings and busiest of streets, it wasn't a surprise to see why most people preferred coming here. Broadway, Times Square, the memorial dedicated to the original New York City, all of it made the city a big tourist attraction.

Siles hated coming here. Not because of the representation or the people in general, but because it was always so crowded. Nothing sucked worse than having to squeeze between a fat walrus and a homeless bum who hadn't showered in days. Then there were those crazy folks who always did something stupid to attract attention, like preach the end of days or sing a song while in their underwear. The worst was the political conspiracy nuts who always were talking about the government or the corporations dragging society down.

More on one occasion had Siles antagonized them—with a little help from an all knowing demon—in order to get them angry and have them make the first move. This allowed him to beat them up "in self-defense". Sure, it was a bit of a dick move, but who doesn't want to punch a screaming conspiracy nut in the face every once in a while?

After a few searches, Siles finally managed to find the June Bug Café. It was a simple coffee shop with a small stage for poets and performers. Sitting in the back corner was Agent Cox, sipping his coffee.

Taking a seat next across from the O.A.S.I.S. agent, Siles leaned back and put his feet on the table. Cox raised an eyebrow at the display, but shrugged it off. "I take it you accept?"

Siles lifted his hands, showing himself like he was on display. "I'm here, aren't I?"

Chuckling, the agent nodded and pulled out a file from underneath the table. "Well, let's get started. Your first order is to take care of a human by the name of Vick Slannis."

"I thought I was supposed to go to this island, complete in a tournament of fighters, find the bad guy, get his contact list and then kill him."

Don't forget closing the portal to Outworld.

What?

Old reference.

"You don't really think Takeda is just going to invite you to his tournament just like that, right? This isn't like accepting a friend request on a social media website. You have to earn your keep to get in."

Cox took out a picture of an obese bald guy with shades, a white suit and bling that would make a pimp jealous. "This is Vick Slannis, AKA Vick the Slick. He used to do business with Takeda, but they had an argument over money… you know how it goes."

"I take it Vick isn't too smart?" asked Siles, studying the photo.

"That, and he's greedy," answered Cox, putting away the photo. "He's got a hit on him and, despite the wise warnings of his lieutenants, he's still in the city, spending his nights at his club in the Bowery, watching his strippers shake their asses in front of him, the works."

Have I heard the word strippers?!

Siles rolled his eyes. We're doing this for the job, not so see nude skanks.

Hey! I'm desperate. If you would just get laid already I could feel some satisfaction, but you keep denying me the enjoyment!

I'm only fifteen, you lecher!

That's the new twenty-one in some areas.

Ignoring the blabbering demon, Siles nodded and got up from his seat. "I'll meet you here tomorrow with Vick's head. Have my invitation ready."

"Hm. Would you still be this confident if I told you Vick hires demons as professional body guards? And that they're not the usual first and second level riff-raff?"

Siles turned around and gave him a grin. "That only means more fun for me."


Finding the club wasn't a problem, thanks to the bright neon lights and rave music loud enough to be heard literally a mile away. Bloodtail made his way towards the club's entrance, ignoring the long line that had humans and mobians, either standing around in lonely boredom or dancing to the beat from inside. A few of them shot the young demon hunter curious looks, but mostly they ignored him.

He was finally halted at the door by two bald humans in suits and sunglasses. How cliché can you get?, he thought.

One of them took off his shades, revealing a pair of slitted, blood red eyes. "Back of the line," he ordered.

The demon hunter made a gesture of polishing his claws against his fuzzy chest, following that by looking at the speaker with an 'are you serious' look.

"Unless you're on the list, I suggest you leave the way you came from," the bouncer said again, lowering his head to whisper, "unless you want to go wash that big tail of yours in the riverbank."

Bloodtail was about to retort when Sparda interrupted. Kit, don't make a scene. I know you can take these guys, but going Rambo is only going to bring more trouble, and we don't know what kind of backup they got in there. Let's sneak inside this time.

Raising his hands with a mock-sheepish grin, Bloodtail backed off and walked away. He glanced back to see the guards turn back to the next guest in line.

Now with no eyes on him, he ducked into an alley and disappeared from sight.


At the back of the club, a large hovertruck pulled in. A greyhound and a red fox signaled him to stop, and the vehicle halted at the landing zone. Four mechanical arms reached out and grabbed it, slowly setting it down for a smooth landing; after it stopped, the driver jumped out from his seat and nodded to the two guards. "Evenin', boys. Got a fresh batch for ya boss."

"Any trouble?" asked the fox with a smirk.

"A couple were a bit more resistant than most, so we had to make an example," muttered the diver. "None of the younger ones though, don't wanna take another tongue lashing."

The greyhound nodded and made his way to a steel door with a keypad. He was about to press the first key when he heard a few grunts and turned around. He whipped out his pistol in instinctive shock; his partner and the driver were down on the ground, knocked out.

The remaining guard looked left and right for any sign of the attacker until he heard the faint sound of a hammer clicking behind his head. "Drop it."

The greyhound gulped and obeyed. As soon as the gun hit the floor, he was grabbed from behind and shoved into the metal door, the cold barrel pressing behind one of his ears.

"Open the door."

"I-I…" The guard didn't get a chance to argue any further; his left arm was snapped like a twig. "AUGH! ALRIGHT! ALRIGHT!" Using his right arm, the mobian typed in the code, and the steel sheets slid open after a confirmatory beep open.

Having no more use for the guard, Bloodtail wrapped his hands around the dog's head and twisted. Tossing the dead guard away, he turned to the truck and sighed. A bullet smashed the lock off. A dozen girls, both mobian and human, ranging from teenagers to in their mid-twenties, instantly moved to block their eyes from the bright lights when he opened the trunk, scampering into the corners. The hunter shook his head.

One of the girls managed the courage to glance at him. The fear in her expression softened. "Hey, he doesn't look like the usual guards."

"Because I'm not, "Bloodtail said, spooking her. "I'm actually here to kill the bastard who put you through this. Guards are out, the way's clear. Move."

The girls were hesitant in coming forward, but one by one they eventually got out of the truck. After taking some time to gain back the feeling in their legs, they thanked Bloodtail and rushed out into the alley.

A mouse, the last of the batch, turned to Bloodtail before running off to join her friends. "Put a bullet in that fucker's head for me."

He nodded, passing the open doors after she left. Now I have two reasons to kill his asshole.


The moment he entered the main building, Bloodtail's ears were blasted with techno music; it felt like his eardrums were going to pop. A while later, he was conditioned enough to phase out most of the music, and crossing the hall was a much less uncomfortable experience.

The room was quite big for a single floor room. In the right corner, a DJ used his mixer's virtual interface system to work his magic. Across the halls was the entrance, along with a few seats for members who were too tired or looking for someone to chat with.

The flashing lights and drug smoke filled the air, both ignored by Bloodtail as he weaved through a crowd of party crazed clubbers as they shook their bodies to the beat, all of them intoxicated to some degree. A few were even passed out on the floor, getting trampled by the ignorant masses. The demon hunter caught a few eyes from the females – and, to his embarrassment, one or two males as well – all of whom had their advances ignored.

After much effort, he managed to make it out of the mob and found himself at the bar. He wiped the sweat from his forehead. Are all clubs this crazy, or just this one?

The bartender walked over to him with her arms crossed. "Gonna order something, noob? Or are you gonna puke?"

Bloodtail took a look at her, and saw that she wasn't the usual fare. Her skin was scaled green, with three small horns adorning her forehead, backed by a reptilian fin-shaped crown. Her face had no nose or nostrils, and her smile showed a set of red teeth, sharp as a shark's. A sultry growl escaped her lips. "I know I'm sexy, noob, but are you gonna order or not?"

"Just some water," Bloodtail muttered. Anything alcohol and he would be asked for ID, and that was sure to end up in a bad scenario for everyone. "What makes you think I'm a noob, anyway?"

"Well, first, I saw you coming looking all sweaty and disturbed, and you blew off everyone that had the hots for you," the demon answered as she filled a glass of icy water and sent it sliding on the counter towards Bloodtail's extended hand. "Sure half of them were lusters, but still, nobody does that at this joint. Secondly, you asked for water. Third, I'm just that good at judging people, noob."

I like this chick, whistled Sparda. She may be an Amina, but damn, what a mouth!

Bloodtail sipped his drink. "Well, good guess. You won't tell anybody, will you?"

"Naw, you're a curious kid. But if you get into deep shit, then you'll have to deal with it," warned the bartender as she leaned on the counter and smiled. "I'm Jex, by the way. Real name's Jexxenxian, but everybody calls me Jex for short. Yours?"

"Siles Drowler. Call me Bloodtail."

"Cool name," said Jex as she got off the counter to answer an order from another patron. "But I'm still gonna call you Noob," she added over her shoulder.

Alone at last, Bloodtail looked around, trying to find any sign or where his target was as well as gauging the present resistance. He could see similar suited men from the entrance, most likely demons as well. There were also a few more metal doors that he bet held some nasty surprises just waiting for trouble to run free.

But where is the big cheese?

As he looked up, he facepalmed. It couldn't be more obvious. Right above him was a balcony protected by bullet proof glass, and inside it, sitting on a large chair, was Vick the Slick, just as his photo pictured him. Chained to his chair were two naked women with long forked tongues licking his feet, completing the portrait of ostentation. Beside him were two tall men dressed in black cloaks, most likely his top bodyguards. Bloodtail groaned. Did this guy forget he's got a hit on him? He'd only make himself more out in the open if he wore a target on his chest that said 'kill me now'!

"Looking at the boss?" asked Jex, who was now back to her underaged customer. "Kind of a slimeball, isn't he?"

"And you're working for him," Bloodtail pointed out.

She shrugged. "We all get at least one bad boss in our lives. Believe me, I've dealt with worse."

Bloodtail brought his drink to his lips, but stopped when he looked up and saw one of the bar's TV screens. It was a news scene about Mobius, more specifically a shot of a few individuals from Mobius.

"…when asked about dealing with the rising demon populace in her nation, Their Majesties King Sonic and Queen Sally addressed their public saying that they will form a special task force similar to OASIS. While the UNO has praised the Kingdom of Mobius for their efforts to combat demonic threats, many are still saying that things would be easier if Mobius were to join the U.N.O. and receive the full benefits. Similarly, this announcement was made a few days before the yearly celebrated death of accused demon Mile—"

A gunshot ended the news cast, the bullet destroying the screen and its vital circuits.

Bloodtail calmly put his gun away, casually looking around for any hostile reactions. Thankfully, it seemed the music had drowned out the sound and most of the transients didn't notice the incident. He turned to an unimpressed Jex, the only one that seemed to have paid him any heed. "I could have just shut it for off you, noob."

He pushed his glass away. The water would taste bitter in his tongue, he knew it. "Sorry, I'll pay for it."

"Forget it, that piece of junk never worked right anyway. Now I got an excuse to get a new one," said Jex, grinning a mirthful smile. "I won't even tell anyone that you're packing."

Bloodtail nodded and turned his attention toward Vick, wondering how he was going to get the guy without alerting the whole club. I'm sure something will come to me.


Back outside, one of the bouncers up front was trying to ignore a drunken man arguing to him about being on the list when he actually wasn't. He was half tempted to just shoot the guy or at least punch him, both non-viable options according to the boss, who didn't want to draw any unnecessary attention.

His thoughts were interrupted by people in the line arguing. Someone was pushing through the line, ignoring their pissed off comments until the trouble maker was right in front of him. She was no taller than a mid-to-late teenager, with her figure being the only hint of her gender, thanks to her face being hidden by a black bicycle helmet with a silver streak on top. She wore a slim black suit with elbow pads, shoulder pads, and spiked gloves for her arms while her legs were covered by kneepads and combat boots, the latter with a metal edge at the top. All of that was definitely not the usual party-goer gear, but the center was what really interested him. It looked like body armor with dark yellow tattoos designed on the front, with the "ink" lines reaching out to the back and limbs.

The strange biker chick took a step forward and lifted her head to face him, and he tried to see into the visor. Something was blocking his demonic sight. "What do you want?"

"I want in," her muffled voice demanded.

"Hey!" slurred the drunkard. "Wh-why tha fuck does this b-bitch get to go in… and… and not meh?!"

The bouncer glanced at his earlier headache before returning his gaze towards the biker chick. "Name?"

She didn't answer. The bouncer sighed and shook his head. "Listen here, lady. We follow something we call 'rules'. Those rules are simple: not on the list, not getting in."

The two of them stared at each other, neither moving from their spot. The bouncer twitched. Is this bitch deaf?

He was about to tell her to buzz off when she turned around and muttered, "I'll be back." She walked off, ignoring the whispers of the line and the photos some of the more lecherous patrons were taking of her rear.

The guard made a mental note to ask one of them for a copy when he let them in. Sure, she was weird, but it wasn't everyday that he saw an ass as nice as hers. He was about to attend to the next person in line when his sharper-than-normal hearing picked up the sound of a motorcycle approaching. He sighed. Bitch really thinks that's enough to threaten us? He turned toward his partner, who nodded, and both stepped out onto the streets, their guns drawn, waiting.

The timespan of less than three seconds brought forth a high-pitched whistle of two rockets flying straight at the very bar door they had left behind.

"Oh, shi—"


A powerful shockwave hit the club like a bowling ball on a strike. Debris from the front entrance shot out in all directions, as did the body parts of those unlucky enough to be caught in the blast, both raining down upon the now floored customers. Guards took out their weapons, attempting to restore order, while the DJ's set went mute.

Bloodtail reached for his pistols; the chips were down, there was no point in hiding them anymore. He glared at the smoking remains of the club's front, feverishly wondering just what the hell was going on.

Either this is some new band entrance, or a new challenger has appeared, Sparda commented.

The answer came as a motorbike leaping out of the smoke. As it landed in front of the crowd, Bloodtail was surprised at its rider. She looks as young as me!

Checking out the vehicle earned it an awed whistle. It was a classic Harley-Davidson Scorpion, armed with a gatling guns on the front and a multi-missile pod on the back.

The intruder reached into a nearby gunholster and pulled out a large double barrel shotgun.

She lifted it up into the air and fired. And then all hell broke loose.

End of Chapter

Sorry it took so long. Real life for both me and my editor. Action in the next chapter which will come as soon as possible.

Later