Disclaimer: You know the drill, I don't own any of this, it all belongs to their respective owners. I only own the plot. Thanks for the reviews and, yes, I'm a bitch for not updating, watevs :/ . Nah, but seriously sorry. If you want me to update faster, please keep dropping those reviews!

Anyway, Chapter 5.

The words spoken to the incredibly worn and scared Tails sent him into a blind rage. Unknown to him, Wave had safely secured herself within the confines of the bathroom, afraid of the whirlwind of rage Miles had become. Sentient beings were such fragile things. They were easy to make 'crack' and easy to 'riiiiiiip'. Honestly, why was it so important to fit in and 'trust' people? He'd be outright laughing had he not been tearing into some merc's. These were people undeserving of their breaths. Of the very life essence that coursed through their veins. They were covered in military garbs, desert camo pants, black kneepads and elbow guards, wearing tactical vests and helmets, the works. They had arrived at this hotel, if he guessed right, to find something. "Looking for something here? Death is the only thing you'll find." He had gravely spoke. His vocal cords felt abused. He was using such a strong voice.

He laughed maniacally as he broke another merc's back over the contour of his knee, this one was female, if he guessed right by the shriek. But now she was broken, thrown away at another and forgotten, oh how he was just itching to find a new playmate. A particular rookie, lynx if he guessed the right species, was backing away in fear at the sight. 'What a coward' was the only thought being processed at the moment. His vision was tunneled, hearing unimportant, but still working, the edges of his vision was 'blacking out' at the sight of his new prey.

He just stared in ecstasy as the other people were shouting at him, thing's such as 'why wasn't he dying?' or 'what kind of monster is he?!' and the like. They would get theirs soon enough. He charged, the others still pouring lead into his body, as he leapt for the scared soldier of fortune. This coward made the attempt of pulling his gun up, as fear crossed his features, but too late. Miles was on him, the vulpine pulled the man's knife from his ankle holster and shoved it into his knee, earning him a blood curdling scream. He shivered in delight. The bone was split in an uneven half by the knife, blood spewing from the wound. He had been forced to one knee. The fun was not over, however as he grabbed the man's arm and broke it. More screams followed. The bone stabbed through the fabric of his flesh and clothes, peeking out beneath the inside of his elbow. He picked up the private's gun and held up the barrel against the bottom of his chin, "Do you know what the definition of insanity is?" he questioned, motioning the other mercs to try and cautiously make their way to him. He didn't answer, so Miles kept firing until the magazine was empty and the lynx's head blew open. "Doing the same thing over and over yet expecting different results." He spoke evenly, eyes normal and face blank for a second only to slit and fill red to the brim, gaining a huge maniacal grin again, all blue washed away in the tide. YES! THIS WAS WHAT HE WANTED.

Pure; Raw. Unadulterated. Carnage.

He went and dispatched the men and (the few, as they weren't as common) women, he wasn't sexist, he wouldn't treat the women unequally, everyone was going to play; play until they were broken. It was ironic, he would treat every piece of technology equal and yet, here he was breaking everything and everyone in sight. It was a complete 180.

After all his playmates were done, he moved from the hotel room, yes, all of that had happened within one room. They had thought he died from a bullet to the head and tried moving in to complete whatever second basis to their mission was, how wrong they were. He knew they were mercenaries too. Otherwise they would have had patches to signify what military they were working for, only to turn up bare, with guns blazing. But his muddled mind was focused on bodily harm. He would move to the streets and cause as much reckoning and chaos until he was satisfied, but now he was bored, none of the people within the hotel would give him the fight he needed. As he exited the room, a man was to his right, a bellboy he assumed.

"Sir, you're covered in blood, are you okay? I'm going to call an ambul-" he was abruptly cut off as his face had been smashed into the wall, he wasn't dead, probably unconscious and nose bleeding, but he would be fine. Besides, these walls were cheap anyway. Made to look expensive and sturdy, but certainly not the real deal. He started down the right of the hall, walking the long corridor only to be stop, as his ears twitch, he hears something, something bad; he spins on a dime only to cross his arms in front of his face, making two parallel lines to cover his eyes as a huge explosion rocked him a good 10 feet away.

He was blown back onto his ass, knocking the wind out of him as his ears bled silently, it was so close to him too, he was lucky that he wasn't hurt, other than the bullet wounds from earlier. He only wanted the intense pain of whoever decided to bomb half of the fucking hotel! It didn't even occur to him that the explosion came from his room.

The short tirade of the bombing was short-lived however as he moved to vomit blood, 'That can't be good.' the Vulpine had said within the confines of his mind.

He gave himself a once over, to find that his military garb was bloodied, but intact, save for a couple of holes where he had been shot. "Got to look good for the party, don't want to disappoint."

But he came to his knees before he knew it. Coughing up even more blood and a bullet. They were talking to him again, that one little blip of sanity left within him. It was like an annoying bug; one he couldn't 'squish!' or 'crack!' as much as it annoyed the-ever-living-shit of him. "GO AWAY! Daddy needs to check on the party and make sure everyone is having a good time!

His words are fractured parts of his memory; sentences and words float aimlessly about his mind, he doesn't wait for them to surface, whenever they breach the surface of his mind; that's when he will spew the conglomerate (made up of parts from various sources or of various kinds) words from his mouth. This insanity that he was plagued with, is a vile toxin that causes him to become something akin to superhuman as well as kill indiscriminately with extreme prejudice as well as occasionally talk from shattered memories, maybe even a few words on his current predicament.

It would cause him to say a complete sentence, a few words, or…..just scream.

But…it was okay. Because he, for a few insignificant mere minutes, would be invincible. He would be a ruthless god on a battlefield of disobedient subjects and he would send out the appropriate sentence to them; for not acknowledging his superiority and brutal efficiency. Because. . . .they would be dead and he would be….-is still alive, and for those few insignificant mere moments he would not care.

There's scratching- it itches and itches, yet he cannot relieve the itch. It makes him remember his humanity and how guilty he should feel. It makes him scream down the desolate and dead hallway that reeks of death from the fire and flames, to the ashes, to the bodies. Oh god, the number of bodies is so incredibly high and he feels so so bad that he did a bad thing.But he can't bring them back to life because no one comes back from death. Because death was the final step in life…to die. But these deaths are not natural-so much so that even the word unnatural doesn't quite fit it. They were exterminated. Like bugs. Yes. That fit it well. They were bugs and he was the exterminator-He annihilated them. Broke them down from the skin and flesh to the muscles and blood down to the bone-to dust. They were just speckled pieces of sandy dust on a large beige canvas. Done. They were done, he was not. His thoughts are tossed aside as he grips his head with his gloved hands-fingers pressing deeply into his skull-the pressure rises and rises to a terrifying crescendo until the peak is right there-then it stops. His hands fall idly to his sides, swinging back and forth for a bit before stopping. The monster within is quelled; lured back to its corner and the human has been let out of his prison, to roam the aftermath of the horrible genocide that he's left in his wake. He breaks-he is broken-was broken-has been broken for a very long time. So with nothing left to do he curls within himself, a natural human thing to do-to try to helplessly preserve the psyche that is left of the person. So as predicted-he faints; his body hits the floor with a loud 'thump'.

He finally wakes up this time-not induced by rage or anything of the sort as his mind gradually sobers-still missing information in his groggy state. He doesn't know why this is happening, why he's been tossed back onto his stomach as another explosion propels him forward, why, as he scrunches his hands to fists to pick himself off the floor that his right hand is forming a crystalline red crust from blood, why he was crunching ash underneath his grip as his right hand becomes engulfed in the numbness that is shock. His mind takes him for another spin as he realize that he's been asleep for a few minutes-yet even so, it still felt as if he had been hospitalized and slept for a week.

The entirety that is his surroundings are covered in flames.

He realizes something.

His mind is slow. He was just about to get up and now he's running.

He runs towards an opening in the hotel; probably caused by an explosion.

He runs past the shadowy, transparent silhouettes of soldiers that are standing straight, lined up on the wall to his right that is intensified by the sun's rays, a delusion, probably.

Then he stops. He just made it to the outside of the opening. A crowd is far out there; watching carefully

Mom.

It's his mom! The Fox can see her. She is far away, but so close at the same time. It clears his mind.

What was his mom doing here? She was here to help him with his tainted, poor self. Yes, that must be it.

The delusions of soldiers is gone now. His mom is here to help him through this. With her help, he could get better.

So he runs, runs so fast that his legs feel like they are just a blur against the ground as his boots repeatedly hit the ground. Miles doesn't feel the need for bloodlust or explanation if he could just hug his mother and tell her that he was just so scared of himself, that he didn't know what to do, that he could be a good boy if someone could just help him. He wanted to wring the fabric of her shirt underneath his grip and cry like he did when he was smaller, clutching to her as he cried his poor soul out.

He was so close now.

Then.

A Blackhawk helicopter pulls his attention, was it there the entire time? The side door opens to reveal a gunner on the minigun. He tries to run even faster as the spotlight fixates itself on him, highlighting his person. It was directly to his right.

The minigun spins up.

Tail's foot pushes against the ground.

The gunner fires. Strafing the gun in a horizontal line. Following his progression to the crowd.

Miles hits the ground harder than before, not of his own will as he garners new bullet holes. His right arm is considerably torn by the heavy munitions as is his left leg. The arm in question is barely stringed to the rest of the shoulder. Grunting in pain, the Fox clutches the arm in horrid torrents, grasping and then not grasping. He is impeded by the gunner, his goal was so close. He reaches an arm out to his mom as soldiers surround him. There is no way out as all the soldiers constrict his movement and some bring even more pain to his injuries. He passes out from blood loss.

There was no way to avoid the gunner. It was clear, that man was experienced with a minigun and Miles was inexperienced in running away from one. What was he to do? Those bullets literally tore out chunks in the ground. There was no hope in jumping out of his firing range. Plus, he was in the middle of the street, how was he to succeed?

He knew that joining Sonic in that hotel had been a grave mistake. Wait, how were they? Did they die? No, the mere idea was incredulous. How was Wave though? Had she gotten out? She was behaving so weirdly too. He was so unused to her silence. Usually she would call him a name or say something vulgar about his skills, in which he would comeback with something similar yet turn her own attempt at an insult on herself, then they would share a laugh. But then she just showed up at his door. It was a good thing he avoided her advances, lest she try and take his virginity, which he was saving for someone special. Wait, how had his thoughts lead him to sex? Focus Miles, focus, now where was he?

He opened his eyes to a dark metal clad room. The ceiling wasn't that far off, and the table which he was lying on was white, while a light emitted from the inside of the table and projected outwards against his back. Where was this? Then he noticed the little detail and lost his shit. His arm and leg had been completely repaired. And he was nude. Why was he nude?

A bright light flashed and blinded him. It was coming from some sort of window that was melded with the metal. A speaker came on. A woman had spoken up apparently. But he didn't hear her. Only speaker feedback. Then he made out the shapes of the people from behind the glass. It looked like the woman was smacking the speaker again and again looking quite frustrated. Well, it looked like he wasn't the only one with communication problems. Aw yeah! Then he mentally face palmed, as his appendages were being restrained at the moment. God damn it, this wasn't the time to be joking around. Then she pointed to the speaker and pointed to one of the men, he nodded. The formal dress attire she was wearing only made her look all the more serious. She reached a hand into her vest, pulled out a pistol and shot him in the head. Well that escalated quickly. Now she had a man come over and fix it.

It sputtered again. "Hello terrorist and welcome! You are on death row for bombing the entire hotel." the woman had gingerly spoke.

"You have got to be kidding me! I'm not a fucking terrorist. I had nothing to do with the hotel bombing!" He yelled back.

"We already knew that. But a rowdy terrorist is a bad one-" Electric volts flashed through his body as he shook.

"Continuing on, we hope you please co-operate so that-oh fuck it, I can't even keep that up for too l-"

She was interrupted as Miles began to shake even more. "Did you guys switch off the electricity yet?"

They all nodded. Then the unspeakable happened, "LOOKS LIKE I'M ALL JUICED UP! PARTY TIME, BITCH!" Tails had shouted as his eyes pooled into red from blue and he broke his restraints. He immediately launched for the window.

She had gasped at first, slightly perturbed, but laughed. "You can't break this glass, its bullet proof." She had stated matter-of-factly. To which he responded, "There is no such thing as 'bullet-proof', only bullet resisting! AND MY ARM'S A FUCKING ROCKET LAUNCHER!" Miles laughed manically as he sailed through the air in something akin to slow motion, as he suspended in mid-air to come down like a military barrage with his arms coming down from behind his head.

When he impacted his arm against the glass, something happened; it started vibrating very quickly, while the woman just glared at him hard before exiting the room, the rest of the staff stayed behind, some panicking, while others just stared in awe, some even resorted to calling down some reinforcements. He hadn't caused any true damage yet, but they would need guards to restrain him.

Now the glass was vibrating and if Miles wanted to break it, he would have to match the rhythm in which the glass would shake towards him and towards the staff (like if you wanted to jump higher on a trampoline, you would have a pause in the air and continue bouncing, like in little big planet) So he gave another punch and the glass was acting sporadically. A few more and it would eventually break.

The next blow was with his forehead, uncaring that his head was now bleeding.

Footsteps could be heard outside the room he was in. Looks like they called in the cleanup crew.

He slammed the glass so hard with his hand that when it broke, it flew with such velocity that it killed some of the men in the room. The Vulpine quickly vaulted into the room. The others panicked and ran, hoping to avoid death. While Tails was busy with where he was supposed to go from there, a grenade had just been tossed into the room he was in, which was quite small if you took into account that 6 people were stationed In a 'U' formation, with the top of the 'U' as the exit. Luckily for him, it was a flash bang. Unluckily for him, he was now blind and his mind cleared.

"Holy crap!" was the only response he could give in reaction to the grenade's results. He heard movement and realized that the restraint-shitheads had arrived. So the Fox did the only thing he could do; hide. The Prower slipped into a vent that was nearest, trying his best to avoid all the circuitry and such, he slipped around the corner so that they wouldn't see him at first glance. He would have to bide his time, then get all the answers by slowly and tactically planning out his moves. Yes, that's what he'd do, wait for an opening and then take it. Shouting is heard outside the vent, in a very different language.

They don't find him. He lets out a breath of relief and relaxes, he would need the strength to carry out the already-formulating plan in his head.