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[Star Wolf]

Hello everyone, new here to the site but thought I'd bounce these four segments off you. These segments (from an ongoing fanfic novel I've decided to write) take place a couple of months after season two, The Wolf and Tails probably being the best. I've decided to post them physically due to the modern mistrust of downloads. If this is problem let me know and it won't happen again. Promise.

**Edit** "Massive" in first paragraph changed to "titanic"...lol
**Edit2** Spacing of certain melded paragraphs. "Did not" in Robotnik's bit changed to "didn't"...zzz
**Edit3** Sentence in Snively changed to "that would open the **cruising** hover tank’s hatch" to imply movement...yeah I've lost it.

Prologue:


The giant battle station orbited Mobius, a metal god of war floating in the icy grip of space. Star light loaned it a steely glint. Titanic and spherical, it contained power unimaginable, an evil egg whose silvered, armored shell threatened to hatch Armageddon. All it lacked was its master, to fire the massive factories and target the terrible weapons.

Nearing completion at the time of the Doomsday Project, it had been the ace up the sleeve of the tyrant Robotnik. He had intended to rule the planet from that highest and mightiest throne. Going to great lengths to ensure its existence remained a secret, progress had been slow.

Those who had fought the war against him had never known how close they came to defeat. The dictator had been cast down, but the tireless automatons aboard his ultimate weapon had labored on, the last shipment of materials already in place. Finished now, the machine awaited orders that never came.


Sonic and Sally held hands, gazing out over Mobotropolis from the highest balcony of the new palace. Dusk had fallen, transforming the city into a sea of lights. Laughter and song drifted up through the air from the festive crowds in the brightly lit streets, bringing smiles to their faces.

The capital of Mobius was slowly being restored to its former beauty and glory.

Sally wore white satin and a silver tiara, Sonic a jeweled coronet forged from a power ring. He had been crowned Prince of Mobotropolis by the people. The cavernous, torch-lit chamber behind the two rulers was furnished with white marble urns spilling over with ivy, plush burgundy carpets, a tapestry of Sally’s father, King Acorn. Two thrones occupied the upraised dais.

A sweet, cool breeze blew over the city, the air finally purged of the dark and corrosive clouds of pollution that had once corrupted it. The tyrant’s industrial complexes had been razed and his factories shut down. The smog was gone.

A city-wide celebration was about to begin. Finally freed from the oppressive rule of Robotnik, everyone was doing their best to make up for lost time. The fireworks would start soon. Fine food and strong drink would flow. They would all put the past to rest and look to a future that seemed very bright indeed.

“Still can’t believe it, Sal.” Sonic’s voice was soft with wonder and disbelief. “He’s finally gone.” The wind stirred his spikes. He had never looked more like a hero.

She turned and kissed him. Her eyes sparkled with tears as she looked into his. “Believe it, Sonic. He’s gone.”

They sidled closer to one another as the first fireworks lit up the skies.


Robotnik ran for all he was worth, breathing heavily, sweat pouring down his fat face. He tripped and hit the shining ground hard, crystal crackling and shattering under his bulk. He got up, cat quick despite his weight, sprinting again. He knew better than to look back.

With every breath he cursed the hedgehog and his band. He had ruled the whole world, had been so close to total victory. His crimson eyes burned with hatred and frustration.

The bolt of power sent him tumbling head over heels in a cloud of smoking, shimmering shards. This time his robotic arm broke his fall, grinding a glimmering outcrop of crystal to dust as he righted himself. The laughter of the wizard rang in his ears.

“Faster, you traitorous worm! If your scurrying ceases to amuse me we’ll play another game…” Another blue bolt flashed in the wake of the words but Robotnik was running again. It missed him by a hair.

It seemed he had fled from his old master for an eternity, but just when he thought it safe to rest the monster would reappear, his grotesque, gloved claw blazing with energy and a hideous grin on his horrible face.

Time was against him, he knew. He remembered what happened to those who spent too long in the void. Once the essence of the strange place had infused him he would be trapped forever. Escape would only mean death then, in the outside world he would crystallize. He had a desperate plan, but if he didn't find a vortex soon it would pointless to even try it. Oh how the hedgehog would love that, to find me frozen. He’d make me the centerpiece of a palace fountain, the laughingstock of Mobius. He could see the blue beast’s gloating grin in his mind.

Angered at such thoughts, he almost made a fatal mistake. The chasm loomed large before him, its bottom lost to blackness. He turned just in time, sliding precariously on the slick surface of the crystal, dislodging loose bits that tumbled over the edge. He lost his balance yet again as another bolt from the wizard lanced at him. It sailed over his head with an inch to spare.

Suddenly a thunderclap rent the air and a shockwave buffeted his back, knocking him over on his face. Shards and knives and slivers of crystal flew past him with deadly speed. The wind seized his cape and threatened to rip it from his shoulders. The portal, it’s behind me! But how far? Will I make it? The violet light of the vortex shone in all its brilliance around him, the crystal drinking it in and reflecting it, refracting it. Beautiful to behold but horrifying all the same, for this was his last chance.

He scrambled to his feet and turned. Naugus was floating beside him, leering down. “So close yet so far, eh traitor? I opened it for you, so you would know the despair I have known all these long years. You’ll never make it through to the world, only Sonic’s speed could do that. You’re mine…forever!”

“Curse you Naugus!” Robotnik snarled. He ran towards the vortex, and at just the moment the force of the howling wind would have brought him to a stop and shoved him back he activated the jet boosters in his shoes.

The reek of burning rocket fuel filled the air as Robotnik mentally switched the shoes to full power. He didn’t dare hope it was enough, but then he was moving forward again, gaining momentum. The wind was like a concrete wall, yet somehow he was pressing through it. The swirling violet energies of the portal engulfed him. The last thing he heard before being knocked unconscious by the battering punishment of the wind was the outraged scream of Naugus.


Robotnik awoke to the sound of singing revelers, on the night shrouded crown of a grassy hill that overlooked Mobotropolis. Panic and a burst of adrenaline brought him surging to his feet. He had made it out of the void, but if he was found out he would be dragged back to Sonic in chains. He dove into a nearby shrub just in time.

There were a dozen or so, foxes, a dog, a pig, a horse and a bear. Most held drinks, but the pig played a carved flute. Soft music mingled with the chirping of crickets in the warm summer night air. He gritted his teeth and held his breath.

When they were safely past he extricated himself from the shrub, but his cape caught on a branch and tore loudly. He froze, augmented ears straining.

They had failed to hear him.

He laughed, nervousness and triumph in the sound. Within moments he had vanished into the nearby woods, sparing only one hate laden glance at the shining lights of his former city, where his great enemy and all who dwelt there celebrated his supposed demise.


Snively:


Snively donned his communications helmet and lowered its purple holo-visor down over his eyes. Simultaneously he hit the floor pedal that would open the cruising hover tank’s hatch. Keeping the war machine sealed was safer, but the armor’s electronics and his recent firings of the main gun had combined to make the interior sweltering. He turned a crank on the side of his command chair, raising himself up until he was seated comfortably halfway out of the hatch.

The cool night air washing over him was a great relief, yet that relief was tainted with his ever present fear. When he fled Robotropolis after Robotnik’s defeat he had taken an armored battalion with him, intending to carve out a kingdom somewhere far, far away from Sonic. Yet those who had suffered under the regime he had helped build didn’t just want him gone, they wanted revenge.

The freedom fighters had dogged his force all the way from the outskirts of the city in a running battle that had spilled into the surrounding woods and hills. He had lost several tanks and close to a hundred SWATbots, but he refused to surrender. If his army could reach the plains to the east the superior firepower of his minions would be more than adequate to win the fight and he would be safe. All that stood between him and those plains was a few more miles of forest, shrouded in darkness.

He wiped the sweat off his face with a cloth from his jacket pocket, his eyes searching for foes between the myriad trunks of the trees. The thrumming drone emanating from the war machines ahead and behind was reassuring, proof that the strong, armored fist of his battalion was in well-oiled and working order. In their wake marched the surviving SWATbots, their glowing crimson visors reminiscent of foxfire in the gloom. The bots scanned right and left constantly, ever alert. He wondered if perhaps, at last, the enemy had given up and decided to leave him alone.

As if such thoughts were a signal a flash lit up the night and a rocket flew from the shadows ahead of the column. The lead tank vanished in a bloom of orange flame with a boom and a crash, the ammunition it carried detonating a second later in an explosion twice as brilliant. A wave of heat hit Snively like a slap and left him reeling.

“All units, attack, attack! Fire at will!” he screeched, his booted foot fumbling for the panic bar. He triggered it and his chair dropped back down into the tank with bone jarring force, the hatch slamming shut with a clank.

SWATbot lasers tore into the darkness, blue and deadly, flying in all directions. The forest flared scarlet as one of the tanks found targets, the mighty blast from its main gun turning the ground around the bazooka wielding guerillas to glass. Several trees in the radius of the impact ignited and suddenly burning leaves were falling and fluttering everywhere.

A hail of bullets and plasma bolts struck back at the SWATbot formation, the robotic soldiers falling like wheat before a scythe. Several exploded, showering shrapnel and taking out others near them. The rest of the bots scattered, seeking targets of their own or cover behind the adamantine bulk of the armored battalion.

Just as quickly as the engagement began it ended. The column had ground to a halt, the smoldering wreckage of the lead tank blocking the way forward. The only things that moved were the falling leaves, the flames and the heads of the SWATbots as they scanned for enemies. Snively shook with rage.

“Status report,” he hissed into the helmet. He didn’t want to know how many more troops he had just lost, but he needed to know.

“Twenty-six SWATbot units eliminated, Sir,” the robotic voice was emotionless and maddeningly calm. “One Hover Tank eliminated. Remaining force count: fifty-six SWATbot Units, nine Hover Tanks, one Command Tank.”

Snively seethed. Over half the force he had commanded upon fleeing from Robotropolis had been destroyed. The freedom fighters had decimated his army, striking like vipers and vanishing like smoke. His only consolation was that it had cost them.

“Resume course,” he said, fist clenched. He resisted the urge to hit something. The next war machine in line swung around its destroyed twin and struck it a glancing blow, shrugging the charred husk aside with the shrill scream of metal on metal and a burst of sparks.

Not five minutes had passed when his battered force once again shivered to a halt. He suppressed a scream of rage. “What is it now!? Why have we stopped!?”

“Voice Override V6RZ, Sir,” responded the inflectionless robotic voice. Dread and outright horror flooded Snively. It can’t be!

“Source!” he demanded, his voice panicky. “Show me the source!”

A nearby monitor switched from a dull readout to the camera feed of the lead tank. Standing in the glare of its headlights, like a nightmare given life, was Robotnik.


The Wolf:


You’ll lose. You always do.

The wolf had one eye, the other was a blind white orb hidden by a grimy black leather patch. The words she had spoken cut him still, a razor as sharp as yesterday’s regrets.

It wasn’t true, he knew. He had won his share of battles, lost his share too.

His jet fighter had gone down in the ocean of grass the Mobians called the Emerald Plain, home to the ruins of a dozen cities of as many ancient races. They had lost in the end, the battle to survive, the war to stand the test of time. It brought him little comfort.

Flying for Snively had been stupid, he was more sure of that than he was of most everything else. The little man had offered him a fortune to keep the new air force occupied, so that he could make good his escape. So the wolf had done it, launching his fighter unauthorized from the new airbase in Mobotropolis. Four of the eight new jets had come after his, their pilots calling him traitor, filth and worse over the radio. He had shot down three, then the fourth got a lock. You’ll lose. You always do.

He had asked her for forgiveness, once, before leaving the Wolf Pack for good. Her response had been laughter, brittle and cruel. He didn’t think he hated anyone in the world as much.

He hadn’t betrayed them for money. She was there in the city, a royal advisor now that the war was over. Sonic valued her counsel rather highly, she had helped destroy the Doomsday Device after all. She had counseled against giving him his wings, too. He supposed Sonic trusted her more than ever now. She had won, he had lost.

He scowled darkly, sadness and anger filling him up until he thought he would drown in it. The tall grass rippled in the wind, like the waves of a great green sea. No end to it was in sight.

The cut on her cheek could have been worse than a scar. She would have lost for the last time, if not for him. If he had a time machine he believed he would have travelled back, took the place of his younger self, and let her walk into the trap. The ambush had been a masterpiece. Robotnik must have been fuming, when he lost.

She had loved him, once. His days had been so bright, even in the endless night that was the war for freedom. He supposed it was just the way life was, the more you gained the more you had to…

It had been two days since he had a drink of water. He ate the grass but he wasn’t meant to live on that sort of thing. He didn’t think he’d make it out of here, facing a walk of a hundred miles or more. It depressed him and infuriated him in equal measure, because then he’d finally prove her right. If he never fought again he could never win.

When he saw the tanks and SWATbots he was quite surprised. They moved at walking pace, in a ragged column. He thought it was about half a battalion. Snively had taken quite a beating, despite being free of Sonic’s new-fangled airpower.

The dark steel of their armor was a stark contrast to green, at this distance the small army looked like a line of ants. He wondered if the little man would offer aid or just put him out of his misery. He suspected it would be the latter. Though his mission had been a success the last thing he expected was gratitude.

He set out to meet them anyway. There would be an end to all this, either way. Thirst was a terrible way to lose.

They deployed into an attack formation when he was sighted, the tanks picking up speed and flattening the grass, which sprang up again in their wake. The SWATbots kept up as best they could, fanning out and seeking what the grass might conceal. The wolf felt very tired but he found the strength to put his hands up.

The biggest, nastiest looking tank stopped just short of plowing him under. He looked up at its black bulk but felt no fear. She had left him an empty shell, he had wondered for the longest time how he could live without a heart.

The hatch opened. Shock made him lower his hands, his eye widening.

“And what do we have here, eh? Lost your friends, you wretched freedom fighter? Don’t worry. We’ll take good care of you.” Robotnik’s evil laughter boomed across the plains, grating to his ears. The SWATbots leveled their rifles, aiming for his head. The wolf felt a strange calm, surprised to realize he was smiling. Well, knew it would happen. But maybe now that he’s back he can make her lose…

Snively climbed out after Robotnik, looked down at the wolf. “Sir, that one’s on our side! He’s a renegade fighter pilot.” The little man’s voice raised the wolf’s hackles. It had a nasally quality that had always struck him wrong. “He helped me get out of Mobotropolis before the hedgehog’s jets could scramble, sir. Shot down three, I saw it on radar. He could be…useful.”

The words didn’t give him much hope. Robotnik hardly ever listened to his nephew.

Robotnik’s robotic hand went to his double chin and his eyes narrowed, their bright crimson light boring into the wolf as they studied him. “Oh is that so? And why would you betray your friends, wolf? Are you a mercenary? A fool?”

He knew what he said next would determine his fate. He almost told the fat man something insulting. Has she taken that much of me, that I would throw it all away? He decided that she had, but then her words came back to haunt him yet again. “I want revenge,” he said simply, “against Lupe.”

Robotnik’s expression changed, from one of contempt to one of thoughtfulness. For a moment he thought he could even see a speck of sympathy. Of course. The hedgehog he hates more than anything in the universe. He lives and breathes vengeance. He almost burst out laughing, but knew that would be the end. He would have his chance at her after all.

I’ll win. I always will. I’m coming back for you, then you’ll wish I’d never saved your miserable life.

[fishtheimpaler]

Pretty nice start. Could be good!

[Star Wolf]

Thanks, sorry I haven't posted anything new. Something of a crisis in my life, won't bore anyone with the details. Appreciate what you said, Fish. You're the third person who actually bothered to say anything about it, in combination with a couple of more on another site.

Anyway, "Tails" which I deleted somehow for some reason, and a new one from Lupe's perspective. I realize this stuff is moving further and further away from the spirit of the cartoon. Don't know if that's good or bad. I get very little feedback. Whether folks are just reading it and laughing or liking it I don't really know, aside from you. Did my best, anyway.


Tails:


Tails dreamed a terrible dream.

A huge diamond glass window framed Mobius, the planet’s light painting the metal chamber a ghostly blue. Robotnik was a giant twenty feet tall, holding Sonic in a grip of steel.

“Help me, Tails!” Sonic shouted, struggling vainly to free himself.

Dread filled the young fox. He tried to take to the air but he found his tails coated in mega-muck. Noooo!

The thunder of the giant’s laughter crashed over him. Then Robotnik lifted the hedgehog to his massive mouth and swallowed him whole.


Tails awoke screaming. He sat bolt upright in his bed in the palace, eyes wide. Just a dream. It was only a bad dream. His breath came in quick, short pants. One shaking hand went to his forehead, the other reaching for a glass of water on the nearby nightstand.

The carved white oak door opened suddenly, a royal guard rushing in with his gun drawn.

“Are you alright, young sir?” the husky asked him, eyeing the shadows.

Tails laughed weakly. “I’m fine. It was only a nightmare…”

The husky nodded, his grey eyes sad. “A lot of us have been having them, young sir. It was a dark time we all went through. Don’t you worry, it’s all over now.”

Tails thanked him and the guard left, closing the door softly behind him. The fox didn’t get any more sleep that evening. He slipped out his window instead, flying into the wasteland known as the Industrialized Zone.


He found an intact roboticizer beneath the ruins of Robotnik’s wrecked citadel, after hours of exploring dark and gloomy underground tunnels. The subterranean complex was unstable, the surface structure a pile of rubble that had been demolished by explosives. It was a miracle that the chamber in which the roboticizer was housed hadn’t been buried, though its floor was littered pieces of concrete and other debris. It’s fate. Has to be.

He worked through the rest of the night on the power systems. Back when those who fought for the freedom of his world had left Knothole, left him, the long hours and the longer waits had crept by. The kindly walrus Rotor had known his trouble and offered to teach him about machines, so that he could help in his own way. Now there was almost nothing he couldn’t fix.

Rotor had called him a natural.

The roboticizer hummed to life, a shimmering column of energy crawling with blue electric bolts rising up from pad. The static it emanated made his fur stand on end. He didn’t hesitate. He took his tails, his namesake, in his hand and touched their tips to the force field of the roboticizer.

The crippling pain sent him stumbling backward. The pad hissed and spat cerulean sparks, crackling.

He shook off the agony and looked over his shoulder, down at his tails. In the place of fur and flesh was cold grey steel.

Will they work like I thought? He twirled them experimentally. They turned smoothly and tirelessly like a turbine. He couldn’t feel them, but could control them somehow.

The sapphire light of a SWATbot laser blew up the roboticizer. The blast sent him tumbling through the air like a leaf in a gale. Blue beams raked the chamber as more of the bots opened fire, melting machinery and heating the plating of the chamber’s walls white hot.

He picked himself up, shocked and stunned. Then shock gave way to anger, the nightmare coming back to haunt him. I’m not powerless, I’m not! For the first time in his life he found his teeth bared in a snarl. The anger had turned into fury.

Instead of spinning his tails overhead as he did to fly he stood on his tip toes and spun them directly behind him like a plane’s propeller, so fast that they became a blur. Then he was rocketing forward and charging straight for the SWATbot squad, his velocity approaching the speed of sound. The air in his wake became a spiraling vertical hurricane, drawing in debris.

The SWATbots fired their weapons relentlessly but he closed too quickly, one laser passing so close to his cheek that it singed his fur. Then he was racing between their ranks and the whirlwind trailing him hit them. A storm of concrete, steel and glass came with it and tore the SWATbots apart.

He was already halfway down the exit tunnel when the explosions of their destruction rocked the ruins. Already in shambles, what was left of the citadel shook and began to crumble. The corridor imploded, pipes and shattered masonry crashing down. He outdistanced it all, blasting out of the tunnel and into the morning light with the wind howling in his ears. He had never moved this fast, except when he had held Sonic’s hand.

I’ll be there for you. Like you always were for me. I promise!



Lupe:


Lupe drank deep, the iciness and heat flowing through her. The casino’s bar was brightly lit with neon blue, red, purple and green, turning the shelves of bottles on the wall into a sparkling rainbow. The clamor of the gambling masses that crowded around the flashing slot machines and card tables was charged with every spectrum of emotion, from joy to outrage.

She came here almost every night, finding the chaos a sort of salve for her broken heart. At least it took her mind off things, sometimes. Tonight wasn’t one of those times.

You creep, she thought, first you cost me my brother, now you pull a stunt like this. I wonder if you made it out, or is that jet your grave?

A wolf a few seats down kept looking at her, tongue lolling. She frowned at him and ordered another drink, pushing the empty glass away. For just an instant she thought her admirer was wearing an eye patch. She blinked and it was gone. He had two eyes, amber in color, not amethyst.

The portly otter tending the bar studied her closely, then nodded and set down the refill. She had been here awhile, far longer than usual.

It had been three months since Robotnik had been overthrown. She suspected that the otter had become a very good judge of when someone had sailed too far out into the proverbial sea.

The neon lines and signs around the bar began to blur. She hardly noticed. She forced herself to focus on the issues facing the city. Better to dwell on the future than the past.

Reconstruction would take years, even then Mobotropolis would never be the same. Skyscrapers and paved streets had replaced marble and cobble stones. Torches had been supplanted by an electrical grid that powered a million lights. All of it was the legacy of the city’s industrialization, courtesy of the deposed dictator.

The casino itself hadn’t existed before, but now it offered its vices to everyone. A hundred neighboring ones just like it comprised what had become known as the Casino Night District. Antoine’s brilliant idea. Give the people a distraction, he said. Well now they’ve got one.

An evening never went by around here without some sort of trouble.

The city had ballooned in size under Robotnik, as well. To get from place to place people had started using hover cars, which were being mass produced by converted factories.

The tyrant had left his mark. In contrast King Acorn had resisted the effects of modernization vigorously, though the breakthroughs in robotics and other technologies could have easily brought about the transformation that had become a reality now.

She knew there had been reasoning behind that, not just empty aesthetics. Appointed the chief of the Mobotropolis police force, she understood the consequences more than anyone. The populace had been a tight knit community before. As they grew apart, disorder grew more commonplace. The fact that most of them had spent over a decade as robot slaves to a madman made things much worse than they might have been.

“I couldn’t help but notice that you were drinking alone, beautiful.” The words were slurred and about as unimaginative as she would expect. She glanced over at the wolf who had been watching her. He had seated himself next to her and she hadn’t even noticed.

She looked down at her glass and realized she had already finished off the refill. Somehow she didn’t think the otter would be impressed or receptive if she asked for another.

“I’m done and I don’t like you, so get lost.” she said, her voice a steely growl. She got up and removed her grey trench coat from the chair’s back, shrugging into it. He took in the scar on her cheek and the look in her eyes, left without a word. The fear she had seen on his face made her feel guilty.

Has the war changed me that much? How did I get so angry over that? The room revolved around her for a moment before it slowed and finally stopped. The regret over how she had treated him lingered. He was young, he didn’t deserve that.

She picked her way through the raucous crowds and headed for the exit.


Two police cruisers were parked outside the casino. At first she didn’t understand why they were there, then she heard the grief filled rant.

“Where’s my wife? Where? I went to the palace and they swear…they swear everyone they could find was de-roboticized…” The cheetah trailed off and began to sob. His jacket was horribly wrinkled and it reeked of gin.

Four officers surrounded him, looking disturbed and pained. Two were bears, one a pig. Their corporal was a slim, grey fox.

The corporal put a hand on the cheetah’s shoulder. “Sir, I don’t know where your wife is but…” He never got a chance to finish. The disheveled citizen’s face twisted into an expression Lupe had seen before. He’s snapped.

The cheetah’s hand moved so quick she didn't even see him reach into his jacket. Suddenly he was holding a glock. His fangs were bared in rage.

The corporal was faster. He grabbed for the gun and forced the cheetah’s aim upward. The glock went off with a sound like thunder. A bright neon sign across the street flickered and exploded in a nova of hot sparks. Bystanders ran, some of them screaming.

The cops wrestled the weapon from him. The dull buzz of the pig’s stun gun put an end to it. Suddenly the cheetah was on the ground and losing consciousness, a thin rivulet of drool glistening at the corner of his mouth. “My wife…where…”

They picked him up and put him in the cage of one of the cruisers.

She sighed heavily and stumbled over to them, reaching for her badge. A minute later the second cruiser was taking her to toward the palace. The sky above the plated towers reddened, dawn breaking. All she could think of was her bed. She hoped she would dream no dreams.

[RedAuthar]

Haven't read through all of it yet, but from what I've read I'm impressed.

[Star Wolf]

Thanks, Red. Know its alot. Got more into it all than I thought, and made some promises to folks to finish it on top of that. As an actual novel its gonna get longer, but at least I'm almost to the point where I can start bringing the perspectives together...

[fishtheimpaler]

Continues to be good! I like your style, and any objections I would have to it would be largely matters of taste.

I don't mind a change in tone from the show myself; I actually like the idea of the show more than the show itself. Still, though, if you're continuing from the show and not actually rewriting the backstory, I might think more carefully about how things are developing. Mobius becoming more Earth-like as the mobians adapt Robotnik's human technology, with accompanying social disruption, is an interesting device, but the mobians would be in control of how the tech is appropriated. Casinos springing up like weeds for an exhausted, displaced populace badly wanting distraction from the recent horror, yes. Calling a gun a "glock," however--twentieth century brand name for a particular gas-propellant pistol design--sticks out like a sore thumb. And would guns be available to the general populace? Does Mobius have a second amendment? It appears to have at least a potentially authoritarian tradition of government (no one ever mentioned a parliament to go with King Acorn), and unless everyone's got reason to be afraid of a resurgent Robotnik, arming the entire population might be an step that Sally and Sonic would resist. Not saying there might not be a good reason for them--policy-wise, or maybe after years of survivalism in the forest the population has become a little too self-reliant and unruly for a monarchy to control--but just be careful to think about things like this before adapting a scene you could imagine going off in modern New York or Las Vegas the like.

There's some character touches in the new stuff that are kind of questionable without further setup. I'm surprised that anyone would be willing to roboticize themselves, partially or wholly, for any reason after Robotnik's reign. I would imagine there would be a massive social stigma attached to it and probably a deeply ingrained fear of it in most individual's psyches. I'm remembering the captured Tails's piteous plea to Uncle Chuck that he doesn't want to be a robot! and finding him sticking his tails (what he's named for! what makes him special!) in a roboticizer unthinkable. It needs more setup, which you may be planning on. Maybe some more setup or explanation with Lupe, too--the wolves were faux native Americans driven off their land by robots instead of the US army cavalry; why isn't there a strong social pressure to return to it now? Can they return? Have the wolves changed because of the war? Why?

Keep up the good work!

[Star Wolf]

Wow, shot down.

Seriously though, excellent criticism and I appreciate the fact that you are a professional writer and that you took the time. I'll try to fix some things, and am mindful of the future.

Your own work is very good, by the way.

In any case here's a segment marginally more "canon". I want to start releasing these in twos so people can kick back and read for a bit, so this is probably the last single.


King Acorn:


King Acorn stared sullenly out into the glassy wastes, his blue eyes radiating despair and frustration.

I’m so sorry, Sally. Putting my faith in him caused such pain. I can never set it right.

He shivered, though the air was not cold. Nor was it hot. The void was a horrible place, it offered only the bland constancy of crystal.

He had stopped counting the days of his imprisonment. Somewhere out there in the distance was a tall crag, shaped like a fang, where for years he had marked their passage, one after the other. Then the years themselves had begun to bleed together, into an endless eternity. He had lost all track of time. Time had no meaning here.

Time is a lie, he thought angrily. There is only now, our memories exist only to haunt us. To remind us of our mistakes, to taunt us with what has been lost, with what we would have be once more.

He drew his dagger and scratched what he had just realized into the crystal. There were a thousand such places, where his scribbling marred the landscape. He’d revisit them every now and then.

Some of the ravings he had carved in his darkest moments scared him. Those he avoided. One of the most treasured inscriptions he visited every day. It read simply: “Hugged my daughter today. I won’t give up.”

I had it all. I misplaced my trust. I won one war and lost another…

He felt the tap on his shoulder and rose to his feet in a rush, spinning on his heel. Fear made him raise the dagger but an invisible force ripped it out of his grip and sent it flying into the wastes.

Naugus chuckled, the sound raspy and unsettling. The old wizard’s wrinkled face was set in a grim smile and his rheumy purple eyes sparkled with amusement. “Didn’t mean to startle you, your Grace. I have good news…”

Acorn scowled. He disliked Naugus, though the strange being had left him mostly alone since he had found himself imprisoned here. His instincts nevertheless whispered dire warnings whenever he was forced to abide the wizard’s presence. “News, you say? In this place nothing ever changes, so how can that be?”

Naugus chuckled. “The crystal may not change, your Grace, but my arts work as well here as they did in the world. I’ve had a great deal of time to perfect them.” He reached into his robe and pulled forth a silver amulet, forged into the shape of a skull. The skull’s sockets glittered, chips of crystal set within them. “I made this for you. Believe me, if I could use it myself I would, but I’ve been here far longer. Even its enchantment can’t purge the essence of this place from my flesh but…”

A lifetime of statesmanship prevented a betrayal of his feelings, yet his heart began to race. He kept his face neutral. He counted it a minor miracle that his voice did not quaver when he spoke. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying, wizard? Have you finally found a way?”

The creature’s smile turned into a grin. Yellowed teeth filed to points revealed themselves from behind shriveled lips. The King thought he smelled treachery on the wizard’s bad breath, but of course that was impossible. It was only the knowledge that this gift would come with a curse.

It doesn’t matter. Not anymore. I’d pay almost any price to get out of here. What is his?

Naugus took a step closer, his voice almost mocking, but it carried an undertone of lethal seriousness. “Your Grace, you must be wondering what I desire in return. As a king, you should know that every action comes with a consequence, and everything a cost.”

Suddenly the amulet was engulfed in sorcerous blue light. It floated through the air and settled around Acorn’s neck. He felt a strange coolness oozing from the silver links of its chain through his fur, as though it were made of ice. He resisted the urge to tear it off, something about it felt wrong. It’s evil, a rogue thought whispered.

I must get home! I must!

“Say on, sorcerer. If it is something I can accomplish and this…this thing truly works…”

Naugus waved his hand in a gesture of irritation. “Yes, yes. It works. Of that you should have no doubt. But hear me, your Grace. Your realm is in greater danger than ever. You were too busy scratching at rocks to notice, but Robotnik was trapped here for a time, has come and gone…”

Strange, he thought, with unearthly calm. The wasteland had taken on a reddish tint and began to pulse. His hands were fists so tight he knew he had cut his palms.

The wizard had more to say, and only afterward did Acorn learn the price of the amulet. It was terribly high and he didn’t care. But then, he would know I couldn’t refuse. Clever monster.


He followed Naugus to the top of a tall, shining hill. At the crest sat a crude sled, carved from crystal.

“Surely you jest,” the King said, when he saw it.

Naugus smiled an ugly smile. “No, your Grace. In you go.”

When Acorn hesitated the same invisible force that had snatched his dagger seized him bodily and he drifted through the air and into the sled.

Before he even realized what was happening he felt the wizard’s booted foot against his back, shoving him forward. The sled started downhill, gaining frightening speed, its smoothed underside grinding against the ground with a high pitched hiss and kicking up a storm of dust and shards. Then a thunderclap smote the air and the vortex opened ahead, purple and spiraling and beautiful.

[fishtheimpaler]

Again good! Nice job capturing the nature of the King's existence in the void. I'm curious as to how you'll assemble these.

[Star Wolf]

Here's one small segment, and as for bringing them together by the next couple they will be. I regret this took so long and that it isn't two, like I thought it would be. Demons have invaded my corner of paradise and I found myself incapable of writing a word for quite awhile...


Robotnik:


The ruins of the megacity dominated the horizon, looming over the endless grass of the Emerald Plain. Morning light stained the rusting, skeletal skyscrapers towering in its center a bloody red. Its crumbling outskirts were a jumbled devastation, piles of shattered concrete and twisted steel where buildings had once stood.

Seljak, capitol of the Great Enemy, Robotnik thought to himself grimly as he studied the ruins. He stood atop the hover tank in the balmy air, his tattered cape stirring in the breeze. Thunderheads gathered in the skies to the west, lightning flashing and dueling in their dark hearts. The rumblings of the storm were still far off, but he judged that it would be overhead by midday.

The final battle of the Great War had been waged in Seljak. He remembered it as if it had taken place yesterday.

They should have known that it was over, they should have surrendered!

The remaining enemy divisions had withdrawn from the plains to fortify Seljak instead, in a desperate bid to delay defeat. They had left him no choice but to invade the city.

The fighting had been fierce and merciless, the worst of the entire conflict.

The air had swarmed with laser beams. Earth shaking blasts from the rockets and artillery shells caused the ground to erupt everywhere at once. The heavens themselves turned black with dust and smoke, born from the flames of destruction. The tanks of both sides smashed through the wreckage, the roar of their main guns still resounded in his nightmares.

After his triumphant return some of the nobles had whispered behind his back. Butcher. That was what they called him, even though he had been their defender and protector. All he had done was his duty, what had been asked of him. War’s reality was far beyond the vain imbeciles infesting King Acorn’s court, it didn’t really matter to him what they thought.

Then he had learned from an informant that Acorn himself was one of the whisperers.

What the king had said enraged him still. “I would have conducted matters quite differently, had I been there. His species is violent, it only stands to reason he would choose slaughter over surrounding the city and patiently awaiting the enemy’s surrender. It was my mistake for relying on that violence. My desire to win and protect the people blinded me to the consequences…”

The sharp crack of thunder sounded in the distance. The tempest was closer now, the breeze had turned to a steady wind. His cybernetic eyes narrowed.

As if he knew better than I, cloistered in his palace, safe and warm in that winter of death and pain. How does one surround a megacity with twenty thousand? It would have been a disaster, and Mobotropolis would be in ruins, not Seljak.

When he had heard of the king’s criticism he underwent a transformation, experienced a revelation. He realized then that power belonged to those ruthless enough to wield it, those who would let nothing stand in the way of victory. He had saved them all and his reward was to have been demotion to Minister of Science and the dismantlement of the war machine he had created for the kingdom’s defense.

Butcher. The word was a simple one, seven letters that declared him bluntly as a monster. In the end he supposed he had proved them correct, but he harbored no regrets over Seljak. Only over his service. It was his right to rule, his destiny.

He sneered and jumped down off the hover tank, landing heavily and crushing the grass beneath his feet. He turned and slammed his robotic fist into the side of the armor, a mighty blow that left a deep dent. I had the planet in the palm of my hand until the hedgehog pried it from my fingers!

“S-sir,” Snively called down, “the calibrations are complete, sir.”

He smiled and looked up. His nephew’s face was sweaty and his eyes fearful. “Excellent. How long until we can send the command?”

Snively swallowed. “Three h-hours, sir.”

Robotnik nodded and waved his hand in dismissal. He put his back to the armor and settled into a sitting position. He had not slept in days. Usually the past did not return to haunt him, he was convinced it was just the fatigue.

In three hours the Death Egg’s orbit would clear the planet’s curve and the short range communication system in the tank would reach it with his orders.

[Star Wolf]

After this they're coming together, heroes and villains respectively...

**Edit** Rain,rain rain changed to storm, tempest so forth
**Edit2** Sudden before suddenly deleted...sigh

The Clone:


The clone climbed out of the slime filled glass cylinder. The lab was dark and reeked of formaldehyde. Dead computer banks lined the walls and the floor was thick with an inch of dust.

He pulled himself over the lip of the cylinder and lost his grip, falling to the floor with a wet thud. His mind was blank, with no sense of identity, nor any idea at all of where he was or how he had come to be. He remembered the small man though.

In the past the small man would often come and visit, shrewd blue eyes and a protruding nose his most notable features next to his stature. He would stand outside the clone’s tank, smirking and nodding, studying readouts on the monitors of the computers.

It had been a long time since he had last seen the small man.

The generators had shut down two days ago and everything had gone black. He had drifted in and out of consciousness, time stretching and compressing, a second within forever and forever in a second, much as it always had since he had come to be. The small man had told him once that this was natural, mentioned that it had to do with velocity. He didn’t understand and didn’t think he ever would.

Shakily he got to his feet. Nearby on a counter top was a pair of white shoes with red stripes, next to which rested two white gloves. He crossed the room, leaving a track of slime and churned dust.

He felt better after he had put them on, for some reason. Then he caught sight of his silhouette, reflected by a tall, stainless steel cabinet to his left. A word came unbidden to his mind. Hedgehog.

Is that what I am?

He opened the cabinet, reached inside. Beakers and vials tumbled out and shattered on the floor as he searched. Finally he managed to find a towel. He scrubbed himself vigorously in an effort to get the slime off. When he was as clean as he could get he tossed the towel aside. His head swam. Where am I?

He didn’t know and he didn’t care. He just wanted to get out.

It didn’t take long to discover the blast door. It was sealed, without power whether it was truly locked or not didn’t matter. He was trapped. He would die down here, in the dark, without ever knowing who he was, what purpose he was supposed to serve. Up to that point emotions had eluded him, but he began to feel something he thought was one now.

Blank he might be, but his own instincts he understood. He realized he was angry. No, it’s more than anger. It’s rage. I’ve been left here to die…why would he do that?

Before he really knew what he would do he had an urge to jump and curl, to spin.

He leapt into the stale air and suddenly he was a saw blade, grinding and cutting into the blast door. Sparks flew and steel screamed. The dust swirled in a vortex around him. Then he was through.

He landed in the corridor beyond. Metal shavings, glowing red-hot, fluttered lazily through the darkness before they settled and cooled. The door was a gaping rent, sliced from top to bottom.

Another feeling flowed through him, his skin tingling. Satisfaction, he realized, though his face refused to smile. Somehow the emotions were disconnected, he knew what he was experiencing but it was as if he were far away, and that distance dulled them.

None of that is important. I’m free…but…what will I do now?

He considered hunting down and killing the small man for what he had done, but the more he thought about his abandonment the less sense it made. Why would he create me, just to destroy me? No, something bad must have happened to him. He would have helped me if he could have. I know it.

He decided he would just find him instead, if he was still alive. His creator had always seemed to know things beyond the clone’s understanding. He had so much he wanted to ask. He wanted explanations, answers and most of all a purpose.

Then he was running, so fast that he left the sound of his own footfalls behind in the howling wind that was his wake.


His first view of the world was pouring rain and a roiling grey sky laced with lightning.

Towers plated in metal were all around him, their many windows glowing warmly. They soared impossibly high overhead, their tops lost in clouds so dark they were almost black.

The downpour felt good, the water coursing through his fur and scouring away the last of the slime. Its coolness and the sweet taste as he drank it was something he would remember forever. He set off again afterward, racing through the storm, a line of mist ten feet tall and a hundred long behind him.

When he saw the couple his heels hit the slick asphalt of the street. The trailing mist and the splash of his crash stop washed over them and drenched them both. As before, an identifying word came to mind. Otters.

The male was fat, the female slim and shapely. They were laughing at what he had just done, they seemed to be enjoying the torrent too, at least as much as he did if not more.

“Well met, your Grace!” the fat one said. “It’s good to be wet again, every time it rains we…” he trailed off and his expression shifted from joviality to concern. “Your Grace, your fur is…black. And your eyes, why are they purple?”

He didn’t know what the otter was talking about, or why the other kept calling him graceful. He decided to just ask what he had meant to ask in the first place. “Do you know where the little man has gone, otter? Does he still live?”

Puzzlement and the beginnings of an emotion he didn’t recognize shone in the eyes of the otters. The fat one was speechless, mouth agape, so the female answered. “The little man? If you mean that monster Snively, he…he fled to the east, don’t you remember?” Her face changed, as if she had come to a sudden conclusion. She began to tremble.

Fear, he realized. He had never felt that, wondered if he ever would. He doubted it.

“What’s wrong with you,” the clone asked. Is my appearance that frightening? If it is why didn’t they react this way to begin with? The world made less sense to him every second.

The male seemed to snap out of whatever had afflicted him. “N-nothing’s wrong, your Grace. We’ll…uh…be on our way now. Enjoy the weather, your Grace.” With that they hurried off, not looking back. They hadn’t gone far when they began to run.

He let them go. He had learned what he needed to. So that’s your name. Snively. Fled, they said, but why? I’ll know soon enough. I understand now what you meant when you said “velocity”. Those creatures were slow, so slow. I must be the fastest thing alive.

The clone used his innate sense of direction and turned east. The street was wide and straight, glistening in the rain. I’ll find you…father.

[Star Wolf]

Sonic:


The tempest raged, a thunderclap sending a shudder through the marble of the palace. The screen Sonic stared into flickered, the green text wavering.

So many missing. There must be ten thousand names here. Where are they? What did that fat freak do with them all?

Sally and Nicole had no answers. He didn’t have any either.

Rotor was of the opinion that there had been a secret project Robotnik had never gotten a chance to finish, that the missing were laborers that had been put to work on it. Whatever it was. Lupe thought the worst, that they would never be found. Bunnie and Antoine didn’t seem to have time for speculation, ever since the Great De-roboticizing they had hardly been seen, though when they were it was always together.

He shut down the computer, catching a glimpse of his face in the empty blackness of the monitor. He was glaring. The coronet was askew on his brow, giving him a rakish appearance.

Ruling is way past uncool. So much to worry about…and not a whole lot you can do about it.

The high council would be gathering in the throne room, to discuss the future, pass new laws, try to fix matters so complicated that most days he wanted to cast the responsibility aside and run endlessly away, never looking back. It just gives me a headache. I’m all for helping everyone but being a prince...it’s torture.


They were waiting for him when he emerged from the hidden doorway behind a tapestry. The torches lent strange shadows and angles to their faces. Sally sat at the head of the rectangular oak table, a faraway look in her eyes. Antoine and Bunnie were whispering softly, leaning sideways towards eachother in their chairs, their faces so close they could have kissed. Rotor slumped in his seat, his chin resting on his fist. Lupe was hung over, her trench coat rumpled as if she had slept in it, her tarnished badge so loosely clipped it was almost upside down. Uncle Chuck, more formally known as Sir Charles, was dozing.

The great minds of the realm, he thought to himself cynically. Two so in love that they miss half the meetings, an inventor that works eighteen hours a day with my uncle, both of them so tired they’re falling asleep, a guerilla chief who just wants to go home and could probably care less about the city’s problems…and the light of my life, running it all. And then there’s me, with no patience for any it. How did we all get into this mess?

Sally saw him and brightened. “Sonic! Where were you?”

He sighed. “Going over the MIA list, Sal. Ever since they brought that crazy cheetah in it’s been on my mind. What I’d give to just have old Robuttnik to deal with again.”

Sally scowled and shook her head. “Careful what you wish for, Sonic. We’re all struggling here, and I know the situation isn’t perfect but…can’t you be grateful, at least a little?”

A year ago he would have replied with an instant no. “If it makes you happy…” he said instead.

Sally growled in exasperation.

Rotor chortled, Antoine and Bunnie broke the spell cast by their own company and looked towards him. Lupe stared into nowhere, though one of her ears turned in his direction. The snoring of his uncle continued unabated.

The purple light of a void vortex ripped into existence with a violet flash, a howling wind snuffing out several torches. Something emerged, a glittering blur, travelling so fast that only Sonic saw what it was in its entirety.

A crystal sled landed in the center of the table and shattered. Its rider was thrown from it head first and missed colliding with Sally by less than a foot, then hit the polished floor beyond the table’s edge and rolled.

King Acorn got slowly to his feet, groaning. One of his crown’s tines had snapped in the fall. His greatcoat was torn and his expression was the picture of pain. “Damn wizard,” he muttered softly.

Sally stood so fast her chair toppled over backwards. She ran to him and wrapped her arms around him. “Father!”

The agony on the king’s face was gone in an instant. He embraced her, picked her up and held her to his chest. The warmth of his smile would have rivaled the sun and tears coursed down his face. “My daughter, alive and well! You’ve made me so proud! I’ve missed you, Sally, I…”

His next words were lost in the roar of the blast. The chamber’s outer wall vanished, blown away by a gigantic vertical beam of bright yellow brilliance. After the pulverized marble had disintegrated to dust the sprawl of Mobotropolis was revealed beyond, its many lights shining like a sea of stars. The city was storm wracked and cloaked in shadows.

In the distance another golden ray stabbed down from the sky, impossibly wide and tall, like the finger of a god. A cluster of skyscrapers flared white and fell to ruin with a rumble that shook the palace to its foundations.

Acorn lost his balance and he and Sally fell. Antoine dove from his seat and pulled Bunnie down with him, shielding her with his body. Rotor was under the table and Lupe’s fangs were bared as she crouched behind it for cover, her gun in her hand. Sir Charles watched it all grimly, tiredly, as if he had expected this all along, not bothering to rise.

A translucent colossus took shape over the city, a hologram so vast it filled the heavens. The image was Robotnik’s, grinning savagely, his blood red eyes burning with sadistic intensity. What he said boomed louder than the loudest thunder.

“CITIZENS! ROBOTOPIA IS AT HAND! YOU WILL DELIVER SONIC, SALLY, ANTOINE, BUNNIE, CHARLES, ROTOR AND LUPE TO ME OR I WILL BURN THIS PLANET TO A LIFELESS CINDER! WHAT YOU’VE WITNESSED IS BUT A FRACTION OF MY POWER! PUT THEM IN A SHUTTLE AND INTO ORBIT IN CHAINS, PROVE TO ME THAT YOU ARE WORTHY OF MY FORGIVENESS AND I…WILL SHOW YOU MERCY! HAHAHAHAHA!”

Sonic’s eyes narrowed. Back again, bigger and uglier than ever. He noticed King Acorn beside him.

“We’ll need the power stones,” Acorn said softly. “I hope you’ve kept them safe.”

[Star Wolf]

Well this isn't actually another installment yet, and I'm sorry. My dog, his name is Ambrose, has developed cancer. We grew up together, for thirteen years he's been there for me and to put it bluntly I'm a wreck. I tried to write something afterwards to take my mind off it but it all comes out like crap, and truthfully I'm spending most of my time with him or researching the condition in general. Anyway I guess I'm not going to have anything for a little while. I do have 500 words each on Tails and the Wolf respectively which I wrote before the proverbial bomb went off, I could finish them tomorrow or a week from now, no way to say.

For those of you reading this, I want you to know that I will finish it. It's just going to take a little time to accept the horror, now that I know what's going on. Furthermore I've struggled with the whole inevitable "moving on" aspect of it and I'm not sure I can do something like that, but if its the last thing I do I'm going to complete this so you folks have something to enjoy or at least laugh at heartily.

Anyway realize its been awhile so figured I should give you some reasons why. He's okay for now and the medication is helping but heck...the future isn't written, right?

[RedMenace]

I'm so sorry, man. I know what it's like to have a very sick pet and not knowing what the outcome will be. But just as you said, "the future isn't written," know that Ambrose can very well make a full recovery. Regardless of the outcome, you've got support here, man.

[Star Wolf]

Really wanted to thank you for saying that. You're a good person and you've given me hope. His condition...well going to take advice from Bambi's mother on this one. There's always hope. Some would argue hope is the most insidious evil but still haven't given it up.

Take care, my friend.

To the rest of you, if there are even any of you...still can't write. I'm sorry.

[fishtheimpaler]

It's alright. Story continues to be interesting!