Solitude
 
by -- Joseph de laCroix
 
     This story is based on characters created by Service and Games 
(SEGA), and on characters created by Archie Comic Publications, Inc.  
Any resemblance to actual characters are not coincidental.  ;)
 
     Joseph, Bahb, and all other independent creations of Joseph de 
laCroix are the copyrighted property of JoCo Inc.  Commander Packbell, 
Bookshire Draftwood, and Sandra Nightweaver are the copyrighted property 
of David Pistone.  All other fanfic characters that may or may not be 
used in this or future works are protected under their respective 
copyrights.  All other rights reserved, etc.
 
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     Autumn descended upon the Great Forest like a comforter on a tired 
kit after a long, cold day; stopping most of the rain and lowering the 
temperatures to sweater-wearing levels.  At least, it was for those
persons who wore clothing.  The leaves of the trees were just starting
to turn yellow at the fringes, and the flowers slowly started to die...
 
     Robotropolis rocked with explosions as the first advance troops from 
Knothole began to hit the first retaining walls at the 40th block 
from the Egg.  Defended with whatever Packbell had left to spare, 
casualties and fatalities rose on both sides; yet, the walls fell 
as the weeks dragged on, often lubricated with the blood and oil of 
whole battalions of soldiers.
 
     The second-to-last version of the deroboticizer software was
released, giving a needed boost to the forces in the field.  Soon almost 
80 percent of the Mobians still living had been returned to normal, and
the recovery time from the process had been shrinking exponentially.
The tops of the mountains were settled, and a path had been blazed
to the peaceful valley behind them...now, a trail was in the process
of being made from the valley floor towards the northern wastes, villages
being set up alongside the long, winding road...
 
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     Bahb worked silently in the inner depths of the Dome compound, 
preparing its final hand for the upcoming Ur'thaen attack.  The 
deroboticizer project had almost been completed, Joseph's project 
was just being polished and perfected, and its own secret plan was 
totally finished.
 
     It did a routine check of the Dome's systems as it pondered what 
had been done...despite incredible restrictions on materials and labor, 
Bahb was able to complete the `Watchtower' project in record time...
thanks to the technological advances of the Ur'thaen AI group in the 
last 300 years, as well as information quietly borrowed from the 
Keld'yrian database on the subject.  Soon the next phase of its 
plan would be ready to be activated, which would begin when Joseph's 
own plan required its aid...
 
     << "50.00000000000000% available computational resources....
49.99999999999999%....49.99999999999998%...." >>
 
     Hopefully, it would last that long.
 
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     Tails went out that morning to exercise, running around the perimeter
of the village as many times as he physically could.  His legs and 
back were hard and sculpted after nearly a half-year of constant 
work, and his tails could now flap behind him without the aid of 
a splint.  He still was unable to spin them fast enough to get 
airborne, but he could use them as prehensile appendages again without
any pain.  Another positive side effect to his physical therapy was
that his speed was beginning to slowly match Sonic's due to his work
on his legs...his reliance on his tails earlier in his life had kept
his raw potential from being fully tapped.  Now, after only six months
of training, his body was beginning to streamline and harden like 
Sonic's.  Another year of work, he figured, and he could probably 
match or even best the supersonic hedgehog's athletic ability.
 
     The cool autumn air rushed through his fur as he ran through the 
paths around Knothole, wind cooling his rapidly warming body.  
After a certain number of laps, he lept at a tree and hung from a
branch with his tails, and began doing `pull-ups' of a sort; first
by using both of them, then using one, and then the other.  He
could feel his tails grow stronger and leaner with muscle as the
regimen continued, his mental determination to fly again fueling his
youthful body into preternatural feats of strength and stamina.
 
     After that set of exercise had been completed, he flipped out of the
tree and started running again, working his heartbeat into a fast
series of pumps.  His body ached from the strain of such physical
labor, but he loved and respected the pain; the pain let him know 
he was alive, let him -feel- himself get ready to ascend into the sky.
His growing form was in the condition it was in because of the forcing
on pain upon him, and indeed his effort into exercise had shown to be
a true advantage; his awareness of the female sex had made him realise
that a tight body was a desirable one, so that also drove him to perform
mighty feats of strength.  None but Joseph could match him in physical
prowess, the teenaged fox believed, for no other had the sheer will to
make themselves over in the image of a Titan.
 
     He did some forward flips over several banks of bushes and thistles, 
doing a corkscrew spin over the last one, then broke into a hard run.
Indeed, Joseph had taught him much in the last few weeks; after 
consulting him for help involving computing, he had given the young 
student a few lessons in his style of martial arts; the Mobian version
of the name was `The Perfect Art'.  His mental quickness allowed him to 
pick up a first-level understanding of the ten-level art in a matter of 
days, while his physical form was able to take full advantage of the 
art's mental control of the body.  Hunger and physical pain soon became 
obstacles to overcome rather than impassable stumbling blocks, and 
his concentration had increased tenfold.
 
     The second level of the art would soon be reached by Tails in a 
few weeks, after the basic punches and kicks had been demonstrated to 
him.  He had gaped at Joseph's ability to shatter massive boulders with 
a well-placed punch, and awed at his skill at pushing himself beyond 
his own physical limits for short periods of time without any 
repercussions.  It was nearly magical in its power, this `Perfect Art', 
and its power was something Tails had quickly come to respect...it was 
too devestating to be used freely.
 
     Finally, Tails stopped within Knothole to refresh his body with
water.  Taking a massive drink from the town well, his body regained its 
ability to move and work like a machine, his mind sharpened and his senses
became as acute as Joseph's teaching could train them to be.  He could feel
and almost control--almost--the regeneration of his body, the growth of his
muscles.  He felt like he could conquer the world.
 
     After he had caught his breath and finished his water, he reflected
for a moment on the day's training so far, and immediately returned to
running.  The day had only just begun, after all...and his computer could 
wait for a while.
 
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     John sat in his command chair, overlooking the looming globe that was
the world of Mobius...it loomed closer and closer to him every day, yet
he had to let it escape his grasp.  For now.
 
     Ivo had become more and more fidgety as the days had gone on, he had 
noticed.  Perhaps he feared this `hedgehog' might again save the world.
 
     Bah.  If the `hedgehog', the one called `Sonic', could stop a fully 
armed Ur'thaen Planet Destroyer with a crew of several million, new and
unstoppable weaponry, a full compliment of fighters, and the infamous
Main Gun...well, it'd sure impress the hell out of him.  But John knew
far better than to even consider a non-vulpine a threat to the master
Ur'thaen race.  The only thing that had been able to defeat them was one
of their own people; no alien race could conquer them, only stalemate them
for a time.  They could not be taken prisoner, nor would they take any.
Assimilate or die, that had been their motto, and it had taken them to the
very fringes of the galaxy.  Only a ecological fad had finally defeated 
their onslaught, and it had been through deceit by the Keldy'rians, not
honorable combat, that they had been vanquished.
 
     He reclined the chair slightly, drinking from his canteen.  The 
dimly-lit bridge was only operated by a skeleton crew--the rest were 
busy preparing the ship and the fighters for the great conquest that 
laid before them.  It required little to navigate the ship at the time, 
anyway...they were gliding slowly towards Mobius, invisible to all 
sensors.  In just a few more months, the time would be right to strike...
for that would be when the Keld'yrians would be too distracted with 
the upcoming Union of Allied Worlds Summit at the far end of the galaxy.  
Despite the fact that their mere seven ships would soon fall before the 
might of the _Apocolypse_, it would be far simpler to take out this world 
as a practice run if the crew was not in a foaming berzerker rage as 
the weaponry was being tested.
 
     John finished off the canteen and put it next to his command chair.  
Quietly touching a sensor on the arm of the chair, an audio transmission 
of the latest galactic news played softly from a speaker module implanted 
in the piece of furniture.  Soon, he thought, soon he would strike...
 
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     Joseph walked through the paths of his claimed territory, deep in 
silent contemplation.  The brisk weather had forced him to don a light
blue long-sleeved shirt and a pair of jeans again, as well as his well-tended
pair of boots.  While feeling comfortable, he felt slightly hindered by
them at times during his constant practice, which made everything a bit
more challenging.  It did, however, force him to adapt and become more
resiliant to the typical failures that accompanied learning a new 
technique or a different way to use his powers.
 
     Walking through a deep area of woods, he mused about Tails.  He had 
taken him up as a part-time student recently, and hoped he would
turn out to keep the sacred skills of The Perfect Art alive after 
the alien would `disappear' for all intensive purposes after the battle.
The young kitsune had such talent, such raw desire to overcome his
handicap...and yet, Joseph saw into his body when he practiced and
knew that the nerve damage in his lower back had been too extensive.
He would not fly again without a miracle...no medical procedure,
Mobian, Keld'yrian, Ur'thaen or otherwise could do a thing about
it, and he lacked the physical resources to clone anyone at the
moment; the entire lab would have to be redesigned.
 
     Yet, the power within him cried out to set Tails right, if not just
for the sake of practice.  He knew that he could do it...he had learned
enough to be able to do such a feat with ease.  Yet, if any Mobian
concieved of his power now, the results could be disasterous for 
everything he had planned; and the stakes were too high now to risk it.
 
     He continued to walk along the trail, plunging deep into the wilds 
of the forest.  If only there was a way to use his abilities without 
-showing- that he was, some sort of way of masking his true intent behind 
mere coincidence.  Mob had no knowledge of such a skill; it never had to 
deal with such a situation in past magickal defenders' lives.  If anything
was to be done about the matter, it would be up to him.  No spirit
could help him now, no ancient book of lore.  He would have to figure
out a way to handle the situation himself.
 
     The fox stopped when he reached a clearing deep within the forest.  
A basic psychic scan showed no sentient creatures within a few miles, and
a technical examination showed not a single survelliance device.  This 
part of the forest was safe from unwanted observers, so he could continue
his practicing in the magickal arts.
 
     Sitting down on a boulder, he thought about what he wanted to do 
carefully.  A stone in the centre of the clearing sat evenly on the 
ground, some moss and other fungus growing upon it.  He wanted to set 
it on its side without any obvious magickal effect doing so.  The 
question was not if he could, but how.  Usually, he'd focus on his amulet, 
draw power from it, project a stream of orange plasma from his hand, 
encompass the rock with it, and mentally manipulate its position.
However, he wanted to do something like that without any visible evidence 
of him doing so...that was the tricky part.  He had become reliant on using 
his body to use his energy-manipulation abilities, utilizing his amulet and 
paw as a `focus' of sorts.  Now the task was to ascend above that, and do 
mystical works without any evidence of him doing so.
 
     He stared at the object for a while, resisting the urge to raise his 
hand and imagine `juice' flying from it to do his will.  He concentrated  
on his goal, but still the urge to raise his hand kept interfering.
Finally, he simply closed his eyes and meditated for a few moments,
clearing his mind of all thoughts but one; the rock lifting slightly,
moving ninety degrees, lowering, then not moving again.  The thought
crossed his mind again and again, only the effect and not the cause
occupying his full attention.  However, after about an hour had passed,
he had made no progress.  This mildly depressed Joseph, but yet he 
chose to continue trying until he got it right.  Utilizing his portable
communications unit, he left a message with Bahb to inform Sandra he 
might be gone for a few days, then requested that he not be disturbed 
until he sent a communique to Bahb that he was no longer `busy'.
 
     He deactivated the unit and returned to a full lotus position,
sitting just about five or ten yards from the rock.  Several hours passed
as the new thought pattern began to fill his relaxed mind, the unlearning 
process beginning amid already fresh perceptions on reality.
 
     After a few days, Joseph had slowly taught himself what to think when 
he wanted to do something a bit more casually...and his first test of 
his theory came with the rock he had been concentrating on the entire
time.  As the sun began to slip below the horizon on the fourth day, Joseph 
opened his eyes and stared at the rock for a few moments.  It twitched, 
then slowly lifted.  A healthy wind helped to turn it over in the air, 
then gently put it down on the ground again, pointing into the air like 
an extended index finger.
 
     He smiled to himself, then set himself to work on practicing other 
feats with his new technique...
 
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     The next morning, Bunnie rose early to take her morning
constitutional.  It was a clear and crisp morning, and a light fog hung
around the outskirts of the village like a fuzzy blanket.  Most of the
village still slept in deep, dream-filled sleep when Bunnie drank her morning
cup of coffee and put on her light coat to go on her walk, the sun 
barely creeping over the curvature of the world.  A few birds chirped
as they groggily awoke to feed, but little else but the sound of her 
own breathing met her ears.
 
     She walked from her hut through the winding path around the village
that led to the power ring pool, the cold wind striking softly against 
her neck like a steel serpent coiling around its victim.  The partially
denuded trees showed the canvas of the black-blue morning sky through a 
multicolored frame of golden, red, orange and brown leaves, only the 
faintest traces of high cloud cover occasionally marring the smooth
surface of the heavens above.  The crunching of the leaves spoke to her
in a long-forgotten primal tongue as she headed towards the glassy pool,
speaking a color commentary of her wanderings through the woods.
 
     The rabbit padded to the edge of the water, pausing a moment to 
take in her peaceful surroundings.  The area was quite beautiful in 
the early morning, especially during the autumn.  Three waxing moons
hung in the sky above the tall plateau in the background, the sounds 
of the waterfall faintly being brought to her ears by the eastern
breeze.  In the distance, the rising sun discolored the preternaturally
blue sky with reds, oranges and yellows, almost matching the falling 
leaves from the half-naked trees that surrounded the silent rabbit.  
 
     The cry of an eagle sounded through the area as it flew overhead,
heading towards the waterfall, then gaining altitude and flying over 
it, disappearing into the morning sky.  It was a beautiful world, she
thought, this Mobius...their imminent victory would be sweeter than the
purest sugar because of it.
 
     She looked into the water, seeing her own reflection clearly.  Her
body seemed to be more beautiful and precious to her each day, the 
doe's appreciation of her sensual form being sharpened by nearly a 
lifetime of roboticized slavery.  Bunnie knelt by the pool and gently
caressed the surface of the water with her paw, watching her reflection
ripple and warp from her touch.  She could dimly see the ring-generator
below, glowing with a soft light as it prepared a ring.  It would not
generate one for several more hours, she noted, but it was still a 
comforting thing to see operating properly.  For over 15 years now 
it had worked flawlessly without so much as one episode of maintanence;
Sir Charles' cunning engineering had seen to that.  It was the one 
surviving artifact from the past regime that remained and worked,
so it gave Bunnie a tie to the past...in fact, it was probably her 
last remaining tie.
 
     The doe thought back several years to something Juyalya had told
her, a thought that she had long put out of her mind.  Yet, with the 
coming victory, Bunnie allowed herself to ponder it now, during the 
one time that she felt truely at peace with herself.
 
     She had only been a child at the time, perhaps seven or eight 
years of age.  It had only been a few years since Robotnik had taken 
over, so the initial shock had finally began to wear off...leaving her
mind open to consider avenues of thought the rabbit had long overlooked.
Her mental and physical maturation also spurred on her interest to learn
of who and what she had become, and what she might have lost in the time
between her conception, her birth, and the present day.
 
     It had been a quiet autumn morning, much like the one she was 
witnessing at that very moment.  She had begun her chores early in order
to allow herself to enjoy the remainder of the day in childlike play.
While filling up the water-powered generator with spring water, she had
noticed Juyalya walking by with a load of laundry.  As she filled up the
fuel tank of the device, the old matron had begun hanging the washed 
clothes up on the line.  Bunnie had been holding the question in for 
a few days now, and since nobody else was around, she felt it was the 
right time to ask her this most personal of questions.
 
     Bunnie put the bucket back in its palce by the well, closed the 
opening on the engine, and silently reactivated it.  After she was sure
it was operating properly, she quietly padded over to Juyalya as she was
hanging laundry, and spoke.
 
     "Auntie Julie?"  She called her that because her accent twisted her
proper name into an incoherent mess, so she had simply translated the
word into something a bit more Bunnie-friendly.
 
     The kindly old female looked over to Bunnie, still managing to work
on her task.  "Yes, Bunnie?"
 
     "Can Ah ask yew a ques'tin?"
 
     "Of course you may," she stated, hanging up a pair of socks.
 
     "Where's mah brothers 'n sisters?"
 
     A tense moment passed.  Juyalya attempted to stall by throwing the
uncomfortable question back to Bunnie, while tending to a slowly-falling
t-shirt.  "Your brothers and sisters?"
 
     "Yah," she had said, "muh kin.  When Sonic last went t' Robotropolis,
he said that he ne'er saw any kid-rob'ts, only ad'lts.  Why ain't there
any of muh kin th're?"
 
     Another tense moment passed as the inevitable answer passed from 
Juyalya's lips.  "Well, Bunnie, I don't know.  I wasn't able to get 
everyone out of Robotropolis in time, even with So--Juice's and Alicia's
warning.  Maybe they got out too."
 
     "Ah hope they're o-k."
 
     "I'm sure they are, dear."
 
     She removed her paw from the water, watching the droplets fall from
her pawtips.  Before the old woman had died only a few years ago, she 
still tried to soften the blow of every assault to them with her kind 
words and undying hope.  The years of unending war had made Bunnie's 
psyche far more resiliant, though...she allowed herself to accept, out
of pure mental necessity, the possibility that Robotnik had slain all
the children outright.  Throughout the years of her tenure as a Freedom
Fighter, she had never seen a roboticized child; only the bodies of the
fallen.  However, the possibility that they might yet live had began to
flicker inside her firm battle-hardened bosom, which might be proven 
once the resistance had taken the Death Egg; for within the Egg there
lied Robotnik's secure database of his victims, which was disconnected 
from the rest of Robotnik's psudo-MobiusNet...and soon, when the last 
SWATBot had fallen, the list would be read by the eyes of Sally, Sonic, 
and herself...
 
     Her paw dried in the icy wind, the sun beginning to make the pond
sparkle and flicker with the lifeforce of the world.  She stood again and
moved on into the forest, walking along with her thoughts to accompany
her.
 
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     Joseph walked the halls of the Dome, deep within the core of his
chosen dominion.  The chronometers on the wall read 04:59:33:21.244,
denoting to him the extreme earliness of the morning.  Or perhaps it
was the lateness of night, depending on your particular paradigm.
Such things mattered little to him now, the sole technomagus on Mobius.
 
     It was an interesting title to have, `technomagus'.  He had created
the term himself after pondering what his very essence was, what he had
become over the past few years of work and enlightenment.  The techno
part of the word came from his strong background in technology, not to
mention the fact that it ran through his life like a river.  He had been
spawned from technology, been taught by technology, and came to his new
homeworld from the powers of technology.  The `magus' part of the word
descended by his research into the occult culture of Mobius, the wizards,
witches and warlocks that populated the world throughout history.  
His studies came up with not only a fuller appreciation of his `kind',
but with an ancient term for wizard: Magus.  It sounded -cool-.  
`Technowizard' lacked zing, and `technowarlock' was just stupid.
However, `technomagus' had the proper panache, the class required for 
someone of his supreme mental prowess.  Thus, he had something to call
himself if he was questioned by some other order of being.
 
     He padded along, his mind occupied mainly with a more complex
coincidental procedure.  He had been bouncing two basketballs along
behind him, independently of each other, without so much as an orange
spark caressing their surface.  Joseph had almost walked through the 
entire length, height, and width of the Dome, the basketballs occasionally
orbiting around him while continuing to bounce independently.  He even
reversed the gravity around them a few times, and had them bound off the
ceiling of various hallways to amuse him.  With what mental resources
he had left, however, he considered his current situation.
 
     His project had recently been completed.  The entire complex had
been readied for its activation, an entirely new wing constructed to
contain the apparatus to use it.  Fuel, cloaking systems, all the 
things needed to obscure the device from the alien ship, the 
Keldy'rians, and the Mobian contingent around his domain.  It would
rage out with the element of surprise in its favor, allowing him the
needed alarm to use the complex procedure that would permit the fox 
the required time to vanquish the host.
 
     But enough of that, he thought, let him consider more fully the
nature of his abilities.  Perhaps if he understood his alterations
of local reality more throughly, he could improve his prowess at his
new `science'.  Indeed, the more of an edge he had, the more likely he
could take out the _Apocolypse_ without a great deal of exersion.  
 
     He pondered the action of the basketballs.  The most base 
explaination was that he was utilizing some sort of telekinetic
power to control the action of the objects.  However, he knew far
better than that.  The balls were being propelled by a contragravitic
field of his own creation, which he had generated by commanding the
local area of time/space to behave in the desired manner.  How did
he do that?  Most people would simply state `magick' and leave it
alone after that point.  But Joseph wished to understand the most
basic components of reality and its alteration, so he delved deeper.
Perhaps the `spirit', the spark of self-awareness that permitted one
to learn of her own existance in a larger cosmos, enabled one to 
change the fabric of time and space around it with practice.  Ergo,
`magick' could be considered an underlying use of physics, like
the paths of photons and warp propultion.  After all, if one could
create a matter/antimatter power source, it could be reasonable to 
state with sufficient knowledge that one could spawn an equal 
amount of power by learning how to fold reality into a correct 
configuration--a paper airplane, as it were.
 
     The chronometer displayed that it was 05:45:11:23.001 in the
morning, and that the sun was creeping above the horizon.  The 
basketballs bounded along after Joseph as he headed to the lift
and ascended to the first level of his home.  He did not hunger or
thirst, and his body tired more and more slowly as the mystical 
power became more instinctive to him.  The fox wondered if his
body was beginning to feed off the lifeforce of the world around
him; he had not partook of the blood of his mate in months now.
Joseph, in fact, had no longer required food, drink and rest for
almost three weeks.  It was becoming rather eerie; as if his body
had become cybernetic.
 
     He emerged under the warm embrace of the Dome, which had been 
painted on the exterior with a soft mixture of dew and frost.  The
fireplace crackled in the rear of the room, which outlined his lover's
body on the couch in front of it.  Sandra's soft body was outlined with
a glowing light from the roaring flame, draped comfortably in a blanket.
Joseph had been away for several days, he had noted, so she must have 
felt afraid of sleeping so deep within the earth by herself.  He could
vaguely infer by the psychic resonance in the room that this area was
the closest thing to nature around the complex, so Sandra must have 
gravitated to it out of primal instinct.  The area by the fireplace 
was also the warmest and coziest part of the room, so it was only 
logical that she would choose to rest there.
 
     The fox silenced the basketballs by removing the oxygen around them,
thus eliminating the possibility of sound emissions from their repeated 
bouncing, and headed towards her quietly.  He had mastered the arts of 
stealth over the last few months, thanks to her continued tutilage,
so he could actually get away with this without being detected by her.
The fox crept over to her side, walking in front of the fire and kneeling
near the edge of the couch.  He scanned her aura and peeked dimly into 
her thoughts.  He knew that it was somewhat wrong to look into his mate's
dreams, but he never looked any deeper than that--if she wanted to obscure
her past, he would allow her that simple privacy.
 
     She was tranquil now, resting deeply.  Sandra hadn't done much while
he was gone, according to the psychic residue around her aura; a few 
trips to Knothole, some walks through the forest, a series of short 
conversations with a few various people--nothing remarkable.  Her dreams
were also soothing; she was walking through a beautiful green field 
around the old City, the sounds of children in the distance.  He 
eventually made an appearance, holding her softly in his arms as the
time melted to the not-too-distant future, where the ruins of Robotropolis
fell into a new City...the sun sparkled in the background, the warm 
wind blew against them with a pleasant scent, and...children?  Yes,
a few children, some kits with a mixture of his and her characteristics,
clung lovingly to them as they observed the final victory over Robotnik.
 
     He pulled his mind from hers invisibly, smiling just a little.  She
had a mother's heart but a rogue's body, a poet might have noted, but
he was quite willing to indulge both.  Progeny had been part of the plan,
after all...someone had to perpetuate his line, even on an alien, savage
world.  She was beautiful, kind, and loving; why not give her everything
she'd ever wanted?
 
     Gently, he looped his arms around her and softly kissed her.  Her
body reacted well to his touch, moving into his embrace with a 
instinctual grace that belied her practiced abilities.  With just a 
mere thought, the two were elevated into the air, where Joseph slid
underneath his mate, then allowed them to descend harmlessly onto the
couch.  He held her softly, allowing her to turn onto her stomache and 
causing her to face him.  Joseph kissed her again, gradually awakening
her into a groggy consciousness.
 
     "You've returned," she cooed, caressing his face.  "I cannot
describe how much I have missed you...where have you been?"
 
     He smiled, speaking softly.  "Oh, I just needed to meditate.  It
was such a lovely stretch of time, I wished to enjoy it in solitude."
The fox kissed his mate.  "But now the time for solitude has ended."
 
     She kissed him warmly back, snuggling into his firm form.
"And that, my love, is what I have been waiting for."
 
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     The dusk fell around the small ship, which cut through the cool
waters of the Southern Ocean like a klaive.  The trade winds had 
caught its sail, and in the distance the hint of land could be detected.
Its passenger, the cloaked wolf, stood like a statue at the helm of the
ship, holding its course steady towards the land in the far distance.
 
     A few storm clouds loomed in the distance, but he would be well
on his way on the land portion of his long and winding journey to the
North by the time they would hit.  The vessel's speed was quick for 
a craft of its design, but even then it was certainly not one of the 
wizard's portals to the various corners of the world.  
 
     Yet, such thoughts would not assist the wolf in his quest.  His
master had instructed him to carry out his last, and by far the least
complex mission...but it was so very far in the future.  He had slept
for more years than he could count, yet the wizard had instructed him
to perform this one, simple task.  He did not know why; how could
something so far in the future assist the long-dead wizard?  It was
not for him to question, though...he was made to serve, not command.
 
     The cool gunmetal caressed his hip in the holster, the weapon 
humming with unholy energies.  He feared and respected this lightbow,
but the wizard had given it to him as if it was the most trifling 
thing in the world.  All he had to do was point and pull the trigger,
and his target would be reduced to blackened dust...it was almost 
-too- easy.
 
      The craft continued to move silently into the night.
 
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      Fire and the horrible light and thunder from heavy weapons 
illuminated Packbell's evening for the umpteenth time, his continual 
loss of ground becoming more and more infuriating.  The SWATBot production
machines were running at a grueling pace, being made out of scrap parts
at times in order to hold up a steady resistance to the constantly 
swelling, increasingly bloodthirsty Mobians.  He no longer possessed  
any Worker-Bots to throw at the berzerker mob that pushed harder and 
harder against his deepest ramparts, so only physical weapons turrets
and the dismal remains of Robotropolis stood in their way.  About 
75% of the world was now completely liberated from Packbell's control
by default--there was simply no SWATBots or other mechanical minions
left to hold onto any of the facilities.  Almost everything Packbell
had left was poured into Robotropolis for one frantic, last stand.
 
      The evil android sat before the rotting control center's core,
the deformed nervous system of what remained of Robotnik's handiwork.
How it had fallen from glory!  Now only a husk of what it once was, 
it barely kept track of what happened 10 blocks outside the Death Egg;
the resistance had destroyed most of the other nodes that might have
given Packbell any sort of information--the number of Freedom Fighters,
how many SWATBots were left, how much time he had left until the primary
systems finally gave out, anything of worth.  Now it only displayed one
unit of information...how much time was left until the Buyers returned 
to `close the deal'...fortunately for him, it was quite small.
 
      "The hour of judgement comes, Mobius," he said to himself.
"Soon, very soon, your final, collosal effort against me will be seen
as little more as the last whimper of a damned world.  The Buyers will
crush you all with little more than a flick of their wrist, and I shall
leave your shattered corpses with only my mocking laugh as your dirge."
 
      The clock ticked down by degrees as the seconds passed, shrinking
lower and lower as the winter's first whispers began to creep into even
the roasting bowels of the Death Egg...
 
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
 
      The rabbit sniffed the wind as she walked along.  The distinct 
scent on the wind told her that wintertime wasn't far off.  In a few 
weeks, or even days, the first frost would come, and the forest would
grow quieter and quieter until only one's own breathing would shatter
the lifeless silence.  The nights would lengthen, the wind would be 
a shrill howl of ice and snow, and the earth would sleep.  
 
      Solstice this year would be special, though.  Not only would it 
be her first in many years as a normal doe, but it would probably bring 
with it the final battle against Packbell.  The city would fall to their
grasping paws, and there would be peace at last.  No more orphans to the
vile plots of a dark overlord, no more endless nights of fear..  Peace.
 
      As much as it was desirable, however, it also caused her to shiver 
with some mild fear.  What would happen after they would win, after the
city had been rebuilt and the monarchy restored?  What would she do for 
a living; she had no practical skills to apply to a modern world without
her roboticized limbs, and her fame would only carry her so far.  She had
no desire to live off of Sally's regime as a mere leech, nor did she know
if any of her family even lived to offer a paw of assistance.  For the 
first time in her life, she honestly did not know what to do.
 
      She walked deeper into the forest, far from the normally trod paths.
Bunnie realized that she could do this without fear, since all the
SWATBots were holding off the constant assaults from within Robotropolis.  
It was a new and interesting feeling to be without any fear of capture or 
observation, one she hoped she could experience often.  The doe had 
never before just gone on a walk without telling someone where she was 
going, when she'd be back, or if anyone wanted anything of her while she
was out.  Was that a guilty pleasure?  She didn't know or care.  Bunnie
just wanted to enjoy these first few days of relative freedom in solitude.
 
      The songs of birds began to fill the air more frequently, but were
far from the mighty tunes that drifted through the air in the summer; 
by degrees, all of the flying creatures were heading south.  The chirping
of crickets had faded long ago with the cold temperatures, leaving only 
the crunching of leaves beneath her paws to rustle along with the music.
However, the sound of rushing water was slowly rising in temperature as
she walked along the path, the waterfall nearby.  She hadn't been there
for a long time; she wondered how it had fared unattended.
 
      Sure enough, the waterfall's base hadn't changed much since 
Bunnie had last been there.  It had lichens and small trees growing 
around it, and the pond the waterfall emptied into, which flowed 
into the river that fed the power ring pool, was still clear and  
cool.  She sat down on a nearby stump by the water, and simply 
sat silently, watching the water slip down the plateau.
      
      The sun rose above the horizon, giving Bunnie a lovely sight to
behold.  The cool wind blew gently as the world stirred into wakefulness,
those creatures of the night retreating completely into oblivion for 
another day.  The songs of birds became louder and sweeter again, and
the stirrings of forest animals could be heard crisply in the foreign
silence that accompanies the first few moments of dawn.  She stood and
watched the sun rise higher in the sky, then eventually headed off to 
further greet the morning.
 
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
      
      Ivo Robotnik's eyes clicked back on as he awoke, unplugging his 
arm from the power battery and standing.  It had been roughly six 
hours since he had taken a rest, and he felt fully recharged.  Tweaking
his moustache, he walked to the window and gazed again towards Mobius.
 
      Winter would soon be setting in, he thought to himself, which
would mean that this `conference' between the allied worlds that 
John had mentioned would soon occur.  He had said that the conference
would buy them the necessary time to take Mobius, then use the 
resources gained from the sale of the water to build up the
rest of their fleet and slay their foes.  Ivo had to grin slightly
at this; did that fool actually think he could defeat the hedgehog?
He had learned over the years that Sonic was protected by some sort
of supernatural force, something that kept him from being destroyed.
Probability only went so far; he had millions of SWATBots and over
three-quarters to ninety percent of the population roboticized or 
terminated, yet this one hedgehog and his small band could never 
quite be caught.  He had killed a few of them, roboticized others, 
but the hedgehog was impervious.
      
      Ivo was not a fool; he had single-handedly conquered the entire
planet, removed the king, and claimed dominion over a massive world, 
and might have even taken the stars in time...but this hedgehog lacked 
the wits of a flea.  He -knew- this; his Princess was the one with any 
sort of rudimentary intelligence--even *she* was assisted by an AI!
Yet, again and again, either something would happen to free him, or some 
screw-up from his lackeys would release him.  And he had always been 
close, so close.  It was usually a matter of three seconds between his 
final victory and the hedgehog's escape.
 
      Now, an ultimately supreme force had arrived to attempt to do what
he could not in over 20 years; destroy the hedgehog and take the world.  
The odds were with them; they possessed the element of surprise, superior
weaponry, greater numbers, fighters and enough surface area to put the
world in darkness if it crossed the sun's path.  
 
      The host's defeat, Ivo bitterly thought, would be astronomical.
      
      He walked from his quarters and out into the halls; still they
were empty and silent.  Twenty years ago, he would have thought himself
mad for coming to that conclusion.  One hedgehog versus an army of 
SWATBots, never mind one of a superior alien host?  The force from
the hedgehog would be pitiful in comparison; logic tells one that much.
Yet, logic does not account for `destiny', a concept Ivo usually put
little or no thought towards.  Destiny or pure, stupid luck was something
reserved for the pitiful minds of the average Mobian, not something a 
human would put much faith in.  But the evidence stared him in the face
as he shut down at night...something else was in the equation.
      
      At first, he had simply assumed that it was due to his speed.
Operating on that hypothesis, he had run back the security logs and 
picked out areas of his command center and his various installations
that needed to be designed to hamper any long bursts of speed, then
placed more SWATBots around the affected areas.  All the simulations
had said that this would stop the hedgehog and permit his roboticization.
It failed dismally.  Thus, he moved on to his second hypothesis that
the hedgehog would do what he said if he took hostages.  He designed
the capture areas to be impervious, totally unbreakable.  Again, he 
got through, retrieved the cargo, and returned into the night.  
Robotic doubles?  No effect.  Breaking his will by slaying his allies?
No effect.  Double agents?  No effect.  Packbell?  No effect.  Ultimate 
death machine?  No effect.
 
      He walked away from Mobius inside the disc.  Sonic simply was 
destined to succeed over all odds, he had concluded, so any attempts to
ensare or destroy him other than global biosphere annhilation would 
eventually fail.  That didn't stop him from trying, though.  No matter
how badly he lost, he came back from the ashes and fought harder, 
killed thousands, roboticized hundreds, left more of the world a smoking
toxic waste strip.  But in the back of his mind, the doubt remained.
 
      Yet, Ivo Robotnik, Mobius' rightful ruler, had sworn the minute he 
saw the hedgehog to slay him.  Every single defeat he suffered only 
strengthened his resolve, made him work harder.  Despite what he knew to
be inevitable, he ignored his own logic and truely believed that the 
hedgehog would be destroyed this time.  He never broke a vow...to himself.
 
      And despite the overwhelming odds in their favor, the aliens 
wouldn't succeed.  They didn't know the nature of the beast they were
facing...they didn't have his experience to show them what to do.  
He was depending on this...for Mobius would be his again after they
had done their worst, fractured their defenses just enough for one 
last collosal effort.  And then, only then, would the hedgehog fall.
 
      He looked into the black void of space from the window, and could 
only laugh...
 
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