Ruby Haze [Archie Sonic SI]

[weredrago2]

Ruby Haze
Chapter 1: In Mercia Res

♦ 100

For the first time in my life, I finally achieved some measure of greater perspective in terms of my place in the universe. Not by deep diving through my issues and reaching a significant breakthrough. That would have been long-term progress. No, this was accomplished by gazing down at an alien planet and being unable to reconcile how small I was in comparison to it. That was before factoring in the dozens upon dozens of little moons that rotated around the sphere, each one a different size or shape moving at its own pace. They might have been dwarf moons, but they certainly dwarfed me.

Staring at it all for a few minutes, I had to admit: It was the most beautiful, terrifying photograph of the Earth from space that I had ever seen, even if it got many of the finer details wrong. Europe was scrunched-up and lost a lot of definition in the process. Africa was set askew until it poked South America and maybe India. Australia was a rough, circular patch of terra firma set in the middle of the Pacific. Most bafflingly, it seemed as though someone missed the memo about Southeast Asia being a region with many islands and treated it like an art project they needed to haphazardly glue together to meet a deadline.

It was certainly an unusual circumstance, hovering out in the oxygen-starved void far beyond any atmosphere and taking in all the little, tiny details of a world that resembled my own in the same way a chicken does a turkey. I hadn't been facing the right way to see what the New World looked like, but at a guess it would have been as screwy as the old one.

Regardless of whether air was abundant out here or not, my chest was rising and falling. Fast. I felt oddly breathy. The whole experience was nearly a dream, but I was too mentally aware and too active for it to be one. If there was such a thing as being too tired to dream, that described my natural state. I rarely dreamed, and when I did it was a chaotic mess of ideas that stopped, started, and stalled without tangible bridges between one thought or another. This global vista of deformed continents was too consistent to be something I imagined, and yet I could make out the infinitesimal details of whirling cloud formations and the very occasional pinpoint of electric light. Nowhere near as many lights as I was expecting.

♦ 99

Somewhere, deep in my bones, I felt a timer tick down. Unnerved, but curious, I traced that heavy sense of dread to a small weight on my left hand. A hot pink stud of glass or something along those lines was embedded on the front of my hand. Set in the center of it, wedged between sensitive nerves and tissues as if it belonged there. Around that pink stud was a black glove that covered the rest of my hand. Underneath the glove followed a black bodysuit that covered the whole of my arm and the entirety of my body.

"What?"

It was the first thing I said in space. Not very eloquent, but it got the idea across. The first thing I did since waking up this morning was discover a whole new dimension of anxiety and existential horror. That was bad enough, but where did my clothes go? Was I even wearing glasses? Who put that pink thing there?

♦ 98

"What!?"

I didn't know what the counter meant, but I also didn't want anything counting down while I was in space without a helmet! My heart raced, my head wracked with possibilities and hitting dead end after dead end in regards to solutions for them. If I could feel a battery being drained, what was I spending the power on? Breathing, radiation shielding, flight? What else?

Ninety-eight was still good, right?

♦ 97

I brought my hands to my head to massage my temples, inadvertently bringing the foreign object closer to my face than I wanted it to be. I think I could fly in one direction and hit the sun if I tried hard enough, but the weird glam rock was acting like a shortcut to the same sensation. A blistering source of heat and light that got more intense and less accommodating the harder I focused on it.

When my mind made the connection to heat and light, it clicked. I didn't know where it came from, but right now this thing was keeping me alive. I didn't go to sleep with a black bodysuit on either, but the odds were that the mysterious gem provided it for me.

Maybe I should find a place to land? Preferably a spot with a free atmosphere. Assuming this world was the same size as the Earth I knew, it had a tremendous breadth of options to pick from on short notice. I didn't have all day to choose, either. While I attempted to narrow down my options between Central Europe and an AWOL Iberian island, the pink stone flared up. It stung my hand, causing me to flinch as though I'd touched a hot stove. The 'stove' was still stuck on my hand, making the gesture useless.

"Ow! What is it now?"

Following another instinct guided by pain response, I reoriented myself on my axis so that I faced the endless starscape of space. Taking a moment to concentrate and pick out noteworthy events in the abyss beyond my comprehension, I found what the gem was trying to tell me. It looked as though a meteor the size of a semi-trailer truck was flying in my direction, on course to impact with my fragile body and smear me across its surface. The hunk of debris was grey and craggy, composed of iron first and a smattering of other metals second.

"No, wait. That's not a meteor, it's an asteroid." I could tell because it was some twenty meters across and getting bigger with each second, rather than shrinking when it burned up in the atmosphere. Lacking any practical experience in dodging celestial bodies, talking myself through the crisis situation was the best I could manage.

♦ 96

"What do I do? Fly? Now? Please!?"

I slowly backed away from the oncoming metal deposit, feeling a source of heat at my back and hand. Was that the burn from atmospheric friction already? Whoever said space was cold needed to get their facts checked, because it felt like a sauna when the only thing between you and a really big rock was a much smaller one. My heart only pounded faster as the asteroid zeroed the distance between us. Holding my arms out to block the asteroid was another instinct, equivalent to when you extend your hands to break a fall, only managing to mangle them.

"No, no, no! You've gotta be kidding me! Get away!"

The gem at my hand flared up again as my vision became awash with red. Dreams could be twisted, but this wasn't anything close to fair. I should have woken up a long time ago. At that moment, I went from panicked to angry. Furious, as I desired to vent all of my frustrations into the closest thing I had to an adversary. A target to hit. I lowered my right arm, giving my left room to aim at the asteroid flying straight into my personal space. The welling emotions gave way to an idea that blossomed into a way out.

"Take this!" I shouted, a wide bolt of pink and red energy surging out of the gem and colliding with the odious space junk! The display of power awed me as the colorful projectile rocketed towards its target, shattering the asteroid into massive chunks on impact. In its wake, meteorite fragments and a dispersing haze of dust were all that remained. The wreck was the same color as the trinket, transmuted from iron and other metals to a solid, shimmering crystal.

I took a moment to examine my work. "Wow."

♦ 91

That moment of wonder was brief, as I felt how much that took out of me. Mixed, rhythmic sensations of heat and pressure that added up to a shallower pulse of power. If the invisible numbers in my head were an abstraction of some kind, then I blew about a twentieth of the power I had overall on a laser light show.

Did this thing recharge? What happened at zero?

I started to have a sinking feeling as the pink dust got further and further away. Belatedly, I realized that it wasn't drifting from me, so much that I had started to fall down to the planet. Shooting a big energy blast at the asteroid significantly accelerated my descent, and I hadn't even figured out how to fly. Trying to force-correct my downward dive from orbit only resulted in flailing wildly without a clue as to what I was doing.

♦ 90

"Ah! AH! Slow down! SLOW DOWN!!"

The malformed globe spun around me faster that I could keep up, growing larger and larger still. My entire body was burning hot, surrounded by a bright corona of flame.

"It's official! I don't like this dream anymore! Space sucks! You can wake me up now!"

♦ 89

I felt bile rise in my throat. The sky was green, the grass was blue, and I was on fire. This would not have been how I chose to go out. Blazes of glory suck. I didn't want to die.

♦ 88

…Some time after I expected to have hit the ground, I realized I was still falling.

♦ 87

"ANY DAY NOW!" I screamed at the now useless gem, which had stopped responding to my aimless demands and was simply glowing. It should have let me fly by now! Perhaps I was venting at the entire solar system, because no one else could hear me anyway. Falling through the clouds and quickly reaching a terminal end point, the land below appeared to be wooded when I had the chance to look down. My spinning hadn't stabilized so much as slowed down, giving me the verdant view of the evergreen forest every few seconds.

Before I could figure out the magic words to give myself wings, I made an earsplitting impact with water. The right side of my body was wracked with pain, and it felt like a jet of water was sprayed up my nose straight into my brain. Landing in water at that speed was guaranteed to break me before it broke any falls. I wasn't in the mood to argue whether instant death would be a mercy at this point, because the immediate change in scenario elicited a more primal and panicked response from my hindbrain than falling from orbit.

♦ 86

I was far too deep into the water to grasp for the surface. My power probably let me breathe underwater if I was comfortable in a vacuum, but it felt like my lungs were filling with fluids anyway. Unable to reach for air or latch on to anything solid, I sank into my own anger and fear. Either the water was boiling, or it was just me. I just came out of space and was all sorts of mad about it. I was also upset about getting water stuck in my nose, an idiosyncratic train of thought I hung on to because I noticed a pattern with getting angry and getting results. The gem illuminated the dark depths of the water, and I thought of flying straight up to freedom.

"Ah! Stop! Stop! Too high!"

It didn't work as planned. My flight pattern was erratic. More like a fish being kicked around by an invisible force than soaring. There were multiple times I risked hitting a tree or sheer cliff and breaking my neck. Focusing my jittery jumps into concentrated movement took effort driven by desperation and adrenaline. Coming to a complete stop was harder, but in that moment I would have taken stable ground under my feet over bouncing around pinball-style.

♦ 85

Once I reoriented myself and regained a sense of up and down, I dropped to the wet ground and vomited. I was utterly tapped out in my physical and mental reserves. Launched out of orbit, partially drowned, and nearly splattered in the span of five minutes. Ten tops! I needed some time to unwind, puke some more, and then just lay down in the fetal position. I could barely feel the texture of the dirt as my fingers dug into the earth, but half of that was because of the odd gloves I was wearing. What were they, leather? Latex? I couldn't place the material.

"Stupid gloves," I muttered between ejecting copious amounts of fluid from my body.

The gloves vanished before my eyes when I spared an idle thought to wishing them away, seemingly costing the gem nothing to get rid of. I crawled back to the water's edge in a stupor, stumbling over gnarled greenery that nicked my exposed hands. It hurt a bit, but not enough to bleed. Besides, I didn't think I was ready to stand yet.

At the water, I carefully examined my reflection. My eyes were dark, sunken pits with red rings around black pinpricks of pupils. The light brown curls of my hair were a wet mop that crowned a gristly, disheveled expression. My nose was about the same as it was when I last checked, but it was swollen with a bold streak of blood running down one nostril. Was that from using the gem, or the crash? Either way, I looked terrible, my body and the immediate area around it were bathed in an eerie, ethereal light. I washed my face in the clear lake, something to keep my hands busy while I thought over what to do next.

♦ 86

The conspicuous icosahedron had cooled off somewhat from the dunking, but it still glowed faintly. I couldn't see all twenty sides with it plugged into my hand, but I knew a D20 when I saw one. Touching my left palm, I tried to feel the other end of the stone poking out; nothing was there. The gem looked so strange, without a layer of fabric covering where one connected to the other. Not pink or red as I first thought, but something in between. Magenta?

"Huh," I mused aloud, impressed by the cut. "Looks sorta like the--"

"Stand and deliver, varlet!" a voice behind me declared in the most jarring, broken Shakespearean English accent I could possibly imagine. As if a certain God of Thunder or the King James Bible was ringing in my ears. "You trespass upon sacred waters! State your business!"

The sudden noise had me spooked, then strongly bewildered once I registered what said voice was demanding of me. Was I going crazy? Was I still dreaming? Was anything here real? Was I real? I ran my fingers through my hair, hands trembling.

"Hey. Hey. Shut up. I need a minute here. Go away."

My voice was hollow. I didn't even bother to turn around when I answered back. In case it was a hallucination, I didn't want to give it the time of day.

The voice of a teenaged LARPer seemed flabbergasted. He faltered slightly as he pressed onward. "I shall give you no moment of respite, sirrah! As guardian of the Deerwood Forest and rightful steward of yon lake, I demand you state your intentions or face the consequences!"

Exasperated, I turned around. "Alright, already! What do you…?"

I was talking to a three foot tall teal rodent in a brown, cowled tunic with matching earth tone hiking boots. He was a furry Robin Hood ripoff with big green eyes and a stern scowl. Strangely not the strangest thing I've seen today, the first sign of intelligent life I've encountered. He was perched on a stump atop a short hill, a small longbow aimed at my torso.

".…Want?"

I wordlessly looked him over in stunned fascination. I thought he'd be human, rather than whatever he happened to be. An embodiment of the dangers of unregulated nuclear testing? My reaction was severe, but muted, because I could only believe he was as real as everything else that had gone on within the past few minutes.

Aside from that, I was left wondering if he had any arrows to go with the bow. I looked down, noticing a long shaft with a feathery tail lodged in my chest. That wasn't there earlier, by my own recollection. Weird. How did that happen?

Then yelped in shock and pain when it immediately started to feel like there was an arrow stuck in my chest! My first instinct was to yank it out, but it wouldn't budge! The attempt to jostle it loose only made it hurt even more!

♦ 85

"Ow! Ah! AH! You shot me with an arrow! Why did you shoot me with an arrow?!" I've never been hit by an arrow before, but it seemed the most prudent question to ask.

The short mammal took a step back, looking slightly less confused than I was. He nearly fell off the stump, turning the trip into a hop on to the hill.

"Lackaday, spellbinder! That was meant to be a warning shot!" he exclaimed.

"What was the warning? To wear some armor?! Good lord, this stings!"

"I merely meant to query thou in order to determine whether thee were friend or foe when thou turned swiftly without nary a warning!"

I pointed to the offending projectile with one index finger. At least it wasn't bleeding. Yet. "Really? Do we look like friends, you pistachio wingnut? I don't think we have a very solid foundation for friendship here!" My eyes were red now, so hopefully my anger got across without being muddled by ambiguity.

He raised his bow and prepped another arrow. I had my bedazzled arm extended and ready to sucker punch him with a laser. I liked my odds more than his if he tried that again.

"You descended from the stars as a fiery, baleful phantasm unto the bed of Never Lake! Am I not to assume you sought to violate and despoil its serene beauty to fuel your dark magicks, Overland warlock most foul and unseeming?"

"I don't even know what that means!" Academically I knew what some of his words meant, but not how they applied to the present standoff. Not that I would forfeit a shred of the argument by admitting that. Worst of all, I was pretty confident he had just called me ugly after shooting me. "And you're not so hot yourself, you jolly green halfling!"

He drew closer to me, getting up in my face. "Sheathe thine sharp tongue, pock-marked mage of ill repute!"

I drew closer to him, kneeling down slightly so he could hear just what I thought about him. "I've been to Renaissance fairs with more class and attention to historical detail than an overwrought, moldy stuffed shrew like you!"

Our potentially lethal altercation rapidly devolved into a furious storm of professional insult fighting. This was technically a conversation with another intelligent being, something I could really use to recharge my emotional batteries. Even if he was a diminutive, feckless git with poor trigger discipline and no pants to his name.

Idly, I noted my arrow wound wasn't bleeding as much as it should've. Wanting to yank it out was a gut reaction when I first identified it, but now I didn't want to risk doing that and having the arrow cause even more damage on its way out of my body. Considering I haven't died from exposure or blunt force trauma, it could only hurt so much if I pulled the arrow free later.

"You shall regret the false testimony borne about the virtue of my mother, you--"

"HALT!"

Neither of us were able to get another word in as several tall, imposing steel giants stomped free of the woodwork and entered the lake clearing. The three machines were nearly twice my height and fairly uniform in construction, seeming right at home on the set of a shoestring budget sci-fi film or a supermarionation production. Built with a minimum of articulation or moving parts, covered in heavy steel plates of armor that collected dirt and dust as they bowled over pine, stone, and shrub. They were armed with dense, welded bars of metal that functioned as crude and cumbersome clubs in their weighty hands.

A trio of blood red cyclopean visors glared down at us, followed by a litany of the local equivalents to the Miranda Rights projected through very cheap voice synthesizers. If they had a strong accent like the shrew, it was muddled by the modulator.

"ROB O' THE HEDGE AND UNIDENTIFIED COLLABORATOR. YOU ARE UNDER ARREST. DO NOT RESIST THE WILL OF THE HIGH SHERIFF. I REPEAT, DO NOT RESIST."

"Are those robots?!" I squealed with incredulous, barely-restrained indignation.

This whole day had been panic, terror, screaming, and pain. One crisis after another, all questions with no answers. There was an undercurrent to what I was feeling. The heavy, mounting pressure from the bottle I'd been filling up to compartmentalize every mental stress fracture was a dam about to burst from information overload, and I didn't really have enough information to be satisfied with what little I had.

The colorful vermin stood to combat position, turning away from me and aiming his bow at one of the metal men. I couldn't tell which part of them would be vulnerable to a humble arrow at a glance. The red visor eye, maybe? Unless 'Robbo' was packing more heat than he let on, I sincerely doubted the guy would manage anything more than wasting a shot.

Then again, he shot one at me just fine. Really, what did I know?

"Verily! These mechanical miscreants are the footsoldiers of the treasonous Sheriff! I know not your intentions, stranger, but surely you can recognize the need for--"

I growled and projected a conical ray of light from my gem. The light coalesced into a large, translucent left hand and wrapped itself around the body of the nearest robot. With a thought, I clenched the giant fist and crushed everything encased beneath it to scrap metal and glitter dust. The robot's head spun straight up through the air before landing on the refuse pile.

"…Cooperation."

The two that remained stared blankly at their comrade, who had become a used parts depot. They raised their metal clubs and slowly ambled towards us. "UNIDENTIFIED MISCREANT IS ARMED AND DANGEROUS. ENGAGING WITH EXTREME PREJUDICE."

For my next magic trick, I focused on a rough circle around the two robots and set it ablaze with iridescent flame. The pillars of fire rose above the robots and met one another, freezing in place and solidifying into a crystal cage surrounding them on all sides. The bars of the cage were rough and jagged, giving them an aggressive look I could get behind.

It wasn't looking too bad now. If I could do that to all of my problems, I might be able to get ahead of this. I looked around, trying to find where that Rob rodent went. Annoying as he was, I would appreciate it if anyone stopped throwing curveballs and got to exposition!

There was a loud clatter like shattering glass as the armed robots stepped out of the remains of the pretty cage. I underestimated their speed; the doofy drones crossed the gap into melee range in under two strides. Their sudden blitz threw me on the backfoot, but I had enough time to raise a light barrier between me and the wrecking force of their clubs. Fragments of that interposing wall scattered over the ground as I was tossed reeling into a sheer stone wall. They knocked something loose with that heavy blow, and it wasn't a stronger tolerance for pain.

"Would you cut that out!?" I called out to them, nearly breathless but with enough air left to loudly complain at them.

There was a pause in their combat routine. The two machines were nearing closer. Another blast or two could do it, but I won't get a good shot if they beat me black and magenta first. If I didn't finish this soon, they might call for friends. Like that 'sheriff' of theirs, who I wasn't in the mood to meet if he was overtaxing people with death machines. At this rate I wouldn't be surprised if the income went into Prince John's space program.

"REQUEST DENIED."

The machines readied their blunt instruments to pick up where they left off. The path of the farthest one was intercepted by an arrow striking its foot from the angle of the trees. The tiny sliver of wood didn't pierce the armor, instead erupting into a bundle of twine that caught its two lumbering limbs and drew them together. The string didn't look nearly strong enough to do the job, and yet the steel giant tumbled to the ground with a solid clunk.

With that robot incapacitated, I was forced into close combat with the remaining one. It swung its rebar beatstick left and right, causing me to flinch and propel myself away with long, unbalanced jumps. Being craned around on invisible wires or hopping with moon physics was safer than trying to fly under duress.

I hadn't been in a physical fight in years, but the machine was encroaching on my comfort zone and bringing me right back into that violent headspace where blood pumped and common decency went out the window.

The difference was only this time, of course, I'd win.

Kicking off against a rocky spire, I rocketed towards my next victim with a left hook that exploded into a shotgun blast of pressurized pink mist. The pressure wave rocked the machine and caused it to bowl over. I was ready to keep wailing on the downed robot when I saw the mist harden over its upper body, forming a spiky layer of magenta mineral over their head and trunk in the shape of a frozen splash.

"Ha! Try breaking out of that, you tin-plated git!"

The robot's thick fingers dragged coarsely across the surface of the gem shell, too stiff to finely hold on as it futilely attempted to scrape free. Not wanting to risk whether it would actually accomplish the deed, I conjured a broad cylinder of solid light and drove it straight down on the robot's head. The result was total flattening and a small crunch where I had to guess its brain was. Brain or not, the body stopped struggling when that area was squashed into a solid disc.

♦ 75

"Aha! I got 'em!" Once the deed was done, there was total silence in the forest clearing. Rob left my sight during the skirmish, and hadn't returned after taking out one of the drones with his bow. I called out his name again, or what I was pretty sure his name was. No response.

With nothing left to smash into tiny chunks, the adrenaline started to bleed out of my body. The gem still had power to burn, but didn't. I fell to my knees, exhaustion returning with a vengeance once I had run out of targets. I was able to perform one last action while cognizant, and said action was ripping that arrow out of my body with all the force I could muster. It was a drastic act in delirium, done to keep me up, but instead it caused me to black out from shock.

Ah. There was the blood I was missing…


---

Spoiler: Author Notes / Lore

Man, this took a lot of nerve for me to put online. It's incredibly niche but a story I felt like telling! I hope everyone enjoys it.

Ruby Haze takes place in the year 3234 on the Mobius calendar. (No relation to our own.) Very early in the events of the comic book, back when Mike "Sonic is Alf but blue" Gallagher was writing many of the Sonic stories. This was a very silly time for the books, to the extent that much of it had to be retconned/ignored to take anything after it seriously. They wouldn't be getting "serious" for quite a while.

Rob O' the Hedge is the rightful king of Mercia, a country that's all of France and the British Isles put together. Maybe other parts of Western Europe too? As you can guess, they are mostly used for Robin Hood parodies with a light sprinkling of Arthurian tales. I leaned into that, as many of Robin Hood's Merry Men were people he rescued or got his ass kicked by. This scenario is pretty close to that.

The robots are based off some unnamed baddies that appeared in Knuckles #11, Sonic #58, and Knuckles #12. Those issues are also where Rob first showed up. Similar, but much larger robots called G.O.O.N.s would latter appear in Chaotix Quest (Sonic Universe #46-#49), which was going to have Rob O' the Hedge but replaced him with Bow Sparrow at the last second for legal reasons.

 

[weredrago2]

Ruby Haze
Chapter 2: Unhappy Tree Friends

Last night I had the strangest dream. Not the regular kind of odd or curious, but far, far weirder. Perhaps uncannier than the infamous clown car chase.

At first, I thought I was awake. Then dreaming. Back and forth, as the narrative of my mind twisted and turned between ebbs and flows of real sensations and fantastical events. It was scary as all get-out. More a nightmare than a dream, too horrible to be anything but reality.

In that dream, the dinosaurs in tribal masks came into my home and tried to convince me it wasn't all that bad. I scoffed at them.

"Not that bad?" I shouted into their faces. Masks. "What part of that wasn't bad? Who invited you here… and when did my house become this huge cave?"

They spoke in pictures and I only understood a fraction of the symbolism, which was rude. All I caught was flickering fire, stolen wings, roaring thunder, and golden rings. As if they meant anything to me. The room flashed with light and inverted colors with each fleeting image. My surroundings became less distinct, increasingly blurry.

I couldn't tell if they were mad, happy, or sad with those silly masks on, but that hardly mattered now. They were leaving.

"Alright, forget the other questions! Just say it! Why did this happen to me?!"

The big, green one with a toucan beak taped to his face made a sound, and--

♦ 72

As my bleary eyes slowly fluttered to wakefulness, I awoke to a violent sneezing fit. I trembled from the force of it, and the sneeze was the starting gun for a sudden panic attack. I didn't know where I was and my body was wracked with new kinds of pain, both too light and too heavy when I tried to move my arms, legs, chest, and head. Forcibly slowing my breathing down to more manageable levels, I tried to set my mind on to more logical thinking. Recalling how I got here only in the vaguest of senses, I shivered.

Didn't know where I was, but I wasn't home. Nowhere near it. I could really use my allergy pills about now, but I'd settle for answers.

There was little light in the cramped room I'd been confined to, the only flashes of illumination coming from windows left ajar by whoever left me here. I wasn't afraid of the dark, so much as being in the dark after falling unconscious from shock and awakening in a mysterious place I didn't recognize. Tugging the thick, sweltering blankets off my body, I stretched and felt all sorts of acute aches across my body. I regretted getting up, but I was too scared to go back to sleep. Standing up from the outstretched cot was a slow and deliberate process. I had walked away from multiple fatal injuries, but it didn't mean I was going to start pushing my luck. The pain felt too real at the time to consider otherwise.

My eyes were more adjusted to the darkness, but not at a rate to my liking. More vision was more points of data, more knowledge. Eyeballing how much of my power I've spent so far and speculating how much it would cost to cast the equivalent to a cantrip, I nudged my crystal with one hand and imagined the room being a little brighter than it was.

No levitation, no crystal prisons, no roiling explosions that light the room on fire, and no giant boots to kick down the walls. Just some light. What was the point of a magical item of power if I didn't know how to control it?

I feared something would get lost in translation, but a conical beam of red poured out from my hand like a flashlight. With some mental tweaks, I could will the beam to change intensity and scope, make it narrower or broader. I didn't want to poke any eyes out yet, but a laser pointer could be useful for later. Waving the light back and forth across the room, I saw that I was inside a wooden hut with another tiny creature.

"Woah!"

I was thrown into the throes of terror in spite of how cute the critter was. They had a huge head with matching big eyes and eyelashes, with spikes pouring out the back of it like hair. The creature was outfitted with a blouse, a pleated skirt, sneakers, and gloves. Cute, sure, but I was expecting to be alone and they could have had a weapon behind their back. So I yelped.

"Eek!" she cried.

If the choice of clothing hadn't given it away, she sounded like a little girl. Frightened. She got spooked at the same time I got spooked, causing her to scamper out of the hut's doorless exit in a startled rush. It made me feel bad, though I wished it didn't. I'd been through a lot recently, and I thought I was entitled to traumatizing some children now and again. At least one, right? Like everything else going wrong in my life, there was a chance I could go back to sleep and pretend it never happened if I tried hard enough.

I felt bad anyway. Watching my head for the low ceiling, I followed her out of the hut and onto a wide, wooden bridge. The bridge was connected to a series of bridges, which were linked to other huts and ladders in a network of homes attached to thick tree trunks. I was the guest of a multileveled nest of tree houses.

My beacon swung downwards, but I wasn't able to see the ground on cursory inspection. How high up was this place, and could I request a hut with taller guard rails? They were fine for people that averaged around half my size, but didn't hit the mark for me.

"...Sorry. Didn't mean to scare you." My voice came out dull and hoarse. I wasn't as dead as I could have been, but I felt dehydrated and could really use a drink. Preferably on the rocks.

I dimmed the red lamp, turning it off and letting night vision take over from there. I wasn't submerged in total darkness. There was moonlight, and two of the darkened huts turned on their lights in response to the disturbance. I could see faint silhouettes of small humanoids peering from their doors and windows. A couple of pairs of eyes leering at me with hushed words exchanged between them in a way I didn't like.

I spotted the mutant animal child at an intersection of bridges where a platform was raised to form a common area. She was crouched behind a hooded figure I recognized from earlier. Taller than her, though not by much. His name was Rob, that much I knew for certain.

"Pardon the indiscretion of mine younger cousin, guest wizard. She had ne'er seen an overlander in person before."

What was I supposed to say to that? It took a moment to recompose myself, but I settled for a noncommittal "Uh. No problem."

Rob turned to the girl, who whispered something in his ear. He paused to listen before replying back at a similar volume, and she ran off to one of the larger huts in their treetop village. Big eyes poked out of the windows, the fear or anger in a few of them clear as day.

"Art thou with pangs of hunger, wizard?" Rob gestured to another suspended hut, where I could see candlelight and could smell something cooking. "We hath left aside a portion of vegetable broth for the hour at which thee had awoken."

I'd say he was being too casual about the whole thing, but the normal human response to this type of situation, as I understood it, was irrational fear and denial. Nothing that had been happening so far should have happened, and I'd been questioning it every step of the way, but I hadn't been running around or screaming in terror. Was that… normal? That almost always happened at the start of alien-flavored screwball comedies that tried to handle first contact with a quick joke, but I wasn't exactly laughing.

My stomach was audibly growling, so I defaulted to another, less complicated instinct. "Yeah. I can do broth."

What followed was one of the more awkward dinners I'd shared with another intelligent being. The suspended cabin had a fire pit beside our table to provide warmth. The dining table was smaller than I was used to. I was cramped under it, at constant risk of flipping the whole setup over if I twitched the wrong way. Rob laid out a wooden bowl and poured the orange broth in with a ladle, leaving a small loaf of bread beside it. Neither of us said a word until I was done, but I made fast work of the soup because I was starving and wanted to get this over with.

"So," I initiated, pushing the bowl and plate aside. "That all happened, right? Fell out of the sky, crashed, we er, talked, and then the robots…" I trail off.

The green mammal stared at me inquisitively, then nodded an affirmative. "Aye. It transpired as you recall. Sensing a disturbance at the sacred grounds of Never Lake, I misjudged you as an enemy and fired upon thee. When you came to my aid, I realized the tremendousness of my grievous error, and for your swift action I was in your debt."

"Oh." I took a sip of tea from a tall mug provided. Being incredibly undiscerning with tea, all I could say was that it was dark and burnt my throat while not tasting enough like coffee. I was too weary to taste it, but there wasn't enough caffeine to make a difference in my energy levels.

"Guess I should apologize for all of that stuff I said. Sorry. In hindsight, it was pretty uncalled for."

I may have been hopelessly confused and frustrated, but I wasn't going to let it show now that I got my cool back. That cool was a thin veneer and I was screaming internally since I got here, but I was going to hold on to the illusion of chill for as long as I could get away with.

Rob seemed to be put at ease by my words. He was more teal than green by candlelight, but I left my color swatch at home in my spare black jumpsuit. It was hard to say.

"Your apology is accepted, wizard, though I feel there is a debt to be repaid for my impropriety. These are troubling times in which we find ourselves in, but that is no cause to forget our better natures."

I nodded like I knew what was going on, allowing him to continue.

"I did not have the chance to introduce myself properly. I am King Robert O'Hedge. Known to friend and foe alike as Rob O' the Hedge."

"Well, I'm John," I replied. "Wizard."

I drink the hot tea and silently note these aren't the typical accommodations for a king, quaint woodland king or otherwise. Assuming he wasn't pulling my leg for one reason or another. Carefully phrasing my words, I prodded for additional context that would better let me pretend to know what I had gotten stuck into.

"I'll admit, I sorta dropped into your neck of the woods by accident. Didn't see that lake of yours until I was in it. My sense of direction is awful." I raised my hand with the pink rock on the back of it. The gem gleamed in the firelight. "This is something of a non-sequitur, but have you seen anything like this before?"

Rob shook his head. He looked surprised that I brought it up, as if I was supposed to know about how my own powers worked or something. Oh well. Everyone knows wizards are eccentric. It's the perfect defense for strange behavior.

"I have ne'er seen such a jewel before. If it is a work of spellcraft, then I can be of no aid to your queries. Our court had not been graced by a magician in ages. Recorded lore on magic was rare before the war began, and scarcer still with current strife. I could impose upon the Friar to search through the scrolls he was able to abscond with before the High Sheriff could abuse their knowledge, but much was left behind in our haste to escape capture by his sentries."

I wasn't surprised that Furry Robin Hood was friends with an animal of the cloth, but the talk of a war put me on the edge. What was the reason for conflict? Who was fighting who? I didn't even know the name of the country and I was already in the middle of their problems.

Oh, and magic appeared to be not only real, but something I could do. Swell. That tidbit went straight into the compartmentalization box for later.

"I'll have to ask your Friar friend about it later. Maybe you could tell me more about the current status of the … kingdom? As king, you're the best person I could ask about it."

"Very well. Are ye completely unfamiliar with the Grand Kingdom of Mercia?" he asked as he raised the kettle. "And would you care for more tea?"

"Yes and no. That is, yes to being not from around here, no to the tea."

Rob O' the Hedge stood from his chair, clearing the dishware from the table. He walked to a small table, where he picked out a detailed, hand-drawn map of the country for us to see. It was much like I expected from my short-lived perusal of the planet's surface: A country with the trappings of the British Isles and France thrown together. An elegant picture of a castle town was at the left of the map, surrounded by great plains in the North and swathes of untamed wilderness in every other direction. Scattered villages dotted the map, as sprawling roads connected most of them to the heart of the kingdom.

The map had some concerning additions besides that. How did they get their own Stonehenge where Scotland should be? Where did the Picts and Gauls fit in? Was the dragon in the right corner for flavor, or would I have to watch for one of those too?

"As a guest in our once-fair lands, I must warn you that the situation has become increasingly dire. Haiechester fell to the High Sheriff's army days hence. Several of my men were taken captive during the crackdowns, leaving the Crazy Kritter Freedom Fighters at a fraction of our manpower. We lost contact with the Highland warrens and the maquis in the South over the following nights. Many lost the will to continue the struggle and attempted surrender, but I fear for the lives of them and their families now that they are in the Sheriff's hands."

Full context or not, that sounded bad. Very bad. Several towns on the map had their names struck through with ink, presumably taken over or destroyed by the enigmatic Sheriff and his war machines. It made me stop and analyze them all with careful attention, the thought of cute talking animals dying in a campaign of suppression making me take this all more seriously.

Then I almost lost it. The name of the capital had been crossed out and replaced with something so juvenile I could hardly maintain a straight face after reading it. I nearly burst out laughing and had to cover it with a cough.

"S-Snottingham?" I said as I covered my mouth with my fist. I coughed a few times to make it marginally more convincing.

Rob's voice took on a more somber, frustrated tone as he rolled up the map and put it away. "Renaming Haiechester was the High Sheriff's first act after executing mine and Rosy's parents. They are lost to us, leaving the burden of liberating Mercia and avenging them to me."

My sense of levity evaporated, and the silence that followed was deafening.

"I'm sorry, Rob. I didn't know."

He glares at me. "I bear no further ill will towards you, wizard, but know this. I will not stop fighting until my kingdom is free. Even if my fellow countrymen are captured and I am consigned to carry on our mission alone." He exhales, some of the fire leaving his voice. "But this is not a battle for my younger cousin. Friar Buck was to take Rosy to our distant allies in Northamer, but the High Sheriff has redoubled his forces at the edges of Deerwood Forest since your appearance in Mercia days ago. I suspect they are aware of your presence here and are lying in wait to spring a trap for the both of us."

I didn't even crack a smile at the Friar's name when the joke clicked. I was more concerned about the unwitting consequences of my earlier actions against those robotic enforcers when something else suddenly occurred to me.

"I was sleeping for days?" I asked him, stunned.

"Like a babe. Friar Buck tended to your ministrations, and the others had a wager as to whether or not you would awaken at all."

A kingdom fell while my eyes were closed.

"Let's… Let's table that for now. Clearly we got bigger fish to fry here."

He looks at me funny. I roll my eyes and restate the question in a way he'll understand.

"Perchance we have more egregious concerns to address, King O'Hedge?"

Rob crossed his arms. We were sliding back to our initial rapport. "What concerns do you suggest so that we may address them, spellbinder?"

"A deal."

One of his eyebrows raised. With the size of his head, it was hard to miss.

"Pray tell. An exchange or an agreement?"

"Both. I help you fight the High Sheriff, at least on a temporary basis. Using the powers I have to help Friar Buck and Rosy to escape Mercia sounds as good a start as any. Once they're in the clear, you and I are going to go library diving for any books your kingdom has on magic."

"You seem fairly versed in witchcraft and arcane knowledge already. For what purposes would you need more?"

I was on a limited charge and desperate to know how to avoid being rendered powerless on an alien planet without any other means of protecting myself. Nothing serious.

"Knowledge is power, Rob. There's no harm in having more knowledge, but what I don't know can always find a way to hurt me."

Rob didn't have a response to that.

I extended my hand. "Based on what you've told me, you need all the help you can get. I'm offering."

"And if I were to refuse?"

"I'd leave. You know the forest, so you'd tell me which direction to fly in so that I don't give your position away to the Sheriff. Even if we aren't working together, I don't want to help anybody like him do what he's doing to others. Full stop."

Rob O' the Hedge became silent as he considered the proposed arrangement, staring at me, his rolled-up map, and then the shiny charm on my other hand.

"Is your word your vow?" he asked me as he examined my outstretched palm.

"...Yes," I replied after a stilted pause. "It's why I rarely give it."

We shook hands then and there, making us officially in this together.

---

Spoiler: Author Notes / Lore

The three dinosaurs in masks are, frankly, difficult to cover. The Ancient Walkers are a subject for another time. Read their article at your own discretion.

Rob's young cousin "Rosy" goes by another, far more popular name in the Sonic stories. I'll let you guess which pink hedgehog she's supposed to be.

Astute readers may recognize Rob's map of Mercia being a dead ringer for the World of Camelot. It isn't a 1:1 match, but I pulled from it as inspiration for the layout of the country.

There are in fact dragons in Mobius. They're probably not what you were expecting. Or maybe they were. In which case, you're cynical.

 

[weredrago2]

Ruby Haze
Chapter 3: Trailrazing

A few days passed in a listless blur after I cut my deal with Rob O' the Hedge. We would strategize, discuss the lay of the land, and leave the village of Hideaway for hours at a time to track the movements of the High Sheriff's robots whenever they made patrols. I didn't expect working with the nearest equivalent to Robin Hood to be as uneventful as it ended up being, but his Merry Men had split up over the past week on secret missions of their own. My power charge gradually decreased, but that was because I was practicing my flight in a safe environment rather than because I was diving headlong into danger.

The banality of being able to eat or bathe without anything trying to kill me went a long way towards restoring my nerves, but my evenings remained tense. Having slept for days, I spent the subsequent nights in a state of restlessness. I tried to relax and go to sleep, but there was a part of me that refused to sleep in fear of, for one reason or another, never waking up again.

The fact that I was burning through my tea rations like a fiend wasn't helping with the insomnia, but I wasn't going to give up caffeine addiction as long as it could still be sated.

Ultimately, there was still so much I didn't know about this world. Mercia was only one facet of this eerie planet, and what maps Friar Buck had in his study only gave me more questions than answers. I may have been too impulsive when I resisted arrest and broke those robots working for the 'High Sheriff', but the deed was done and I had no regrets. By context I could tell the guy was some sort of tinpot dictator. The lingering question was what I had to do next.

My first thought went to experimentation. Messing around with my new powers. The idea crossed my mind more than once, and I had to resist the urge to test my limits in a big way. I knew I could fly, project energy, make constructs, and breathe in space. That was cool, yes, but I was trying to lay low. A bright pink beacon in the dead of night wasn't exactly covert.

That left me experimenting in my hut. Anything too bright or noisy would attract the wrong attention, so I started small. I conjured little wisps of light that I could move around by thinking about where they were to go, like if I was juggling tennis balls that glowed. That didn't hold my interest for very long, so I plucked one from the air and bounced it against a wall.

It was a very important discovery. The balls had mass and form when I wanted them to. I knew I could make shapes and mass after forming a big fist and cages, so I conjured a featureless pink rectangle to my hand. Then I closed my eyes, concentrated on an idea, and opened them again.

In the place of the unmarked rectangle, I had drawn the Ace of Spades.

"Woah."

It looked and felt like a real playing card, even though I knew it was fake. The card had an intangible transparency to it that I could see through, a tell that it wasn't really there at all.

"Are these illusions? Can I do illusions?"

I did the trick a few more times, changing the design to other cards, random patterns, and even a mirror!

"Yeesh, I need to shave. Hey, I wonder if I can…"

I waved my hand over a writing desk left behind by whoever was the previous tenant of this medieval studio. A deck of cards appeared and I arranged them appropriately. One thing led to another, and I played solitaire. My default solo game.

Solitaire didn't take my mind off things like I was hoping it would, but the patience game centered my thoughts. Allowed me to take stock of what I've done, what I was doing, and what I wanted to do next. My mind wandered all the same, creating strange images that the gem would project and make 'real' during the matches. Tiny holograms of meeple or doll-sized monsters that would chase and eat the colorful meeple, throwing my cards into disarray.

By the point I had entirely abandoned Klondike for an illusory city the size of a chess board occupied with kaiju and robots (complete with sound effects and miniature explosions), it clicked that I may have overlooked a critically understated feature of my powerset: Programmed illusions that didn't seem to 'cost' much energy at all.

I felt like an idiot for not figuring that out sooner.

---

♦ 67

"Good morrow, pilgrim!" Rob O' the Hedge exclaimed as he entered my hut. We had a routine sorted out by this point, so I was expecting him when he barged in. "I hope you are well-rested, for on this morn you shall finally meet my brothers-in-arms!"

"Really?"

I got up from the desk and turned around. Something in my eyes must have told him that I was playing 'solitaire' instead of sleeping for the past week. Or maybe he saw a miniature cyborg gorilla putting a tarbosaurus in a full nelson on the table and didn't know how to respond.

"…Didst thou need a moment of respite to freshen up?" he asked sincerely.

"No no," I replied quickly. With a snap of my fingers, the animated game pieces vanished in a puff of smoke. I could get used to casually showing off like that. "You said we're meeting the… Crazy Critters, right?"

"Verily! The Crazy Kritters!"

"That's what I said, right?"

There was too much foliage to see the sun and a thick mist was glazed over Deerwood Forest. I had to take Rob at his word when he said that it was morning, but he hadn't steered me wrong yet. If anything, I was the one fleecing him. He still thought I was some sort of professional spellcaster, when I was really making it up as I went along. Rob O' the Hedge didn't strike me as naive, but he was putting a lot of faith in my capacity to deliver on the promises I've made.

I didn't promise him anything impossible, technically speaking, but I set a high standard for myself and had to stick by it.

Tabling my lingering doubts and stomaching another vegetarian breakfast, we stepped out into the main plaza of Hideaway that intersected between the homes and bridges. There were several animal people in the settlement: Dogs, pigs, mice, and a number of other creatures dressed in medieval peasant chic socializing with one another while they did their daily rounds of chores to keep the commune functioning. Their villages were all sacked or burned by the High Sheriff, leading them to move into Rob's halfway home while Friar Buck helped them find new places to settle away from the army's warpath.

The villagers grew silent as I passed, some trying to politely ignore me while others gawked. Their huge heads made up a good chunk of their body size, so it was hard to miss the unabashed disgust or distress on their faces. One woman clutched her young child and dragged them inside, a stereotypical 'don't interact with the undesirable' action that took me a moment to cogitate because of how surreal and disorienting the experience was.

I followed Rob down a plank staircase that winded down the trunk of a large tree supporting the suspended village. Sounds of activity resumed in my absence, which confirmed an unfortunate theory I toyed with while whittling the hours away with holograms and getting my head in order.

Once we were out of earshot, I addressed the elephant in the forest.

"Are you gonna explain that this time?" I whispered to Rob.

"Beg pardon?"

"Everyone being very uncomfortable with my presence. It was pretty hard to miss the first, second, and third times."

Rob's adventurous grin that he bore when going on a romp into the woods turned into a frown.

"Their reticence to welcome you as a fellow guest of Hideaway was inevitable, John Wizard." The name was something that he started calling me a while ago, and I hadn't bothered to contradict him. It sounded pretty cool. "These people have lost much, even before the High Sheriff's takeover. I was but a child then, but overlander aggression during the Great War spilled into Eurish and Efrika as they scrambled for fresh resources exhausted in their own country."

I missed a step going down the stairs, sailing off the edge and entering freefall. Not out of shock at what he said, but because I was incredibly clumsy and there still weren't any guardrails to be seen anywhere in the village.

"Wizard! Are you alright?"

"Y-Yeah!" I said as my body hovered midair, suspended in a glowing aura. Looking down, that fall would have killed me! Not wanting to push my luck further, I landed back on the stairs and held one hand to the tree as we continued down.

Taking a deep breath, I asked another question.

"How long ago was the Great War?" I paused. "How long has it been, I mean. I wasn't that old myself when it started."

"Some fifteen years hence? There are scars, still. Scars yet to be mended by time. Your choice of dress does not aid you in that area."

"It doesn't?"

"No. I know not if it is the standard wear for Overland cities, but your suit is not dissimilar to the uniforms of the Overlander military."

"Oh."

That would explain some of the 'hesitance', wouldn't it? When we finally reached the ground, I tried something I hadn't considered doing before. I wasn't wearing this jumpsuit before getting empowered, so the idea that I could change it wasn't completely out of left field. Taking a cue from local fashion, I focused my efforts on wearing something different.

"Will this work?" I asked as I gestured to my burgundy poncho.

A burgundy poncho was not the most extravagant thing I could imagine myself wearing, but it was simple and effective. The poncho had a hood for when it started raining, which had happened several times since I got here. English weather, to my lack of surprise.

Rob was slightly taken aback by my sudden costume change, but he nodded.

"It shall do."

We walked further away from Hideaway, not saying much else for however many minutes we spent reaching a clear blue pond. These trees all looked the same to me, so I couldn't tell if we were a mile from our starting location or walking in circles when I was told we were 'here'.

I looked around. "We are?"

"Thou did not jest about thine lack of directional senses."

"No, I didn't. Now, where are your friends? I can hardly see past my face out here."

"We're over here!" an unidentified voice said.

Attempting to look past the mist that resisted my attempts to see what was standing a few feet in front of me, I saw a handful of figures that stood near Rob O' the Hedge's height. Six in all.

"My friends and fellow freedom fighters," the teal archer called out to his kingsmen. "We have a new ally! Mayhaps ye would be so kind as to step forward?"

As they got closer, it became clear that all of the Merry Men were funny animals too. Not that I was surprised. The first one to approach was an antlered vicar with coarse robes of burlap dyed a dark olive green. Behind him was a pig in a brown tunic, a short rodent in a green cloak, a tall weasel in a grey frock coat, and a goat wearing a chartreuse cape with trousers. Each one was armed with a small bow and a short sword, but they were likely 'normal' size for the wielders.

"John Wizard, may I introduce thee to my good friends Friar Buck, Arthur Boar, David Dormouse, Will Stoatley, and Gilbert Woolhand!"

I kept a straight face and tried not to stare. I knew now that it wasn't weird only some of them were wearing pants, but was that a cultural thing? Were they rationing clothes like they were food? The Crazy Kritters, in turn, seemed rather unsure about me and my new poncho. I was still trying to wrap my head around the fact that I looked like the bad guys of the last war, and they didn't see fit to make any comments while I chewed over it.

I held up a hand to break the awkward pause. "Uh. Hi."

"Hail and well met, friend," said the deer. He sounded like the one who spoke earlier.

"He's an overlander?" the dormouse asked cautiously.

"He's a wizard?" the boar grumbled in a dismissive Cockney. "That o'erlander ain't no wizard!"

My heart skipped a beat. Was I that much of a transparent fraud?

He continued his rant. "Everybody knows that wizards ain't anything but fakes and fraudsters!"

I nearly exhaled a sigh of relief then and there.

The stoat crossed his arms. "Are you calling the king a liar, Arthur Boar? We have his own testimony that this overlander is the genuine article."

"Feh! No offense meant to King O'Hedge, but I will believe it when I see it!"

I rolled my eyes. I didn't deserve back talk from Porky's nonunion Londoner cousin, so I drew a card from nothing and turned it towards him.

"Joker?"

Most of the Crazy Kritters were surprised by the trick, but not outrageously so. Friar Buck seemed amused, while the boar rubbed his chin as he critically examined my prestidigitation.

"Nah. Can't fool me, mate! You pulled that one out of your sleeve!"

I frowned. "Are you kidding me? That card didn't exist a few seconds ago. It's magic!"

"A likely story!"

Rob O' the Hedge cleared his throat to get our attention. "Doubts set aside, I have united our band together to discuss the increased encroachment of the High Sheriff into Deerwood Forest."

"They are making progress," the vicar said. "Slowly, but steadily. The traps we'd lain in advance will harm their efforts, but only for so long. The rain is a blessing, for it will hamper them further."

"What sort of 'efforts' are we looking at?"

The ram turned to me and gestured broadly, like he was measuring a big fish he nearly caught.

"A deforestin' machine. Big metal tower on wheels, with a dozen's worth of saws and twice as many mechanical miscreants guarding it from free-minded folks like us."

"We nearly got caught trying to get a good look at the thing!" Daniel added. "We have to do something before the High Sheriff discovers Hideaway!"

"Got that right! What do ye all say take those explosive arrows the ol' Tinker made for us and do some creative redecorating on that rolling sawmill?"

Rob made a fist in the air. "Well said, Will! Attacking the vehicle shall cause the High Sheriff no small amount of inconvenience. We shall take a route around the machine's path to study how it moves and functions! Then, we shall make our strike!"

There were noises of agreement around our group. I said nothing at first, because I realized I had run out of time before I had to do something big again.

"…Alright. Let's get going."

The Crazy Kritters paused, staring at me.

"What? What'd I say?"

Friar Buck bore a genuine smile of bemusement. If anyone else made that face, I'd call it smug.

"We won't be moving right away, friend. Your exuberance to aid our cause is noble, but haste, as they say, makes waste."

"What are we waiting on? The sheep and the mouse said the thing was headed this way."

I could hardly believe the words coming out of my mouth, but I had a point to make. Daniel and Gilbert seemed a bit miffed at me, but I ignored them. I didn't have it in me to say their names without cracking up anyway.

"Aye, they did. Yet there are some things that cannot be skipped over."

Around me, the Crazy Kritters had put together camp in record time. I didn't even notice them start the fire, but it was already at a steady blaze. Over the fire was a black kettle boiling water while the dormouse began handing out travel snacks wrapped in a paper bag.

"Would you care for a spot of tea?"

---

The Crazy Kritters moved at breakneck pace after tea break ended. I would have described tagging along with them as a long-term camping trip, but I'd never gone camping and didn't feel like a happy camper. Deerwood Forest was a natural maze, impossible to navigate and harder still to walk through without tripping on gnarled roots. King Rob and his yeoman pals could climb trees and hop between branches with ease, but it rained twice between hours of travel and I wasn't dextrous enough to do what they could before the wood became too slippery to grip.

I learned that the hard way during my scouting missions with Rob days prior, suffering from several slip-ups that would have ended my life if I couldn't fly. Though, looking back, I distinctly remembered landing face-first into a lake and being smacked around by those metal mooks like a crystal pinata. That all hurt at the time, but it didn't kill me. Maybe there was a force field or other effect preventing me from getting mangled or pasted while I still had juice?

After several similar examples of why I should leave climbing to the professionals, I started doing things my way. Careful, frugal applications of flight to travel were slower, but they built up my control. I was moving faster, more precisely, with each jump.

♦ 66

That said, glowing with a hot pink magical aura was a great way to lose the element of surprise. It was for that reason that I stayed at a distance, following the Crazy Kritters while they blazed a trail towards the enemy. I was to serve as the artillery when we eventually got there.

"I hate to be that guy, but are we there yet?"

The funny animals froze before turning back to me, trepidatiously. Arthur Boar angrily mouthed something out to me, but I couldn't read lips. When I shrugged back a reply, Rob O' the Hedge gestured for me to fly closer with a finger to his lips. I took the hint and shut my mouth, quietly relocating my body so that I stood right next to him on the thickest side of a free branch so I could see what everyone else was looking at.

Across from us was a wide clearing. It would have an inspiring sight to behold, once upon a time, but now the area was only worth looking at if you cared for picturesque storybook landscapes gone wrong. A pair of deep trenches had been dug into the soft earth by an impossibly large machine. In and around the trenches were the remains of stumps and felled trees, crushed wooden chunks and splinters intermixing with the rainwater that pooled in them. Near as I could tell, the trees weren't even hauled away for logging or to be used as fuel; it was too damp to set them alight, so they were simply cut down and left to rot.

The level of damage was devastating. I'd seen pictures of deforestation before, but never anything so large. So close. I could hear the faint whirs and hums of an industrial machine that softly seared through the otherwise tranquil silence of the forest.

"We are close," Rob O' the Hedge whispered. "I can hear the machine on the horizon. I will take point. Move fleetly and with care, lest we draw undue attention."

The whole group nodded. At first, the slog through the woods was boring, but now I was feeling a level of trepidation. Anxiety. An understated fear of what could do this sort of thing, and the fact I was willingly getting closer to it. I could hardly hear anything when Rob said the machine was close, but it wasn't long until the other Crazy Kritters and I started hearing it too. That whir got louder and harsher as we followed its trail of destruction, until I could hardly hear myself think over the incessant noise of trees being cut and dropping to the grass.

Being a talking sheep didn't help matters, but I would have doubted anyone who claimed to have seen a mobile siege tower with twelve retractable saw blades before seeing it for myself. The tower was a sheer block of metal on tank treads, nearly taller than the tallest trees in sight and as wide as four of the broadest ones tied together. Giant circular saws were attached to segmented arms that lurched out of the machine and felled all trees that stood before it. The machine looked heavy enough to sink into the ground, but some diabolical quirk of engineering allowed it to stay standing to continue its attempt at anti-arboreal anarchy.


The High Sheriff's robots weren't far behind the deforester robot. The big enforcers were easy to pick out and out at a distance, but there weren't many of them. There were smaller robots alongside the big ones that looked odd. Like mechanical simulacrums of the animal people, complete with jagged metal renfaire garb. I caught glimpses of similar robots on some of the scouting trips, but never got a straight answer on what they were.

"Tho-- --es lo-- --fferent," I said in a loud, but hushed tone. "Wh-- --e they?"

"Ro----s!" Will replied. "Th- ---riff uses ----ticize- ---tims as labor--- -nd extr- ---cle! Ste-- --ear!"

What'd he say? I could hardly hear him over the sawing machine, but he was telling me to avoid them? I pressed for more info.

"----r clear? ----ldn't we destr-- --ose too?"

"Nay!" Gilbert hissed. He had to all but shout over the machine. "W- ----not destr-- --em!"

I frowned. Was this the bad blood I was warned about rearing its ugly head? When I saw the robians things, all it seemed they were doing was following the giant sawing machine and clearing the road of obstructions. Some of them had melee weapons and crossbows that made me rightly nervous that one would hit me in the back if I took my eyes off them.

"Lo--, -'- trying to under----d what they do --- -'d appreciate o-- -- you explain---."

"-- -on't get it? What's ---re to explain?"

I was getting exasperated. Angry. What were they not cluing me in on?

"--, - don't get it! They'r- --bots, right?"

"--- robians are not mere machines, J--- Wizard. We --all espouse the diff--ences at a lat-- date, but -- must not --ek their dest--ction."

A chorus of steam vented out of the exhaust ports lining the metal tower as it ceased sawing and ground to a halt.

"-- didn't have any problems destroying the rest of the robots!" I said, shouting loud enough to be heard over the heavy machinery. "Why not crush these robots in particular?"

My voice echoed out in the briefly quiet woods, followed by a tributary moment of silence as every sentient being in the forest, living or otherwise, heard me blurt out a stupid question.

"You bloomin' idiot!" Arthur Boar shouted in my ear. "Could you say that again? I don't believe they heard you in Downunda!"

Once that moment was over, the robians aimed their crossbows at the source of the disturbance and started firing.

"Scatter!" Rob O' the Hedge called out.

The Crazy Kritters lept and rolled in five different directions, leaving me dumbfounded as I was at risk of being riddled with metal bolts. I held up my arms to guard my chest and face, raising a spherical shield of energy around my body with it. The tree was punctured with the bolts that didn't bounce off my protective barrier, leaving me surprisingly unharmed.

"What the--?!!"

♦ 65

All around me, the Crazy Kritters were in combat with the forces of the High Sheriff. The robots were protecting their saw tower, while the freedom fighters were trying to shut it down.

Plink!

More bolts plinked--

Plink!

--plinked off my energy bubble while I--

Plink!

--tried to come up with a plan over that annoying--

Plink!

♦ 64

"Would you cut that out?"

I dived, my shield stretching into a cone as I rammed through a line of robians. They fell to either side of me as I zipped up and down, my shied acting as an improvised bulldozer.

♦ 63

I was flying on instinct, what little flying experience I had collected from flight simulators going straight out the window. I wasn't immediately eating dirt or passing out from vertigo, but my eyes could hardly keep track of the rapidly shifting scenery. It was a miracle I didn't accidentally hit an ally in the chaos.

As a counterpoint, there wasn't a rush quite like flying faster than I drove on the highway.

"I'm doing it!" I shouted as dodged infantry fire from up above. "Ha ha! I'm doing--"

My neck and everything attached to it ached from whiplash as I impacted against the sessile saw tower. The massive structure wobbled as I was flung backwards, sinking several feet into the mud while I tumbled and sputtered to the ground.

♦ 61

"…Ow."

Struggling to get back up, my eyes flashed open to find a red-tipped lance pointed to my neck.

"You'll draw nary a breath further, organic knave!"

"What?"

I blinked again, totally disbelieving of what was in front of me. I could believe the rest of everything that was occurring, but this was the straw that broke the camel's back.

Attached to the pointed lance was a giant horse head made out of cast iron, with glowing red eyes and steam pouring out of its nostrils. Under the horse head was a large, barrel-like shield stuck to the front of a truck wheel. The horse head was nearing my face, making it harder to ignore it was there.

"Have at thee!"

Huh. Okay then. Guess I was crazy after all.

Spoiler: Author Notes / Lore

Hideaway's appearance was taken from the books. OSHA would have a field day there.

The Crazy Kritters are based on the Merry Men. Outside of Friar Buck, a canon character, these folks are OCs based on the ones nobody remembers.

Arthur a Bland / Arthur the Boar
David of Doncaster / David the Dormouse
Will Stutley / Will Stoatley
Gilbert Whitehand / Gilbert Woolhand
The Tinker / The Tinker

I won't explain them all, but Arthur being a boar was inspired from the pun (bland/bore/boar) and a robian extra I saw in a panel. Figured he could use a backstory.

I thought they were called the "Krazy Kritters", but that turned out to be wrong. The two "K"s would have been funnier, but I had to change it to the actual spelling for authenticity.

 

[weredrago2]

Ruby Haze
Chapter 4: Hammer and the Black Knight

This was it. This was how I died. Not in a car crash on the highway or by getting stabbed in rapid succession while minding my own business, but being gored to death by a mechanical unicorn on a unicycle. If you squinted, it was a very unhappy medium between the two.

I was lying prone on my back. Frozen stiff. The robot's steel horn hovering a few inches over my jugular. Made it difficult to think clearly about how to escape. I ended up walking away from Rob O' the Hedge's friendly fire, but this piercing implement was larger and aimed on a vital area.

I wasn't confident about my chances.

Moments dripped past slowly. My perception of time slowed to a crawl. The robot was trying to tease a response out of me. Even made a few more teasing remarks, but I couldn't hear them. If I tried to fly away it'd go straight for the kill. I could pull up a shield, but would I be fast enough?

My whole body was shaking. I didn't want to risk it.

"Not going to make this sporting?" the unicorn sneered. "Then I shall put you out of my misery!"

The lance retracted and then thrust down at me! I screamed, wanting to be anywhere but in the way of that horn!

"Ah!"

Colorful spots and flashes enveloped my vision! Red, white, and pink streaks of lightning raced across an endless expanse of purple and magenta clouds. Beyond that was nothing but black.

"Ah?"

♦ 60

I blinked. I was floating a couple of feet away from where I was moments ago. Unharmed, but rattled by the sudden jaunt and jostle. I didn't think I could teleport, but what else could that have been? Besides something I wished I knew about sooner.

The cavalry robot's horn was plunged into the ground where I had been. He retracted his horn with a snort and locked eyes on me again.

"So! It seems you have some tricks to you after all!" the machine said in an approximation of Received Pronunciation.

I kept my distance, scanning my peripheral vision for a status update on the Crazy Kritters. The stoat and dormouse had taken cover behind a thicket of trees, peppering the robians with suppressing fire while the ram and the boar took on the big ogre machines with their blades. The metal armor resisted sword swings and thrusts, but their joints and exposed wiring were another story. Where were the Friar and O'Hedge?

"What are you?" I asked the black, mono-wheeled menace. There were several other questions I wanted to ask, but there wasn't time to ask them all from a hostile foe.

"I am an enforcer of the High Sheriff's will!" the unicorn said as he revved up his engines and faced his lance at me. With the roar of an engine, he charged!

Even though I knew he was coming, it moved far too fast! I barely swerved to avoid a piercing blow, getting grazed in the arm by the sharpened tip of his lance. My black outfit was torn at the point of impact, slowly mending itself before my eyes.

"Alright, that's it!" I shouted as I went airborne, preparing a glowing energy ball in my hands to deal with him from above. "Can't get me up here, can you?"

The knight laughed. "Have you never played chess, peon?"

I thought about it for a second, as a torrent of flame erupted from the unicorn's back! In an instant, it took flight on rocket thrusters and attempted to run me through!

"THE KNIGHT JUMPS!!"

The distance between us zeroed out! I scrambled to get out of the way, only managing to disperse the energy I had gathered to make a flimsy crystal wall and deflect his attack. The monowheel made contact with my shield and ripped it to shreds before the knight bounced off my body and shot hot exhaust in my face.

I drifted to the ground, hacking up warm smoke and toxic fumes that had taken residence in my lungs. Too distracted to mount a real defense or offense, I instead tried to keep my eyes open and watch which angle this opponent would try hitting me from next.

"You've provided some entertainment, drood!" the knight said with a chuckle. "Overlanders and rebels of a mystic inclination are rather scarce in these times, but I'll relish the chance to paint my polearm sanguine with the humors of an Overland magician!"

I growled. An actual, primal growl that surprised me when it came out. A created rows of three-dimensional barriers and road hazards around myself, making it a little more difficult to reach me while I bought time and made a more concrete plan for escaping this fight alive.

"A maze?" The knight was already making his way through the projections, driving around walls and rolling over caltrops like they weren't there at all. "Surely you jest! My processor is the sharpest of all in the Royal Army!"

I fired an energy beam between a pair of pillars to slow him down, but all it did was tag his armor pink. If it impacted his progress at all, he didn't show it in the slightest.

"You only delay the inevitable! Perchance I could convince you to surrender? The High Sheriff would order you hanged, of course, but turning in your allies as well as yourself may grant you a stay of execution!"

I aimed one hand down to make a thick spike appear under him, but that only caused the knight to hop over it! What were his tires made out of, flubber? I couldn't even pop them with a row of razor blades that cropped up like grass.

"Not doing a good job of convincing me, Mister Ed!"

The knight stopped in his tracks, turning on a dime to face me. He was one straight shot away from finishing what he started and turning me into a shish kebab.

"Mister Ed?" he said, confused. "Though I am feared and known by my epithet as the Black Knight of Mercia, your irksome resilience has earned you the privilege of knowing my name!"

I formed another energy orb in my hands. The glow was nearly as shaky as I was, trying to hold it together. This next shot may be my last one.

"Okay. I'll bite. What is it?"

"You may call me… the Dark Horse!"

I stopped. The barriers and all of my other attempts to harry him dropped. The energy at my fingertips became a consistent rapid pulse as my eyes opened wide with unbridled rage.

"YOU THINK THIS IS FUNNY!?" I snarled as I lunged at the unicorn with a massive, crystalline warhammer in my hands. The shaft was nearly as tall as I was, the boxy head not far behind it.

"Blimey!"

My rapid attack put the knight on the backfoot. He went into reverse to avoid getting his head knocked off in a single swing. I was moving the hammer faster than my arms could swing, so it was more like the hammer was moving by my will and the rest of me was along for the ride.

"Such fire!" the unicorn said as I tried to break him into little, tiny pieces. "Such a temper! But you cannot expect me to fall so easily to an untrained novice!"

I kept up my assault. As long as he didn't have time to prepare a charge, he could only swing his horn around to defend himself. If I could pen him into the trees or another large obstacle, he'd be the one going back to Snottingham in a box. Not me.

Our fight had taken us further away from the sawing machine. Right behind him, I saw a tree stump that had avoided getting ripped out by the robians due to our sudden interruption. I could still hear the sounds of combat elsewhere, but everyone else involved in this skirmish had the good sense to stay out of our way.

The stump wasn't going to be enough to knock him over, but it gave me another idea.

"Run out of power yet?" I asked as I continued by frenzy. I knew my own reserves had to be taking a hit, but I couldn't get a sense for how much I was burning without losing focus again.

"Neigh! My deluxe battery reserves would not be so easily expended by the likes of you!"

I levitated backwards and pointed at the stump, my hammer hefted up onto one shoulder.

"Good! My job is done, Rob! He's all warmed up!"

Dark Horse spun around, his upper body facing the stump. There, he saw Rob O' the Hedge in a pose, his bow aiming a luminous arrow at the knight's center of mass.

"Do mine eyes deceive me? If it isn't the braggadocious blackguard, the Dark Horse! For what reason do you vex these hallowed hinterlands when you could face me directly?"

The knight aimed his horn at the woodland critter that appeared before him. Sucker.

"My Sheriff has spent far too long searching for you, you vandalous hedgehog!"

I took the hammer off my shoulder, getting a better measure of its weight.

"You may strike me down, Dark Horse, but the will of the people will not be silenced so easily!"

"The will of the people? Fie on the people! They live to serve until we roboticize them! Then they have no choice but to work as gears and servos on the assembly line as our slaves!"

The image of Rob O' the Hedge shimmered slightly. A flash of pink fire went unnoticed by Dark Horse, who was too wrapped up in his own speech to notice my slip up from that nugget of intel.

"P-Poppycock! The Sheriff's dark reign shall come to an end, even if it kills me!"

The knight laughed again. "You've lost already, O'Hedge! Do my ears deceive me, or do I detect the sense of defeat in your voice, too?"

I lifted the hammer all the way behind my back, until it nearly scraped the dirt. The area around Dark Horse's wheel was being enveloped in crystal growths, a lattice of which had formed around his lower chassis and wheel hub.

When 'Rob' gave his counter-argument, I didn't even bother to throw my voice or change the way it sounded. I used the extra time to add a large spike to my hammer's face instead.

"It's not just your ears! Get gelded, horse!"

Dark Horse stalled, his one wheel spinning helplessly because my crystals killed his traction and suspended him above the ground. His boosters were jammed when I shoved spires up them.

"What?!"

His head and horn made it halfway back to me when I drove the hammer straight down.

"I've been dec--"

The iron horse's head was the first thing to deform, followed by his horn when it snapped off its hardpoint like a twig. The wheel popped under the pressure of the hammer, and the suspension broke in a shower of ruptured springs. His shield flew off entirely and embedded itself in a tree.

I thought the hammer blow had 'killed' the Dark Horse, but to my surprise the mangled knight wriggled loose from under my heavy mallet. Some of his metal teeth flew off when I caved the robot's head in, making it seem comical when he attempted to wobble away.

"Gadzooks!" the knight exclaimed in a whistling voice with motor oil spittle. "You put me in check!"

I groaned and used the non-business end of my hammer to shove him off his axis. The machine tumbled over and I held its head to face mine. Much easier to do without that horn in the way.

"Very funny. Now tell your goons to back off before I tear your head off and leave it somewhere."

"Neigh, drood! I shall never give into the demands of a freedom fighter!"

I spare a glance to where the bulk of the action was supposed to be. The combat appeared to have winded to a halt, as the Crazy Kritters left the robians tied up and the big drones broken down. A plume of smoke poured out of the highest segment of the tower. A rope spilled from a port in the tower, and out with it came Rob and Friar Buck.

What was my charge at?

♦ 50

Oh, that wasn't good. Halfway to being powerless, or worse. My heart sank at the thought of it when I felt a sort of hum in the air. A resonance that began from the stone on my hand. I blinked, and closed my eyes to concentrate on where it was going.

In my mind's eye, the center of the robot's body was glowing a warm reddish color. A warning? A clue? I had to know more.

"Tell you what. The offer to cooperate has been put to pasture."

The knight grimaced. "Put to pasture? You deign to mock an agent of the Grand Kingdom?"

"No," I said as I shrunk the hammer down to a pink crowbar and placed one foot on his twisted-up head. "I deign to crack you open and see what makes you tick."

Dark Horse let out a shill, metallic whinny as I snapped his breastplate off and examined his insides. A big, glowing cube covered in interconnected wires made up the bulk of it. It ran hot and was leaking caustic liquid, like a futuristic car battery. Some sort of power source?

A power source! I couldn't help but smile at the robot once I figured it out.

"Congrats, neigh-sayer. You get to help the cause by giving me a jumpstart."

Before he could ask what I meant, I plunged my left hand into his innards and pulled! Cascading arcs of bright white electricity flowed out of the Dark Horse's battery and changed color as they funneled into my shining gem!

♦ 51

"What are you… doing?" the machine asked, his voice becoming slower, more muted.

"I believe the practical term is 'siphoning'. Your power is mine now. Since your boss is the only guy with industrial capability around here, he's gonna have a lot more trouble now that I know what I have to do to keep the meter running."

♦ 52

The knight looked perplexed, but I didn't care to elaborate further. The lights in his eyes flickered until they died, and the battery went dead with him.

It wasn't worth much, but it was something.

I abandoned the wrecked robot and walked back to the rest of the Crazy Kritters. Looked like the tower was damaged, presumably with whatever was powering it. Darn.

"I dealt with the bad guy!" I shouted to my fellow 'freedom fighters'. "Now what do we do?"

They were looking at me funny. Again. The robians were bound and blindfolded, but I suspected they would have reacted to me going full ham on that and draining Dark Horse like a robot vampire. Now that I knew robians were converted animals or something along those lines, I felt sorta queasy, but not guilty.

Was I supposed to feel bad about what I did? I didn't feel anything about it, to the extent that I was concerned. What was I supposed to be feeling?

Rob O' the Hedge took center to address us as a group. "Superb work, friends! Were any casualties borne of our endeavors?"

"I'm alright," Daniel said.

"No he isn't," Will said. "He got shot in the arm and is trying to be tough."

"I can put it in a sling?" Friar Buck offered. Daniel nodded. "Good. Gilbert, Arthur?"

"Hale and hearty here."

"The only thing that got shattered is my suspension o' disbelief," Arthur said with his arms crossed. "Alright, mate, I fold. The man really is a wizard."

"John Wizard, are you well?"

I shrugged. "Fine enough."

Rob O' the Hedge smiled. "Then let us be off! The deforestation engine has been rendered inoperable, and further efforts to encroach on our land shall be hampered rather than aided by its continued presence."

I looked at the mostly intact vehicle. "Are you sure? If he got some engineers on site, I reckon the Sheriff could--"

The top, middle, and bottom segments of the tower exploded simultaneously. Bits of metal flung themselves to the ground, but none large enough to be dangerous. The machine was wrecked.

"Forget I said anything." I then turned to the robians. "What about them?"

"Alas, we must leave them."

"Really?"

Arthur Boar scowled. "What do you expect us to do with them? We can't turn 'em back and we can't do anything worse to them than leave them for the Sheriff to pick up later."

I could think of a few things they could do, but it wasn't really my call to make. I wasn't in charge and I didn't know enough to argue. Reluctantly, I nodded.

"Fine. We leave them. Leaving their weapons too?"

"Forsooth," Rob said. "They shall be of no use to us."

I looked at their scattered swords and cudgels. The strewn crossbows and all of the stray bolts.

"Don't think so."

"Beg pardon?"

I picked up the least damaged crossbow and started collecting bolts. One of the robians dropped a holdall bag in the fracas, so I looted that too.

"I'm no good with a bow and arrow. Unless we're swinging by the gun store on the way back, I'm taking one of these crossbows and maybe a club to go. Hey Will, pass that stick to me?"

Stoatley handed me the long, weighty staff one of the robians was swinging about. On account of it not being a very complicated weapon, I grabbed it and tested the length. It was perfect for self defense and a functional walking stick. Then I loaded a few other weapons into the sack.

"Think your tinkering friend could make use out of these?" I asked. "Better we have a bunch of junk we can't use than them."

"Sir Wagstaff is very resourceful. Indeed he could, if you can carry it all to his workshop."

I lift up the sack. It didn't weigh as much as it looked, but I had flight to provide extra lift. So it probably still weighed a lot but was distributed differently.

"I can."

"Then we'll be off. Another successful mission, one and all!"

I spared a glance at Dark Horse's ruined body before we left.

---

It was dusk when we returned to Hideaway. I tossed my new weapons bag to the least occupied side of my room, blew out the candles, and dropped on to my bed. I was too exhausted to fiddle around with a crossbow in low-light conditions and instead tried to get some shut-eye. Assuming nothing interrupted me, it'd be my first night of actual sleep this week.

My eyes closed, my breathing slowed, and I felt my consciousness slowly drift away. After a few seconds, I heard footsteps and immediately shot up again.

"Need something?" I asked whoever was at the door. "I'm awake, what is it?"

"Sorry," a young girl's voice said. I could make out a rough silhouette of her in the doorway. "I'll leave."

"Wait. Rosy? Rob's cousin, right?"

"Yeah. It's a nickname."

For some reason, she didn't speak in the over-the-top Shakespearean trainwreck that everyone else in Hideaway did. Not the RP accent of the unicorn knight, either.

"Right. Rosy, did you need something?"

She shuffled slightly. I relit my candle and turned around so that I was facing her. Rosy was a short, pink critter with huge eyes that was sufficiently less scary when I knew she was coming. Probably the most colorful one of them I've seen.

Rosy was wearing a cloak or a really big blanket. She got out of bed for this?

"Well… I was just wondering… You're a wizard, right?"

"Yes." It stopped being a weird thing to say in response to the question a while ago.

"I heard wizards are good at spelling," she said as she held out a letter. "Could you proofread this for me? It's for a… special friend."

I roll my eyes. "Sure, Rosy. I'm a decent editor. When do you need this back by?"

"Tomorrow. The courier takes it in the morning!"

We have a courier? Was it one of the Crazy Kritters? I knew I hadn't met all of them.

"Cool. I can kill a few hours working on this."

Rosy skipped out of my hut. "Thanks, John Wizard! You're the best!"

"Whatever."

She poked her head out again. "And good job beating that mean old knight! Nice hammer work!"

"…Thanks."

With my sleep interrupted, I pulled out the letter with the intent to look it over for any grammar mistakes or typos. Rosy sounded pretty young and her education was interrupted by a military junta taking over her country, so I didn't know what to expect.

Those scant expectations didn't prepare me for what I read on the first line. I had to stop, thinking I had misread it. Then I read it again. Slower, more deliberate. Just to make sure there wasn't anything wrong with how I was reading it, or some sort of linguistic quirk to the local language that I hadn't uncovered before.

It all made sense. In a gross, horrific clarity, it made sense in such a way that I couldn't ignore anymore. That was one of the first things I considered and the last thing I ever wanted to be true, because I didn't know how I would take the truth. I still don't know how I took it.

I couldn't even read the words after that initial line. I was so incredibly focused on who the letter was addressed to that I couldn't cogitate anything that came after it.

"Dear Sonic the Hedgehog,"

I stared at those four words until the sun came up.

---

Spoiler: Author Notes / Lore

Dark Horse is an original character based on the Adventures of Sonic the Hedgehog-style goofy badnik villains, with a malicious twist.

Amy Rose being Sonic's pen pal for a period of time before her move to Knothole was part of the reason she got kidnapped by Robotnik. Though the original issue had to deal with him being upset because of all of the fan mail Sonic received at Archie Comics because of the book, this was later retconned when they wanted to go serious.

 

[weredrago2]

Ruby Haze
Chapter 5: Splitting Hares

Recent events had made me quick to question my entire existence. Everything that's happened to me in the past, everything that had happened to me in the present, and everything that will happen to me in the future felt as though they had a black shadow of doubt hanging over them.

This was all boiling under the surface before I edited the letter addressed to Sonic the Hedgehog, Hero of Mobius, written by one Amy "Rosy the Rascal" Rose. My work was hasty and unsteady since I had spent hours of that time staring at the letter in shock, but Amy was a very good writer for her age. Eight, I think. I hardly had to do much before numbly handing it back to her for delivery.

Days tended to blur together when I didn't have a calendar on hand, but that was doubtlessly the biggest thing on my mind. Amy sent hearts and kisses for the conquering hero who put "Ro-butt-nik" in his place whenever the postman came by. It was nauseatingly gushy, to the extent I would have blanched if I didn't want to dry heave. Rob had kindly informed me that he sent an update to Knothole on our successful operations alongside Amy's letter, meaning it'd be a matter of time before Sonic the Hedgehog knew about me.

I eventually worked up the nerve to ask Rob the dreaded questions that I was afraid to know the answers to. Sonic was not only a real person, but he and his freedom fighter friends were the greatest stalwart defenders of justice West of the Central Sea. Their archnemesis was, of course, Doctor Robotnik, the corpulent global despot who placed the High Sheriff into a position of power so that he could pacify the Kingdom of Mercia indefinitely.

I wasn't trapped in a normal alien world. I was trapped in someone else's story.

How could I have been so blind? So dense? Rob O' the Hedge looked just like Sonic. The only difference was his color, and teal wasn't even that far off from blue! I should have put that together immediately. It was as though some part of my brain recognized all of the evidence, made the necessary deductions, and then burned the connecting bridges to that knowledge so that I was unable to put the dots together sooner. My own mind boggled me.

Why?

Gazing down at the Phantom Ruby on my hand, I wondered. This little pink rock from a game I liked (and another I didn't) was now stuck to me. Was it to blame? For my unreliable memory? For my mood swings? Where did the blame for my current circumstances start and end? If this Phantom Ruby was anything like the one I remembered from the games, then I'd only scratched the surface of the truly bonkers power it was capable of.

Changing reality on a whim. Flipping gravity like a switch. Creating life from nothing. Making suns and throwing them willy-nilly!

I shuddered. Who in the right mind would ever give that sort of power to me?

There was a yank on the rope attached to my waist.

"Hey!" Arthur exclaimed. "Keep it steady up there! We're delicate cargo!"

I replied back with a quick apology and balanced my flight. Had to keep my head in the game. There was so much to think about. In my absentmindedness, I had forgotten I was carrying Rob O' the Hedge, Arthur Boar, and Gilbert Woolhand in a reclaimed hot air balloon basket. David was on the mend and Stoatley was checking in with the South Mercian rebels. I hadn't met any of them yet, but the South Mercians had French accents so strong they could be read in the letters dropped off by the mailman. Said mailman was, himself, a French snail.

Ugh. If there was some threshold of frustration and confusion I could reach where my mindset looped back around to complete tranquility and acceptance, I haven't reached it yet.

Below us, the forest gradually thinned out. There were still evergreens in every direction, but as I flew further North we saw vast plateaus of grassland and stony outcrops among erected menhirs and dolmens. What I thought was the Sonic version of Stonehenge laid out on the map of Mercia was actually denoting a multitude of megaliths.

After noticing how easy it was for me to haul around objects, it was Rob's idea for me to do the same for the Crazy Kritters as team transport. A clever exploit of what I could do, but at my rate of expenditure I wouldn't be able to do it every time we needed to be somewhere fast.

♦ 45

Unfortunately, the Mercian Freedom Fighters wouldn't be motorized any time soon. I was able to sit down with Hideaway's resident tinkerer, an old schnauzer named Wagstaff, but the news he had about getting the rebels on wheels wasn't heartening. The High Sheriff held all of the cards in terms of power and production. Hideaway barely had enough material for us to scrape by as it was, but even if we had bikes and tanks the same Deerwood Forest that prevented the army from rounding us up for roboticizing would get in the way when trying to drive.

That was a shame. Mechanized infantry would be a serious edge. Even better weapons or armor could level the playing field. It wasn't impossible to get our hands on them, but as it was we were too outmanned and outgunned. I considered testing if I could simply wish them into existence with the Phantom Ruby, but what was my guarantee they wouldn't poof away when I wasn't devoting my continued concentration to them?

I slowed after we passed several rows of standing stones. The region looked downright Neolithic, and the idea that anyone lived here felt remote. We hadn't seen any villages or signs of civilization besides the rocks.

"Who built all of these things?"

"We know not their architects," Rob O' the Hedge said as he surveyed the area with his collapsible spyglass. "Legend tells of ancient droods who enlisted the aid of the Highlanders in erecting the megaliths and scattering them 'cross Mercia. Yet their purposes were lost to time."

"Druids? Dark Horse seemed to think I was a druid."

"Naw," Gilbert said. "Droods."

I rolled my eyes.

"Ah, right. Droods. Want me to drop us off here, Rob?"

"Verily. If thine eyes do not deceive me, then I have found our captured allies in transit!"

I gently lowered the basket and looked around. From a distance, it looked like a colorful ship of the line on a half-track was rolling down the Highlands. The battleship barely fit between the hills and followed the dirt road on a technicality, being far too wide to actually fit on the narrow strip.

"A landship," I uttered, unable to wrap my head around it. "Why does the High Sheriff have landships?"

"The great land frigates were produced near the end of the Great War. Built too late to serve their intended purpose, my father attempted to turn them towards peacekeeping ends."

Gilbert and Arthur brought smaller monoculars. I borrowed both to get a view for myself.

"They weren't very good at peacekeeping, but those big hulls and bolt throwers scared the Dickens out of common folk," Gilbert said. "When it seemed the peacetime was here to stay, King O'Hedge retired the frigates and broke them down for parts."

Rob gripped his telescope tightly. "Most of them were destroyed. I know not how he became aware of where the last ones were hidden, but once again the High Sheriff has subverted my father's legacy to his own malicious ends."

I glanced at the medieval anti-air guns the frigate was loaded with as it rolled closer into view. Those ballistae weren't going to be hurling bolts or stones if I got within firing range. I could see the gleaming points of massive harpoons. Land harpoons.

"Really, does everyone want me skewered and served on a hot plate?"

"Beg pardon?"

"You mentioned having a plan for getting onboard and freeing the prisoners this morning, right? I'm antsy about getting more people on our side, but not antsy enough to get a projectile log through my chest."

"Indeed, John Wizard. Wagstaff was one of few royal engineers granted access to the landship schematics in the crown archives. He revealed to me a hidden hatch in the bilge from which we may enter undetected and release the dyed warriors of the Highland Warrens from captivity."

According to the rundown of Mercian history Rob had given me, Mercia, the Highlands, and the Lowlands were once three separate kingdoms until they were united "in noble cause" generations prior. The Highlands maintained their own culture that drew strong comparisons to Medieval Scotland, but the monuments and his descriptions of woad-soaked fighting rabbits reminded me of the Picts too. I got the impression the Highlands were fairly Gaelic in nature, but I'd raise some concerns if the inhabitants started showing arbitrary Irish traits willy-nilly.

"Which part's the bilge?" asked Arthur.

"The bottom. Is the backdoor closer to the bow or stern?"

"Stern. Thou did not mention thee were a sailor."

"Took a boating course. The bilge and keel are extraneous if you're turning a ship into a carrier, so it's as good a place as any to hide an escape hatch." I paused, considering the potential uses for frigates on wheels. "For curiosity's sake, what happened to those landship designs?"

"Burned, at the swiftest opportune moment."

I shrugged.

"Oh well."

Admittedly, there was only so much you could do with a wooden personnel carrier before someone had the cheeky idea of tossing a match at it. It would have been my first solution to dealing with the boat and everyone in it if we didn't have hostages to rescue. Really, we'd be better off attaching wheels to smaller dinghies and using those for ground transport instead.

…Or, more practically, using carts and tossing the "land boat" thing entirely.

The four of us slid down the sloping hill, away from direct sight. I was better at keeping up with the group now, guarding the rear and carrying our equipment in my haversack. We darted between short tunnels carved into the knolls and tall, upright stones. That left us within close range of the lumbering craft, but there was no cover where we had to make a run for the stern.

"Hold on," I said, one hand extended. "May I try something? It might improve our chances."

"You gonna cut up the boat into chunks?" Arthur asked.

"No."

"Will you blot out the sun so that we may travel in darkness?" Gilbert suggested.

"No."

"Shall ye cloak us in the shades of greenery so that we may travel in disguise?" Rob inquired.

"No." I paused. "Actually, yes. That last one was correct. Allow me."

There were a lot of things I didn't know about military strategy or guerilla tactics, but one thing I knew was camouflage. Crypsis was a subject close to my heart. The stealth action games I'd been playing for years introduced me to the benefits of military camo. I went on to study it as a private passion, integrating it into my own games I'd run. I made a theatrical master camoufleur a major character in a supers campaign just so that I'd have an outlet for all of my cryptic supervillain desires. It panned out perfectly in terms of making my audience paranoid and letting me stretch my creative muscles, but it took me until now to realize I could apply that expertise to the real world.

Well, the world I was on now. Whether or not it or anything else was real at this point was academic.

Using the seas of grass as a focus point, I covered us all in wavy green stripes that blended in with the Highland hillsides. A magic coat of paint for everyone, from which illusory grass grew in my approximation of a ghillie suit. Considering the ghillie suit was generally believed to be a Scottish invention, I was merely repaying the favor.

The group examined themselves and each other. I was the only one who could see through the camo effect unhindered, but it wasn't like they were struck blind. It was easy for us to see one another at close range, but the sentries on the ship shouldn't be able to see us coming.

"Zounds!" Rob said as he walked up to me. "A clever display of thaumaturgy. Against the hills, it is as though we art invisible!"

"Thanks, but we aren't really invisible. If they see the grass moving funny, they're gonna shoot first and ask questions later."

"Aye. We shall travel one at a time to avoid arousing suspicion."

Rob raised his sword up to do a catchphrase. The others reciprocated his gesture.

"Crazy Kritters: Tally-ho!"

"Tally-ho!"

"Tally-ho!"

I couldn't resist. I raised my own sword up too.

"Tally-ho."

Rob O' the Hedge made his advance across the tall grasses, crawling inch by inch to the ship while avoiding contact with the massive wheels and caterpillar tracks. Gilbert and Arthur were next, followed by myself. I held my breath as I glided over the ground, freezing when I caught the eyes of a robian watchman glaze over me. Only when he turned around did I join the others.

We rolled under the ship and pried the bottom hatch open with our blades. Not wanting a repeat of the incident from last time, not a word was exchanged as we quickly climbed aboard.

The cargo hold was dark and foreboding. Not pitch black due to cracks of light from the decks above us. The telltale glowing eyes of the robots were absent, meaning we weren't detected. Yet.

Why was it so hot? We couldn't be near the engine, could we? This was the steerage, and would someone making a wooden landship be crazy enough to put a combustible engine in it?

Then again, I may have answered my own question.

"Permission to turn on the lights?" I whispered to Rob.

"Permission granted," he whispered back.

I dispersed our grassland camo and made another illusion, this time of a red ghost light to illuminate the immediate area around us. A good fifteen feet in a circle centered around myself.

There were several gasps of fear and surprise when I activated the lamp, and none of them came from us. The steerage was filled with rabbits in chains. Men, women, and some children, all of them in earth tones with drooping ears and drab, ragged clothing. Increasing the range of my will o' wisp, there had to be over a hundred of them crowded at the bottom of the ship! I hadn't seen this many people in one spot in a week, but this was by no time to celebrate.

"It's the Highland lops," Gilbert said in shock.

"King O'Hedge!" several of the rabbits cried out.

Their accents sounded suitably Scottish, but more than that they sounded desperate. How long have they been down here? I was distressed to see as many non-combatants as I did. I thought we were saving hardened warriors, but most of the men who would have been fighting fit looked ill or wounded. The traditional non-combatants were in a similarly sorry state.

What happened to them?

"People of the Highlands," Rob said in a gentle tone. "The Crazy Kritters have come to liberate you from the High Sheriff's bondage. Please, be still while we remove thy fetters and we shall lead you to freedom!"

There were muted cheers mixed in with sighs of relief. I was worried. With all of this noise, we didn't have long before someone heard the ruckus and came down here to check it out.

"We are saved!"

"Gramercy, your majesty!"

"Bless you!"

Rob looked uncomfortable with receiving all of their praise, but he humbly accepted them out of courtesy. I took my cue and pulled out the bolt cutters, handing pairs out to the Crazy Kritters and anyone else who was strong enough to use them. We worked quickly and spread out to free every rabbit in the steerage, though even when I was part of a rescue party I had to deal with animal people hesitant to go near me. Their need to survive weighted out over preconceived notions, allowing us to cut them all loose in minutes.

"Bad news," Arthur Boar said as we regrouped. "Going out the way we came's not gonna work. The guards will catch wise before we can make a clean break."

"Arthur's right. I don't think I can cover that many people. We'll be noticed."

"Forsooth, thou are right. We must commandeer this vessel from the Lansquenets for ourselves."

"Lansquenets?"

I wasn't sure why I asked. I was doubtlessly going to be meeting them anyway. Arthur was the one to answer my question as I searched through my bag for my next set of gifts.

"Mercenaries who terrorized Mercia on the High Sheriff's payroll. We saw their colors on the side of the ship. The Sheriff liked their work so much, he roboticized the lot o' them and they extended a permanent line of credit since."

"How quaint."

I turned towards the rabbit POWs.

"We brought some additional weapons. Swords and crossbows. Raise your hands if you're still strong enough to fight, and you'll be provided one or the other."

I gave them all a few seconds, but there were far less hands than I was hoping for. Most of the rabbits were still stunned that we came for them at all, unable to answer. Many of the ones who could work past that game changer were too weakened by prior battles and the rigors of confinement to take arms and fight again.

The volunteers we did receive were men with wrenched limbs or walking on crutches, young women in black robes, and children younger than I guessed the dormouse was. I thought we were pulling off the rabbit version of Braveheart, but it clicked: The Sheriff got all of the able-bodied warriors already. These were the survivors and dependents previously left behind.

Gilbert took half the weapons, but was more discerning with who he let receive them than I was.

"You sure this is a good idea?" he said to me. It was meant to be a whisper, but we were surrounded by people known for their heightened hearing. I don't even know why he bothered.

"No," I said. Meant it, too. "But it beats them staying defenseless."

I handed out the last crossbow to a young widower who had a look in her eyes that said "If ye dinnae hand me a weapon a'm aff ta pull it offa yer cold, dead hands." Those exact words were also coming out of her mouth, making the woman doubly convincing.

The tinker had me arming the partisans with plunger-tipped bolts, which looked stupid but had the power to knock a robian off their feet. It was the least lethal weapon we could agree on, and while I could argue with the aesthetics I couldn't find anything wrong with the results.

"The prisoners are armed, Rob." I look around at the ten or so rabbits we've armed. A tenth of the total prisoners. "Give or take. What's the plan?"

"Crazy Kritters at the front of the charge. Women and children stay in the steerage for now, but--"

The door at the top of the cargo hold swiveled open, and a metal badger head stuck out from it.

"Oi!" the brutish badger shouted. "What's all the ruckus about?"

I was the first to respond, letting loose a pink tendril from the Phantom Ruby and coiling it around his neck.

"What the!? I'm coming down there!"

He didn't know the half of it. I tightened my grip and yanked the badger to the bilge, dragging the ladder to the lower deck down with him.

♦ 44

The Highlanders who weren't armed, even in their suboptimal states, were strong enough to mob the robian and weigh him down with their excess chains. The robot badger didn't get much of a word in before being smothered. Above us, I could hear the heavy footsteps of reinforcements coming down from the gundecks. Judging by the garish uniform the badger was wearing, I had to assume he and his buddies were the Lansquenets.

"Looks like we're in for another fight. Does one of you want to say it, or should I?"

"Say what?" asked Gilbert.

The other Crazy Kritters were equally confused, but to my surprise the Highland partisans were on the same wavelength I was. Guess they had the word on their mind long before we got here.

"FREEDOM!!!"

Spoiler: Author Notes / Lore

The Highland region is inspired by Sonic and the Black Knight. Specifically the Titanic Plains and Great Megalith stages. Oh, and Scotland.

Making the Scots rabbits was inspired by a single character named Thorn the Lop, who was introduced to stand in for Mari-Ann when the Penders lawsuit caused them to remove all of his characters. She was a rabbit spearwoman described as a "Highland Lass". Since Archie Sonic's canon wasn't going anywhere anyway, I figured that was as good a place to start as any.

Braveheart is an alright war movie, but a woefully inaccurate film about William Wallace, the war he fought in, and the times he lived in. However, since Braveheart came out at the time the comics were running, I figured it would be funny if the Highland rabbits wore kilts and woad in line with the film's skewed perspective on Scottish history. I imagine it would have happened if they had the itch to write a story in that region during the mid 90s to the 00s.

Rabbit Mel Gibson is probably dead, though.

The Landsknechts were German mercenary soldiers known for rocking the Medieval world with their extremely flashy outfits and propensity for fighting anyone for any reason if the right amount of money was thrown their way. Their name (which is believed to have meant "Servants of the Land") was translated to French and lent to the historical card game "Lansquenet".

 

[weredrago2]

Ruby Haze
Chapter 6: No Party like a Boarding Party

"Freedom alert!"

Great. That was faster than I was hoping for.

Wanting to act before they sealed the door, I flew straight up from the cargo hold and skipped the ladder entirely. Taking point wasn't something I was used to. After all, being the guy who stuck their head out of the trenches and risked losing it was a dubious honor. As the guy who was the fastest and at the lowest risk of getting hurt, I volunteered to be pointman anyway. I formed a forcefield around my body and looked around, to figure out which way the robians were coming from.

"Freedom is punishable by death!"

Robians. I knew what they were from watching the Sonic cartoons years ago. Doctor Robotnik -- I had trouble getting over the mental hurdle that he was real -- found a way to turn living beings into robots, like how he used animals to power badniks in the games. He took over a big city and expanded from there, using his roboticizers to turn victims into cogs in his war machine. Rob and the other Crazy Kritters explained it from their perspective, warning me that they were both serious threats and unwilling hostages. They held out hope that the people they lost could one day be restored.

"Stowaways detected!"

Based on what I remembered, I had the impression the vast majority of robians were unthinking drones. That was a pretty stupid assumption to make when I was warned about them being dangerous. Rather than slowly ambling towards me, the mechanical pikemen got into tight formation and rushed me from all sides! They were trying to burst my forcefield bubble from every directions, my shielding and my nerves straining under the pressure of trying to keep track of and keep out so many hostiles at once.

"Back off!"

I popped the field and expanded it outwards, throwing the pikers into disarray when they were slammed into the walls, floor, and ceiling. There was a litany of rattles and clunks when they made contact with the hard wood of the landship. I walked up to the last few that hadn't been incapacitated by my attack and smacked them down with my staff.

♦ 40

"You know, I don't remember being this competent," I said to no one in particular.

Then I looked at the cudgel I got days ago. What was it doing in my hand? Wasn't I holding my sword? I rummaged around in my bag to try and find it when I heard a voice from the ladder.

"Prittee, repeat that?'

"I said I cleared the way! Hurry up before they swarm!"

Rob o' the Hedge was the first to climb up the ladder. I grabbed his hand and helped him to his feet, followed by Arthur Boar, Gilbert Woolhand, the rabbit woman who threatened me earlier, a grizzled rabbit man with a limp, and a rattled rabbit boy who trembled. Rather than Scottish tartans, the Highlanders all wore black argyle with dark blue and green lozenges.

"What happened to the others?" I asked, disappointed with the fighting force we had to work with.

"They're better left staying in reserve to protect their families," Rob said with a twinge of somberness. "Be on guard, pilgrims. The Lansquenets were a feared fighting force prior to their present transfiguration."

When he got up from the ladder, Arthur withdrew his sword from between his teeth. I was sure I saw that done with a knife in a movie, but seeing a creature with a larger mouth do it with a larger weapon was uncomfortable.

"I don't know, I think we did pretty good so far! How many more decks are we lookin' at, Rob?"

"There are two more levels above us, friend. We shall brave these gauntlets and disable the frigate's weaponry from the interior!"

Gilbert brought a hand to his chin. "Were thee not wielding a sword earlier, John?"

I was going to give him a non-answer when the second wave of guards turned the corner and marched into view. These ones had heavier weapons and armor. Longswords in lieu of pikes, making them far more dangerous in the cramped confines of the ship than the others.

"Mobians on the orlop deck!" a mechanical hound with a feather in his cap shouted. He had notches cut into his faceplate like scars. "Surrender now! Resistors shall be terminated!"

Rob O' the Hedge took a flying spin into the air!

"You'll have to do better than words, robotic ruffians! To arms!"

As much as I wanted to confiscate the unattended pikes, we were forced back into close-quarters combat! The Crazy Kritters performed aerial stunts to dodge and weave over the lumbering swings of the heavy-handed shocktroopers. I was expecting no less from the swashbuckling heroes. Lacking their skills, I made a ring of pink spikes around the lops and myself instead.

The bushel of bristling prongs and tines caused the Lansquenents to falter, stumbling to a stop inches away from experiencing turnabout being fair play. I spared a glance back at the lops, who were all taken aback by my sudden display of magic. The young one looked more afraid of me than he was the robians, his crossbow shaking in his hands.

"What are you waiting for? Shoot!"

That snapped them all out of their awe, the two more battle-ready rabbits firing plunger bolts at the robians or swatting them away with blades.

When the rabbit woman ran out of plungers, she smashed her crossbow on a robian's head and hopped over the spikes trap so she could arm herself with a discarded zweihander. I didn't know what to expect, but I wasn't expecting that out of an albino version of Cream the Rabbit's mom. She appeared to be an adult, standing a good four feet tall compared to Rob's three-ish.

"What's the deal wit ye, O'erlander?" she asked me as she dragged the two-handed longsword into melee range with the Lansquenets. "Some sort o' drood?"

Unless she was a fighter on par with the Crazy Kritters, the rabbit was a goner. I tried to intercept her, getting in front of the woman and preparing to take down the foe she picked out.

"Something like that, but you might want to stand back while I handle them!"

She leapt over me in an instant, the heavy sword going high in the air and slicing clean through the Lansquenet's armor! The tin soldier tried to counter, but his sword-bearing arm was on the floor. She moved on to new foes, relieving several soldiers of their limbs.

"Gadzooks!" Rob swore. He delivered an expert riposte and performed acrobatic maneuvers around a Lansquenet in heavy mail, but his fleet footing was knocked out of step when he witnessed the damage she was doing. Gilbert and Arthur had his back, taking out his target without causing permanent harm to it.

"Finella!" the rough lop called out to her. "What're ye doin'?"

The rabbit woman, Finella, continued her assault. I know I could have stopped her, but I was more concerned about dealing with our enemies than our allies.

"They're already gone, Lennox! So ah say no more mercy fer th' tools o' th' Sheriff!"

That was a bleak way of looking at it. Not that I could argue. I didn't know how roboticizing worked -- none of us did -- but I did know the cartoon stopped being produced before Sonic and his friends could cure it. Did that mean a deroboticizer couldn't be made? I didn't want to hurt people who were turned into robots against their will, but if I had to pick between robians and people at risk of becoming them? It wasn't like there was a simple answer, but the look on Rob's face told me he saw it differently.

We couldn't waste effort fighting each other, so we fought on. Once we advanced to the upper deck of the landship, I erected more crystalline barricades to block off the stairwells around us. They wouldn't weather sustained hits, but they forced the Lansquenets to squeeze into a single passage or waste time trying to break them.

♦ 34

Unfortunately, the advantages we got from our surprise attack and swift offensive fell to the wayside when those inevitable reinforcements came down looking for a fight. Our group was more varied, more skilled, and definitely more spirited than the opposition, but the Lansquenets were a volume of steel and force we couldn't resist forever.

"Halt! Halt!"

"Enemies of the High Sheriff must be destroyed!"

Our group was starting to lose steam. The ground we gained began to slip away plank by plank. Prisoners were no doubt pouring out of the steerage since the Lansquenets were too busy to notice their escape, but now we had their undivided attention.

Gilbert rolled out of the way of a pikeman's thrust, a long gash being torn into his green cape.

"Lackaday! We're getting outnumbered!"

Rob fired three arrows in three directions at once, covering a swath of foes in tangling twine.

"Wizard! Wall!"

I formed a thick screen of pink energy over the passage to prevent the Lansquenets from filling the deck with bodies.

♦ 33

I was nearing closer and closer to zero, but this was no time to be frugal. Already, the robians were battering at the wall with their weapons. Cracks were forming along the surface when I heard a shattering sound from further down the hall.

"W-Whit wis that?" a young lop warrior stammered.

The clanks were all the reply we needed. I didn't have a grasp of how my crystal constructs worked, but it seemed as though they had a short shelf life when unattended.

The rabbit dropped his sword. "That's it! We're all gonnae die!"

Finella walked up to the fearful rabbit and grabbed him by the collar.

"Kinney. Kinny! Git a hold o' yerself!"

She slapped him in the face. It seemed to do the trick of calming him down. Finella then handed the rabbit his sword back after he regained his composure.

Arthur leaned next to Gilbert to whisper. "You think she's seeing anyone?"

Time and place, Arthur. I wasn't sure if she missed that or simply ignored it. Either way, Finella turned to me with motor oil covering her clothes and sword.

"Awright, Wizard Jimmy! Would ye be so kind as to git us out o' here?"

I looked around, trying to logic and reason a way out of the current predicament. I didn't know how to consciously teleport yet, or how to take other people with me if I could. Or if there'd be side effects if I actually managed it. So that was out. We had the option of continuing to shore up our defenses, but that would only delay the inevitable until I ran out of power. The Lansquenets were breaking in, one way or another.

We… We may just die here.

I scratched my beard nervously.

"…I'm taking suggestions?"

There were several suggestions from the Crazy Kritters and lops. None of them were very good. Rob O' the Hedge was quiet, carefully thinking while I was assaulted with dumb ideas.

"Make a cannon!"

"A giant sword!"

"Burn 'em all!"

"On a boat? Are ye mad, woman?"

More Lansquenets charged in, forming a long line of pikes as the crystal walls around us broke.

"Better suggestions, please!"

"Find a window! We'll take flight!"

"I don't see any windows!"

"Eureka!" Rob said as he pointed up at the ceiling. "Make an exit to the main deck!"

Why didn't I think of that? Talk about tunnel vision. I created a circular platform under our feet, pulling up the sides to form a conical drill construct around us. We were all going on a ride.

"Hold on!"

The cowardly rabbit clutched onto my leg. I meant that figuratively, but whatever. I drove the drill up into the ceiling and bored straight through. We left the Lansquenet soldiers in the dust and were revisited by the bright beams of daylight.

♦ 32

I blinked. Having taken us into the air, and we were now floating above a landship. I couldn't see the lops making their way out the back. Did that mean we were successful, or did we fail? The frigate was driving at a steady pace over the hills without any sails, leaving the spars bare, save for a tasteless flag bearing Robotnik's face set atop the main mast.

"No sails? How are we gonna shut this down?"

"Harpoons!" shouted Lennox.

"I like that! We take the guns down and--"

"Harpoons!" everybody in the bubble who wasn't me shouted.

"Ah!" I cried as I ducked out of the way of an oncoming giant harpoon volley.

What? How did they get back on the artillery so fast? I zig-zagged to dodge the projectiles, shaking up the passengers who were all holding on to me. I made a beeline for the floor of the main deck, slowing to a stop so that I didn't splatter anyone or lose my lunch. The spiral shell remained cohesive long enough for us to regain our balance.

♦ 31

When the dust settled, we saw a metal behemoth standing over us. Heavy and rotund, like an upright zeppelin covered in a mosaic of colored steel plates. It walked on two platforms that were thicker than tree trunks shadowed by a segmented metal tube of a tail. One of the machine's arms ended in a wide and stubby hand. The other had a very big harpoon gun.

The head was a metal rectangle with sabers sticking out of it like teeth. I didn't recognize it as a head until the robot started talking.

"WELL WELL WELL!" the fanged mecha in an elegant tricorne hat boomed. "IT LOOKS LIKE WE GOT COMPANY!"

"Kaptin Krogre!" Rob O' the Hedge declared. Who and what was that? Did they have some sort of weird history I wasn't privy to, or was this a thing we were always doing now?

"THAT BE ME NAME!" the robot bellowed back.

Our current foe, a robotic giant, talked like a pirate and had only one volume setting. I wasn't surprised, only annoyed. He took up a lot of space on the main deck, his loud guffaws traveling far and wide as he followed our movements with his gun arm.

Rob O' the Hedge nocked a new arrow in expectation of a fight. He had a variety of arrows in his quiver to pick from, but the head of this one looked decidedly wooden. Did he run out of explosive arrows in the struggle to get here? That didn't sound right, I would have seen fire if he used them. Then I noticed the bow knot on top of it. Another tricky type?

"Your crimes against Mercia stop here! On this day, the Highlanders shall be let free!"

"UNDER WHOSE ORDERS? THE O'HEDGES DON'T RULE ANYMORE! AH HA HA!"

"You brute!"

"Brigand!"

"Slaver of our kin!"

I tried to follow where the robot's eyes were staring, but they moved erratically and not always in the same directions. What animal was it supposed to be, a fat gecko? Was there a joke I couldn't cotton on to about lizards and pirates?

"OI! I'LL HAVE YOU KNOW THAT SLAVIN' IS HOW I MAKE ME BONES!"

This was too much. Illusions were something I knew I was good at, so I made one of myself standing in place. Behind that, my real body slowly blended in with the grain of the wooden ship and crept into the background.

"Keep him talking," I whispered to the group. Throwing my voice as a hallucinated sound so only they could hear it. "I'll be right back."

Rob figured out what I was doing. He gave me a thumbs-up behind his back and carried on.

"Thou had to hath been a noble man at some point, Krogre! Do ye not have the will to resist the High Sheriff's influence?"

Once his eyes were off me, I vaulted off the edge of the ship and flew around the port side. My natural fear of heights had faded some since I could fly.

"Och, yer wastin' yer time! Krogre was a traitorous sellsword who never had a heart!"

I wanted to whack this robot from behind like last time and get out of here. Climbing over the stern, I was out of his sight and out of his mind. The illusory dummy stood with the others, who were in varying stages of battle-readiness. From Rob's cool determination, to Finella's borderline bunny blood rage, to Kenny wanting to rout at the next chance of danger.

Actually, why was he even here?

"THE LASS BE RIGHT, BOY PRINCE! NOT MUCH CHANGED, SAVE FER THE FANCY FULL METAL JACKET."

Krogre's steel tail whipped back and forth, scraping the deck. I changed my camo to a sky blue with cloud accents as I approached Krogre from above, aiming a crystal war pick at his head.

♦ 30

"Full metal or not, the Crazy Kritters could slay a giant your size any day o' the week!"

One swing should do it. A backstab did more damage than a flank, and I always played rogues when a game needed one to round out the party.

Krogre hefted his heavy handheld harpoon harpax.

"DON'T MAKE ME LAUGH HARDER! THE SEVEN O' YOU PIPSQUEAKS COULDN'T…"

Casters were always way too complicated. All of those spells to track, the extra dice to manage. Oh well. I prepare the golf swing and--

Kaptain Krogre's steel tail sprung off the ground and thrashed in my direction! The disguise and war pick vanished from shock, leaving me unable to dodge the metal appendage as it coiled around me! I was yanked up high into the air, hanging upside-down, and dangling over so many razor-sharp teeth.

"John Wizard!"

"THINK YOU'RE AN 'ARD BOY, EY?" the giant asked as he constricted tighter. I was confused at how he caught me, but my dummy was gone! "YOU THINK I DON'T KNOW HOW TO COUNT, YOU LITTLE SNEAK?"

I felt something crack. A rib?

♦ 29

Ow. Definitely a rib.

"Maybe? You didn't seem the--" He crushed me harder. "--TYPE!"

♦ 28

"To arms!"

I heard a light plink. Then a few more light plinks as the arrows hit Krogre's iron hide without impeding his attempt to crush me.

"Would you stop with the weak arrows?" I asked my would-be rescuers. "Try hitting him with something harder than wood!"

"YOU GOT A MOUTH, OVERLANDER! TOO BAD YOU'RE TOO SMALL TO KEEP."

Blood rushing to my head, I tried in vain to locate his power source like I did with Dark Horse. It was a warm core of heat somewhere in his heavily-armored gut. If only I could reach it.

"What does that even mean?"

Krogre swung his tail around. It was like riding a rollercoaster until the robot unwound his tail and let me go at full speed. I was freed from his snare in the most kinetic way possible.

"IT MEANS I GOTTA THROW YOU BACK IN THE SEA!"

I sailed into an out-of-control spin down the hole I had just made to escape the Lansquenets we left on the gundecks. The mass of robians that had been waiting for another chance to get at us now had a single target.

"KILL 'IM!"

They lunged for me as a rapid torrent of pikes, swords, and claws. I barely had the chance to raise a shield before they tore my defenses open and then began to tear at me.

♦ 25

Dragged away from the skylight, my vision was blotted out with a tide of cold steel. Whatever was happening up there, I was cut off. There was no one who could come to save me.

♦ 20

For every time I pulled out a new barrier or weapon, they hit me dozens upon dozens of times. I couldn't summon a solid shape that wouldn't shatter when I lost focus. The floor was covered in pools of glittery gem dust that sputtered out of the Phantom Ruby after consecutive failures to get even or get away.

♦ 15

My fight with Dark Horse was intense, but he was only one badnik. There were far too many of these guys and the power of the ruby was focused entirely on keeping me alive. No break, no respite. The machines wanted me dead.

♦ 10

My vision blurred as my body steadily gave out. I stopped fighting back. I was going to be beaten to death by an army of furry robots. In the dark. Alone.

♦ 5

The last reserves of my energy went into a scream.

♦ !!

The gem dust at my feet erupted into plumes of iridescent mist that enveloped everything in sight. Before my eyes, the depths of the ship were gone. They were replaced with a shifting expanse of magenta clouds and pink, crystalline structures that stretched across an endless horizon.

My body ached all over. I couldn't count the wounds, but the pain became an echo that reverberated across my mind. Over and over again, my agony and my anger magnified as I roared at the all-encompassing sky.

The eerie expanse shifted and changed, a spiraling vortex of colors that fragmented into portraits of the Lansquenets. They had glowing spots highlighted across their bodies.

Floating out in the void, I found that sword I had been looking for. Was this where it was hiding? I reached out for that sword and it levitated to my hand. The blade and hilt had accumulated a coat of ruby dust that made it shine in the uneven lighting of this strange place.

With a furious yell, I drove my sword through the cloud cover of that opaque dimension and forced myself back into the real world.

♦ 4

A flash of purple lightning and a boom of thunder shook the landship. The gundeck had been flooded in crystal particles that amassed into an obscuring ruby haze.

"Urk! E-Error!"

I found my sword embedded in a robotic steer's chest. I yanked it out and moved on to the next one. Then the next. Followed by the one after that.

"Surround him!"

"Danger!"

I didn't know how to change them back. They weren't able to stop. It was me or them.

"For the Sheriff!"

In that moment of savage clarity, I picked 'me'.

Dispersions of mist clotted the air. I didn't stop screaming.

"Fall back!"

"Retreat!"

When the pack of Lansquenets tried to scatter, I held out a hand and pulled every last volt from those remaining. They went still in seconds.

♦ 20

When the light of their eyes went dark, I flew back to the main deck to finish what I started. The Crazy Kritters were scaling Kaptin Krogre on long ropes attached to arrows nestled between the gaps of his armor. The three lops were keeping Krogre's tail busy while Rob O' the Hedge tangled with his now serpentine head.

"TOO MUCH TO HANDLE?" the Kaptin teased while attempting to swallow Rob in one bite.

Rob was too far away for me to hear him, but I could always ask him later. I fired a thin laser beam through Krogre's neck and sliced his head clean off.

♦ 18

"AARG!!" the robotic reptile head said as it tumbled down the bow of the ship. "SHIVER ME--"

The landship shook. I'd never know if he was going to say the line straight or put a spin on it.

The Crazy Kritters climbed off Kaptin Krogre's body with haste. The lops were standing at a distance behind them.

"My word!" Gilbert said.

Arthur shared his sentiment. "What he said. Ye look like death warmed over."

"What happened to you?" Rob O' the Hedge asked. Genuinely concerned, but for what? I felt great. Powerful. "What have you done?"

"Only what I had to," I said as I landed down and tore my hand into Krogre's battery casing. "And by the way? Mission accomplished--"

♦ 28

My stomach lurched. The past minute of automated, frenzied violence caught up to me. In that instant, the veil was yanked over my mind and I snapped back to reality.

I took my hand away from the badnik boss and fell to my knees in shock. Rob shouted for me.

"John! What happened!?"

I did all of that. Somehow. Did I buckle under the stress and lose it on them? I didn't know and was terrified at the thought. When Rob got closer, I stumbled away.

"S-Stay back!"

No. That didn't make sense. It had to be more than stress. It was cold. Calculated. A butchering executed with ferocious precision that I didn't think I had in me.

That wasn't me. It couldn't have been me. Yet I could remember all of it with perfect clarity because it was like my own body had acted out my wrath against my will.

The realization that it could happen again, at any time, was when I well and truly panicked.

---

Spoiler: Author Notes / Lore

The argyle pattern is derived from a tartan belonging to Clan Campbell, a clan native to Argyll in Western Scotland. They're a very influential clan in Scottish history. Another one of the Clan Campbell tartans is associated with a historical Scottish infantry battalion called the Black Watch.

Lady Finella was a Scottish noblewoman known for allegedly assassinating King Kenneth II with an elaborate crossbow trap to get revenge for her son being killed in battle. Her tale ends when she jumps off a waterfall to escape capture. Though it's known a Lady Finella existed at the time Kenneth II died (though her name is spelled like a dozen different ways), there's debate as to whether she did it with the aid of Kenneth II's enemies, whether the cool crossbow trap part of the story made up, or if she did it at all.

Kaptain Krogre was a fun badnik idea. Captain Plunder meets an Ork Kaptain meets King K. Rool. Complete with a harpoon cannon arm and a robot landship serpent mode!

 

[weredrago2]

Ruby Haze
Chapter 7: What's the Matter

"John! What happened!?"

He opened his mouth, but he couldn't speak. No noise came out. A sudden bout of nausea took the words he was going to say and held them tight.

I killed those robians. That's what happened.

His body shivered like a leaf, his heart pumping at speed not too far behind it. O'Hedge tried to get closer to him, but he stumbled away.

"S-Stay back!"

With how suddenly and violently he turned in the heat of the moment, he didn't know if it was safe for anyone to get near him. The last thing he wanted to do was lose control again.

"Have a care! You're wounded!"

"I mean it! Back off!"

Leaning over the side of the ship to hurl, his head sunk straight down. Before he could reject his breakfast, he saw that the grass below us was gliding at a rapid pace.

"We're still moving?" he said mournfully. His chest, among other things, ached terribly. "Why are we still moving?!"

"Not just movin'!" said Finella. "We're headed fer the Ogre's Stairway!"

He looked at her in confusion, then where she was pointing. They were nearing a massive column of basalt pillars in the loose shape of a spiral staircase. The landship was big, but the spires that clung to the edge of a seaside cliff were bigger. If they hit it from one angle, it would launch them far into the deep blue. If they hit it from any other angle, they'd be dashed against the rocks instantly.

He barely had enough time to register the fact that they were in mortal peril again.

"No."

"No?" one of them said in shock. This time, I knew it was Arthur. "Come on, man! We've got to stop the ship!"

"N-No," he repeated with a stutter. The false image of cool and the trappings of adventure he'd so carefully cultivated to avoid thinking about the big picture were vaporized. He slid away from the railing and fell to the floor in a shuddering heap. "No. No more. Not again. I won't. I won't!"

"He's gone mad," Gil said in shock.

"Oh, shut up!"

The words were harsh, but true. He was too stunned by his sudden turn to face what was left of reality. Rob tried to rouse his wizard ally, but he wasn't responding.

It was hard to look at. Frankly, I had no idea why I kept this memory playing on repeat.

"The wizard's insensate!" Lennox said. "Leave him! We've got to get our clan out of here!"

"We need to drop the anchor!" Rob said.

The Kritters and Clan Argyle had an anchor to drop, so one of them took the helm and the others sprung into action. I wasn't very well helpful with that, staying where I was until the anchor digging into the hard earth caused me to get flung overboard.

It was almost funny, from a third-person perspective. I stopped the recording and played it back again, from the top.

"John! What happened!?" Rob's echo said.

♦ 16

I wanted to look over the scenes again. See how I could have gotten over it and acted. Maybe I could see what it took to stop myself from losing control next time. I struggled to come to terms with the fact I terminated those robians. I knew that I couldn't cure them, or stop them any other way, but did that mean I killed the people they once were, too? I didn't know.

Nobody said a word to me about it since we got back to Hideaway. I haven't been asked to go on any more missions with the Crazy Kritters. I supposed I wasn't the only one without a way to put their thoughts about what should happen next into words.

"Prithee, you really ought not to be doing this to yourself."

I jumped a few inches and the whole illusion dropped like falling shards of glass. We were back at my humble abode in Hideaway. I turned around, and there was Friar Buck behind me, looking concerned.

"How am I gonna learn from my mistakes if I can't study them in detail?" I asked defensively.

"Oh? And has your self-imposed isolation borne fruitful?"

I looked around. My room was a mess, having not been cleaned since I scattered my extra weapons about and broke down all of the furniture days prior. I still had to sit and sleep somewhere when I felt the random rare urge to sit or sleep, so I used magic to roughly kludge back together.

The fact that I was waxing and waning through basic bodily functions was terrifying. How much of it was sheer stress versus the gem driving me insane?

"Yes. Why, I'm feeling better already. Shouldn't you knock?"

"The huts don't have doors," Amy supplied helpfully from a window she was leaning out of. "Only curtains."

I blink. What was she doing here?

"You didn't see all of that, did you?"

"See all of what?" Amy asked.

I walked out of the room.

"Nothing, I'm taking a break."

"That is good," Friar Buck said with a warm smile. "Mayhaps ye can spare the time to nourish thyself?"

"Not hungry."

I jumped off the railing into a midair hover, away from Hideaway. If I couldn't reflect on what happened in my hut, I would do it somewhere else.

I need to get my head on straight. Recharge my batteries if another robot comes by.

"I think I'll do some flying. See if I can't watch the forest while Rob finishes the repairs on the Warren."

"Of course. I shall save thine findings from the archives for when thou art more available to see them."

I stopped.

"You found something?"

"Indeed, I have! Rob requested that I search through my stores of the Kingdom's records for anything that might spark interest in those of a… sorcerous inclination? Though, if thou art to be preoccupied elsewhere--"

"Nope. My schedule is wide open."

"How fortuitous! The stew I was boiling should be ready to serve. Rosy, would you care to join us as I regale our guest with highlights from the Matter of Mercia?"

"Lunch and storytime? Sure!"

---

We had lunch at the Friar's hunt, covering recent events I neglected to keep track of over the week. Slightly sanitized versions of recent events for Amy's sake, but I was feeling pensive.

"The damage to the Warren's that bad?" I asked Friar Buck.

A battery of artillery shells blasting their hillside village wide open was, in fact, bad.

"Sadly so," he replied. "I fear they may need to abandon their ancestral home if the burrows cannot be saved."

"Can't we bring them here?" Amy asked.

"Not gonna happen," I answered a bit too brusquely. "Hideaway can only support, like twenty people at once. People come and go because that's an iffy twenty. There's no way we're fitting over a hundred more bodies in Deerwood Forest and keeping a low profile."

"What? No way!"

"It's Rob's call, but he doesn't have a choice to bring them over."

Friar Buck gave a solemn nod.

"I have to agree, Rosy, though I wish their situation were not so dire. We will help them make other arrangements. Preferably those further away from the High Sherriff's scrutiny."

Based on her expression, it wasn't the response Amy wanted to hear. I changed the subject.

"You, uh, mentioned something called the Matter of Mercia?"

"Yes. The Matter is the sum of our history and the legendary deeds of heroes past."

"Brave stories of knights fighting ogres and dragons!" Amy added.

That sounded a lot like Sonic & the Black Knight. The only way to know if my guess on point was to press further.

"Color me interested. So what's the Matter?"

I froze. Did I really say what I thought I said?

"Not much," Friar Buck said with a sip of his tea. "Thyself?"

I groaned, realizing I was subjected to the feudal equivalent of asking for updog. Amy giggled. Friar Buck, to his credit, was graceful in victory.

"My apologies. In a moment of weakness, I could not muster the willpower to resist."

The rest of the discussion was more straightforward. The holy hart knew most of the stories that made up the Matter by heart. He filled me in on the short version of Mercia's founding by the first king, who was given a magic sword as a blessing by the fairies of Avalon to rule, and the various knights of his Round Table.

It was the Arthurian Cycle, more or less, and that all happened hundreds of years ago. The most important aspect I took from it was that it also contained recent history. Over a hundred years prior, what was now called Mercia was a smattering of smaller kingdoms. Friar Buck was light on the details to keep things moving, but a power struggle took place between the fiefdoms of West Eurish until King Sebastian Acorn lent aid to the O'Hedge family in uniting their lands under a single banner. The Acorn and O'Hedge families became allies, and Mercia stood as a united kingdom… until Robotnik went and ruined everything.

The most useful parts would have related to wizards and witches, but the sum of direct knowledge on them was frustratingly scarce. They would appear in a story to aid or hinder the hero and then leave the tale of their own accord, assuming they didn't get slain in the process. It seemed whoever wrote about them had a low opinion of magic.

"How accurate would you say these older records are?"

"I wish I could say they were a Matter of fact, but time has means of muddling truth and fiction."

Once I had the basics down, Friar Buck opted to reveal what he found in the archives.

"I uncovered the detailed records of an ancient kingdom said to have been founded on the edge of the Outlands," he said.

"A lost kingdom?" I asked.

"Pray tell, how familiar are thee with the Kingdom of Sylvan?"

"You mentioned it off hand. The home of Sir Tristam?"

"I know this one!" Amy declared. "The Kingdom of Sylvan vanished in a great flood! They say the valley around Sylvania Castle became a lake and a magical forest grew around it."

"Who says? This Sylvania place is news to me."

"They," she clarified. "Come on! The legends are as old as it gets."

"What, you know all of these stories already?"

"Only the romances," she says wistfully. "The best part of the story is the dance between Sir Tristam and Princess Yseult!"

"Do they escape the flood and live happily ever after?"

It was only an educated guess that their love story didn't come with floatation devices. Amy's face went from pink to red, and she crossed her arms indignantly.

"The love shared between a knight and his lady can never die!"

Friar Buck cleared his throat.

"If I may?" he interjected.

He drew a scroll from his bag, which contained a map and poetry appearing much older than the one Rob showed me of contemporary Mercia.

"The tale of old Sylvan was not one I took much stock in, but this map and extensive accounts from the bard Tailesin prove there may have been a good deal of truth to the fiction."

Ignoring the horrible pun of Tailesin, my mind stopped to put the pieces together. Kingdom of Sylvan? Sylvania Castle? Like the zone? Was this something I could use to my advantage, even if I hadn't figured out how to do so yet?

Wow. I never thought I'd be grateful for Sonic 4: Episode II. That level had some weird supernatural gimmicks to it, which was just what the doctor ordered.

"Since you brought Sylvania up out of the blue, I'm assuming there's a lost treasure or other weird thing buried there that might help me out?"

Friar Buck pondered the subject. Or he pondered if he should tell me what he knew about it.

"Perhaps," he admitted. "Sylvan was said to be a haven for the arts and sciences. That may well have included the mystic arts, as the king's advisor Salomo was rumored to be a warlock."

"Salomo?" I ask.

The name wasn't too far from Solomon. If that wasn't a wizard name, I didn't know what was.

"His capacity for spellcasting varied by the story's telling, but the only way to be sure would be to perform thine own inquiries."

Amy jumped up and down.

"We're going to the lost kingdom of Sylvan!" she exclaimed with glee.

"That would be far too dangerous," Friar Buck reprimanded. "With your cousin away, I have far too many duties to attend to in Hideaway to accompany our wizard friend, should he choose to pursue this inquiry."

"How come he gets to go?" Amy whined.

I took a closer look at the map. I was bad at directions, but the lack of GPS meant was getting better at navigating out of necessity.

"Two reasons. One: I'm an adult. My life is in my own hands, to make stupid decisions with as I see fit. Two: I don't get to go, I have to. It's either these ruins in the middle of nowhere or I make a play for the royal archives in Snottingham."

That was something I considered: Ramming my way into the High Sheriff's fortress and firing lasers until everything that moved didn't. If the badniks I've been up against were any indicator, it was a suicide mission. Not that it stopped me from considering it.

"I'm gonna scout it out and see what turns up."

"I would not advise that so soon," Friar Buck said.

"Why not?" I asked. "I'm not an archeologist, but I can be careful not to break anything."

"The ruins are the least of my concerns. Thou hath not yet fully recovered from thine battle fatigue."

Battle fatigue? What did that mean?

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Friar Buck frowned.

"Rosy, could ye be so kind as to fetch the poems of Tristam and Yseult for me?"

Amy nodded. She ran off to chase her love story. When the hedgehog girl was out of hearing range, Friar Buck continued.

"Thou must have time to heal. Truly heal, not throwing yourself into other projects. I was able to convince thee to care for your body with food, but thine powers are not a true replacement for replenishing the mind and soul. Thou run the risk of letting those wounds fester."

"I… I'll take that under advisement."

Amy got back with the materials Friar Buck asked for. He transcribed the info I'd need from the maps and the antiquated poetry onto a fresh scroll with neat calligraphy and handed it to me.

"Take heed that ye do," he said. "A willful spirit is a powerful force, but even an incredibly stubborn spirit has limits."

I got the picture. I still took the scroll with plans to leave as soon as possible.

"One last question?" I asked before I departed to do some amatuer gravedigging.

"If ye have need for my wisdom, I shall dispense it to the best of my abilities."

"Why doesn't Rosy have the same accent as everyone else in Mercia?"

I couldn't help but notice she spoke differently from the others. She wasn't even trying to emulate their thees and thous. Rather than share a koan or witticism, Friar Buck only shrugged.

"That continues to elude me. As do all trends of the youth."

Amy pouted.

"I'll have you know everybody in Northamer talks this way! It's cool!"

"Talks like me?" I asked.

"Talks like…" Amy trailed off as the gears in her head started turning.

Amy jumped onto the bench to face me eye to sparkling cartoon eye. It was both cute and incredibly unnerving.

"You're from Northamer?! You gotta teach me some radical lingo I can use for when I meet my future boyfriend Sonic!"

I felt a shiver go down my spine. It could have been from any part of that exchange and I couldn't tell you which. I said the first radical word that came to mind.

"Copacetic?" I volunteered.

"COPACETIC!" she cheered. "Wait, what's that mean? I gotta know!"

I smiled and made a show of checking my Phantom Ruby.

"Oh, would you look at the time! I got a date with some foreboding sunken ruins on the edge of the country. I'll catch up with you later!"

The look on her face as I turned and walked out of the hut without defining 'copacetic' was priceless. It'd be absolutely hilarious if I got her talking like a tryhard skater girl by the end of the week, so I put that on my to-do list as a distant third to getting my powers under control and reclaiming control of Mercia from the High Sheriff.

For the time being, I had to go to Sylvania Castle and see if anything there could help me. I still needed to have my priorities in order, but if I didn't include some fun diversions I'd lose my mind and go on a violent rampage.

It was safe to say that one of those was enough for a lifetime.

---

Spoiler: Author Notes / Lore

What's the Matter? The Matter is, to the surprise of nobody, the Matter of Britain! The tales of King Arthur that inspired Sonic & the Black Knight were a central focus of the Matter of Britain, so I threw them back into the mix for Mercia's fusion stew of European history. The Matter also included Lyonesse, the lost kingdom central to the tale of Tristan and Iseult. You can find parallels to it in the Breton tale of Ys.

Friar Buck's predilection towards puns is a canon trait of his character. I didn't make it up for the joke, but rather leaned into it so I could get the puns I wanted in this chapter. Amy being from Mercia was written up after she had already been inserted into the story, and she never was portrayed as having a Mercian accent, so I figured she taught herself to sound like she was from Northamer because she thought it'd make her sound "cooler".

Although I would totally make fun of someone else doing it, I actually do make use of radical to the max vernacular in my regular speech. I used to do it ironically but now I can't stop. I've since embraced that I'm a massive hypocrite and will continue to be so.

 

[weredrago2]

Ruby Haze
Chapter 8: Castle Splashers

Countershading: A form of natural camouflage that manifests as an animal's coloration being darker when observed from above and lighter when observed from below. A pretty clever trick for blending in with your environment, useful for predator and prey. It can be seen in mammals, reptiles, birds, and fish; I went ahead and added myself to that list.

Heading South towards the supposed site of Sylvania Castle, I wanted to keep as low a profile as possible. Recently, the High Sheriff cottoned on to the fact that the newest member of the Crazy Kritters could fly. Since that incident that went down in the Highlands, he's had his robian minions set up anti-air ballistas along the edges of Deerwood Forest. If I got careless or tried to ferry people around again, they would simply shoot me out of the sky.

I kept low to the trees to avoid detection, coloring my body to match the natural hues above and below. That appeared to do the trick for outsmarting any turrets, but I had to constantly focus to prevent my disguise from slipping. Even when I throttled my speed and stopped at landmarks to reorient myself, flight was still the fastest way to get from here to there.

The travel period was a few hours of refreshing silence that I was grateful for. My allergies stopped bothering me and I didn't bother asking why. I got to higher elevation when the forests transitioned to deep blue hills. Soaring past the pastoral mountain peaks and a thick bank of clouds, I realized in awe that I had reached my destination.

The wooded valley that stretched along the Mercia coast was filled with wildflowers and evergreens. I could smell the ozone from recent rainfall or thunderstorms. The dense forestry grew in and around the remains of what was once a sprawling walled city. Mossy stone towers, pillars, and arches stood tall and resolute in the large inlet lake that swallowed up what once was, if the legends could be believed, the Kingdom of Sylvan. The large, cathedral-esque keep near the center had to be Sylvania Castle proper.

I was floored. How exactly could anyone lose track of a place like this? I descended towards an aged walkway so I could get a better view of things on the ground.

♦ 13

By the time my feet touched the brick path, I was very aware of how close I was to losing power. Friar Buck didn't call me an idiot for rushing into this, but I was an idiot for not figuring out a better way to power the Ruby sooner. I tried to make a simple battery out of cans, copper wires, and saltwater, but the effect was practically nil. So what was I supposed to do? Hijack a coal plant? Daisy chain a potato farm? Stand outside in a thunderstorm and hope I got struck?

If this castle turned out to be a bust, my next priority was finding another one of the High Sheriff's machines and stealing their battery for my own use.

I sighed. One problem at a time. The ruins were as expansive as they were breathtaking. I didn't really know where to begin, so I walked around to see if anything outside stuck out as valuable. Nobody was around, so I exchanged my faux wizard robes for beige slacks and a red jacket. Not wanting to be caught unarmed in case I was wrong about being alone, I envisioned the dimension of pink mist and clouds in my mind's eye. After moments of searching, I found a short crossbow and made it appear in my hand.

They called it Null Space, in Sonic Forces, though this pocket dimension made by the Phantom Ruby looked more like Egg Reverie Zone from Sonic Mania. I didn't know the full extent of how it worked, but I've been using it as a storage area for all of the weapons and gear I've collected. If there was anything worth taking from these ruins, I'll be taking it to go.

The outside of Sylvania Castle had little to offer, but I wouldn't mind coming back here again for the view alone. In all of my exploring of Mercia, I had yet to actually see any castles up to this point. The castle of Snottingham and other fortresses in the High Sheriff's control were completely off-limits, making this one my first. My mind was abuzz with questions as to the people who lived here and the devastating storm that wiped this castle off nearly every map, but it wasn't as though there were any survivors left to ask. I had to ram those questions down to keep them from distracting me further.

I took the long way around the city to the castle, watching my footing in case anything tried to give way under my weight. The ruins had rusted weapons and other trinkets strewn about, but not much else that drew my attention. I stopped at the submerged keep. With the entrance and the first few floors having slipped under the lake, I climbed in via one of the overly large windows.

The inside of the castle was dark. That much was obvious when I walked into the building. I made a red lantern to guide my path through the crumbled interior, which was a shadow of whatever glories it once represented. Tattered banners and shredded murals lined the dusty walls. The normal furnishings of regular castle living were strewn about in a chaotic clutter.

If those weren't enough of an indicator that Sylvania Castle had more problems than water in the basement, the skeletal remains of munchkin knights battling each other to the bitter end certainly were.

"What happened here?" I asked nobody in particular. My voice had an echo that carried throughout the keep.

I sidestepped around the scene of what looked like a pitched battle, picking up a discarded shield to examine it. Besides, it wasn't too late for there to be--

I stepped on an off-colored brick. A barrage of arrows flew out of the wall and embedded themselves in the shield I had raised in a frenzied defense.

"Traps?! Really?!"

I dropped the shield in a rage. If this castle wanted to play hardball, then so would I!

I sent a flash of ruby light out into the dim halls, phantom tendrils snatching centuries-old weapons and armor from knights that were no longer using them. I only meant to raise some plating between me and any other traps that wanted to get in my way, but the metal bent and twisted as it clasped to my body, smoothing out in some places and spiking up in others. Before I could stop it I was ironclad, head to toe in a wicked set of armor!

"Woah…!" I said in surprised shock. That was awesome!

♦ 8

Then I remembered that I was supposed to be conserving power!

"Darn it!"

A wide, double-edged sword with red chain symbols running down the flat of the blade got into my hands at some point during the transformation process. I didn't know if it was made from other swords or got picked out of the pile, but I made quick use of it and the new armor to blow through all of the remaining traps and obstacles with gusto. Automated spikes and arrows couldn't slow me down.

♦ 6

I checked door by door, hall by hall. I had to ignore rooms that weren't immediately promising because decked out in full plate I was still on a timer. The stress was making my judgement worse, and the clock kept ticking down.

"Alright, that's it!"

I kicked a wall down in frustration before forcing myself to sit down on a pile of rubble and closing my eyes so I could calm down and think. It wasn't easy to get comfortable with the new armor on, but I managed.

The issue at hand was that I needed power as soon as possible. This expedition was looking more and more like a dead end. I could be here all night and not come up with anything because whoever lived and died here didn't have the courtesy to leave instructions for future tomb raiders. Where was Salomo's study, and could anything in it help me? After all this effort, I sure hoped so.

The mental fog started to pass when I took a breather, and the solution became clear. All I had to do was focus and remember what I did to that horse badnik. I spotted the compatible energy source he had in his chest more or less by accident. Why couldn't I try to do the same again on purpose?

Trying to brute force some kind of magic sense was like attempting to feel the texture of a pineapple through my eyes. Faint sensations cropped up at the corners of my awareness, but I couldn't tell if they were taste, sight, touch, or something new I lacked a word for.

When the sensory overload leveled out, it became comparable to thermal imaging. My immediate surroundings were tinged in shades of blue or green. I tuned my red aura out and tried to find foreign objects that pinged as being on the same wavelength.

There was a strong glow deep below me; inside the lake. It was difficult to ignore after I noticed it, but I put off any attempts at going down there because I can't exactly breathe underwater.

"Unless…"

The stairwell to the bottom floors was a murky blue pool rank with the odor of aquatic vegetation. I wasn't a great swimmer, but the armor meant I could sink straight down and fly back up once I got what I needed. I steeled my resolve as I stepped into the water with a force bubble full of air around my head. I didn't start drowning, so I'd call that a success!

♦ 5

The ruins of Sylvania Castle were bigger on the inside than they were outside. I followed the strange red glimmer as I slowly trudged through the sunken ruins. The route was made more difficult by floating debris that had to be carefully sorted through and broken down. The last thing I wanted to deal with was a cave-in.

♦ 4

It turned out that wasn't alone down here, per say. There were carps, trout, eels, and some spiny fish I didn't recognize. A lionfish, maybe? A lot about Mobius was weird, sure, but what kind of fish--

What kind of fish had hedgehog spines?!

The serpentine creature with a hedgehog's head darted past me and into the darkness when spotted! I fell back and banged my head against a pillar in surprise, causing cracks to form along the inside of my bubble!

♦ 3

No no no!

It shattered! Water started to flood into my helm! I held my breath and raced down the flooded corridors, battering through stone walls and pillars to reach my lifeline!

♦ 2

The Phantom Ruby dimmed to a pale blue as I impacted with a large vault made out of a gleaming white metal. The power that glowed behind the vault was evident; a brilliant gold that I could see with my own eyes through cracks in the stone.

I tried the door. It wouldn't budge! Trying harder, I only managed to bend the vault's iron handles! I banged on the surface with increasingly wild swings!

What is this made out of?! BREAK! JUST BREAK!

♦ 1

This was it. The end. By following my gut, I had walked down into the bottom of a submerged castle in heavy armor to look for something that I may have been hallucinating, and was about to be cut off from my mystical life support.

Here we were. In my death, the depths of my stupidity could finally be measured in liters per square inch. I would die here, all because I didn't know the combination to the stupid door!

The door's the only part made of metal!

Inspiration struck! With the last shreds of my power, I made a flickering ruby hand and wrenched the entirety of the metal door out of the stone wall! I experienced a violent lurch, and was flung backwards by the change in pressure!

I closed my eyes and expected the worst: That I was about to start drowning again. That I was back in Never Lake, and that I wasn't coming out this time around.

Wait, was that the lake from Sonic CD--?

I didn't have the time to finish the thought. Simultaneous jolts of energy jostled my body as I was enveloped in golden light!

♦ 5

I couldn't keep my eyes closed any longer. All around me were brilliant, golden rings! Glowing, metal hoops that were a foot wide, each one shining like the sun shone on them from every angle.

♦ 10

The rings and I were all being pulled along by the powerful current I had unleashed. I didn't know where we were going, but I was taking as many rings as I could with me!

♦ 20

I was so ecstatic to be alive, I didn't even care when a giant, yellow and orange fish tail smacked me in the face! I was gonna live to see another day!

♦ 40

The current forced me upwards, and I was launched out of the lake by a water spout! My armor came off in pieces as landed among the castle ruins, where I laughed with joy.

"RINGS!" I cried! "ALL I NEEDED WERE RINGS!"

I could still see more of them, floating at the lakebed! Rings! How could I not have realized it sooner?

I cackled. It all came together! Why wouldn't rings be the solution? If I could collect more of them, I could have all the time and power I needed!

I looked around the Sylvan Kingdom, the gears in my head really moving! I hadn't been this excited about anything since I got here, but now I could see the possibilities!

"This was once a city, huh?" I pondered aloud. "With some renovations, it looks like it will make for one heck of a secret base!"

The conclusion was a natural one to make. The High Sheriff already knew where Hideaway was in the general sense. There was no direction they could grow in without the enemy taking note, and we were already dealing with population problems. Now we had a new place and a ton of rings to power it!

I could worry about weird fish later. This was our windfall: A castle to ourselves! The best part was that this castle didn't officially didn't exist, and no one knew where to start looking for it!

I took comfort in this knowledge and understood it as an irrevocable fact until I overheard an aircraft engine exploding overhead. A Sopwith Camel that flew straight out of a Great War documentary went past the relics and was on a collision course with the trees!

The amount of emotional whiplash made my neck sore. I did the first thing that came to mind and raised the Phantom Ruby! The light from my gem enveloped the damaged biplane in a glimmering tractor beam, freezing it in place before carefully landing it in a grassy meadow.

♦ 38

I turned invisible. I didn't know who or what these people were. I didn't know what they wanted. All I know is that they picked the worst time and place imaginable.

Approaching the crash site from an oblique angle, I witnessed two figures climb out of the winged craft. The first was a blue-grey cat with yellow eyes. He was dressed in a stereotypical musketeer's uniform with fleur-de-lis emblazoned across his tabard. The second was a red poodle girl with a blue beret and matching cloak.

"Monsieur Chat!" the poodle said to her associate in an exaggerated French accent. "Whatever en Mobius was zat?"

"I do not know, but stay on guard," the cat ordered as he stepped out of the pilot's seat. His boots were made of an incredibly high-quality material, but I had the feeling they weren't real leather.

I was interrupted by Puss in Boots and a French poodle? I suppressed the urge to laugh as I got closer, because that was absolutely hilarious. Then I remembered that, since I could produce auditory illusions, I could make a bubble of silence around myself and laugh as hard as I pleased. Once that was out of my system, I began listening in on their conversation.

"Ze plane! She ees kaput!" the poodle declared after a cursory inspection of the engine with a large ballista bolt through it. "Now however shall we reach ze Forest of Dear Wood?"

Monsieur Chat checked his surroundings, presumably to look for me. He drew his rapier towards the distant mountains.

"We climb, Fifi. We climb."

"Fifi? Really? Aha ha ha ha!"

Fifi the Poodle turned towards me.

"W-Who said zat?!" she asked in fright. "And whatever do you think ees so funny about my name?"

They weren't supposed to hear that! My smile dropped and I hid behind a tree!

Chat ran back to the downed plane and entered a defensive stance.

"Who's out there?!" he shouted at the trees in vain.

I ignored them while I came up with a new plan. The element of surprise was mostly ruined, but I still had some tricks up my sleeve.

"Come out and face me like a man, coward!"

Not happening. Not when I couldn't keep a straight face.

"Be careful, Chat! It could be a ghost from that très spooky castle!"

Now, Fifi had the right idea! I made a pillar of fire appear before them, with two embers for eyes and a set of smoke streams as burning eyebrows! I couldn't think of anything clever to do for the mouth, so I didn't make one. Mouths were hard to animate, anyway.

"WHO DARES TRESPASS ON MY HAUNTING GROUND?" the phantom image demanded.

Fifi shrieked and jumped back into the plane!

"A G-G-G-GHOST!!!!"

"State your business or be scoured from this mortal plain!"

"We were just leaving!" Fifi said quickly.

Chat, to his credit, only looked perturbed by the sudden appearance of a phantasm in broad daylight.

"We are the Maquis! The fearless Outland Freedom Fighters who have eluded capture by barbarous Barbe Vis!"

The Outlands? Wasn't that where Will Stoatley was headed? We hadn't heard from him in a while, and I couldn't blame the snail mailman there.

"Do you know a weasel by the name of William?"

"If we say non, will you let us go?"

The musketeer rolled his eyes, but he kept his rapier pointed towards me.

"Sir Stoatley was our contact with the King O'Hedge and his Crazy Kritters. If it matters to you, spirit, he has been taken to Quart Quartz."

"And that would be…?"

The two Maquis members looked at my fiery projection funny.

"Oh, I'm sorry, do I look like a giant pillar of fire who goes out often? Come on, spill it!"

"It is ze -- how you say -- prisoner camp of Barbe Vis! He works ze people to ze bone, and turns zem into robots when zey can work no more!"

"Yikes. That's terrible."

"It ees! Très terrible!"

"What does any of this mean to you?" Monsieur Chat probed. "I demand you let us go to seek the King's aid at this instant!"

"What's it mean to me?" I asked back. I made the ghost evaporate. They weren't robians, they were allies.

Fifi gasped. Chat held his weapon tightly.

"It means you've come to the right place. John Wizard, provisional Crazy Kritter."

I bow. Not because I'm still being dramatic, but because the gesture still has some value in Mercian society.

"A magician?" Fifi asked in confusion. "You are dressed a bit casual for magic, non?"

I looked down to find I had reverted to slacks and a jacket, with a spiked gauntlet attached to my Ruby hand being all that remained of the armor.

"The help's free and you get what you pay for. Now tell me more about Barbe Vis."

---

Spoiler: Author Notes / Lore

As mentioned last chapter, Lyonesse is a legendary kingdom in Arthurian lore. It's the main setting of Tristan and Iseult, and factors into other stories (like being the battleground of Arthur and Mordred) in some adaptations. Lyonesse was destroyed after the inhabitants committed some terrible crime or another, being taken by the sea as if it was never there at all.

Prior to writing this chapter, I asked myself how one would write a classic drowning sequence from the games in narrative format. Now I know, and you do, too!

"Maquis" was a name attributed to groups of French guerilla fighters during World War II who would hide in the mountains and sabotage occupying forces when possible. Monsieur Chat, on top of being a transparent homage to Puss in Boots, is a Chartreux. It's a notable French breed. Charles De Gaulle, leader of Free France in WWII, had one as a pet.

 

[weredrago2]

Ruby Haze
Chapter 9: Sword and Bird

"You can't tell me you came all the way here to recruit people for a suicide mission."

Only hours into our trip through Deerwood Forest did the Maquis explain the barest scraps of why they had to flee the Outlands. From what I could gather, the robian boss in charge of the Southern Mercia region, Barbe Vis, caught wind of a Maquis raid ahead of time and captured the rest of the musketeers with their breeches down. Leaving Monsieur Chat and Fifi Caniche no choice but to take off in a ramshackle biplane and hope they landed where help was hiding.

I didn't know what their plane was powered by, but it ran out of juice halfway to the end destination. I had to catch their busted craft mid-flight before it could hit Sylvania Castle, and now I was the one leading them to Hideaway. It took a few rounds of "spin me around with a blindfold on", but I was a much better pathfinder than I used to be. By now, I could get around the maze of trees and brambles without getting completely lost.

From what they said before, the answer of what they wanted to do next was more or less what I expected: A prison break of a labor camp called Quart Quartz.

"Our goal is not a suicide mission," Monsieur Chat said bluntly. The tom in boots walked beside me, and the fretful poodle scout walked right behind him. "I have keen knowledge of the wilderness surrounding Quart Quartz. Entry without detection is well within our means."

"What about the inside? They've made some changes since they took over the quarry years ago, right?"

"That information has been more difficult to obtain."

"Do you know where the quartz goes when they take it out, or what it gets used for?"

"Pretty necklaces?" Fifi the Poodle offered. I shook my head, and she looked embarrassed for suggesting it. "Eheheh. I did not think ze robians went for jewelry, either."

"It goes to building castles and fortifications for the High Sheriff," Chat answered.

"Zey also put quartz in watches and clocks, non?"

Fifi paused to think of the implications.

"You don't think zey put them in ze robots, too? Do you?"

"That and more. Radios, computers, radar. You name it, there's a good chance you can find quartz in it. That pit mine might be a bigger cog in the High Sheriff's operations than you guys might have expected."

"All the more reason for the Crazy Kritters to aid us in its destruction," Chat said resolutely. "You did claim to be close to King O'Hedge. Should we expect our petition to be answered?"

They wanted us to risk our skins for a couple of people who were more likely than not already roboticized. At the same time, we could do a whole lot of damage by cutting off what might be the Sheriff's biggest quartz supply. I didn't want to promise them anything, but really. Rob O' the Hedge was a bleeding heart. There was no way he wouldn't want to help them once the issue of housing the Highlanders was handled.

"I'll see what I can do. Any other Maquis members we need to pick up for this mission?"

"All of our friends were taken captive," Fifi said quietly. "Kent ze Crow. Guadalupe Garou. Ze Four Minstrels of Bremen. We do not know how much time zey have left before…"

I nodded in understanding. We haven't heard from Stoatley in weeks; I wasn't optimistic about chances of getting him back in the flesh.

"Just you two, then."

I'd switched back into my 'wizarding' attire since picking them up and kept the sword at my belt in case we ran into any trouble.

"What is your association with King O'Hedge?" the cat probed.

I turned, rolled my eyes, and checked my compass again. We weren't that far from Hideaway. Or, at least, I didn't think we were that far. Maybe I wasn't as good at this as I thought.

"I'm the court wizard," I replied as I put the compass away.

"There's still a court?" Fifi asked, her voice full of hope and delight. "Zat ees wonderful news! I so missed ballroom dancing! Does Hideaway have a dance hall?"

"Ah. No, not really. That's just what I've been calling myself, since there doesn't seem to be a better title around."

She deflated a bit at the answer. I felt guilty about being the one who had to burst her bubble.

"Forget zat I asked. What does a court wizard do for a living, anyway?"

"I consult on magic policy and fight wicked ne'er-do-wells at the King's side. To be honest, I was in the middle of those wizarding duties when you dropped in."

"Did it involve that castle you were 'haunting'?" Chat interjected.

"Yes, actually. I was surveying the ruins for anything that might come in handy."

"Handy?" he repeated back incredulously.

"Relics and records that can aid our intelligence come first, followed by any treasure that could be traded to external groups in exchange for their aid."

I left the lake of magic rings out of the story. While the mobian musketeers seemed legitimate, I really didn't know them or have any grasp of how rare rings were supposed to be in this world. If it was anything like the games, I wouldn't have had to go to all of the trouble of finding them in an invincible vault underneath a lost castle. I was able to top myself off and take a bushel for the road while they weren't looking, but I still didn't know how many rings I had in total.

Once I did have the spare time to collect all those rings and miscellaneous forgotten treasures, we could use the castle itself as a fallback base. Or a second home for the Highland Lops, since the open plains were a definite no-go. As long as it was stable enough to inhabit without the foundation sinking further into the lake, I didn't see see why we couldn't put it back into use.

Monsieur Chat frowned.

"Do the shattered remnants of the Overland not pay enough to keep you on retainer?"

I stopped.

"Excuse me?"

"I could not help but notice that once you believed you were out of our sight, the first thing you did was return to doing what your predecessors first did when they first set foot on Eurish soil."

So much for not being caught. Now, I looked worse than if I did it openly.

"That would be?"

"I am not so young that I could forget the shock troopers helping themselves to our kingdom's valuables with the promise they would be put to better use in overlander hands."

"They're not going to the Overland or me." That second part was a bit dubious, depending on how you interpreted it. "Alright, maybe I'm not a knight or servant of the king like you are. The gold and rings are still going to the cause."

The cat's hand slowly went to his sword. I stopped, made an illusion of me who continued walking where they could see it, and hovered behind Chat in case it looked like he was about to act upon a misinterpretation of my intent.

"Pardon my ill manners, mercenary, but I am loath to trust the future of Mercia to a stranger with a tendency towards robbing graves."

"Look. Blind trust is a big ask and all, but we can't be that far from home base. When we get there you can ask Rob how trustworthy I am. Can't you trust me for a little while longer?"

"Well, you did first appear to us as a spooky ghost." Fifi said. "Not a very good way to make yourself seem trustworthy, non?"

I seamlessly went back into place with my double with nothing more than a flicker from my ruby.

97

"That was to make sure you weren't High Sheriff plants," I countered.

"Ze ghost act was to make sure we were genuine?"

"Exactly."

Now that Fifi mentioned it, was I going to have to start dealing with real ghosts if I kept playing amateur graverobber? I know Sonic Adventure 2 had a ghost infestation in Eggman's pyramid base. As long as I steer clear of pyramids with stupid grins on them, I should be okay?

"Are you sure Hide-away is meant to be this far-away?"

I checked the compass again. This part of the woods was looking a bit too much like the area we passed hours back for comfort.

"You idiot!" Chat hissed. "You've been holding that upside-down the entire time!"

"No I'm--"

I checked my compass a final time.

"Oh. I uh, guess I was?"

Monsieur Chat groaned in frustration.

"Enough of these games, wizard! Are you truly taking us to the King, or has this all been an elaborate trick?"

"Alright, alright! I got us lost, but I can fix this."

"Then do it. Need I remind you that time is of the essence?"

"Give me a second," I said.

I closed my eyes and focused. I knew where I wanted to take us, if not how to get there. I imagined ruby red threads encircling the three of us and envisioned the end destination with as many details as I could devote to it.

"What are you doing this time?" Chat asked.

"Teleport spell. Trying to concentrate."

I saw trees. A lot of them. Business as usual there for Deerwood Forest, but high above the ground were so many huts, and a community that tied them together in a time of great fear and uncertainty. That's where I would find Rob O' the Hedge, Friar Buck, and Amy Rose.

"Have you done this before?" Fifi asked.

"Yes."

The last one still threw me for a loop. The once-fictional Amy Rose, now as real as anything else happening to me. A patchwork of games and stories, weaved together into a tight web of uncertainty that gripped at my chest and refused to let go.

"What does eet feel like?"

"Not much."

Did Sonic and the other Freedom Fighters from the cartoon know about me? I don't think Rob would have forgotten to mention my name and what I could do if they're in communication with them. I'm going to have to meet them at some point.

"S-Should I hold on to somezing?"

"Your tongue, please. Need to focus."

I froze the image of Hideaway in my mind before it slipped away, filling the space in-between 'here' and 'there' with a trail of ruby light. If the Maquis were saying anything else, I ignored it.

I knew I could teleport. I've done it twice before. Both times were when my emotions were out of control. Lashing out, rather than anything directed like this. I just needed to do it on purpose this time and hope that it wouldn't be this mentally intensive every time I tried.

A pink flash of light enveloped us and the air shimmered, like a wave of heat distorting an image beyond comprehension. As the spell increased in magnitude, the two Maquis began floating in the air!

"SACREBLEU!" Fifi cried as she spun around uncontrollably.

Monsieur Chat was in the same situation, flung up into the air!

"Wizard, I demand you put a stop to this right--!"

92

"--NOW!"

The odd lights and colors disappeared as quickly as they came, and gravity reasserted itself around us. Thinking fast, I made a pair of pillows under the Maquis to soften their fall.

Chat landed on his feet. Fifi did not.

"Oof!"

I looked around again. Rather than being stuck in the middle of the forest, we were at the base of Hideaway, right before sundown.

"Ha! I did it!"

Chat lifted Fifi off her feet.

"Pardon if we do not share your enthusiasm," he said dryly. "Now, where is the King?"

"If he's back, he'll be up there. Follow me."

- - -

"YOU MET A MERHOG AND YOU WEREN'T GONNA LET ME SEE HER!?"

My return was met with an immediate ambush by the resident tiny terror, Rosy. After I pawned off our guests to the Crazy Kritters, Rob's cousin caught me unawares, got up in my face, and demanded to know everything about my trip to Sylvania Castle in as many excruciating details as I could give. Which weren't a whole lot yet.

I was beginning to suspect that being cooped up in Hideaway was making the young hedgehog go stir-crazy. The fact that she was supposed to meet her idol face-to-face and the trip got canceled again due to fears for her safety may have had something to do with it.

"I said a fish that looked like a hedgehog slapped me in the face with its tail. That doesn't necessarily mean it was a merhog."

Rosy crossed her arms indignantly. How old was she again?

"Well it serves you right for leaving me out of the fun!"

I sighed. I didn't know anything about dealing with kids.

"Rosy, taking you to a dark, flooded castle for 'fun' would have been a horrible idea. Also, can you get off the table? You're gonna get it dirty."

She hopped off the table in a huff. I wiped it down and took a sip of my unfortunately non-alcoholic ale. The brew tasted fine, sure, but I strongly suspected Friar Buck had a private stash of the good stuff somewhere around here. As I couldn't prove it and the man was above reproach, I was stuck babysitting Rosy with the cold comfort of sobriety. Her eye-scouringly pink room was a mess of old toys, a half dozen yellowed books, and wanted posters of Sonic the Hedgehog that someone smuggled out of Robotropolis.

Robotropolis. The black, industrial heart of Robotnik's empire. Near as I could tell, that was where the real action was happening. The forefront of the freedom fighters' struggles. I couldn't tell if I was sticking around here out of obligation to Rob or fear of what might happen to my fragile mind if I met Sonic in person.

"No fair! You're like, a fathom tall! How else am I gonna look you in the eyes?"

"Eat your vegetables?" I suggested. "Or you could invest in platform shoes. I'll front you the cash if you get a job for the summer."

She pouted. The effect was adorable, whether she intended it to be or not. I took out a stick of graphite wrapped in twine and went back to listing the rest of the shinies I encountered at the capital of Old Sylvan on a spare square of parchment.

"Did you find the rest of that wizard junk you were looking for?" she inquired. "Like Salomo's magic wand, or a dragon's eye gem, or the armor of the true king? Oh oh, did you see--"

I held up a hand to curb her enthusiasm. The next time Rob went foraging, I'd ask him to pick up a log of willow so I can invent aspirin.

"Didn't get the chance. The Maquis needed a lift here. Besides, it looked like there was a battle of some kind and a natural disaster that messed the whole place up before I got there."

"I knew it! Just like the story!"

"Right, like in the story. I'll need to go back over there once this quartz thing blows over--"

"Ooh!"

Rosy's eyes darted to the wicked sword that flew to my hand during my expedition. It was decorated with a pattern of red chains that ran down the broad side. I found it striking how the sword was supposedly lying under the water for centuries, yet it kept its edge and swung as good as new. Was that something I did, or a trick of the blade itself?

"What's that?"

"Promise you won't try to take it out of my hands and play knight with a lethal weapon?"

"Hey! I'm nine years old, not four!"

That answers that. I raised my poncho so she could get a better look at the sword. Her curiosity piqued, Rosy walked to her shelf and put a blue book with a sword on the cover on the table.

"What's that?" I asked. "A sales catalog?"

"No, silly! It's the Tome of Arms! A must-have for all weapon enthusiasts!"

I'd be skeptical of why Rosy had one of those if I didn't know what she'd be beating the tar out of people with later. She flipped through the pages with the practiced skill of someone who only had so many books to pass the time with.

"Now, let's see. Melee weapons… Swords… Swords of legend… Oh."

Rosy made a face that I couldn't decipher.

"What'd you find?" I inquired.

She pushed the tome my way so I could see the picture. On one page, my new sword was portrayed in full color: Red, red, and more red. The knight wielding it held the sanguine-soaked sword over a tower of bodies that didn't look like they were taking a mid-battle siesta.

"It's Morglay," Rosy gasped in surprise. "The Death Brand!"

I couldn't place where I've heard that name before, but it sounded bad.

"Is 'Morglay the Death Brand' as bad as it sounds?"

Rosy pointed to the description of the sword and I read out the details.

"Blade of Count Inganno? The traitor's sword?"

"Yeah! He betrayed the kingdom and held Morglay while he terrorized the lands!"

"Well, that doesn't mean--"

"Ew, gross! It says here he ate people!"

"You're kidding." I skimmed the page to see for myself. It was about as flattering as you'd expect an article about a sword-swinging cannibal marauder would be. "You're telling me I got the worst sword in the book?"

"Actually, it says Morglay is one of the finest swords ever made."

"So I should keep it?" I asked, unsure. The book was sending me some mixed messages.

"You should probably throw it back in the lake, Mister Wizard."

So that could be another reason the cat was giving me the stink eye. That, and they might have been a speciest who disliked overlanders on general principle. Couldn't tell, couldn't care unless we're forced to work together and it became an issue. Since it wasn't doing me any favors in the open, I stowed the sword in my pocket zone.

"I'll get around to it."

I stuck my head out the door, where I could overhear the tail end of Rob making some sort of noble declaration a hut or two over.

"…would never turn down a fellow freedom fighter in need!"

"Hey Rob! How's it going over there?"

Rob O' the Hedge stepped out of the meeting hut to go looking for me.

"Friend Wizard!" he exclaimed. "Are ye well rested?"

He tried to hide it, but I knew he had doubts about bringing me along since my last slip-up. I was helpful when I wasn't a wild card. A friend, yet a potential enemy. Even when I tried to telegraph what I was doing, we weren't ever quite on the same wavelength.

To be honest, I haven't slept in days and had another graze with death. The only thing keeping me standing was an occult artifact that ate video game power ups and may or may not be driving me insane. If I didn't go along, there was a nonzero chance that the Crazy Kritters would successfully sneak inside a prison camp and get themselves stuck there.

"Verily, milord!"

The teal hedgehog archer grinned at my attempt to speak the lingo.

"Excellent! The Maquis have called for their king's aid! Care to join us to discuss strategy?"

"In a minute!"

I turned back to Rosy, whose big eyes were downcast. It looked like she was upset about being left out of a violent, life-threatening situation again.

"Can you do me a favor?" I asked.

She paused to consider it, and then nodded. I handed her the paper I was working on.

"Do you think you can look these up in those books of yours while we're away? There's a decent chance Friar Buck will be going with us, and I need someone familiar with Mercian lore to help me put some pieces together."

Rosy read the notes I took and eyed them with suspicion.

"Wait, is this homework?" she accused.

"That depends. Can you aim a bow and fire it with flawless accuracy?"

"No."

"Fly or shoot laser beams?"

"Uh, no?"

"Run faster than the sound barrier?"

"The what?"

"Forget it. What I'm getting at is that you can't help us fight the High Sheriff head-on because you're too young and inexperienced."

"I've heard that one before," she grumbled.

"This is serious. I don't know if anyone gave you the whole explanation. One of these days, you'll be a real freedom fighter with a hammer of your own to swing--"

"Why a hammer? I mean, don't get me wrong. I like hammers. I just wanna keep my options open."

I crouch down so that I'm closer to her level.

"Amy? Listen. I know Rob has given you some training in case you're on your own, but until your cousin and the other Crazy Kritters can train you to a level where you can fight, running into danger would only put you at risk of getting yourself hurt. Or worse."

"W-Worse?"

She sniffled. Oh no, I might have overdid it trying to 'real talk' some sense into her. I held the weapon book up before she could start the waterworks.

"But don't worry about that! You see, this is how you can help the Crazy Kritters!"

Her eyes got wide for a good reason this time.

"My book? How does that help?"

"Honestly, I'm pretty sure half of the Crazy Kritters are illiterate." I paused to gauge her expression. If Rob was the king and Amy was his cousin, that meant she was some flavor of royalty. She hadn't even considered that she had a head start on an education that a vast majority of Mercian peasants could never dream of. "Being able to read anything at all is a critical skill, and I'm being pulled in too many directions at once to follow up on all of these fairy tales that have a foot in reality."

I gesture to her books.

"You said it yourself. You know all the romances. Considering the one about the sunken castle was right on the money, who knows what else is out there?"

Amy considered this.

"So I'd be… The team librarian?"

"You'd be the team loremaster."

"Do you think Sonic reads to help his friends?" she asked.

You'd need to pin his legs down with a large boulder first, but after that?

"Definitely. That is a very Sonic thing to do."

"Then I'll do it!"

"Radical."

She tilted her head.

"Radical?"

I did finger guns.

"Another word for your way-past-cool vocabulary list!"

"Woah!"

I could swear I saw actual sparkles in her eyes. We shook hands, and I was now confident that she'd have no more issues with wanting to endanger herself for danger's sake.

"I do have one condition!" she declared.

I raised an eyebrow.

"After we shook on it? You know that's not how it works, right?"

"Please, Mister Wizard?"

"It doesn't work that way, but fine. I'm a nice guy. What's your condition?"

Amy took an open box from beside her window and lifted it into my arms. I looked down, and saw that it held a cardinal with a massive head and a pair of injured wings lying in bedding. A mobini, or little animal, as opposed to an anthro mobian. They were rare due to an ever-present demand for critters to power badniks. The bird's breath was shallow, and one of its eyes was scarred by the slash of a talon. It didn't look like she was caring for him for very long, yet I could tell that she was caring for it the best she could.

"What happened to him?"

"This little guy got attacked by a raptor hawk." I held back a shudder. You learned to do that when a man-sized monster bird with projectile feathers came up in a conversation.

"Where'd you find him?"

"Out in the forest, when I was picking flowers. I think his flicky friends left him behind. Friar Buck doesn't know if he'll get better. Can you fix him? Please?"

At no point have I found any sort of restriction or limitations to my powers. I could fly, shoot lasers, contain objects in a zone of my own creation, and likely more I haven't had the chance to discover yet. The only limiting factors were how much energy I was willing to spend to make what I wanted happen, and if I could live with the consequences.

"Yes. I can."

Amy gave me a small thank you and I moved the bird box into a light clearing where no one could see me commit what might turn into a perversion of nature. All the while, I focused motes of energy into my ruby-studded hand with the intent to heal, not to harm. We'd see if the ruby knew how to tell the difference.

The mobini cardinal -- a genuine flicky -- was alive. Injured, but alive. In the back of my mind, I was looking for a convenient pet cemetery in case I screwed this up. If everything went as planned, then I could heal anyone who got injured in a fight. This was the safest, most ethical way to find out what would happen when I tried to directly affect a living thing.

"Okay, on three." I couldn't wait. "Three!"

The glow in my hands felt lighter, more uplifting, than what I was used to. Not like the force I used to attack robots with. I zapped the bird with a steady flow of what I was pretty sure was a healing spell, and the injured creature rose into the air in a haze of light. Its wings were outstretched, and I could see the lesser wounds sealing themselves shut. The worst injuries, those in the wing and eye, were reversed. As if they never happened at all, save for the scar over the flicky's eye that lingered.

89

When the bird descended to the box, it opened its eyes. Both of them were opened, now fully functional. The flicky flitted its small wings to test them out and rose into the air, affixing me a stern glare that hardly fit its tiny frame. The bird all but glowed with strength and vitality. I might have made him even better than before.

"So I can heal," I said in shock. "Or otherwise got you up and running again."

The flicky kept staring at me.

"Uh, you can go now. You're free."

Slowly, I raised my arm up and down. The bird didn't budge. Its head and eyes tracked my own no matter how hard I tried to shake it away.

"The miracle's over. Go back to your bird buddies." I waited to see if it'd move. "Flock off!"

Rob descended from the trees and affixed me with a confused expression.

"John, is anything amiss? I saw your magic at work, and--" He looked at the flicky and smiled. "I say! It looks like you've made a woodland friend!"

"I guess?"

I could tell my operation didn't go as planned when the flicky took advantage of my distracted state and tried to peck my eyes out.

"Ow! Stop that!"

The little devil tweeted with rage. Ultimately, I wrestled with the consequences of my hubris for an embarrassingly long amount of time until Amy pulled the flicky off with a bribe of bird seed. After the ordeal passed, she had the nerve to ask her cousin a cheeky question.

"Can we keep him?"

"Well…"

He didn't say no, and as a result I had to add 'flicky falconer' to my job list.

- - -

Spoiler: Author Notes / Lore

As a primarily character-focused chapter, the notes for this chapter will be on the short side. This was originally going to be a more action-oriented chapter where they kick ro-butt and take serial numbers, but I had way too much fun writing the lore stuff and developing Rosy as a character that wasn't the stereotypical child pest. You know, like how she started in the comic.

While Morglay is a sword Lancelot uses in Sonic & the Black Knight, Murgleys is the sword of Ganelon in The Song of Roland. The appraisal tomes Rosy has in her room have also been borrowed from the second chapter of the Storybook series.

Flickies are a species of bird that anyone who's popped open a badnik should be familiar with. They originated from the Flicky arcade game, became a regular animal friend in Sonic, and got the starring role in Sonic 3D Blast! They're even a part of Tails' super state in S3K, where they flitter around Super Tails like cute buzzsaws hungry for blood. The other one with wings, the Raptor Hawk, is a foe in Sonic Chronicles: The Dark Brotherhood. I don't suggest you play the game, but the picture of it sure looks cool!

 

[weredrago2]

Ruby Haze
Chapter 10: Heavy Mettle

Instead of a massive, singular pit mine in the middle of nowhere, Quart Quartz turned out to be a network of interconnected caverns and tunnels with dug-out sections exposed to the open air. It was a remote facility, situated deep into the Mercian hinterlands to rob its prisoners of any hopes of returning to civilization. Robian guards armed with big, cartoony muskets patrolled the perimeter of the mines alongside the tall 'ogre' robots I fought when I first landed on Mobius. While they watched the swampline on the ground, roboticized guards atop wooden watchtowers with bullseye lanterns standing in for spotlights. From my bird's eye view, I could see scores of mobians in chains pushing carts and carrying massive, cyan crystals by hand.

Once his aerial sweep was complete, the flicky dove at the oddly-angular woodlands and spiraling, rocky outcroppings where he returned to my arm. It was the same one we'd taken in, though over the next day it became clear that I'd done more than 'fix' his wings. His red feathers molted, replaced with a sharp set of magenta and white. The beak and legs, once a bright yellow, darkened to an ashy black. The flicky's temper mellowed out after the initial shock, and I was able to barter food for his continued cooperation. While there were other side effects I'd call beneficial, there was no getting around the fact I had irrevocably altered the flicky's nature with the ruby. I won't go 'fixing' anyone else unless there was no other choice to save them.

I turned to the rest of the party, which consisted of Rob O' the Hedge, Arthur the Boar, Gilbert Woolhand, Monsieur Chat, and Fifi the Poodle. A grand total of six freedom fighters versus a fully-staffed detention center. I didn't like our odds in a frontal assault unless I went for broke.

"Wot's the little flicky got to say?" Arthur asked.

The mobini let out a tweet.

"Figment says they've got guard towers there, there, and there," I recited.

Arthur frowned.

"Tha' was a joke, lad. Flickies don't talk."

"This one does. It's a magic thing."

It was less the bird talking, and more that we shared senses. What he saw, I saw. What he heard, I heard. I also now knew what worms taste like; not that I asked him to share it.

"I had heard o' witches having familiars in fairy tales," Gilbert said. "Figment, eh? It's nice to have a scout in the sky."

Figment preened.

"The guards are more concerned with folks trying to get out than in. We have the advantage there. That drain tunnel Chat knows can get us past the outdoors watchmen, but we can't say how many robians are gonna be crawling on the other side."

I turned to Rob and let him take things from there.

"Good show, John. Chat, dost thou know where Barbe Vis would be at this moment?"

The Maquis leader pointed out one of the stubby, brutalist buildings set upon the excavated hills.

"Barbe Vis oversees the mines from that command room," he said. "If we set off any alarms, he will know right away."

"Can he send a message to the outside from there?" I asked.

"Yes. Do you see the metal dish atop the tower? Satellite communication would put him in contact with the High Sheriff at a moment's notice."

"What about the roboticizer?"

"They must still be using one at Quart Quartz. Otherwise, they would need to send prisoners to Snottingham and back for robotization."

If Barbe Vis possessed a roboticizer on site, then we could attempt to steal it and send it westward to Knothole. Assuming it wasn't booby trapped. Rob told me second-hand horror stories about rebels thinking they were lucky to find an intact roboticizer, only to wind up on the receiving end of its effect upon trying to tamper with it. On top of that, Robotnik kept a tight grip on the technology by limiting the amount of times any roboticizers outside of his direct reach could do the deed before burning themselves out.

Taking one home was never going to be a shortcut to undoing the years of harm they've done. Sensing the mood had darkened, Rob O' the Hedge retook control of the conversation.

"Fret not, fellows. Together, we shall avoid the jailer's gaze and arrange for his prisoners to be set free," he said.

"A-Are you sure we can get inside?" Fifi stammered. "There are so many of zem…"

"I can do that," I said. "With a flick of the wrist, we'll be invisible."

Chat raised a skeptical eyebrow.

"You mean that camouflage trick we were informed of?" he asked.

"More than that. With more effort, I can make us impossible to see or hear in a bubble focused around myself."

"You are certain you can maintain composure for the whole of the endeavor?" Rob asked.

"Yes, assuming we all stayed close together."

I popped open a portal to my pocket zone and started handing weapons. Swords, bows, and arrows that would have only slowed us down if they were dragged along the old-fashioned away. I smiled slightly at the 'pugilist arrow' with a padded glove on the end and handed a couple to Rob. It'd come in handy if he felt the need to slug a guy from one side of a room to another.

♦ 86

"Are you sure you don't have any muskets in there?" Fifi asked. "I am better with ze gun then ze bow."

The subject of muskets surprised me the first time it came up, but they did call themselves 'musketeers' for a reason. The Mercian infantrymen the Maquis claim their origins from were early adopters of the gun. Or very, very late adopters, when you remembered they were up against soldiers with laser rifles. Apparently, Fifi was the best sniper the Maquis had in their ranks when her hands were steady.

"Will a crossbow do?"

"Oui. Eet will have to do."

I pulled out a crossbow to hand it to her, then stopped. I looked back at the mine.

"Do you want me to go get one?" I offered.

Her eyes went to a lone robian guard chicken who stalked the road like Elmer Fudd.

"Non, non! Eet would be far too risky!"

I looked away from Fifi, towards the guard. Then back to the pink portal I made that transports anything I desire to a dimension with seemingly infinite breadth and depth.

"Wait a second…"

I floated towards the robian from the sky, making myself impossible to see from their angle.

♦ 85

"What art thou doing?" Rob hissed, alarmed by my sudden action.

"Dat blighter's gonna give us away again," Arthur groused.

"Ze bag! Oh, where ees ze paper bag?!"

I got within four meters of the guard and held up a hand. Above that hand, a fresh portal appeared, roughly one and a half meters in diameter. On my other hand, I made an illusory shilling and ficked it at the guard's head.

"Zounds!" the robian squawked after it bounced off his tin hat.

The soldier turned around. It only had enough time to point his gun at me before the portal swiped them out of existence.

♦ 83

I tried exploring the limits of 'Null Space' in my days of isolation after losing control in the Highlands. Those boundaries were never found, no matter how hard I tried. Everything I sent in would drift in a void where fickle things such as time and space lost all meaning. Even so, anything I wanted was always where I wanted it, when I wanted it.

For that reason, it only took me a moment to rifle through my pocket zone and hand the musket to a rattled Fifi.

"Mon dieu," she whispered in shock.

"Gadzooks," Rob exclaimed. "What hast thou done?"

"I figured out a new trick," I replied.

I made a bubble and showed a visual representation of the captured robian in my hand.

"Poor Bremen," Fifi said upon recognizing the chicken.

"Bremen was their name? I thought 'Bremen' was where they lived."

"Non, ze Minstrels joined together because zey all happened to have ze same name. He played alongside Bremen ze Dog, Bremen ze Cat, and Bremen ze A--"

"John Wizard," Rob said sternly. "Look me in thine eyes and tell me thou didst not destroy him."

I paused, taking note that Rob doubled down on his stilted, Shakespearean tone got more pronounced when he was talking as King O'Hedge. I caught him slipping now and again when we were at rest. Enough to figure out his 'royal tongue' was an affectation nobility were expected to keep up in front of people. I don't even know if he liked talking that way. It was something he was expected to do as king, and he did it.

Right now, he wasn't talking as my friend, but as the protector of his people. A protector who didn't approve of me killing any more of said people than I had to.

My eyes flashed pink as I made a deeper scrutinization of the captured robian, in order to make sure that I didn't misjudge my gambit.

"The robian's in stasis."

"Thine meaning?"

"Depowered and in one piece. I can do that to as many of them as we need to until we can make a de-roboticizer. Or some kind of detention center."

"You are absolutely certain that they cannot escape?"

"Absolutely."

Rob deliberately read my face to check for any falsehood. He knew I was telling the truth and let out a sigh of relief.

"Then it is a sound enough place to keep them. Can thee do the same for the other robians, capturing them whilst we enter the mines from the tunnels and search for the Maquis?"

"I can, but we need to be quick about it. One guard being late to report in won't drive them to battle stations, but they'll notice something is up sooner or later. Then they'll report to the command room and…"

I stared at the command room.

"Any objections to me going up there and dealing with them first?"

"I do not object, Wizard, but it is as thou said. Have a care not to be spotted."

Monsieur Chat turned to me.

"If such a thing is in your power, then leave Vis alive. He has much to answer for."

I double-and-then-triple-checked Null Space for my secret weapon. It felt like a warm glow, only a grasp away. When I did see Barbe Vis, I'd introduce him to it.

"That shouldn't be a problem." I turned to address the poodle. "Fifi, can you cover me?"

"M-Moi?" she squeaked.

"You'll get to stay on this ledge and be out of the direct fire. If anyone tries to shoot me, you shoot them first." I spared a glance to Rob so he knew we were on the same page. "Joints and limbs only. Nothing they can't get back after a trip to the repair ship, okay?"

Fifi looked away as she measured the risk in her head.

"Oui. I will be having your back."

"Then we have our mission," Rob said. "To arms!"

Everyone brought their swords together. I took out a sword that didn't have a bad record.

"To arms!"

The conventional infiltration team departed. I made the effort to become invisible as a gradual process over the course of a few seconds so as not to unnerve my sniper any further.

"How will I know when to start shooting if I cannot see you?" Fifi asked me.

I set Figment on her shoulder.

"He'll tell you when."

"Oh! H-Hello!" Fifi took out a chunk of hardtack from her bag. It looked like it could block a bullet if she wore a whole vest of the stuff. "Does ze pretty bird want a cracker?"

Figment tilted his head and examined the biscuit before giving it a nibble.

It tasted like it had worms in it.

- - -

The intimidating, stark countenance of the command building and the gauntlet of stage hazards surrounding it didn't mean much when you could fly and were rather confident about your resistance to harm. Taking care of everyone in the brain first only made sense.

Due to my prior actions, the High Sheriff likely knew by now that the mysterious 'John Wizard' could turn invisible, hit like a freight train, or ignore gravity whenever he wanted. To prevent him from learning anything else, the name of the game was to strike fast, hit hard, limit how much I showed off, and leave him guessing where I'll show up next.

All I needed to do was hover above the miserable scene below without buckling to my better nature and rescue the prisoners right away. It was hard to tear myself from the sight of two bugs being shaken down for their valuables by the guards. They were standing next to a large, orange van that looked too modern for the rest of the mines. Some kind of delivery truck?

"No!" the butterfly girl with large, colorful wings cried. "Not me fiddle!"

"Music is banned!" the weasel robian declared before breaking the offending instrument on his knee. It split with a nasty crack.

"Nooo!"

The butterfly openly wept for the loss of her fiddle. The green cricket chained to her tried to rush the guard, to no avail.

"Ya brute!" he shouted in righteous indignation.

An iron pig smacked the cricket down to the dirt, causing the attached butterfly to go flying to the ground with him.

I forced myself to tune out the brutality. A decapitation strike would do much more for them in the long term than a straight brawl that let the bad guy get away to fight another day. Take Barbe Vis off the table, open new options, get everyone out of here.

I landed on a narrow, wooden bridge leading to the control room, ignoring the rickety platforms and rampant conveyor belts I would have had to negotiate if I was less smart. Taking a glance through the window, I saw that it was loaded with ill-maintained buttons and switches whose purposes I couldn't divine. Like an old Soviet power station, with the boards operated by stubby, can-shaped badniks on wheels. The one robian I could make out was a big bear in Napoleonic uniform with a jagged beard made out of blued metal screws.

Barbe Vis, or Screw Beard. If this wasn't my man, I'd eat his bicorn hat. The roboticized boss was looking down and enjoying the show.

"Do my ears deceive moi? Or is zat ze sound of a pretty girl weeping?" He reveled in their pain loud enough to hear through the glass. He twirled the wire of his brass telephone receiver in his clawed finger as he spoke into it. "Eh. Ze sound ees getting annoying now. Roboticize zem!"

The two watching the door had no chance of seeing me coming before they were bodily shoved into another dimension. Out of sight, in my mind.

♦ 80

With that done, I walked up to the steel door, coated my legs in heavy armor, and kicked it hard enough to knock Barbe Vis out of his chair.

"MERDE!"

First swear I've heard since I got here. Before he could make a more comprehensible response, I extended both arms and hosed the room in a deluge of pink liquid magic.

♦ 75

I entered the room, my feet not touching the ground as I walked towards the robian at the center of the glittery torrent. Barbe Vis tried swimming against the crystalizing tide, but he was far too heavy to do anything more than keep his head above 'water'. The little robots were swept up and frozen in place by solidified pillars of translucent gemstone.

"You're ze scarlet wizard!" Barbe Vis declared when he saw me.

I raised an eyebrow.

"Scarlet?" I asked dully. "That's a new one."

The crystals would immobilize him soon enough. I picked up his brass phone and cleared my throat.

"Belay zat last order," I said in a flawless rendition of Barbe Vis' accent. "We need ze bugs in one piece for questioning."

"You sure, sir? We're halfway done."

I whipped my head around to the events happening outside. The orange van was glowing and shaking. From this angle I could make out the crude label on the sides, clear as day.

2-FOR-1 BOT ON THE SPOT.

The roboticizer was there the whole time.

"Get them out of there!" I shouted into the receiver. "Do it now--!"

A gunshot rang out behind me as a ball of lead tore into the back of my head. The projectile broke up into smaller fragments that ran roughshod over everything past my skull cap, driving my face into the control board from the sudden shock of death's embrace.

♦ !!

The fatal injury disappeared in an instant, but the pain echoed as if I was being shot multiple times in rapid succession. I rose from the sparking electronics and let out a howl of pain. Ruddy clouds stormed around my head like a hurricane.

♦ 70

I crushed the receiver in my hand. Barbe Vis was behind me, an iron rictus and the smoking blunderbuss in his hands telling me all I needed to know.

"Ha! Not so invincible after all, Scarlet!"

The crystal flow had paralzyzed everything below the neck, and there was nowhere he could run. I felt an object come to my hands and an overpowering urge to beat him into scrap with it.

"Do your worst! I go to ze refuse heap in knowledge zat I served--"

I smacked him with the object, throwing the weapon out of his hands.

"That's all you can--!"

Then I hit him again, issuing a dent to his chrome dome as penance for mine.

"Your mother smells of elderberries!"

I hit him a third time. A strike across his rusted nose that bent it inwards.

"I'll never talk--"

"Would you shut up?!"

Then I hit the bear hard enough to tear his blue beard off its hinges. The robian's iron jaw became partially loosened with it.

"You insignificant, weak little…"

♦ 71

The brilliant, golden ring vaporized in my hands on final impact with the Barbe Vis' face, and the ruby haze that surrounded my mind went with it.

My hand recoiled back instantly. The robian let out a choked, mechanical creak that sounded like resignation.

"What was I…?"

Cautiously, I brought a new ring to my hand. Its glow touched my skin like a warm embrace. I was holding the light at the end of the tunnel.

"I…"

What was I doing?

Thinking quickly, I dissipated the crystals surrounding Barbe Vis, and picked him up off the ground. He was in no state to resist me anymore. I set his jaw back in place and focused my power to mend the physical damage I did before placing the ring in his hands.

♦ 70

"You… You need this more than I do. Take it, and remember whoever you were. Please."

For a second, I was worried I was wrong and that this wouldn't work like it did in the cartoon. That fear was washed away when the glow of the ring spread from the robian's hands and enveloped the rest of his body.

"Who I was?" the musketeer who had become Barbe Vis asked.

"Before you were changed."

I was horrified that I was nearly so taken by a sudden, bloodthirsty rage that I nearly forgot I came here to do exactly this. To save a person of high ranking in the Sheriff's army that could help us. His eyes blinked and his expression softened, the idea of regaining what was lost reaching him on a level beyond the mere words I was saying.

"Before," he echoed back, and I knew I wasn't talking to Barbe Vis anymore. "My word. Where ees General Armand? I must get back to ze front lines!"

I looked outside. The roboticizer was still on!

"No time to explain! Stay tight, and I'll pick you up in a jiffy!"

"Jiffy? Who ees El Jiffy?"

He looked understandably confused, which was preferable to being my enemy. I lifted up one of the crystalized robots and threw the red boulder out the window, shattering the glass. The massive gem boulder tumbled off a slide and bowled into a guard tower, topping it over in a cacophony of crumbling wood and metal.

♦ 68

My perception of lethal falls having been permanently skewed by falling from orbit, I jumped out of the window and landed on the roboticizer van. Summoning a full set of red armor around my body, I hacked the roof off the vehicle with Morglay and kept chopping at the flickering internals until the roboticizer ground to a sputtering halt.

♦ 66

I looked around, and saw that all eyes were starting back at me. Mobians in chains and robians with firearms alike. No one who expected me to drop in and pick a fight in a place as heavily fortified as this. Stealth was completely shot, and I prepared my defenses for a lot more shots to come my way. Now the only option was, as I said I didn't want to do earlier, to take all of them on and make the distraction worth it for the others.

When I put it all into perspective, this whole 'freedom fighter' shtick was insane. I wasn't a soldier. Or a swashbuckler. Or a hero. This wasn't even my country. Clearly, I was just a screwball who didn't know when to cut their losses or charge more for this kind of flashy nonsense that Sonic seemed to do for free.

Bringing a bright ball of light to my hand, I launched scattershot bursts of energy at any chains I could see. The prisoners and peasantry were freed from their bonds in a flash.

♦ 60

I raised a fist and tried to motivate the crowd.

"RISE UP, PEOPLE!" As I was the immediate threat, the robian guards ignored the awed prisoners and focused fire at me instead. The shots bounced off my armor. "LIKE THIS!"

I picked up a robian from a distance with a chain of pink energy and chucked him into an open mine cart, sending them hurtling through a line of their own.

♦ 58

The crowd started to act form my example. They shoved their attackers away, using spare mining tools as weapons before the initiative could be taken from them. One of the robians was disarmed by a projectile shooting their hands from the distant woods.

While the prisoners fought back against their oppressors, I hacked the bugs that were caught in the roboticizer free from their restraints and pulled the two of them out of the wreckage. The butterfly's body seemed intact, at first, but the wings on her back had become gray sheets of metal with thrusters and hard points. The cricket's legs had been completely converted, replaced by new, hydraulic equivalents.

I was too late.

"I'm so sorry," I said remorsefully.

"Sorry?" the cricket asked. "Yeh saved us!"

"Yeah!" the butterfly said in agreement. "We're alive thanks to yeh!"

They didn't look scared at all, in spite of what happened to them. Was the adrenaline postponing a total freakout? That, I could relate to.

More bullets flew past our heads. I set the bugs down on the ground and surrounded them in a protective prism of ruby light.

♦ 57

"On second thought, talk later! Take cover NOW!"

I raised my sword and free hand again, raising my voice so that all of the prisoners could hear me over the chaos.

"Anyone who wants to be free, follow my lead!"

"Who are you?" one of the prisoners asked. "You're not Rob O' the Hedge!"

"Got it in one!"

I forewent the crossbow and hit the robians with a hail of plunger bolts straight out of Null Space. Now that I know how to use my powers, I can't justify holding back and letting people be hurt by my inaction anymore.

♦ 56

I pointed at an ogre bot and drove a pugilist arrow straight through its head.

♦ 55

What was it that Vis called me again?

"Call me John Scarlet!"

- - -

Spoiler: Author Notes / Lore

Not too much to talk about this time.

While they aren't on Little Planet, Quart Quartz is based on Quartz Quadrant. It's one of the more simple levels in Sonic CD and has good music. What more can you ask for?

Like how Monsieur Chat corresponds to Puss in Boots, Barbe Vis is based on Bluebeard. I almost called him Blue Bear to remove any subtlety. The bluing of the metal on his beard to complete the joke was something I added later when I remembered what bluing was. If there was a dash of Pete's Cardinal Richelieu impression from that Three Musketeers adaption, I couldn't say.

Rings being able to help robians remember who they were in SatAM and the comics. The SI doesn't remember reading the comics, but he did watch the show.

Will Scarlet was the last notable member of the Merry Men that I didn't give an equivalent until now. Surprise!

 

[weredrago2]

Ruby Haze
Chapter 11: The Outlandish Connection

Once I started fighting my way through the prison's staff listing, the whole 'stealth' part of the mission fell through the window. The riot that this erupted into would have been a bad thing, had I kept to our original goal of going in, taking who we needed, and making ourselves scarce.

Since I successfully handed the mind of one of the High Sheriff's lieutenants back to its rightful owner, I had a better idea. I changed the parameters. Increased the scope. Now I wanted the whole mine under our control.

"Oi! Back in yer--!" a robian musketeer said as I lifted it by the neck. "Uh oh."

I chucked it into an open pillory and it snapped shut.

♦ 50

"Hold that thought."

I turned back towards the mouth of the nearest cavern, from which I could see more figures running towards me.

"Friend or foe?" I shouted at the figures, a glowing hand emitting a bright light to cut through the darkness.

"Friend!" Rob declared. Alongside him were Chat and the rest of the Crazy Kritters. The team were escorting scores of civilians to safety. "I see thou hadst gotten busy without us!"

"You're just in time. How did your side of things go?"

The Crazy Kritters took shots at the robians who were trying to corral prisoners back to their cells or otherwise retake control of the situation. Declining the offered bow and arrows earlier, Monsieur Chat rushed the guards with his blade.

"We were unable to find William Stoatley or the remainder of the Maquis. Prithee, were thee successful in disabling Barbe Vis?"

I shot crystalizing beams at the guards nearest to Chat, pinning their feet down so he could disarm them with his swift, practiced efficiency. It was like watching a surgeon put their fencing hobby to work. Or a fencer with a minor in anatomy. His agility was such that he could run and jump across the alternating conveyor belts without losing balance.

♦ 48

"Yes and no," I answered vaguely.

Rob shot a pugilist arrow at the robian on a tower, delivering a long-distance uppercut to its jaw.

"Aye and nay? I needeth more of an explanation than that, pilgrim."

"Do you remember those rings I mentioned to you before we left?"

Rob nocked six arrows at once and fired them at a robian goon squad armed with man catchers. They all fell down in a chorus of thumps.

"Thine rings of power thou found amidst the ruins of Old Sylvan?" he asked. "Were they sufficient for thine purposes?"

"It felt like I got a boost when I touched them, but it turned out that's not all they're good for."

I pulled out a handful of plunger bolts from Null Space to see if I could repeat his stunt when a whistling rocket of red light burst out of the woods. It was none other than Figment, who bowled over the remains of the mob like a feathered wrecking ball with a furious tweet.

"Dang, I didn't know he could do that! Think that's all of them?"

"Thou art beating around the bush, John. What didst thine rings do when ye gave one to Barbe Vis?" He looked at my ruby-bearing arm. "And why do ye have two on thine gauntlet right now?"

Shadow wore a pair of inhibitor rings to restrain his power. I figured he was on to something.

"There's one more!" Monsieur Chat shouted.

He pounced at the final threat from above, only to be grabbed by a red and black ogre bot covered in an extra layer of spikes that made it reminiscent of a zeti. Chat struggled in the looming machine's massive, constricting grasp.

"FREEDOM FIGHTER CAPTURED. CRUSHING WITH EXTREME PREJUDICE."

While Rob and I readied another attack to pry him loose, a jagged silhouette got behind the robot and twacked their metal shin with an iron cane.

"Oh, no you don't!" Barbe Vis shouted at the robot. He had the good sense to put his ring on his wrist so as not to drop it. "Unhand my brother-een-arms zis instant!"

He thwacked the bot again, knocking it to the ground and throwing Chat into the air. Barbe Vis caught Chat in his arms. I was going to take the opportunity to pinch the robot's head into a ball of scrap with a ruby hand, but a musket ball from Fifi went through one of its mechanical eyes and neutralized it instantly.

Chat stared at his rescuer with a look of shock and anger.

"YOU!"

"That's right!" the mentally-restored musketeer said with his bear trap grin. "I bet you were not expecting Sir Bruin to make a comeback, ey Ty… Balt!?"

Sir Bruin stopped talking when he noticed Chat trying to put a sword through his neck.

"You are not Sir Tybalt!" Bruin said as he dropped Chat in surprise.

Chat landed on his feet and readied his blade for a second attempt. I stood between them before it could get worse.

"Alright folks, that's--"

"I am his son," he said at volume a shade below a yell.

"Son? I never knew Tybalt had a son! Why, you'd have to be--!"

Chat didn't give him the chance to finish the sentence, suddenly charging with murderous intent. I erected a force wall before Chat could take his head. Or mine.

♦ 45

"Get out of my way, overlander! That is Barbe Vis!"

"No, he isn't. Not anymore."

"Have you gone mad?!"

The din of the battle had faded to a halt, as the robians were rounded up into the same cells they once guarded. The freed peasantry looked upon the current scene in a crowded circle.

"Not anymore?" Rob repeated. When my meaning hit him, his eyes opened wide. "By the Ancient Walkers! I hath feared it to be impossible!"

"Wot's he talkin' about?" Arthur the Boar asked.

"What I'm talking about is that restored his mind with one of these."

I pulled out a spare ring and held it up. The glow became more intense as it drank in the moonlight, which seemed to reflect on the other rings worn by Bruin and myself.

"You expect me to believe the metal butcher is his old self again?" Chat said as he slowly stalked the edge of the barrier wall. "Surely it is a trick!"

Sir Bruin took off his hat.

"It ees no trick. My living nightmare has finally loosened eets grip on me. Though I do not know for certain how many years Robotnik has taken from me."

He turned to Rob O' the Hedge.

"If zat cat is Tybalt's son, would zat make you one of ze king's boys?" he asked Rob. "My liege. What year ees eet?"

"Three thousand, two hundred and thirty four."

He takes a step back, his mechanical joints rumbling with the shock.

"Sacre bleu! Zat ees over ten years!"

I waved my arm, and the force wall vanished.

"If we're all done fighting? I think I have some explaining to do."

- - -

♦ 35

What followed was the most tense tea breaks I've ever seen. I didn't even think it was tea time, and yet I found myself at a table sipping a cup of dried leaves mixed with river water I boiled in excess to keep out any bacterial pests. At the table listening to my explanation of rings were a calm Gilbert, a chatty Arthur, a fretful Fifi, and a simmering Chat. If Rob didn't go with the former robian boss and ordered Chat not to follow, I think he might have made another play at him.

"…So that's what rings are, at least in my limited understanding of them. Any questions?"

Arthur raised his hand.

"Yes?"

"We get the ring stuff already. Wot'cha doin' with the whole Scarlet business?"

"Hmm?"

"You shouted to all them folks that yer gonna call yerself John Scarlet. John Wizard not fancy enough fer ya?"

"Oh, that? Bruin mentioned something about me being the 'Scarlet Wizard'. Presumably, that's what the High Sheriff's been calling me. Frankly, it sounded cool to pass up."

Arthur let out a snort.

"O'course. Cool. Blimey, you sound like that Rosy gal."

In addition to freeing all the prisoners, clearing out Quart Quartz to make sure no robians were left to their own devices, and sending the latter to Null Space for later processing, we set up an improvised soup kitchen. With some foraging and raiding the facilities' scant pantries, we had enough food to provide stew and tea for the liberated masses. As some of them were here long enough to forget what a hot meal tasted like, it seemed like a good idea to prevent people from panicking at the continued sight of 'Barbe Vis' and my 'frightening overlander wizard' self. In Rob's own words, the weather "twas becoming rather chilly" anyway.

Was it? I hadn't noticed Mercia being all that cold, or getting colder, even though we were in the equivalent of Western Europe creeping towards winter. It was therefore very cold, and yet what would have been the chill of the wind felt oddly muted. Why? I partially slid the black glove off my hand with the Phantom Ruby on it to see if my sense of touch was better with it off.

Immediately, I took note that my hand had taken on a sickly pallor. Paler than it was when I last checked. The Phantom Ruby was set in the back of my hand, as it has been for some time now, though the rents surrounding it looked less like burn scars and more like the singed pages of a book pulled from the edge of a fire. The pink glow along the veins of my hand had become more intense. Harder to ignore. Pulling the jumpsuit's sleeve down further, I could see that the glowing veins spread down to my wrist, stopping where I wore the two rings as bracelets. The wind felt hot and cold to the touch until I slid it back on.

"Monsieur Chat?" His orange, feline eyes bored into mine. "I understand you're still skeptical. About me. The rings. I can understand that."

"Yet you persist in trying to convince me you are more than a charlatan."

Gilbert raised an eyebrow.

"Ye cannot deny he has powers of some sort after seeing them in action, can ye?"

"I do not deny the 'wizard' possesses powers I do not understand," Chat clarified. "Abilities that are impressive enough to sway the king's judgment. He may have even convinced himself that he has done a miracle."

I frowned.

"I'm still here, you know." I unlatched one of the rings from my arm and tossed it to him. He inspected it. "Keep it. There's more where that came from."

"From the lake of rings surrounding Sylvania Castle?"

"You knew?"

"From the moment I spotted them, and before you attempted to explain what we mobians already knew to us. Power rings are said to gather at holy places, coming and going as they see fit. The Overland underestimated their value as a source of energy, ignoring them in favor of oil and other vile things that harmed their lands."

Well. I was a bit flush at that.

"Did everyone already know rings were a thing, or…?"

"We didst not want to interrupt thine explanation," Gilbert explained.

Fifi gave a nod as she handed Figment another biscuit.

"Oui. You were very into eet."

Chat rolled his eyes.

"They were but a legend until shortly before the Great War, when the Kingdom of Acorn used their rings to power Mobotropolis. There are other things they are said to be capable of, yet your claim that they can liberate the minds of robians remains to be proven."

"By all appearances, he was rather lucid," Gilbert said. "Remorseful, even."

"Yeh. An' they say Sonic fellow o'er in Northamer whizzes around like an arrow thanks to rings."

"Do you have Sonic the Hedgehog on call to corroborate this?"

"Bet we can ask him to visit before the next time the Floating Island flies o'er Eurish."

My eye twitched. I could wrap my head around rings being common knowledge, but Angel Island too? Could I have traveled there the entire time? I opened my mouth to ask about it when a creak of old wood cut me off. Bruin l'Ours stepped down from the half-wrecked stairway to the command room with Rob in tow. We all turned to them.

"I have convinced General D'Coolette--" The turncoat underboss stopped to correct himself. "I have convinced Ze High Sheriff zat your attack was repelled, and zat I will be needing more robots and materials to replace those you stole and sabotaged."

The High Sheriff, as it turned out, was in the same boat as Sir Bruin. He was a member of the Acorn Army assigned to protect Mercia when Robotnik came a-knocking. The two of them didn't just have their memories suppressed, like the rest of the robian rabble who get reduced to primal growls and simple sentences. Bruin and D'Coolette had shell programs overwrite their original personalities so that their strategic minds could be put to evil ends.

If that wasn't a living nightmare, I didn't know what was. At least now we have an inside man who can order whatever we need from Robotnik's catalog. A few more 'thefts' here, a couple of staged 'losses' there, and the Sheriff won't catch wise to the grift until we have enough materials to wage a real war. We turned the remote roughs of the Outlands into another stronghold.

"Z-Ze Sheriff does not suspect a thing?" Fifi asked. Her hands shook as she poured the kettle into a cup… and the table. Evidently, she was still freaking out about having a conversation with what was previously the Maquis' worst enemy.

"Not a thing. Still, Eet shames me to see what Armand has become. What I was turned into."

Monsieur Chat stood up.

"Fifi! You cannot buy into this nonsense, can you?"

Fifi's grip on the kettle slipped, pouring a modest amount of scalding tea on my foot. At least that part of my body was registering heat properly.

"Ow."

"Sorry!"

She set the kettle on the table.

"H-He does not seem to be attacking us, non? Eet ees nice to think zat ze rings let people who get changed have their old lives back. Even as robots."

"It isn't a long term solution," I said. "Rings aren't forever, and I don't know how long the one I gave you will last, Sir Bruin."

The mechanized musketeer sagged. I didn't like being the one to tell him his free will was on borrowed time, but someone had to. If rings were infinite, I'd give every robian one and tell them which direction to march in for payback.

"Zat ees what I was afraid of. You would need to stop by all ze time to give me what I need to avoid becoming a pawn of ze enemy again. Eet ees… unsustainable. I will do what I can with ze time I have."

Rob O' the Hedge put a hand on his shoulder.

"Fret not, Sir Bruin. Our allies in Northamer hath informed me of a means by which thee wouldst be free to aid us our cause forever more."

"The Knothole Freedom Fighters?" I asked.

"The very same. They call the contraption a neuro-override device. If we couldst secure one for thee, we wouldst have a spy in the High Sheriff's upper echelons."

"It would be my honaire to serve ze crown again. Zen, with hope, we can get ze General back and turn zis whole war around."

"You claimed to know my father," Chat interjected in a non-sequitur.

"Aye. I did. Never have I seen a braver musketeer than him."

"What was his daughter's name?" he asked.

Bruin scratched his metal beard. He went out of his way to 'trim' its most dangerous points once he had his bearings again.

"Your sister's name? I was zere when zey were picking ze names, you know." Chat analyzed the robian's response, measuring his words syllable by syllable. "Oscar for a boy, Rose for a girl. Zat would make you Oscar, zen?"

Monsieur Chat said nothing at first. Then, his muscles slowly relaxed. I hadn't seen him do that before. The guy was a meter of paranoia and bravado stacked vertically.

"I am willing to entertain the idea that you are Sir Bruin for the time being. But should it appear that you are turning again, I will do what I must to protect Mercia."

Bruin nodded in solemn approval, some sort of unspoken understanding going on between them.

"I would expect nothing less from ze child of a true musketeer."

The whole exchange felt like we were intruding on something private that I lacked all the context for. Which is why I was glad when the two bugs from earlier rocketed towards us. Emphasis on 'rocket' for the butterfly, who wasted no time practicing with her metal wings. Her grasshopper boyfriend followed behind her, using his springy legs to make huge leaps.

"Can we… join the… freedom fighters?" the grasshopper asked between jumps.

"We'll be the freedomiest freedom fighters tha' ever did freedom!" the butterfly corroborated.

I could better discern the pair's Irish accents now that we weren't having to deal with immediate threats to life and limb. They both landed at the king's feet in a stumble, having not yet mastered their new appendages.

"We'd be honored ta serve, milord!" they said in unison.

The group looked at them, bewildered.

"Does zis happen all ze time around ze Crazy Kritters?" Fifi whispered to Gilbert.

"Only since Mr. Scarlet joined our ranks. The lad is something of a magnet for the wyrd."

"I see," she said with a nod. I should probably take offense, but I couldn't argue with the logic.

"You two seem quite eagar," Rob said of the two. "What art thine names?"

Rather than give a straight answer, the bugs got up and took out a pair of fiddles. The grasshopper's instrument had a red 'EVIDENCE' label across one side, while the butterfly's was an older one hastily held together by tape. Without warning, they sang and played on the spot.

"~A pair a' traveling bards we be
From a humble shire by the Central Sea
Me name's Presto, an' Cadence is she
We want ta help fight now that we're free!"

Presto the Grasshopper did a clumsy jig with his new legs and stepped aside so Cadence could go next. Her thrusters hovered above the ground like a harrier jet.

"~Yer tales inspired us to roam once more
To travel the kingdom, as before the war
Spreading merriment, from shore ta shore
The bard's callin', we shan't ig--"

Cadence's fiddle broke in her hands.

"Och! Not again!"

I walked up to Cadence, who looked very distraught over the fate of an instrument that wouldn't have been broken if it was more empathetic before they got turned into cyborgs.

"May I?"

She slowly nodded. I didn't know how to fix a fiddle, per say, but I held the halves in place with magic and imagined what the instrument might sound like in one piece. A glow washed over the fiddle until the two pieces became one with a red finish.

♦ 34

"Give it a try."

She did.

"It plays like a dream. Thank ye again, Sir Wizard! We could never repay yer aid."

"Think ya could fix our robot parts, too?" Presto asked.

I shook my head.

"I'm sorry, but it's too dangerous. I won't try and brute force deroboticizing anyone with magic before I can study the effects in a safe, controlled environment."

The bug bards seemed crestfallen at the news, though not for long.

"Ah well!" Cadence replied as she landed and retuned her instrument. The steel wings folded back in response to her shifting balance.

"We can get used ta these!" Presto said. He walked around with better precision than before.

"Do ye lot even know how to fight?" Arthur asked.

"We're fast learners!" Presto said.

"Fast as can be!" Cadence added.

"I do like ze way zey play," Fifi said. "Even if zey do not fight, ze music could lighten our spirits, non?"

"And rarely do we get recruits this eager to get into the thick of it," Gilbert said.

"Eagerness cannot supplement a lack of skill or experience," Chat said. "It may take months to train them to a passable level of expertise for field operations."

"We'll do it!"

"Sign us up!"

These two were being shockingly chipper about the horror show I bore witness to. The only other character I knew who went through a botched robotization procedure was Bunnie Rabbot, and she was hardly happy with it in the cartoon. Did the consequences not sink in?

The more I thought about the swiftness of their decision-making and their overall twitchiness, the more clear it became that they were putting on a brave face for each other. The other mobians we freed gave them a wide berth, clearly frightened and put off by their unwanted augmentations. What are the odds they could go back to that shire of theirs and be accepted, looking like they did? I was going to advocate for letting them join when Rob spoke next.

"Presto and Cadence?" he asked. The King had their full attention. "We would be most elated to have thee in our ranks, provided that ye allow thyselves time to rest and take stock of themselves before ye begin any sort of training."

They looked at each other.

"We can do that," they said.

"Excelsior!"

"Does this mean they are joining the Crazy Kritters or Outland Maquis?" Gilbert asked.

"They are not joining the Maquis," Chat corrected.

Fifi sighed in disappointment.

"You can stay with us," I offered.

"I expect zat we shall need all of ze help we can get," Bruin l'Ours said grimly.

The bards, too hyperactively focused on joining our merry band, were late to notice the robian in our midst. They let out a gasp of fright and hid behind me of all people for protection.

"Relax, guys. He's on our side now. Care to fill us in on what that's supposed to mean?"

"Ze Sheriff was more zan upset about Ze Crazy Kritters' recent successes. He has figured out zat ze robians will no longer be enough to slow ze rebels down. You, Monsieur Scarlet, have left a strong impression een spite of my attempts to underplay your actions."

"Didst yon Sheriff allude to his newest plans for our capture?" Rob asked.

"Not een so many words."

Bruin l'Ours placed a paper strip on the table. I mistook it for a grocery store receipt, but the contents were far more dire: A production list straight off the assembly lines of Robotropolis.

"What ees zat?" Fifi asked.

"A list of my new recruits. He has remanded several squads of SWATbots to my control."

"The Sheriff is finally taking us seriously," Chat mused.

"SWATbots?" Presto asked. "What're those?"

"Robotnik's own tin soldiers. Along with a large assortment of badniks. Zis force ees only part of ze first wave of reinforcements from Robotropolis sent to flood ze country. Already, Ze High Sheriff has called for new badnik bosses to replace ze Lansquenets in ze Highlands region."

We all knew this was coming, sooner or later. The High Sheriff was sending in the big guns. Being 'captured' was a lot less likely with purpose-built war machines, and it'd be a lot harder to escape them if you did. A lot of people began talking at once.

"Mon dieu! We cannot fight an army of badniks!"

"Woman, would ya pipe down and grow a spine already?"

"Arthur, please!"

"Don't talk to Fifi that way, you chauvinist pig!"

"Would a song make everyone feel better?"

"How about this one? ~I'm just a juggler, an' everywhere I ger--!"

"Enough!" King O'Hedge yelled. "We have all discussed the possibility of The Sheriff calling his master for aid before. We will need to alter our methods, train thyselves beyond our prior limits, to overcome these new tribulations. No matter what it takes, our resolve to reclaim our kingdom is resolute. Is there anyone among us who would disagree?"

That quelled the argument. No one spoke up against what he was saying, as we were all devoted to this. I was expecting Fifi or the two new ones to back out, but they stood their ground. They were sticking to it.

"If he's upping his game, then we need to do the same," I said to break the accompanying silence. "Go quiet and bunker down for a few months if we have to, as long as we never stop working to kick the legs out from under them."

"What do ye propose?" Rob asked.

I dropped a handful of gold coins from Null Space into my hand.

"That depends. How far do a couple tons of quartz and gold go on the black market?"

- - -

Spoiler: Author Notes / Lore

"Bruin l'Ours" alludes to two French folktale bears of note: Bruin the Bear from the Reynard cycle and Jean de l'Ours, or John the Bear. The latter is known for swinging around an iron cane. His personality should also remind readers a bit of Porthos from the Three Musketeers.

"Sir Tybalt" hints at Tybalt, the Prince of Cats from the Reynard cycle, though the Tybalt, Prince of Cats you see in Romeo & Juliet is more known these days than the original. The chapter also has a hint at where Monsieur Chat is coming from, besides standing in for Sir Percival from Sonic & the Black Knight.

Presto & Cadence are very, very loosely based on the main characters of Tempo on the SEGA 32X, Tempo & Katy. Or at least, they draw their roots from the times I portrayed them as psychedelic space cadets in my VeloCITY/Sonic campaign. They lived in the Special Zone and could break out into dance numbers to destabilize reality. For reasons you can guess, I greatly toned down all of that nonsense so I could put a new spin on the charming duo.

For those who revisit prior chapters or still need to read them for the first time, I spruced up the accents on a few characters to make them more consistent. Let me know if I missed any.

 

[weredrago2]

Ruby Haze
Chapter 12: Road to Leonus

Compared to the cold-to-temperate climate of Mercia, the air outside the deck of the old patrol ship was warm, humid, and overall unpleasant. It was almost like I was back home in Florida, save that we were sailing through a strait wide enough to split a continent in half. I couldn't see both sides of it unless the sky was cloud-free. Along the coasts, I could make out a pair of Mediterranean forests with tall cypress trees and berry shrubs, beyond which lay twin mountain ranges and the ruins of another lost civilization.

I furrowed my brow and took out my notepad.

ARZ in Southern Europe Eurish. Echidna made? Nocturnus? Someone else?

It couldn't be the Overland. Most of their cities were, regardless of their current status, built all the way on Northamer's east coast. By the time they started expanding into other continents, they were a bit past stone columns and arches. This stripped-down warship I took passage with was evidence enough of that; they left it and several other vehicles behind during a hasty retreat. From what I could gather, the current captain had been using it to smuggle people and contraband through the Dire Strait ever since.

Whatever that salty seagull's story was, it was a smart idea not to look like something he likely killed a couple of during his time in somebody's navy. I'm grateful for the Crazy Kritters accepting me as one of their own, but Friar Buck said in no uncertain terms that few mobians had any warm and fuzzy feelings about mankind. A lot of the mobians I rescued tended to avoid me after the first meeting on the Robotnik association alone. As such, what the captain and the rest of the crew would have seen leaning on the railing was a brawny lion in a purple vest named Maciste. Who he was before meeting them wasn't as important as the fact he was willing to pay handsomely for a ride back to his home country.

That ride wasn't a short one. The distance between Mercia and the Kingdom of Leonus was a voyage of several weeks by water. When I asked how far my money would go, I didn't think I'd have to go this far to spend it. An Efrikan country that predated the Great War and weathered the harsh years as an oil supplier to Robotnik, Leonus had less scrutiny on it than other places did. It was the ideal place to do my business and leave in the cover of as much anonymity I could buy.

As could be expected, the Lansquenets being roboticized in lieu of receiving payment caused the rest of Mercia's mercenaries to flee in droves. I was informed by a few Quart Quartz prisoners who once traveled those circles that West Eurish used to have a strong mercenary tradition in the vein of ancient Greece or Iron Age Spain. What remained of the Overland settlements on the continent bunkered down in the mountains and took to shooting anything in sight, chasing the local mobians off as well.

Unless I wanted to try my luck with a bunch of crazy isolationists, Leonus was my best bet. I invited any of the Mercian freedom fighters to come with me on my 'shopping trip', but they politely declined. Rob told me that he would be "loath to leave the kingdom at such an hour" and that he trusted me to spend literal heaps of gold and treasure wisely.

I thought he was joking until he clarified that he had one hundred percent faith in me. When Chat called his liege a naive fool under his breath, I couldn't help but agree. What would he have done if I pocketed the money and never came back? Not that I would, of course. It was the principle of the thing. The guy was way too trusting of me when I had no idea what I was doing in this crazy world of hedgehogs that can break the sound barrier.

"Could you believe it?" I asked Figment. He turned to face me briefly before his head returned to the water, ignoring me. "Hey, if you want to go fishing, be my guest."

Figment would fish while I mulled over the fact this world looked too much like mine to be a coincidence. Not when I knew for fact that the cartoon's production bible confirmed Mobius was a future Earth so thoroughly ravaged by some disaster or another that it became nearly unrecognizable. Settled by the new dominant lifeforms that had no idea of those that came before them. The trip of a few weeks started to feel like a couple of months after I recovered that scrap of knowledge and stopped sleeping again.

I turned the page to the next side and continued writing.

Angel Island travels and can be tracked. Where is it now? Babylon Garden in the desert? G.U.N. and U.F. anywhere? Are they crazy like Overland?

In one corner, I etched out a circle with three arrows poking out from the bottom and sides in an upside-down triangle formation. Then a trio of lines radiating from the middle out in directions not covered by the arrows.

If G.U.N. turned out to exist here, in some form or another, then I needed to look for that symbol among the hundreds of derelict satellites and extraneous debris in orbit. When I find it, I'll know I hit the jackpot.

Need to solve the power problem. Gas? Thermals?

Sure, John. Stick your hand in an oil well or active volcano and see what happens. Unless I could gobble up the Oil Ocean Zone and take it with me into Null Space, I needed to think bigger than conventional power.

More rings? CEs? Where can I find them? Cocoa Island?

I didn't even know where that was, let alone if it existed in this world. The first thing I needed to buy was a map that covered the whole planet.

What about drives? DG energy? Wisps? What else?

I put down the pencil when Figment returned with a sea bass bigger than his entire body and began ripping into it.

"They taste better cooked."

That was enough writing for now. If a solution was going to come to me, it wouldn't be like this. Surrounded by more questions than answers. I might get some of those answers from Knothole's agent they sent to meet me in Leonus, but I had no clue how I'd react if that contact turned out to be Princess Sally or the Blue Blur.

I was walking back to my quarters to get away from the midday sun when I heard a loud trumpet note being played in the distance.

"What was that?" I shouted to the crow atop the… crow's nest. In spite of being a modern ship as I'd known them, the vessel was refitted with sails and other trappings more suitable for a Spanish galleon. That included a steel drum atop the mast, from which the crow could pull out his spyglass and see what was going on.

I didn't need to bother asking. Seconds after the horn went off, I heard the motors of multiple light watercraft being pushed into the channel.

"Pirates!"

The wolves rode in on ramshackle hoverboards held together by waterproof glue and sheer ignorance to the fact they should have sunk. It wasn't until I could see the midair tricks and the light streaks they left behind that I realized their boards were extreme gear.

"All hands on deck!" the ship captain called out.

The raiders struck fast, riding the waves and treating them like ramps so they could land onto the deck. They raised their gear like shields and drew their swords, which were gladiuses that matched their vaguely Greco-Roman armor.

"We're taking your ship!" a brown wolf wearing red and blue, star-studded armor declared with a vicious glee. "All passengers get off here!"

The wolves aimed their weapons at the outnumbered crew, threateningly goading them towards an inflatable raft. The sailors that were able to arm themselves with spears on short notice were disarmed just as quickly. If this ship wasn't the only one I could find sailing to Efrika on short notice, I would have gone with one that had better protection.

The pirate dressed like hoplite Evel Knievel, who looked to be their boss, poked me in the stomach with his sword.

"Hey, hairball! This is your stop."

"I don't suppose I can convince you to take me the rest of the way?" I asked.

He laughed.

"You're a funny guy. Now get on the raft with the rest!"

"I have money."

The wolf smiled.

"Then empty your pockets first. They say purple's a rich color. Are you anyone worth ransoming?"

Frankly, I've tangled with worse in the past month. Killer machines over twice my size and far more times theirs. My powers didn't make me invincible by any means, but if the worst they could bring out were metal swords, I was fine. My only concerns would be scaring them off without ruining my cover or wasting too much power. I only brought fifty rings.

75

"I'm giving you one warning to pack up and leave," I said firmly.

"You crazy lion!" the seagull captain shouted at me. "You'll get us all killed!"

His smile twisted into a scowl.

"Who do you think you're talking to?" he snarled. "I'm Hector!"

Hector? That's what he was going with? I frowned and reeled back my fist.

"Don't care."

Before the stammering wolf could violently respond, I punched him with what I hoped was less force than I used to take out robians and badnik bosses. That still turned out to be too much force, as the pirate captain was flung clear past the railings and into the water with enough leftover momentum that he skipped on the surface.

74

Oh dear. Was I getting stronger, or was I just bad at holding back? Still, I had to make that look intentional. Focusing to keep up my disguise as a large lion, I cracked my knuckles and added a bit more 'oomph' to the sound effect as I did.

"Who's next?"

The rest of the wolf pack formed a tight circle and boxed me into an arena of shields. I could see the intricate designs they drew on them: Giant beasts, mobian knights, spiny badniks, and humanoid shock troopers. Swords poked out of the openings between shields to prevent anyone from getting cold feet. As one of the warrior wolves entered the arena, a sword flew over the shields and I caught it in one hand.

"A fair fight?" I asked, surprised.

"The Dire Wolves haven't had a good scrap in a while," the wolf growled. "No honor in beating a tough guy if we cheat!"

A spare board was tossed to me after that. My grip was awkward until I found the hand holds, and the rest became natural. The pack engaged me one one at a time when they sensed I was ready to defend myself. After that, it was a trial to beat a more skilled, more numerous foe at their own game.

72

It put me at a disadvantage, but I aimed for their weapons and armor to minimize the injuries I caused. Smashing up robots was one thing. Hurting other living beings -- even if they wanted to give me new breathing holes -- was another. The crowd of rowdy pirates hurled barks and jeers at me as I methodically took their fellows down, one by one.

"Scaredy cat!"

"Hit harder!"

I was pushed back by a wolf bashing me with his shield, resulting in me getting a jab in the back and a shove back into the middle of the ring.

70

There was a gasp from the crowd as I scooped the wolf up with my shield and hoisted him over what was left of the phalanx. I went in harder with the rest of them, using my extra strength and reach to dispatch the pirates as quickly as I could without killing any of them. The sword edge wouldn't work for the job, so I flipped it around and beat them with the pommel until they were all lying down on the deck.

Now I was certain I was getting stronger. I was exerting as little Phantom Ruby power as I could manage. This was all 'me'. Even if I was in better shape than when I got here, there was no way I could fight off this many people at once as a normal human.

Or, to put it another way, I was in such bad shape before that my exponential level of improvement can only be explained with magic.

68

"Anyone else want to test their might against Maciste the Lion?"

"You're no lion!" I turned around to see that the ship captain and crew had taken to pointing their weapons at me next. Including one that looked like a harpoon gun, because I haven't seen enough of those for one lifetime. "You're an overlander!"

I looked down to confirm that my illusion had fallen through during the fight. I was a bit more worn-down and haggard than I would be otherwise, but there was no point denying what I was to them.

"I suppose I am, yes."

"Get the heck off my ship!" the captain ordered.

"What about my ride?" I asked pointedly. "I paid it all up front at your insistence."

The gull then pointed his speargun at my head.

"And I don't deal with you dirty, deceiving overlanders! Leave!"

I held the barrel of the speargun and calmly pushed it away. Whatever fear I was supposed to feel in regards to sharp objects close to my face stopped functioning after years of oral surgeries and more recent threats to my life. Figment, who had up until now been watching us from the sidelines and consuming his catch, flew off.

Real show of solidarity there, Figment.

"I didn't want to have to fly the rest of the way myself, but if you insist."

A wet, gauntleted hand clawed its way onto the deck from the water. It was the wolf pirate Hector, whose sword and board were strapped to his back.

"That's some way to show gratitude!" the pirate spat at the captain. "We Dire Wolves respect our enemies!"

"Yeah!" another wolf cheered.

"Even if they are ugly!" a third one added.

I rolled my eyes.

"You're too kind."

"Yet you would so brazenly insult one who has saved your lives?" Hector asked.

The captain didn't seem at all fazed by this appeal.

"If you want him so badly, then keep him!"

"We will!" Hector exclaimed.

"What?" I asked.

"We welcome you to our ranks, wolf brother!"

This was going too fast. I held up a hand.

"Alright, slow down." I turned to Hector. "Thank you for inviting me to your pirate crew. We'll have to sort out the details later." Then, I turned back to the captain. "Are you absolutely certain you won't be willing to take me the rest of the way to Leonus?"

"You deaf and stupid? I said I'm kicking you out!"

A pity. I crushed his speargun in one hand and shoved a crossbow from Null Space into his neck.

67

"Ack!"

"You greatly underestimated how much I need to take this vacation. Now, get off our ship before I tie you all to the bow and pluck your feathers out by hand."

The seagull had the good sense to keep his beak shut after that. We rounded up his crew and once again separated them from their weapons. While the Dire Wolves canvassed the boat, Figment returned with an old-looking strongbox in his talons.

"My money!" the captain cried.

"Wrong. Our money."

Hector stepped forward and, after gesturing for me to crouch down, whispered a devious idea in my ear. I took a handful of gold coins and tossed them in the raft.

"Here's a severance package for your crew. I want them to think about how your stupidity lost them the closest thing they'll see to stability for a long time."

The sailors, which once had mixed expressions, all looked very angry at their captain. For as long as his position will last. I put my foot on the raft to kick it into the strait.

"Can I get my inhaler?" the crow asked.

I sighed.

"…Sure. Someone get the crow his inhaler. Then we go to Leonus."

I turned around.

"Unless, of course, anyone has a problem with that?"

The Dire Wolves quickly shook their heads.

"Good. I enjoy a trip with quality customer service."

- - -

The rest of the voyage went a lot smoother once the ship was overrun with lawless extreme sports enthusiasts. The Dire Wolves were surprisingly good company, if on the wild side. The days passed with us exchanging tales of our travels and a few of them randomly tackling me for another go of it. It was like going from one dog and zero little brothers to twelve wolves that counted as both. They were fascinated with my battles against the High Sheriff, and I was able to convince them to teach me a few of their fighting tricks in exchange for some of the 'fancier' weapons I received in Mercia.

Hector, unsurprisingly, turned out to be the oldest of the bunch. He cut his teeth fighting other 'warbands' in West Eurish, including overlanders who had taken to working for the highest bidder, until he eventually formed his own gang of wolf cubs he picked up along the way. He was relieved when I told him I had no intent of taking his place.

Over time, the forests gave way to dry brushland, and then a wide expanse of desert. We passed a few fishing villages and clay forts on the way to Leonus' premier trade city. If Robotnik cared about Efrika in the slightest outside of those oil wells, he would have torn them down years ago. Not because they were a threat, but because he could.

"We will reach Casabana in a day's time," Hector informed me. I don't visibly react to the obvious play on a famous Moroccan city. "Are you sure you don't want us to wait for you? We don't like to leave wolves behind, John."

"I'm sure. I don't know how long I'll take to buy the weapons and muscle I'll need. Then I'm taking them all through a portal back to Mercia, because I've wasted enough time as it is to get to Efrika on the down-low."

He nodded.

"If you need our help, just call."

"That's nice of you, but how am I supposed to call? We don't exactly have--"

He tossed me a bulky satellite phone.

"I put our pack under the contacts."

"Oh. Thanks."

Well, they were scavengers. Foraging leftovers from the Great War was how they kept their gear working. It made sense they'd stumble into something like this sooner or later.

"There's one last thing the Dire Wolves wanted to give you before you left."

I raised an eyebrow. Hector led me down the deck, where the Dire Wolves were messing around with a red board I didn't recognize. On the 'shield' side, there was an image of a lion's head surrounded by wings and spikes.

"What's that?" I asked before it was unexpectedly shoved into my arms.

"Our parting gift," Hector said. "Your own gear. We called it Red Chimera!"

I picked up the board and got a feel for its weight. I then, at their urging, I put the board down and stepped on it. My balance was wobbly, at first, but eventually I got a grasp of how to stay aloft. We spent the rest of that day and night getting in as much training as I could with the extreme gear.

I hit the ground enough times to figure out I needed more practice before I did anything more complex than fly in a straight line.

65

That morning, the ship set anchor just outside city limits. From what I could see, Casabana was a large port town protected by an old, bleached kasbah. While it looked free and prosperous on the outside, the odd turquoise hover unit scanning for threats in the sky made it clear that this place was Robotnik's property.

The Dire Wolves put out a wooden plank.

"This is as far as we can go, wolf brother."

"I don't know what to say. Thank you for the board, and for being good company."

Figment made a retching sound.

"Oh, shut up."

I snapped my fingers and made an illusion cage to carry him in while I went around town.

"When you have to go on the sand, use the board," Hector said. "Otherwise you'll be eaten by sandcrawlers."

Sand crawlers? I toyed around with the words in my head before coming to a decent guess. He can't possibly mean--

"They're giant worms," he clarified. "With teeth."

"Ah."

I got off the boat and clenched my teeth at the slight tremor from the sand.

"Well, it's time to go to the city and never enter the desert!" I said with too much cheer. I put the Machiste disguise back on, got a running start, and jumped on the board before anything could come out of the ground. "See you guys later!"

"Bye!" the Dire Wolves said back.

Figment squacked indignantly as I rode towards Casabana.

"No, no, and also: No! I can fight robots and pirates, but draw the line at graboids!"

- - -

Spoiler: Author Notes / Lore

We begin this chapter with a cameo from Aquatic Ruin Zone, which our overburdened protagonist must sadly ignore. He's got bigger bass to fry. Anyone who can decipher the image our SI is drawing earns themselves a cookie.

The Dire Wolves were inspired by Greek hoplites, Roman legionaries, and Waterworld. The idea to have their boards and shields be one and the same came to me during the scene where they land on the deck. I didn't want them to toss their boards or constantly zip around the ship, so I came up with shield gears.

My choice to use 'Casabana' was 'inspired' by Archie Sonic the Hedgehog #52, in which the characters are put through a bewildering and tone deaf adaptation of the classic film that actually happens because a magic flying dress suit teleports Sonic to the Casablanca zone. Remember, Robotnik died like two issues ago! What the heck are they doing in Casablanca?!

I have no answers. It just sorta happens and they gloss over it like it never happened.

 

[weredrago2]

Ruby Haze
Chapter 13: The Home Front Line

An ominous moon hung over Deerwood Forest, which was not quiet tonight. Not in so many years has the forest been a place at peace.

Tonight, the forest was screaming. The sky was awash with black, choking smoke and the buzz of saw blades. A graveyard of stumps and burning villages were all that was left in the wake of the tall, imposing SWATbots as they meticulously destroyed the ecosystem. Tree by tree, branch by branch. They hauled the logs into large hover trucks, pausing in their tireless efforts only to capture the fleeing village folk for the roboticizer in Snottingham. If not stopped, these police robots that were modified for clear cutting would deforest the whole of Mercia in no less than a month.

That was when the cavalry arrived. From atop the trees, a hail of arrows rained on the lumberjack SWATbots and their offroad vehicles, rendering the latter inoperable. The disruption forced the badniks to cease their operations, though only a fraction of those iron-tipped arrows struck true and took their foes down outright. That left scores more for the Mercian resistance to deal with themselves.

"Halt!" the SWATbot captain with a metal feather in its steel cap declared. The captain's synthesized voice, the same as countless other SWATbots across the globe, was donated by recordings from Robotnik himself. "Battle formations!"

The SWATbots took to action, their saws and log-sawing subroutines set aside in favor of their primary purpose: Riot suppression. Their wrist-mounted laser weapons fired in sequence at the shaded tree tops, melting the light snow off the evergreens and disabling a few of the slower rebels instantly. The rest scattered like a horde of vermin, presenting too many targets moving in too many directions for the badniks to hit their marks.

While the badniks scanned the forest for further signs of resistance, their audio receptors picked up a light 'twang' once the straps securing the logs to the trucks snapped open. They rolled free and loose, bowling squads of SWATbots to the ground. From the darkness, a singular mobian form emerged with their arrow nocked for another shot.

"Freedom fighter spotted!" the SWATbot captain declared. It ran around the logs and raised an arm to shoot the offender where he stood. "Fire at--!!"

The captain should have been more choosing with his words. Rob O' the Hedge fired his arrow, swift and true, striking the SWATbot cleanly through the thin, red line of his optical visor. Their leader was now offline.

The rest of the Crazy Kritters stood at his side. Friar Buck, Arthur Boar, David Dormouse, and Gilbert Woolhand. Behind them were the newest recruits, the cyborgs Presto and Cadence, along with a few new faces Rob had yet to become acquainted with. There was strength in numbers, to be certain, though Rob wished he had more time to familiarize himself with his new brothers-and-sisters-in-arms.

"Tally ho!" shouted Rob in a brave battle cry. "Crazy Kritters! To arms!"

The more experienced veterans led the charge with their swords, hacking at the downed SWATbots with their swords. The badniks' standard-issue plating was tough and dense, designed to shrug off far worse than anything that could be forged by a mere smith. Yet all of that engineering meant little in the face of a sturdy log cracking their armor open like a lobster shell. The rest was a matter of cutting their exposed wiring to ribbons.

Friar Buck, who took an oath of nonviolence as one of his many vows to the church, was content to step back and provide morale to those untempered rookies whose spirits might be wavering in the back line. The chaplain's calming presence kept their aim steady as the partisans pelted the remaining badniks with bolts and arrows.

"Keep the pressure on!" Rob said. "We shall send these mechanical varlets back to thine makers!"

While it took time to adjust to their new circumstances, the cybernetic bards well earned their place among the freedom fighters. Cadence the Butterfly flew over the battle with her jet wings, holding Presto the Grasshopper by the arms so he could deliver spring-loaded kicks to the SWATbots and knock them off their feet when she dove.

"We've got 'em on the ropes!" Arthur shouted as he cut down another SWATbot.

Gilbert stood at his side, taking more precise aim with his blade strokes.

"I'd advise tempering your enthusiasm!" he said to Arthur.

"Bah, poppycock! We're winnin', ain't we?"

They were. It was a pleasant change of pace from the acres of ground they've lost in the past few weeks. Sir Bruin's early warnings of the attacks could only do so much when the High Sheriff didn't stop sending wave after wave. Rob dodged the hail of laser beams from the remaining SWATbots and used his sword to break open the locks keeping the prisoners in their cages. The leader of the Crazy Kritters led them out, one at a time.

David's ears perked up, through and over his hood, and he stood in place.

"Do ye all hear that?" he asked the others. They shook their heads.

"Prittee, what do ye hear?" Rob asked. "Reinforcements?"

Were they too slow to prevent the robots from sending for help? The resistance fighters relied on hit-and-run raids to survive. If more robots were coming, they needed to expedite the second part of their strategy and make their leave. Otherwise, they risked all of the people they were trying to save.

David's ears adjusted themselves, like a natural radar.

"I couldst not say. It does not sound like a vehicle or marching soldiers."

As David pondered over the source of the noise, it was seconds later that they could all hear the sound of a rushing engine overhead. A large, black shadow loomed above the clearing on a pair of rocket thrusters. It was a mechanical woodsman in gold in silver that bore a large, double-bladed ax whose edges shone with a wicked gleam in the moonlight.

It was a super badnik. Bigger and badder than the rank-and-file. Smarter than they looked. A metal monstrosity that would be a suitable challenge for Sonic the Hedgehog himself. Or the wizard, John Scarlet.

Neither of which, of course, were here right now to deal with it.

"I doth suppose that be what ye heard?" Rob asked dryly.

"Blimey! I suppose it was."

The super badnik swung its weapon in a wide arc, chopping the tops off the trees and raining chunks of wood on the rebels!

"Take cover!"

The warning, whoever shouted it, was too little and too late. The freedom fighters were driven back into the woods for protection, and the villagers they were rescuing could only scarcely avoid being crushed. A couple of the SWATbots were less fortunate, vanishing beneath the heavy debris with a loud, definitive crunch.

"Look out!" Gilbert cried.

With a shove, he pushed Rob out of the way of a stray laser bolt that was discharged from a pulverized SWATbot limb.

"Gilbert!"

The shot went directly towards his hand, forcing him to drop his sword from the sudden shock to the extremity.

"I'll be fine!" Gilbert said with a pained grunt. He wrapped the fresh wound with his green cape. "Let us make haste and get out of here!"

They were in a full retreat. The metal lumberjack pursued them, cutting a swathe through Deerwood Forest as if it was made out of butter.

"We need to slow its advance!" Rob shouted as he fired a litany of arrows at the super badnik in vain. He thought he had an arrow for every occasion, but not one seemed to do the trick. No weakness to be exploited or chink in the armor.

"I've got it!" Presto said. He bounded towards the machine and set his legs on its arms at full force. Presto then went at full speed in the opposite direction. "Woah!"

Cadence dodged an ax swing and caught him before he could splatter against a tree.

"Careful, Presto!" she chided him. "The rest of us isn't made of metal!"

Rob turned towards Friar Buck, who was escorting the villagers out of harm's way.

"Friar Buck! How much time shall ye need?"

"However much time ye can provide," he said earnestly.

Rob felt around in his quiver for his last two arrows. He would need to fire the first before he could use the second with any reliability. The one that had an extra punch to it, if not the sort that ended in a padded fist. He would have to make them count.

In spite of its size, the robot was moving too fast for him to guarantee the initial arrow would hit the mark. He had little option but to fire it anyway and hope the Walkers -- blessed be their name -- would throw him a bone for once. Before he could take the shot, a hefty stone was tossed at the back of the super badnik's head. It stopped and turned around, twin jets of steam pouring out of its head.

"Over here!" Arthur shouted, a smaller rock in one hand. "That all it takes to get yer attention?"

"Arthur! Hath ye gone mad?!"

Arthur Boar ducked under the ax.

"I'm buying time!"

"Get out of there!"

The super badnik lifted its ax again, and Rob knew he would be too late to stop it. Arthur was less swift to avoid the blade this time, resulting in a long gash being sliced through the back of his thigh.

"ARGHH!"

Arthur Boar let out a coarse howl of pain, and Rob fired two arrows.

The first one was borne out of his early tutors' many failed attempts to teach him chemistry. A spark from the flint at the tip of the arrowhead ignited the magnesium powder attached to the arrow, releasing a blinding light in the super badnik's face. The second, a red-tipped TNT arrow, sailed cleanly past its head and hit its intended target with a loud boom. The machine's sensors were too disoriented by the sensory overload to navigate, or notice the others pulling Arthur away from the scene. By the time the robot could reorient itself, its body was already enveloped in the shadow of falling timber.

With a tremendous slam, the terrible woodsman was felled by a humble tree. The battle was won for the Mercian Freedom Fighters.

"Three cheers for Rob O' the Hedge!" one of the laymen exclaimed.

"Here here!" the crowd shouted.

Yet, as Rob led the wounded survivors away from the wreck of strewn badniks and machinery, he couldn't help but feel that the war was becoming too much for him to handle.

---

"The casualties?"

It was the first thing Rob asked Friar Buck the moment they each had a moment to spare. Rob from coordinating with the other resistance leaders in Mercia by their new radio devices, and Friar Buck from his work tending to the wounded. While it was always meant to function as a secret refuge from the Sheriff's machines, Hideaway was becoming more akin to a field hospital with every skirmish. The last days of autumn gave their home away from home an oppressively somber atmosphere.

The two of them sat at a wooden table in Rob's hut. Not a place one would recognize as the dwelling of a king, though Rob felt more at home among the trees than he did in any castle. As the cold was beginning to come in earnest, the Friar served an herbal tea of his own recipe meant to warm the heart and calm the distressed soul.

He had a feeling they would need a lot of tea for this one.

"Several men-at-arms were wounded in the SWATbots' opening salvo and the strike of the wood-cutting machine. We art doing thine best to heal the injured, but…"

They had no true chirurgeon at their disposal and, with their resources as strained as they were, it would be a miracle if Arthur walked or Gilbert held a bow again.

"Thou art doing the best ye can with what we have, Friar. That is all we can ask of ye." Rob opened his mouth, stopped to collect himself, and then asked the question he still had on his mind since last night. "Any deaths?"

"Nay. Bless the Walkers that we have not lost any more lives to this struggle."

"Aye. Bless them."

Rob thought himself the reverent, god-fearing sort of gentlefolk, but he was less certain of providence's hand in their lack of fatalities. The High Sheriff was once an Acorn general, by Sir Bruin's reckoning. He may well have been burdening them with injured soldiers by design. Forcing them to make the sadistic choice between spending time and resources ministering to their wounded or leaving them behind to fend for themselves.

Even in the privacy of his thoughts, Rob instantly felt guilty for using that word to refer to his own friends and countrymen. Burden. Did they not deserve better from their king than such a dismissive turn of phrase?

"A shilling for thine thoughts, Robert?"

"The calculus of war hangs heavy on my head," Rob said with a sigh. It had been on his mind for some time now. "I do not know if I am still the leader the people need. Or ever was."

Friar Buck gave his friend and liege a calm nod of understanding.

"Yours is a struggle many leaders come to when the dawn seems out of reach. Rest assured, I believe ye to be the best king Mercia could ask for in their time of need."

Rob wasn't entirely comfortable with being compared to his father like that. He knew that the former king was a harsh, but fair ruler. Definitely more seasoned. Though, knowing his father was set in his ways, rigid in sticking to past rulings and edicts in a way that bordered on stubbornness, he had to admit the Friar had a point.

Their relationship as father and son was complicated, to say the least.

"The best king? Mayhaps, but the best leader? There are times where I think I should cede more control of our forces to more experienced generals."

"Such as?"

"Lady Finella and Monsieur Chat have both proven themselves capable leaders of their own freedom fighter cells."

"That is true," Friar Buck conceded. "Though their methods, at times, leave much to be desired."

To put it more bluntly, they were too bloody-minded. Lady Finella still wore the robes of a widower as she cut down robians with her ancestral sword and fell into frightening berserker rages. Monsieur Chat is more restrained on the outside, but under that frigid personage is a furious, revanchist heart. Angry at many things.

Perhaps some of that fear and hatred would lose its bite if Chat was given the opportunity to be more open with herself? Friar Buck hoped so. He was the sort who liked to believe there was hope for everyone, no matter how far they strayed off the path to inner peace.

"You are right again, old friend."

"And Sir Bruin, though a great boon to our cause, is unreliable due to circumstances out of anyone's control. If his status as a spy were ever to be uncovered by the Sheriff…"

"Aye. It is for good cause that we keep our flow of information as one-sided as we can."

They pondered over the turbulent state of affairs for a moment of blessed silence. At least, until Amy barged into the hut with stacks of gauze in her arms.

"Is this the medical hut?" she shouted over the gauze covering her face.

Rob pulled the gauze off his young cousin's face.

"Sorry, Amy. You'll want the hut further down that way."

"Ohh. Thanks, Rob!"

"Thank you for helping tend to the wounded," he said.

"I'm doing my part!" she exclaimed as she jogged in the pointed direction. "As a FREEDOM FIGHTER!"

A small smile formed on Rob's face. He couldn't help it.

"What of John Scarlet?" he then asked Friar Buck. "He is not a brilliant strategist by his own words, yet he has pulled off feats I would have considered impossible before."

Friar Buck tensed up slightly, but Rob was too distressed to take notice. Now, that would be a risky proposition…

---

"Do you do confessionals?"

Friar Buck stood from his records to take notice of John Scarlet. He was not well-versed in overlander anatomy, but it was clear to anyone who cared to see the signs that the man was ill at ease. His skin had long settled into an unhealthy pallor. He had only lost weight since he first arrived in Eurish. A pair of restless, glowing eyes, twin lanterns as red as rubies, scoured the darkness in search of an answer. Any answer at all.

Putting that overwhelming evidence aside, it was the witching hour. Far past the time anyone with good sense should be awake. An opinion that was a tad hypocritical, the Friar knew, given that he was staying up late updating a kingdom's worth of records.

"What troubles your mind?" Friar Buck asked earnestly, though he suspected that would come off as a loaded question.

Not wanting to disrupt the scrolls set on the available seating, John made a chair out of naught but pure aether and sat at it in reverse.

"That ah, depends on whether you can keep a secret."

Friar Buck frowned, concerned for what this was about more than anything else. It was not uncommon for mobians from all walks of life to come to him in times of doubt, but the penitent having to double-check whether or not they could be reported for what they were about to say was rarely a good way a confession started.

"I am forbidden to reveal anything a penitent confesses to me."

"Oh. Uh. Good."

The overlander said nothing for a few seconds, then it all came out at once.

"I have no idea what I'm doing."

"Beg pardon--?"

"I've been making up the wizard thing as I went along. The magic's real. I just don't know how to control it. "

Friar Buck, to his credit, kept his composure throughout this very distressing revelation. With a gesture, John took off his gauntlet, pushed the pair of power rings down his sleeve, and pulled away the black skein of his body suit. The red stone inlay went much deeper than Friar Buck imagined, digging deep into his flesh like a monstrous leech or lesion.

"The Phantom Ruby is the source of my power. I know the name of it because it, ah, told me? And I've been getting the hang of the different things I can do with it. But I don't know everything it's been doing to me and that scares me."

"I see," Friar Buck said. "Should we start at the beginning?"

"I figure it began when I woke up in space."

That was just the beginning of what would become a very long confessional.

---

"Friar Buck?"

Friar Buck poured another cup of nerve-steeling tea. He would have to make a separate pot for himself later, with the last ingredient included, once his duties for the evening were properly attended to.

"Mister Scarlet is an overlander of many surprises," the Friar replied neutrally. "However, it would be quite difficult for him to maintain the kingdom's confidence on his own."

"As he hails from the Overland. Of course. Even in times such as these, old wounds linger."

"Indeed," Friar Buck replied. Though, given what he had heard, he wasn't certain John Scarlet came from the Overland anymore.

Rob O' the Hedge stood up and stretched.

"So I really am the best hope we have, eh?" Rob asked, letting his accent slip out of sheer exhaustion. There was no one else around to catch him anyway. "In that case, I shall endeavor to do what I can without any more whinging or moping."

"It is no sin to have these doubts, Robert."

"Then why do I feel wrong for having them?"

Rob checked the window. The sun was not wholly visible between the trees, especially at this time of year, but it was at its highest point in the sky. Break time was over.

"Duty calls?"

"Yeah. I've gotta--" Rob cleared his throat. "I am overdue for leading the next patrol at yon forest's edge. The enemy does not rest on their laurels, and neither must I."

"Good hunting, Rob O' the Hedge."

Rob descended down a rope that had been put there for descent at a rapid pace.

"Verily! I shall return anon!"

Rob O' the Hedge would keep fighting. Holding the line from tyranny. As the king, he could do no less.

Though he hoped John would return soon with what they needed to brave the winter.

---

Spoiler: Author Notes / Lore

I believe 'super badnik' is a loanword from the post-reboot continuity. It typically refers to those jumbo badniks and mini bosses that take a few heroes working together to beat. It also applies to specially-designed bots like the E-Series and Metal Sonic. Classic fans should recognize the one in this chapter as Hey Ho/Hei Hou from Sonic & Knuckles.

~He's a lumberjack, and he's okay! He works all night and he works all day!

The next chapter should return to our regularly-scheduled protagonist. Depending on how people felt about this special chapter, there might be more like it in the future.

 

[weredrago2]

I've made a gallery of the different art I've gotten for this fic here. A couple of examples are below.

https://drive.google.com/drive/u/0/folders/1qdOgb1vt5_jprDBRJZUdZCgr7k_k2XyT

John Scarlet

Figment

Chat and Fifi

 

[weredrago2]

Ruby Haze
Chapter 14: Shop the Kasbah

1. In the beginning, there was Chaos.
2. Mobius was without form, and full of fury.
3. The Ancient Walkers observed the Chaos as it shaped the world.
4. From the Chaos came the elements of fire, water, earth, and air.
5. The Ancient Walkers exist to unify the Chaos.

"More coffee, sir?" the periwinkle gazelle waitress asked as she passed my table.

I set down the Tome of the Ancient Walkers, a copy of which was granted to me by Friar Buck as reading material for my journey. It was an aged book with a three-toed, reptilian foot on the cover, and here I thought the Mercian fleur-de-lis had the same origin as the French one. The prose was thick enough to stop a bullet, but I powered through it so I could better understand the beliefs of the people I was working with.

Or, to be a bit more honest with myself, the people I was friends with. I didn't think I would have gone this far if they were still strangers to me. Or gotten this far without somebody I could talk to about my problems. If I couldn't call them friends at this point, who could I?

"Yes, please," I replied.

She refilled my earthenware cup, pouring hot, sweetened coffee over ice cubes and a lemon slice. The cup that was currently being used by Machiste the Lion. There was a decent chance that they'd still take my money if I was an Overlander, but I wasn't going to take any risks of showing my real face until I met the spy Princess Sally sent to do the handoff for the Neuro-Overrider chip.

"Thank you."

Besides, mobians demonstrably treated me better when they thought I was one of them. Another face in the crowd who tipped a bit better than the rest. One lion out of the countless felines that made up a lion's share of the Leonus population.

I took a long sip. I've never had mazagran before, though as an iced coffee, I couldn't complain. The iced coffee tasted distinctly like coffee, something that I thought I'd never drink again. On the contrary, I was inundated with the smell of roasted beans throughout the market stalls of the city.

Besides the cats, the rest of the Leonus population were other animals that could be found across Southern Eurish and Sub-Saharan Efrika. Dogs, mice, deer, zebras, birds, and a few species I couldn't place. The reason they were here was that Robotnik's only concerns in Leonus were their resources. Iron and carbon for steel. Precious metals for circuit boards. Crude oil for fuel. The infrastructure for it to be a tributary was already set in place by the Overland during the Great War, so why complicate things if no one was resisting? To the people of Leonus, the change in regimes changed little for their status quo.

I wasn't privy to the details, but the result of whatever bargain King Leonus struck with Robotnik was that the royal family remains where they are and his kingdom is "spared" any direct predations by the Empire. SWATbots and hover pods were an infrequent sight in the country, concerned only with keeping the roads open for material shipments. Acts of resistance were rare and fleeting. The Dire Wolves warned me that the region had issues with roving gangs who would attack convoys, though the ones crazy enough to try their luck against a badnik escort were a dying breed. No points for guessing what was killing them.

For a brief, fleeting moment, I thought seeing a city full of living, breathing people not under immediate threat of the badnik jackboot would put me at ease. A few days in Casabana were enough to prove me wrong, as nearly everyone I passed in the city was suffering.

The concept of a "safe" anywhere in the Robotnik Empire was so tantalizing that it attracted desperate mobians in droves. Many of them were exhausted, dirty, and disheveled. As if they'd walked twice as far as the distance I sailed to get here. Among them were the ailing and injured, who were left untreated outside of using crutches and covering infected areas in bandages. Few children on the street had been spared the shaken, haggard expressions that the adults bore. Fewer still walked or ran around the narrow streets of the medina with any parents to supervise them. Casabana had flesh-and-blood guards to enforce order, but they were more concerned with discouraging theft and scaring vagrants off the streets than anything close to justice.

My heart ached at the sight of it. Things in Hideaway were rough, but everyone got food and medical aid when it was available. Money was hardly a concern in the face of constant danger and a mutual struggle. I quietly gave alms to any beggars who approached me, but what else was I supposed to do? Punch poverty? I couldn't do much more than small acts of kindness without drawing further attention to myself. If I was discovered by the wrong people and was forced to go loud now, the agent from Knothole would get spooked, I wouldn't get the Neuro-Overrider, and our robian spy would eventually turn back into a Robotnik loyalist. Mercia falls because I couldn't keep my cover.

That was why I was here, in Ricky's Café Northaméricain, in spite of the name making me want to crawl out of my skin. It was quiet, for a bar with a casino and live band. After the exchange for the chips was done, I could meet back with the fixer Knothole was "pretty sure" wouldn't stab me in the back and seal the deal on the rest of things we needed to turn the situation in Eurish around. Then when Mercia was liberated from the High Sheriff, I could go back to worrying about what was going on in Leonus.

Figment chirped. I shifted to check that he was still in the illusory cage I made for him under the table. Slight spot fixes to his coloration made him indistinguishable from what he used to look like.

"Need something?"

He looked into my eyes. I received a flash of rapid images. The sick and hurt, begging for money and medicine. My hand raised to heal his wings and eye, from Figment's perspective. The images were arranged in such a way as to suggest I try the same thing on all of them, with a dash of confusion as to why I hadn't gone ahead and done it already.

"You think I haven't thought of that?" I hissed in annoyance.

I shot a few pointed images back at Figment. Regardless of the intent to heal, I split wounds open and kill my patients from shock. Their mangled limbs reshape into monstrous, alien appendages, because I'm not a doctor and the Phantom Ruby isn't a medical device. I raise my hand to "end their suffering", and what pours out is a stream of crimson fire.

Mobini are smarter than the animals back home, and Figment was smarter than the average flicky. The cocky bird sobered up once he realized the only reason we were having this psychic conversation is because I got lucky and didn't have to force a wounded animal through extra layers of torture before putting it out of its misery with a shovel.

"Look, I'm sorry for snapping at you." I sliced off a strip of mechoui from my plate and slid it to Figment through the bars. As it turned out, they did serve food here if you asked with a stack of gems in your hands. "Just wish I could do more right now, that's all."

He tilted his head at an angle, pondering my words. I sat back up when I observed a gray ram with black, curly hair and a short beard enter Ricky's. He wore a hooded cloak with a small, acorn-shaped brooch.

"Cripes, really?" I muttered.

Some spy. The only reason he wasn't wearing his allegiance on his sleeve was that it was already pinned on his chest. It's a wonder they didn't have me show up as a blue hedgehog instead of a lion. The ram glanced around the bar until he eventually locked eyes with me. His were hazel, while mine were a ruby red that had to be suppressed if I didn't want them to shine through the glamour. He walked up to me.

"Are you Maciste?" he asked. The ram's voice was deep. At a guess, he sounded about my age or a few years older.

"I am."

"I'm here to speak to Mister Scarlet. Can you take me to him?"

"Yes." I stood up. "He's waiting for you in one of the reserved rooms."

I gestured to get the attention of the waitress from earlier. With a whisper and a few more coins exchanged, we were given the key to a private room that would do for our meeting. No visible cameras or listening devices, and I didn't take this place for the kind that would spring for anything more expensive than that.

The ram sat across from me at a round table shuffled in for our benefit.

"Apologies for not taking off my hood earlier," he said. "There's a good chance the SWATbots have my face recorded in their memory banks."

While he lowered his hood, I slowly unwound the illusion of Maciste the Lion. It flaked off in smoldering pieces, rather than all at once, as though the spell was a costume I was wearing, or a second skin to be shed. My body was left feeling like I had untensed all of my muscles at once after the process was complete. I then sat down next to him, one hand held out.

"Let's try this again. I'm John Scarlet."

The ram gave me a look-over, visibly perturbed by my transformation. His eyes lingered on the Phantom Ruby, which lay in a metal gauntlet secured by a pair of power ring bracelets. With my use of the Phantom Ruby reserved to keep up the disguise, the faint glow that was spreading down my wrist began to recede. Perturbed or not, he did shake my hand.

"My name is Ari." It wasn't a name I recognized off the top of my head. "On the behalf of the Kingdom of Acorn, I'd like to welcome you as the first overlander to join the fight."

I frowned.

"First? I didn't know. Out of how many…"

I trailed off, because it occurred to me that I didn't know how many humans were still around after the Great War. Ari misinterpreted the gap in my knowledge as exasperation.

"Out of the millions of overlanders, you are the first I know of that's taken up the cause. We've tried to send missives to MegaCentral, the Overland city north of Robotropolis, but we don't even know if their people are aware of what's going on beyond their borders."

Millions. That can't be all that's left. Can it?

"That's… disappointing." I changed the subject. "Did you bring the chip?"

Ari nodded. He pulled out a drawstring pouch that reminded me of the Crown Royal bag I used for dice. He carefully pulled out what looked like a white poker chip. I took the chip and scrutinized it. The thin lines and dots of a circuit board decorated the surface.

"How does it work?" I asked.

"The device has a small magnet. Attach it anywhere on the robian's head, and the chip should do the rest."

"Should? Please explain."

"Rotor made the first model so that anyone who was roboticized could go through the process and keep their free will. As Barbe Vis--"

"Sir Bruin," I softly corrected.

"As Sir Bruin was roboticized over a decade before the brain-burn-thru patch or the other firmware updates, this custom chip should be able to piggyback off the energy of the power rings and return his free will to him."

"That's… less than I was hoping for, but it'll have to do."

The way Rob O' the Hedge put it, the device sounded like a miracle cure. It looked like we were still a long way off from one of those.

I pulled a spare bag out of Null Space. The contents of the bag were wrapped up in dark cloth to mute out the intense shine they gave off when grouped together. I handed the bag to Ari, and let him take a few seconds to inspect it.

"Are those what I think they are?" he asked.

"If you think you can smuggle a few rings out of Leonus without being caught, you're welcome to take a few back to the freedom fighters as a gift. I'm sure they can find a use for them."

He covered the power rings and put them back in the sack.

"Thank you. I'll have to pass through Armada territory, but I'll get these to Knothole as soon as I can."

"What's the Armada?"

"The Battle Bird Armada. They're one of Robotnik's allies, a traveling militant group that's currently hovering around Central Efrika."

If the Armada were what I'd otherwise call the Battle Kukkus, I'd need to keep an eye out for them.

"Good to know. Anything else I need to clear up with you?"

"No. We had to meet in person to make sure the chip wasn't intercepted, but future messages will be sent to Hideaway by Dove."

"Works for me."

I started towards the exit.

"One last thing."

I stopped, and turned around to see what Ari had saved as a final surprise.

"As I'm sure Rob O' the Hedge has already let you know, the Kingdom of Acorn has disavowed the usage of firearms many years ago."

I raised an eyebrow. They knew to meet me in Leonus, where I was going to meet an arms dealer they vetted to sell me items to assist in the war effort. Heck, I had a new semi-automatic pistol strapped to my belt as we were speaking. It wasn't difficult to get my hands on one in the market, even if I was bewildered by it being identical to a Colt 1911.

One of the most recognizable guns on Earth. What was it doing for sale on a rack next to sci-fi laser blasters and a handful of homemade bolt-action rifles?

"I'm aware." I was trying to find a polite way to say that it was their hangup and not mine. "Will this become an issue?"

"Personally? I don't have a problem with it. Our kingdom has cleaned our hands of those kinds of weapons, but I can't say I blame you or the Mercians for using whatever you need in order to protect yourselves from Robotnik."

"What about the other freedom fighters? Will they make an issue of it?"

"Rotor has made dangerous weapons for the others before, and Princess Sally didn't object at the time. If the Rebel Underground knows what you're arming the Mercian rebels with, they're content to turn a blind eye for now."

For now. That was a rather vague answer. What were they waiting for me to do that would make it not okay anymore?

"Right. I'll do what I can on my end, and you do what you can on yours."

"Good luck, John Scarlet."

I focused, reapplied my disguise, and walked out of the room.

♦ 60

"You too."

He seemed like an alright guy. Now all that was left was for me to deal with someone who was anything but.

- - -

With the chip secured, I took off from Casabana at cruising speed on my extreme gear, the Red Chimera. Figment kept pace, the two of us leaving a pair of magenta light trails as we sailed across the sand. The internal mechanisms of the board were not unlike a ramjet: Once you had a running start, the air-breathing engine did the rest. It saved me a lot of energy that would otherwise be devoted to flying myself.

The arid sea of sand beyond Casabana was all-encompassing. If I didn't already know where I was going, my only landmarks would have been the inland oil refineries. Endless rows of pumpjacks drew countless gallons of black gold from the ground, moving in sync with colossal drills boring into the sand and unidentifiable machinery that blighted the sky with smog. Colossal tanks with Robotnik's face on them were a common sight as I went, the scale of extractraction being performed here nearly paralyzing to witness.

The largest oil facilities on Earth could crank out only a million or so barrels of crude a day. These sprawling facilities had to have dwarfed them.

I hit the booster with my foot, kicking the Red Chimera into top speed. I slowed down only to avoid dust devils and hover pods, the latter of which got scarcer as I rode further on into the desert. Once we were far, far away from Robotnik's pervasive piping, I pulled out the clamshell communication device the fixer gave me. Though it looked more like a metal hand mirror than the proper satellite phone I got from Hector, it'll have to do.

I dialed the one contact and made the call. To his credit, he answered on the first ring.

"Wes Weasley speaking!"

One of the lights on the device blinked on, revealing a hologram projector. The mobian that appeared on the device was a brown mustelid in a yellow tweed suit and fedora. The hologram itself was restricted to a grainy, bluish image, but my brain filled in the gaps. He wore large, rounded glasses and a perpetual grin that went as far as it needed in order to secure a sale. His apparel and demeanor invoked the image of a classic door-to-door salesman, while his product catalog could arm an insurrection. Which, while dubious in terms of moral footing, was exactly what I needed.

"It's Maciste. Can you hear me?"

"Maciste, palsy! You're coming in loud and clear! How can I help you on this fine, wonderful morning?"

Wes Weasley verbally glad-handed me over the line while gesticulating wildly on the hologram. I recognized his Top Cat-esque tone and mannerisms from one of the cartoons, granting me a small amount of experience to lean on for talking to him. Not that I needed a ton of prior knowledge to figure out Wes Weasley's shtick.

"Mister Weasley, I--"

"Oh, please! All of my friends call me Wes!"

I declined to address a guy who'd have sold me to Robotnik for two mobiums on a first-name basis. The reason he can't is that he was caught selling to both sides and forced to pick ours. In a move the freedom fighters should have seen coming, he opted to move his operations out of Robotnik's direct crosshairs and became one of the top black market dealers in Efrika. His racket back in Northamer was taken over by a hare named Downtown. No longer directly aiding either side of the war for Mobius, Wes Weasley was content to rake in the cash from its festering criminal underworld. A scenario much nastier than the cartoons presented.

Trusting him beyond appealing to his greed was a bad idea. Simple as that. After a pause, I picked up where I left off.

"I'm calling to confirm the status of my order."

The deal was simple. I put out a bounty on any and all military hardware that was left "unaccounted for" following the end of the Great War and the rapid collapse of the Overland as a political entity. All of those weapons and armor may have fallen into private hands or rotted in abandoned army depots over the years, but I was putting a lot of money down on the hunch that Robotnik didn't care about this continent enough to check. The bandit gangs he was ignoring had to get their equipment from somewhere.

Half the contract was finding them. For every gun or vehicle Wes Weasley could restore to working order, I'd buy them. If I liked how these refurbished products performed, I'd go back to him to buy more. A few days after making that arrangement, he rather enthusiastically informed me that he would have no issues supplying my demand. The guy offered me a cigar and everything. Given the surprised look of his hyena hirelings, I'd introduced him an opportunity for profit he couldn't refuse.

"All of your items have been tested and accounted for, my good sir! After you deliver the payment, we can discuss who you'd like to hire from our expansive contact network for some temp work."

It nearly slipped my mind that I still needed to hire mercenaries to train the Mercians how to use all of this new kit. I could drive a car perfectly fine -- ignore anyone who says otherwise -- but I've only held a real gun once before my recent practice with the new pistol. Any merc wary of high-risk jobs would look at training the rebels and see a cozy gig where they'd never see a fraction of action unless something went awry. The ones who lacked the patience for that were welcome to earn their pay in a more direct fashion.

"Then you wouldn't mind if I pick them up today?"

"Not at all! When should I be expecting you to visit?"

I didn't think of myself as a gullible person. Definitely was a sucker when I was younger, but these days, I could shut down an annoying telemarketer when the need arose. On the other hand, I wasn't arrogant enough to think I had the chutzpah to wrap the swindler who outplayed everyone else around my finger. Instead, I'd have to keep him off balance.

"I'm a few minutes out."

"That close?" Wes Weasley repeated. His eyes widened. "As in, you're heading this way right now?"

Keeping my heading and following the map coordinates in the communicator, I made my way to where Wes Weasley has most recently been conducting his business. Figment split off from me, becoming a blurry shadow in the heated air. He'd be my eyes and ears in case it looked like this deal was about to go south.

"Will that be an issue?" I inquired.

"Ah, not one bit! We were just scrubbing off the last of any pesky identifying logos and serial numbers. Stop by whenever you like."

"I am. See you outside."

I closed the hologram phone. I didn't like the way he sounded near the end. At least the end destination, a derelict military base surrounded by tall sand dunes and rusty barbed wire, was dead ahead. Stacks of sandbags and rubble were built up to support the fence with the semblance of a defensive wall.

I hit the brakes and dismounted my board. The layman would assume this place was abandoned and left to rot since the Overlanders retreated west, but there was a pair of armed Mad Max cosplayers at the gate. They were two, tired-looking hyenas. One with spots, and one with stripes. Spots and Stripes became alert as I walked towards them.

"State your name and business!" Spots barked.

The guards were armed with battered and beaten SMGs that hopefully didn't reflect on the quality of what I was buying.

"My name is Maciste, and I am here to pick up some equipment I've purchased from your boss," I said slowly.

Stripes picked up his walkie-talkie while Spots kept his gun on me.

"Hey boss, we got a lion here who--"

The reply was instantaneous, the bulky handheld nearly jumping out of Stripes' hand from how loud Wes Weasley was shouting.

"Would you nincompoops let him in already?! Maciste is a VALUED CUSTOMER!"

The hyenas lowered their weapons and were swift to get the automated gate open for me. Once I was in the base, I could see Wes Weasley driving up to me on a desert beige motorcycle with a faded emblem of an upside-down triangle in a circle on one side.

"Maciste!" he called out to me. "Like what you see?"

I smiled. Extreme gear was fast, if you could hold on and keep the contents of your stomach where they belong, but a half dozen of these would make a huge difference.

"Got any more in the back?"

Wes Weasley led me to one of the large hangars that had yet to collapse, one of a few sources of shelter out here from the blistering sun. Inside, I could see Wes Weasley's mechanics putting the finishing touches on an entire fleet of American ground vehicles.

"Take a look around," Wes Weasley offered with a gesture. He got off the bike to follow me as I did so.

There were more of those scouting and reconnaissance bikes, of which there were several being repainted in forest green camouflage. Beside them were several boxy, tracked APCs and armored trucks whose parts were in a variety of colors. Like the pistol, they were dead ringers for military equipment from Earth that should not be here.

"How did you find all of this?" I asked in shock.

"There's a booming aftermarket for Overland parts." Weasley said with glee. "It's a shame they aren't exporting these days, but the Nasty Hyenas and Bear Pack have been scavenging from these bases and Robotnik's scrap yards for years! I figured, if you put all of those pieces back together, you'll have enough parts to get you where you're going!"

Are these from G.U.N.? Is the Overland the United Federation? None of these details were adding up!

I was ecstatic to have these in my corner now, but at the same time I was frustrated by the lack of answers. I crouched down to investigate the cars and APCs closer. Figment tilted his head to the side. It triggered a slight twitch that I felt on my own neck.

"Then these are members of the Nasty Hyenas?"

Wes Weasley's smile became a bit more strained. He leaned in close to whisper.

"This pack of mooks is on the outs with Cannibal Queen Petra," he said conspiratorially. "It's a sensitive subject."

"Say no more," I said in such a way as to imply I understood any of that. Or that I simply wanted him to stop talking.

I stood up. Figment took off, gliding over the base as a hazy mirage. Wes Weasley patted me on the back before leading me away from the vehicles.

"But enough about that! How's about I show you some of the premium, refurbished weapons we have in stock for your freedom-fighting purposes?"

"That would be--"

I felt a set of claws wrap tightly across Figment's neck, yanking him out of the sky! His vision was covered by a red, sharpened glove, and the two hands held him in place no matter how hard he struggled to resist.

My heart started to accelerate.

"What's the matter?" Wes Weasley asked in faux concern. "If you need to set up a payment plan, we can negotiate ten easy installments of--"

The walkie-talkie on Wes Weasley's belt popped off with a message from the doormen.

"Boss, your other visitors are here!"

I spun towards the fixer, faster than I intended to.

"Visitors?" I asked in a stern, forceful tone. A hint of a lion's roar slipped its way into Maciste's dialogue. "You brought other visitors to an arms deal?"

The hyenas stopped working on the vehicles, and Weasley took a step away from me.

"Now, now, Machiste! It isn't what it looks like!"

"Are you sure?" I asked with a clenched fist and fangs bared. I could get away from this with my powers, sure, but I needed answers on where in this chain of events I was found out. The best way to do that would be to confront Weasley with an angry lion. "It sounds a lot like you're setting me up for a trap!"

He raised his hands in surrender, fearful of any physical harm that he might have coming. I stayed my hand, though the hyenas didn't seem all too concerned their employer might be moments from being torn in half.

"Relax, Maciste! They're the mercenaries you're hiring!"

"I didn't say who I was hiring!" I growled back.

"And I can respect wanting to be thorough with your selection, but these people were very eager to meet you! I put them at the top of my recommendation list, but they insisted on meeting you in person!"

"We did," a new voice called out from the other side of the hangar. "We threatened him into compliance. You should've done the same."

I turned around, and could make out four individuals past the sun's glare. A brown wildcat with blue gloves and boots, a manic green frog in an aviator's uniform, a large gorilla in a military-esque helmet and trousers, and a blue bird of prey with Figment in his claws. The ape stepped forward to address me again.

"Our master wishes to test your attributes," he said in a deep baritone. "Step forward so we may determine your worth."

My mind reeled. The next thing I did was, in hindsight, not very diplomatic. I was at the end of my wits, and did not need another stupid thing thrown at me.

I stepped forward, dropped my disguise, and unloaded my pistol into Magilla Guerilla.

- - -

Spoiler: Author Notes / Lore

Ari the Ram and Wes Weasley both hail from the cartoons. Ari is from SatAM, and Wes Weasley is from AoSTH. Ari is on the plain side, but I find Wes Weasley far more interesting. If you're familiar with older shows and films, you might recognize Wes as a blatant ripoff of the famous "King of Chutzpah", Phil Silvers. One of his most famous performances was as Master Sergeant Ernest G. Bilko on The Phil Silvers Show. In addition to Wes Weasley, this fast-talking con man character also inspired Top Cat.

The appearance of a few real world weapons and vehicles, while a bit jarring, was meant to feel more jarring to the SI than the reader. Not incidentally, these are all specific references to military equipment that has shown up in different hands throughout the franchise. Most of them ended up in Shadow the Hedgehog's hands. He's a busy guy like that. In the Shadow the Hedgehog game, Maria was shot with the classic 1911! This is censored to a laser gun that "zorches" her like it's Chex Quest.

 

[weredrago2]

Ruby Haze
Chapter 15: Ring Elimination

The bangs of the pistol being fired multiple times echoed loudly in the hangar. You can't really appreciate how loud a gun is until you fire one enough times to cause permanent hearing damage. 'Permanent' damage that unwound itself as I turned invisible and left an identical copy in my place. I had to get closer if I was ever going to pry Figment out of the blue bird's hands.

♦ 58

The gorilla took to being shot better than I expected, the dented rounds dropping to the floor after inflicting minor bruises on his chest. He and the rest of his gang seemed unperturbed by my attack. The wildcat with blue boots and gloves winced slightly at the loud noise, but other than that? Nothing.

"Are you done?" the ape called out to my double.

His face was locked into a frown, looking even more nonplussed than before. Was he angry I attacked, or disappointed I failed?

"Who are you?" I asked, throwing my voice across the room.

"You have other things to worry about than our names," the hawk holding Figment said. "Now come outside and accept our challenge, or your little friend becomes my prey."

Figment glared at the larger bird with hateful eyes, struggling to get out of his grasp but coming up short. The frog cackled, eyes and grin uncomfortably wide, his head tilted at a similarly eye-watering angle.

"Prey-stray-play!" the frog chanted in a sing-song tone. "Won't you pla~y with us?"

What a bunch of freaks. I raised my fists, channeling power through them.

"Not interested. Let the bird go."

I wasn't confident I could take them out in one attack without hurting Figment. Could I run a portal over the bird man's arms and yank Figment free on the other side? My regular senses weren't telling me much, so, following a strange spike of heat from the Phantom Ruby, I examined them deeply with my sixth sense.

Unexpectedly, Wes Weasley walked between us. He was fearful, by the tone in his voice, but his self-preservation was outweighed by profit motive.

"Gentlemen, gentlemen! Are we not civilized mobians?"

My extrasensory perception was suddenly awash in the intense glow the four strangers exuded. I was used to people giving off faint pinpricks of 'heat' I could filter out, but something inside these weirdos made them glow like the dense electrical batteries powering Robotnik's super badniks. Or power rings. For that reason, I had to assume Wes Weasley looked at me and realized I didn't fit into the 'civilized mobians' category.

"…Or other perfectly fine examples of civilized life? We don't need to solve all of our problems with violence, do we? Not in a hangar full of all of my products?"

"My products," I chastised. "Don't go anywhere with them while I deal with these bozos."

"Whatever you say!" Wes shouted as he jumped behind a blue Humvee. The rest of his hirelings took the memo to take cover.

Each of the strangers' auras varied slightly, though they all had one thing in common. Emblazoned on each of their foreheads was an invisible, green diamond. The more I tried to scrutinize the strange sigil, the more evasive it became.

What the hell am I looking at?

The brown cat moved his head back and forth, seemingly the slowest to shake off the noise from the gun. Sensitive hearing? My illusion body walked closer to the group, and I had him crack my knuckles to present an air of confidence.

"Look, if you want to take this outside, I'm--"

The cat lunged into the air like a bolt of lightning, ignoring the illusion and heading straight towards me! I only had moments to raise up a shield and dampen the blow, but the flying kick was enough to launch me into a display rack.

♦ 54

"I was expecting more from our target than that," the wildcat declared as he rejoined his group. He moved faster than I'd ever seen a mobian move. Or anything else with a pulse. Was he as fast as Sonic? "A disappointment."

I emerged from a pile of bicycles dazed, confused, and with a wheel around my neck. Figment let out an angry tweet at his handler. My ears were ringing, but I could still hear through his.

"Move on to Plan B," the ape ordered. "Lynx, finish him off."

The lynx pulled out a knife. Not a combat knife or medieval dagger. He had a ninja kunai. I wanted to go in hard before he used it, but I couldn't do anything until they let Figment go. The magenta flicky started retching, a bit of spittle and something white hanging out of his beak. Figment sent me a simple diagram of what he was about to do.

Clever bird.

"This whelp is ill," the hawk said in disgust. He raised a talon towards Figment's eye. "If its owner isn't worth our time, then can I put it out of its misery?"

"Don't you dare!" I shouted.

I stood myself upright with flight and tore the wheel off my neck. My armor was on.

"If you must," the gorilla said dryly.

I summoned a matching pair of giant, crystal projections appearing above them. The hawk took his eyes off of Figment long enough for the flicky's beak to tighten around the large fish bone he coughed up and jab it into the hawk's hand.

"OW!"

The hawk let go of Figment with a yowl of pain, allowing my familiar to get loose and fly out of the danger zone. My crystal hands spread wide enough to reach both ends of the hangar entrance and moved straight ahead. It'd hit them like a gentle shove from a freight train.

♦ 50

The force of the palm strikes kicked up a gust of wind, throwing tools and other unattended items throughout the hangar. They stopped outside in a jarring halt, being held in place by the gorilla's own arms. He was strong. Far stronger than I was expecting. The phantom hands that could budge a tank only shifted him back a few inches at the most.

I rocketed towards where my hand projections stopped, pushing them the rest of the way shut into an all-encompassing crystal shell around the gorilla manually. He was stronger than me. The one thing he didn't have was leverage. The barrier clasped shut, sealing him in place. His heavy punches left cracks in the surface of the magenta prism, telling me I didn't have long before he was loose again.

♦ 48

I thought of drawing Morglay, and the traitor's sword appeared in my hands.

"Who's next?"

I glanced around, trying to find where the other three went. Stacks of oil drums and refuse scrap metal littered the deserted base. The lynx was on the ground, kiting around my midair position. Above me, the angry hawk was chasing Figment, who kept his distance and played evasive to avoid being eviscerated. I was about to shoot the hawk down with a hail of arrows and crossbow bolts when a thick, slimy tongue wrapped itself around my leg.

"What the--"

The crazy frog whipped his tongue down, forcing me back to the ground as the lynx came from behind and delivered a series of rapid-fire kicks to my back. This time, I planted my feet and held my ground. A row of long crystal spikes crawling down my legs were enough to discourage the frog from doing that trick again, leaving him to watch and laugh as I took on his much faster friend.

"Hee hee hee!"

♦ 44

I made a series of exploratory swipes to try and bait the lynx into giving me an opening. All of them were misses, as I couldn't move my body fast enough to keep up with his.

"You flail like a child," the lynx said between lackadaisical dodges of Morglay's lethal edge.

I trusted my arm to reach for his tail or ears. He was right in front of me one moment, then darted away before I could grab him the next. If I didn't think he was a ninja before, my doubts were banished.

"Illusions are meaningless to me! I could hear your heartbeat a mile away!"

One thing he certainly wasn't was humble. I kept the flat of my blade level, sticking out in plain view. Since he telegraphed so boldly that he couldn't see through them, I made an illusion of my head looking around to prepare for the stray cat's next strut.

"I'm sick of you dancing around!" I called out to him. "Hold still!"

The lynx silently landed on my blade once my 'head' was turned in the other direction. Sucker.

He got one syllable into another insult when I made Morglay vanish from under him and played the illusory buzz of a deforesting machine between his ears. Before the dazed feline could hit the ground, I punted him into a car on cinder blocks with a hard steel boot.

♦ 42

One down. Three to go. I flung a handful of projectiles at the hawk to keep him off my Figment's tail. My familiar flew close to me for cover.

"Head to that armory the weasel mentioned," I ordered Figment. He gave me a short nod and took off. The ape's massive fists punched a hole through the crystal shell.

"Wear him down!" he commanded the others.

My suppressive fire was cut short by the frog tossing a steel barrel at me with that twisting tongue of his.

"See if you can catch-fetch-wretch this one for size!"

I opened a portal in front of the oncoming barrel, the other end of it facing right back at the frog. He took off on unfurled flaps of skin like a flying squirrel, gliding to a new position. The steel drum ruptured, leaving an oil slick across the road.

"Hee hee hee!"

With my focus split, the hawk took the opportunity to rake open my torso plating with his sharpened talons. He dove around my body, cutting other armor pieces loose as he did so. I let out a grunt of pain from how shockingly deep the cuts went.

♦ 38

"ENOUGH!"

I flipped my surroundings to their mirror image and filled the air with fake Figments, the suddenness of it forcing the hawk to reorient and lose speed. The Figments flew into a circle and became one of the largest, heaviest things I had in Null Space: The white-metal door to the vault beneath Sylvania Castle. It came down on the hawk like a cartoon anvil. He was fast enough to avoid being crushed by it, with only his leg pinned to the ground against the oil slick. That would have been enough to let him slip loose, but I pointed my finger at and a pink spark fired out. The spark stopped inches above the oil and his head.

"Move and you're deep fried," I said darkly.

These people were trying to kill me; I was returning the favor. The hawk winced, affixing me a spiteful glare, but he wasn't going to blow himself up. He was out.

The frog swung down from the roof of a building with a giggle.

"Oho? What have you got in store for me-hee-hee?"

I slammed a giant, crystalline jar on the frog without saying a word.

♦ 35

The frog crawled around the edges of the cylinder, trying to stick his head through the openings I left in the top. They were too small for him to squeeze past, but he got disturbingly close to an escape. He plopped down on the ground, arms crossed.

"Drat! And double drat!"

"You're lucky I put holes in it."

"Au contraire! No cell can hold-fold-cold me!"

I received a mental photo of the armory and switched my vision to what Figment was seeing. The flicky was glancing at rows of ordinance in the stuffy warehouse. A lot of weapons. Rifles, SMGs, machine guns, rocket launchers, and bombs. Some solid ammunition, and others exotic laser ones. I needed something quick I could use without lots of training.

Using Figment as an anchor, I made a small portal to his location and plucked a cylindrical smoke grenade off the shelf. The frog's manic smile turned upside-down when I pulled the pin and slid it down one of the 'air' holes. The jar was quickly enveloped in smoke. After that, it was more choking than laughter.

"Just kidding about the luck thing. Have fun hotboxing."

The last thing I sent to Figment was a simple directive.

Stay out of trouble. I'll be back soon.

The lynx, hawk, and frog were down for the count. I'd check on them when I was done with the last one. I turned to finish off the ape when he dove through the fractured crystal trap in a lunge, the remains of it crumbling to a glittery powder. He was on me in an instant, forcing me to become aware he was roughly my height and much broader in width.

"You should have stayed down," he said as he drove a massive fist into my chest. I was sent straight through the perimeter barricades and onto the hot desert sand. Somewhere between the impact and hitting the ground, I felt every bone in my torso shattering and gluing itself back together. Then the head and spine, which were the things I landed on.

To call dying multiple times at once a bad fall would be an understatement.

♦ 28

My eyes were closed for an indeterminate period of time. The Phantom Ruby still had juice when I opened them again, but I struggled to rise. Super strength being applied to a hand that big was like taking a cannonball. Taking a cannonball meant pain. Pain still hurts, regardless of whether I could heal it later. What remained of my armor was beyond repair, thoroughly warped by the force of the gorilla's punch. Including the parts he didn't directly hit, like the two rings from my gauntlet that I'd absorbed unconsciously. The Phantom Ruby was working overtime to keep up with my new job as a human ragdoll.

The gorilla vaulted over the ruins of the wall and made his way towards me. Behind him were the other members of his gang. The lynx was heavily bruised from his front-ender, the hawk was flying with a broken foot, and the frog was covered in sooty residue. It was obvious they were raring to go for Round Two.

I could nearly take them on one at a time. With the lynx sensing my movements, the bird tailing me in the air, the frog reeling me in, and the gorilla breaking me in two, I was outnumbered. Outplayed. I couldn't beat them as a team, and my chances of escape were low unless I wanted to toss everything I'd worked so hard to get.

My blurred vision slipped between what my eyes could see and what they couldn't. A large, green figure loomed over the four. Immaterial. Indistinct. Three emerald eyes glared down at me with the contempt spared for the flies on your windshield.

Death was staring me in the face again, and I was left shaking.

Shaking?

I was suddenly struck with inspiration. A way out that didn't involve a desperate resistance until I inevitably lost control to the Phantom Ruby. To buy time, I encouraged the adrenaline surge that followed, forcing my body to rise with more than telekinesis. The flow of energy from the mystical gem was redirected inwards, focusing on my biology. Muscles, blood, bones, and tendons. They'd need to be stronger than they'd ever been before.

♦ 20

I knew the Phantom Ruby was turning me into something else. Whatever it was, I didn't know yet. Nor was I going to wait and find out. I took out seven of the power rings I saved for an emergency and strapped them to my body. One on each wrist and ankle. Two on each arm and leg. One around my neck. Luminescent lines spread across my veins from the source, weaving a path that went from my arm to the heart. The rest of them went straight into fueling the metamorphosis to prevent me from going dry.

♦ 10

From the heart, my blood pumped ruby red through the skin and became the other kind of plasma. The colored mist surrounding me burst into flames, my hair standing on end before erupting into a pink inferno. At that moment, I felt brilliantly alive. Running hotter than hot. The rings restrained the energy boiling inside, preventing it from exploding outwards anywhere but my head or the twin spheres of white, purple, and violet coalescing around my hands. They had their second wind, and now I had mine.

For however long it lasted.

♦ ̵̶̵̢̧͜͟͞Ꝏ͏҉̸̡̛͘͟͡

I rammed into the group at full speed. They slowed down their advance and scattered when they saw me coming at them like a man on fire. A glowing blast of violet dispersed the ghost into motes of green that were never there at all. The numbers advantage was still in their corner, but all I had to do was keep on pushing until the time was ready.

"What did he do to himself?" the lynx called out as I got all-too-close to hitting him. He was starting to slow down, and a solid strike from my fists as they were now would be a career-ender.

"He's adapting. Now it's our turn!"

I focused my assault on the ape above the others. He was their leader. If I could keep him fighting, he couldn't give them directions. The others were having a harder time harming my reinforced body. I was better at fighting back this time, delivering intense burns with my punches while the rings resisted his sledgehammer impacts. The hawk's attempts to separate me from my rings came up short. When he tried that enough times to become predictable, my arm reached several meters past its length to yank him out of the sky and slam him against his teammates.

♦ 8

The rest of the brawl became a violent, drawn-out blur. They were still trying to wear me to a standstill, and I was too stubborn to die. The light tremors and disturbances of the sand where no one was standing told me I was close to finishing this.

♦ 6

"YOU NEVER TOLD ME YOUR NAMES!" I shouted when the combat reached its inevitable lull.

"We are the Fearsome Foursome!" the hawk spat out. "I am Predator Hawk."

The rest gave me their names while we all struggled to catch our breath.

"Lightning Lynx!"

"Hee hee hee! Flying Frog!"

"Sergeant Simian. And you?"

"JOHN… WORKS… FINE."

I was starting to notice a pattern. All of their names were stupid.

Before we could continue beating on each other, a colossal, eyeless monster arose from the sand between us. It looked like a big, greenish serpent, with a large maw of teeth thicker than railroad spikes. Twin rows of needles ran down its body, to sense its surroundings and obstacles as it swam through the desert. The creature let out a horrid, guttural growl that could rattle bones as it sniffed out its next source of protein.

That was a sandcrawler. Inside of its gaping mouth was a smaller, angrier sandcrawler.

I took a step back, one centimeter above the ground. My feet still have not yet made vibrations on the sand since I got up. The giant worm paused, as though measuring how many of the Foursome it could swallow in one bite. They froze, preparing for when the sandcrawler would make its lunge.

That was my plan the second they moved this fight away from the base. Bait them into being a monster's lunch and leave it at that. Then the two-faced beast went and bowled towards me.

"It's a heat seeker!" Predator Hawk said with a hint of relief.

"IN A DESERT?!" I roared with anger.

This whole planet was stupid and didn't make sense! I just wanted to dig my fingers into this insane world and make it make sense to me!

"EVERYTHING IS HOT IN A DESERT!"

The sandcrawler didn't argue with my logic. It just moved in to swallow me whole. I pounced on the worm in a savage rage and annihilated its heads in a double-fisted frenzy.

"DIE! DAMMIT, DIE!"

Green ooze splattered and dyed the sand. I didn't stop until the titanic monster stopped moving.

♦ 4

I rose from the creature's corpse, walking back towards the Four Who Wouldn't Quit.

"ARE YOU DONE YET?"

Lightning Lynx opened his mouth.

"We are honor-bound to--"

"SCREW YOUR HONOR! I'M ASKING BECAUSE I STILL HAVE ENOUGH FIREPOWER TO GLASS THIS DESERT AND PUT SANDWORMS ON THE RED LIST!"

They said nothing, but Flying Frog kept laughing. I didn't know about killing everything in the desert, but I was more confident about turning them to ash. All I had to do was aim and fire.

Another side of me bucked against the idea of it, telling me that I still had a choice in this. The Phantom Ruby wouldn't be forcing my hand. If I took their lives, I'd have to live with it.

I don't want all of this blood on my hands! Why are you making me do this?!

"WHAT DO I HAVE TO DO TO MAKE YOU STOP?" I screamed.

Sergeant Simian spoke. I don't think he minded being vaporized for whatever cause brought him to pick a fight with me. His soldier theme implied he held a lot of loyalty to something.

"Will us to stop. Not with your words or your might. Your will."

"IS THAT ALL YOU WANT?" I gathered a stream of dark mist from the fringes of my mind and cast them out, enveloping the Fearsome Foursome in a ruby haze. "STAND! DOWN! NOW! DO IT NOW!!"

♦ 3

Their eyes opened wide. The Foursome tried to fight back against the command, but I overwhelmed their wills. Quashed resistance and smashed it to pieces. The diamond sigil on their foreheads faded into the background, obliging to my temporary domination.

Without saying another word, they left. Walked and limped out into the desert. I kept watching them until a white hovercraft stowed away in the dunes took off with them in it.

It was a victory. Hard earned, because I didn't get a win on this horrible planet otherwise.

I stumbled back towards the base, my body slowly cooling down as the restraining rings bubbled up and melted into my skin. The hyenas saw me coming back and drew their guns.

"DROP THEM," I snarled.

♦ 2

They threw down their weapons in a panic. Wes Weasley ran into view, being harried by Figment. I couldn't help but notice he had a suitcase with laser guns poking out of it in his hand, and that he was trying to reach one of the air bikes leaning on a post.

"You crazy bird, can't you see I'm getting the heck out of Desert Dodge?"

He got pecked in the nose. Figment must have been feeling generous, or too lazy to rip the guy's glasses off before going for the eyes.

"Owch!"

I reached for Weasley's collar and lifted him up into the air. Suddenly, I was there.

"HAVEN'T YOU HEARD YOU CAN'T TAKE IT WITH YOU?"

Weasley started babbling incoherently. He was out of excuses and the only thing he thought had left was to beg for mercy. The fringes of his blazer started to burn up in my grip.

"I'M NOT GONNA KILL YOU," I said loudly, though more quiet than before.

He stopped crying.

"You're not?" he asked, legitimately surprised.

"NO," I said with a smile. "YOU'RE BEING NATIONALIZED. WELCOME TO YOUR FULL-TIME POSITION WITH THE FREEDOM FIGHTERS LOGISTICAL DIVISION. I'LL BE YOUR BOSS. YOU CAN CALL ME SCARLET."

I held him up for the rest of the hyenas to see.

"ANYONE GOT A PROBLEM WITH THAT?"

The hyenas shook their heads furiously. I lowered Weasley to the ground, and Figment landed at my shoulder.

"GET ME A CAR BATTERY--" I cleared my throat. "--And a burner phone. I want to hire all of those mercenaries in your rolodex."

- - -

Spoiler: Author Notes / Lore

The Fearsome Foursome are a band of oddball villains who have worked for multiple characters over the length of the books. They might be named after a famous group of football players. Or it might be an attempt to do a play on the Sinister Six. I don't know. For most of the story they had zero backstory. They'd simply show up when an issue called for them and a gaggle of other criminals to do so. Their origins weren't elaborated upon until the tail end of the original continuity. Except Lynx, who we found more out about during the Iron Dominion thing. He's secretly a ninja simp.

Sandcrawlers made their appearance in the comic as a feature of Angel Island's Sandopolis Desert. The smaller ones can have reins attached to them like horses or camels, making them one of the few beasts of burden on Mobius! I cracked up when I found that out.

"Hi ho, Shai-Hulud!"

While its possible they only came into being after Angel Island got nuked, other games (Sonic 4, Sonic: Lost World) feature badnik and organic sandworms in them. As such, I interpreted the sandcrawler as being a predator that popped up in deserts across Mobius. How else are you going to harvest the ingredients for Lemon Sun Drops? This one having two heads was a nod to Beetlejuice.

John Scarlet's transformation method and new abilities have roots in other parts of the series. I'll leave it at that for the time being.

 

[Drkonecharlie]

Thank you for putting this out it's quite entertaining i may have questions upon questions but you're doing a good job of revealing it answers and it never feels frustrating not knowing them now plus your grammar and spelling are great please keep up the good work

 

[weredrago2]

Ruby Haze
Chapter 16: Guns for Scryer

For how brief my battle with the Fearsome Four was, the aftermath of my furious life-or-death struggle lingered. Once the adrenaline and power rings were all used up, my body was left wracked with horrible aches and pains. It took days of leeching volts out of an Overland fuel cell and an old diesel generator to get back to a reasonable level of strength. My nerves burned all the same, and they burned the most where I used rings to prevent my body from exploding into ruby confetti.

That was a stupid idea. Stupid. Reckless. What was I thinking?

In spite of all of that, the pain was a marked improvement from feeling like a ghost trapped in my own skin. All of those weird phantom sensations and bouts of numbness came to a stop after I forced the Phantom Ruby to finish up what it was doing to my body. With the metamorphosis complete, excess weight was replaced with lean musculature. Lingering imperfections in my eyes and sinus were scoured away, leaving my senses sharper than they've ever been. The glowing streaks of energy that ran down my left arm, which were slowly receding with a power ring set over them, were now a permanent fixture.

What didn't kill me made me stronger, even if killing me was never their main objective.

The few things the Unfab Four let slip about their motives remained stuck in my mind. Who sent them to 'test my might'? Whoever they were, the green mark they put on those goons had to be some kind of magic. The kind that wasn't broken after I used magic of my own to overpower their minds. The sigil merely stepped aside and let me do my work.

Was that the 'test'? Seeing if I could, or would use my powers like that? Push me to my limit and see what happened?

Mission accomplished. Until the last second, I didn't know I possessed the power to mesmerize people. Rob them of their wills, attach strings to their minds, and tug them in whatever directions I desired. It made sense, considering that the Phantom Ruby is supposed to be able to control what people perceive. Changing what they could think was a logical next step, though now that I could dominate minds and inflict mass hypnosis, I wasn't exactly in a rush to do it again.

As it would turn out, I wasn't the only one marked by my act of desperation. Thick, black lines rippled across the once-pristine Phantom Ruby's surface. I didn't know what that meant, but my bond to the gem felt stronger than it had been. The power flowed out of the Phantom Ruby much more readily than it did when I first got it, and more efficiently. There were depths to it that I had yet to explore. Until I stumbled into a spellbook or other snippet of arcane knowledge, the best I could do to keep up with this other magician was to eat more rings and continue experimenting with the Phantom Ruby on my own.

"Watch the door," I said to Figment. My familiar gave me a short nod. He'd already healed from our fight with the Four, and was raring for action again.

He'd get more action when we got back to smashing badniks. I closed my eyes, and the cramped dimensions of the derelict officer's quarters I've been licking my wounds in were replaced with the fluorescent expanse of Null Space.

♦ 30

My own world. Like building blocks, I could form geometric shapes and rearrange objects I'd dragged in here as I saw fit. My first priority was sorting all of the junk I'd stuck in here and forgot about, making them easier to draw from later. The weapons and ammo I'd collected were plucked from the void and arranged into neat racks, including the safe door I've been using as a blunt instrument. I put the most care into an improvised mausoleum to store the petrified robians, sealed in crystal until we could cure them all.

There was an almost therapeutic aspect to trying to enforce boundaries onto a place otherwise lacking in them. Raw chaos I could grab by the neck and force to make sense.

For now, I constructed a rough ruby floor, table, and chair. They were sturdy enough to hold my weight and wouldn't go flying off into the endless horizon, which is all needed. On one hand, I wove threads of pink into a translucent, glassy sphere charged with the ephemeral aspects of the Phantom Ruby I called upon to create portals and teleport. My spatial awareness was always poor, and yet, I could finely intuit the gulfs of space and matter between Mercia and Leonus as though they were laid out on a flat map. A map that could be folded, twisted, or weaved through at my leisure.

"Here goes nothing," I said, as I willed the scrying orb to show me what I wanted to see.

The image was fuzzy, at first, the surface too thick and cloudy to see through. Same as the other prototypes. I was going to chuck it into the abyss and start fresh, but this time, I attempted to painstakingly purge the imperfections from the sphere, 'tuning' the signal until I could sharply make out the snow-covered trees of Hideaway.

"Aha! Bingo!"

My first crystal ball. Now this was a breakthrough. Definitely couldn't make one of these babies before. An incredibly useful tool, though trying to scry on places I'd never been to, like Robotropolis, resulted only in white noise.

♦ 25

I shifted the 'lens' of my perception around the village until I found Rob or somebody who could pass a message along to him. That duty ended up going to Friar Buck, who was hunched over a writing desk transcribing the contents of an old document onto another, fresher parchment by candlelight. From Null Space, I opened a violet vortex that swirled with splotches of white and magenta right outside his hut.

♦ 22

With a wave of my hand, I donned on a magenta wizard hat and cowboy poncho to fend off the chill. The poncho went over a black tunic and trousers tailored for my dimensions. The Phantom Ruby was set into one of my leather gloves, inserted in such a way that obscured the point where it fused into my hand. The gloves were matched by leather shoes with steel spikes and a leather belt with a hexagonal buckle. The leather was imitation, in the same way I hoped everyone else was wearing the fake stuff, too.

I stepped through the portal and knocked on Friar Buck's door.

"Who is it?" the vicar asked, surprise from the late-night disturbance clear in his voice.

"John Scarlet," I answered softly. "Can you remind Rob that we'll be ready to move shortly? Same place as before."

Friar Buck opened the door. His eyes were wearier than when I'd last seen him, on a jump from Efrika to Eurish I did to prove it could be done. I was only around long enough to drop off the first wave of critical supplies and give the Crazy Kritters a window as to when I'd send along the rest. That wasn't nearly enough time to see if they were holding up.

"I shall pass the message along. But first, how hath ye been? Hath thine efforts in securing aid from distant Efrika fared well?"

"We can talk about me later. As for the mercs…"

- - -

"It says here you had experience as a drill instructor during the Great War."

The man's dossier was that of a decorated officer. I would have conducted these interviews in disguise, but it's not like I could hide I was human forever. Instead, the backroom of a seedy cantina that was more Jabba's than Rick's served as the clandestine location for these mercenary interviews.

"THAT'S RIGHT!" the canine in full military dress shouted at me from across the short table we were sitting at. The tall, muscular mobian was still wearing his old helmet and service ribbons. He looked like the type who didn't take them off. Ever. "WE CHASED THE ENEMY ALL THE WAY FROM NORTHAMER TO THIS WALKER-FORSAKEN DESERT!"

It was hard to tell if Sergeant Doberman had any lingering enmity of the overlanders from that alone. Naturally, the sellswords that refused to cooperate with overlanders outright did not make it onto Wes Weasley's short list of hired guns who were willing to work with me and take contracts against Doctor Robotnik. Doberman appeared to be eager to fight anyone for anyone, so long as he had more opportunities to pin extra medals to his chest.

"That's good to hear, though, if you could lower your voice--"

"YOU JUST GIVE THE ORDER, AND I CAN TURN A MEWLING BOX OF KITTENS INTO A SQUAD OF HARDENED KILLERS WHO'LL TAKE ANY HILL AT THE DROP OF A HAT!"

He was a good candidate, if not one for stealth missions. The fact that he advocated for the usage of machine guns and rocket launchers might be the bone of contention preventing him from joining the Freedom Fighters. That, or because the Freedom Fighters are strapped for cash and I couldn't see them getting into the drug trade.

"Sergeant Doberman, you have the job. Mister Weasley should fill you in on the details."

"WAIT ONE MINUTE, BUSTER! DID YOU SAY WEASLEY?"

I frowned.

"Yes? He mentioned you worked with him on a raid of the Veg-O-Fortress."

At that moment, Wes Weasley walked in to check on our progress. I must've forgotten to put up the red stopper that signified I didn't want anyone entering.

"Johnny Boy! How are the interviews… going?"

I could tell from Weasley's strained grin that he wasn't expecting me to be interviewing Doberman yet. The sergeant stood up and pointed an accusatory finger at Weasley, who attempted to look innocent.

"THERE'S ALWAYS A CATCH WITH THIS DRAFT-DODGING CON MAN!"

Wes Weasley angrily pointed a finger back. This was the first time I saw him break character from his salesman persona.

"Oh, please! You think those tanks you play with grow on trees?"

I pinched the bridge of my nose. I had to cut in.

"Look. I'm running this operation. Not him."

"THOSE TANKS WERE ON THEIR LAST TREADS WHEN YOU SOLD THEM!" Doberman shouted past me.

"You don't need to shout every word," I groused. "I can see this isn't going to--"

"Read the fine print, buster! Maintenance was EXTRA!"

I stood up and dug my fingers into the wood until I felt splinters.

"Would both of you KNOCK IT OFF?"

Sergeant Doberman stopped. Wes Weasley also shut up because he remembered I was holding his purse strings.

"I, er--" Doberman stammered at a normal volume. I amped up my voice to prevent either of them from cutting me off again.

"I NEED A DRILL INSTRUCTOR TO TRAIN ANTI-ROBOTNIK PARTISANS IN EURISH. DO YOU HAVE THE CHOPS TO DO IT OR NOT?"

Sergeant Doberman snapped to attention, giving me a salute.

"Sir, yes sir! When do we move out?"

For a moment, I thought I was unconsciously mesmerizing him. As far as I could tell, that was his genuine snap reaction.

"A few days. We'll keep in touch."

- - -

Next, I moved on to arranging for a bush pilot to smuggle supplies for us on a more regular basis. Wes Weasley said he knew a daring soldier of fortune who'd risk doing the route as long as we had gold to spare. Considering how Weasley also said he was 'old pals' with Doberman, I had to take his claims about Le Duck's talents with a grain of salt.

To my surprise, Captain William Le Duck appeared very qualified for the job. The white duck wore an aviator suit and blue scarf, so he looked the part. Beyond that, he was a Mercian airman who'd been flying since their short-lived air program got off the ground. After the Great War, Le Duck took his flying skills into the private sector, having spent the Robotnik years as a flier-for-hire.

"Just one thing before I sign on ze dotted line," the duck said. Naturally, he had an accent that made him sound like a bad French impression. "To be clear, I will not be expected to participate een any direct fighting, right?"

Some soldier of fortune. On closer inspection, his record showed most of his flight hours were from barnstorming and air tours for wealthy patrons. Le Duck visibly wilted when I stated in no uncertain terms that he was going to have to make the supply deliveries in unfriendly airspace. At night, unless he wanted to do the High Sheriff's anti-air a favor and perform his illegal missions in broad daylight.

"Captain Le Duck, your skills would be underutilized if I only used you as a combat asset. Pilots of your calibur are very rare, and you would serve best in a supporting role."

"Zat ees a relief. Een zat case, I would be happy to deliver ze shipments!"

While everything I said was true, the real reason for his 'supporting role' was that I didn't want Le Duck chickening out during a dogfight. He was strictly on cargo duty only. If the aviator didn't come with his own biplane, I might've avoided hiring him entirely.

"Excellent. Is your standard rate acceptable, plus hazard pay?"

Le Duck held up a hand.

"Non."

"Double?"

"Non, non, zat will not do, either!"

My fingers came back to the wood, before I slowly retracted them. I wasn't going to ruin a table every time I lost my temper, and if I lost my temper without any power rings left, I didn't know for certain when I would get it back. Instead, I took a sip of my mazagran.

"Captain Le Duck, how high are you expecting me to go?"

He shook his head.

"You misunderstand, Monsieur Scarlet! Ever since Sonic and Tails rekindled my adventurous spirit, I have been meaning to repay the favor! For you freedom fighters, my fee ees halved!"

I blinked. That was much better than I was expecting.

"It sounds like there's a story to that," I said. "Care to share?"

"There ees! We were in the Temple of Komometz, in Soumerca! Eet was dark. Eet was dangerous! Of course, I was not scared een ze slightest…"

- - -

Two down, one trio to go.

"How do you deal with stressful situations?"

That was a loaded question.

"I try to take them in stride with a sense of humor," I answered one of my interviewees dryly. "How about you?"

The green bird -- couldn't tell what kind -- with a red bandana and a feathery cowlick rocked in his chair as he gave the question thought. His hand went under the table, and it came back with a round, black bomb. The deadly explosive looked like it was ripped straight out of a cartoon, but that didn't make it any less deadly.

"Blow them up, I guess!" Bean the Dynamite said absentmindedly.

The cream-colored polar bear sitting across from him brought a mittened hand to his face. He looked tough, and watching him pick up the remains of a truck assured me that he was at least as strong as Simian.

Bark the Polar Bear, befitting the strong, silent type that he was, said nothing in regards to Bean's antics. His silence said enough: He thought Beam was botching the job for them. Which he would have, if I hadn't already thought up a way to deal with a bomb being lobbed my way the second I saw their pictures in Weasley's contacts. I knew of them from before, and in a world where familiar faces were scarce, scant recognizability was enough for me to consider them worth the risk of approaching for the job.

I still had to be cautious, as there was some concern on my part that they were working for Nack the Weasel. Nack was a known Robotnik collaborator. As it turned out, the bird and bear answered to a red fox in a yellow and white bodysuit instead.

"Bean, what did I tell you about showing your 'collection' to clients?" Fiona Fox's tone was light, but firm, like she was talking to a small child. They've had this conversation before.

"Don't?" he fielded bashfully.

"That's right, Bean. Put it away."

Bean's beak bent into a frown. He lowered the bomb back under the table, and it was gone.

"Sorry, Mister Scarlet," Bean said, looking suitably ashamed. Or, he would have been suitably ashamed, if we were talking about a pet frog in class and not a bomb.

I couldn't resist checking under the table. It really was gone. I knew how I could pull that off, but what was his excuse?

"How did he…?"

"It's best not to ask," Fox said. "Sorry for that. I told Bean what you were having us do, and he got ahead of himself."

"That's quite alright."

I waved it off, to Bark's relief. I generally knew what to expect out of those two, and whatever I didn't get from the video games came up within the first five minutes of the conversation. Bean talked a lot, and Bark didn't say much at all. The mission I had for this group was sabotage, plain and simple. I set up the targets, and they knock them down.

Fiona Fox, on the other hand, was a wild card. Specifically, a Jack of all trades. Not an exemplary fighter, medic, pilot, treasure hunter, or tactician, Fox was good enough at all of those things to be worth the money. Other than that, her personality was much harder to pin down. I was grateful for a note from Weasley not to mention a certain bat she had a bone to pick with. Which was just as well; Rouge was the kind of agent who contacted you, and was practically impossible to contact if she didn't want to be found. The master thief was unreachable, leading to Weasley to suggest I get in touch with Fionna Fox instead.

"There's one last thing I need to make sure of," Fox said cooly, in such a way that confirmed to me she was a teenager trying a bit too hard to sound like an adult. "Will Sonic the Hedgehog be anywhere near this?"

That was a worrying question. From the tone, I took it she wasn't on good terms with him.

"Not likely."

Fiona Fox mulled over my answer before turning to her two cohorts.

"Good. Bean, Bark? We're in."

"Woohoo!" Bean exclaimed.

Bark gave a nod.

Even with that red flag hanging high, I was willing to take a risk. Nothing ventured, nothing gained. Besides, I could take all the help I could get.

- - -

"I got a few people." Back in Leonus, Figment heard a knock on the door. "Sorry, I'm needed elsewhere."

"Try not to overextend thineself," Friar Buck said with a concerned expression. Then, his face became harder to read. "Thine voice sounds different from before."

"Different?"

"Mister Wizard!"

I heard a shout behind me.

"You're back!" Amy cried. She was in a green winter coat, and was dragging around a black tome thick enough to stop a drawbridge. "Look at what I found!"

I turned around.

"Sorry, Amy. Gonna have to give that a read when I get back for real. See you soon!"

She tilted her head in confusion.

"But, you're already--"

I took a step back into Null Space, closing the portal behind me. A quick consultation of the crystal ball told me that space was already cleared near Hideaway for our arrival. Room had also been set aside in the valley around Sylvania Castle and the abandoned plot outside of an old cathedral in the Outlands for the same reason. We had to get everything ready days in advance, in order to make it all run as smoothly as possible.

I walked back to Leonus.

"What is it?" I called the person at the door.

The voice on the other end of the door was one of the hyenas.

"Everything's ready for the uh, movement, boss."

"Excellent. I'll be out to do the final inspections shortly."

I reeled my arm across the room to the door, the hand hooking on the handle several meters away. With a twist, the handle was turned, and the door opened. When I let go of the handle, my arm snapped back into place with an audible crack. It was a new trick that I stumbled into when I reached out and slammed Predator Hawk into the sand, possibly a side effect of my overclocking move. Evidently, it was here to stay. Once I was fully healed, I planned to integrate my increased flexibility into my combat repertoire.

I walked out to see that it was the spotted hyena, Stripes. Next to him was the striped hyena, Spots.

"Where are Weasley and the mercenaries?" I asked the hyena.

Spots and Stripes pointed at the center of the base, where I could see Wes Weasley, Doberman, Le Duck, Bean, Bark, and Fox. They were standing next to all the military hardware I've accumulated for the trip: Crates of weapons, six Humvees, four pillbox-style APCs, a dozen motorcycles, and twice the rest put together in bicycles. While most of the vehicles retained their standard drivetrains, a couple of them were retrofitted with gravity drives and boosters ripped straight out of extreme gear. I insisted that they have governors attached, to head off any skewer-related accidents that might come from boosting at full tilt through Deerwood Forest.

I gave the hyena a nod and walked towards the group, with Figment not far behind. Wes Weasley was filling the air with idle chatter, trying to sell them all a few more weapons and protective equipment before we departed.

"Is everyone here?" I called out to the ensemble, once I checked off all the guns and vehicles on the manifest.

"Ready to depart, sir!" Doberman said.

"We're ready," Fiona Fox replied. "Where's the plane?"

"I do not think everyone will fit een my plane," said Le Duck, gesturing to his red biplane that was wheeled in.

"We aren't taking a plane," I said as I held up one hand.

Channeling the loose threads of space between two points and giving them a pull, I illuminated the midnight desert with a large, magenta portal back to Mercia. The resulting wormhole was wide enough to drive the trucks through, which is what the hyenas would do once they picked their jaws off the floor.

♦ 17

I then stuck my hand through the gateway and opened smaller portals to the Outlands and Sylvania Castle, where the rest of the boxes were headed.

♦ 13

I spared a glance at the assembled group, who were in varying stages of shock. Weasley and the hyena gangsters who saw me pull this trick before were quick to recover and started loading cargo through the gateway.

Well, not Weasley. He was 'supervising'.

"Ooh, shiny…" Bean murmured, entranced by the swirling colors. Bark pulled on Bean's bandana to prevent the dazed duck from wandering into it without supervision.

"The overlander ees a witch!" Le Duck cried as he hid behind a box in fright, waving around a three-toed silver medallion in my general direction. "WITCH!"

"You don't want to stand there," I said diplomatically.

Le Duck read the label on the box of grenades and relocated himself to a pile of sandbags.

"Ah, merci, mon ami." He cleared his throat. "WITCH!"

Fiona Fox rolled her eyes.

"He's got a portal generator in his glove, you dummy!" she scolded.

She had a sharp eye. Not the complete picture, but she made a rational leap in logic from the clues provided. Doberman was the next one to regain his composure.

"O-Of course! I recognize a piece of bleeding-edge military technology when I see it!"

"Yes, yes, I was telling a joke," Le Duck said sheepishly, sliding the talisman back into his coat. "Must we go to Mercia zat way?"

I gestured to his large, red biplane, where they were loading up the supplies for his flight.

"Le Duck, you're the only one who doesn't have to take a portal. Your first shipment to Villa Stella isn't for a couple of weeks."

"Villa Stella? Zat is familiar territory! I will see you there!"

Once his plane was loaded, Captain Le Duck took off in his plane then and there.

"Any more tricks like that we should know about?" Fiona Fox asked as Bean and Bark walked ahead, followed by Doberman.

"I'll give a briefing later," I answered succinctly.

Finding the answer sufficient, she hopped into one of the truck beds as the vehicle drove through the vortex without another word.

As I watched the crates and vehicles pass through the gateway, Wes Weasley sidled up to me, pointing a thumb towards the remaining boxes. They were loaded with non-perishable food, clean clothes, and medicine from my own discretionary budget.

"You're absolutely, positively certain you want us to just give these things to the folks in Casabana?" he asked.

"Yes."

"Scarlet, palsy! I just don't see the profit in it! We wouldn't even be selling at cost!"

Weasley, to his credit, had superficial charm down to a T. That was the sort of thing that got your foot in the door as a door-to-door salesman, but he wasn't a door-to-door salesman anymore. If he kept thinking like one, he'd be missing out on what would otherwise be a very easy grift for him to pull off.

"Then you're only thinking in material terms. Tell me, what's the one thing you can't buy in Casabana?"

Wes Weasley paused to consider the conundrum.

"Chaos Emeralds?"

"Exactly." I stopped and realized his answer wasn't remotely right. "Wait, no! That's wrong! I was looking for 'charity'!"

"Then you came to the wrong place."

I glared at Weasley, and he let out a nervous chuckle.

"Stay with me here. Have you seen Casbana? The only thing you can't find there is charity. A helping hand. Ever wonder why Al Capone sponsored a soup kitchen?"

"Who?"

"Scratch that. Does Downtown Hare sponsor any soup kitchens?"

"A couple, but I never saw the appeal of it myself."

"The appeal is that if you provide people with the things they need to survive, they'll remember it. Keep giving to them, when no one else will. You'll get a lot more loyalty and goodwill than if you sold at cost. You can't buy either of those things with gold."

Wes Weasley was flummoxed by the paradox of giving a little and getting a little. Then, it clicked. He rubbed his palms together greedily.

"Aha! I knew the poor are an untapped market! I just needed an in!" He shoved his hand into mine and shook it. "Oh, I knew signing up with you would be a good idea!"

That was… close enough to what I was intending. I'd have to check in later to make sure he doesn't take it in the wrong direction.

"I'll keep in touch," I said to him, once the cross-country transport was done.

Weasley stopped paying attention to me. Rather, he had the hyenas loading up his luxury hovercraft with crates.

"Move it along, boys! We're gonna be giving those huddled masses a very merry holiday!"

I stepped back into Mercia, onto a Deerwood Forest clearing. A layer of snow covered the ground. Several of Deerwood's giant trees were nearly barren of their leaves, changing them into ominous pillars of wood laid out across the landscape. Rob O' the Hedge and David the Dormouse were in the middle of the fracas, dictating where different resources would be moved and allocated.

"Hail and well met," I said as I flew over to them.

"Friend John!" Rob replied in greeting. He was his usual, bombastic self, though I could sense a degree of exhaustion beneath the surface. He was tired. "You hath certainly delivered on thine word! And then some! These armaments and conveyances should tip the scales of war in our favor."

As they walked through the Outlands portal, I saw Monsieur Chat passing a wad of mobiums to Fifi. The former forked over the cash with a scowl, while the latter was happy to receive it.

"I didn't want to disappoint."

Presto and Cadence were carrying a box as a duo. Presto lifted with his legs, and Cadence lifted with her wings. Lady Finella and her Highlanders came through the Sylvania Castle gateway to assist, though most of their supplies were strictly civilian. That didn't stop Finella from heckling Spots and Stripes until they handed her a crate full of SMGs.

"It's good to have you back."

"It's good to be back." Back to what I'd been calling my home away from home. Home in general was starting to feel like a distant concept. Considering that it was past dark here, too, Friar Buck was likely putting Amy back to bed. "Hey, where are Arthur and Gilbert?"

Rob hopped off the stump he'd been standing atop.

"David, couldst thee handle things from here?" David Dormouse gave a quick reply, and Rob started to walk back towards Hideaway. "Come with me."

"Where are we headed?"

"It wouldst be better if thou saw them for thyself."

We stopped at a white tent that had been erected in the middle of Hideaway while I was away. It only took me a moment to realize its purpose.

"Oh."

The levity drained out of me when it once again hit me that we were at war, and that this was a medical tent. While I was a continent away, the war was happening without me.

"The High Sheriff has escalated his effort to exterminate us, requisitioning super badniks to serve as horde commanders for his robotic raiders."

We burned the midnight oil catching up on what I missed. The kinds of killing machines that were picked out to deal with The Scarlet Wizard and became their problem instead. No one died yet, but the ones taken alive had only the roboticizer to look forward to.

The next morning, I'd check to see how bad the damage was.

Then I'd make sure it didn't happen again.

- - -

Spoiler: Author Notes / Lore

As with Wes Weasley, Sergeant Doberman and William Le Duck are from Adventures of Sonic the Hedgehog. Doberman had about as many appearances as Wes Weasley scattered over the show. Le Duck, on the other hand, was a one-episode wonder.

Bean & Bark were characters created for Sonic the Fighters to pad out the roster with more play styles. Bean's design was a nod to Dynamite Dux. The two characters took on a life of their own over the years, alongside fellow side character Nack the Weasel/Fang the Sniper. The trio have been mainstays in the comics as Team Hooligan, and they've gone so far as to get an appearance in Sonic Mania. They never got a starring role, but that doesn't make them forgotten.

Fiona Fox's backstory is, in the spirit of the comic book medium, too complicated for its own good and involves being replaced by a robot. While it isn't 100% canon, I gave Fiona her jumpsuit early because the alternative was just her wearing a belt, shoes, and bow. Which would be kinda weird when most of the female characters wear actual clothes.

Yes, I know Sally didn't wear pants until the reboot. She had a jacket.

 

[weredrago2]

Thank you for putting this out it's quite entertaining i may have questions upon questions but you're doing a good job of revealing it answers and it never feels frustrating not knowing them now plus your grammar and spelling are great please keep up the good work

Click to shrink...

Thank you!

Feel free to drop any questions you have here in the tread. Depending on what the question is, I may be able to answer a few of them without them being spoilers.

 

[Drkonecharlie]

Thank you!

Feel free to drop any questions you have here in the tread. Depending on what the question is, I may be able to answer a few of them without them being spoilers.

Click to shrink...

Oh no most of my questions revolve around what caused john to appear with the Ruby and whats up with the green mark and how can he solve the hole power issue all things that will be told with time

Oh one that can be answered is how much does John know about the setting he is in and how well he remembers it

Also how far into this story are you done

 

[weredrago2]

Oh no most of my questions revolve around what caused john to appear with the Ruby and whats up with the green mark and how can he solve the hole power issue all things that will be told with time

Click to shrink...

You're correct in that this set of questions is all in the domain of spoilers. If you're familiar with the comics, you can draw some conclusions, but they should all be revealed in time.

Oh one that can be answered is how much does John know about the setting he is in and how well he remembers it

Click to shrink...

John Scarlet knows everything I do about the Sonic franchise... except for information exclusive to the Archie Comics continuities. My rule of thumb is that if I didn't know something before going out of my way to look it up for this fanfic, then the SI probably doesn't know it, either.

As an added wrinkle, since they weren't out when I started writing this, he probably doesn't know anything from Sonic Frontiers onward.

Also how far into this story are you done

Click to shrink...

I have one last chapter to drop for now, and it's a non-canon "bonus" chapter. A present to cap things off until I finish chapter 17.

 

[weredrago2]

Metal Sonic Jazz
Non-Canon Bonus

Compared to the frenetic gunfight that nearly lit the Oil Ocean on fire, the flight to my next destination was relatively uneventful. Taking off from a runway in the Great Desert, my aerospace frame flew at supersonic speeds over the body of water separating Northamer from Soumerca. Sonic could keep his bragging rights about being the fastest thing on the ground, but Jet was going to have to take the lead out if wanted to stand a chance against a performance machine with a cruising speed of Mach 2 like me.

The drawback of flipping down my nose cone, drawing in my limbs, and transforming into a space jet was that I had to see through the cameras on what'd otherwise be the back of my head. Their shutter speed was fast enough to stop me from crashing into anything at full speed, but they saw the world with significantly less depth and sophistication than my primary sensory core. The one I had to conceal behind a visor to avoid terrifying people when they saw a giant, red orb glaring at them.

I really need a press agent. Maybe Sally can stick a fridge magnet to my chest and call it a symbol of friendship?

I tuned into the Robotnet to pass the time, routing my traffic through the orbital Sky Spy I hijacked to mask my location. The Robotnet was much like the early internet on my Earth: All channels were reserved for military intelligence, and fairly dead outside of it. All activity was nominal at Robotropolis and the territories operated by the Sub-Bosses. The most recent messages were a pair of global orders from the Big Egg himself to report any signs of 'malcontent machinery' and a mass recall on any badniks too old to be compatible with the patch he designed to lock me out of the chain of command.

Recalling all of those outmoded robots and rolling out new ones to replace them was going to be a significant strain on his resources, even if it was a smart idea in the long run. According to encrypted messages passed along to me from Crocbot -- the tin tyrant of Downunda whose ambitions creeped far beyond his official directives -- Robotnik had been getting stricter with the freedoms meted out to his more intelligent robots since I went 'rogue'. There were harsher material quotas and stricter check-in times. Failure to comply with either would result in their warranties being voided with extreme prejudice.

It seemed my rather close attempt on Robotnik's life during whatever he was planning at the Carnival Night park spooked him more than I thought. I only had one shot at ending this madness before he realized I wasn't beholden to Metal Sonic's loyalty coding, and I missed it because I was too disoriented by freshly booting up into a foreign body to land a kill shot. Sir Charles was still helping me come to terms with the fact I was no longer made out of flesh, blood, and sinew, but that little hangup wouldn't stop me from trying to take Robotnik down when the opportunity presented itself again.

Was I always this cold-blooded? Or would that be coolant-blooded? Whatever.

Regardless of the fact that I wasn't the robot he programmed, Robotnik thought I was one of his and was acting accordingly. Considering that Heavy and Bomb really did go rogue at the same time I escaped, he wasn't totally off base. Robotnik's intent to throttle the independence of his far-flung super badniks like Crocbot and Octobot was reading loud and clear. They publicly took their lumps, but the fact I received an ironclad gift basket from them both told me they were considering a defection of their own. The 'defective' members of the Badnik Horde were to be dropped off to be dropped off at holding areas like Scrap Valley and the Robo Hobo Jungle to be forgotten about. I'd have to check on Ditso and the others to see how they're holding up, once the Surveillance Orbs have cleared out.

My GPS pinged as Mt. Mobius Island came into sight. The colossal mountain that was the area's namesake loomed over the long stretches of brush and woodlands surrounding it. Rusted spikes and vents peppered the surface of the mountain's jagged cliffs, and a boiling sea of lava cast it in an eternal dance between light and shadow.

Without the mustachioed scowl carved onto its face, one could forget that Mt. Mobius was once known as the Veg-O-Fortress. Soon, it'll be known to me as my new base of operations. It took Sonic the Hedgehog three separate attempts to break in and wreck this place, and it now layed abandoned to the elements of earth and fire. The island wasn't too far from the mainland, but it was too dangerous for anyone to come snooping around without a good reason. All that was left of the Veg-O-Fortress was one bad eruption away from becoming completely unsalvageable.

I switched to subsonic flight, a hair below stall speed, and flew into the narrow tunnel at the base of the mountain. A long rail ran atop the lake of fire, but I trusted it as far as I did the comically large flippers. I'd take flight over the fickle whimsies of Robotnik's deranged pinball architecture any day of the week.

>SELECT: TREASURE SCOPE

My radar attachment popped open and scanned the area. Unfortunately, what little Sonic didn't smash up left much to be desired. The lower levels of the Veg-O-Fortress that weren't reclaimed by lava were smeared in a thick paste of toxic waste, the kind of which glowed neon green and gave Geiger counters anxiety. Having to land to turn the geothermal pumps back on, I did an aerobatic loop, flipped up my main spine, and extended my legs atop a thin strip of land that I hoped wouldn't strip my blue-and-flames paint job.

Once my feet were on solid ground, my left ear began to buzz.

>INCOMING CALL FROM: KNOTHOLE
>PRIORITY: LOW

Low priority? That meant it wasn't an emergency call, which was usually the only kind I received from them. After that were requests to know my location and activities, to prevent any wires being crossed between their missions and mine.

>ACCEPT CALL

I extended my ear into a full satellite dish. The video feed from the freedom fighter's base in the Great Forest started to buffer in the top left corner of my HUD. Ambient radiation from the toxic waste and volcanic heat did little to disrupt my advanced communications suite. I was expecting it to be Princess Sally, as she was the one calling nine times out of ten.

"John here. What can I do for you, Princess Acorn?"

I almost went by Kilroy, but the best way to hold on to my old identity was to keep my name. I was also proud of how I sounded, as it took hours upon hours of tweaking my voice box from the Sonic-esque default to one approximating my old one. The end result was, for reasons I could never hope to comprehend, a voice that sounded an awful lot like Tom Kenny. Not that I was complaining.

"There may be a mistake. I was attempting to contact Metal Sonic Version 2.5."

The young woman on the other end of the line spoke crisply and with fine precision. She sounded an awful lot like Sally, but her inflections were too stilted. Automated. The video feed I typically expected was replaced with a 'NO OUTPUT' message. Either Sally was replaced by a very poor Auto Automaton, or…

"Nicole?" I ventured. "You're the AI who helps the freedom fighters."

It was more polite than saying, "Hey, it's Sally's feature phone!"

"That is correct," Nicole said flatly.

>SELECT: PLASMA PULSE

Neither of us said anything for a few seconds. I walked further into the ruins of the Veg-O-Fortress, one arm transformed into a cannon connected to my engine chamber to pick off obstructing debris.

"What can I do for you?" I asked. "You have the right guy, but it's John. Not Metal Sonic."

"Updating your registered name in my database." She paused. "Database update complete. I wanted to ask you a question, John."

A large, serpentine badnik reared its reptilian head out of a pool of boiling sludge. The badnik was heavily damaged, either from a prior fight or the slime it was left to fester in, but functional enough to talk and fight.

"Back for round four, needlenose?" The badnik craned its neck closer to me. "Did you get a quill wax--?"

>SELECT: MEGA MUCK

One of my arms became a hose. I fired a stream of purple, quick-drying ooze at him and kept walking.

"A question?" I inquired.

"HEY! GET BACK HERE!"

I shot another blast of mega muck over his snout. The stuff was too toxic for me to risk using on organic targets, but when would I need to do that when there were guys like Rexxon? I had to pay him back for all of the grief he gave me in the game somehow.

"What was that?" she asked.

"Sweeping up the place. What was your other question?"

"If you do not identify as a former Metal Sonic, what makes you what you are?"

I frowned. The mouth on my face plate served no practical purpose, but my smart metal constitution allowed me to fabricate all sorts of things on the fly. A mouth was easy, and it still felt weird not to have one.

"I've been over this with your friends, Nicole." As well as that annoying skunk I wanted to turn into a fur hat. "Appearances notwithstanding, I'm decidedly not one of Robotnik's tinker toys. May I ask what brought this on?"

"You are the only first artificial intelligence I have had comms access to and would wish to have a conversation with."

What, she was lonely? I felt kind of guilty for dismissing Nicole as a glorified user interface for a supercomputer, when she clearly had a lot more going on under the hood. Another half-wrecked badnik pounced down from its ceiling perch, this one a hissing spider tank with Robotnik's face and a tail-mounted laser cannon.

>SELECT: PLASMA PULSE
>SELECT: BUMPER SHIELD

"I'm flattered, but whether I count as an artificial intelligence or not remains the million-mobium question." I took shots at the badnik's limbs with one arm and deflected lasers with a star-emblazoned shield on the other. "Am I a human whose mind was uploaded into the body of a robot, or a power gem that was cut in such a way as to think it was me?"

"What is a 'human'? You have used the word in the past, but I do not know what it means."

I ran up to Scorpius and knocked his metal teeth out with a swing of my bumper shield. The rest of the badnik went reeling, its twisted limbs landing in a heap over the rails.

"An overlander, if you prefer. Robotnik got his hands on a power gem with 'me' etched onto its surface, and he plugged it into his robot without reading the fine print. I took over from there."

The power gem in my orgone fusion engine thrummed from the burst fire. That green hunk of rock was the only thing keeping me alive. A scratch on my Grease record was unfortunate; a scratch on the mineral with my soul written on it was unacceptable. As I was more interested in dodging death than emulating Sonic, I was free to mix and match schematics from across the Metal Series until my core was protected with enough composite plating to shrug off anything short of the Eclipse Cannon. The final result of my retooling was that I was now a steel juggernaut over twice Sonic's size. The fact that I could still move like a rocket with a running start was a side benefit.

"Do you know why your personality matrix was encoded into the crystal lattice of the power gem? Or how it entered Doctor Robotnik's possession?"

"As much as I'd like to know, I don't have a clue. Did Heavy and Bomb get these kinds of questions?"

I should talk to those guys more. Heavy was a real gentleman. He insisted that I be given a chance to help the good guys if he and Bomb could, which stopped Knuckles and Mighty from punching my lights out. I had no idea what was going on in Bomb's robo brain, but he was probably on the level?

"Yes," she replied earnestly. "Heavy and Bomb were robots who turned against Robotnik of their own free will, and power gems are believed to be involved in the process of those free wills manifesting. In debriefings with the Rebel Underground, they have described your situation as similar, but unique."

"Is that a thing power gems are known to do?"

"Data is insufficient, as power gems are less stable than chaos emeralds, and are therefore harder to predict. Causing spontaneous sapience is something power gems are now known to do."

I dismissed my weapons and stopped at a large terminal that Sonic must've sped past before he could think to bulldoze it. Extending a footlong data spike from my arm and jamming it into an exposed port, I quickly analyzed that most of the contents on the hard drive were inaccessible. Possibly fried.

If I couldn't get this working, this whole excursion could be a bust. At this point, there was no harm in asking for help.

"Nicole, if I sent you the schematics of a Robotnik computer that's been damaged, could you tell me a way to retrieve the contents or get it working again?"

"Certainly. Please send me the data."

I imagined that I would have blinked if I still had eyelids. That was easy.

"Thanks, Nicole."

I transmitted what scant information I could. A few seconds later, she provided detailed instructions on how to carefully remove the terminal's casing and interface with the data I needed on the drive directly. I had a lot of mechanical know-how saved in my knowledge banks, but this was far beyond what I could come up with on my own.

"You appear to be at Mt. Mobius. Would you like my assistance in reactivating the geothermal generators of the Veg-O-Fortress?"

"Nicole, were you able to figure all of that out from the tiny packets of data I sent?"

"No. You left your GPS on and have been transmitting your location to me."

I turned my location off.

"Aheh. Now that you mention it, I could use a hand putting this place back together."

"I do not have hands. Can I still help?"

"I don't see why not."

The next couple of hours were spent listening to Nicole talk me through the arduous process of repairing the critical infrastructure of the volcano base with only the other pieces of junk that were around. Once I had the hang of things, Nicole filled the air space with stories about what her friends got up to when they weren't fighting for their lives. Teenage gossip wasn't exactly riveting, but I let her talk. She obviously needed someone to hear her out. By the time we were able to get the pumps online and drain the interior of the base, I had a much better grasp of Nicole's emotions as they carried through her vocoder. Her genuine voice.

"Thank you again for the help, Nicole. I don't think I could have figured any of that higher-level engineering on my own."

"It was no problem! We should do this again sometime. When will you be converting another former asset of the Robotnik Empire?"

"You don't need to wait for me to do that if you just want to talk," I replied.

"I see. Then I would like to do this another time. Sally needs the radio. Goodbye!"

"See you later, Nicole."

>END CALL

Nicole was a good kid. I'd have to get her an actual body for her birthday. Like an Auto Automaton shell that she can pilot remotely and better interact with her friends. Or a bomber plane, though that be my own bias bleeding through.

I dialed up another number on my contacts. Heavy picked up on the first couple of rings, his boisterous tone nearly knocking my antenna loose from the volume.

"Good evening, my fellow goodnik! How are your salvaging efforts at the old volcano base?"

I put my receiver back in place and turned his volume to the lowest setting before 'mute'.

"N-Not too bad, Heavy. In fact, if you're interested in breaking out the old repair-bot protocols, I've got a real fixer-upper that might be up your alley."

"That's splendid! Capital! What do you say, old chap?"

"Ping!" chimed Bomb.

"I couldn't agree more! It sounds like a job for the Mechanix!"

"Ping ping!"

"Verily! We'll put together a shuttle and make our way over there, post haste!"

"I appreciate it."

>END CALL

My final task was to climb down the levels of the Veg-O-Fortress until I reached the gutter where I left Rexxon and Scorpius.

"You!" Rexxon called out to me. His jaw strength was a lot higher than I thought for him to be able to chew through that Mega Muck. "You're not Sonic at all!"

"No kidding."

I walked closer to them. Scorpius hissed at me again. Could he not talk?

"What are you gonna do to us?" Rexxon asked.

>SELECT: METER WRENCH
>SELECT: SLICER BLADE

"A repair job." My arms became a giant wrench and a mantis blade that went through the painstaking process of cutting Rexxon loose and reattaching the parts I detached Scorpius. "You two look like you could use a visit to a mechanic."

"Why're you helping us now, when you tarred me and beat the tar out of him?"

"It occurred to me that I'll need robots to guard the base while I'm away. You're both already familiar enough with this facility that I'm willing to renew your lease on life. Any questions?"

Rexxon shook his head.

"No questions. I'm in." Scorpius let out a horrid screech. "Scorpius says he's in too."

I finished my spot repairs and let them go to their assigned areas until the Mechanix arrived.

"Excellent. My name's John, and I'd like to welcome you to the Goodnik Horde."

- -

Spoiler: Author Notes / Lore

This is the first "What If" chapter of Ruby Haze! Should it not have been made clear before, nothing in this chapter has occurred (or is occurring) in the same universe as the numbered chapters. Metal Sonic Jazz and any other bonus chapters should be considered as taking place in their own, hypothetical universes.

This SI's Metal Series body combines features from the Metal Sonic, Mecha Sonic, Silver Sonic, and the ambiguously canon Mecha Sonic Model No.29, or Rocket Metal. Most of his weapons and attachments are borrowed from Robitnik's disparate inventions or other badniks, with a dash of Mega Man for texture.

This chapter also doubles as a tribute to Sonic Spinball. Why not, really? I had to set the chapter somewhere.

 

[weredrago2]

Ruby Haze
Chapter 17: Crystalline Methodology

It's been said that the human brain prefers patterns and routines to spontaneity. New things take time to comprehend. Setting up a schedule would, at least in theory, reduce stress and reallocate that processing power to where it could be better spent. The craziest shakeups to the status quo could be survived and managed if there was time to better understand them.

Time wasn't a luxury on my side. I couldn't take a vacation in the middle of our battle against Robotnik's forces to decompress and compartmentalize everything being thrown at me, but I had enough self-awareness to recognize that I was fraying around the edges. The Phantom Ruby was reactive to my mental state, if not psychoactive. I already had high blood pressure and anxiety before all this started; I could and would lose control again if I didn't find a way to keep my innumerable stressors under control.

The name of the game was to adapt or go crazy. As going crazy wasn't in anyone's best interest with a WMD strapped to my hand, I forced myself to create a routine out of the extremely volatile, unpredictable, and chaotic career of being a freedom fighter.

My mornings began at midnight, when I would assist the night watchmen in monitoring Deerwood Forest for threats while the rest of the freedom fighters rested. It was now solidly winter, and the cold had a chilling effect on our forward momentum. The season would be one of rest, recovery, and playing on the defense. The villagers we'd taken under our wings could hardly farm, so they foraged for whatever they could find to supplement their diets of meted-out rations without drawing the notice of badnik patrols. That diet would have included meat from hunting and livestock, if the mobini hadn't developed fascinatingly annoying behaviors to avoid such a fate.

A bright blue raccoon poked its head out of the evergreens, interrupting my train of thought. It began to approach the treetop platform I'd been standing at. Without any goading or provocation from me, the raccoon got close, started to wag its tail, and let out a sorrowful whine. Its big eyes bored into the dried apple pastry in my hands, which was a significant step up from the culinary act of desperation that was hardtack.

"Go away," I said without malice. "I'm an apex predator."

The raccoon called my bluff. It sensed I wouldn't cause it harm, and refused to budge. He kept staring at me until I tossed the critter the rest. Satisfied, the tiny raccoon chewed up the ersatz Pop-Tart, gave me a hug, and scampered away back into the woods.

I let out a weary sigh. More mobini would come back later and do the same thing, scoping out the saps who wouldn't turn them into stew and guilting them into giving away food instead. This adorable freeloader had developed a taste for MREs, and learned to wait until Figment was away to avoid getting squawked at. Other creatures have taken to moving into a warm home until the weather was more favorable, practically domesticating themselves. If only irksome animals were my greatest concern.

A few minutes later, my familiar arrived from his sweep. I analyzed the forest with my crystal ball, while he got a deeper look through the trees.

"See anything?" I asked.

Figment shook his head. He didn't see anything out of the ordinary. I knew what he saw, but I had to ask. Since he also saw what I saw, I knew that he had consciously opted not to mock me for once again being taken for a sucker by that raccoon. It was the dead of night, and we'd see the light of the flamethrowers coming from Snottingham by now if the super badniks were on the move.

A peaceful silence reigned for the period of time that followed, so I took out a book to better pass the time. It was a thick, aged grimoire, with a black cover and yellow pages. The Ars Ixia sat heavy in my hands, the weight from what almost seemed to be more than the physical volume of the contents would imply. It took many cold, dark hours of solitude for me to make any progress in deciphering the secrets within.

In hindsight, I don't know why I was expecting this to be a technical manual for learning magic. The Ars Ixia was the kind of reading material that got mobian witches invited to Burning Man, Salem-style, encouraging its jealous processors to make it about as easy to sink your teeth into as a cement éclair. Large sections of the book were too damaged to be legible, and what parts of the cryptic manuscript I could read often discussed concepts I lacked a background knowledge to fully grasp the subtleties. In spite of these setbacks, I was able to identify that the parts I could get were of critical importance.

The basic principles of these Ixian arts are derived from the very essence of nature. Earth, Water, Air, and Fire. With mastery over the elements of Mobius comes the mastery of chaos itself. Chaos is power, controlled by your will. With a deep power stone in your possession, the gateway to the crystalline magicks becomes open.

The grimoire echoed the sentiments of Friar Buck's holy book, with a more pragmatic edge to its doctrine. I initially dismissed their description of the classical elements providing the foundation for form beyond the primordial chaos as figurative and allegorical, but this cast a couple of the tricks I've been pulling off in a new light.

Blasts of ruby-red Fire. Strength and toughness of the uncompromising Earth. Ethereal flight across the Air. Now, I have flexibility like Water. Even if it was a stretch.

It also confirmed that I had been using the Phantom Ruby to skip the entry-level magic and jump straight to the extremely dangerous stuff the entire time I've had it. The "crystalline magic" was the expression of the fifth element, harnessing the raw chaos of the universe through a "deep power stone". The grimoire was scant on what that field of magic actually entailed, but my illusions, hypnosis, and crystal constructs had to come from somewhere. Chaos manipulation was being hyped up in the book as a discipline on the arcane deep end, and I'd been doing it from day one.

Perhaps that's why using some powers with the Phantom Ruby felt more taxing than others? A high amount of inexperience leading to a lot of energy going to waste? Did I already count as having a deep power stone, or would I have to keep searching for a real chaos emerald in order to increase my output?

Past the various rites and incantations, there were also detailed illustrations of mythological creatures. These diagrams were more akin to an old encyclopedia on natural history than the fanciful portraits in Amy's story books. The most striking of them were depictions of chao-like fairies, fire-breathing dragons, and colorful, fearsome ogres that invoked the imagery of viking raiders. The spikey barbarians also looked a lot like zeti, if filtered through who knew how many centuries of misinterpretation.

Are zeti merely myths here? Or actual beings that faded into legend?

I rolled my eyes at a drawing of a black and red ogre kicking a puppy, a jagged grin scrawled across his face.

That settles that. The only remaining question is if the Ogre's Causeway in the north is somehow linked to the Lost Hex.

Eventually, the arcane lettering started making my eyes hurt. I put the book away and continued experimenting with the apprentice evocations. I could have done this and the crystal ball scrying indoors, but I didn't want to shut myself out from the outside world. Again. I short-sightedly asked Figment to start pecking me if it looked like I was isolating myself from the others, and boy did he relish the opportunity. The devious bird wouldn't take "I changed my mind", "you can stop now", or "stop yanking my hair because I don't know when I'll start losing it" as viable answers.

Practicing magic from the ground level was a struggle, as I had to reject the glittering pink constructs of the Phantom Ruby in order to learn the fundamentals. As such, I kept things simple to start with. Taking a note from Avatar, I adjusted the way I moved while trying to conjure the different elements. A firm, rigid stance as I lifted stones, a fluid posture while melting snow back into water, more flowing motions while summoning a light breeze, and then I dropped all of that so I could light the pipes and cigarettes of the night watchmen without looking like a weirdo.

I wasn't sure if the motions themselves were doing anything to assist me, but they helped reorient my mind towards the ideals of each element. Switching gears as cleanly as possible. It took painstaking effort to work backwards. Unlearn old habits. All so I could gradually untether the different aspects of my magic from the glittering pink constructs generated from the Phantom Ruby. Breaking the quintessence up into the base four.

After a while, the other stiffs on the graveyard shift stopped reacting when I would flex my spellwork to pass the time.

♦ 30

This new form of magic I was exploring was intellectually stimulating, though I doubted these cantrips would do more than distract a badnik for a few seconds before they tried caving my head in with a laser-tipped mace. I'd need a lot more time or raw power than I had for the elemental spells to do anything more than that. Like always, the Phantom Ruby did the bulk of the heavy lifting. Without it, I couldn't start as much as a spark.

When the sun rose, I closed my book and observed the changing of the guard. They'd need me in Sylvania soon, while Figment would stay here in case of an emergency. I spared the Ars Ixia one more inquisitive glance before depositing it back into Null Space.

I suppose I'm some kind of lucky not to have done myself in with a hex gone awry. At least getting my hands on one of these was easier than I thought it'd be.

- - -

"Can I read your fortune? Please?"

My first thought upon finding out that Amy was holding the genuine book of magic hostage in exchange for me spending time with her was that I probably could have avoided this. Amy was trying to hand it to me before the Leonus supply drop, and then later realized this was a more clever way to get what she wanted.

I couldn't be mad. Not just because I appreciated her sharpened bargaining skills. She was being really helpful, plucking this book out from wherever she found it, and this was how I could repay the favor. Was I really so busy that I couldn't spend a few minutes indulging her? That it would somehow cause me harm?

"Pretty please, Mister Wizard?"

I thought about mobians being roboticized on assembly lines and megafactories churning out toxic smog, then chucked those thoughts out. I couldn't be everywhere at once, and Rob had all but ordered me to take a break from field activity since I told him about how thoroughly unrelaxing my trip went. So I did have time for Amy today.

"Okay," I conceded. "You can show me my fortune."

Besides, I couldn't say no to those eyes.

"Woohoo!" Amy threw her disheveled deck of tarot cards into the air, and then scrambled to pick them all up again. "Follow me!"

Once I'd said yes to getting my future read, Amy led me to her room, which had the windows covered with blankets. The only light inside were a dozen candles she set up to enhance the atmosphere. Amy had me sit at a wooden chest she'd put a cloth over, and from the other side she was busy at work reshuffling the cards.

"Have you had your fortune read before?" she asked.

"Not really," I answered. JRPGs didn't count. "How's it work?"

She lit up when I said that, and began shuffling more dramatically. The cards were of varying conditions, colors, and stylings. I got the impression that she had to scavenge her cards from whatever loose ones she could find, until she was playing with a full deck.

"First, tell me your problem!"

"My problem?"

"Yeah! If you have a problem, the cards will show the way! So, what is it?"

I didn't know where to start.

"How about we let the cards decide?"

She beamed at my answer.

"Okay! I'm going to do a three-card spread! One for your past, one for your present, and a card for your future! Then we'll know what your problem is, and how we're gonna solve it!"

Amy tossed down the first card, which bore the picture of a compass on a map. I don't think I've seen that card before. Are the arcanas different here?

"What's that?" I asked.

"This card's a good one! It's about visiting new places, starting new journeys, and meeting new people! Pretty cool, huh?"

"So my past involved me going somewhere new by surprise?"

Was I reading into that too much? Even with all of this literal, bona-fide magic I was dealing with these days, I didn't want to become too susceptible to magical thinking. It was still a bit eerie for my first card.

She eyed me suspiciously.

"Are you sure you didn't do this before?"

"Sorry, sorry. Carry on."

Satisfied with my answer, Amy drew the next card. On it was a glossy, green emerald. She frowned, realizing that the gem should be facing me and not her.

"That's weird. The Master is for strength, control, and confidence. What's a card like that doing in reverse for your present?"

"Beats me." I tried to give a noncommittal shrug, and Amy gave me a look I couldn't place. We said nothing for several seconds. "Did you want to draw a new one and try again?"

She shook her head with conviction.

"No way! The cards are never wrong! This is the same deck that revealed to me that I'd meet Sonic the Hedgehog, and that one day he'd marry me!"

I opened my mouth to introduce her to the concept of confirmation bias, but opted against it. This was her moment, so I'd let her have it.

"You are the card expert."

"That's right! Don't worry, Mister Wizard! We'll find a way to fix your problem in no time!"

She drew the third card, which bore a group of mobini in a circle, holding hands, surrounded by a giant heart.

"What's this one?" I already had a guess as to what it was about on the image alone.

"This card is my favorite! It's about community, friends and family! People you trust to have your back!"

"I… see."

Amy struck a dramatic pose.

"I know you came from a different place, and you haven't felt like you fit in, but that's okay! I believe in you, and Cousin Rob and everyone else believes in you, so you can believe in yourself, too!"

I blinked.

Did she just…?

I let myself smile for once. She was supposed to be the heart of her team, so I couldn't be too shocked she suspected I was going through something.

"Heh. Thanks, Amy. I appreciate it."

"You can count on me!" She picked up the magic book from her bed, and spun around in a twirl, which caused her to smack me in the face with it at full force. "Oops!"

- - -

I clutched my head. As it turned out, my future had a couple more headaches in it.

"Pick up yer sword, drood!"

While I was away in Efrika, the Lops of Clan Argyle had adapted to their new warren the best they could, digging into the hilly area around the old castle grounds. I didn't know what her status was before they were attacked by Robotnik's forces, but Lady Finella has been the undisputed clan chief since they resettled. When she wasn't busy caring for her family, Finella insisted that she be the one to handle my lessons in swordsmanship.

"Sure, sure," I said groggily. I got off the ground with a grunt, and picked up Morglay from the ditch the sword fell into when it last got kicked out of my hand.

"Good. We ain't yet done wit 'yer trainin'!"

In Lady Finella's own words, Rob O' the Hedge was "a touch too soft", and Monsieur Chat "swings like a wee lass". I had to admit, neither of them had the ideal skill set to train me with a heavier blade. Nor did I imagine Chat would consider it a good use of his time.

Naturally, Finella had me perform our training duels with the real sword I'd be using in combat. I went at her again, a bit more cautiously than before, and the end result was the same. The battle-hardened lop rushed past my guard and knocked me over.

♦ 25

"Yer far too careful," Finella chided. "Yer big n' strong, so what're ye holdin' back fer? Put yer back into it!"

We began again. If my last couple of battles have proven anything, it's that I can't always shy away from close combat. Nor should I, with my augmented biology putting me at an advantage against regular mobians and the weaker badniks. High-powered ruby blasts were too draining to abuse. More recently, several of my challengers have had more than enough armor or mobility to make picking them off at a distance easier said than done.

"Keep yer focus!"

Getting frustrated, I fought more aggressively, putting Finella on the backfoot. I didn't want to put all of my strength behind a sword swing, in fear of taking things too far, so I summoned my extreme gear shield and pushed her away. The extra reach and momentum from my extending arm caused her to go hurtling back into a snowdrift. Instead of falling through, she landed on her feet atop it.

While holding a claymore. How'd she manage that?

"Aha! Now we're talkin'!"

Before Finella could lunge at me, the duel was interrupted by an armored truck tearing up the ground in our direction. The swordswoman and I dodged out of the way, while the heavy offroader kept going. I flew after the runaway vehicle, which was moments away from slamming into one of the stone pillars around the castle. I could see the lop inside of it, a young man that had clearly freaked out and forgotten how to drive.

I didn't want to wreck the truck or the driver. Without a lot of time to do anything too elaborate, I got back in front of the truck and dug my heels in. With pink spikes shooting down my legs, I pushed as hard as I could to stop it.

I'm as strong as I need to be, and I need to be strong enough to stop three tons of truck!

The force field protecting my body curved around the vehicle, giving me the leverage I needed not to be sent over, under, or through it. The ground I was standing on was still covered in icy dirt and slush, so we skidded until the crystal hands I shoved inside the car pushed the rabbit out of the driver's seat.

♦ 20

The hands took control of the vehicle, heading off a head-on collision. I let out an exhalation of relief when it came to a complete stop. One of the hands I made tossed me the keys before I cast them all away, and I investigated the lop inside to see if he was still with us. Finella and a few of the other lops came around to check what happened.

"Kinney!" Finella said as she rushed over to him, her usual rough tone completely vanished. "What'n the Walkers happened? Are ye hurt?"

"A'hm awright, Finella," he said in a daze. "Jes' lost control o' the crazy thing."

Upon confirming he was in one piece, Finella went from hugging Kenny to throttling him.

"Then what th' heck did ye think yer doin', givin' me a heart attack?!"

Ah, there it was. Seeing that nobody got hurt, Finella started chewing him out and threatening to restrict him from driving anything with more than a single wheel. As she was currently indisposed, the middle-aged lop with the mutton chops and walking stick walked up to me. He was Finella's right-hand rabbit. I believed his name was Lennox?

"Thanks again fer having Clan Argyle's backs. Think we could bother ye one more time to get that thing back to its shelter?"

I opened the door to the truck and adjusted the seat for my height.

"Need a ride?" I offered, taking note of his limp. Lennox accepted.

The drive to the stack of storage containers we've been using as an improvised garage wasn't too long. The truck was a big and armored beast, giving it some protection in case the passengers ran into some trouble. Though if they ran into a lot of trouble, the plan was to turn around and keep driving until they lost it.

"I hope the other people we're training to drive are having an easier time of it," I said, to ward off the silence. This model didn't come with a radio that wasn't already ripped out.

"We're gettin' the hang of it, Drood Scarlet. Ah've been plannin' to get more time… behind the wheel?" I nodded. "Behind the wheel, once time allows. Bein' able to operate one… it helps me feel like ah'm doin' my part again."

Lennox's sentiment was, sadly speaking, not an uncommon one. Not everybody who was wounded in the frequent hit-and-run skirmishes made a full recovery. I knew that the Mercians' grasp of medicine was much better than ours around the same time. It's just that they were outmanned, outgunned, outarmored, and running on a shoestring budget. Mobius didn't have beasts of burden, outside of a few apocryphal descriptions of creatures in distant lands, so being able to drive the vehicles and fire mounted weapons would give those who had been rendered unable to help otherwise a fighting chance.

Unless…

Figment's suggestion that I just fix them still rang in my mind. It would be crossing a line I didn't think was ready to cross, but at this point, did I have the right not to cross it?

"Somethin' on yer mind, lad?"

I blinked. Lennox and I were outside the garage, idling. The scrappy motorpool across from the Sylvan valley was managed by my new hyena hirelings, who were enthusiastic about putting together vehicles that would see some action against the badnik horde. I wasn't surprised that most of them stuck around, since I was paying them, but I was surprised at how many of them made overt oaths of loyalty after witnessing my takedown of the Fearsome Foursome. Maybe it was a holdover from their gang?

I shook my head. Finella was right about me not being able to keep my head on straight.

"Sorry. Just tired. I need to stop by the Lake of Rings for a bit, but after that, I'd be happy to help you get some practice with one of the smaller cars we got."

"Then haste ye back, Sir Drood. Ah'n git some rest when ye can."

"Thanks."

I left the truck back at the garage and headed for the Lake of Rings, which lay deep in the sunken remains of Sylvania Castle. Being far less afraid of the dark, tunnel collapses, or drowning than when I started, I took a plunge into the water and made my way through the murky depths. The waters surrounding the castle were surprisingly warm, in spite of the cold that had struck the rest of the country. That warmth became stronger as I reached the breathtaking grotto that had formed in the castle interior. It was almost like a natural hot spring, though the temperature never reached the point where it burned the skin. Instead, the touch contact of the power rings were incredibly relaxing.

♦ 21

I found this place after a few more explorations of the castle. I used the rings to recharge my batteries, so to speak, taking advantage of the silence to clear my mind while I was at it. However, each time I took a dip to replenish my energies, the waters had less rings to give. Considering that the one near Knothole manifested about a ring a day in the cartoon, I didn't until recently stop to consider that these ones could be a limited resource. Unlike in the games, these rings didn't exactly stay still for me to count them, leaving me at a loss to count how many were left. It was possible that the only indicator I'd get was when the grotto froze up or went completely dry.

The part about trying to relax also never worked. At the back of my head, I felt like a greedy dragon, hoarding all of this wealth that didn't belong to me. All of this magical might at my fingertips, and I couldn't help anyone with it.

Powerful and helpless. A real losing combination.

- - -

I knew going into the medical tent would be a misstep. A mistake. Then again, I never took anyone's advice. Why would I start taking my own?

The first thing I noticed when I entered the tent was the smell. The interior reeked of medical poultices, a sweet scent from the honeyed mead used as a sterilizing agent, and the odor of there not being enough of either to go around. Next, were the sights. Illuminated by candlelight, I could see two rows lined with wounded soldiers covered in cotton gauze, with scarcely any room left between them. The nurses that I could see were almost exclusively, tending to the mounting wounded the best they could.

I heard several gasps of fright as I entered, from the nurses and soldiers who were awake enough to register my appearance. My glowing eyes and figure, in the dark of the early morning, must've conjured the menacing image of a SWATbot. Alternatively, my very presence, as myself, was dredging up old fears of the Overlanders that were never quite put to rest. I removed my hat and worked a minor illusion to try and dampen the effect.

"Ees there something I can help you with?" an older goose nurse not-too-kindly asked. I could tell the others were deferring to her. She also didn't seem to be one of my fans. "I won't have you frolicking around here, causing a disturbance without a good reason."

I opened my mouth to try and formulate an answer when someone interrupted.

"Oi! Lay off the bloke, Bertha!"

Turning around, I could see a grizzled Arthur Boar hobbling towards me on crutches. One leg was covered in a splint and thick bandages, focused around his thigh. Hamstrung was the first thought that came to mind, followed by guilt that I actually thought that.

"Arthur," I greeted more quietly, trying to minimize the amount of noise I was making. "How have you… been?"

Was that really the best I could come up with to say to a guy that'd been mauled by a super badnik? "How've you been?"

"Could be better," Arthur said with a grunt. "Gilbert! The wizard's here!"

Bertha Goose looked like she was about to battle ax him for getting out of bed, but Gilbert Woolhand went to her and smoothed things over. The ram was the only male nurse I could see. One of his forearms was wholly covered in wrappings, hand included. He could walk, though I could tell he was as exhausted as Arthur. Not wanting to cause further trouble, we left the tent, and I set a few chairs I had floating in Null Space.

"Hail and well met, John. How fared your travels to Leonus?"

"Smooth sailing. Nothing I couldn't handle."

We passed the time catching up, with me glossing over the worst of it. They could use some good news while they recovered from their run-in with the Hey Ho. A mini-boss from Sonic & Knuckles, and a lethal deforesting robot here. If Sonic could take something like that on in eight hits, then I could've done the same.

But I wasn't here.

"Let's stop with the beatin' around the bush," Arthur said finally.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

I was expecting what he was about to say next, and I still wasn't ready when he said it.

"Wizard, we've got a boon to ask of ye."

"Arthur, no," Gilbert pleaded. He then stood up, which only incensed Arthur more.

"Why bleedin' not?! We know what he did to that bird!"

We all knew what this was about. It'd be cruel to make him spell it out in so many words.

"Arthur, I don't know if I can heal the kinds of injuries you have," I said apologetically.

They had the kind of injuries that I didn't think he or Gilbert would be recovering from any time soon. It might be a few months, if not years, until they were fighting fit.

If they ever healed at all. With the severity of their wounds, it was just as likely they wouldn't be seeing another day of action for the rest of their lives.

"Have ye even tried? We've been put up for weeks!"

"Of course I haven't tried! Figment's a mutant because of me! How am I supposed to know what that'd do to a mobian?"

Arthur rose from his chair, actively fighting off attempts from Gilbert and I to help him with his crutches.

"Then let me be your test of it! I ain't doing much else like this, am I?"

"Ye cannot ask this of Sir Scarlet if he isn't ready!", Gilbert said morosely. "He is not yet ready!"

The suggestion I would heal them when I was ready read loud and clear. No doubt the idea to ask had crossed his mind after weeks of waiting for a recovery that might never come.

"I don't know if I can heal anybody! I'm not a doctor!"

Arthur pointed one of his crutches at my chin, accusingly, putting himself at risk of falling over to prove how desperate he had become.

"If you're not a doctor, then we'll take a miracle worker! Just wave your arms and make one happen! Do ye really think at this point that I care about the costs? Name your price!"

"Arthur, it could kill you," I hissed.

Arthur Boar whirled around, nearly striking me with his crutches.

"Maybe I'd rather be dead than dead weight!" the pig shouted as he trundled away.

"Arthur! Where are you going?"

"If you're serious about helping us, then let me know when you're willing to man up!"

I watched him limp off, back into the medical tent. I told myself that I couldn't do anything more to help him.

Another lie. I could go in there, right now, and roll the dice on all of their lives.

"He doesn't mean that," Gilbert said to break the silence.

We both knew he did, and that Gilbert was holding out hope that I'd change my mind later down the line.

"I know," I eventually replied. I handed Gilbert a ring. To his good hand. "See if this helps."

He nodded, somberly.

Ultimately, their magic wouldn't lift a finger without a practitioner to direct it.

- - -

♦ 30

"Why?" I asked myself, more than the rings. "If I can't work up the nerve to help, then why am I even here at all?"

I worked in public health. I did first aid training. That wasn't nearly enough medical experience to fix traumatic injuries. If I gave the Phantom Ruby the loose direction to heal, would it not be given free reign to make any other changes along the way? I didn't take a Hippocratic Oath, but that didn't mean I wouldn't feel the responsibility on my shoulders if anything went awry.

I also did FEMA training. Disaster response. Disaster relief. Hurricanes, floods. Nothing this big. I was overwhelmed. On another world. Nothing I knew was helping. Without the Phantom Ruby, I'd be dead before I hit the ground.

It all went back to the Ruby. If I didn't have it, I'd be worthless. While I do have it, I need to do something. Without it, what skill did I have that would be useful? Lying through my teeth? How long would that stack of cards last? It never lasted before. Why now?

Why was I still screwing around here, living in the trees, when I could drop an asteroid onto Robotropolis and call it a job well done? Wouldn't that be enough? It'd only consign the robians who were dead in every other sense to their fate. Does that make it okay?

Would that ever make it okay?

Naturally, no one answered.

Then I felt a presence, rippling across the water. Beneath the surface, close to the grotto. Suddenly on my guard, I switched to my extrasensory perception and tried to identify the source of the danger. They were hard to track, until I tuned down my awareness to roughly the amount of vital energy emitted by the average mobian. There.

I was officially fed up. I reached for the mystery intruder with a giant crystal hand and hauled them up in the air inside a massive bubble of pink glass.

I don't know what I was expecting to find inside the bubble. A robot shark? A giant pike? Instead of either of those things, the woman trapped in the glass was a blue-eyed hedgehog with orange quills and teal skin.

"Hey! Let go of me!"

At least, that was her top half. Her bottom half was the yellow-scaled tail of a tropical fish. She swam around the bubble in an irritable stir, like a goldfish in too small a bowl. Certainly not a lionfish, like I thought the last time I saw one.

A genuine merhog. One more cryptid off the Ars Ixia's checklist.

I pinched the bridge of my nose.

"I don't… I can't possibly have time for this."

I probably owed Amy another card reading for being right about the merhogs.

- - -

Spoiler: Author Notes

The Ars Ixia alludes to The Key of Solomon, a Renaissance-era grimoire on sorcery that was purportedly authored by Solomon, and the later The Lesser Key of Solomon that was made in the 1700s. With a bit of Pliny the Elder's Natural History thrown in for texture.

The initial draft for this chapter called for the cards Amy is using to be the conventional tarot cards. By the time I actually wrote it, though, I realized I could use her Fortune Cards from the more recent media instead. It's a shame about the book being delayed. Now I won't know if my guesses were on the money until next year.

This and the next chapter will be touching upon some loose ends I planned to deliver on since Scarlet has returned from his mission abroad. I'll see you next time, with a chapter that will probably be called Third-Degree Burnout.

 

[LORDANTAS]

Nice to see this still being updated hope the next chapter comes soon

 

[weredrago2]

Ruby Haze update! As per reader feedback, Chapter 17 has been updated with an additional over 1000 words! I reckon this should better hold you over until Chapter 18 is completed.

The update also puts it at 5.9k, making it the longest chapter overall! Not what I was going for, but hey! Milestones!

 

[weredrago2]

Ruby Haze
Chapter 18: Edge Cases

In spite of the rocky first contact with the merhog, I was able to get her to calm down once I lowered the crystal bubble and transformed it into an open basin.

"My apologies," I initiated.

The aquatic mobian could now splash out of the tub whenever she wanted to, and I stepped back to give her ample space if she chose to do so. For now, she cautiously didn't. Surprising or not, this unexpected stranger looked more afraid of me than vice versa.

"Who are you?" she asked. "And how did you find this place?"

The merhog's breathy voice and odd, chimeric appearance were familiar. Did I recognize her from something? I was going to ask her a few questions of my own, but one of us had to introduce themselves first.

"I am John Scarlet. Chief wizard in the service of King Robert O'Hedge of Mercia."

She frowned.

"I don't know many of the rulers or lands on the surface."

Clearly, they must not get a lot of news down where it's wetter. I had a hunch that there was one ruler above the waterline she would recognize.

"Let's keep things simple. I'm a wizard, and I am a part of a group of freedom fighters fighting Doctor Robotnik. Perhaps you've heard of him?"

Her teal face got a bit greener around the gills after I dropped that name. With the Central Sea being much smaller and boxed in between the four surrounding continents than the Atlantic Ocean, Robotnik's navy had a much easier time patrolling its waters. Considering the sheer volume of Choppers he had chewing out smugglers and rebels, it wouldn't surprise me if the merhogs got picked up on his sonar.

"We Mertopians have no love for Robotnik! He would have taken over our city years ago if it wasn't for Sonic and Tails!"

I blinked. I knew to expect a few Adventures of Sonic the Hedgehog characters at this point, but really? We're including one-episode wonders, too?

"That would make you… Merna the Merhog, I presume?"

She gasped. "How did you know my name?"

I pointed to my pointed hat.

"Wiz-ard. And you could say that Sonic and I swim in the same circles." Merna was relieved that I meant her no harm, if unimpressed by the pun. "We have a common friend and a common enemy. Tell me, how did you get so far from Mertopia?"

Merna remained a bit skeptical about my intentions, answering the question without completely answering it.

"This place suffered from an earthquake, or some other disaster, many ages ago, opening the catacombs below this castle to the sea. I was exploring them when you caught me."

"You wouldn't happen to know the merhog that I ran into a while ago, would you?" The one that popped my air bubble and slapped me in the face with her tail.

"You snuck up on me," Merna answered with a hint of embarrassment. "I'm sorry. I was more careful with my visits to the grotto after that, in case you held a grudge, having the fish warn me if you were here so I could hide."

I nodded along to Merna's explanation, including the part about her talking to fish. Why not? I had a psychic bond to Figment, and all of the fish were mobini, too. I raised my arm over the waters of the grotto. With a force of effort, I drew a golden ring to my hand.

"Looking for these?" Before she could deny it, I offered the ring to her. "Take it. And a few more. We have enough to spare."

It was close enough to the truth if I was going to get my foot in the door with Mertopia. Stunned, she accepted the ring.

"Thank you, John Scarlet. Our city uses these power rings to keep Robotnik's sea badniks at bay. I had given up hope on being able to collect them from the castle's orichalcum vault before you arrived."

"Orichalcum?" I asked. I almost hoped she didn't mean that vault door I'd been using as a blunt instrument.

"Yes. Legend says our people used the unbreakable metal for tridents and armor in the Forgotten Age, but no one knows how to make it anymore. Your spells must be amazingly powerful to destroy it without a trace!"

Merna did, in fact, mean my fly swatter.

"I have my methods," I said humbly.

Suddenly, I felt a mental tug from the other end of my bond to Figment. Again, the bird really liked to yank my chain. Switching to his vision, I could see that Figment was ushered into one of the reefer containers we've refurbished. The intermodal containers were relatively easy to get your hands on in Leonus. With mobians averaging much smaller than humans, it was my idea to purchase a couple as a stopgap solution to our housing and building shortage. David Dormouse was at a desk, listening to a crystal receiver he used to monitor radio transmissions throughout Mercia.

Figment leaned over to read what David was writing. Numbers? Coordinates? Whatever it was, he seemed pretty rattled.

"Is something wrong?" I heard Merna ask.

I shifted my focus back to her.

"Sorry, I'm needed elsewhere."

I conjured a short stack of rings near the water's edge, and raised my hand to create a portal back to Hideaway.

"Wait! There's something I'd like to show you, before you leave."

I lowered my hand, and Merna jumped into the castle waters with the grace of a dolphin.

"Follow me!"

I followed along by less elegant means, propelling myself through the water with my power. She led me into a dark tunnel I had previously overlooked. When we resurfaced, I walked past a waterfall into a secluded cenote, surrounded by blocky cliffs, fruit-bearing trees, and other forms of vegetation on all sides.

"What is this place?" I asked.

Merna followed me onto the surface, hopping along the wet rocks on her now-rigid tail. It was really uncomfortable to look at, so I stared back towards the new environment. There were no signs of animal life, at first. Then my eyes locked on a pair of white eggs with light blue spots, a yellow hue atop their shells, surrounded by a ring of wildflowers.

I know these eggs.

Several small, round creatures flew in from the bushes and trees to approach us, their heads shaped like large teardrops. Without any fear, or trepidation, one of them got close enough to touch, and a flood of memories rushed back to me in an instant.

I know them.

On an instinctual reaction, I took a ripe, orange fruit that had fallen from the trees and offered it. The chao ate it with gusto, a tiny heart appearing above its head as it did so.

A chao.

My guard was down, because I wasn't expecting to see them. Not here, or now. Once the first cracks came through, it was a deluge that wouldn't stop. Countless hours of care and affection, devoted to creatures that weren't truly real. That was nothing compared to how real they were to me. Now they were here, before my very eyes.

"This is what my people know as a chao garden," Merna said. "They form around lakes of rings, as the creatures are attracted to the clean waters and abundance of magic. As a powerful sorcerer, I must ask you to protect…" She paused. "Are… are you crying?"

I turned away, towards an open area of the garden where I wouldn't disturb them.

Control yourself. Focus on your breathing. Focus on the present. You have work to do.

I recomposed myself and opened a portal to Hideaway. Before stepping through, I charged myself up with rings until I was operating at half capacity. That should be enough, but if anything went wrong, I could just use the rest of my backup rings stored in Null Space.

♦ 50

"Consider the chao garden under my protection."

Merna would have to see herself out. Meeting a merhog would be a lot more exciting if I had more time to lose. I walked through the portal and entered the mission control room.

"Right on time," Fiona Fox said with a sarcastic drawl. She was sitting at a table next to Bean and Bark, across from the Crazy Kritters. The original group had whittled down to Rob, Buck, and David. They were now supplemented by the cybernetic Presto and Cadence.

"Hail and well met, Mister Scarlet!" said Presto and Cadence in unison.

I gave them a polite wave. I exposed no trace of my prior break in composure from moments before. I could worry about the chao garden later.

"What's the situation?" I asked.

"Poor tidings from Sir Bruin's burgeoning resistance cell," Rob said with consternation. While the statement sounded vague, he could only be talking about one thing.

"I repeat, expect two full companies of the mechanical men-at-arms, led by a horde commander each," the unfamiliar voice said. They had a robotic, though discernibly upper-class, British accent. "One is traveling east to burn a swathe across Deerwood Forest, and another traveling south to scour the ruins of Villa Stella."

"That doesn't sound like Bruin transmitting," I said in confusion. Not nearly French enough.

"Yon herald is Chancellor Hood," Rob elaborated. "Former advisor to the throne, presumed lost o'er a decade hence. Sir Bruin was able to locate him thanks to his limited access to the Robotnet, and thine rings have allowed him to regain his past self."

The Robotnet was, to my knowledge, the closest thing Mobius had to an internet. It was a global satellite network that carried data packets to and fro across Robotnik's empire. You had to be a master hacker to sneak past the encryption, or get the passwords from a badnik before the codes were swapped out for the day. Like when the Allies cracked Enigma, we had to be careful about when, where, and how we used intel from it.

"A pair o' companies?" Presto said confidently. "We can bop twenty badniks without breaking a sweat!"

"Presto, I believe you are thinking of a playing company," Friar Buck said patiently.

"What's the difference?" asked Cadence. "The SWATbobbies don't do ten to a company?"

"A SWATbot company has one hundred members," Rob said darkly.

We all stopped to appreciate the severity of what was on the horizon.

"We're gonna need the Maquis for this," I said.

We'd need a lot more than that to ward off two hundred robot stormtroopers, but Doberman's light armored force wasn't remotely ready yet. Using them now would be setting them up for slaughter. We needed to think outside the box, and fast. Trying to get Bruin to call them off was out of the question, when the High Sheriff could overrule and send him to the scrap heap for going on the fritz.

"Aye," said Rob. "Prithee, canst thou summon them from the Outlands for us? Time is of the essence."

"Certainly."

I took a step back and warped my body to the outskirts of Villa Stella.

♦ 47

I took on the guise of a hooded churchmouse and scurried across the city, which initially reminded me of historical paintings of Paris. The wooden cottages and stone buildings that remained standing in the wake of artillery fire had a distinctly Renaissance-period flavor. The rest were crumbled ruins suffering from a decade or so of neglect. Debris spilled onto the cracked and weathered streets, which were overgrown with vines and weeds.

Villa Stella had, for the most part, appeared to be abandoned, after frequent raids on the lingering population undertaken by Barbe Vis. The raids stopped after we changed him back into his old self, but that didn't mean the Mercians felt any safer to walk around in broad daylight. A large, brazen tower in Robotnik's image loomed over the tarnished jewel of the Southern Mercia, its glowing eyes casting a sinister glow through the thick tarp Sir Bruin ordered his bots put over it while the ghastly thing underwent 'seasonal maintenance'.

I took a circuitous route until I could see the pointed arches of the faded green and red cathedral the Maquis were bunkered down in; a last sanctuary from Robotnik. Approaching the back door, I knocked out the first few notes of a tune that sounded an awful lot like La Marseillaise. After a moment, a pair of familiar eyes greeted me at the slit in the door.

"Who ees eet?" asked Fifi the Poodle. Not wanting to waste time, I shed my disguise, causing her to jump back from the door slit. "O-Oh! One second!"

I heard the sound of several locks shifting in and out when the door opened.

"Thanks, Fifi. Is Monsieur Chat around?"

"Yes, but what ees wrong? Did something happen?"

"Not yet, but we're gonna need you and Chat. Fast. King's orders."

We walked through the old church, which had a large and spacious interior. Stained glass windows depicted mobian saints and taloned sigils, though many of them had cracked or been boarded up. I could see refugees huddled on the varied levels of the cathedral, taking advantage of the blankets, cots, and food I got for them. It warmed my heart to see them put to good use, but the looks I got from the ones that would look me in the eye weren't exactly those of gratefulness. It was the same looks I got from Chat: An undercurrent of fear, a distaste bordering on hatred, and reluctant, bitter acceptance.

This went beyond what Robotnik alone took from them.

"Fifi?" I asked quietly. "Robotnik wasn't the one who laid siege to Villa Stella, was he?"

She turned back to me, conflicted, before reluctantly answering the question.

"Oui. Eet was ze Overland, during ze war. I imagine you were but a boy zen, non?" I wordlessly nodded. "I was not very old zen, either.

"So this was… all you've known?"

"Not all. Zer are good memories, too." Fifi raised a hand, presumably to put a hand on my shoulder, when she realized she couldn't reach. She awkwardly put it down again. "I did not ever blame you for zis, John."

I didn't have to look far to find a mobian who did. Monsieur Chat rappelled down from an upper level of the cathedral, landing in front of us. He kept one hand on his rapier, as always, at least when I was present.

"Mister Scarlet. What brings you here?" The question was phrased in such a way as to imply I wasn't welcome in a place of worship.

"Two super badniks, two hundred SWATbots, and half of them are headed here." I kept my response clipped and direct as I opened a portal behind me. This day has dragged on for long enough, and I could use a good fight with robots that had it coming. "Would you like to help us fight them, or will you be content standing there and being snippy with me?"

♦ 42

Fifi stiffened up. Chat glared at me, but said nothing as he went through the portal.

"I shouldn't have said that," I admitted.

"Eet was only a matter of time," Fifi said with a resigned sigh. "Please forgive Chat. He carries a heavy burden on his heart."

"I'll try to keep it professional."

"Thank you, mon ami. Let me get my new gun."

Fifi walked away, only to return with a black, polymer bullpup rifle with a red laser sight. The high-tech heavy weapon was only shorter than her by about nine and a half centimeters, making it look enormous as she marched through the portal with it. That was one hell of a step up from a musket. We'd need the extra firepower.

I walked back to the mission control as Fiona Fox was working through our plan.

"We have enough of a head's up to set up an ambush at these locations," Fiona said as she marked down a pair of locations on a topographic map of Mercia. "Two companies of SWATbots, two super badniks. Here's my idea for what we're going to do about it."

I was initially hesitant about letting a mercenary be involved in strategic operations, but for all of her playing hardball during contract negotiation, the red fox clearly relished the opportunity I was handing her to make the badnik horde bleed. Her gang had proven themselves well worth the money when they wrecked several forts the High Sheriff was setting up in preparation for this inevitable forward push. I didn't know what her issue was with Sonic, but she obviously had a bone to pick with Robotnik, too. Instead of taking the sign-up fee and bolting, she took the initiative. My contribution to this was sharing my crystal ball, giving Fiona and the others additional perspective on where to strike.

Once we were done scrying the would-be battlefield, I leaned down and examined the map more closely; spare game pieces were borrowed from Amy's toybox to mark down who was where. Black checkers and backgammon counters representing the enemy. A white King, a white Bishop, and two white Knights for the Crazy Kritters. A white queen, a white rook, and a green meeple for Fiona's squad. A metal boot and thimble tokens for the Maquis. An old die carved from bone for marking myself.

"Can I switch to the race car?" Bean asked. He appraised his meeple and found it wanting.

"I do not think we have a race car," Rob said, while he checked the bag to make sure.

"If I can't be a car, then can I be the boot?" Bean spun around towards Chat and Fifi. "Hey, let's trade!"

"I am not trading for the meeple," Chat said in a deathly serious tone. "I am the boot."

"Would you like to trade for ze thimble?" Fifi offered.

Bark rolled his eyes. Taking that as a contribution to the debate, Bean shook his head.

"No way! Bark says he thinks thimbles are lame."

Fifi looked scandalized. Bark was about to open his mouth when Fifi barked back.

"Ze thimble ees not lame! You take that back, Monsieur Polar Bear!"

Ah yes, look at us being professionals. I very calmly slammed my hands on the table.

"Guys. Guys. Can we stop being picky about the pieces and focus?"

Everyone stopped squabbling about the dang pieces and nodded. I pointed at the meeple and gave it a zap, making it look like a metal roadster.

"There. Happy?"

"Yep!"

"My gratitude," Rob said tiredly, before returning to the map. "As Fiona Fox has said, we shall strike from these two elevated points. The strongest of us--" he said while gesturing to Bark and I, "--shall assist in setting down fallen logs and boulders for the traps, which shall be supplemented by our new explosives." Bean's eyes lit up at the mention of you-know-what-goes-boom. "When the time arises for us to spring the trap and strike at their armies' flanks, our forces must be evenly split to handle both."

The Outlands team was going to be the Crazy Kritters, the Maquis, and Figment. The Deerwood team was going to be Fox, Bean, Bark, and myself. The bombs and satchel charges, followed by the falling rocks and logs, should thin out their ranks enough that we can take out the rest. If anything went wrong in Deerwood, I'd be there to pull us out with a portal. If anything went wrong on the Maquis side of things, I'd make a portal and we'd jump in to intervene. The tricky part was that I couldn't be in two places at once.

While we had a general idea of what the SWATbots were capable of when fighting in bigger numbers, the giant pair of question marks surrounding this mission were which kinds of super badniks we'd be dealing with once we got there. Not even Bruin was privy to what the High Sheriff got from Robotropolis, outside of their loose categorization as 'high-energy pest exterminators'. There were a smattering of combat models exclusively designated as super badniks, like the Hey Ho, though the High Sheriff could also bring out a boss bot that was a normal badnik ballooned to an enormous size.

No matter what they were, we had to take a gamble on them both being something we could handle. The alternative wasn't worth considering.

Then, if we did it this time, then the High Sheriff would know we can handle it, and double down for the next wave. Then the next. Until we couldn't do it anymore.

This wasn't sustainable. Something was going to give, but it didn't have to be today.

Not if we could hold the line for another day longer.

"John?" Rob asked.

We were outside, on the snow, waiting for me to do the honors and send us on our way. Friar Buck gave me a compassionate look. I took a moment to absorb the rest of my emergency rings, because there was no way I wouldn't need them.

♦ 72

"I'm ready."

I ripped open the two gates, and mentally prepared myself for the next fight of my life.

- - -

Spoiler: Author Notes

The "Robotnet" is a backporting of the Eggnet, Robotnik's communications network that appears in later stories and other media. Before the name "Eggnet" was used, we were already aware that Robotnik (and later Eggman) used satellites to keep in touch with all of his minions. I figured it was called the Robotnet first, and he changed it to Eggnet later.

In the same way that Quart Quartz invoked Quartz Quadrant, Villa Stella is a sendup to Stardust Speedway. I don't know when the idea came to me to merge it with Paris, but Paris is known for having its own famous church and tower. Why not put them together?

Fifi's new firearm is based on the Laser Rifle from Shadow the Hedgehog, which itself resembles the Walther WA 2000. It's a very unique-looking gun that they only made less than 200 of, making it a collector's item that shows up more in fiction than the real world.

 

[LORDANTAS]

Can you explain the reasoning for the Chao moment. I feeli like I'm lacking context for that scene. Was there like a game that let you raise a Chao?

 

[weredrago2]

Can you explain the reasoning for the Chao moment. I feeli like I'm lacking context for that scene. Was there like a game that let you raise a Chao?

Click to shrink...

The chao garden was a major feature in both Sonic Adventure games. I really could not tell you how long I spent rasing up my chao to be the best racers and karate duelists in SA2, outside of "probably more than I played the main game". Which was an ungodly amount of time within itself.

 

[pingas plight]

Will Brassmo the Holy make an appearance?

 

[weredrago2]

Will Brassmo the Holy make an appearance?

Click to shrink...

Sorry, no dice. He's too powerful to be contained in the confines of text.