Well…shoot. I can't really say anything here, other than I'm sorry. This is where you'd usually find me giving an excuse for slacking off (busy schedule, hectic family life, kidnapped by Bowser, etc.), but I honestly don't have one. There is no explanation for the delay other than a combination of writer's block, a horrific lack of inspiration, and flat-out laziness on my part.

In fact, the chapter you're reading here is somewhat unfinished, making up about 75-80% of the chapter I wanted to write. I'm only posting it for the sake of posting something, and just to see if anyone is still interested.

Don't be surprised if it takes another year for the next chapter to come out, although reviews may shorten the wait ever so slightly.

...too late.

He exhaled, forgetting his place for a moment, and slumped in defeat. Disconnected chunks of black plastic sliced through the lining of his gloves, cutting into his hands. This was all that was left of Tails' communicator. The damned thing had burst open from the casing, revealing a veritable Escher painting of disconnected wiring and snapped capacitors. Through the wreckage of what used to be a working radio, Sonic swore he could hear voices reaching out to him…the same ones he knew might be calling his name this very second, seeking a connection which had been rudely cut.

For a moment, time froze in the fierce stare between Sonic and his metallic duplicate, which isolated the two from the carnage formed in their struggle. A curtain of smoke enveloped the two combatants, as hardly a square inch of the once-pristine area remained untouched by Metal Sonic's explosive arsenal. But at last, there was a moment to breathe, free of the steady stream of fire, shrapnel, and near-death. The orchestra of battle went into intermission, its echoes still ringing in Sonic's eardrum. Still, it was nice to be able to hear his own thoughts for a change. Then again, that didn't mean very much when those thoughts mostly consisted of the words "too late" playing on a continuous loop.

Which quickly shifted to "get him".

Still very much compromised by the high-speed collision with solid ground, Sonic's mind continued to send mixed signals, playing a sick game with his sense of direction. He was twisting, spiraling, traveling at a million miles a minute, yet at the same time, going nowhere, for he knew his hands and feet were tethered to the floor. Even the slightest impulse to his eyes sliced and stabbed at his cranium, which with each passing second felt more and more like an overripe cantaloupe which had some things done to it by a sledgehammer, but by now he'd kept them closed for so long he didn't realize the multi-colored morass of noise in front of him was only an illusion. Regardless – once he worked out which way was up - he contracted his left leg and used it along with his right arm to push himself off the ground.

No sooner had he raised his body off the canvas than it slammed back down again, weighed down by a heavy, steel boot.

Urghhh…feels like someone dropped an anvil on me!

Second by second, keeping his body above the floor became more of a struggle. The weight on his back only seemed to grow heavier the more he fought against it. One forearm could only quiver at the sheer effort it took, so he moved his other down for extra support. But it did no good. The shaky foundation looked ready to crumble at any moment.

No…no, come on, you're better than that! Fight through it, Sonic! Fight through it!

But his puny arms could not take the strain, and his tenuous grip gave way. As he collapsed chest-first to the floor, repressed physical torment was unleashed in a firestorm that exploded from his aching calf muscle and raced up his backside, forcing a bone-chilling wail out of his mouth before he even realized the noise had come from him. That did it. No longer could he bottle everything up. He had been sent over the threshold where the deepest of primal urges finally surpassed overcame his will to fight them off.

There was something weighing him down. Metal Sonic stood over the pathetic sight…staring at him…judging him...his titanium foot firmly nailing the hedgehog to the floor.

"So…this is what the self-proclaimed hero of the universe, slayer of gods, savior of time and space, has been reduced to? Hmmph," he said, afterwards doing his best to synthesize the sound of a disapproving sigh. "I must say, I can't help but feel disappointed."

"Urgh...I've gotten out of bigger jams than this!" The words choked, sputtered out of his mouth as he fought and clawed to escape Metal's hold. He had to keep to short, stilted sentences, a sensible balance for getting his burning thoughts out.

Suddenly, a breakthrough. Sonic's glove managed to catch on a random spot on the floor, and saw his chance to propel to it and break free. He gradually swung his one free arm out, too gradually, and that's as far as he got. Metal Sonic swooped on the maneuver and crushed it with the other foot. With the hedgehog back under control, Metal leaned over to face Sonic's ear, in the process driving just a few more pounds worth of pressure into his back.

"You are nothing more than a horsefly who thinks himself capable of slaying a lion," said Metal. "As I see it, you have two choices; surrender to the Eggman Empire or face the inevitable."

Sonic's teeth clenched, as he channeled his own physical torment into seething rage, glaring with such fury that he could almost feel his eyes changing to match Metal Sonic's blazing red. 'Surrender'. 'Inevitable'. Those words tended to have that effect on him...now, of all times.

A subconscious impulse glued him to the floor, sending him on a mental journey to the other side of the ESS-1, and a picture emerged in front of him where there was none before, a picture of Tails and Knuckles' battered and broken forms lying before him, bearing the scars and bruises forced upon him by some unknown attacker.

But that's all it was. A picture. An apparition. They may have been on a distant planet for all he knew. The radio transmission was the only link the three had left to share, and it was gone.

Guys…I don't know if I'm gonna make it out of this one…

He scooped the cluster of metal and wiring from the floor and balled it tight into a trembling fist. As if to block out the voices, he thrust that same trembling fist into the floor, creating a shockwave that tremendous enough to resonate across the ESS-1 and command Metal Sonic's attention.

…but so help me, we're gonna finish this thing no matter what!

The next words passed from brain to mouth like a whisper, but with the ferocity and impact of a knife in the dark:

"You really don't know me at all, do ya?"

Though Metal Sonic had no facial muscles to speak of, Sonic could just tell from body language that he'd gotten on his double's last nerve. He tilted toward the sky, a fist curled in defiance. As if on cue, a thunderclap split the air, and spheres of blinding light emanated in Metal Sonic's palms as he channeled ever-greater amounts of Chaos Energy.

If he had a fighting chance, he had to make something happen now. Just as Metal Sonic put his entire stock of energy into this finishing blow, Sonic shoved himself in a roll toward his left, holding in a scream as Metal - in a last-ditch effort to hold him back - dug his claw-like toes into Sonic's chest, tearing into exposed flesh.

The gamble paid off. He'd forced the mecha-deity into an undignified pratfall.

With momentum on his side, Sonic rolled into a somersault and bounded back onto his feet. Every step he took widened the ever-growing cracks in the foundation that was his body, but he either didn't know or simply didn't care. The weight was now off his back, and it almost felt like he could leap into the air, swing his arms out, and fly. Sweet, sweet mobility, how he missed it so.

A plasma shot flew across his radar, forcing him into a slide that saved his face from extinction...yet plunged his lower body back into a maelstrom of grinding pain. If that was the price he had to pay for mobility, then so be it.

The world flew by in a blur, or at least this cold, gray prison of a world - man, Eggman really needed to vary the color pallette a bit here - and out of the corner of his eye he managed to catch the doppelganger in his moment of weakness. In the nick of time, he transitioned into a twirling handstand, his legs unfolding and spinning like the blades of a ceiling fan, aiming straight for Metal's head.

"Hey...what the-!"

He struck Metal's left hand instead, which did not flinch, but grabbed hold of Sonic's ankle. One wave of the robot's wrist, and Sonic was cast across the room like dirty laundry.

Hmph...not playing games anymore, Metal? Well, neither am I!

With one flick of his leg, Sonic went from tumbling uncontrollably to tumbling with perfect control, recovering with a short, impromptu breakdance routine and finishing with a devastating kick to Metal Sonic's head.

Too devastating. It actually seemed to connect.

At first, Sonic wondered if he'd missed Metal altogether and actually hit a nearby pipe. But after he got to his feet and noticed the fresh, new shoe scuff he'd added to Metal Sonic's shiny gold paint scheme, it all seemed to come together. The aura surrounding Metal Sonic had dimmed, fading out whenever he did anything more energy-intensive.

Just then, the room was set alight in a red glow so intense it forced Sonic to shield his eyes to look up.

When Sonic finally gathered the strength to gaze into the blinding gleam, he noticed Metal just…standing there, bent over, letting the energy channel into his body. A pair of miniature turbines spun in opposite directions, generating light from pure nothingness and storing it as pure energy, until the mechanism burst into life, ready to unleash it all on the hedgehog. When he noticed that the source was the engine contained in Metal Sonic's chest cavity, he engaged his defenses, expecting another pounding.

But something was off.

He stood perfectly still, both feet planted...never leaving the ground, not floating. That couldn't be right, unless...unless he simply didn't have the strength for it.

Yes! I knew if I ran him ragged, he'd run out of juice!

"What's the matter, pal?" asked Sonic. "Gettin' tired?"

As if jolted with a cattle prod, Metal jerked his head toward Sonic, who realized that was probably the only answer he would receive. The glow intensified, and along with it came a high-pitched hum.

A very familiar hum. That laser. Sonic could recognize that sound anywhere.

I guess he's tryin' to go out with a bang!

A single sentence played on a continuous loop in Tails' mind – This wasn't supposed to happen.

The halogen spotlights practically seared into his fur. This was a play he'd never rehearsed for, and yet he'd practically been thrust onto the stage to perform to a packed house. And everyone in the packed house was itching to mow him down if he slipped up. They'd left him nothing. An entire battalion of Egg Gunners closed in on all sides – some forming an orderly division on the ground, others lining the catwalks above, a few even scaling the walls to get a good shot at the hapless fox.

The companionship of his radio earpiece was cold and dispassionate, providing no comfort or answers, only non-stop static. Static bombarded his left eardrum for so long that the sensations of dizziness he felt when taking a step were the only reminder he was wearing the stupid thing at all.

It all seemed so simple before. A race against time, and nothing more. Just find the nerve center of the ship, get inside, and raise hell. No questions, just do it. He knew he might run into some resistance along the way, but he hadn't counted on the possibility of this much resistance. There was no telling how much time he'd have to make up…how much time he'd already lost…how much time Sonic had to spare…

His head tilted toward the sky…more specifically, toward the impossibly-high ceiling that covered it. It was the only place that looked to be bot-free…at least he assumed it was. After all, the logic was airtight. Even if a Gunner was somehow stationed up there, how could it see him from so far away, much less keep a steady enough aim to shoot him down?

It wasn't much, but it was better than nothing. With one massive burst of energy to his tails, he took off, with the resulting wake force knocking a few Egg Gunners to the ground.

He curled his body into a corkscrew loop, rolling himself over to get a better look at his position. A veritable city of lights took shape behind him, hundreds of little specks of light forming one by one, like fireflies dancing in the autumn breeze. Well, except for that one little speck of light rising toward him. Rather quickly, in fact. Uncomfortably so. Enough for him to see the bolts of electricity jutting from it.

Crud. Make that a dozen big specks of light.

Suddenly, Tails knew how his mono-tailed, ground-bound brethren felt during the hunting season. He was all alone, and that made him the perfect target. There was, quite literally nowhere to go but up.

His lungs were fit to blow at any moment, each twist of his tails seeming like it could be the last his system could take, but damn it, he'd just have to outdo his usual best today. If these baddies were packing anything like what Metal Sonic had, he couldn't be a millisecond off. He sliced through the air like a knife through butter, pushing straight upward against gravity with every ounce of energy he had, because if his calculations were accurate—

A balcony railing passed by his field of vision.

Now!

In one massive effort, he flung his tails into reverse and brought them to a gradual stop, curtailing his ascent. With nothing propelling him, he curled into a sudden dive, and not a second too soon. His face scrunched into itself – he couldn't dare look. He could only pray he made the right call. The world around him flashed once…twice.

Then a thunderous smack. Then another, heralding an ear-splitting chorus of metallic clanging above. Tails' heart went up his throat. Was he hit? Was he hit? No…he wasn't.

The sight of the searing, magma-like red stain dripping from the ceiling, still sizzling from the heat of the combined laser blasts, was a stark reminder of what would have become of him had he not been so fortunate. It eventually dawned on him that this was all that remained of a steel beam that once suspended from above.

At the last moment, he revved up his tails again, seamlessly transferring the momentum from his dive into a near-vertical climb, toward the only open space . Great, he thought. You survived that. Now what?

As if in answer, from a shot rang out.

He couldn't see it, couldn't track it, until it was too late. He suddenly fell into a sharp, uncontrollable dive...and as the laser's searing kiss finally started to settle in his tail, he realized why. He'd taken a hit.

He managed to keep his convalescence to a brief yelp before the adrenaline of the moment kicked in. Powered by little more than panic, he reached into his draining reserves for one massive boost from his one remaining tail. Unfortunately, he'd generated more problems than lift. In his compromised state, all he managed to do was send himself careening upside-down, sideways, every direction other than the correct one. If anyone were to ask him how it felt to be trapped inside a juice mixer…yeah, this was probably it.

If this was the Tornado, the alarm would have been blaring already. PULL UP! PULL UP! But by then, it was too late. He'd fallen too far, too fast. He couldn't put in any more power, but maybe if—

Then the floor came out of nowhere and knocked the wind out of him.

Guess not.

Knuckles' face dripped with sweat, flushed by equal parts exertion and rage.

One door. One lousy, infernal steel door stood between him and the closest thing he'd ever have to a child. It sapped his strength, it took his breath, it took every pounding he could give it and practically mocked him.

He practically threw himself back onto his feet, throwing aside some flotsam from the pile of deceased Egg Pawns gathered around his feet. That situation went to hell in a handbasket real fast. At least he learned two things from the experience. 1: Entering the wrong password on the keypad will trigger a sneak attack by specially-placed Egg Pawns and gun emplacements. 2: The password is not "password".

Still, that was all he had in the idea bag until Tails got him through the door.

Where was he, anyway? He really should have called in by now.

Knuckles pulled out his earpiece just to check whether he hadn't accidentally deactivated it. Nope…the light was green. Still on.

He scoffed. "Typical. Of all the times to go radio silent…"

Deep down, he was thankful no one could hear him. He knew that they could've heard straight through the mask he tried to project. The irony was as unavoidable as it was painful. He found himself truly alone for the first time since he boarded the ship. In a way, he'd gotten what he'd wanted.

But at what cost?

Screw it. Being a guardian meant having to make difficult…even borderline illogical choices. It said in the old mantra that Chaos is power…power enriched by the heart. He could recite that mantra from memory, but now was the time to act on it. What the Master Emerald truly needed was an act of selflessness.

It felt wrong to turn away from the Master Emerald's glow when it was so close…separated from him by no more than a thick steel door and a line of encrypted code. But eventually, he wrenched himself away and headed down the corridor.

Hold on, guys, I'm coming!

Then it happened again.

Argh!

Knuckles stumbled, barely regaining himself. Everything went dark in a hurry, and the room spun out of control, becoming little more than a featureless vortex. The faint echoes of machinery and radio static faded out, giving way to the sound of the rustling wind – a vague, nothing sound which signaled that his mind knew to process something, but not exactly what. Both sides of his head throbbed in almost rhythmic fashion, seemingly ready to explode any second.

These pulses…they were worse than ever. The Master Emerald was in pain, and he could feel it. Not only feel it…see it. His eyes were drawn back toward the other side, where a blazing green light shone through the gloom, in tune with the pounding inside Knuckles' skull. Even from behind the thick steel door, the Master Emerald beckoned to its guardian. He tried to take a step, but when took his next one with his leading foot hanging over thin air, he nearly tripped.

This wasn't real. This was only in his head, he'd told himself. He'd been through this very situation time and time again. And yet, he had to ask. What the hell was real anymore?

Ugh…now he could hardly hear himself think.

Real or not…if the concept of pain could be distilled into a single sound, this was it. This…he didn't even know what to call it, this…throbbing in his head that wouldn't go away. It was there one moment, gone the next, then back again, and like clockwork the pattern repeated. Each step was a furious struggle, his better judgement knowing where to turn, but his senses pulling him in different directions. As he edged closer to the gleam, the flux between "searing pain" and "just fine" faded to nothing, and the pounding only intensified, latching onto him, chipping away at his senses like a mad gremlin crawling inside his cranium.

Nope. Not real. Only in his head. Keep moving.

The more he told himself that, the more he was convinced otherwise.

He pulled closer to the noise – if nothing else, to confirm his skepticism. But with each second, it came into focus, and he noted its location on his right. Some kind of impact…could those be gunshots? Punches landing on someone? No…more like metal clanking against metal. Best guess…someone's footsteps. Knuckles got as close as he reasonably could, and tracked the location of the sound. It didn't stay in one place, it was slithering like a snake…tunneling beneath his feet. It had to be on the next floor down.

There it was again. Tap. Tap. Tap.

…Tap.

Yep…those definitely were footsteps. Slow, consistent footsteps. Whoever this was, it didn't sound like they were in any hurry.

That makes one of us…

Sensing Eggman's presence, every light fixture in the room burst into life, bringing into focus the sheer scale of what he had created. The walls were covered in an intricate series of pipes and cables, every single one of them vital to the operation of the ship. They gave off a faint, green glow, normally too faint to have been visible to the naked eye were it not for the ever-present smog giving it something to bounce off. Soon, the majesty of the cosmos would come streaming through the panoramic viewscreen...though for now, he'd have to settle for a view of the sea and the occasional shipping vessel that passed by.

Strange. Somehow this space seemed almost too expansive to fit on a ship this size...and yet still too cramped. Perhaps the tubes were the culprit. They had arrived just last week, after all, and this was the only safe place on the ship where he could store row upon row of cryogenic-stasis tubes.

Speaking of which...

Dr. Eggman paused and turned toward the lines of tubes. There was one more thing he needed to check on.

"Hello? Sonny boy?" he said. "Daddy's home!"

He walked over the capsule marked with the Roman numeral 'I', the only one in operation. Yet more tubes jutted out the sides of each, meant to hyper-accelerate growth by supplying oxygen and water at high enough doses at the proper times. For all his studies and labors, this was his reward.

A shriveled mass of a lifeform grew inside, flaccid tentacles jutting out of the bulbous mass of a body trying desperately to form limbs, its color as pale as cigarette ashes. Eggman's head slumped to his chin, unimpressed with the results. It was just as he'd left it that morning...and the morning before that, and the night after that. He'd hoped he would see some positive growth after a hectic day apart from its master. But one look dashed those hopes.

He tapped on the tube vigorously, waiting for something, anything. Nothing changed...not even so much as a ripple in the standing water.

From a nearby table, he picked up a pen and clipboard and set about marking off all of the project targets that he hadn't come within a country mile of reaching. As he made his way through the list, marking off failure after failure, his nerves frayed.

Grandfather never had it this rough...

"Sir?" asked a muffled voice from afar. Dr. Eggman turned to find his trusty Egg Flapper occupying the space where he'd directed him to go, the glass tube at the very heart of the room. "Shall we begin the experiment?"

Oh! Of course! The...um..."experiment".

In one smooth motion, he tore the sheet off the clipboard, crumpled it, and threw it toward the closest trash can. Turning away, not even taking care to note that his impromptu sky-hook had undershot the basket by twenty feet, he entered the radiation-proof observation chamber. By the time he settled into his seat, he had already lapsed into another episode of "Dr. Eggman's Thinking Out Loud".

"Bah! No matter! After I'm through with the hedgehog and his friend, I'll have all the time in the world to perfect the procedure!"

"Sir, may I politely remind you that Project Beacon is still in an untested state?" asked Flapper.

"Hmm? Oh…yes," muttered Eggman, as he tapped on a touchscreen, cycling through a rather rudimentary menu. Sprawling bulleted lists of flora and fauna from all over the planet were, for the moment, rendered in little more than a white background and the default system font. He was planning to mold it into a sleek and shiny interface worthy of the Eggman name, but Sonic and his annoying friends just had to butt in and ruin his schedule.

If there was going to be a guinea pig for this test, Flapper was the ideal candidate. One of the few remaining holdovers from the Legacy Series, which all drew power from an "organic battery", it was effectively rendered obsolete for battle duty once Dr. Eggman had found a self-sustaining power source. In one stroke, this opened the possibilities for larger and more destructive Badniks...although Sonic and Tails' little jaunt through the middle decks of his ship should have indicated how successful he was on that front.

But Dr. Eggman kept many of the Legacy Series mechs around – or at least the few that hadn't been felled by the hedgehog's foot. Perhaps it was out of a perverse sense of loyalty. Maybe it was his sick version of 'survival of the fittest'. Either way, he bided his time, waiting for the right moment to use them in the field once again. That time had finally come.

"Ah!" He'd finally reached the right selection in the menu.

Theoretically, there was a checklist with scores of other safety procedures both before and after this part, but they'd all become unreadable by this point, obscured by months worth of coffee stains. Throwing caution to the wind, he flipped open a glass box and pressed the silver button encased inside.

The moment his finger pushed down, all electric light in the room dimmed, sprang back into life for a nanosecond, then went out altogether.

Flapper turned upward to watch the spectacle of light above it. Tiny, green bolts of lightning crackled from an orb at the center of the tube, intermittently at first, but becoming more and more frequent...even persistent. As more energy fired through the tube, the bolts connected with each other, forming a consistent pattern which settled in the miniature vaccuum-chamber at the top. The energy only intensified, and chaos collided with chaos to create more chaos. With nowhere else to go, it grew into an unstable vortex looking for an outlet.

This was an inconvenient time for Flapper to notice that the outlet was pointed directly at it.

"Sir?" Flapper asked. "Requesting information on the nature of this experimen-"

Eggman didn't even wait for his loyal servant to finish before pressing the button a second time. The time for questions had long since passed. Had Eggman given Flapper X-ray vision, perhaps it would have been able to see what Eggman saw on his touchscreen.

The target species he'd selected: FLICKY - Flapper's container animal.

Then again, there wasn't anything Flapper could have done about it.

One blast of Chaos Energy from the top of the tube phased through its skin, tearing through every atom of its being. One second passed. There was no movement, no signs of resistance. Two seconds.

The weapon depowered, and one by one, lights returned to the room to revealing Flapper unmoving at the bottom of the tube, reduced to little more than a non-functioning shell - a shell which the Chaos energy had left almost as pristine and new as the moment it left the factory.

But only a shell, with no power. And no power source.

The word, stuck to the tip of the doctor's tongue, fell out with a soft, almost awed whisper.

"Success."

"AAARGH!"

Knuckles fell to his knees. Never before, not during any of the crises he'd dealt with before, had Chaos cried out to him like this.

Thanks for reading, and extra-special thanks if you've followed the story since 2017 and are still around. Be sure to review - it keeps the lights on!

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