It is a beautiful day in Central City. The sky is clear, the sun is shining and flowers are blooming. Traffic is just busy enough so that one is able to drive to all the nice places and have a nice conversation with their loved ones inside the car at the same time. Children are on their way to school, tired but at the same time excited for the weekend that is upon them. Everything is perfectly average; the exact kind of day one would picture when they are asked to describe their ideal Friday.

Jet the Hawk is late to work again.

His wristwatch clings uncomfortably to his arm as he searches for his extreme gear board under the pile of dirty clothes, – something he would have to fix when he wasn't in a hurry – the cracked glass display quietly announcing to no one in particular that the mobian would have around seven minutes to reach his destination. Spiky green feathers are tied into a makeshift ponytail, dark green tips just short of touching his back, soon smushed together without much care after the strap of his goggles wraps around his head.

First came his boots – red with thick white curves running on the sides that had "HAWK" on them with bold black letters. A flame pattern ran along the part that touched his ankle, matching with the ones that stamped his white socks. They were also present on his white gloves with red and black cuffs. The last item left was a gray and red sports jacket with the name of his current sponsors on the back – one of which was the company that made the "not as disgusting as the package makes it look" energy drink that would be his whole breakfast for the day.

Extreme gear in hands, Jet was ready to step outside and face the consequences of his actions – but not really! The board in his hand let out a low hum as it was turned on and tossed on the ground, hovering just a few inches above it. His remaining time became five minutes when he was done locking his door and remembering his usual route to work. Despite being home to the "number one extreme gear racer of all time", only a very small portion of the city had official extreme gear routes. Jet could count the number of air pits with just one hand – but he didn't need to, since stopping by one of those was a "loser's move".

No, what Jet usually did was performing tricks off everything that slightly resembled a ramp without much care for anyone else that might be minding their own business in the surroundings. People who had been living in that part of the city for some time knew the exact patches of sidewalk to avoid – lest they get a boardful of irresponsible hawk crashing on them at barely legal speeds. One particularly kind and fearless old lady would even hang a clothesline near her living room window, so that Jet could use it as a grinding rail. Kindness did not go unrewarded, as Jet threw one of his "legendary wind master" caps into her open window while speeding by.

The agency was structured similar to any other sports club, with an unremarkable amount of office space in the front and a large open area in the back. Like the rest of the city, it wasn't well adapted to extreme gear traffic, so it was up to a poor receptionist to prevent the worst from happening. Automatic doors were manually opened at just the right time so Jet would drift inside safely instead of shattering the doors and his career.

"I didn't need your help, I was gonna make it! I timed it in my head!"

The receptionist – who deserved a raise – looked like she was used to the hawk's incessant squawkings and lack of gratitude by that point. Jet took the board under his arm and started heading towards the practice area before she cleared her throat.

"Excuse me, mister Jet? Miss Alina is expecting you in the second floor meeting room," the mobian quickly interjected before the hawk could complain at him, "as per our email from this morning."

His beak opened, then closed after a small pause. Not only did he forget to check his emails during his hurry, but he had also forgotten to bring his phone with him. All he could do was emit an annoyed groan and proceed to climb the stairs. He could have taken the elevator, sure, but it didn't look like he was going to be practicing today anyways so every bit of exercise helped.

Of course, the whole business wasn't dedicated to catering to his every need. It was an agency that worked with athletes from many different (usually unorthodox) sports. There were a few faces he got to see every day that he didn't know by name. They were mostly mobians, much like the majority off the staff, which made him a little more comfortable inside the boring light gray walls of the office space. They stayed in their own lane and the only conflicts that arose were the usual complaints about how much of their earnings was swooped by the higher ups. Everyone else seemed to think it was a good company despite the usual scummy practices, and the staff that interacted directly with the athletes seldom received complaints.

That is, the staff that didn't interact with Jet. Jet had many complaints about pretty much everyone who worked with him, and he wasn't shy of letting them know.

The intricate wooden door with Alina's name on it opened and his board was put against the wall in the corner. The parrot mobian's neck feathers ruffled up a tiny bit at Jet's arrival, yet she refused to divert her glance from her monitor until the end of whatever video she was watching. Red hues fixated on the hawk's annoyed expression a full minute later, beak twisting into the closest thing to a polite smile someone with a beak could manage.

"Good morning, Jet." The middle-aged woman took a sip from her coffee. She had one of those fancy new mugs designed specifically for people with beaks, very similar to the one he was rewarded with after his third world grand prix victory that had broken when he tossed his bag on the ground without thinking.

"I should be practicing for the Monopole invitational," he rolled his eyes, "so be quick."

Alina scooted her chair away from her monitor and to the center of her desk so she could face Jet head on. Her suit always looked impeccable, almost as if she wore a new one every day. With the amount of money that actually reaches me, I wouldn't be surprised.

"Now now, let's not get ahead of ourselves, that is the reason why I summoned you here today. To put it briefly, you will be absent from this year's events."

Alina braced herself just in time for the hawk to loudly chime up in annoyance, "What in the world are you talking about?! I can't skip on the world grand prix, I'm the le–"

"The legendary wind master, yes," she mouthed the title as if she was embarrassed by it, "But hear me out."

Alina switched windows on her computer and turned her monitor to face Jet. A bunch of graphs and numbers Jet was clueless about were thrown around the screen as if the display was made confusing on purpose. The most he could decipher was that the majority of the graphs seemed to be going down – which usually was a bad thing, in his limited business experience.

"You're too good. The interest rates for extreme gear racing within the top competitors from past seasons are going down, because they just have no hope of winning as long as you're competing as well. In turn, major manufacturers and repairers are expected to lose income, since less people will make use of their services."

She could almost hear the gears turning inside Jet's head. He was too good? Wouldn't that be a good thing? As much as he liked the validation coming from his hassle of a boss, this didn't sound like the whole truth to him. People didn't just get kicked out because they won too much in any other sports, right?

"We have decided to pull you out of the competitive circle for this year only," she continued to smile, despite Jet lowkey growling at her, "so that maybe we get a few new faces in the following year. We already set up the PR campaign and no action from you will be necessary. That way, your victory next year will feel even more satisfying to your fans, and maybe we can even plot a rivalry with whoever wins it this year! And yes, before you ask, this was all in your contract. What do you think?"

"I'm surprised my contact lets me think on my own. Why the hell did you not consult me first about this?! I'm going to have a word with…with… with whoever your boss is and I'll have the whole team fired! You can't just decide whether or not I compete without consulting me first– no, at all!"

Jet didn't stay to see what her reaction to his little outburst was, and he didn't care that much either way. He got on his board and rode through the halls – despite the many makeshift signs on the walls advising against it – in search of his superior's superiors, or whoever was responsible for all this mess.

Turns out, he was right and not in a good way. Thinking on his own was barely allowed under his current contract.

After annoying everyone in the office with a handful of shouting matches against unfeeling businesspeople, Jet left the building without being able to change his situation at all. A one-year break on competing? Were they out of their minds? The concept just couldn't enter his feathery little head. Sure, he had more than enough money to live comfortably during the year, but… now what? It was March, he would have nine whole months of not racing at all. He wasn't allowed to compete in the upper circles, and the lower ranked matches probably wouldn't allow someone as high ranked as him anyways. He could always move to Monopole or Grand Metropolis for the time being, where the whole city was well adapted for extreme gear and street races were legal and common, but… something just didn't feel right.

Jet stopped to look around. He had walked out of the agency and into a commercial district while he was on his rage-fueled autopilot. That's right, he could probably treat himself to some new clothes now that he didn't need to wear that stupid sponsor jacket every day anymore. But there were also a couple of restaurants across the street, whose fresh lunch aromas were fighting for his attention. Maybe this wasn't so bad! He couldn't entertain himself with novelties for a whole year, but… he had something to do for the first two days, at least!

He was about to start walking to the nearest place that would allow him to impulse purchase a custom leather jacket when he felt himself being pulled backwards and lifted into the air by his waist by a giant hand as if he was an action figure.

"Jet! Hey Jet, what a coincidence it is to see you here! Don't you think? Here, hold Junior for me."

Even if they had disbanded years ago, it was still very weird for Jet to hear Storm calling him anything other than "boss". Despite him having gotten taller, the albatross' height seemed to also have increased to maintain the height gap between them. Besides now wearing a shirt, some kind of weird harness and even pants, Storm still looked the same as always. Huge, loud, inconvenient and pretty much one of his last remaining friends.

Jet felt something large and round being placed into his hands before he was put back down and flipped so he could properly face Storm, but he didn't have time to process what it was before Storm assaulted him with his voice again. "I just got back from lunch. I saw you on TV a couple of times since we had that meeting together last year, you're still going strong!"

"Not right now, Storm. You caught me in a bad time." Jet groaned to himself and handed the egg back to the albatross. Wait, egg?

"What is this? Some kind of toy you bought for your girlfriend?"

"Oh no, we're gonna get married soon and this is our son! We don't know what his name's gonna be yet, so we're calling him Junior for now. What do you think? Big and strong like his dad, huh?"

Jet's jaw dropped to the floor in response, the hawk just now identifying his weird harness thing as a baby carrier. Storm, out of all the people around his age he knew, was the one to get married and have a kid first? Someone could put up with Storm for that long? How?! He had never seen the albatross' partner in person, only a few mentions here and there throughout the years. And he couldn't even claim he was making this whole girlfriend deal up anymore, since that egg was right in front of him!

"That's… I– That's great, man. I'm… wow, your girlf– fiancé really doesn't have any ears, huh? Congratulations, man, I need to book the same therapist as her. When's the wedding?"

"In like… two months? Three? You know I'm not good with numbers." Storm completely ignored Jet's rudeness as always, a big grin on his face. "You're gonna be the best man, of course! I should take you to meet Cloud before that though, maybe we can do something together."

Jet snickered. The idea that Storm found a partner with the same namesake was very funny to him.

"Can it be right now? I haven't had lunch yet so we can go to whatever all-you-can-eat buffet hasn't banned you yet to get your second and my first."

"Oh sorry Jet, I promised Cloud I was going to some weird parenting class so I know how to take care of Junior when he's born."

"That's a thing?"

"Yeah, I didn't know either! After that I have to go to work, then I'm gonna build a crib in woodworking class, then I'm gonna grab some more ceramic owls for Cloud's collection, then I'm gonna…"

Jet was starting to lose his temper at Storm. When did he start doing so many things? Storm, the bumbling clumsy idiot that used to be his Babylon Rogues teammate? He could barely read traffic signs when they first met! Of course, people change and grow over time, but… but…

He didn't.

Anger turned to sadness and a pang of guilt, a knot forming in the hawk's stomach. Everyone had always told Jet that he looked like he was born on an extreme gear board – and that wasn't entirely wrong – and now he could see that wasn't so much of a positive thing. Where had his other hobbies gone? The only thing he could recall besides racing was… well, thieving. And he wasn't going back to that. He wouldn't sabotage the perfectly average life he and his former gang had given up almost their whole treasure stash for.

"Aw man, I told Wave I was gonna go and see if there was still anything valuable inside our old airship. I guess if I move knitting a few more days ahead then I can–"

"No worries, Storm, I'll do that for you this once," Jet suddenly chimed in, his tone a fair bit desperate despite how cool he was trying to make himself look with his crossed arms and closed eyes, "you go and make sure your kid gets smarter than you when he grows up. Not like that's very difficult, of course."

"Thanks so much bo– Jet! I owe you one for that. I'll take you out for dinner next week, how's that sound?"

"Great, great." Jet was busy trying to think of anything worthwhile that might still be in that airship. Nothing came to mind, but he was sure he'd find something interesting in there anyways! "I'm going to head out now, you know how busy I get too. With my racing and all that. I'll see you around, big guy!"

Jet got on his board and began speeding off, until he realized their old airship was in a storage unit all the way in Station Square. His Type-J was made for short bursts of speed, not long-distance trips. He waited until no one was looking before he got off the board. Very anticlimactic, but even Jet and his massive ego knew he couldn't ride his board everywhere.

The hawk made a quick stop by his apartment to get his phone and a sandwich before hopping into a bus to Station Square. Despite it being the end of the week, there was almost no one inside the vehicle. The few people traveling along with him were quiet, occupied with their own little things as the scenery shifted besides them. Jet still couldn't help but delve on how differently he and Storm had grown up. Storm was a whole different person, and Jet was still… Jet! The same short (in both height and temper), big mouthed hawk few liked and nobody took seriously.

Bah, what was he thinking? He didn't need to be liked. He was already loved by hundreds! Thousands! There was an army of fans out there that bought his merch no matter what and bought tickets to all of his races – not to mention the ones that couldn't support him financially but still cheered for him as much as they could. Yet despite all that, he couldn't help but feel like was on his own, in a way. Like a child that got ignored by their classmates and parents until it was time to be lifted without warning and placed on the metaphorical baby chair.

He only noticed they had arrived when the bus doors opened and the sound of the crowd made its way into the bus. Dozens of people, both humans and mobians, chatting and laughing and waiting for their busses so they could go somewhere and have fun with their weekend.

Board in hand, valuables in pocket and sandwich in stomach, he rode his way into the city. Station Square was way less packed than Empire City, he noted. Sidewalks seemed wider and the skyscrapers smaller. Places like Twinkle Park and the casino were right there and widely accessible to anyone lucky enough to live a few blocks from them. There were tons of parks, plazas and squares, which helped cement that… well, people actually lived in there! Despite the city's partial destruction by Perfect Chaos a few years, everything seemed as lively as it could be. Fissures in the landscape were patched up, covered with flowers and trees and life.

There was probably a very obvious metaphor somewhere in there, but Jet being Jet didn't notice it at all.

It was the middle of the afternoon at that point, and Jet just realized he hadn't planned where he was going to stay for the night. Shoot. Might as well go and get a reservation on whatever reasonably-priced hotel he could find. He was slowly hovering around on his board, looking over the usual crowd or group of inconveniently tall humans when something – no, someone caught his attention.

"Look who it is, Sonic the Hedgehog!"

The blue hedgehog was walking alone, drinking a smoothie from a large plastic cup and minding his own business when Jet sped by. He snatched the drink from his hands and then braked in front of him, taking a sip of his own through the straw. Banana? Not bad, not bad. Sonic let out a small "hey!" and was ready to dash after the thief before he saw who the culprit was. A small grin was all that filled his face, one hand on his hip and the other doing the usual no-no finger waggle.

"Jet, hey buddy! Is your racing career going so bad that you have to go back to stealing from innocent people?" Ouch, that one hurt more than it should. The Hawk still kept it cool though, crossing his arms over his chest and scoffing.

"Better than yours is ever going to be, hedgehog! I was just attending to some business and decided to say hi to my favorite slowpoke."

"Aw you flatter me! You're making me a little hot on the face right now, dude. Is it time for our yearly race yet?"

That's right, he had forgotten about that! After their last encounter at Monopole to sort out the whole "ark of the cosmos" ordeal, they had made a habit out of racing every once a year to see who the "fastest thing in the universe" was. They were pretty even actually, with Jet having tied the score during the last year. He couldn't say he had gotten to know Sonic much better – their relationship was still a somewhat shallow but harmless rivalry that only fueled both of their desires to get better at extreme gear racing. Jet thought Sonic was a cool guy, but there was no way he was going to let anyone catch him saying that! Jet made sure Sonic was looking at him before he tossed the smoothie back to its rightful owner.

"Hah, you're trying to trick me, Sonic the Hedgehog? Unless you're keeping your board in the same place you keep your ego, I don't see any way of making this happen."

"Oh, shoot! Yeah, I didn't think about that." Sonic let out a small embarrassed chuckle. "Wanna give me a ride home? I'll let you grab on my waist and everything while I show you what the fastest thing alive can do!"

Jet shot him an unamused look and got off his board in response. He immediately noticed how tall Sonic had gotten in the last six years. It made him feel… a sort of way. They walked beside each other to Sonic's house, which was actually owned and mostly maintained by his friend Tails. They were going slow enough for Jet to be able to notice the number of cars on the street to wane along with the sunlight. A nice shade of orange now filled the horizon, with a few small clouds floating along peacefully.

"So, how's stuff going? I'm assuming you're still winning every race you get into," Sonic turned to face Jet, eyes filled with casual sincerity instead of the usual joking smirk, "besides ours, of course."

"Of course I am, I'm the legendary wind master! I'm good at everything I do." That look on his eyes was probably what compelled Jet to confess about the current state of things. "At least next year I'll be again. They're not letting me race in the big leagues at all this year as a publicity stunt or whatever."

"Whaaaat, that sucks man! I can't imagine you going a whole year without racing, it's like… all you ever do!" That one hurt even more.

"Tell me about it, hedgehog."

Whether that was a witty comeback or a genuine acknowledgement, not even Jet himself could tell. He thought it was interesting how he was now kind of walking in circles, since the only way to the Mystic Ruins was through a passageway in the Station Square Station he arrived from earlier. It was a sudden shift from civilization to nature – a rustic yet solid looking stairway built besides the station led them down into the wilds. The moon was starting peek from behind the clouds, giving small glimpses of its light to be reflected by the glossy looking grasses and other plants.

The distant sound of a waterfall eased Jet from his bad thoughts and made him release a breath he didn't know he was holding. Sonic had probably noticed that, since the hawk didn't remember him having that little smile on his face before. Tails' house was just right in front of them now, porch lighting illuminating both speedsters as they came to a stop. The fox's workshop stood a couple feet away, looking more like an oversized garage than anything in Jet's opinion.

"Okay, I'm totally gonna sound like a quitter right now but… can we do this tomorrow or something? I still have to make dinner for Tails, this is like the third time this week I got home late..."

Almost like on cue, the front door opened to reveal the two-tailed fox in question. "Finally, someone that's still shorter than me!", Jet thought to himself.

"I already ordered a pizza this time, I'm supposed to be the smart one in this house." Tails chuckled, his expression shifting to a polite yet confused smile once he laid eyes on the bird. "Oh hey Jet, long time no see!"

Jet mouthed a small "hey". He was… pretty indifferent to the kid – no, teenager. His rivalry was with Sonic, he had no reason to be snarky to him. Wave would have to confront her jealousy of him by herself, it wasn't his responsibility to pick fights with his former gang member's rivals anymore.

"Well, since you want to take the quitters route, I'll be on my way to find a hotel for the night. But I'll be here at dawn to uphold our challenge, Sonic the Hedgehog!"

Jet scoffed and got on his board to ride away, but Sonic managed to put his hand on the bird's shoulder before he could do so.

"Wait! You're going out to find a hotel at this time? That's like trying to find anything in my room. Tails can confirm, he lost a wrench there last week and nothing came up even when we ran metal detectors through the whole house. Isn't that right, buddy?"

Tails nodded slowly, even though he didn't look too happy with where this was going. Jet didn't get off his board just yet, but he did shrug Sonic's hand away before turning to face him.

"What, do you expect me to spend the night in there instead?"

Sonic went quiet for a few moments before letting out a "yeah!", followed by a loud "what!" from both Jet and Tails.

"Who do you think I am? I'm the legendary wind master, I'm totally fine on my own. Hell, I might even get the same thing that makes you so slow if I stand next to you for too long!"

A pause.

"…But! I know you're oh so desperate to bail on the race tomorrow, so I'll have to stay here and make sure you don't jump out the window in the middle of the night."

Sonic cheered out loud enough so that neither of them could hear Tails whining by the door.

He could already tell it was going to be a long night.