Interlude by -- Joseph DeLaCroix This story is based on characters created by Service and Games (SEGA), and on characters created by Archie Comic Publications, Inc. Any resemblance to actual characters are not coincidental. ;) Joseph, Bahb, and all other independent creations of Joseph DeLaCroix are the copyrighted property of JoCo Inc. Commander Packbell, Bookshire Draftwood, and Sandra Nightweaver are the copyrighted property of David Pistone. All rights reserved. Etc. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Summer's peak had arrived on the Northern continent, bringing with it high temperatures, high humidity, and inches upon inches of rain. The sound of thunder seemed not to be far off at any moment, and the ground seemed to give up its moisture as fast as the rain could give it. Trees and ponds were constantly frequented by Mobians of all sorts, even those still in robotic form; in fact, it seemed that the chrome of the remaining roboticized residents was hot enough to cook eggs on. Even those with mere fur felt cooked to the bone...it was hard to get away from the oppressive, sweltering, blazing sun, and the only reprieve most people got was when the pounding thunderstorms hit. It was only logical then that Knothole's resident air conditioner repairman, Rotor, was worked quite heavily as the various units began to suffer damage from justifiable overuse. Even the Princess had to stew for a few hours when her particular air conditioner fried in the heat, which made her relatively constant flow of advisors and hangers-on rather displeased as well. Yet, not everyone had such problems. Bookshire's unit operated rather well, making his office comfortable for the heatstroke and allergy sufferers who were also consulting him much more than he would have liked. Tails was there a great deal, spending many early mornings with the old raccoon in physical therapy. He'd also take some time on occasion to use Bookshire's workshop on his palmtop computer, fiddling with it often for several hours at a time. Sonic never stood still long enough to get particularly hot, and Bunnie got the desired job of lifeguard. Antoine was in his own private hell, tho; despite the incredibly high humidity, the brain-melting sun, and the utter uncomfortability of it all, he refused to take off the rather stuffy and heat-collecting dress uniform of the Royal Guard. It was almost painful to watch him struggling down the street, gulping down massive glasses of ice water; a plume of heat streamed off his body, distorting the light around it as if he were a slab of roasting asphalt on a desert highway. At noon. (Needless to say, he was often seen standing in front of an air conditioning vent, encouraging its owner to turn it up higher...oddly, he was often the last person seen just before one of the units broke down...) The only area hotter than Antoine's shoulder on Mobius, in most people's opinions, was Robotropolis. It painfully lacked any sort of reprieve from its roasting fires and dying foundries. Oil rained from the sky, and choking black smoke rolled from the constantly assaulted walls of the factories and power plants of the cursed metropolis; it was like the Terran sack of Rome, except this city was simply being torn apart rather than looted. Slowly, the Freedom Fighters were pushing the perimeter of Robotropolis deeper and deeper inward, taking block after block back from Packbell's battered SWATBot forces. The marks of their passage were evident; buildings burnt to the ground, fires raging in the factories, the shells of shattered robots scattered about the street like so much confetti... But in the center of this decadent city, the ruins of the Death Egg still stood, albeit with some portions of it blown out or torn up. Even as the fires raged against its walls, the explosions rocked its foundations, and the continual vows of Freedom Fighters to take it out his or herself, it still stood. SWATBots still were made within it, and the fall of Robotropolis would have to eventually involve its final and utter destruction; without it, the city would perish within hours. Within the Egg, besides one of the final SWATBot production facilities and the central nervous system of the remains of the Robotnik Empire, there was a single sentinent entity; the last leader of the dying coup, Emperor Packbell. He had upgraded his title a few days after the search for Snively had finally been concluded with the assumption that said underling was utterly annhilated. Yet, since SWATBots would call him `Sonic' if he so desired, the title was for his own private ego gratification. Besides, it sounded more `commanding'... - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - He sat in Robotnik's old green chair, probably the one object in Robotropolis that still operated as it did fifteen years ago. It still moved about on its servos and pnumonic lifts simply and efficently, and still had the sheen of something fresh out of the factory. Even Robotnik's continual pounding of the arms didn't hurt the general look of the chair, seeing that the entire object was constructed out of reenforced diamondium. Packbell sat in this chair simply because it was nearby the control center for what remaining SWATBot forces he had left. He'd lost 50 blocks since he'd taken control back from Snively, and there were only 75 blocks left between the current perimeter and the chair in which he now sat. Hastily constructed containment walls had been put up about 25 blocks from the Egg, but even he realized that they wouldn't hold back a rampaging, vengeance-yearning pack of Freedom Fighters for long. Monitors intermittently flickered on and off, an after-effect from the loss of the final backup generators that supplied the Death Egg externally. The generators in the lower levels would provide enough power to operate the Egg for a year or so; that is, if all the wiring in the Death Egg was still there. Quickly constructed rerouting systems for the electricity operated 75% of the time, but there was still no doubt to anyone who might observe the state of the structure that it was rapidly weakening... The second-to-last Buyer visit confirmed this to Packbell, in case he had forgotten. The avatar for their leader, yet another fox in the stream of various minor players in this odd scheme, came into his Egg...without destroying any more of his SWATBots than could be remade in that working period, thankfully...and cursed at him for about 5 minutes about the pathetic state of his current holdings. The offer had been downgraded again due to the devaluation of the property to a heavily-armed fighter with a full compliment of weapons. After haggling for a while, he had gotten them to at least promise they would go no lower...then, like all of his predecessors, the fox disappeared. That meeting had put him in a suitably sullen and bitter mood. He might barely, -barely-, be able to hijack some cargo ship somewhere, but total conquest of another world would have to be delayed at least a decade or so. His dreams of making a totally synthetic planet were again pushed back into the future, far from his grasping hands... However, the various `tokens' left behind from the Buyers would prove useful in a raid. He now possessed a set of fine plasma rifles, a gravitron bomb (which he was very, very careful around), a few cases of minor neutron explosives used in excavation, a full compliment of rechargable power packs for many different devices, a credstick that had a balance of 1 million GalactiCreds [tm], a sort of media player that accepted strange crystalline cubes, some cubes that made the object work, a few sets of clothes, and some other nicknacks that he had not bothered to examine yet. They were all packed up into a single well-insulated box, and could be taken with the evil android whereever he might wish to go. He'd organized his escape from Mobius perfectly. All that was needed was the fighter, a few feet of storage space, and about 30 seconds... and then, off he'd go, leaving this death trap of a world behind for whatever insidious plans the Buyers had for it. He wondered if he'd find others like himself someplace else in the universe...Packbell hoped so, for some reason. Perhaps he was beginning to culture some other emotions in his steel bosom, after all. He hoped they wouldn't distract him too much from his ultimate goal... - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Joseph pulled a 3 g bank while rocketing through the air, going at some ungodly speed around the area of his pond. He barrelrolled above the water, then raced down towards it...pulling up at the last second, his body just barely touched the water before blasting back up into the sky... normally, carrying a large stone in one's palm put a damper on one's aerial acrobatics, but an idea Joseph had came up with had made his continuing training far easier. He had been complaining about how heavy the rock was when he had made the off-hand comment about wishing he could shrink the stone down to a more controllable size. And, amazingly enough, the stone had done that once before with another pupil. So, after designing a proper talisman to hold the stone, Joseph exerted his will and technical knowledge and put the larger stone into the smaller amulet. It was an interesting trick, but Joseph had some knowledge of the theorem by reading some Keldy'rian technical journals one afternoon last autumn. Now, wearing the stone around his neck, he became much more manuverable. He merely concentrated on the amulet when he needed to draw upon its energies, rather than having to hold the large soccerball-sized rock in a hand or two. It also allowed him to do very tricky and fast aerial spins, flips, and dives while projecting energy from his palms. It suddenly became far more fun to be able to fly. A rock shattered into pebbles below him as he again hit the target boulder with a blast of concentrated natural force. He wondered how much impact the energy would have on a robot, or an armored soldier. Joseph guessed he'd have to find that out when the time came...so, he would just have to get as skilled at aiming and firing a blast while in motion as he could before his first major test of his abilities came along; the _Apocolypse_. Soon, however, Joseph began to tire of flying around for a bit, and landed down by the shore for a reprieve from his fast and loose stunt flying. It did take some effort to stay in the air, after all...one's concentration and focus must continually be maintained, else one falls like a rock as gravity realizes where you are. He had been improving astronomically, but years of practice and honing of his skills still loomed ahead. One day, the rock had told him, he might even be able to use his powers without it as a focus. What a day that would be... Some grass began to green and grow around him, one of the aftereffects of using his abilities. He'd noticed it a few days ago after he'd been practicing the complicated skill of levitating other objects. When he'd start using his powers, the earth around him seemed to grow stronger and more vital, as if he were pouring energy directly into it. The trees got a bit more greener, the grasses got longer, animals continually wandered around by him as if he were a massive salt lick...it was very strange, but it was not entirely unwelcome. After all, nothing that was attracted to him was ever hostile, and they were mostly confined to smaller unevolved mammals and various other creatures lower on the food chain than he. A butterfly alighted on his right ear. The effects started to wear off a few minutes later, but he'd still attract animals and increase the growth of plants if he stayed in any location for too long...outside of his sterile and climate-controlled Dome, of course. Still, even the mild oddness about loitering in any particular biome for too long wasn't too curious to most people; he'd mentioned once that he'd accidentally fallen into a vat of pheromones after he'd entered his new body, so people merely wrote it off as a `weird alien thing'. Good. He stood up, disrupting the butterfly's rest and making it fly off into the forest once more. It was starting to get hot out by his pond, so perhaps a swim would be a good idea after all. Fortunately, he had planned ahead and had been wearing his more comfortable summer outfit; just a pair of sandals and a pair of swimming trunks, which left most of his fur out in the sun. This was rather uncomfortable for Joseph when Mobians happened by, since his people had always been the type to rely on clothing to preserve their modesty. The levels of fur around certain areas was rather thin and short, unlike the evenly obfuscated areas of pretty much every Mobian around. For Joseph, wandering around in a pair of shorts and mere sandals left him feeling less secure than, say, an overturned turtle. Sandra seemed to like his current selection of wardrobe, however. She had been wandering around `naked' (to Joseph, anyway) since the day of her birth, and liked being able to run her fingers around his backfur without having to weasel her way under a coat, light armor, and a shirt. His attempts to get her to wear even the most liberal selection of clothing were always thwarted by her simple desire to have her `fur to the wind'... probably a response to being shackled and straightjacketed during her several stays in Mobian prisons, he had concluded, and eventually gave up on the whole idea. It was also a little easier to work magick without having a lot of shielding on around him, he had noticed. Perhaps the influence of the wind and the sun boosted the abilities of the emerald, or maybe his own natural powers were augmented by having to work through less shielding. Either way, his studies were far increased when he was in his shorts and sandals, so he wore his outfit when he was `working'... But right at that moment, he was going to take a break from his constant practicing with a little swim. Flight was a tiring mental exercise, after all, and physical relaxation always assisted mental regeneration. Taking a floating innertube from a hidden spot behind some bushes, he pushed it out over the water, and then hopped into it. The water licked over him comfortably, cooling his tired body with its liquid nourishment. A light wind pushed him away from the shore, setting him adrift in the center of the pond a few moments later. He looked up into the cloudy sky, noting that a storm would probably arrive in 3.21 hours; give or take a minute. Right now, though, white cumulus clouds tangoed with the blue sky, the sun streaming down between their dancing like some giant mirrored ball as the creatures of the earth sang out to them musically with their speech and song....the darkness came to embrace him as he drifted off into light slumber, and he did not resist. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Machines, he hypothesised, no matter how advanced, can be used by any mere mortal with consciousness of self, the ability to speak, and an index finger. He decided to test this theory by pushing a button on one wall of his quarters, pausing to consider his request, and then speaking into it with an even and clear tone. "Machine oil, 40 gauge." The alcove inside the wall lit up, hummed, and created a canister of said oil with a spigot on the top of it for application. Pleased at his triumph over alien technology, Ivo Robotnik removed the can from the wall with his non-roboticized arm, and oiled his other arm up while walking to the other side of the room. It had been a few months since he had arrived on this vessel, and he had made remarkable progress towards his goals while being detained there. He had copied the quite useful Ur'thaen technological files, including specifications on how to create, use, and streamline various devices. Ivo was making grand strides in understanding their advanced sciences, and with time might be at the level of a middle-aged Orange tech. Also, he had obtained several portable replicator devices, with rechargable power supplies, from the ship's cargo; and by utilizing his own technical prowess, had begun loading them into the ship's single escape pod. He had wondered, initally, why such a large ship would have only one escape pod of only a medium size. Then, he had read up a bit on the propagandized history of the universe according to the Ur'thaens, and discovered only about three things of real value from it: one, the Ur'thaens never lose a fight without destroying everything they can that might one day be useful; two, the Ur'thaens never take prisoners; and three, Ur'thaens are never taken prisoner. Simply put, they only put an escape pod in for the usage of children, which this ship had none of. Therefore, Ivo could fill the escape pod as much as he could with loot, leave just enough room to fit in himself, and use it without the rest of the crew even cursing him for leaving! He smiled, walking over to the window as his arm took in the lubricant. Mobius was looming ever-closer to the ship, but still had that accursed blue-and-white color to it. One day, he thought, one day, it would be a grey ball...and it would be only the center of the Robotnik Empire! His thoughts were interrupted by some announcements that rattled over the speakers in the gruff Ur'thaen tongue. Despite his attempts, he was simply lost in how to understand the vulgar language... << "Attention all personnel, attention. We are approaching the outer limits of the Mobian sensory network. All systems shall be lowered to minimal levels from this point forward until further notice. You have five more minutes to complete your final preparations for the Operation. Return to work immediately." >> He shrugged, and sat down. All of his tasks had been completed, and his loading of the escape pod had been finished just last night. He hadn't been caught doing anything, and it was too soon for them to begin their attack. He wondered what, then, the announcement was about. A few minutes later, the lights dimmed down, and the room became slightly more cool. The dim hum that was constantly heard on the vessel faded down to a whisper, and he detected far less power available to the ship than before. << "Mobian detection grid breached. All power from this point forward is to be only for ship operations, life support, and for the cloaking division. Illumination is to be kept to a minimum, and shall be kept at a low level by the ship. Return to work immediately." >> Robotnik switched to infrared, and sat back in the single chair he was given. Obviously, their nearness to Mobius had something to do with this, he mused, so he had better start considering his exact escape plans...so much to do, so little time. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - The echidna continued to meditate, his mind etherial as the winds. He detected a great primal force beginning to stabilize...the Solaris-force, perhaps, or something new? Flickers of racial memory danced in the back of his mind, but he could still not see when or where the Solaris would mainfest. He knew the warmth was growing stronger, but it seemed so far from where it should be... Meanwhile, the Shadow was getting close to Mobius again, and he could feel the chill starting to fall upon the very edges of the world. The winds told him that a great battle, greater than any battle that had come before, would have to take place before a victor could be chosen. Then, an image formed in his mind...a fox...a hedgehog...a faerie... a kitsune...the fires of twin suns...wraiths circling the world...death, life, fire, blood... His eyes snapped open, his pulse racing, his face dotted with sweat. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Joseph napped in his innertube, not really dreaming about anything much...it was deep, dreamless sleep that he preferred, because it gave him more energy mentally and physically than having to analyze a dream for a few minutes after waking up. Yet, dreams did come to him as he drifted around his pond, and one in particular would affect him for the rest of his days... He was with Sandra, sitting on some nameless hill in the middle of a grand meadow. It was a beautiful sunny day, and they were having a nice picnic. They ate, then she snuggled up to him and bade him look up into the clouds, like she had a tendency to do. Being an obedient mate, he did so, looking into the patterns of the clouds... The clouds turned to spirits, swirling around before his eyes. They did not frighten them, or try to harm them, but they were just -there-. After a few moments, one particular wraith floated down to him, and spoke. "Solaris, we welcome you to the world of Mobius. I am Lucian, the chosen ruler of the Spirits you see before you. Soon your mettle shall be tested in your first battle; be warned, the bringer of the Apocolypse has skills that nearly equal your own. He has had 300 years of self-taught practice, while you have only had a few weeks...your magick comes from the chi of an entire world, however, while his comes from the darkness within him. Even so, the battle shall be fierce, Champion; remember never to turn your back until the Fire erupts from the Earth to destroy the Shadow that falls." It came closer, its formless body taking up his entire vision. "If you survive the battle, however, and emerge victorious, your quest shall only have just begun...so fear not my sight when I come before you again, Champion, which shall be a fortnight after the final shot has been fired." Thunder crashed above him, which caused him to snap his eyes open nearly instantly. The rain came, and smattered against his fur. Not wanting to get drenched, he swam back to shore, mulling over the vision he had seen... - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - The rains hit again just as Bunnie had been finishing helping her elderly wards, and was heading back home to rest. As the rain started to pour from the clouds, she ran into her hut, quickly bolting the door fast against the coming winds and storm. As she finished closing up her windows and firing up her hair dryer, she smiled at what she had been able to accomplish today. All of her work had been completed before the rain, and she actually had some time to herself today. Sure, it was raining, but quiet time was far more prized at the moment than socializing. She dried her fur, and sat down on her softest chair. Things had been very busy lately, she mused. More people had been deroboticized, so the movement to new villages seemed to be a daily event. The front lines were pressing deeper into Robotropolis every day, taking back more and more of it from Packbell. Sonic had actually began considering becoming a bit more serious with his relationship with Sally, and Rotor had been everywhere fixing air conditioners. And Tails! Tails was becoming a fine fox, and was growing taller and stronger every day. His tails still didn't look in top form, but he was going out of his way to rebuild the muscle mass he had lost by lifting weights and vigorously running. If he had the right metabolism for it, Bookshire had said, he'd be a regular Hercules at this point. She decided to make up a nice cup of iced tea after musing on that for a while, so she got up from her chair reluctantly and went to her replicator. Telling the machine what she wanted, it produced the cool liquid a few moments later, allowing Bunnie to quench her very acute thirst. The storm picked up outside, really starting to rattle some windows. Luckily, Bunnie noted, her hut had been reenforced before the summer had come with very modern building materials. No storm could rock it now, and she'd probably be the only bunny in town whose roof wouldn't leak. She smiled at that thought, sipping more iced tea. A couple bucks had been looking at her in that way again this afternoon, she noted, and she was beginning to feel a bit more like a piece of meat than a caring, loving rabbit. She was beginning to wonder if her newly-enhanced beauty was a bit more of a curse than it was a blessing. She sat back, drinking more of her tea. Sure, she thought, it was nice to be able to look in the mirror and see an unmarred body, but the friends she had before she was deroboticized were with her because they liked -her-. She could talk to Sally about anything, and even Sonic would do his best to understand. Some of the newer people that she found herself with seemed only to understand beauty, or the lack of it...shallow as a stream durin' a drought, her daddy might have said. She sighed. At least her real friends hadn't deserted her. She -knew- that much was true; no matter how crazy it got, Sonic, Sally, Tails, Rotor, Bookshire, and even Antoine would be there. They'd be true to each other forever, if for no other reason than they had been forced to work together for about 15 years. The storm churned and howled as she sat there, thinking quietly about what might happen next. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Tails ran back to his hut, still being unable to fly. The storm was not of above-average ferocity, but it still wasn't anything fun to be caught in. The mud from the streets was starting to get fairly deep, and if he didn't get inside soon, he'd be wretchedly filthy. He made it into his hut, ditching his muddy shoes at the door. Luckily, his hut was air conditioned, so the windows were already shut tight. Fetching a towel from nearby his bed, he started to dry his fur, which was heavy with moisture. It was a good thing he'd made it back home, he noted, because the rain outside really started to come down just as he'd finished drying himself. He flopped his backpack on the ground lightly, opening it and taking a carefully-packed package from it. He had taken precautions after he had left Bookshire's that afternoon to protect his palmtop, which seemed to have succeeded to a satisfactory level. Proud of his minor victory over the elements, he began working on it on his desk. As he unscrewed the casing and tested the various connections, he mused over the last few weeks. The whole Rachel issue, which the fox had been annoyingly excluded from, seemed to have concluded. Sally was still torn up inside about it, but everyone else seemed to believe that she'd done the right thing. She could understand Sally's position, but he was in the majority himself over the issue. After all, a lot of death and suffering had occurred from Rachel's treachery over the roboticizer issue alone, nonethless over the ten or so deaths she was personally responcible for. It's not like the hanging hadn't been -justified- under Mobian law. He'd even taken the time to look it up from the main Mobian database, and it had checked out completely. Perhaps, Tails pondered as he resoldered a loose resistor, Sally felt personally torn over the issue. Her knowledge of the laws of the land were still in conflict with her own sense of how things should be done. She knew that a mob would probably kill Rachel if she kept her in the quickly-made jail, and there would be unrest until they did. That would weaken her position as a ruler, and quite possibly cause another coup to occur; just before the victory over the true foe! Tails even realized that such a thing was far too dangerous to have happen now, so she must have forced herself to follow the opinion of the majority. Yet, Tails considered, Sally must have felt guilty about sentancing another Mobian to death. As he fiddled with the CPU, he noted that Sally despised killing in all forms, legal or not. Life was sacred to her, and so her rulinc must be gnawing at her when she slept, if not constantly. He hoped she'd let herself be forgiven over time, simply because such indecision could cost much more than a night's sleep in the coming days. The winds picked up, rattling Tails' windows. He puttered for a bit more, his mind moving from topic to topic as he worked. His tails still ached, and he could barely even move them. The physical therapy had helped, but his hope was starting to flounder. It was a depressing thought to mull over, so he simply put it out of his mind. Fiddling a bit with some switches, he thought of something Sally had mentioned a few days ago. He had been growing considerably lately, his training toning his muscles and his body automatically beginning to grow. Noticing this, Sally had said to him that he'd soon enough be a full-grown fox, and might even be a little taller than Antoine. He had smirked at that statement, wondering how Antoine might feel about that. It certainly wouldn't be something he'd love...after all, a member of the Royal Guard should tower over most Mobians. He'd probably start wearing booster shoes or something even more preposterous if he got much bigger... Giggling, he finished up his work and closed his computer again, wanting to test it. The storm howled and rattled his windows, but he was sure of his hut's sturdiness. After sealing the computer up tightly, he put the power supply back in and turned it on. A friendly beep and the normal display came up, showing that his alterations had done no harm. A diagnostic showed that he had increased the speed of the device by 20%, and the memory had been expanded another few meg; not very much, but it was something. Smiling, he started running some other tests on it, ignoring the raging storm outside. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Joseph walked into the Dome, drying himself with a thought. The door slid shut behind him, sealing out the rages of Nature (for the most part) and allowing him to relax. He took a seat on a couch, and opened his palm. A cool glass of milk appeared, the condensation on its side dripping down the glass and around his palm. Smiling, he grasped it with his other paw and slammed it back down his throat. That particular ability had been cultured a few hours after he had perfected the levitation of a few objects, after he had said something to the effect of `I'm thirsty'. And, as expected, Mob had asked him >> "Well, why don't you get a glass of water?" << They had been in the middle of the forest at that point, the nearest stream a mile or so away. "Like what," he had said in reply, "pull it out of the air?" >> "Have you tried?" << "No." He hadn't, really, being that his mind was focused on his tasks. >> "Give it a try." << He grabbed a random patch of air. Nothing. "Yeah, I tried." >> "Oh, come now. Think for a moment, Joseph." << Joseph pondered the situation for a moment. If he could fly by thinking about flying, levitate objects by willing them to rise, then why couldn't he just conjure a glass of water into his hand? >> "That's the spirit. Now try." << Joseph said nothing, already concentrating. He thought of all the glasses of water that he'd had in the past week, his pond, a stream, rain...and, slowly, a glass materialized in his palm. Water began to fill it, with ice cubes popping into existance last. "Nifty." As he drank, Mob seemed to smile. >> "You have a strong will, Joseph." << He smirked, finishing the glass and willing it away again. "It's from being stubborn as all hell, Mob. That's all." He smiled at the memory, willing the glass to disappear into a puff of air. Joseph was getting rather good at this magick stuff. He made a yo-yo and played with it for a bit, his mind wandering. He did some simple tricks, and made it snap back into his hand and scatter into air on impact. He levitated some pillows, and had them chase each other around the Dome. He generated a free-standing energy blob that floated to and fro around the roof before it ran out of power and faded away. He was amused by these things for a while, but finally became rather bored. It was no fun to do this stuff by himself for very long, and he'd not spoken to Sandra in a few hours, anyway. So, pulling himself off his couch, he went to the steppad and started the 1.3 mile descent down to the first sublevel... She was sitting in his recliner, staring at a holovid. The movie was vaguely familiar to him; two vixens steal a hovercar and travel cross-country, avenging their wounded self-images on various piggish males. This was, he believed, the fifth sequel. "Hey there, Sandra." She smiled, looking away from her movie to greet him. "About time you came back from your practicing, Joe." He created a soft beanbag to lie upon, and plopped down in it, close by his mate. "Well, you know how it can be some days." He concentrated for a moment, making a tub of popcorn to put by his side. "`Natasha and Seline: On The Road' -again-?" She laughed musically, taking some popcorn. "I love this movie." He ate some as well, making a large drink in his other paw. "But we've both seen it about 50 times." She ate some popcorn, took a sip of her drink, and smirked. "So? You've seen `Rock Man XII' about 100 times, and I still sit there and watch it whenever you get the need to see it again." "Hey, that's different. Rock Man's cinematic genius. This franchise was at best worth two sequels. Part three was barely tolorable. Part four was just plain bad." He paused for effect. "This is the fifth." Sandra bahed and pegged Joseph with some popcorn. "You just don't like it because vixens blow up robots all the way through it." The fox got a little bellegerent. "It was a waste of explosives to fry those robots! They were perfectly good and could have been used for something more -highbrow- than this drek." Sandra folded her arms and laughed. "Drek? `Rock Man' is drek. The entire plot of the movie revolved around a robot who blew up evil robots. This movie has different -strata- of plot." He smirked, pegging Sandra back. "Like hell! All the vixens do is cry and whine, then blow up more guys! At least I know Rock Man's not gonna win any freaking Zimmys." She nailed him with a handful. "Oh yeah?" she said, smiling as she tossed the payload at her mate. He whipped a handful of popcorn back, chuckling. "Yeah!" A massive food-fight began, with entire buckets of popcorn being lobbed back and forth between the two foxes. A blizzard of kernels blew through the room, and it took about five minutes for both sides to exhaust all of the ammunition. After the fight had ended, both Sandra and Joseph had popcorn hanging off their fur, and were rolling together through a larger pile, trying to get the other as popcorned as possible. By now, the movie had been totally forgotten, and the only reason for the small food-war to continue was out of pure childish glee. "Mmf!" Joseph groaned as Sandra smashed more popcorn around his muzzle. "Hey, I yield." She smiled, sitting on his chest. "Hah! That'll teach you to slam `Natasha and Seline', fox." He groaned. "You may have defeated me, but I'll hold it true to my grave that `Rock Man' is better than `Natasha and Seline'." She kissed him. "Oh yeah?" He kissed back. "Yeah." Her paws ran along the side of his neck, eventually running over his ears. "Isn't there -any- way to convince you?" He mmmed and wrapped his right paw around her waist. "Let me think for a minute about that..." - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - The storm raged in Robotropolis as well, SWATBots occasionally sparking from the pounding monsoon of acidic rain and razor-sharp wind. The firing of weapons slowed slightly around the perimeter, simply because the front line of troops were too distracted by the bad weather to keep the assault going. For the moment, the two opposing forces were at a stalemate. The fires of burning factories lit the sky in a orange-reddish haze as the unnatural lightning pounded the cursed earth, the blood of Mobians and the oil of machines soaking the dirt with a vile mixture of the fluids of both life and death. The battle raged continuously, ceasing only for a few moments for each party to either set off more explosives or carry off the dead, fire a barrage of lazers or clear the battleground of broken SWATBots. The soldiers of Mobius were grim in their determination to win, their clothing soaked through with blood, sweat, and coated in patches with the chitlin of vanquished SWATBots. Some were dying, injured, or torn in twain, yet they fought all the same; the taste of victory was just inches from their lusting lips, the chalice of triumph only a grab away. However, trapped in a cat's cradle of bad weather and a still-superior force, neither side could strike forth a blow that could decide the tide of war...it was futile for the moment. But yet, it raged... - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - The stranger's craft drifted across the sea, the cloaked figure navigating through the waters of the lower southern continent. Land, from either port or stern, was invisible; only the waters of the world were visible in any direction, and the sun and stars served as his only guide to where his destination was. Fortunately, he needed not food at the moment; the sun kept him warm, and the waters of the ocean were easily purified with his sun-harness. He took his lute from his back and played a quiet melody, his craft set forth in the right direction for the time being. The First had warned him of the potential dangers of the lifeless knights that roamed the world during this period of time, as well as the unnatural weaponry that each wielded. Like the legends of the Black Knights of the Appleshire, they could take a great deal of punishment without being hurt in any way. The dim gleam of gunmetal glimmered at his side. Luckily, the First's powers of sorcery and `science' had created for him a makeshift `pistol' which could harm the creatures if the spell within it was projected at the creature quickly enough. When he had tested it in the First's laboratory, it had been shown to be like a blue beam of hot light, and had burned through one of the bricks of his great Tower. Needless to say, he felt safer with the old wizard's weapon at his side. He glanced up into the clear sky. The Trial would begin soon, the wise one had told him, and he had said that it would be possible to see it happen with his own eyes. Indeed, such an event was an honor to witness; he hoped to awaken his sleeping bretheren in time for them to see it all. Maybe they would stop their feuding and come together to gaze upon something so awesome. The boat drifted on, an ancient melody drifting from it to serve as a rough soundtrack for the lone wolf. Soon, he thought, it would be time to finish the circle... - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -