Barred Speech

By MistressAli

Chapter 1:

Prison Blues

I got nobody on my side...

And surely that ain't right...

---Portishead "Roads"

            The food that day was some sort of mushy meat, one side burned and hard, the other side undercooked. It was buried under a puddle of grayish gravy that had way too much flour in it.

            "This stuff sucks," complained a burly white wolf. His handcuffs were attached to the table by way of a ring melded into the metal table. The chain clinked as he raised a forkful of the goop to his mouth.

            I surveyed the room with disinterested eyes, the food with even more apathy. I wasn't touching it.

            "Why ain't ya eating?" grumbled one of the guards. His tag read 'Smiley'. How cute.

            "I'm not hungry," I said curtly.

            Another guard came my way, leaning past the white wolf to smile at me. "Oh, our new guest ain't eating? Whatsa matter? You don't like the food?" His tag read 'Marshe'.

            "I'm not hungry," I repeated.

            "Think you're too good for the Devil's Gulag, eh? Think you should get gourmet meals, tv and porn movies in your cell? Is that what you think?!"

            I was a master at an apathetic unblinking stare. It drove people nuts. This guy was no different.

            "WELL?" he bellowed.

            "Yes," I said, just to irritate him.

            "Well, you're not," he growled. He scooped up some goop on one finger and flicked it into my face. "So eat up!"

            My temper was thin that day and that rudeness was enough to snap it. I grabbed the food tray and slammed it into his leering face. He howled and stumbled backwards.

            The wolf started laughing. He tripped Marshe, who hit the ground hard. Then he dumped his entire tray over the guard's body.

            "WHOOOO!!! Why don't ya eat some, boy?!"

            Marshe growled and sat up, wiping the goop off his face.

            "You ugly little freak!" He dove over the table at me. I couldn't get out of the way because I was hooked to the table. He had the tray in hand and started beating me with it.

            "OW!" I cringed and tried to huddle up, but my ankles were shackled too. "STOP!"

            "Little prick...ugly...bastard..." He hit me harder. I felt blood ooze from my nose, tasted it in my mouth.

            "Hey, calm down," said Smiley finally, pushing Marshe away.

            I lay in my cell later, curled up on the hard bed. Great. First day in prison and I was already bruised and bloody. My poor head was aching. I couldn't even think...my mind just swarmed over the earlier events of today...when I was first brought here to the Devil's Gulag...

            Breathe in. Breathe out. It's always strange to wake up from unconsciousness. My body felt limp, my brain felt stupid. I sat up slowly. I was restrained. My arms were tied behind my back, and my ankles were shackled. There was some kind of bag over my head.

            "Where am I?" I screeched.

            "He's awake," a male voice said.

            "So what? He's not goin' anywhere." Another male voice, deep and gruff responded.

            I was lying on a cold metal surface and I stayed there for a long time. Finally I was grabbed by my wrists and dragged down a hallway, I guess. The way our footsteps echoed made me believe that.

            "Search him," a voice said.

            I felt hands patting me down.

            "Strip search, ya moron."

            "I getta touch him? Oh goody!"

            "Do it. He might have something on him." I heard the snap of rubber gloves. Somebody undid the cuffs. My clothes were removed, despite my protests. I felt the rubber-gloved hands patting me down.

            "OW!! YOU BASTARD!" I howled.

            "He ain't hiding nothing up there," the voice sneered. "And you owe me five bucks, Smiley. He ain't gay...he's way too tight."

            I punched out. My fist connected with somebody. They yelped. Then somebody slammed their fist hard into my belly. I doubled over, falling to my knees. My ankle shackles were cold against my skin.

            I half expected them to force me to do obscene...uh, things to them, or them to do something to me. But they didn't. Somebody clothed me again in different clothes and then the cuffs were snapped back on and I was led down a hallway again.

            They pulled the head bag off though, and I saw them. They were beaver guys...guards, by their clothes.

            "Where am I?" I asked, but they didn't answer. They led me to the cafeteria, and that's where my first day in the Devil's Gulag began...

            I floated back to the present.

            The white wolf was just returning to his cell, which was to the left of mine. "You ok?" he asked.

            "I'm fine," I said.

            "Eh, ok."

            He stared hard at me with bluish-brown eyes. "Yer Robotnik's kid, aren't ya?"

            "Nephew."

            "Oh yeah."

            "How they catch you?"

            "It was the Freedom Fighters. They caught me. They sent me here."

            "That sucks."

            "Yes, it does."

            "So, how's the fat guy?"

            "Robotnik? He's dead."

            "Dead? Are ya shittin' me?"

            "No."

            "Hmph. Thought the lord o' lard would never croak."

            "Believe me," I muttered, "so did I."

            Oh yes. That's me. Robotnik's nephew. I go by Snively, of course...just hearing my name spoken makes me instinctively wary, because for the longest time, it was only Robotnik who I was around. So he would be the only one speaking my name, and the way he treated me, I had a right to be afraid.

            Julian Ivo is my uncle. He changed his name to Robotnik, which he thought sounded 'wonderful', and which I personally think sounds ridiculous. Like I can talk. My name's not music to the ears either. But anyway, Julian was a fat old bastard. He was in his late forties, maybe even fifties; I never did keep track of such superficial things like birthdays. That makes him a good twenty plus years older than myself.

            He sometimes wore little round dark glasses, and he had the world's longest gaudiest mustache. The orange hairs spread out like a fan underneath his nose; I was always expecting to see something tangled up in it, but he kept it combed out nice and neat. His left arm was robotic from an accident with a roboticizer; his right was still flesh. And due to another accident earlier in his life, his eyes and ears were replaced with robotic ones. Which gave him red pupils against a black backdrop and little flat cylinders on the sides of his head. His face was all mustache, double chins and teeth, big square teeth.

            He was downright ugly. And he wore the stupidest ugliest clothes he could dredge up! A gaudy red and black tight jumpsuit thing, with a yellow cross on it, a long yellow cape, and these red and black boots. It made my eyes hurt just looking at him.

            I HATED Julian.

            Oh no...not at first. But I grew to hate him. It was inevitable really; when you treat someone the way Julian treated me, then they're bound to hate you. Hate and fear you, which is exactly what I did. I hated him so much it made me hurt inside.

            It was a kind of hate that made everything inside me clench up to hold back my furious rage against him. It was a fear-hate, because I couldn't scream or attack him. There would be severe consequences for those actions, hoo boy. Julian was unforgiving, the most of all towards me. He was bad-tempered, and easily enraged, and he comforted himself by smashing and breaking things, which included me.

            I was always nervous around him, constantly shaking or sweating or stuttering. Sometimes I'd walk away from him, then look over my shoulder to see if he was coming after me...because he could've been, sometimes he attacked without warning. I've gotten so many black eyes and bloody noses from smashing into walls because I wasn't watching where I was going. But I've gotten triple that amount from him.

            I learned to sense his moods, well somewhat. If Robotnik was weather, he'd be a meteorologist's worst nightmare. He was unpredictable. Sunny one day, cloudy the next, chance of rain one minute, full out thunderstorm the next. Sometimes I could sense his anger building, and I would do everything in my power to calm him, to make him see anger wouldn't help him, or that things were getting better.

            But it was usually no use. I lived with my fear, and I developed a rather strong addiction to painkillers. It was pathetic, now that I look back.

            My silence bored the wolf; he snorted and turned away. I sat up on the bed and leaned against the wall, only to instantly lean forward with a groan. My poor back must've been one big bruise...at least, that's what it felt like.

            The wolf looked over again. "They kicked the shit outta you, eh?" He laughed.

            "I don't find it so funny," I snapped.

            "It's cause yer so puny. They don't pick on big guys like me so much, cause they know I'd wreck 'em before they got a shot in. But you...yer scrawny, man."

            "Thanks for telling me. I would've never noticed."

            He shrugged. "Anytime, man." He came up to the bars again. "Is it true that YOU made that machine blow up Robotnik and not Knothole?"

            My look of misery was replaced by a vicious grin (at least, it FELT vicious...), and I practically crooned, "Yes..."

            "Man, that's cold. The guy was yer UNCLE."

            "He deserved it," I said flatly. "You don't know how much he deserved it. Deserved worse, actually."

            "Yeah, whatever." The wolf flopped down on his bed and picked up a ratty old book.

            I sighed and laid down. It was going to be a long day...a long week...a long year.

            I must've fallen asleep, because I jerked awake at the sound of metal against metal. A guard was unlocking my door.

            "I'm out already?"

            "In your dreams," the guard snorted. "It's exercise time. You should take some tips from ole Drago there."  He aimed his finger at the white wolf, who flexed an enormous bicep.

            Drago...now why did that name sound so familiar? Must've been one of Robotnik's minions. I never did keep track of any of them; that silly Croc-bot, or that bounty hunter...Nick, or Knock, whatever his name was. They were nowhere near as important as me. But Robotnik didn't see it that way. He thought he had good help with them. He praised their efforts, but never a kind word was said to me.

            The guard snapped cuffs on me, and I jumped, shaken out of my thoughts. He led our block of prisoners into a large room within the prison. We were herded into this room, and there was a fenced enclosure which we were locked into. I felt like some zoo animal.

            There were a few exercise machines around; treadmills, and stationary bikes, barbells, and weight-lifting equipment. I wasn't really interested. I sat down on the floor near a crate containing basketballs. There was a hoop nearby, but no one was playing.

            A large brown dog came up to me. "You new here?"

            "Yes."

            "Pretty stupid to get caught."

            I didn't say anything. He picked up one of the basketballs and bounced it a few times. He shot at the hoop. It twirled on the rim and dropped through the net. "Heh." He laughed. "Was that good or was that good?"

            "It was probably luck."

            "Puh. Sleuth dosen't get lucky. He's just damn good."

            I gave him one of those 'I don't think so' looks, but he just spun the basketball on a fingertip and grinned stupidly.

            "You ain't good, though, that's for sure," he said. "Gettin' caught by those freaks, puh. What a retard."

            "That makes you a retard then, too. You got caught by them."

            His hand jittered and the basketball fell to the floor. "Awww, shut up," he growled. He retrieved the basketball and bounced it at me. "You wanna play?"

            I almost laughed. Me? Play against this nearly six-foot tall man? What a joke. He could bunch me up and use me for the ball if he wanted. Not a pleasant thought.

            "C'mon."

            I declined politely, but he insisted. But I knew he wasn't really that eager for the game. He just wanted to mess with me.

            While I was irritated easily, I was rather good at not showing it. I mean...I had to be. Robotnik didn't like it when I got snappy at him, so I had to control myself.

            I did the same now. I kept a calm air, while inside I was wishing I was bigger, stronger. 'Cause I'd be slugging this guy. He was pulling on my hair now...what was left of it, anyway.

            He wasn't the only one who was a pest. Another dog came up, a white one this time. He shoved me. "What's going on, Sleuth? Baldie bothering you?"

            "Yeah," replied Sleuth. "He's bugging the hell outta me."

            The white dog shoved me again. "Why you bugging Sleuth?"

            "I wasn't..." I began, but then realized he knew I wasn't bugging anybody. It was just a nice line to veil his bullying with.

            "I don't like it when people mess with my buddy Sleuth." He shoved me again. Like everybody else, he was bigger than me. I stumbled backwards, and tripped over the crate of basketballs, landing on my ass. It wasn't graceful, at any rate.

            The two dogs laughed like nothing was funnier in the world.

            I stood up, fuming, but still trying to maintain at least a shred of dignity. I attempted to walk past them as arrogantly as possible, but the white one grabbed me.

            "How 'bout a little one on one, Sleuth? I got the ball!" He laughed and threw me towards Sleuth.

            The brown dog caught me by the upper arms and dragged me towards the hoop. He lifted me up, past his chest, shoulder height, now above his head! He held me up there for a second, just reveling in his strength. Not that I was heavy, but still...

            "HEY!" yelled one of the guards. He came towards us. Unlike the two guards I'd been with at first, this man wasn't a beaver. He was a wirey, mean-looking animal. A raccoon, maybe, but no...more like something else. A coati or a ringtail perhaps. He didn't look too friendly.

            "Well...uh, we was just talking and this new guy butted in. Started talking about escaping. We decided to trash 'im, you know. I mean, we don't want no trouble." The white dog was a bad liar, but the guard was obviously the type who didn't give a shit, as long as there was a scapegoat. Which was me.

            "Humph," he snorted. "He IS an Overlander. You can't trust those furless bastards. Put him down."

            The brown dog set me down. I was grateful that he didn't drop me. Robotnik had done that a lot. I remember I landed pretty rough some of those times, breaking my wrist one time, and a few ribs another.

            The guard poked at me with a stubby finger. I noticed there was dirt caked under the claws. Ah, a 'manly man'. Not afraid to get his hands dirty. Probably refused to ever hire a repairman. My hands, they're the exact opposite; no fur, smooth, pale, clean. I worked indoors. Not to say I never touched anything dirty. There had sometimes been gore in Robotropolis; experiments gone wrong, prisoners killed, blood shed. Oh yes, I knew what blood felt like. Warm, thick, coppery-smelling. Different shades of red too; brighter at the skin's surface, darker when further into the body.

            He poked me again, a scowl on his face. "Are you listenin'?"

            "Not really."

            He slugged me. I didn't expect it, and was surprised to find myself on the floor suddenly. I felt something oozing from my nose. His hands were on me, grabbing me roughly by the back of the uniform and pulling me up.

            "Don't you mouth off to me, Overlander. You just might piss me off."

            The blood tickled in my nostrils. I sneezed, spraying his face with a mixture of blood and snot.

            He stared at me, his eyes wide in disbelieving anger. Slowly, he wiped one paw across his face. Then he drew the other back.

            I stomped on his foot. It didn't hurt him, but it did distract him for a moment. My hands grabbed a small weight off the floor. It weighed down on my skinny arm. I looked at it, briefly; 15 pounds.

            The guard was coming at me, and I swung my hand, the weight clutched firmly in it. The metal connected with his skull and he staggered.

            I bolted.

            There wasn't anywhere to go! The entire room was fenced in, and there were guards outside the fence door. I ran towards it anyway...desperate. It was opening!

            Two of the outside guards came in. They had clubs in their hands, one had a laser pistol. They were coming at me! I tried to dodge around them, to make it out the open door, but they had me.

            I stopped, put my hands up in surrender.

            I couldn't see it, but I heard a whoosh in the air. Somebody had swung...GOD! I fell to my knees, then collapsed onto my stomach. My back...God, somebody's broken my back...

            I closed my eyes hard, feeling tears squeezing up inside them. Somebody's boot slammed into my ribs. I gasped for air desperately. Funny how pain turns your vision into flashing white. Like lightning or something.

            A hand closed around the back of my neck, lifting me to my feet.

            "It ain't smart, trying to escape." It was the guard named Smiley. He wasn't smiling though, he looked somewhat pissed, yet amused at the same time.

            I didn't blame the guards for bullying, not really. They didn't have anything better to do; why not beat the hell out of a prisoner? Who was going to care? The Princess? Surely not, she didn't even give any of us a trial. Her only orders had been to 'keep him (me) alive'. Then I was cuffed, and some skunk bastard knocked me out to ensure I wouldn't 'try anything'. I suppose that's when I was loaded into a hovercraft and brought to this wretched place.

            "I wasn't trying to escape," I said in a tight voice. My ribs hurt bad. A few were probably bruised. "That guard over there attacked me." I aimed a finger at the coati/ringtail/whatever-it-was. Smiley grabbed my finger in his fist. He could break it easily if he wished. I knew that, and squirmed uncomfortably.

            "Ya must've started it. We don't just attack prisoners, do we?"

            There were noises of agreement.

            "So ya better just watch yaself, Snidely..."

            "It's Sniv---," I started to correct, but he jerked my finger warningly. It hurt.

            "DON'T INTERRUPT! I don't give a shit what ya name is, ya hear me!? What I give a shit about is keeping ya pissheads in here! SO DON'T TRY TO ESCAPE AGAIN, or yer going to regret it. Ya understand me?"

            "Yes," I said.

            "DO YA?" he screamed.

            "YES!"

            "Good." He let go of my finger and shoved me. "Now go do something. And don't start any more trouble."

            My oh my, how the day was turning out. Terrible. This wasn't unusual in my screwed-up little world, but it doesn't mean I like it. We were all back in the cells. I had fortunately gotten out of the exercise room with no more incidents.

            I was lying on the bed. It was hard, but I was used to that. Sleeping on my bed back in Robotropolis was the equivalent of sleeping on a stone floor. At least it was warm.

            My ribs hurt, as did the rest of my body. I sighed and squirmed, trying to get comfortable. It seemed impossible.

            There was a squeaking sound in the hallway. I sat up. "What's that?"

            "The book cart," said the wolf, sounding pleased. "Every Thursday we get to pick out a coupla books."

            "Whoop de shit," an ugly frog said. His cell was to the right of mine. "Books suck."

            "They don't," argued the wolf. "Not when you get the porno ones."

            "Drago, man, you been holdin' out on me? All this time I thought they were shitty books, now you tell me there's pussy in 'em?"

            I scowled at the rather obscene reference to women. While I certainly wasn't a goody-two shoes, my father had been adamant about teaching me and my siblings to respect women. He beat it into me, along with everything else.

            "Yeah," said the wolf. "Some of 'em suck, ya know. They pretend to be sexy, ya know, but they ain't really. But then some of 'em, whoowheeee! Good shit."

            "Huh," the frog snorted. "I guess I'll take a look this time."

            "What about you, Snidely?"

            "It's Snively, dammit."

            "Whatever. You gonna get some of that shit?"

            "I doubt it."

            The cart came into sight. It was pushed by a scrawny guard. He stopped in front of Drago's cell and waited. Drago drew some books out from under his bed and handed them through the bars. The guard put the books onto the cart, then gestured. "Pick some new ones if ya want 'em."

            Drago peered at the books, then selected a couple of well-handled magazines. I caught a glimpse of large breasts on the cover of one.

            The cart moved to me. I choose two novels. One was named 'The Terrible Rage', the other, 'The Abused'. Great titles. How fitting for me. But they were thick, and would take at least a few days to finish each. Something to keep me from getting bored out of my skull.

            The frog picked what looked like porno magazines and hopped onto his bed eagerly, flipping through them.

            Wheels squeaking, the cart moved on.

            Drago flipped idly through one of his magazines, then looked over at me. "You got regular ole books?"

            "Yes? You have a problem with that?"

            "What are ya?" He laughed, baring his teeth. "Let me guess. Yer a faggot, right?"

            "What?"

            "Ya heard me. Yer a cock-lover, right?"

            I scowled.

            "Don't deny it. Who the hell would pick those fricken' books over shit like this?" He waved his magazine. "Pussy in here. Young, hot, wet pussy. Ya passin' up this shit for books; yer fuckin' gay, man."

            "Fuck you." It was a lame response, but I was too insulted to be insulting.

            "Oh man, Flying Frog, he wants to fuck me? Ya hear him?"

            "I heard him," said the frog.

            I gritted my teeth. "Go to hell, both of you."

            The wolf grabbed at his crotch. "Ya like this, don't ya? Ya'd be droolin' if I got a woodie, wouldn't ya? Well, I ain't gonna. I only get woodies over chicks, thank ya very much."

            I closed my eyes and hoped I wouldn't lose my temper. That would not be good.

             "Damn, he's thinking about me," said Drago. "Thinking about screwing me. Whatta fag."

            A surge of anger brought me to my feet. My fists were clenched and I snarled at the wolf through the bars that separated his cell from mine. Then I realized how stupid I must look.

            The wolf was huge. He was at least six feet tall. His chest was more than two feet wide.

            "Whatcha gonna do? Beat me up?" The wolf laughed and came up to bars. I glared up at him. "Don't worry man, I'm only teasin'. Ya just better not hit on me. I'll bust yer little ass."

            "I'm not gay," I said.

            "Whatever. Ya must just be a freak."

            "I must be." I rolled my eyes and backed away from the bars. The wolf chuckled.

            'The Terrible Rage' was one of those books that has a slow beginning. I wanted to stop reading, but didn't. It gave hints that better things were to come. I've read books with the most lousy beginnings, and further in they become excellent.

            Nevertheless, I was about to try the other book instead, when a guard came by.

            "You boys hungry?"

            "Yeah," said Drago and Flying Frog in unison.

            "Is the food going to be edible this time?"

            The guard smirked at me. "A smart-ass, huh?"

            "I'm just being truthful."

            "Yah, guess you are." The guard laughed heartily.

            In this place, it seems we were either chained, fenced in, or else watched extremely close. We were led down to the cafeteria in a single file line. A guard closed up the line; he had a high-powered plasma rifle. The frog was last in line. I kept hearing him yelp, "Hey, quit pokin' me with that thing! I'm movin'!"

            When we got to the café' (as it was graciously called), we each were handed a tray. There was a long line leading up to a counter where the food was given out by sour-faced cooks. I was almost up to the counter when a weasel came up to me. I recognized him instantly.

            It was Nick, or Knock...whatever, the bounty hunter.

            "'Ey, I know yoouuu," he said.

            "Yes," I said warily.

            "Yer Fat-boy's little ass-kisser."

            "Not anymore," I said.

            "Yeah? And why not?"

            "Because he's dead. And I killed him." I said it with a sneer. Somehow I thought that would make it sound true.

            "You?" He laughed uproariously. "Yeah right!"

            "Welllll...it was indirectly...but still. I take some of the credit."

            He eyed me shrewdly, his ridiculous fang jutting over his lower lip.      "Eh...that I can believe. Yer the sneaky bastard type."

            I took that as a compliment and smiled.

            "I was thinking..." He put a friendly arm around my shoulder, which I didn't like. "...yer kinda smart...I'm kinda smart."

            "Yes, so?" I stepped sideways. His hand slid off.

            "I was thinkin'...we could, ya know, plan a bust togetha. I mean...anyone who can blow Fatboy ta hell can bust outta some ole prison, eh?"

            I looked around as discreetly as possible. Some of the guards, especially the coati one, were gazing over the line. More specifically, they were gazing at us. We were the only ones talking. And after my 'escape attempt', I suppose they got suspicious. The coati headed our way.

            Nack eased back to his place in the line. His movements were smooth, like water. He was tough. I wondered why, then...why had he never outdone Sonic? The hedgehog was fast...but not immune to surprise attacks.

            The coati should've backed off then. But he didn't. He came straight up to me, reached out his tan and white hand and grabbed me.

            "HEY!" I exclaimed. He shook me.

            "I don't like your face, Overlander. So if you step even a millimeter outta line, I'm gonna make you pay." He shook me again. "You got that?"

            I tried to pry his hands off. This seemed to anger him though; he shook me harder until my head snapped back and forth. I thought he was going to break my neck.

            I have long since learned that, if I cannot escape somebody, and they are stronger than me, to just submit. I did just that. I let my body go limp, averted my eyes to floor. I was harmless.

            He seemed to sense this and let me go. I rubbed my neck with one hand, grimacing. It hurt. I had a crink in it.

            "You didn't have to do that," I said. "I comprehend things just fine...I don't need them beaten into me."

            "Like I said, I DON'T LIKE YOUR FACE!" He practically screamed it at me.

            No use reasoning with this guy. I looked down at the floor.

            "That's better. Just you remember what I said. Because I ain't lying. You hear me?"

            "Yes sir," I said. Being polite never hurt, even though I was wishing I could hurt him. Badly.

            He snorted and walked off. I stepped back into line.

            "That guy is a total dickhead," said the frog behind me.

            "Yeah, loves sticking his dickhead up other people's asses," said Drago from in front of me.

            "Ewww...gross!" cackled the frog.

            I sighed. There was no intelligence in this place. Except for me, of course. Oh well. I dealt with it in Robotropolis, I suppose I could deal with it here. Although being surrounded by incompetents was sure to give me migraines.

            I was at the counter. The cook was a scraggly dog-type, with fat cheeks and mean slanty eyes. He scooped up a large ladleful of grayish white crap and slapped it into my bowl.

            "Enjoy," he said.

            "I won't," I replied sweetly.

            The food wasn't as bad as it looked. That was a good thing. But still, I knew that if I ate too much, I'd get nauseous.

            "Ya know what this stuff looks like?" The wolf addressed our table. He held a spoonful of the goop out.

            "What?" asked the white dog who'd harassed me earlier.

            "Looks like they scrapped this crap outta some guy's skivvies after a wet dream."

            The frog laughed and there were groans from the others. Drago chuckled and slurped the goop off his spoon. I looked down at my bowl and pushed it away, my stomach twisting.

            Drago's eyes were on me. They were the color of sky and earth. I glanced up at him.

            "Lost yer appetite?"

            "I didn't have one in the first place."

            He shook his spoon at me. "Now...that's yer problem, cueball. Ya don't eat enough."

            "You've been possessed by my mother?"

            The wolf laughed. He had nice white teeth. Very sharp. Sometimes I wondered if the carnivore Mobians ever thought of the other Mobians as food. I wondered if he thought of me as food. It didn't even have to be an outright thought, it could be some primal thing, tucked far back into his consciousness...

            "Nah, but ya know I'm right. Yer skinny cause ya don't eat."

            "He's just a wuss," said the white dog. He laid his brown eyes on me. "How'd you end up here anyway, hoooman?"

            The table (The white dog, Sleuth, Drago, Nack, the frog, and an ugly blue hawk) began to elaborate.

            "I say he got thrown in here cause he's ugly," said Sleuth.

            "Maybe because he's a hoooman," said the white dog.

            "Probably stabbed somebody with his nose, heh."

            The frog laughed. He seemed like an easily amused fellow.

            "He probably butt-rammed somebody with it," said Drago. "He's a faggot, ya know."

            "I coulda guessed," said the white dog. He bent his spoon back, sending goop my way. It hit the table just a few inches in front of me.

            "I'm not gay," I said.

            "Sure," laughed Drago.

            "Why you in here, then?" demanded the white dog.

            "I worked for Robotnik. Practically ran the city myself."

            "You lived in Robotropolis?" He sounded just a teeniest bit impressed.

            "Yes," I smirked. "I was second-in-command."

            "No way."

            "Yes."

            The white dog stirred his goop. "What about that android feller, Packard Bell?"

            "Packbell? I was higher rank than him."

            "Well, how do you like that? What made you so special?"

            "I'm smart. Robotnik knew it, so he picked me." It sounded corny, even to me.

            "He's his nephew, that's why." The white wolf let his spoon clatter into his empty bowl.

            "Ahh." The white dog waved his hand. "That's the only reason. Lucky break, s'all."

            I almost laughed at that. Lucky break?! It was so damn ridiculous. They thought I was lucky to have lived in that city. They didn't know how I suffered.

            They seemed disinterested in me now.

            "Anyone read 'Lolita's Hard Work'?"

            "What's it about?" asked Sleuth.

            "Ohhooohooo, man, you gotta read it!" crooned the white dog. "It's got some of the skankiest, nastiest crap I've ever seen, man..."

            Guard Smiley came around, his eyes sweeping over us. He saw the empty bowls of most everybody, and my nearly full one.

            "Ya still ain't eatin'?"

            "'Ey, I just told some little joke, and he got all squeamish," snorted Drago.

            "What a wimp," said Smiley. "But it's too late to eat now. Time to go back to ya cells."

            I paced the cell. "So, where do we go next?"

            "Get a potty break later tonight. Then, that's it." The white wolf reached under his bed to get his magazines. "Trust me, cueball, today was a thrill ride compared to most."

            I didn't know whether to take that as good news or bad. After all, I'd been insulted and hassled all day. On the other hand...I could go insane from boredom.

            It had been boring in Robotropolis. But at least I wasn't stuck in one room. At least I could get outside sometimes. And at least I had my alcohol... And my painkillers. Couldn't forget those. With those two drugs in my system, I could handle the boredom.

            But here, I wasn't sure.

Chapter 2: Thoughts and Stuff

I have as much rage as you have

I have as much pain as you do

I've lived as much hell as you have

And I've kept mine bubbling under for you

---Alanis Morrisette “Sympathetic Character”

            The next day I awoke around 8:00. It was late by my usual standards. In Robotropolis, I was usually up at 6:00. It was kind of unnecessary. There usually wasn't that much work to do, but Robotnik expected me to be up before sunrise, and so I was.

            I closed my eyes, sprawling out lazily on the bed. At least I could relax here. Unlike that city. How hard I worked there. Getting up early every morning, working all day, sometimes all night. Robotnik kept me working constantly. It wasn't always important things either. When there wasn't much going on, he made me compile and write stupid reports.

            In my free time, I didn't usually relax. I had my own work, which mainly included plotting against ole Uncle Julian.

            Robotnik thought I was conniving. He didn't trust me. Which was one reason he treated me so badly. But I wasn't crafty at first. As the abuse got worse, I realized I had to get rid of him. So I became what he thought I was; conniving, backstabbing, a double-crosser.

            There were times I almost got caught. It was terrifying. Robotnik's eyes would get all crazed, and he would get ready to hurt and maim my poor poor body. But I always managed to get out of it. I was really a superb liar. That, combined with my groveling, was usually enough to get my feet out of the grave.

            Then, Robotnik came up with that 'Ultimate Annihilator' idea. At first, I was actually excited about it. Knothole would be destroyed! Mobius would finally be ours...well, Julian's anyway.

            Robotnik was thrilled at the prospect of a leveled Knothole. He actually treated me better in the days following the machine's completion.

            I had a few sleepless nights that week...I admit it. I wondered what would happen if Robotnik used the machine, and destroyed Knothole. Would he treat me better? Or would it be the same? Should I tweak the machine, make it destroy Robotnik? If I didn't, then my chance was gone.

            But finally, I did go through with it. The machine was being created in one of Robotnik's labs. I created a loop tape, and installed it in the surveillance camera in the lab. It looped an empty room, over and over...because if Robotnik saw me on the surveillance tapes, tinkering with his 'baby', he'd have me slaughtered.

            I was not caught. I did my 'adjustments' on select nights; nights when Robotnik was sleeping, and Packbell was in his lab way on the other side of the city.

            The day Robotnik used it, I was floating on a haze made by my painkillers and alcohol mixed; I knew I shouldn't do that... But if the machine didn't work, if Robotnik wasn't killed...would he notice something was wrong? Would he suspect me? I figured if I was going to be beaten to death, I misewell numb myself to the pain...

            But all went well, for me, anyway. Robotnik, and Packbell too, I suspect, were both 'blown to hell' as Nack had said.

            But then, those monsters, those furry brats...they came. They took it all away. My ultimate dream, snatched right from my hands...by a couple of kids! They came in, and I, still woozy from my 'celebrating', was too stupid in the head to stop them.

            The big skunk freedom fighter caught me with some net. I knew I was captured, perhaps heading to my trial (and inevitable death) in Knothole, but I was too wasted to care. I insulted the princess, laughed as the skunk slung me over his shoulder and headed away from the city.

            But now...I can't laugh.

            "Ya know what I would do to her?" Drago was talking across my cell to Flying Frog. He was holding his porn magazine in his hand.

            "What?" asked the frog.

            "I'd open up them legs, nice and slow. Suck on her toes a little, women, they like that."

            "Lick her up like an ice cream sundae," chuckled the frog.

            "Yeah!" Drago laughed and ran his hand up and down the bars separating his cell from mine.

            "Do you mind?" I growled. The wolf was practically yelling in my ear.

            "What's yer problem, cueball?" The wolf flipped through his magazine, then regarded me with a sneer.

            "Yeah, why you flippin' out? Just wake up and BAM! You're all cranky."

            I should ignore them. They're obviously below me. Heathens, really. But am I really any better? How stupid. Of course I am. I'm human...they're animals. Just silly talking animals.

            I shouldn't talk to them. Inferior species didn't deserve to converse...oh hell. Arrogance is not the way to go when you're stuck in a cell for God knows how long...

            "I was just thinking," I said.

            "What about?"

            "The rebels."

            "You mean the Freedom Fighters."

            "Yes. I hate them. I want to kill them for what they did..."

            Drago snarled. "Yeah, they suck. I want to strangle all of 'em." He clenched his huge fists.

            "Me too!" chimed in the overly optimistic frog. "They're the ones that put me in here."

            "There's a certain bitch I need to pay back," the wolf hissed. His hands clenched on the bars, shaking them.

            I leaned back on the bed, resting my head against the wall. "I was so close to having Robotropolis. Do you know what that's like? To be that close, and have it taken away..."

            Drago sat cross-legged on his bed. It sagged under his heavy weight. "I do know what ya mean. That Robotnik promised me a portion of Robotropolis."

            "Oh, did he?" I turned my head to look at him. "You wouldn't have gotten it, either way. If he lived, he wouldn't have given it to you, and I certainly wouldn't give it to you."

            "Puh," he snorted. "And why not?"

            "Because you're a moron. That part of the city would be in shambles within a week."

            "Puh," said the wolf again. "I would've built that baby up, built some kickass weapons, and wiped out them little brats. That bitch too."

            "Hey, hey, what's all this noise?" The two main guards, Marshe and Smiley appeared in the hallway.

            "Sounds like our newbie is blending in well," said Smiley.

            "Yeah, didn't know you guys would talk to an Overlander." Marshe said it with the same contempt I held for Mobians.

            "He's not all that bad," said the frog.

            "Yeah, for a fag."

            I opened my mouth to protest, but realized it wouldn't do any good. Why the wolf insisted on calling me a homosexual was beyond me, but it was obvious he wouldn't stop. I just hoped nobody would believe him. I get teased for enough things.

            "You guys talking about Sonic?" asked Marshe.

            "Somewhat. The whole lot of bastards, actually."

            "Personally don't care for the spineball, myself," said Marshe. The middle-aged guard whistled. "But the princess, now that's a different story!"

            "I'd go for her myself," said Drago. "I'd like to see her in one of these magazines, spread out nice and wide."

            I refrained from rolling my eyes. Would I seem gay if I didn't agree? I just didn't believe in porn. It was degrading to women, demeaning... Funny, I could be cruel and condescending to any and all in Robotropolis, but I would never single someone out because they were a woman...

            Marshe was wagging his finger at Drago. "Now, now wolfie, that's not gonna happen. The princess spreading for anyone, it'd be me, not your dirty mags."

            Smiley shook his head. "Knock it off, ya two. The princess isn't a whore. She's our leader, and ya should treat her like one."

            We all just looked at him. Funny to see such a dick-headed man having a softspot for the little princess.

            "Aww, yer just gay," said Drago.

            The frog laughed.

            Marshe took a ring of keys out of his pocket. "We didn't come around just to chat. It's potty time!"

            He opened Drago's cell and led the wolf off to the bathroom, I assume. I realized then how much I had to go; my stomach was cramping up and I felt suddenly panicky in that Oh-my-God-I-have-to-piss way. I must've missed the bathroom break last night; I fell asleep early.

            "Hey, Sniv'."

            "What?" I turned to the frog, bouncing on my bed a little. I had an almost overwhelming urge to clasp my hands between my legs like a little kid, but resisted.

            "That guard, Marshe, he's a big pervert, man. You gotta show him whose boss or he'll totally mess with ya."

            "What do you mean?" I frowned.

            "He'll try and grope ya."

            I frowned deeper.

            "I showed him though, man. Totally whooped his ass. He tried to grab my crown jewels..." I turned away from him, while he happily babbled on.

            "Hey now," said Smiley. "Marshe don't do that."

            "...kicked him right in the nuts, he went flying..." The frog laughed. "Stop lying, Smiles, you know I'm telling the truth."

            "No, ya ain't!" The guard shot back.

            Marshe was coming back, so the frog and Smiley shut up. He opened my cell door, beckoning with a broad hand and a smile. I walked out, feeling his presence too close to me as he led me down to the bathroom.

            As I walked, I observed the scenery. Rows of cells, some full. A long stretch of hallway, what appeared to be stairs at the end. There was a side hallway coming up. I could feel Marshe's breath on the back of my neck.

            Wonder if I can outrun him. I certainly can't outfight him. Can't outfight anybody, really, but then again he was bigger and stronger than me, as was everyone. I'd have to fight with every ounce of strength to get away from him, and even then, it wouldn't be enough.

            We turned down the side hallway, and there were several doors. He led me through one and into a cruddy bathroom.

            I nearly ran to the toilet (there were no urinals) with my need to relieve myself. I unzipped my grayish-blue prison uniform to the navel, and then stopped.

            He was leaning against the wall, staring at me. I gave him one of those 'do you mind' looks, but he didn't turn away.

            My teeth clenched, and I almost whimpered with frustration. I can't piss with him watching...but I can't hold it any longer.

            "Go ahead," he said. A smile crept onto his face.

            "Turn around," I said.

            "No."

            "I'm not going anywhere."

            "That's right, you’re not. Not until you take a piss." He turned on one of the faucets. The sound of the water rushing into the sink almost drove me mad, and I gritted my teeth in a very apparent effort not to wet my pants.

            "C'mon boy, I know you gotta go. You missed your break last night."

            "You can't just turn around? I swear, I'm not going to try to escape."

            "I don't care about that. You can't get away from me."

            "Then quit staring at me."

            "No." The smile, all quirky and irritating, widened.

            I realized then that Flying Frog was right. He was a pervert. He wanted to watch. Would he try and grope me, as the frog had said?

            I sighed, giving in to my body. I unzipped my uniform the rest of the way, and did my business, doing my damnedest not to give him any peek-a-boos.

            He reached over as I finished, pressing the little button on the toilets. The water sucked down the toilet at an incredible speed. You could lose your hand to that suction. New water flowed in.

            I zipped my suit up fast, not wanting to get groped.

            "Cute tool," he said.

            "Excuse me?" I moved to the sink. The soap was a goopy pink liquid. I rubbed it over my hands, washing each finger individually. I'm a clean freak...so what?

            "Cute tool," he repeated.

            I rinsed my hands off and dried them on a napkin.

            "Cute enough to touch," he said. He took a step towards me.

            My eyes widened uncontrollably. I'm afraid of attack. I am not the world's greatest fighter. If I had my laser pistol, I could blow this fellow's little toe off with him standing fifty feet away. But I didn't have it.

            'Show him whose boss', the frog had said. I clenched my fists. I couldn't beat him, but I was not getting groped without a fight.

            "Aw, calm down," he snickered. "I ain't gonna do nothing. Was just scaring you a little."

            And he led me out of the bathroom and back to my cell. Where I must say, I was actually happy to be.

            "So, who caught ya?" asked Drago.

            "Me? It was that skunk fellow."

            "Eh, that's Geoffrey," said the wolf. "I hate him. A big jerk, that one."

            And you aren't? I thought.

            "Guess who got me in here? My bitch. I treated that hoe like a queen, and she turned on me. Frickin' bitch. I owe her big time."

            "Your own girlfriend?" I laughed.

            "Shut yer trap, cueball." Drago stood up and picked up his nighttable. He threw it around, trying to show off his muscles. "Look at this shit. I'm gonna mess her up when I get her. I can mess ya up too."

            I wasn't really impressed. But I realized, maybe I should work out a little. I looked around, saw my two thick novels. They were pretty heavy. I hefted them up, one in each hand. They made good weights.

            Drago watched me lift the books and scoffed. "Surprised ya can lift anythan."

            "I have some muscle," I protested.

            "Sure."

            "I do."

            "Show us then."

            "No." I sat down on the bed.

            "Aw, c'mon."

            "No thanks."

            "C'MON! Won't stop bugging ya until ya dooo!"

            "Fine," I sighed. I hiked up my sleeves and flexed what little bicep I had.

            "HA! Ya call that a muscle?! That's like a little bump er somethan'." He smiled as I glared. "Eh, don't feel so bad. It was more than I expected. Now show us yer legs. It ain't just arms that are important. It's everythan, baby."  He stood on one leg and thrust the other out, pointing his toe so the muscles hardened under his tight uniform.

            So I showed off my legs, feeling a little embarrassed. They were nicely muscled, but nothing compared to the almighty Drago. Still, the wolf gave a little whistle. "Guess ya ran around a lot."

            "Yes," I said.

            "What about yer belly?" He unzipped his grays to show one of those torsos that rippled with muscles and a nice six-pack.

            "I'm not showing that."

            "Skin and bone, eh?"

            "Besides running around, I got trained a little by Commander Packbell," I said.

            "Eh, really? That's that android bastard, right?"

            I nodded.

            "Hmph, what's he like?"

            "He's a bastard, as you said. Big, tall. Not as muscled as you, but," I shrugged, "he didn't need it. He was much stronger than he looked."

            "Not stronger than me," scoffed the wolf.

            "Yes he was."

            The wolf snorted, but I continued...starting to fall into memories as I talked. Pretty soon, I wasn't even talking anymore, and Drago and Flying Frog quickly turned their attentions back to their magazines.

            Packbell...hmmm. What is there to say about Packbell? So much. There's so damn much. And at the same time, so damn little.

            I HATE Packbell. I hate him so much. Every time I saw him, I'd start to tremble; my hatred was so deep, I just couldn't contain it.

            When Robotnik first unveiled Packbell, I thought it was nifty. I thought it would reduce some of the work I had, and I thought it'd be someone to talk to. I should've known better.

            I've seen androids before, and some of them I've seen were so confused. They realized they were made, not born, and it hurt them. They didn't know what to do. They thought they weren't real. It was sad really, because being born of a mother is something you don't think about. You take it for granted. To know you were created...molded and wired and your personality is just something that somebody made up...

            But Packbell wasn't like them...he knew he wasn't real...but he didn't care. He didn't care if he was just a machine, because he saw himself as superior to everything.

            In a way, he was.

            Robotnik made Packbell handsome. But Robotnik wasn't phased by Packbell's beauty, because Robotnik thought round was the perfect shape. And Robotnik certainly was a big fat circle.

            Packbell had silky black hair and red eyes, a small nose and perfect silvery teeth, and fair skin. His frame was tall and lean, and rock-hard. He didn't need to be bulked out with muscle. He was stronger than any human could possibly be.

            I wasn't jealous. He was beautiful, he was tall. He was loved by Robotnik, while I was treated like trash. But I wasn't jealous. I was just resentful.

            It was Packbell's personality I hated. And perhaps that fueled my hatred of Robotnik at the same time, because Julian's the one who created Packbell's fucked-up mind.

            Packbell was programmed to be wicked. He was more than wicked though. He was sadistic, cruel, evil... he was anti-love, anti-life. Packbell's main joy in life was tormenting others. He got off on it. Nothing was funnier to him than some poor soul screaming in agony. Prisoners who were once arrogant and strong were reduced to whimpering babies after a session with him.

            Needless to say, I wasn't exactly comfortable when Packbell was around. One of his hobbies was irritating the shit out of me. Fortunately it didn't usually go beyond just irritating...but there were a few times when Packbell had really hurt me. Reprimands from Robotnik didn't seem to phase Packbell; any chance he got to torment me, he took it.

            My eyelids were getting heavy and I snuggled up on the bed, getting as comfortable as possible.

            But my dreams were hardly pleasant...

            It wasn't only a dream, but a memory.

            What was I doing? Ah yes...working in my lab. Some experiment or another. I was typing out the results, playing a nice soft classical piece on my mini-stereo.

            I heard the door slide open, and turned in my chair. The Commander had entered and just stood for a second, looking around. Under one arm he held a small round dartboard. I saw the tips of darts sticking out of his breast pocket.

            "Hey Snively-ively, do you mind if I play a game of darts in here?"

            "Uh..." I looked at him, wary and surprised. "I'm trying to work, actually. Go play it somewhere else."

            "I want to play it HERE," he said, with all the insistence of a bratty toddler.

            "I said no, Packbell, now leave me alone." I turned back to my keyboard. The android was apparently hard of hearing; he stuck the magnetic-backed dartboard to the wall.

            I heard the thuds of darts as they hit the board.

            "Packbell, I thought I told you...what the hell?"

            The android smirked, throwing another dart. It struck the dartboard, where there was a picture pinned up by another dart. A picture of...me.

            "Very funny. Don't you have work to do?"

            "No. Besides, I AM working."

            I sighed and turned back to my keyboard. Fine, he could just throw darts at a picture of me all he wanted. As long as he didn't get in my way.

            My fingers flew over the keys at a furious pace. I wanted to get this data compiled and printed out; I was actually eager to turn the report in to Robotnik. Minutes passed quickly. I stopped to scan my work for typos.

            "Hey Snively," came Packbell's voice. I jumped, having forgotten he was there.

            "What?" I swiveled my chair around. My gaze moved to my picture. It was full of darts. Packbell was pulling them out of the dartboard.

            "I'm ready for the real thing," he said.

            He saw the impatience in my eyes and grinned. "Aw, you know what I'm talking about, Needlenose. I've mastered the photo...now I need the real thing."

            "What?" I asked, even though I had a bad feeling I knew. Packbell grinned wider; he saw the sweat bead on my forehead, heard my breathing get erratic. Though I could lie about so many other things, I could never pull off concealing my fear.

            Fear mixed with Packbell was not a good combination. It was like pouring gasoline on a fire; this fire being Packbell's sadistic nature.

            "Look, I'm working," I said, trying to reason with him, "I'm working on something important, and Robotnik won't like it if you bother me. So I suggest you take your little toys and leave."

            "Are you threatening me, Snively?" he drawled, the grin widening even more.

            "Packbell..."

            "Stand against that wall," he said suddenly.

            "No."

            "C'mon Snivvy, it'll be fun."

            "No, leave me alone. I'm not in the mood..."

            "You're never in the mood for anything fun, are you?" The android mock-pouted. "But it doesn't matter what YOU want, I'm in charge here."

            "I'm higher rank than you," I replied coldly.

            "Oh really?" He leaned forward with all the grace of a hunting cat and snatched me out of the chair. Packbell was six foot five, an impressive height. He lifted me high up; I was dangling five feet above the ground. "You care to enforce that rank?!"

            What could I say? I WAS higher rank than him. But it didn't matter now. He was stronger than me. There was nothing I could do but just shake my head. Packbell chirped in amusement and set me down.

            If I had one wish, it would be to be bigger. Stronger. God, how many situations could I have gotten myself out of if I'd been stronger? There were too many to count.

            "Stand against that wall, 'sir'," he said, mocking me. I was higher rank; but it was unspoken fact that he was superior in Robotnik's eyes, in the eyes of the Freedom Fighters...even in my own eyes.

            I knew there was no beating him, but I wasn't about to surrender. Hatred does that to you.

            He crossed his arms, waiting patiently.

            I didn't move.

            "Wall." He pointed towards it. "You." He pointed at me. "You. Stand. Against. Wall."

            "N.O."

            I was raised off my feet again and carried to the wall. He set me down and gave me a shove. I stumbled backwards, my back hitting the smooth metal. My flailing hand hit the dartboard and it fell, striking me in the head. While I groaned about that, I noticed that Packbell had the darts in his hand.

            My bad feeling increased. I felt queasy now, my knees felt weak. God, I hate this feeling. It makes me want to die, anything to escape this terrible anxiety. Packbell made it worse, smirking and smiling at me as he took a few steps backwards.

            "You make a good target," he said. "I've been wanting to do this for a while. Never got around to it, though. You should be happy; I don't have any work today, that's why I'm here."

            I rubbed my head, and glared. "Get out, Packbell. I don't have time for your---"

            A dart struck the wall inches from my head. The sharp tip hit the wall and bounced off. It skittered across the metal floor. My shocked gaze followed it until it stopped spinning.

            Packbell cursed lightheartedly. "Missed. Oh well. Got plenty of darts, and plenty of time."

            I tried to move, but it was too late. He threw another dart, and I felt stabbing pain in my thigh. "OWWWWW!" I howled and clutched at the dart; the long metal tip was buried in my flesh. I pulled it out, watching the blood seep out of the deep puncture and stain my pants.

            "Goddamn, Packbell!" I tried to skitter away, but ended up crying on the floor, darts sticking out of my body like porcupine quills.

            I heard him laughing, his harsh voice echoing off the walls. Made it sound like there was more than one of him. I groaned at the sound and pulled the darts from my arms and legs.

            "Stand up!" He cackled, sounding excited.

            I curled up on the floor. He can't hurt me if I'm small...what a stupid thought, but nevertheless it was a thought I often had. The smaller I was, the less I could be hurt. It wasn't true, of course, but it made me feel better.

            "Stand up!" he commanded. "Stand up, stand up, stand up!!"

            I whimpered out a negative response. He stomped his foot, enjoying the game. "Stand up, Sniv'!"

            I remained on the floor.

            "Stand up, NOW!" His voice took on a menacing undertone.

            "No, leave me alone!" My hands were smeared with blood and my voice was edged with panic.

            He chuckled gleefully and pulled me to my feet. "Stand up, Snivvy, c'mon. Spread your arms out, and your legs...like a pinwheel. Yeah, that's it."

            A dart glanced off the wall, right between my legs. A few inches up and it would've... I didn't hang around this time. I ran for the door. The android laughed and lunged for me. He missed and I went racing down the hallway. Every step hurt, and sent squirts of blood out of my dart wounds.

            I heard his footsteps behind me and increased my pace. He was giggling and snorting with glee; obviously not trying hard to catch me. If he was really out to get me, he would've caught up with me in two seconds flat.

            "AHHGOD!" The scream broke from my throat; there was a stabbing pain in my calf muscle. I stumbled and briefly considered just giving up and laying there, letting him do what he wanted. Another stab of pain, this time in my shoulder. Hurt extra bad because it glanced off the bone of my shoulderblade. The pain triggered my hatred which triggered me to keep running.

            "Where are you going, Sniv? Don't you want to play anymore?" Packbell's taunting voice floated after me.

            I stumbled into the wall, shrieking in pain. Packbell had a mean aim; he'd thrown a dart right at my ass. It hurt like hell. I pulled it out and threw it down the hallway at the approaching android. He batted it away with a nonchalant hand and stopped in front of me.

            "Get away from me!" I whined. I pressed myself against the wall. The Commander just smiled down at me.

            "You got blood on your uniform, tsk tsk." He wagged his finger at me. I reached down and pulled the dart out of my calf, and clutched it in my hand as a weapon.

            He reached for me and I stabbed at his hand with the dart. He just laughed and pried it out of my hand.

            "Play nice," he crooned. I was grabbed up, kicking and screaming, and brought back to the lab. This time I didn't get away.

            "NOOO!" I jerked awake, nearly falling out of bed. I felt dizzy and leaned back against the wall. I blew out a big breath of relief...the dream was over. That horrid dream...that horrid memory.

            I wondered if I'd been whining in my sleep. I looked around, but Drago and Flying Frog weren't in their cells.

            Hmmm...wonder where they went. No matter. I examined the back wall, pushing against it, trying to find any weakness. There was none.

            I tried the front bars of my cell. I managed to squeeze my narrow shoulder through, but my head wouldn't fit. Damn. No way out.

            There were footsteps down the hall. Drago and Flying Frog were coming back. Drago was smacking his lips. They must've just ate...damn. I missed dinner.

            My stomach growled loudly. "Why didn't I get dinner?" I demanded of Smiley.

            Marshe answered for him. "After the first day, you outta know the schedule. You snooze, you lose."

            "But I'm hungry," I whined.

            "Too bad."

            They walked off.

            I sat down on the bed, feeling sorry for myself.

            Drago picked up his magazine and flipped it open to a page. He stood looking at it for a moment, then thrust it up against the bars between his cell and mine.

            "I bet ya'd like to eat this," he said.

            I looked over and found myself looking between some naked girl's legs. My lip curled up in disgust and I turned away.

            Drago laughed.

            I hated that empty feeling in my belly, but what could I do? I opened up 'The Terrible Rage' and tried to ignore the occasional rumbling.

            Her smile was flat, not colored by any happy emotion. "Casey is a coward," she said, speaking to Val as if Casey wasn't right there, standing and frowning at her voice.

            "And a fool. He doesn't see what's right in front of him. Rebecca loves him. It's practically written out on her forehead." She finally addressed Casey. "She would die for you, you know."

            "You're lying," said Casey. "She can't love me. I don't even pay attention to her! I don't even treat her nice!"

            I looked up for a moment, frowning. It'd been nagging at me throughout my reading of this book; this Rebecca character acted a lot like my cousin, Devon.

            I closed the book, marking my place with a dog-ear. My head rested on my hands as I thought a little bit about Devon.

            Devon was younger than me by three years. She has green-blue eyes, very pretty, and long reddish-orange hair that reaches to her knees. As long as I can remember, she's worn it the same way. She puts it in a ponytail, with just a long chunk of bangs in the middle of her forehead. She has a fine body...those full hips, those legs, nicely muscled, her breasts...

            I bit down on my lip. Shouldn't be thinking that way about her...

            Her personality was pleasant enough, if not a bit stubborn. She wasn't exactly outgoing, but wasn't shy either. She always spoke her mind, even though she should've held her tongue sometimes. She was strong though, much stronger than me, even though she was tiny.

            Devon was strange in one way...she was in love. With me. Or so she says...

            Dev moved to Mobius around the same time as my family. We came to Mobius to escape World War 4...and ended up in the midst of Mobius's Great War. Eventually her parents were killed by Acorn soldiers. I guess it was an accident; the animals thought they were Overlanders. Mind you, the Overlanders weren't every human on Mobius. Just the group that rebelled. But the name has come to mean the human species itself.

            So, after the death of her parents, Devon and her annoying sister DaSilva came to live with us. I was fine with it. My father adored those two. Took his mind off me...which meant I got beaten less.

            Devon always seemed fond of me, but I never knew how fond until she started, for lack of a better phrase, coming on to me. She was always grabbing at me, smiling and laughing, even asking me to be her date for school dances and such. I thought she was crazy, so I never took her up on her offers.

            I closed my eyes, remembering a time when she was obviously displeased with my choice of a date. Laura Malkovitch. She was the cheerleader type. She was very beautiful, very luscious, and very envied...

            I was in my room, feeling pretty good about myself. I had just landed myself a date with Ms. Beauty herself. Of course, I'd helped her on her science project, and knew this was just her way of paying my back. After that, I doubted she'd have anything to do with me. But still, I felt lucky.

            My door flew open. I turned fearfully, expecting to see my father, but it was Devon. Her arms were crossed over her chest, her cheeks flushed. "Tell me it's not true," she said.

            "What's not true?" I asked.

            "You aren't going out with Laura?"

            "Yes, so what?"

            I watched as her fingernails dug into her arms. Why the hell was she so mad...?

            "I asked you to that dance."

            "For your information, Devon, we aren't going to the dance...and besides, I wouldn't have gone with you anyway."

            The nails dug deeper. "Why not?"

            "Uhh...maybe because you're my cousin...?"

            "So what." She said it as a statement, not a question.

            "So what...don't you think that's just a tad weird?"

            "No."

            "You're so damn crazy. Get out of here. I don't know who you think you are, always barging in here."

            "Oh well, excuuuse me," she snapped, coming further into the room. "But you know what? You make me wanna explode. I can't take it. I CAN'T!!" She picked up a chair and threw it with such force that it scared me. I was honestly shaken, and I backed away and sat on the bed.

            She turned to look at me, her normally bright eyes smoldering over.

            "You piss me off," she said.

            I just stared at her.

            "You really piss me off," she repeated. Now her fists clenched and she took a step towards me.

            She grabbed my shoulders, her long nails digging in. I met her furious eyes. Her anger swirled in the depths, like sand stirred up on the bottom of a lake. It frightened me. Then she grabbed my hair roughly and yanked my face towards hers.

            Her lips...they touched against mine, and then her tongue was inside my mouth. I jumped in surprise and almost pulled away, but she had my hair tight in her grip and I was immobile.

            I felt her tongue, tickling against mine, rubbing against my teeth, flicking against the roof of my mouth. It made me almost dizzy. I felt weird shivers in my belly, and then I felt myself...

            Devon shoved me away. "You prick," she said.

            I grabbed my pillow to hide my lap.

            "You wouldn't get that if you didn't care," she snarled.

            "I can't help getting it," I said. "It just happened. I don't control it."

            "It controls you, right? IS THAT IT? IS THAT WHY YOU BETRAYED ME!?"

            "I DON'T BELONG TO YOU!" I screamed back. "I AM NOT COMMITED TO YOU IN ANY WAY, DEVON!! GET THAT THROUGH YOUR THICK SKULL!"

            She grabbed the water glass off my nighttable and threw it at me. I put my hands up to shield my face; it struck me in the arm and glanced off. I heard the shatter as it hit the floor.

            I got up and smacked her.

            She put her hand up to her cheek, looking shocked. Then she smacked me back, snapping my head hard to the side. The classic 'girl slaps bastard' kind of smack.

            I brought my head back slowly and glared directly into her eyes. "I'm going on a date with Laura. And there's nothing you can do about it."

            "I hate you," she said. She whirled to leave. I could hear her breath puffing out in anger and in that moment, I knew it was just the opposite.

            I raised my head off my arms. How angry she'd been that day. How beautiful she looked when she was angry. And the kiss...I still remembered it. It was one of the most amazing things I'd ever experienced.

            I sighed and was about to sit up on the bed when I realized something. I felt it pressing into the mattress. For God's sake, I had a hard-on. I rarely got them, not being one to really waste my time thinking of sex.

            I squirmed a little on the bed, and let out a quiet sigh, because it did feel quite nice...

            I looked stealthily over to Flying Frog, then to Drago. They seemed engrossed in their magazines. Good.

            I wiggled my lower body as discreetly as possible. I felt so foolish, but the pleasant sensations were too nice to stop.

            Wiggled harder, harder. The feeling was building up in my belly...I fought to keep my breathing steady. Barely aware of my fingers digging hard into my thin blanket...

            Oh Godd...Goddd...

            I buried my head in my arms, biting my lip hard to keep from making noise. My toes strained and stretched and I felt warmth between my legs, a pleasant wet warmth...

            I raised my head up a few minutes later. My cheeks felt flushed.

            Drago looked over at me.

            "Guess you did get porn after all," he said.

Chapter 3: Naked Butts and Metal Hands

And if you're guilt, then I'm the shame

            And if I'm hurt, then you're the blame

---Sneaker Pimps "Waterbaby"

            "Guess what happened next in "Lolita's Hard Work?" The white dog asked at the breakfast table the next morning.

            "What Ernie?" asked the ugly blue hawk.

            "Lolita just got boned by three guys. At once!"

            "Damn, Lolita should come here," said Sleuth.

            "Well, there was some excitement in cueball's cell last night," Drago spoke up.

            I looked up from my tray and glared at him.

            "Cueball did a little ‘banana-peeling’ last night."

            The entire table laughed.

            Drago spoke again, still chuckling. "First he begged me for a BJ, but I said 'no way, ya little creep'. Then he said 'ok, a handjob then'. I was like 'no! I ain't touchin' ya, ya faggot!"

            "Then what?" asked Ernie, the white dog. I was squeezing my fork in my fist, wondering if I could reach Drago across the table, and how hard I'd have to stab to reach his heart.

            "Then he tried Flying Frog, but he said no too, I mean, he ain't no fag. So cueball decided to bang the bed instead."

            They laughed even louder. I tried to look angry, but humiliation took over and I hung my head, cheeks red.

            I was still sitting that way when the guards came by. But they didn't lead us back to our cells. Instead we headed down another hallway.

            "Where are we going?"

            "The shower," said Drago. "And don't ya try anythan'."

            "You are such a prick, Drago. Why did you have to say all that stuff?"

            "Because it was funny."

            "Stop talking," growled Marshe.

            I looked into the shower room. It was a typical shower room. Tiled floor, lots of shower heads along the walls. There was a heavy door with a bar on it. I guess they locked us inside the shower room. I didn't like that idea. In fact, I didn't like the idea of getting naked in front of these guys. They had fur at least...

            The other inmates unzipped their uniforms and threw them in a big pile on the floor. They wandered into the showerroom, their feet slapping against the ceramic tile.

            Marshe and Smiley and some other guard looked at me.

            "What are you waiting for?"

            I looked into the shower room again. I was afraid to go in there. What if they tried to hurt me? What if they tried to...

            "Get in there," said Marshe.

            I didn't like being dirty, but still...

            "Am I gonna have to rip those clothes off you?" Marshe took a step towards me, looking like he would enjoy it.

            I took a step back. "Fine..."

            I kept a good grip on the bar of soap Smiley had given me. I know it's silly...that old 'don't drop the soap' cliché, but still, I wasn't chancing anything.

            "Awww man! Sniv' tried to buttram me!" shrieked Ernie. Laughter echoed off the walls. I glared, trying to wash off fast in hopes of getting out of there quicker.

            I'd expected a lot of teasing of my body, but there wasn't any. The others seemed more intent on washing themselves, and not looking around too much. Good. I did the same.

            When I did glance around quickly to assure nobody was coming after me, I noticed there was a big glass window between the shower room and the dressing room. I was disturbed that Marshe was staring at everybody with a weird smile on his face. His eyes met mine and I saw his tongue come out, and wiggle a little bit. I turned away, but I could still feel his gaze on me. Great. Like I need more problems.

            The guards had a pile of folded clothes when we came out. Clean clothes until the next shower, I assume. As we toweled off, the guards called off numbers from the breast pocket of the clothes.

            "Number 78."

            "Over here." Ernie reached out his hands and the guards gave him his new clothes.

            I got my new pair. There was a white undershirt, made up of long-underwear material. The uniform itself was a grayish-blue pilot-type suit, with a zipper. There was a pair of socks, and some black boots. My number was 212.

            I hopped around trying to get the socks onto my feet, and accidentally crashed into Sleuth.

            "Get offa me!" he howled, and shoved me hard. I crashed into the wall, and then my sockless foot slipped on the tile. I ended up on the floor, my left hand slamming into the metal leg of one of the benches. The metal on that bench leg was sharp! I knew my hand was cut before I looked at it.

            I looked at the cut. It tingled in that numb way which usually meant a deep cut. But this cut wasn't that bad. I saw a glint of metal and realized, this was my robotic hand. No wonder I didn't feel any pain. That skin wasn't real; just looked it. Only had minimal nerve endings, enough to feel damage, but not pain.

            Marshe pulled me up, but he didn't notice my wound. Good.

            Back in the cell, I laid on my bed, with my sheet wrapped around my hand. Although it wasn't bleeding, it was just an old habit of mine to put pressure on a wound. I knew how to take care of myself. Living with Robotnik, I had to learn to tend to minor injuries. Things like stopping bleeding, popping dislocated limbs back into place, you know. That sort of thing.

            Drago flipped through his porn magazine, but soon looked up from it.

            "Man, I wish the cart came around more. Already looked through all these. Need some new babes."

            "I thought you never got tired of that junk."

            "Yeah, sometimes I do, cueball. Not tired of nudies, course, but tired of the same nudies over and over."

            "What did your girlfriend say about your porno obsession?"

            "Aw, she was cool with it. She got good lovin', she wasn't complainin'. 'Sides, man, she didn't know about it. Girlfriends don't hafta know everythan. But ya wouldn't know anything about that. Ya probably never had a girl in yer whole life."

            I didn't say anything. Granted, I HAD had girlfriends. None of those relationships had lasted too long. I just don't have the skill needed to commit to, and love another being like that.

            "Never had a girlfriend, eh? What about a boyfriend? Had plenty of those, I bet."

            "SHUT UP!" I yelled at him. He smiled in an infuriating manner. My calm fled from me, leaving me exploding with rage. I shook my fist at Drago, snarling, but he merely scoffed and laughed.

            Suddenly, his mocking look changed to something different; something suspicious and even angry. His hand shot out, grabbing my hand through the bars. I struggled but he pulled me towards him. I couldn't see what he was doing with my head pressed sideways against the bars.

            I let out a shriek when I felt him probing my wound. It didn't hurt, but it was a shock. I heard a little clink as his claws touched the metal beneath the false skin.

            "The hell...?" he muttered. He growled and shoved me away. I landed on the floor, and got up indignantly, brushing myself off.

            "What the hell was that all about?"

            "Yer a robot!" Drago exclaimed.

            "I am not!"

            "Yer a cyborg, then!" he accused. "I hate cyborgs."

            "I'm not a cyborg," I said. "Just my hand is roboticized. But Robotnik wanted it to look real, that's why there's skin."

            "So Robotnik did it to ya, eh?"

            "Yes."

            "Tell us. We need a good story. Right, Frog?"

            "Yeah," said the frog. He sounded half asleep.

            "It's hardly good," I sighed, recalling the event...

             So, I was actually out of the city at the time, and I had captured a group of Mobians. After the thick smog air of the city, which my lungs have long since adapted to, the clean forest air seemed intense, and I was feeling quite heady. I had two SWATs, one which I was worried about, because it kept malfunctioning. I also had a nice plasma rifle with me and so we had herded them into a group. I was telling them that they were going to be roboticized; basically making my cheap-villain speech.

            They weren't impressed, and I caught the eye of this female. Her head was tilted and her neck long and supple...her fur a light light yellow, like gold. She was some sort of weasel thing, maybe a mink. But she was absolutely stunning. Her eyes, they were a dark tidepool blue and narrowed, filled with the shadows and light of the forest.

            And the way she looked at me...it was such a violent contempt, like she'd love to tie me up by the balls and use me for a punching bag. For some reason that caused a stirring in my pants and my eyes wandered all over her golden breasts and powerful legs.

            I was about to start leading them to Robotropolis...hoping I would get to interrogate the mink-girl, when two things went wrong.

            I felt a stinging in my neck...there was a mosquito there. The little bastard was happily draining my jugular vein. I smacked it and then heard a whirring noise. It was the bot malfunctioning. I glanced over at it, and the distraction of mosquito and SWAT was very unhealthy for me.

            The Mobians broke loose and took down the good SWAT with ease. Most of them ran off; a few stayed around to thoroughly trash and rip apart my SWATs. The golden female strode my way, and I could've blown her away with one squeeze of my finger. I didn't. She came right up to me, looked down. Her eyes were hate-containers...filled to the brim.

            "Overlander," she hissed and then she drew her foot back. I probably should've done something, like moved...but no.

            I allowed her to kick me full force in the groin. I allowed her to flee. I just collapsed, curled up like a fetus and wondered if I should be feeling this much pleasure from pain...

            Robotnik was very unhappy. Which is nothing new.  I told him about the escape, voice trembling and my sweat-slicked hands wringing together.

            "Oh Snively," he growled in the voice which meant he was about to hurt me. "You let them get away?"

            "It was an accident, sir," I whined.

            He suddenly smacked me. My cheek stung, my eyes watered.

            "That was an accident too!" he screamed.

            I just whimpered.

            "Why did ya take that crap?" Drago broke in.

            Retard. I glared at him. "What was I supposed to do? Overpower him with my massive strength?"

            Drago smirked. "Ya coulda dodged or something."

            D is for Drago...and for dumb. Which is what Drago is. Dumb and ugly. He had muscles. He was big. There was no way he could understand my situation.

            "I couldn't dodge," I said coldly. "For one, it would only make Robotnik angrier. For two...I couldn't move. I was too scared to move."

            "Too scared?" he scoffed.

            "Yes...haven't you heard of 'paralyzed by fear'?"

            "Me? No."

            I shook my head and continued my story.

            Robotnik's fist was big. It cast a shadow over my face, which was locked in my 'forgive me' mode. That consisted of wide eyes and pouty lips and even a few tears on my cheeks. The fist lowered. I was saved.

            Not quite.

            "This is the perfect opportunity, Snively..."

            I gulped. Because when he was mysterious like this...it was bound to be bad for me. 

            "Come along." He growled and strode from the room. I had no choice but to follow.

            We were standing in the roboticization room.

            "Sir...w-what are we d-d-doing in here?" I asked. My voice was shaking badly, because Robotnik had threatened me with roboticization before.

            "Come here," he said, and led me to one of the smaller roboticizers. It was used for experimenting on prisoners.

            "Put your hand in there," he demanded.

            Roboticization hurt. I knew it did. It was like a woman giving birth...I'd never experienced it but I knew it hurt, and I knew I'd never want to experience it. My instant reaction was fear.

            "No!" I cried. "No!"

            "Do it!" he commanded.

            "No!"

            "DO IT!" He grabbed for me. I was so frantic, I wrenched away. Robotnik was a fat bastard, but he wasn't slow. He lunged for me, his meaty hands closing around the back of my shirt. He yanked me back and I struggled.

            "Let me go! Let go!"

            "Stop it!" he growled. Wasn't used to holding me when I fought. But he could stop me. He closed his hand around the back of my neck. He was good, that one. Got all the pressure points and I went limp. He took my hand and put it on the platform.

            "Sir, please, sir..." I was really crying now. Terror made me a whimpering mess...longing to curl into a small safe place.

            "Now stay still," he growled, "Or you'll get your arm too." And he flipped the button.

            A force held my hand down. I couldn't pull it away. The blue light filtered over my skin. I'd always seen it from a distance; this close up I saw the light had glittery spots in it. It was almost beautiful.

            Then my hand prickled, like tiny needles were stabbing me, and then an unbearable pain began. It was like...like my finger-bones were filled with water, and this water was freezing and expanding and soon my bones would shatter from the pressure.

            "AhhhhhGodddddddd!" I screamed. I thrashed helplessly, but the pain wouldn't go. Now my skin was stretching and breaking, and there was a fine spray of blood. My eyes saw metal. My hand was metal! Robotnik shut down the machine and I collapsed to my knees, sobbing.

            Robotnik pulled me up. My knees knocked together, so he had to hold me up by the back of the collar. He grabbed my hand and examined it.

            "It's beautiful, isn't it?"

            I was crying too hard to reply.

            He snorted and let me fall back to the floor.

            Later on, he put a few devices in my new hand. It included a com link that connected to one in his robotic arm. He said if he ever needed help (Which is highly unlikely, you little wretch!), he could call me on my hand. I thought that was funny, for a couple of reasons. First of all, I never expected to be able to use my hand like a walkie-talkie...second of all, he never said I could call HIM. Oh no. If I needed help, he probably wouldn't even answer.

            I added my own modifications secretly in the following years. It wasn't that bad, not after Robotnik gave me skin on the hand. It looked real, just like Packbell looks like a real human. Sometimes I forgot it was roboticized. All in all, it was all right. I certainly could pack a mean left punch now.

            "That wasn't very nice of him," said Flying Frog.

            "No kidding," I said.

            "But since you have it, can you use it to get outta here?"

            Hmmmm. I never thought of that. How stupid of me. I tried to bend one of the bars enough to squeeze through. But it didn't budge. Just my hand was robotic, not my arm...so there wasn't any power behind it. I tried to punch the bar, in hopes of making it yield. But nothing worked.

            I activated the com link and tried that. "If you hear this, come in! I repeat, if you hear this, come in!"

            Drago and Flying Frog waited. Through the link I could hear the quiet rush of static. No answer. But what had I expected? Robotnik was dead.

            "It's no use. We're stuck here."

            "Man...I was thinkin' maybe ya did have some use. Guess not." Drago snorted and picked up his magazine again.

            I sat down on my bed.

            This sucked.

Chapter 4: Run, run, as fast as you can!

How in the name of Zeus's butthole did you get out of your cell?!

--Stanley Goodspeed (Nicolas Cage)  "The Rock"

            Three weeks later. I was wondering how much longer I was going to be here. I mean...I was one of the big traitors to the Acorn Kingdom. Surely they would want to put me on trial. I knew King Acorn would. I heard he was out of the Void now, but it had screwed up his mind. But still, he had to have enough sense to want revenge.

            Drago's off-key singing was getting on my nerves, and I was hungry. I paced my cell.

            I needed something to drink. Not water. My alcohol. My veins ached for it, and my mind screamed for it. It's just...it floats me away and I feel better. No pain, no boredom. No nothing.

            "I need it," I muttered. "Need it!"

            "Gettin' desperate, eh?" Drago looked downtrodden. "Yeah, me got pussy...and I do mean pussy; my girlfriend was a cat...HAHAHA!!!...but anyway, I got it a lot. It's hard without it, eh?" He drew out one his magazines and flipped it open to a page. Females were sprawled out in obscene positions.

            "You can borrow it if ya want. Just don't get the pages sticky."

            "I don't want that," I growled, my fine-thread temper snapping. "I want a drink. A DRINK DAMMIT!!"

            Drago grabbed his crotch and sneered, "On yer knees and I'll quench yer thirst."

            "Shut up, you bastard," I hissed, giving him my coldest glare. After three weeks, I was more than a little fed up with him.

            Marshe and Smiley laughed. They were always standing around our cells. Had nothing better to do. "Yeah, do it, Sniv'. You'd like it."

            Shallow bastards, all of them.

            I plopped down on my bed, trembling with excessive emotion. Hate. My nails dug into my palms, and they were longer than usual, since I hadn't been able to clip them lately. They left deep moon-shaped wounds that filled with blood.

            "Tell me you have some kind of alcohol," I asked the guards.

            "Don't know about Smiley, but I'm a virgin to that unclean beverage."

            "You're a virgin to something, anyway," I muttered.

            "Oh yeah, Needlenose?! You can't tell me you ain't a virgin. No girl would ever screw you."

            "Except his mama," said Drago. "Probably molested his mama. With his nose, if ya get my drift."

            They all laughed and I felt my anger and rage reach up. It overpowered me and I started to scream. A scream that rubbed my throat raw.

            "Ok, ok, calm down," said Smiley, and he reached into his pocket and drew out his keys while Marshe whipped out a syringe. The cell opened.

            I hung back, then made a mad dash for Marshe. I slammed him full-force with my shoulder and he stumbled. I ducked under the clumsy Smiley's arms and was off, racing down the hallway. The prisoners screamed, excited, cheering me on.

            The guard's boots pounded behind me. I nearly tripped going down the stairs to the lower level. Screw the steps. I leapt down the last five. One of the guards did trip. I heard his heavy body tumbling down, slamming each step.

            I ran for the double doors at the end of the corridor. Then something hit me between the shoulder blades and I heard a crackling noise. Pain struck like lightening to my nerves and I collapsed into a heap of twitching muscles and whimpers.

            I turned over, my eyes...they were rolling everywhere. I could see opposite sides of the room at the same time. How silly.

            I saw a guard looming over me with a frown and a taser. Great. No wonder my brains were fried.

            "You little freak," he spat. It was the coati guard. I hadn't noticed before, but now I could tell; he was a human-hater; I saw it in his eyes. He shoved the taser into my groin. I kicked him, but he flipped the button and I screamed so high it could've shattered windows.

            I heard the other guards. The electric rod was turned off...the human-hater looked innocent. I was shaking bad, and my stomach was clenched up tight like a fist.

            "What's wrong with 'im?"

            "Aw, just a few zaps, s'all."

            I puked.

            My hazy eyes stared at the ceiling. God...I really needed that booze now. I'm not an alcoholic. I just need a painkiller...a problem-clouder.

            My mama always cooked this nasty treat for herself. Sauerkraut and keibasa, which is a kind of sausage. She'd buy precooked sausage and a bag of sauerkraut and throw them into a pot. She'd put it on simmer and the smell would waft through the whole house.

            I didn't like the smell at all. Normally, it would make me wrinkle my nose and complain about the 'raw sewage' on the stove. Mama found out about my early start on drinking on one of her 'treat' days.

            I came home and I'm not a loud drunk. I'm quiet. I don't get violent...I actually get much more calm than usual. My high-strung nerves loosen up a bit and I relax.

            "Cookin' my treat!" My mama greeted me, holding a spoonful of the crap out to me. I took one whiff and puked all over the floor.

            "Are you sick?" she cried. "Oh...it's the flu, isn't it? I heard it's going around, it's..." then she must've...smelled my breath or clothes or something. I was loaded that day.

            "You were drinking?! How could you? You're gonna end up like your father. Just like him."

            Even through my drunken haze, I was hurt by the despair in her eyes.

            "No," I moaned. "No, I'm not like him!"

            "Cueball, knock it off. I'm tryin' to sleep."

            I sat up. It was dark and I could barely make out Drago's form in the other cell. Dammit. My fucking nuts hurt. They were scrunched close to my body, still terrified of more pain. I had a stomachache on top of it, and my tongue was a dried sponge, stuck to the roof of my mouth.

            "Damn guards. I'll kill you all," I hissed, more to let off steam than actual threats. Oh sure...I have killed before. But never with my bare hands. I'm just not strong enough, even with my metal hand.

            I'd always killed with some other method; guns or experiments gone awry or something like that.

            I'm not a sadist. I swear. But there's something about killing somebody that...it's powerful. It's potent...like strong strong liquor. When they die, when that last gasp whistles through your ears...it's like their dying energy brushes every one of your nerves. Like a feather drawn over your skin...your skin shies and shivers, but it's a good shiver. There's a power there.

            It made my blood quicken just thinking of it. Oh...to kill that taser-wielding guard. My hands clenched on the bars.

            "I will kill you," I whispered. "I will. I promise you that."

            "Shut up, cueball!" growled Drago.

            The next day there was a surprise for Drago; he had a visitor! Now who would visit that moron is beyond me. He couldn't possibly have any friends.

            I was bored...so bored I was actually contemplating asking Drago for a dirty magazine. It was something to look at, at least...

            Then Smiley came bounding down the hall, his flat tail slapping against the floor.

            "Hey Drago, somebody's here to see yaaaaaa!"

            "Huh? Who?" Drago jumped up.

            We both peered down the hallway and lo and behold, this beanpole woman comes slinking down the corridor. She wore a pleasant blue flower-print dress and had cute perky little breasts. She was a white wolf like Drago, with a narrowish face, and slightly bugged-out eyes. Cute in a homely sort of way. Like me, I guess.

            "Drago, mah sweet wittle baby-poop, how's my big boy doin'?" She strode up to Drago's cell, reached through and pinched his cheek.

            "Hey ma," he said. "Doin' all right."

            She thrust a white paper bag through the bars. "Brought ya some stuff, my poopskie. Don'tcha worry, them guards checked it."

            "'Ey, thanks ma," said Drago, accepting the bag. "Thanks a bundle."

            "Baby-poop," I snickered.

            Drago looked over. "'Ey, don'tcha be dissin' my ma."

            "I wasn't."

            Beanpole looked over also. "Ah, who's yer wittle friend?"

            "Ain't my friend, the little faggot."

            She moved in front of my cell to see me more clearly. "My oh my, an Overlander! Don't like yer kind much, but I gotta say, I was against that squirrelly ole Acorn king myself. Doggone moron, that feller."

            I remained leaning against the wall.

            "Like mah dress, hon?" she asked Drago.

            "Yep, yer dress looks good, ma. Ya always look good."

            "If you like bug eyes," I said.

            "What?" She looked over at me.

            "Nothing." I gave her my most irritating grin.

            I was leaning pretty close to the bars, and I stupidly stayed there while Drago moved over near me. I didn't have time to react when he grabbed me through the bars.

            "Uhhhh! Let go!"

            "I heard what ya said, ya little ass-fucker. If ya diss my ma one more time, I'll seriously hurt you. Understand?"

            I had no choice but to weakly choke out a response of understanding. He let me go and I quickly moved out of his reach.

            "Drago, honey, check out what Ah brought ya!"

            "Right-o, ma." Drago opened the bag, and drew out the first item. A package of cookies.        

            "Homemade," said Ma.

            "'Ey thanks. Ya know how I love these!" Drago grinned wide enough to expose all his teeth. He drew out the second item, a bundle of magazines. "Any nudies in here?"

            "Of course, baby. I collected 'em all up fer a few months before Ah came 'ere. Knew ya liked them dirty poses and whatnot." She looked over at me. "Maybe ya can share 'em with yer wittle friend."

            "Cueball is horny enough, ma. He begs me to screw him every night. 'Course I ain't touching that faggot with a ten-foot pole."

            She looked at me more shrewdly, while I sputtered indignantly. "Drago, you lie." I pointed a finger at the package of cigarettes on Drago's nighttable. "Why don't you tell her how you got those? They don't give out cigarettes for free." I smirked. "Drago did some 'bonus work' to get those smokes, if you get what I mean."

            "YA LITTLE PRICK!!" Drago lunged at the bars separating his cell from mine. His muscular arm reached through, trying to grab me, but I was too far away.

            "He had to do a different sort of 'smoking' on Guard Marshe first before he got them."

             I heard Flying Frog start belching laughter from his cell.

            "I'm gonna rip yer fuckin' dick off and shove it down yer throat," threatened Drago. "Then ya can finally give yerself a blow, I've seen ya tryin' to do it before."

            Flying Frog cackled.

            "What's with your ma? She talks to you like you're her lover or something. That's it, isn't it?" I widened my eyes in mock-disbelief. "You and your ma are closer than you let on, huh?"

            "WHAT?!" Drago and his ma both shrieked. Drago once again tried to get me through the bars, but I just smirked. I even taunted him a little by darting within reach only to jump back.

            "What's 'e sayin', honey-poo? Sayin' we's...we...do the thing together?"

            "'Ey ma, he's sayin' shit, and when I getta holda ya, dicksnot, I'm gonna rip off yer..."

            "My dick and shove it...blah blah..."

            "Yer nose and shove it up yer ass."

            "That sounds painful," said F. Frog.

            "Yer sayin' I do my son?" screeched Ma, her eyes bulging out even more. She reached through the bars of my cell, her hands clawing. "I LOVE MY SON, BUT NOT LIKE THAT. YA PERVERTED WITTLE BITCH!!!" She suddenly drew something from her purse, but I didn't have time to see what it was. All I knew was she'd sprayed me with something...

            "AHHHHHHH! OH MY GODDDDDDDDDD!!!"  I wailed, falling to my knees. The bitch! It was pepper spray! My eyes were tearing up; I could feel the water on my cheeks. I rubbed at them, whining miserably.

            Drago and Flying Frog were both cracking up.

            I blinked, my vision blurred. "GUARDS!!!" I screamed. "GUARDS!" I rubbed at my eyes harder but it didn't seem to do any good. The awful burning was now on my hands and I waved them around. The air rushing against them just seemed to irritate them more.

            Through the tears, I saw Smiley come trotting down the hallway. "What's going on? What is it?"

            "She sprayed me with pepper spray," I whined. "Get her out of here!"

            "E's insultin' me," said Ma. "Butted in my talkin' and insults me and mah boy. The little prick's jest plain mean, I say. 'E deserved a wittle pepper in the eyes fer that."

            "Yep, Snively's a troublemaker," said Smiley.

            I glared. No one's ever on my side. Ever.

            The other guard sauntered up...that coati taser-wielding one. "Overlander causin' trouble?"

            "Yep."

            The guard's eyes locked with my watering ones, and he grinned. His fingers stroked the taser lovingly. "Zap," he whispered.

            "Fuck you," I spat. Literally. I leaned in and got a big hunk of spit right on his face. He screamed like it was acid.

            Smiley shook his head. "Come along, ma'am. Vistin' times over, anyhoo."

            "Goodbye, sweetums," she said to Drago, before Smiley escorted her away.

            Taser-Guard waited, leaning against the wall. His eyes stabbed daggers into me, even when I turned away.

            I picked up the plastic water cup near my bed and tilted my head back. The lukewarm water felt good as I poured it into my eyes. I blinked and shook the water from my eyes. The spray must've been mild. It was wearing off, and I felt much better. I used the rest of the water in the glass to rinse off my itching hands.

            Smiley came back, and I heard the whine of a small hovercraft's engines start up outside. Drago's ma leaving, I guess.

            "Gimme those keys, Smiley...I've got business with number 212."

            "Eh...can't do that, Tattle. Ya can't be zapping the prisoners just cause they mouth off a little. Specially that one. Ya know he's bad tempered."

            "Gimme the damn keys! No one cares about these low lifes anyway."

            I heard the jingle of keys. Then the squeak as my cell was opened. I whirled around. Tattle...guess that's his name, was standing there, holding the taser. I snarled, but my body was shaking. Tattle was bigger than me...just like everyone else. DAMN! Why did I get stuck in this skinny little body?!

            I backed away. Tattle came closer. "I'm gonna fry your ass, Snide-ly," he giggled. Actually giggled. When anyone laughs like that...you know they're insane. It's a proven fact. Written down somewhere, I'm sure.

            "Get away," I said, and I knew my desperation was showing through my voice. But that taser hurt. My poor balls were witness to that.

            He giggled again. There had to be something...AH! I grabbed the night table and hurled it at him. He tried to bat it away, but one of the legs bashed him right in the nose. I caught a glimpse of blood trickling from his nostrils before he rushed me. I twisted my slight body out of the way, and he crashed into the metal wall. Then I took off.

            Second time in one week I was free. I ran down the hallway, feeling very deja-vuish, but of course, I have been here before. Just yesterday!

            I went down the steps, leapt down the last ones and charged towards the double doors again. I head Tattle pounding down the steps. He was going to be close...very soon!

            I reached the doors. Guards were coming in on all sides. I felt like a deer about to fall prey to wolves. Not a bad analogy actually. DAMN! I should've known. The doors were locked!

            I whirled around. The guards were too close to run now. Still, I charged them, going for the smallest one. The full-force of my shoulder slammed him in the chest. He spun away, went down. I utilized my tiny body now; ducking, dodging, and squirming away from the guards.

            I veered out of the area, going down another hallway. Holy Mobius! A window. Opened and beckoning. How lucky can you get?

            I scrambled out it. I was outside now, standing on flat red-gray rock.     There was an edge. I ran to it and looked down. And nearly pissed my pants.

            HOLY SHITTT!!! It was at least a thousand feet down. I was unconscious when they brought me to the jail...I've never seen the outside. Didn't know it was up on a cliff like this.

            "FUCK!" I screamed.

            I looked around wildly and saw them. Hovercraft. A few of them, all parked neatly side by side. Hallelujah! A sight to make me almost believe in salvation.

            I dashed towards them. Guards burst out of the building.

            NO! I'M ALMOST THERE!!! I put on more speed...they put on more speed.

            I was tackled from behind. My chin hit the rock hard; I bit my tongue. Bright flashes of white assaulted my vision, and I tried to squirm away. But the guard held onto me tight. Hands grabbed me by the scruff roughly and I was dragged back inside.

            "Snively! Wake up!" Somebody smacked my cheek.

            "Where am I? UH!" I was tied up to something. My wrists! They were bound above my head.

            I opened my eyes. I was in...the shower room? Tied up to the wall by my wrists. My uniform was unzipped part-way. Tattle stood before me...I gulped loudly.

            He was holding a bullwhip in one hand.

            And I was completely at his mercy.

            "Oh nooo," I whimpered.

            "Oh yes."

            He giggled.

            Some black hole opened before me and I fell into it. Fell headlong into a deep dark memory...

What was it? What terrible atrocity had I committed? Oh yes. I'd forgotten to do the dishes. I went to a movie, because I had a little extra spending money. It was a stupid movie.

            I came home, and pops was sitting at the kitchen table. I mumbled hello at him, and headed towards my room.

            His voice stopped me.

            "You didn't do the dishes."

            I turned around. "Huh?"

            "You left for your own damn little entertainment, and you didn't do the fucking dishes?! Your ma did 'em. You know how bad she felt today. She stayed home from work. And then you have the nerve to leave your chores for her?!"

            I gulped. "I forgot about them. I honestly forgot. I would've done them..."

            "YOU LITTLE LIAR!!" He stood up, and I could smell his breath from where I stood. Vodka perhaps? Or just cheap whiskey? It didn't make a difference...it was alcohol and alcohol made my father even more vicious than usual.

            Oh yes… I've learned how to beg long before I lived with Robotnik. Robotnik wasn't the first to abuse me. My whole life's been one big bruise after another.

            I begged then. I pleaded with him to forgive me for my forgetfulness. That's all it had been. But he saw it as a malicious act towards my mother. That's real funny. I might be a dickweed to the Mobians...but my mother? No. I loved her. I loved her so much it hurt.

            "You stay there," he said. He stalked from the room. He returned, with a whip. His father used to raise horses or something. My pops had all that old horse stuff. Including all the crops and whips.

            You don't really whip a horse with the whips. Just touch them with it gently. But the whips are capable of breaking open the skin, if you hit hard enough.

            My pops had big arms, bulging with muscle that was turning slightly soft from his days of sitting around. But he could still hit plenty hard.

            "Take off your shirt," he said.

            "No, please..."

            "Do it."

            I shrugged out of my white tee. It was chilly, and I shivered. My gym teacher saw me in the locker room, and thought I looked malnutritioned. I told him that I was just skinny... But I'll give the teacher credit...I did look semi-starved. My ribs and the ridge of my spine stuck out. I didn't have an ounce of fat on my body, and little muscle. It's not that I didn't eat. My metabolism was just off the charts, I guess.

            "Stand against the wall," said pops. I obeyed, planting my hands against it. I screwed my eyes shut.

            "Say you're sorry for being lazy."

            "I'm sorry for being lazy," I whined.

            "Say 'I deserve punishment'."

            "I...I...I deserve punishment," the words stuck in my throat like popcorn kernels.

            "Say 'punish me'."

            I whimpered.

            "SAY IT!"

            "P...P...P..." I had to clear my throat. "Punish me," I whispered.

            The whip cracked down.

            "AH!" I jerked out of the memory. Tattle was staring at me. "Think you can just black out and not get punished, eh? Well, now that you're awake again, let's begin."

            "I'm sorry I spit on you," I said.

            "Really?"

            "Yes."

            "Too late for sorries now, little buddy." He raised the whip.

            I switched tactics. "Do it. Do it! Do it now..."

            "What?" He looked startled.

            "HIT ME!"

            He looked perplexed. One finger scratched at his head. "You actually want to be hit?"

            I squirmed around. "Yes...I love it. Packbell...you know him right?"

            "Yeah, that sick android."

            "Yes, he used to whip me just like this..." I rolled my eyes upwards in an expression of rapture. "It felt sooo good. It even made me co-"

            "SHUT UP!" he said.

            "No, you shut up and hit me!!" I howled, like I couldn't stand the wait. He looked disgusted.

            "You're a sick puppy, Snively."

            He reached up, and I thought he was going to undo my bonds. But he stepped back, looking at me shrewdly. Then he flipped the whip back over his shoulder. He swung it forward and let me have it.

            "AHHH!" I squealed and wiggled around from the pain of it. It left a red stripe across my chest. Then I remembered my tactic. "Ahhh...God!" I cried out in as lustful a voice I could, and I squirmed like I was in ecstasy.

            "You're sick," he said again, and he looked thoroughly disgusted. This time he did untie me and dragged me back to my cell. After he left, a snickering Drago turned to me. "Did ya get yer ass whooped?"

            "Yes. And it hurt so good." I rubbed my chest and zipped my uniform back up.

            "Huh?"

            "No, I didn't."

            "What?" Drago looked angry. "Well, ya watch it, punk, cause when I get ya I'm gonna cream ya."

            I yawned. "Don't make promises you can't keep, Drago." I pulled the blanket over my head and tried to go to sleep.

            Marshe came by, along with Tattle. They looked at me through the bars for a moment. I felt the weight of their stares and peeked out from under the blanket.

            "Everyone agreed...can't have stuff like that go unpunished..."

            "Made the other prisoners wound up, little bastard..."

            They opened my cell door. I was grabbed up, rather roughly. They dragged me down the hallway.

            "Where are we going?" I asked.

            They didn't answer.

            I had a feeling this was not good.

Chapter 5: Solitude...

I'm all locked up in this dark place

And I do not know I'm as good as dead

My head aches---Warped and tied up

I need to kill this pain

---Dave Matthews Band "Rhyme and Reason"

            Oh God...

            I always heard 'silence is golden'. This silence was not. People would pay to be rid of this maddening silence. But I had no way out. The doors were thick and heavy, and the locks unyielding. No windows meant no sun, which led to an unusual depression on my part. I hardly ever got sun in Robotropolis, why should it bother me here?

            It was three weeks from when I had been dragged from my cell. How could a short time period drag out so long? It felt like years, long silent years...

            I never knew solitary confinement was so bad.

            It doesn't sound like it would be hard. I never had good companions anyway. Robotnik, how can I even consider him a companion? He was a slave-driver, the keeper of pain...not a friend. But still, it was interaction, conversation with somebody.

            The padded walls, the metal door, the toilet in the corner...they were hated in my eyes. I couldn't stand to look at them anymore. But I had to. There was nothing else.

            Sounds silly, but I was thinking death would be better than staring at these walls a second longer.

            I could feel myself coming apart... But this wasn't the first time I'd felt like this.

            I suppose I unraveled over the course of my life in the city. Mentally, I mean. Every day a tiny thread of my sanity would come loose. On bad days it would split and come undone, leaving all sorts of frayed ends. I could've killed myself some of those days...   

I've contemplated suicide an astonishing number of times; the number must be nearing the thousands. But really, I think I coped well. Anyone else in my shoes would've flung themselves off Robotropolis's highest tower. I've thought of that before. I don't think it would hurt. I heard you faint on the way down. -Bam- When you hit, you're already out cold. And then you're out forever.

            But I never did. Why? Because I have this strange fear of death. A cruel fear, considering how terrible this life is...

            Robotnik...he could never understand my depression. I got depressed rarely, maybe three times a year. When I got depressed I sunk so low, even my mother couldn't touch me.

            Robotnik hated it when I was in one of my deep slides. He'd growl at me, and slap me, but I wouldn't even bat one wispy eyelash at him. I could hardly lift my head, and my cheeks felt all stiff from dried tears. I just stared silently at my surroundings, my mind curling into a tight little ball inside me.

            I would run my fingers along the laser pistol in my belt, trying to get up enough courage to take it out, put it against my head and just do it. But I never could. As hard as I tried to convince myself that I needed out, I couldn't take it, I didn't deserve this world...I just couldn't. Why?  Why couldn't I? I'd get so angry, and my bitter tears would splash the floor. I'd hurt myself instead, punching the wall, taking the razor I didn't even use to shave...and slicing little nicks in my elbow against the bone, or in the soft pad of my hand. Sometimes I'd smear my hands against the wall and just stare at the red slash that didn't do my inner pain justice. None of my outer pain could even compare to the turmoil within... Then I'd let the blood dry, and it looked pretty awful.

            But after awhile, I'd wash it off, because I didn't want Robotnik to see the evidence of my madness...I'd wash it away, and the cuts would be just a little bit red, hardly noticeable.

            Those crazy things...to look at me you wouldn't think I was capable of those things. But there was a door only depression could unlock, and what lay behind it was strange urges to destroy myself to escape, or at least hurt my body in hopes of driving the inner pain away.

            But I had no means of cutting now. I don't know if I wanted to. It sounded sick when I thought of it. But when I had that blade in my hand, I knew the power of the cut... It made me feel better. I could focus on that stinging and let my inner turmoil fade away...

            I felt tired suddenly. Good. Sleep is an escape.

            Robotnik was dead! Dead, finally. Robotropolis was mine, and rightfully so. This was a dream, though, wasn't it? But it had been reality for a while...

            Bah, dream or not, the city was mine. Even when Robotnik was alive, I'd practically ran the place myself. I had no worries without him. I wouldn't have any trouble dealing with those rebel brats.

            I love revenge, for sure, but Robotnik always thought revenge had to be elaborate. So he'd capture the hedgehog or princess or whoever, and stage some big trap (like that stupid pinball game) in hopes of humiliating the captive and then killing them. But it never worked! One thing you cannot give those Freedom Fighters is time. With time, they can break any bond, escape any trap...

            And they did.

            For months, the city was mine. The Freedom Fighters tried in vain to trash my factories. They underestimated me.

            The surveillance monitors showed blood one foggy morning. One of their group was down. It was the sweet rabbit. My improved robots had ripped her metallic limbs off her body. I watched her struggle to escape, feeling almost sorry for her. She pulled herself forward with her flesh arm, continuing even as the 'bots powered up their weapons.

            The princess, hedgehog, and French fox arrived on the scene. But they were too late. I saw their mouths fly open in horror; even I winced as the powerful blast blew her head to scattered pieces.

            "NOOOOOO!" The princess screamed.

            I saw the fury in the hedgehog's eyes. He rushed the robots, but not before they got another shot in.

            The French fox let out a short yelp, his hands flailing at his chest. I nearly covered my eyes, stomach clenching. His entire chest was blown open...I even saw his heart pulsing for one instant before he collapsed.

            I turned off the monitor. I knew Sonic would be going berserk, trashing everything in sight.

            Suddenly, everything shifted. Bright lights... I was dizzy... Then I felt grit beneath me.

            Shit. I was outside! I heard the squeal of metal being cut apart. My breath whistled in that familiar frantic way. That sound meant the hedgehog was near.

            I heard footsteps behind me and turned. The princess stood there, but just for a second. Then she barreled towards me. I turned to run...NO! My feet, they were stuck!

            She tackled me and I hit the ground, crying like a baby. There was a loud -crack- and I knew my arm was broken; I landed on it wrong.

            She kicked me hard.

            Sonic came around the corner. "Well, well, if it ain't Needlenose." He kicked me too and I screamed in pain.

            He laughed.

            "Don't...don't hurt me..."

            "We won't." Another kick. "We'll just kill ya."

            This...this isn't like them. They aren't supposed to be mean.

            Sonic nudged me with his foot, rolling me onto my back. His foot came to rest on my stomach in a classic victory pose.

            Sally was holding a sword. I guess she took it from the French fox.

            "Hold him down, Sonic." She raised the sword.

            I struggled, but the hedgehog suddenly weighed a ton.

            The sword came down.

            There was incredible pain, all through me...like stars or lightning...dazzling with its intensity. I heard screaming from far off, it sounded like me...

            There was a smell like copper, no, blood...

            God, I'm dying...

            Blackness swept over me.

            "Wake up..." I jerked awake, but could not move. The hedgehog and squirrel's face leered down at me.

            I tried to move again, but couldn't. My whole body hurt, but I couldn't feel my right arm, or my two legs...

            "Have a look at yourself," said Sally. She held a mirror up high so I could see my body.

            I was like Bunnie at her last moments. How brutally those robots had ripped off her arm and her legs...

            "WHAT DID YOU DO TO ME?!"

            "What you did to Bunnie. And now we're gonna take the rest of you apart, piece by piece."

            "You...you can't be serious!"

            "Oh, but I am." She drew out a knife. "What first, Sonic? His nose, eyes, ears, heart? I know. Let's have ourselves a little weenie roast first." Her smile was sadistic as she turned away from me. I heard a weird -foom- noise and then she turned back with a blowtorch in hand.

            "A weenie roast? Sounds fun. And tasty." Sonic laughed nastily.

            She moved the torch towards my belly, but lower...

            "NOOOOOO!" I rolled over and hit something soft. I opened my eyes and saw padding. Padded walls. I still had my arms, my legs. Still had everything.

            I blew out a ragged breath and wiped the sweat from my brow. My ears caught a tapping noise. I looked up to see Marshe peering through the tiny window in the door.

            "Bad dreams?" he asked. I could barely hear him through the thick glass.

            "Let me out," I said.

            "Eat me." He closed his eyes and licked the glass. I scowled at the wet trail his tongue left.

            "Give me a little spit-shine and I'll let you out." He winked.

            The padded walls, the toilet, him... I felt my temper flee.

            "Let me out! Let me out, YOU BASTARD!"

            I kicked the door as hard as I could. It sent shock waves up my leg. "OPEN THIS DOOR, YOU PRICK! I'LL KILL YOU!"

            The door suddenly opened.

            "You wanna fight somebody? Try me."

            I punched him. It hurt my hand, but not him, because he just laughed.

            He punched me back. My head snapped to the side. I tried to dodge around him, but he punched again, low to my belly. He threw me to the floor and pounded my ribs.

            He dragged me up again. I struggled fiercely, but it was a joke. He drove the air from me with a bear hug and then kicked me in the nuts.

            I hit the padded floor again, gasping. "Stop...stop!"

            "Oh poor baby, oh he's crying, let me wipe away those tears." He laughed and poked me in the eye.

            "You prick!" I slapped at him, my unkempt nails scratching him.

            He seemed astonished, touching his cheek and staring at the blood on his fingers. "You little animal!" he chuckled.

            Then he beat the shit out of me.

            He finally left. I curled up on the floor, eyes closed. "Uh...oh God," I whimpered to myself, but didn't move. It hurt to move. Hurt enough to make me scream.

            It even hurt to breathe. That bastard, he'd probably broken some of my ribs. He wasn't like Robotnik. Robotnik never broke me deliberately; he needed me to work. He wanted me hurt, but not crippled. But like his rage, he could never control his strength.

            I shifted a little. The pain hit like a hammer, making me gasp as I almost passed out. Passing out was so strange. Like falling into a different world. A better world, perhaps...

            In a way, this pain isn't so bad. God, it hurts, it hurts badly...but like those crazy cuts, it dulled my thoughts, any inner turmoil. The walls and the toilet didn't seem so maddening now. They weren't the only things to focus on now.

            Over the next half-hour, I managed to sit up. My prison grays were torn on the arms and on one leg. The collar was ripped too.

            That dumb asshole. I gritted my teeth. He'll be the first one to kill when I take over Robotropolis.

            I looked at my skin through the rips. On my left arm, I saw a faint scar. Ah yes, a surgery scar. I had plenty of those. The Medibots were always patching me up after Robotnik wrecked me. I remember how I got this one. It had been a compound fracture; bone broken and jutting out of my skin, blood everywhere...

            I unzipped my uniform to see my belly. Some were more visible, others just traces. But I knew they were there. I had scars all over my belly; I must've been cut open more than fifty times.

            Robotnik, he never seemed to understand the damage he did with just one punch to my stomach. He ruptured things, smashed things. I'm surprised any of my internal organs still work.

            The Medibots never made mistakes with the 'repairs', but they often didn't keep me knocked out long enough.

            I remember a time when that happened...

            The light...it was so bright, seared my eyes. They felt almost cooked. And the air, instead of just blowing over my skin, it felt like an invader ripping through me.

            I finally could stand to open my eyes. I saw the Medibots with their busy hands, saw them holding scalpels covered in blood. Then I saw my body, all opened up. I couldn't make out parts, just red slimey tissue, like packaged meat...

            I screamed. And screamed.

            The Medibots scurried frantically. I thrashed just as frantically. Out of the corner of my eyes, I saw Robotnik standing near the door.

            "Help...help me..." I gasped.

            A plastic mask was clamped over my face.

            "Relax. Breathe in," The Medibots droned.

            I listened to them. All was well. I fell unconscious again and awoke to find a new, neat scar on my belly.

            Robotnik was sitting in a chair, his bulk overflowing from it. "You're fine," he said. Not quite a question, but I answered anyway.

            "I guess, now..." What else could I say? He wouldn't want to hear me whine and complain. I felt sore and tired.

            "I didn't mean to...do this," he muttered, so low I barely heard it.

            "What?"

            He stood up, almost too fast. "If you're fine, then get back to work," he snapped at me.

            I pulled myself out of the memory. He did not apologize. I was delirious then, all drugged out from the operation. He never apologized. I imagined it.

            The bastard never gave a damn. I'm not perfect. I don't think I'd want me in my family if I were someone else. But still, I was his blood. We were related, tied by the same woman. The glorious Fala, his sister, my mother. He might not have liked me, but in honor of his sister, he could've treated me better.

            The same with the piece of shit I had to call father. He claimed to have loved my mama, indeed, he did, but how come he never loved me... I was a part of her, a part of him even...

            He made me this way. He made me pathetic. And my mama, she betrayed me with her weakness. She was too weak to stop him when he came after me. Too weak to live when I needed her most.

            She tried, but she failed. They both failed, both of my parents. My siblings, they were all damn idiots too, but they weren't screwed like me. Oh no, pops -liked- them.

            I stopped suddenly and just threw myself at the wall. The pain hit me hard and I whimpered. A rib had to be broken. My body was bruised and my nose clogged with blood and now all I could feel was the pain again.

            How it hurt...but how it soothed. Smoothed away those memories, smoothed away the world into a flat dimension with room for only one focal point.

            I'm not a...I can't be a masochist... I just can't. I don't like to hurt. But sometimes pain can dull pain; outer pain dulls inner pain. And vice versa. But inner pain is so much worse.

            It would've been better if I had been a masochist. Life with Robotnik and Packbell would've been sheer heaven!

            Sometimes, though, I had almost a...need to be hit. It wasn't that I liked the pain, but...

            It scared me in a way, because feeling that was not normal, I knew. But sometimes, when I was cowering away from a fuming Robotnik, and he was about to really let me have it, sometimes I felt like...like I wanted him to hit me. Sometimes I almost felt disappointed if he didn't.

            It was almost arousing in a way, because all this tension would build up. Is he going to hit me...or not? The tension would stretch tight like a rubberband...with the shadow of his fist on me, and me shaking and trembling.

            When he finally did hit me, I swear, sometimes it would actually feel...not good, but satisfying. Like a parent with a missing child, when they finally find out what's happened, even if it's death, they are somehow satisfied. It was a satisfaction like that.

            Hell, what am I getting at? That I don't like pain, but I'm satisfied when I get hurt, because that's what I'm used to? It's my security. It's what I lived with all my life, and I don't like it, but it's almost what keeps me sane.

            I felt a tear slide down my face and then heard a tapping on the door.

Smiley was looking through and he frowned at me. I heard the clink of his keys in the lock, and the door opened.

            In one hand he held a bowl of goop.

            "What happened to ya?" he asked.

            I didn't answer him, just curled up again.

            "What's ya problem? Here's ya food." He nudged me with his foot. "Solitary getting to ya, huh?"

            "Leave me alone."

            "What happened to ya clothes?"

            "It was Marshe," I mumbled.

            "Did ya say Marshe?"

            "Yes, now leave me alone."

            "Fine." He set the bowl in the opposite corner and left.

            I didn't touch it for a while. But finally, I got hungry. It was cold by then, and tasted horrible.

            I was eating it when I heard loud voices. I recognized the bawdy growl of Marshe, and the other sounded like Smiley. I could've been mistaken; the door was thick and sound not easily heard. They must've been talking very loud, maybe even shouting. At any rate, it was not a pleasant conversation.

            "Ya can't keep doing that, Marshe! Treating him like that."

            "Act like you like the creep. What's your deal?!"

            "I don't, but..."

            "He's a frickin' traitor, plus an Overlander...those bastards are the reason your mother died, Smiley! 'Sides, you know he's gonna get death anyway, so who cares what happens to him?"

            "The princess strictly forbade abuse of the prisoners, that's what she said. Mark my words, ya keep messin' with him, and ya're gonna get in trouble!"

            "She ain't here. Whatcha gonna do, rat me out? Some friend."

            "Shut up, ya damn fool. You know I'm on ya side. That's why I'm tellin' ya to stop. I won't rat ya out, but he will, soon as he sees the princess."

            "Who she gonna believe, that little prick, or me? Me, course."

            "Whatever. Just tone it down a little, ok?"

            I saw Smiley's face peer into my window. "Quit smirking in there. This is ya last day in there, but ya try any shit again and ya right back in there."

            I breathed a sigh of relief.

Chapter 6: Back to 'good'

One touch, one look, that is all it takes

These things forever change us

---Seal "State of Grace"

            "Hey, there he is!"

"Welcome back, cueball!"

"The little fucknut is still alive, eh?"

            "Can it," I said as Smiley attached my cuffs to the ring on the cafeteria table. I sat down and eyed the goop with some distaste. Although I was used to it, it was getting boring.

            "Didn't know you were such a badass," said Ernie. "Getting into solitary. None of us ever went there."

            I didn't say anything.

            "So quiet? Usually you never shut up." Ernie laughed at his weak sarcasm.

            I concentrated on the goop.

            Tattle leaned over our table and shook his finger at me. "I hope you learned your lesson, Overlander. Don't screw with me."

            Ernie waited till he was gone before he spoke again. "Maybe we could bust outta here. Then I can see my honey again."

            "Yer honey?" asked Drago.

            "Eh, I'll call her anything just to get into her pants."

            Drago laughed and slapped Ernie on the back.

            "You don't really love her?" I asked.

            "Who cares if ya love her or not? As long as ya screw her," Drago spun his empty bowl around on the table.

            "So...you think lying to get sex is right?"

            "Course. Long as ya get between them legs." Drago laughed again.

            I frowned, feeling the skin between my eyebrows crinkle up. He gave me a sidelong glance, his pupils dilated like a cat's. "What, cueball? Ya got a problem with that? Mr. Morality over here gots a problem with it."

            "Little wussy pussy," snorted Sleuth. "No wonder he ain't ever got pussy. Not with them shining standards of his."

             "No...he ain't never got pussy because he likes the rump roast better! Ha ha!" Drago pounded on the table, making all our bowls bounce. I glared at him.

            "I happen to prefer women, Drago."

            "Suuuuurrre!" 

            "C'mon, Sniv', come clean. You can tell us!" Ernie chuckled.

            I debated whether or not to throw my bowl at him, but decided not to. I didn't want to get into any more trouble.

            They had their fill of teasing me for the day, and moved on to converse other things, mostly the events in Ernie's newest porn book. I ignored them and drifted off into other thoughts.

            Most of my early sex experiences (well, sex-related, not sex itself) were pretty odd. Probably because most of them came from Devon, my cousin. At the time we didn't think of it as sick. We were just dumb kids, but it never went further then touching.

            She was a nutcase, that girl. She liked me. How stupid. With her beauty, she could've gotten many of the boys in school. The good-looking boys, the jocks, the popular crowed. But no. She wanted me. What a damn fool. 

            She was my first kiss, the first breast I ever touched, the first girl to ever touch me...

            I shook my head suddenly. God, how fucking gross that is. I felt my cheeks get hot, and hoped the crew wouldn't see. But they were too busy talking.

            But even if she was my cousin, I had an attraction for her then...

            I can't deny it.

            I hate to admit it.

            But I still have an attraction for her now.

            Marshe and Smiley came around and brought us back to our cells. I thought I'd be able to read my books and get my mind off her, but she stuck in my mind like a stubborn stain on a favorite shirt.

            There was a day that clinched my attraction for her. At the time, I didn't realize it, but now when I remember it, all I can think of is how her fingers felt on me, and how beautiful her face looked. I can't believe it, of all cards fate has thrown at me, one had to read 'thou shall fall for your cousin...'

            It was just that typical thing that kids do sometimes. Play touchie-feelie. 'You take a peek, I take a peek' sort of thing. It was mostly curiosity, not sexuality, but thinking about it now is almost always arousing...

            We were alone in the house that day. It was a weekend, in the springtime, I think. Yes, because the birds were chirping and all the windows were opened to get rid of the stale winter air trapped inside.

            Beau and Fala, my parents, along with DaSilva (my other cousin who lived with us), and my two brothers were all out shopping. My older sister was at her acting class.

            I was cleaning my room, which Beau had screamed at me about that morning. I limped over to a book on the floor and picked it up; the same book Beau had hurled at me.

            I sat down on the bed with the book, and bent down to rub my sore leg. The book flipped open, and when I looked at it, I saw it was on one of my favorite parts. I started to read, and became engrossed in it; remembering the storyline, and the characters, and all the wonderful dialogue and fight scenes...

            I was so entranced that I barely heard the squeak of my door opening. But I looked up at the sound of a throat being delicately cleared.

            Devon was standing there, smiling. Her body was wrapped up in a white towel, and her hair was wet and dripping all over my floor. The light from my window was streaming in, making her wet skin shine. I didn't see her without her makeup very often, and her face had a clean, fresh look that was appealing.

            I looked down at the pool of water she was creating, at the same time noticing her legs, the firm muscle of her athletic frame, the softness of the skin, not much darker than the towel. Normally, I found paler skin like my own, sickly looking. But not hers. She was like a china doll, delicate and pretty. Except I knew she was not delicate.

            "Hey, the shower's yours. Unless you want company; I wouldn't mind taking another one."

            "No."

            "We're alone, you know," she said, smiling in a strange fashion.

            "Yes, so what?" I looked back down at my book.

            "Look." I heard her say, so I looked.

            She lowered the towel for a moment. I dropped the book. Her breasts were shining in the sunlight.

            "You like them?"

            My 'thing' (as we called it at our age) perked up. Like those hovercraft...zero to two hundred in seconds.

            Devon saw it.

            "What's wrong with your pants?" she asked. It made me look down. A small denim mountain had grown from my jeans.

            "Nothing," I said. "You know how jeans stick out in the front."

            She didn't buy it. She knew the sticking-out of my jeans wasn't from bunched-up denim, but from something underneath.

            "You've got a...a boner," she said, and giggled. "I'll let you touch these," she indicated her newborn breasts. "If you let me touch your thing."

            I looked at her breasts more closely. There was a pink nipple, and underneath that a slight swelling, that would be the underside of her future generous breasts. But...even though her breasts...or the beginning of her breasts...were sweet and beautiful, I didn't think it was a fair trade.

            "I want to see your thing then, too," I said.

            "Ok." She agreed willingly, then closed the door. Nobody was home, but still...

            "You first," she demanded, and I gave in. I unzipped my pants and faltered. My hands stopped and I felt a furious blush hit my cheeks. Even with the temptation of seeing Devon's thing, I was too afraid. She would laugh at me...laugh at my thing because it...it wasn't very big.

            Then she stepped forward and took over. She shoved my hands aside and yanked down my briefs so viciously I fell back onto the bed.

            "Wow," Devon said, staring down at my thing. She crouched down before me, and I felt her warm breath wash over my lap. Then she reached out her hand, so bold, and grabbed my thing.

            "It's so smooth," she said. "And nice...I like it." She held it in her hands, staring down at it.

            "It's purty," she crooned, stroking it like it was a dog or something.

            "And these are your nuts?" she asked, grabbing something else. I howled.

            "OWWWW! Not so hard, Devon!"

            "Sorry. Didn't know they were so sensitive...I thought the...the thing was. I mean, when you kick a guy in the crotch, it's the thing that hurts."

            "No...it's the...the..." I was starting to stutter, one of my nervous habits.

            "Well, whatever," she said. She resumed petting and fondling my thing. "This is so neat. I've always wondered what these really looked like. It's a lot prettier than those crappy drawings in science class. You know, the reproductive ones."

            "Yesss," I said and my voice came out as a groan. I was starting to tremble and there was a terrible sensation in my belly...something building and begging for release.

            "I...I think it's my turn," I gasped.

            "What's wrong?" She frowned. "Just another minute." She smiled again and looked back down at my thing. "Could you imagine...putting your thing in my thing?"

            The thought, along with her stroking was too much. "Devon, stop...please, Devon...!"

            "What's wrong..." she began, and then screamed. I'd just came all in her hands. She looked down at her hands in disbelief, watching the white liquid dribble off them. 

            "I'm sorry, Devon," I whimpered, hiding my now limp thing with my hands.

            She rubbed her hands off on her towel. "That was cool!"

            "Cool?" My eyes widened.

            "It just scared me at first. That is really cool. You know, I'm almost jealous...I can't...shoot like that."

            I still felt stupid and weak. My legs were trembling.

            "I don't need to see yours," I said.

            "You do," she said.

            "I don't really."

            "Fine," she sniffed. She sounded disappointed. Then she headed for the door.

            "What were you doing in there?" A voice demanded and I paled. Someone was home!

            I didn't have time to pull up my pants, because they poked their head in the door. It was my older sister.

            "Snively! You were masturbating!" she screamed.

            "No!"

            "You're dribbling," she said.

            "No, I wasn't."

            "Did you make Devon touch you? You pervert!" she howled. My sister was a man-hater, turned that way by a childhood rape and several abusive boyfriends.

            "No..."

            "I'm telling dad. He's gonna rip the skin off your ass."

            "No! I didn't do anything!" I wailed. "I swear! Devon, tell her!"

            "He didn't do nothing," my cousin agreed.

            "Don't tell me you two were gonna have sex."

            "No," said Devon. " I just wanted to see his thing."

            "YOU wanted to?"

            "Yes."

            "Fine. I won't snitch. But if you two wanna play doctor then you'd better make sure nobody's home."

            We nodded, relieved. Pops wouldn't touch Devon, but he would slaughter me if he knew.

            Leaving the memory world, I laid back on the prison bed, pulling the blanket over me. I had another hard-on, but this time decided I wasn't going to do anything about it. I didn't need any more teasing. Besides, it would go away by itself.

            "I'm frickin' bored," said Drago. "This sucks. I was gonna rule part of Robotropolis. I was gonna be a duke, Robotnik said."

            "For God's sakes, you actually believed him?"

            "Hell yeah, I believed him. He gave me his frickin' word."

            "You're even stupider than I thought." I was lying on my back, so I leaned my head way back so I could see him, upside down and frowning at me. "You were with the Freedom Fighters before...how come you double-crossed them?"

            "Well...here's what happened. We were captured on a mission; me, and Lupe' and that rabbit broad and some geeky-ass fox. Then Robotnik wanted to talk to us separately, to ask about Knothole or whatever."

            "Yes," I said, barely surpressing a yawn. It was an old old story. You would've thought at least one prisoner would've given away Knothole...but they never did. Lots of the prisoners who were caught DIDN'T know where it was. And the ones who did live there would rather die than give up their sanctuary.

            "He's like,'tell or ya'll be roboticized' or whatever. I say to him, 'hey, I don't give a shit about those little squirts'. Ya should've seen his face." The wolf laughed.

            I could imagine. Robotnik at a surprised moment was funny. His eyes would get all round and his huge mouth (always reminded me of a nasty old cave) would drop open. It was like some black hole opening up. He certainly would've been surprised at a prisoner actually agreeing with him.

            "I said 'hey man, I scratch yer back, ya scratch mine, ya know.' He was all for it. So, I told him I'd give him the princess and Knothole, as long as I got a chunk of that city."

            "He lied, he would've never given you any of it," I said.

            "I don't believe ya. He would've. What does he care, long as Knothole's a frickin' ghost town?"

            He wouldn't care, not really. But Robotnik was a neat and tidy guy. He didn't like loose ends. He would've seen Drago as a nuisance after he served his useful purpose. Nuisances were usually turned into workerbots. Or shot and thrown out in a dumpster.

            I was curious about one thing though. "I know Robotnik had some agent dressed as Sonic cut the rope that the princess was using. But he never told me who."

            "It was my girlfriend, heee hee!"

            "How'd you manage that? Or did she turn 'naughty' too?"

            "Fat ass never told ya nothin', did he?"

            "Not really."

            "That Sonic mask had chips in it. Ya know what they did?"

            I shrugged.

            "Made everything look like ya! Don't look at me like that. They did. She thought it was ya climbin' down the buildin'! Stupid bitch, eh?"

            "Why the hell would I be climbing down the Death Egg?" I shook my head at the blatant idiocy of the girl. She must've been braindead to fall for that.

            Drago was laughing.

            I shook my head. "You were just as stupid."

            "And how's that?" he demanded, his mouth still curved in a smile.

            "You really thought Robotnik would keep his word." I let out a laugh of my own.

            "He would've," the wolf insisted. He reached towards his nighttable and grabbed his box of cigarettes. He shook one out and grabbed the lighter.

            I laid back on my bed.

            He blew the smoke towards me, making me cough and wheeze. My lungs are not the best, and smoke didn't help in the least. But it was no use telling him to stop.

            Drago lay silently, puffing the cigarette. Once again, I found myself wishing for my booze. Booze was my cloud. It put a haze over my problems, and held me up over the pit of depression. It didn't solve anything, I know, but it helped me cope.

            The wolf put out his cigarette and got out the package of cookies his mother had given him. He didn't bother to offer one to me, just scarfed them down.

            "My ma's great, isn't she," he said, with crumbs tumbling from his mouth. "She came all the way here, plus brought me fresh porn and goodies."

            I shrugged. "She's all right." For trailer trash, I added in my head.

            "What a mama's boy," said the frog suddenly.

            "Shut up, ya probably didn't even have a mama. Ya probably was a test tube baby or something."

            "Technically, you'd still have a mother...because the eggs had to come from someone," I said.          

            "Shut the hell up, cueball. I didn't ask ya." Drago threw a cookie at me. I snarled at him and brushed crumbs off my head.

            "My mom ruled, but I wasn't a mama's boy," said the frog. "I didn't ask mommy for everything."

            "Neither did I! She brought me this stuff outta the goodness of her heart!"

            "Bah!" spat the frog. "I wouldn't visit my kids if they were dumb enough to get thrown in jail!"

            "Then ya suck," said Drago. He looked at me. "Where's yer mama at?"

            I closed my eyes for a second, feeling an almost overwhelming urge to start bawling. "She's dead," I said.

            "Oh. Sorry 'bout that."

            "It was cancer..."

            The wolf munched a cookie, looking sympathetic. He offered me one for consolance, I suppose, but I shook my head.

            "Part of the reason we...my family...came to Mobius was hoping they had a cure, or at least the new environment would be good for her. But she died anyway."

            "Oh boo hoo," said the frog. I glared over at him. He was being such an asshole today. Maybe he and Drago had switched souls or something; usually the frog was the cheery one and the wolf the meanie.

            "Shut up, frog. Yer just mad because yer mama won't come visit."

            The frog stuck out his long tongue and turned his back on us.

            "So, how was yer mama?"

            "Oh, she was a good lady. But she wasn't strong. She was weak-willed, and weak-bodied... Too bad, because she had a good heart. She tried her best..."

            The wolf shrugged. "Mama's are either good or bad, ya know. Worst way to insult someone is to insult their mama. Especially if it's a good mama." He was talking through a cookie now. "Ya know when I said stuff about yer ma, I was just tryin' to rile ya up, cueball, I didn't mean nothing 'gaisnt her."

            I sighed. "Don't worry about it, Drago."

            "LIGHTS OUT!" I heard Marshe's voice bellow. The lights flickered out seconds after his warning.

            For a moment, I couldn't see anything but pitch black. I heard Drago's teeth grinding cookies. Pretty soon, I could make out his white form, just barely.

            But I was tired. I didn't want to talk anymore. So I snuggled under my covers and fell into a deep sleep.

            Please please please. Please let this be a dream.

            It was...it is a dream...

            But at the same time, it isn't...

            This couldn't be. Pops, the stupid bastard...he was drunk on the couch. The tv was blaring. Laugh tracks? Stupid sitcoms. Who can laugh at a time like this?

            I was leaned up against the wall. I was slamming my head into it. It hurt. Wetness on my cheeks? I was crying. Not just tears, but the kind of crying that makes your face scrunch up and your chest hurt and ragged sobs break from your mouth.

            She can't be...she can't be...

            "SHE CAN'T BE!!!" I screamed.

            "Shut the hell up," growled Pops.

            I slammed my fists against the wall. They made an erratic thumping sound, much like my heart at the moment. I beat them harder. Thump-thump. It sounded like the drumbeat of an angst band.          

            My angel...my friend, the only one who cared...she couldn't be...

            (down in the dirt, where it's cold, oh God no)

            She couldn't be

            (the hole would be dug, the minister would talk...no, it's not right to talk to God at a time like this. He took her, how could he take her)

            My mother...

            (rose petals will cover her gra...ve...my tears on her tombstone) NOOOOOO!!! My mother...she couldn't be dead!!!

            This is a dream, WAKE UP!

            But I knew even if I woke up, it would still be the same.

            My mama would still be dead.

Chapter 7: Screwed.

Tied down to this bed of shame

You tried to move around the pain

But oh, your soul is anchored

---Sarah McLachlan "Ice"

            Time flies when you're having fun. That's the old cliché, isn't it? It's not entirely false. While I was not having fun, I suppose I couldn't have been all that bored either, because a month had already passed.

            I was lifting weights (don't laugh, it's not that funny) in the exercise pen. Thought I'd try to build some muscle. But it was probably pointless. My body was too light and frail to support more than the skin and muscle I already had.

            I heard somebody take weights off the rack behind me. I turned around to see Nack smiling at me toothily. Sleuth was behind him. Nack's weight was a little heavier than mine, but Sleuth was holding two fifty pound dumbbells with ease.

            "Hey, we've been talking around, ya know, and everyone thinks if a skinny dweeb like you can make a bust, then we all can."

            "I wouldn't recommend it," I said.

            "I mean all of us. Tagetha."

            "Yeah. The guards are wimps. I could bust their asses just by myself," said Sleuth, lifting the weights high above his head.

            Nack set his weights down and picked up a basketball. He bounced it in time to his words. "We're gonna try tonight."

            A tiny flare of excitement leapt in me, but it was overshadowed by...fear? I did not want to go back to solitary.

            "You're insane. I don't want any part of this."

            "Why not?" He must've saw something in my eyes. "Yer scared, aren't ya?"

            I couldn't go back to solitary. Yes, it was nice to be away from Drago and Flying Frog at first. But I was starting to like them. Or at least their voices. Although they were irritating, they kept me from going crazy.

            The basketball was still bouncing, Nack was still talking. "We don't need you anyway."

            That night, I stood in the dinner line. My legs were shaking, and I had my hands clasped together so they wouldn't tremble. Damn damn damn! Were those fools going to try anything or not?

            I couldn't look nervous.

            I looked over at the guards. They were milling around, not really watching us. But still, I couldn't look nervous.

            Who the hell am I kidding? It doesn't matter, because I'm the Overlander. The blame falls on me, no matter who started it or what happened.

            Maybe it'd been better if I had been born a Mobian. I wouldn't be in this mess. Hell, I'd just be in a different one. I'd be a victim of Robotnik either way.

            Maybe it would've just been better if I'd stayed on Earth. Even though the people abused it until it broke. Earth wasn't even around anymore. It was just bits of dust floating through space.

            I was broke out of my thoughts when Nack slammed his tail against the food counter. It made a resounding thump, and before anyone could react, the old cliché happened; all hell broke loose.

            Sleuth, Nack and Ernie leapt over the counter, catching the cooks off guard.

            The guards drew their guns, but couldn't shoot. The cooks were now being used as shields.

            Guard Tattle moved close to Nack. "Let go of him."

            "Back off," the weasel sneered.

            "Let him go or I'll shoot you!"

            "Ya'll hafta shoot through yer friend."

            Guard Tattle could've shot Nack. Nack was taller than the cook. His whole head was clear to shoot. But unless Tattle's gun was pressed right up against Nack's skull, the cook would be blown away too. Tattle's gun was a powerful piece.

            Tattle didn't see Nack's tail. It slammed into his legs and he stumbled. Nack was all over him, scooping the gun off the floor. The other guards moved to take a shot, but it was too late. Nack had straightened up and had the cook in his grasp again.

            "Now all of you can back off." The weasel pressed the gun to the cook's head. The cook's mouth gaped open.

            The guards moved back a little.

            "Now, put down yer guns."

            The guards looked hesitant. I couldn't blame them. Who'd want to be defenseless in the face of a bunch of criminals?

            "Put 'em down!" Nack shoved the gun harder against the cook's head, bending the man's head onto his shoulder. The cook whimpered.

            One guard put his gun down, and without being asked, he kicked it towards the convicts. Sleuth picked it up and threatened the other cook.

            A few more guns were dropped and kicked towards us. Some of the prisoners picked them up. I inched away from them. No way was I gonna get caught in any crossfire.

            Sleuth laughed. "Don't play hero, just put down yer damn guns. Unless you want---ahhhhh!" He was cut off when one of the guards fired.

            Nack dove to the floor and fired shots. I heard a guard shriek in pain.

            Shots filled the air. The glass of the food counter shattered. The unarmed prisoners tried to use their trays as shields. I saw a blast shatter Flying Frog's tray. He was lucky; the blast missed him.

            I dropped to the floor. I saw a guard writhing around, blood flooding the floor around him. Oh great. This was just spiffy.

            Another guard aimed and took a shot. I followed his gaze and saw the ugly blue hawk scream and fall to the floor, his leg bloody.

            Nack aimed at a group of guards, who were standing foolishly close together. The weasel's hand tightened on the trigger.

            The guards scattered before the shot was taken; Nack was knocked backwards by the gun's power. The wall dented inwards where the blast had struck.

I crawled amidst broken glass and shattered bits of tray, taking refuge under one of the tables.

            I admit, I was scared. One side was going to win, and it didn't look pretty either way. I hugged the metal table leg, watched the action, and hoped I wasn't going to end up dead.

            Tattle came up behind Sleuth, his beloved taser in hand. The big dog howled and dropped to the floor. I saw his eyes rolling around and he didn't fight when Tattle kicked his gun away. It spun across the floor. Tattle moved to grab it, but was attacked by Ernie.

            The gun twirled across the floor, the light catching its silvery trim. It came to a stop right in front of me.

            I reached for it.

            A foot stepped down on my hand.

            "I don't think so, prick."

            I looked up at some nameless guard's face. His gun came into view, pointing down at me.

            "NO!"

            He smiled, finger tightening on the trigger.

            "CLEAR OUT!" Marshe's voice broke through the clamor. "CLEAR OUT NOW!"

            Some of the guards made it out the doors. The prisoners rushed after them, but the doors slammed in their face.

            "DAMN! We're locked in!"

            Nack aimed his gun at the door. "I'll take care of that."

            I heard a hissing noise. At first I thought it was coming from somebody, but then realized it was coming from above. I scooted out from under the table and looked up.

            A faint green smoke was coming from a pipe in the ceiling. No, not smoke.

            "IT'S GAS!" I shrieked.

            "WHAT?" Nack whirled around to look at me. I pointed up at the ceiling. The air was getting thick.  

            "Damn, I'll take care of it."

            "NO! Don't shoot that!"

            "Shut up, Snively." Nack fired.

            A hole was blown through the ceiling and I saw a canister within the ceiling. A pipe brought the gas from the canister to this room. But now the canister was broken open, and instead of just a little gas coming in...it was all of it.

            "Damn," said Nack. "This sucks. I thought this plan was gonna work."

            "What kind of gas is it?" asked Sleuth, his voice sounding slightly panicked.

            Nack's eyes fluttered and he yawned. "Shit, man, I think it's slee..." He collapsed on the floor.

            Shit indeed...I managed to think, before I fell into a sudden darkness.

            Ohh...

            Ohhh...what happened?

            Ow, that light is so damn bright. Where am I?

            I tried to move.

            But I couldn't.

            I opened my eyes, then shut them. There was bright light all around, and it hurt. It was hot light too; I could feel the heat on my forehead.

            There was something on my head. It felt like a crown or something. I tried to raise my hands to feel it, but they were strapped down.

            I opened my eyes slowly, letting my eyelids slid up fraction by fraction until I could stand the light.

            I saw Nack and Sleuth. They were strapped down in interrogation chairs, bright lights aimed on their faces. I blinked. They had something on their heads. A metal headband of some sort.

            Oh great.

            It was an electroshock headband.

            I knew very well what those were. I'd used them back in Robotropolis. It was a nice clean torture method. Just send thousands of bolts through your victim's body. It often makes them talk very readily. And there's usually little mess to clean up. There was just drool, sometimes the occasional puddle of vomit, or even more rare, eyeballs that had just popped out. -POP!-

            I giggled slightly. Why the hell am I laughing...this isn't funny...I've got one of those on my head, and I know what they can do...

            The giggling turned to a sort of panicked noise and I struggled hard against my bonds. But they were strong. I tried to move my feet, but they were restrained also.

            I struggled harder, feeling the wrist bonds scrapping up my arms; felt blood start oozing as my flesh was scratched. They wouldn't give; I fell back in the chair, panting.

            There was a glass window in this room. Out through it was a hallway of the prison. Marshe and Tattle were out there, blabbing about something. Tattle glanced my way, and I saw his pointed muzzle curve in a grin.

He nudged Marshe, and they came in the room.

            "So glad you're awake," said Tattle. I noticed there was a video camera in the room, which Marshe was turning on.

            Tattle turned his back on us to smile at the camera lens. It twirled around, focusing on his face. "This is what'll happen to you saps if you try that shit again," he sneered.

            He faced us again. "We got the prisoners watching you guys down in the café'. Since you three were the ringleaders, you're gonna be the example of what NOT to do in the Devil's Gulag."

            "I didn't have anything to do with it!" I exclaimed.

            "Sure!" Tattle laughed. "You say that now. I bet you bragged before though, didn't you? We know you, Overlander, you're the one who starts trouble."

            "Yeah, nobody else's been in solitary. Nobody else escaped their cell two times in a week." Marshe grinned.

            "In fact, you were probably the leader, weren't you? You probably planned it all!"

            "I didn't!" I protested. "I swear, I didn't have anything to do with it! It wasn't my idea, and I didn't want any part of it!"

            He slapped me across the face. "Shut up."

            He turned to Sleuth. "You know what that is on your head?"

            The dog shook his head. Nack looked worried.

            "It's an electroshock headband. You guys thought you were sooo bad."

            The camera was treated to another one of Tattle's sadistic grins. "If you don't want this to happen to you, then you'd better stay in line."

            He drew a remote from his pocket. There was a dial on it, and a button. The dial was to turn up the voltage. The button was pressed down to shock.

            Tattle's finger stroked the remote, and he smiled at us. Then he jabbed the button.

            I heard Nack and Sleuth screaming. They screamed so loud, so powerfully...you think they'd start spitting up bits of their lungs, you think their voiceboxes would shatter. There was a third voice shrieking along with them; it was high and agonized and strangely familiar...oh God it's mine.

            My wrists hurt terribly, and I heard bone creak. I couldn't stop moving. My body was jerking against the bonds uncontrollably; I was hurting myself...

My nerves felt scorched, lightning was ripping through my nerves, my blood. My heart pulsed and pounded, it's going to explode...

            Something was warm on my mouth, dripping down my chin. Blood, hmmm. My tongue hurt and I felt my teeth grinding down into it.

            Stop stoppppp stopppp...please...my eyes are sizzling...my hands stretched like claws, straining so hard, the bones are going to pop through...

            Stop...God please...I can't breathe...I can't... My lungs struggled to bring in air.

            Then it stopped. So suddenly. My whole body went limp and I gasped for breath frantically.

            Tremors hit my body and I whimpered. The shaking hurt. I felt burnt from the inside.

            "All done," said Tattle. He handed the remote to Marshe.

            "Just kidding!" laughed the beaver guard. His voice was high with glee.

            "NOOOOO!" somebody shrieked. It sounded like me.

            The pain was worse...so much worse. What could hurt this bad...? My eyes were filled with white flashes. I could only think of stars; their blinding white light, their intense heat, their brilliance; it felt like stars had swooped down to attack me. This was worse than fire, worse than lightning...

            My throat was raw and I couldn't hear the screaming anymore. Something warm flooded my seat, and I smelled a sharp odor. It hurt...God I hurt all over...I have to die, I have to faint...I have to get out of this...

            It stopped. Marshe was laughing.

            "How'd it feel?"

            Tattle's image blurred before me; I stared straight at him without seeing him, and felt my body shaking violently.

            We were brought back to our cells, I guess. I can't remember for sure. I remember crawling into my bed, and curling up like a fetus.

            "Are you ok?" Drago asked. His voice kept repeating, but I couldn't answer...what the hell was I supposed to say? I couldn't talk...my throat felt destroyed. I felt coolness in my eyes. Tears...maybe.

            I grasped my blanket almost frantically, pulling it to me and hugging it tight against me. I need to get out of here...it hurts too bad...

            The world faded out.

            Life is but a dream...

            "Life is but a dream, life is but a dream!" I remember that kid, how incoherently he screamed that phrase. At first, he just hummed it. I remember, I asked him about Knothole. That was the BIG question, the one Julian always asked, and always made me and Packbell ask when we interrogated.

            The kid didn't know anything. But Julian would be angry if the boy wasn't tortured. So, I got out the ole electroshock headband. It was my favorite torture device. I wasn't like Packbell. He liked messy torture. He liked drawing blood, and breaking bones. With women, he was the worst; he hurt and humiliated them in the worst ways. Even I had my boundaries.

            Electroshock wasn't particularly pretty to look at, but at least it wasn't too messy.

            I asked him one more time. He shook his head, still humming the stupid rowboat song, which was irritating, to say the least. So I shocked the little monster.

            "LIFE IS BUT A DREAM!!!" he howled and that phrase started echoing, louder and louder.

            "GODDAMN!" I put my hands over my ears.

            The dream tilted and spun. God, I hate dreams.

            The echoes quieted down. I took my hands away from my ears, relieved. But the relief didn't last long.

            The kid was loose. I don't know how...but this is a damn dream, isn't it?

            He grabbed me with a strength that he shouldn't possess, and threw me down in the chair. I pulled against the restraints, but they were tight.

            "Row, row, row yer boat," he crooned, his tiny hand reaching towards a table of instruments. They were the ones Packbell used. Scalpels, knives, whips...

            He whirled around, a scalpel shining in his hand. His eyes were equally shiny, filled with malicious intent. I squirmed around, trying desperately to pull my hands out through the restraints. It just hurt my wrists.

            "No...no please...OWWWWW!" I jerked against the bonds, feeling the cold metal slash my leg. The kid chuckled, and slashed at me again. I felt blood dripping down my arm.

            "STOP!"

            He smiled, and drew back the scalpel. I tried to escape again, but in vain. He thrust his hand forward hard, burying the little blade in my stomach. A choked cry came from my mouth, and tears sprang into my eyes. The kid sneered and went back to the instrument table, just leaving the scalpel.

            I felt incredibly sick, and leaned my head back, taking in gulps of the stale air. I could taste metal in my mouth, like the scalpel was shoved down my throat instead of being jammed into my belly.

            He came back, holding a miniature taser.

            Shit. I felt sicker. This wasn't going to be pleasant.

            The kid smiled at me again, and yanked the scalpel from my body.

            "What are y-you going to d-d-dooo?"

            He shoved the business end of the taser into my wound. He had to wiggle it around to get it in. I didn't even try to hold it back; I screamed.

            He giggled and wiggled it in deeper. "Merrily, merrily merrily," he babbled.

            "Stop...stoppp please..." I was pleading shamelessly, but the pain was so bad I thought I'd puke. The lower half of my shirt and my legs were soaked with blood.

            "Gently down the stream," was his only reply. I saw his little finger move towards the button on the taser.

            "NO! NO PLEASE! YOU CAN'T DO THIS!!!"

            He just smiled, all innocent and sweet. Then he pressed the button.

            Screaming is not the word for it. I did not scream. I poured my pain out through my voice. The kid's ears flattened down, but he didn't stop smiling. Or zapping me.

            The pain wasn't just in my belly. It was all through me. Traveling through my nerves, my blood. I felt cooked alive. I felt like a lobster must feel after being thrown into the boiling cook pot.

            The pain spread out, flaring over me. I felt on fire, I felt my skin growing hot and bubbling. My eyes felt swelled, like they would explode and I started to wheeze, unable to breathe. The air came in, but somehow my lungs wouldn't hold it. My heart panicked, and skipped beats. Blackness fluttered around, holding a promise of silence, of painlessness. I reached out for it...

            And awoke.

            I sat up abruptly, and immediately doubled over in pain, whimpering like a child. I felt dizzy and fell forward onto the bed, my left cheek pressed into the hard mattress. My left eye was scrunched up and watery with tears. Through my right, I could see Drago looking over at me. I thought I saw concern on his face, but couldn't be sure.

            "Ya ok?" he asked. His voice sounded neutral enough, so maybe the worried look was my imagination.

            "It hurts," I groaned.

            "Ya got fried."

            My mouth felt dry. I went for my water glass. Bad idea. The pain was like an electrical wire shoved into my heart. I hated whining but I couldn't help it. I fell onto the bed again, crying and screaming.

            "Be quiet, man," I heard Flying Frog say.

            I shut my mouth, but couldn't stop whimpering. The pain faded away as I lay still. But if even one muscle twitched, the pain struck me.

            I've got to get out of here...

CHAPTER 8: Dry bones make bad pickings

I hope one day you call up your father

And you have the guts

To tell him how much he hurt you

And how he made you hurt another

Cause it makes me sad

---Poe "That Day"

            "Ow...stop..."

            Mama was wheezing in the background. Pops was upsetting her. But he didn't see that. All he could see was that I'd been fighting with my older sister. She shoved me. I knocked over one of mama's favorite vases. Or should I say, her only vase, a pretty piece of ceramic, with flowers painted on it.

            Mama was sort of mad, but when Pops found out, he made a big deal about it. He always made big deals about any mistake I made. If my sister had broken it, he might've scolded her. But me...he was pounding me like I was a punching bag. I could feel bruises already rising on my back and my arms.

            My mama was sitting on the couch. Pops drove me back against the wall. I had my arms crossed in front of me like a shield; through the space between Pop's arm and his body I could see mama slumped on the couch. Tears shone on her face, but she wouldn't speak out for me. She never did. Maybe she was afraid Pop's rage would transfer to her. I don't believe it would; he practically worshiped her, but she took no chances. I can't say I blamed her...but it made something in my heart twist...it hurt me almost as much as Pops...

            Pops drew his fist back. I threw my arm up. His punch came down, striking my arm right on the elbow...my arm bent the way it wasn't supposed to. I screamed loud. Mama huddled down on the couch, her arms clasped on her head, her arms covering her ears.

            "MAMA HELP ME!!" I begged her, but she just pressed her arms tighter. Willing my voice away. How could she do this to me...how could she just ignore me...her son for God's sake...

            Another punch came down. It jarred my entire body, bent my ribs inwards until one cracked. The room vibrated from the force of my screams.

            "SHUT UP!" Pops screamed. "YOU FUCKIN' BABY! SHUT UP!" He grabbed me by my t-shirt collar, yanking me close to him. I sobbed and leaned my head against his chest.

            He yanked my head back up, my thick hair making a good handhold. "You should be ASHAMED of yourself," he sneered. "Listen to you. Carrying on like a baby! Like a little baby girl! You little bastard...you aren't my kid, no way, no way did an embarrassment like you come from me..."

            His eyes bored into mine, and I stared back, my mouth dropped open. He couldn't mean it. "Pops...please..."

            "SHUT UP!" His breath blasted my face. He threw me down and I howled again.

            "You don't deserve a real name," he scoffed down at me. "You deserve a name that fits you. Baby, maybe. Whiner." He kicked me and I tried hard to bite back a scream, but I couldn't help it. It hurt so bad, so bad I thought I'd die, and my voice reflected that.

            "Little bastard, you little craven...sniveler..." He smiled suddenly. "I like that one, huh...Sniveler. How 'bout I call you that from now on? Would you like it? You would, wouldn't you?"

            "Yes, yes I would!" I sobbed. Anything to calm him down. Anything to get him away from me.

            "Puh...knew you would." My mama made a small sound and he looked over at her. "Look what you did to her," he growled. He left me and cradled her in his arms. I saw her stiffen. Pops stroked her hair and mummered at her. Over her head, he glared at me.

            'You did it', I wanted to scream at him. 'You HURT her. Not me.' But I was afraid to. I gazed at the back of my mama's head. She had thick reddish-brown hair. It fell a little past her shoulders.

            At first glance, it looked like the head of a young woman. Her body did too, small hips and breasts. But a quick glance at her face showed she was aged. It was a false impression; she wasn't as old as she looked. But cancer will do that to you...

            She whimpered and pressed her face into his chest. His arms tightened around her. I saw concern on his face. For a brief second, I felt some emotion flaring over the pain...jealously. Extreme jealousy, so intense I could almost see my skin turning green. I was so jealous of his love for her. Why couldn't I get a little piece of that love? Then he raised his eyes to mine again, and scowled.

            "You still here, Sniveler? Get the fuck outta here."

            Brightness hit my eyelids and I blinked. I opened them. My cruddy living room faded out and was replaced with my jail cell. It was strangely comforting. How I hated my dreams. They were either nightmares, or memories that I didn't want to remember.

            Everybody's called me a coward. Pops, Julian. Julian especially. The Freedom Fighters all scoffed at me. It's true, I am a coward. But I can't help it. They don't know that Julian was a coward too. He can't face up. At least I can. I can face my past. I can forget, but I can't forgive. But he can't do either...

            He was a big fool, if you ask me, in more ways than one. He thought he could rule the world. He thought he, one man (one very fat ugly man) could dominant an entire planet, but it was foolishness.

            I'm stupid too, I suppose, because his dreams were mine. I wanted to rule too. I wanted the power, because I'm powerless...and I've always been. But it wasn't just the power for him...it was the hate...the pain...the fear. I would be content with someone calling me 'sir', but he wants them to hurt so bad that they won't go against him. He wants them down on their knees, humiliated.

            Julian was a coward because he couldn't face his past. Not realistically. Oh no...he made up big fancy stories and taped them over the dirty stain that was his childhood. I guess he was worse off then I. Maybe. I had it bad. I don't know for sure. I'm younger than Julian by far, I wasn't around when he was a kid, but still, I know he was lying when he said his childhood was sparkling and clean and merry and all that shit.

            I've got a sixth sense for detecting suffering. I can feel it, like a tremble in my mind, because I've been there. 'Been there, done that,', that's one of the 'cool' phrases now, isn't it? Well it holds true to me. When it comes to suffering, I've experienced my share.

            "Look at them tits. You think they're fake, or they run in the family, eh?" Flying Frog held out his magazine towards me, but I ignored him.

            Runs in the family, puh, that phrase certainly applies to mine. What runs in it, hmmm? Insanity perhaps? Delusionists? A love of alcohol? Pain...? Yes. The last certainly applies. I hated my father, but I must admit, it was his father that made him that way. Mean. Cruel. Disregarding his kids, just like his father before him. It's the gift that keeps giving, I suppose. If I ever had kids, I would've probably beaten them too...

            I closed my eyes tight, feeling the pressure of my eyelids against my eyes. If I closed them tight enough, would my eyelids crush my eyes? No, of course not.

            I'm thinking incoherently now. I'm sliding down, I can feel myself dropping into that pit of darkness. When one memory is stirred up, others usually follow. Instead of just living, just being, I start analyzing myself. Looking deep within. That's not a good thing. I know what's there, and it isn't good.

            I'm a very hate filled being...honestly. People, they think I'm harmless, and they think I'm on the wrong side. Like I should be on the good side instead. But that's bull. I couldn't be good. I don't have any left.

            My hatred didn't start with Robotnik, obviously. He just made me worse. It all started with my father...

            Ah...my Pops. What can be said about him that hasn't already been said? Nothing. But my mind wouldn't let go. I had to relive his image, his actions.

            Beau was my father's name, and unlike the French word, he wasn't handsome. He lived on some ranch or something when he was a kid, raising horses. He was still pretty well-built, though his muscles started turning soft when he was older.

            Beau was a shitty father. I say 'was' because he's dead, good riddance. I don't say that lightly, either. 

            To my siblings and my two live-in cousins, Beau was kind. He joked with them. He wrestled with them. My older brother was muscular and into football, so maybe that's why. And Beau was never mean to females...so my sister and cousins got off easy.

            But to me...he was anything but kind. I was small and scrawny, apathetic in school, not into sports... he hated me, and I him.

            And to show his hatred for me, he put bruises on my body, and breaks in my bones, and cracks in my sanity...

            It was a long time ago...I was around 12 years old. I got up early that morning. The floor was cold through my thin socks and I shivered, standing in my underwear. Saturday. Great. I didn't like Saturdays...but then again, I didn't like any day.

            Devon peered in the doorway, and then sidled into the room. "Hey."

            "Get out."

            She looked hurt. "I'm just saying hi."

            "Well, hi then."

            Her eyes moved to my underwear, and she smiled.

            I scowled.

            "You need help gettin' dressed?" she asked, moving closer.

            "NO!" I jumped backwards as her fingers touched the white cotton.

            "AWWWWW...c'mon, Snivvy!!"

            "Devon, knock it off." I was shivering hard now, goosebumps rising up on my bare arms. "Get out of here."

            She snorted and moved closer. That's when I grabbed her by the wrists and tried to shove her away. She ended up tripping, falling to her knees, and I reached down to help her up...

            That's when Pops walked in. And from his point of view, with her on her knees, and my hand reaching down towards her arm...it must've looked obscene to him.

            "Devon. Out." He growled. Even though he never struck the girls, when he commanded, you obeyed. Devon rose to her feet and slunk from the room, though I suspected she hovered around my door to eavesdrop.

            Pops reached behind him and shut the door. It clicked shut, and I felt my heart jump with that click. I backed away, feeling sweat beading up on my freezing skin.

            "What were you doing to your cousin?" he demanded.

            "Nothing," I squeaked. "I wasn't doing anything. I told her to leave so I could get dressed. But she wouldn't, so I pushed her, and she fell."

            "You were trying to make her blow you, weren't you?"

            At that time, I wasn't fully aware of all sex terms, so I just stared blankly at him.

            "You were, weren't you? Little fucker, I'll teach you to force women..."

            "I didn't do anything!" I whined.

            "Making your cousin blow you, that's something all right. Something that needs punishment."

            "What's blow?!" I asked in confusion, feeling nearly frantic. Oh God, I didn't need this today.

            "It means you were trying to make her suck your dick!" he bellowed. "And don't tell me you weren't. Horny at your age, I know, but that doesn't call for that. You don't force women. They give it if they want. But you don't fucking force them."

            "I wasn't forcing her to do anything!" I nearly screamed. His nostrils flared and he lunged at me. I scrambled over my bed, but there was nowhere to go. I pressed myself into the corner and slid down to the floor, drawing my knees up to my chest for protection.

            "Get up."

            I remained on the floor.

            "I said get up."

            I started to whine, and then to cry, because I was afraid to obey him and afraid not to. He sneered upon seeing my tears.

            "Get up and take your punishment like a man," he growled. "If you can think about fucking a girl, then you're a man. So get up."

            I didn't want to be a man. I wanted him to go away. I wanted to be dead. I wanted anything but the pain he was going to dish out.

            "Please," I said. "Please, I didn't do anything!"

            "Get up."

            I blinked. Wetness streamed down over my cheeks. My dad's face contorted hideously, and I tried to push myself through the wall. I wanted to disappear, to die right then. Oh God...when he made that face...he was angry, so angry.

            I slowly pushed myself up to a standing position, my legs shaking badly. He just stood and looked steadily at me, his eyes blazing with intense rage. I sobbed helplessly and felt a warm trickle of liquid down my leg.

            He kept looking at me.

            I kept sobbing.

            He grabbed my shoulder and pushed me down. Then he grabbed a handful of my hair and shoved my face agaisnt his crotch. I struggled, but couldn't even budge.

            "You like that?" He drew me away.

            "No!"

            He shoved my face to his crotch again. "Do you think Devon liked it?!"

            "I didn't..."

            He pulled my hair hard. "No," I said. "No, I'm sorry."

            He shoved me away. "Now you know how it feels," he growled. "And if I ever EVER catch you doing anything like that again, I'll kill you." He glared at me one more time, and left.

            Suffice to say...that experience screwed up my first time having sex. I was shocked on that day. The incident haunted me. Pops was obsessed with treating women good. I think his mother had taught him that. Maybe even beaten it into him. Pops might've just been scared of women.

            So I started treating girls the way he taught me. I acted like they were china dolls. If I bumped into one too hard in the crowded school hallway, I would apologize profusely. It earned me some contemptful looks and 'damn, cool it, will you?'

            Eventually, when I got older, I realized women weren't fragile. I stopped being so nice to them. Oh sure, I was nice if they deserved it, but I didn't fawn all over women that passed me by.

            Still, that incident with Pops stayed with me, buried deep into my subconscious.

            Hmmm...I remember the night I lost my virginity. I know amazing, I'm actually not a virgin. I was cute as a kid, I guess.

            The girl was not exactly top-notch. She had curly black hair, cut short. From the back, she was sometimes mistaken as a boy. From the front however, she was definitely female. Her face was slender, with hard, clean cut features. Her eyes were narrow and dark, always glittering with light. She wasn't ugly. But she was somewhat of a slut.

            We were in the classic sex place...her hover-car. We were on a hilltop (imagine that), looking down over the small city we lived in. It was the haven for us Overlanders.

            "Pretty boy, pretty man...how would you like to soar to the stars tonight?" Her voice rasped at me.

            I was tapping my fingers to a tune on the radio, and looking at the view of the city. "Hmmm?" I looked over at her.

            "You silly little thing," she laughed, and put her hand to my face, curling her fingers around a lock of my hair.

            "How about I put it more simply?" She reached her fingers up to her black zip-up vest and pulled the zipper down. I felt something within tighten at the sight of her bra. Black, the color she always wore. She threw the vest into the backseat.

            "Go on," she urged. I nodded, feeling a bit awkward. She knew what she was doing...I didn't. My hands trembled as she leaned forward to kiss me. Her tongue danced in my mouth, and she snuggled into my chest. I reached around her, unclasping the bra.

            She leaned forward, and it dropped into her lap. Her breasts were nice...maybe not as pretty as Devon's, but still pretty. Devon's breasts were tipped with pink, this girl had brown. But whatever color, they were still quite attractive, and quite thrilling. I ran my fingers along them; the feel of the smooth flesh was very arousing.

            My heart was thudding in my chest as I pinched her nipples between my fingers, rolled them around. She sighed a little and leaned her head back against the window. I gathered up my courage and leaned forward, kissing the curve of her neck, then her collarbone, and finally, her breasts. My lips closed around the nipple and I felt something jolt down my spine...electricity, lightning...something tingling and wild.

            She sighed more. Must be doing something right. I moved to the other breast, and she moaned a bit. The left one was more sensitive.

            She grew restless finally, and gently pushed me off. She ran her hands up my thighs, and clinked her mauve fingernails against my zipper. Her eyes meant mine, still sparkling, even though there was barely any light. She smiled; must've seen the pleading look in my eyes.

            She unzipped my pants, and pulled them off with a throaty laugh. "Does my pretty man have a pretty cock too?" she crooned. She ran her hands through my hair, dragged her nails gently down the sides of my face.

            I just smiled at her, slightly dreamy. She was beautiful tonight. She was a goddess tonight.

            She rubbed her palm over the bulge in my underwear. It felt so nice, I just leaned back and sighed, much like she had. Then she tugged at them. I let her take them off, feeling no shame.

            I closed my eyes, feeling her fingers gently exploring. A sudden wetness made me jump and I looked down. I saw the top of her head buried in my lap, felt her tongue moving over me. "OohhhGod."

            I whimpered a little. It was so incredible...so beyond anything I'd felt before. I had the urge to shove her head down further, but I resisted. She knew what she was doing.

            She was making slurping noises, which just turned me on more. I laced my fingers through her hair.

A voice flashed through my head. Now...now you know how it feels... I ignored it at first, but it kept getting louder.

            You don't force them...you don't force them...

            I shook my head, trying to shake it out. The loud growl...I recognized it as Pops.

            "I'm not forcing her," I mummered. My fingers tightened in her hair.

            YOU DON'T FORCE THEM!

            YOU LITTLE BASTARD...

            KILL YOU IF YOU DO THAT AGAIN...

            I felt frantic suddenly. A feeling was building up in my belly...an explosive feeling. I knew what that was...climax, orgasm, whatever you want to call it... But something else was there. Raw terror. I started gasping, staring down at her head. At my hands curled in the hair of her head. Oh God...was I hurting her...was I making her...

            Something in my throat trembled, and I started sobbing suddenly. Every breath I took in came out wheezy and scared.

            She looked up, a little frown on her face. It turned to a smile. "You really like this, don't you?"

            Her head went back down. My body jerked and a weird cry came from my mouth. I was swept away by a fierce and wild sensation.

            She raised her head up again.

            "Are you all right?" I asked.

            "Of course, little man." She licked her lips. "You did dribble on my seats a little. Nothing to worry about. Not like it hasn't happened before." She closed her eye in a lewd wink.

            She reached her hands down to her black skirt, and unzipped it. It fell onto the seat. Her panties, also black, followed quickly.

            I gawked a little, which made her laugh heartily. Then she sprawled out, as if displaying herself for my wittle virgin eyes.

            "Fuck me good and hard, my pretty man," she rasped. My, she always had a way with words.

            I was already hard again, imagine that. STAY OUT OF MY HEAD, I ordered that nasty voice of my pops.

            I wanted to poke around a little, explore her female bits first, but she looked impatient. I realized she'd gotten me off, but I hadn't done much for her yet.

            I jabbed my finger at her first. She snarled at me. "Not your hands, my anemic little boy...your cock."

            "All right, all right," I said, giving in happily.

            I crawled over the seat until I was above her. I looked down at her face, feeling a bit awkward. She'd done it so many times...how could I satisfy her?

            I missed at first. She laughed her head off. "Do you need me to guide you?" she asked.

            "No," I snapped, feeling heat seep into my cheeks. I moved more carefully, and knew I was right this time. I felt myself ease into her. She blew her breath out, looking contended.

            "I do love the feel of a cock in me."

            I wasn't as nonchalant, gasping and panting. We weren't even moving yet, and I felt like I was going to explode. The feel of her was incredible. 

            "You gonna just lay there or what?" Her voice nipped at me.

            "Ummm...all right," I mummered. I tried to think of what to do. You know what to do! A voice shouted at me. Thrust. In and out.

            So I did. It felt awkward at first. But I got into it, and she started moving with me. It was going great until she started making noise.

            "YESSSS!" She screeched. "HARDER! Come on, yes...that's it." Her hips moved against me. I was grinning like a fool, but it was pretty amazing. I heard somebody say one time that sex was overrated, but for me it wasn't. It felt pretty damn good.

            Her cries were turning into shrieking, primal desperate screaming. I slowed down a little, my forehead wrinkling worriedly.

            LOOK WHAT YOU DID TO HER, YOU BASTARD! YOU HURT HER!! I cringed suddenly, imagining Pop's fist.

            "Noooo, please, not now."

            She screamed louder, her hands clutching at me.

            I felt my lungs panic, and refuse to take in air. Shit...I felt dizzy, and now I was hyperventilating... I felt the pleasure seep out. All I could hear was her screaming...and Pops hollering at me...and mama crying...

            "NO!" I wailed. "STOP!"

            I wasn't excited anymore. I was frightened and suddenly vulnerable.

            "What the hell?" She wiggled out from under me. "You're limp as a worm, little boy. You didn't cum, I would've felt it."

            I leaned my head back against the window, my eyes wide in panic. I couldn't breathe...

            She slapped me hard. "WHAT'S YOUR PROBLEM?"

            "I'm sorry, I'm sorry..." I whined. "I can't do it anymore."

            "Goddamn, this is what I get for boning a virgin." She rubbed her hand over her forehead, looking pissed. "You can't get up again?"

            I knew I couldn't, so I didn't lie. "No, I'm sorry."

            She reached over me and opened the car door. I nearly fell out, and she helped me along, shoving me out.

            "Wait!" I cried, but the car whirred to life and she left me alone on the hilltop.

            I sat there, half-naked. My pants and skivvies were in her car...DAMN. My shirt wasn't long enough to cover anything.

            The grass was itchy under my bare ass, not to mention cold with night dew.

            "DAMN YOU!" I screamed suddenly. "DAMN YOU!!!!" I realized that I was screaming it at my father.

            He was the reason I was here.

            My second try, with a different girl, was better. No nasty voice of Pops whispering what a bad boy I was. I was satisfied with it, but the girl obviously wasn't; she dumped me soon after.

            After that, I didn't think of sex so much. Or rather, didn't pursue it. Especially after I started working for Julian. We were always working on something, so I was busy, and even busier when he started on his plan to overthrow the king.

            My thoughts wandered to a girl with hair of fire, eyes the color of ocean water, green and blue. Devon. Why did any thoughts of women always come back to her?

            Because you're in love, a squeaky little voice said, but I ignored it.

            I remember the last time I saw her...

            She came to Robotropolis with her sister. I hadn't seen Devon in a long time. Last time I saw her, she was a preteen. When she came to Robotropolis and we saw each other again, she was twenty-two.

            I hid it well, but when I first saw her, I was astonished. Her little girl body had filled out. She had the full hips, slender waist, and all the curves of a good-looking woman. She brought out a feeling I hadn't known for a while; lust.

            I didn't let her know that, of course. The girl was still fond of me, even after all these years. I couldn't focus on my work for the time she was there (a few days); all I could think of was her body...most specifically, her long hair, her breasts, those beautiful legs...

            That was the only time since school that I really thought of sex. A lot. If Devon just brushed up against me, I was shivering inwardly. I resisted her charms though; nothing happened.

            I can't say nothing happened by myself... In the shower, I stood with the hot water beating down on me, my thoughts on her. All I could see was her, sprawled out on my bed, her hair like fire against the black blanket. My thoughts were almost always obscene... I saw her naked, back arched, her hair strewn out like red ribbons around her. Her body was always strangely shining, her nipples sparkling, the curve of her breasts heaving, a lewd smile on her lips. Her feet would twist in the sheets, her hand thrust between her legs, all nestled in among the coppery hairs.

            I knew I shouldn't be thinking those thoughts, and my cheeks would get red, not just from the heat of the shower. I couldn't push them away...and my body wouldn't let go either. What happened after that is probably best left unsaid...

            Drago's waking yawn jerked me out of my memories. My breathing was coming in heavier than usual. I was aroused again, and lying on my back, I didn't have time to hide it. Drago grinned toothily as he looked over at me.

            "Ya want a magazine?" He thrust one through the bars and it landed on my cell floor. "Go on, pick it up. Me and Frog don't mind if you do a little 'banana peelin'."

            Flying Frog laughed his usual insane laugh, and I knew my cheeks were flushed.

            I sat up and pulled the blanket over my lap. "No thanks."

            Drago got up and put a pair of boxer shorts on his head. The frog laughed even more. Drago smiled and began dancing around, what he probably thought was sexy; a lot of hip swinging.

            "Hey, a little music here!" bellowed the wolf down the hall. Somebody down there (Ernie, actually) played guitar occasionally. A fast strumming started up. The wolf danced faster.

            Flying Frog clapped his hands, laughing his green ass off. I wasn't so amused, but I allowed myself a tiny smile.

            Drago twirled around, looking graceful despite his bulkiness. He grinned, eyes closed, and did a few clumsy hops and jumps. His foot landed upon one of his magazines, and he slipped, landing in a pile on the floor. The frog screamed with laughter.

            "It isn't that funny," I said, but I couldn't help laughing a little.

            The wolf got up. "I'm good, eh?"

            "I'm better," said the frog. He stood up on his skinny green legs and twirled around like a ballerina dancer. Drago started his hip wiggling again. Ernie was playing some fast flamenco-type song now.

            The wolf clapped while he danced, and winked at me. "C'mon cueball, join in!"

            "I don't dance," I said, remaining on the bed.

            "Aw, c'mon."

            "No," I said stubbornly.

            He shrugged.

            They continued to dance until Ernie stopped playing, which was about ten minutes later.

            I laid back on the bed, still tapping my foot to Ernie's tune. It was funny, in a way. This place was a prison, and it was more amusing than Robotropolis had ever been. What does that say about Robotropolis?

            It says I'm going to have to spice up the place a little when I get back.

Chapter 9: Shitballs

Well, I've never prayed, but tonight I'm on my knees...

--The Verve "BitterSweet Symphonthy"

            A basketball bounced against the fencing of the exercise pen. Sleuth ran past me to get it. I was sitting on the floor. He paused when he came back. "Hey, you wanna join in? We need a coupla more players."

            I debated for a moment. I was bored. "All right."

            "Cool, c'mon."

            I walked into the group of basketball players. They were all taller than me. The closest to my height was Flying Frog. He leered at me.

            "Shorty's on my team," said Sleuth.

            "Good!" said Drago. "Now resume game."

            I jumped in where I could. I even got to shoot at the basket. I missed, which was no surprise. Drago was guarding the shot. He leapt up, knocking the ball away before it could go in. But he just didn't leap straight up; he leapt right towards me. We ended up in a heap on the ground.

            I struggled out from under him, wheezing painfully.

            "Oh sorry," grinned the wolf.

            "I bet."

            I played for a couple minutes more, but quit after being knocked around. I returned to my place on the floor, but before I could sit, Marshe came by.

            "Looks like you're getting to be buddy-buddy with them."

            "Not really," I said.

            "Right. Looks like it."

            "You know what they say about looks."

            "Can be deceiving, right."

            I raised an eyebrow, almost incredulous that he knew something; even if it was a cliché.

            "They all like you," he said. "It was because of you they tried the breakout, isn't it?"

            "No," I said. "It wasn't even my idea."

            "Hmmm, why don't I believe you?"

            "You can believe what you want."

            "Even if it wasn't your idea, they still did it 'cause of you. You're the one who did those two escapes in a row."

            I shrugged.

            "You ain't planning anything else, are you?"

            "No. And if I were, I wouldn't tell you," I scoffed.

            "Well, if I catch you doing anything, I'll bust that cute little ass of yours." He suddenly slapped me on the aforementioned place.

            "Don't touch me!" I flared up with indignatiy. He thought it was funny; chuckling and snorting.

            "You're such a freak."

            "Awww, was that a compliment?" He laughed and shoved me.

            Dinner always seemed to be some sort of goop. It came in different colors. Some colors were better than others. The gray goop was the worst. The orangish-brown goop, despite its disgusting color, was the best. I think it was some sort of meat and carrots mixed and smashed together. It was like eating baby food again.

            Today it was the orangish-brown goop. I stared down at the glob the cook slapped onto my plate, and my mouth actually watered. It was hot today. How considerate of the cooks. Cold goop was disgusting, no matter what color.

            I headed towards the table. Marshe was suddenly in my way. I bumped into him, and he bumped back, sending me crashing to the floor. The goop spilled onto me.

            "SHIT!"

            "Oh, I'm so sorry," said Marshe. He leapt up and got a washcloth and returned. I expected him to hand it to me, but he started to wipe me off.

            "I can do it," I protested, and then let out a shriek as his hand squeezed my lap. "GET OFF ME!" I screamed, and kicked him square in the face.

            He moved back, a dumb grin on his face. I grabbed the tray up and would've smashed the grin right off his face, but then I felt something jab me between the shoulderblades. I turned my head and saw Tattle standing there out of the corner of my eye. He had his taser on me.

            I dropped the tray instantly and tensed up, waiting for the shock.

            "No, Tattle, I got it," said Marshe.   

            Tattle stepped back, reluctantly.

            Marshe stood up and brushed himself off. Then he reached down and pulled me to my feet. I stared down at the spilt foot mournfully. The cooks did not give seconds.

            Once we were back in the cells, I changed my uniform. As I zipped up, Drago tossed something through the bars onto my bed. I examined it. It was one of the hard rolls we get with dinner.

            "Thanks," I said.

            He shrugged.

            "Marshe is such a goddamn pain in the ass. He bumped me on purpose. He was bothering me in the exercise room too."

            Flying Frog 'oohed'. "He's targeting you!"

            I gnawed on the roll. Hard rolls WERE hard.

            "He must want yer ass," said Drago. "But ya'd like that, wouldn't ya?"

            I flopped down on the bed. "For the last time, I am not gay."

            "Why should I believe ya?"

            I bit off a piece of the roll. "Why do you think I'm gay? I haven't done anything to make you think that."

            "Ya don't like porn."

            "So what?"

            "Look at ya, man. Yer skinny, yer short."

            "That makes me gay?"

            "Look at yer face. You have girly eyes, man. They're so perty and blue, and no straight guy has eyelashes that long."

            I stared at my reflection in the side of my metal nighttable. I always thought my eyes were my best feature.

            "It's not like I wear makeup. They're naturally like that."

            "Yer just naturally gay."

            "Shut up, Drago. I'm tired of it. Stop calling me gay. I'm not gay."

            "Ya've gotten pussy?"

            I scowled.

            "C'mon, tell me."

            "Why do you say that...that word? Why can't you just say 'woman'? A woman?"

            "Ooh, so now he's a feminist!"

            "No...but I have respect for other people!" I snapped. As soon as the sentence came out of my mouth, I knew it was a lie. Me? Respect other people? Maybe outwardly, because I had to, or I'd get hurt.

            "Ya don't respect anybody," scoffed the wolf. "Don't give me that bull."

            I set the roll down and rubbed my forehead. "Fine. But I do know that a woman is more than just one body part. You act like women exist just for you..."

            "...to fuck," the wolf interjected. "'Cause it's true. What else are they good for? They're weak. They're dumb. They're afraid of everythan'."

            "That's why your girlfriend beat the crap out of you, and got you put in prison, right? Because she's so stupid and weak?"

            The wolf clenched his fist and came close to the bars separating his cell from mine. "Ya shut up."

            "Or else what?" I whipped the half-eaten roll at him. It hit him in the face, making him angrier. He reached his arm through, struggling to grab me.

            I leaned almost within his reach to taunt him. His fingertips brushed the air right in front of me, but he still couldn't touch me.

            He withdrew his arm and picked up the roll. He threw it back at me, but it missed and hit the wall. Flying Frog reached through and nabbed it off my floor.

            He threw it back at Drago, but it went through the bars and somewhere down the hallway.

            "Oh dern it," he said. "I wanted to play catch."

            "Play with yerself, instead," growled Drago.

            The frog stuck out his tongue.

            I picked up one of my books and read for a while.

            Later, I leaned against the wall, thinking. There was always plenty of time to think around here.

            So Drago thinks women are sex toys. That's not a big surprise, considering his magazines and whatnot. Me...I don't think that. I've seen that women can be just as strong as men, even stronger sometimes. Stronger than me, by far. But then, everybody's stronger than me.

            I knock myself down all the time. I don't know why. Everybody else does. Maybe that's why. It's what I'm used to, at any rate. My whole life, I've never been taken seriously. It's my appearance, I suppose. Everything's appearance though, isn't it? A pretty girl's always going to get farther than an ugly one, even if she's dumber than the proverbial post, and the ugly one's a genius. That's how it was with me, I suppose.

            I'm not stupid. I could've done something with my life. But I chose the wrong route. I thought it was right. I didn't know Julian was going to turn out to be a crackpot. But there's no use whining about it now. I can't change the past. Not unless I get a hold of those timestones...but even then, I don't know if I would. Because if I get out of this jail, maybe I'll be able to do something worthwhile.

            But back to my initial topic: women. I'm not a...a what's the word...ah yes. Chauvinist. I'm not one of them. I don't think women are stupid or weak. It's quite the opposite, really. Maybe they're smarter than men. Some of them, anyway. But I'm not like those men. I don't give in to feelings. Besides, I don't have the emotional pattern of most men anyway...or even most human beings. I don't care about things like they do. I don't care about anything.

            It's hard to care anymore. It doesn't seem like I'm going to get out of here. All my dreams, delusional as they were, are shattered. I have really nothing left.

            Something whispered in my mind, but I couldn't make it out. So I shrugged it off.

            The lights went out, and I checked my watch. It was bedtime. I slid under the covers and fell asleep.

            I woke up later that night. It was kind of chilly, and I clutched my blanket closer. I heard a faint groaning.

            I turned my head as sleep-like as I could. I could just see Drago out of the corner of my eye. He was moaning very softly, holding a magazine in one hand. His back was to me, so I raised my head up to watch.

            He was masturbating, holy GOD!! I bit my lip to keep from laughing. I could see his huge fist moving up and down, and he groaned again.

            "Oh man, baby. I got ya, I'd fuckin' oooh!" He bucked his hips up a little, making his cot creak loudly.

            I couldn't help it. I snickered. He turned around, holding a rather big body part in his hand.

            "What the fuck ya starin' at, cueball? I knew ya was gay."

            I didn't say anything, just laughed. He walked over to my cell, shoving his erection through the bars. "C'mon cueball...why don't ya give it a suck? I know ya like it."

            I picked up the magazine off the floor. He watched me. Then I hurled it.  It struck him right square in the crotch. He leaped back, shrieking.

            "YA LITTLE FUCKER!!"

            I kept laughing.

            "What the hell is all this racket?" Marshe appeared in the hallway, shining his flashlight into our cells. The light stopped on Drago's crotch.

            "You sure got a big'un," said the guard. Then his light shone onto me, glaring in my eyes. "Oh...so that's how it is, eh? You like to give head, don't ya, Sniv'?"

            I moved out of his beam, but he moved it after me. "Stop it," I said. He shone the light on the floor instead.

            I heard the zip-zip of a zipper lowering. "You'd give me head, wouldn't you?" Marshe’s voice was low and gravelly.

            "You're out of your mind," I said.

            "C'mon Sniv'." The guard's voice was almost desperate.

            "NO."

            I heard the jingle of keys next. He was opening my cell! I felt my heart flutter violently in my chest. Oh God...he's gonna force me...he's gonna...

            My fists clenched, my muscles tensed up. I was going to have to fight.

            He came into the cell and closed it behind him. I saw his eyes shining strangely, his breath coming in pants. I backed away.

            Drago crossed his arms and watched.

Marshe grabbed at me, and shoved me to the floor. "Do it and I won't hurt you," he said.

            I punched him. Right in the nuts. He stumbled backwards, groaning. I tried to bolt for the door, because it wasn't locked, but he grabbed me by the back of the shirt. He threw me against the wall.

            "You've got such a cute ass," he said. "It's a shame to let it go to waste."

            "YOU SICK BASTARD!!!" I punched as hard as I could, catching him right in the jaw. He grunted and stumbled. I felt tears in my eyes; my knuckles felt busted. 

            But I didn't pause to check. I pushed him, sending him toppling to the floor. Before he could move, I stomped down hard on his crotch. He squealed. I ran for the door, but his hand closed around my ankle. I screamed and kicked with my free foot. Suddenly, a white hand reached past my captured foot, and grabbed Marshe by the wrist. The white hand tightened, and Marshe screamed. I heard a crack. Broken bones?

            I looked over. Drago had his arm thrust through the bars. He caught my eye and nodded. I pulled my foot free. But before I could get anywhere, another guard came running down the hall.

            "Cruds," he said, his flashlight shining over me and the prone Marshe. "What's happening here?!"

            "Get him out," I growled. "GET HIM OUT!!"

            The guard nodded, looking a bit shocked. But he wasn't stupid. He cuffed my hand to the bars before coming in. Then he dragged Marshe out, uncuffed me, and locked the door.

            I sank down onto the bed, feeling sick. The adrelinin was fading from my veins. Realization hit me...I could've been molested...even...even raped. 

            I curled up, shaking in a sudden attack of panic. I heard Drago snort and his bed creak as he sat down, but I ignored it all.

            I did not have pleasant dreams that night.

Chapter 10: Bustin' Ass and Bustin' Out

You treated me like I'm a worthless piece of shit

You think that you're in control but you make me sick

I want to watch you suffer

The way that you made me suffer

I want to fuck up everything you've ever loved

---Stabbing Westward "The thing I hate"

             Nack and the rest of the crew at the breakfast table stared at my pale face. I was huddled down in my seat, my food untouched before me. I felt sick.

            "What's yer problem?" asked Sleuth. "And what was all that screaming last night?"

            Drago growled. "We need to get ridda Marshe. The fucker tried to grope cueball last night."

            "He tried to bang him, actually," said Flying Frog.

            "Nasty," said Nack.

            "Did he?" Ernie asked me.

            "No," I muttered.

            "Guess he ain't gay," said Ernie. "Or maybe Marshe just ain't his type."

            I covered my eyes with my hand. "Stop talking about it."

            "Hey, this is prison, man," said Flying Frog. "Shit like this happens. At least none of us ever pulled the 'you dropped the soap' shit."

            "Oh, thank you very much." I felt a little better. No one was teasing me. They all seemed a bit angry, but not at me. At Marshe.

            He wasn't anywhere in sight. I don't know where he was. Drago told me after the other guard showed up, Marshe and somebody else had gotten into a huge argument. 'It was so damn loud that no one could sleep,' the wolf had growled. Of course, I hadn't heard any of it. I was too busy having hysterics.

            Robotnik and Packbell had never been nice to me. I'd gotten beaten in every way imaginable. Packbell was a pervert, but even he had never attempted anything like that on me. I was a nervous wreck now. If Marshe showed his face, I knew I was going to either puke or attack him.

            "Hey, if he messes with ya again, we'll help ya," said Nack.

            "Yeah," said Sleuth. "If we get him alone, we'll wreck his ass."

            Sure, you will, I thought. "Thanks," I said aloud.

            It was shower day, but I didn't take one. I stayed in the locker room. Marshe wasn't there. None of the guards said anything. They all looked at me with slightly sympathetic eyes, and let me stay in my dirty old clothes, while everybody else showered.

            For the first time, I felt uneasy in the cell. I felt trapped. Stupid, I am trapped. I've always been trapped. But for some reason, I'd always felt safe in this cell. Safe, warm, unharmed. But now that illusion was broken.

            Drago was combing out his wet headfur with a small yellow comb. Some of the teeth were broken, from all the times the wolf had carelessly tossed the comb onto the floor, and then later accidentally stepped on it.

            He was humming a tune, and looked over at me. "Don't mind me askin', cueball, but how come yer so damn...smooth?"

            It was raining out and fog was rolling down the hallway. It was eerie in a way, and also cold. I shivered, and not just from the chill.

            Drago snorted over in his cell. "Well?"

            "Well, what?" I raised my eyes to glare at him.

            "How come ya don't have any hair?"

            "Why does everybody ask me that?" I whined. It was probably one of the most irritating questions I got asked, besides the 'how come yer so short', 'or how come yer so ugly', 'how come yer such a wimp'.

            "Don't get so huffy 'bout it. It's just a conversation starter."

            "Well, fine," I sighed. "There is actually somewhat of a story behind this one."

            I used to have beautiful hair. I lost all my body hair before I could really fully develop it. But the hair on my head was wonderful. It was different lengths, the longest strands reaching about to the base of my neck. It was different shades of tan, from pale gold to dark chocolate brown. It was very thick, but at the same time very soft and silky...like feathers.

            Well...it was sometime after the coup, and Julian, dubbed now as Robotnik, had cooked up this new experiment. It was this liquid crap...he'd already tried it on some of the prisoners we had. It made them stronger or something. He said it was 'incredible'!

            Well of course, he wanted to test it on me next.

            "Come here, Snively!" he called. We were in the Death Egg, although it wasn't really the Death Egg then. It was strange looking, because it still had a lot of the decorations from the castle, and the newer metal stuff that the robots were building.

            I trotted down the hallways.

            "What is it, Uncle...er...sir?"

            There was a big tub of greenish liquid sitting in the center of the room. There was white steam rising from it. I couldn't tell if it was from the liquid being hot, or a chemical reaction with the metal of the tub or the air. But it was a thoroughly unpleasant looking substance.

            "What is it?" I asked again.

            "It's the liquid I've been working on," he chortled. "I've already tested it on several Mobian prisoners. It made them incredibly strong and even telekinetic! Of course...I had to kill them afterwards..."

            "Yes, and?" I asked politely. I was so damn naïve back then. I didn't think he would ever hurt me. He'd startled me with that 'call me sir, from now on,' thing, but I never thought he'd get violent...

            "And now I wish to test it on a human! If it works, then I'll use it on myself!"

            "We don't have any human prisoners, sir." I had to look up to see him, and something in his eyes made me take a step away. The way he was staring at me... "Don't even think about it," I said indignantly. "I'm not touching that shit."

            "Such language for such a young child," he said.

            I was pretty young then, about fourteen...but living with my father and his abuse, plus schoolyard talk, really assured that I would have an extended er...vocabulary.

            "If you think I'm touching that shit, then you're fucking nuts," I said.

            "The filth you've picked up from your father," he said, shaking his head somewhat sadly. "Now, be a good lad and do as I say." He held out a towel to me. I guess I was supposed to get the liquid all over my body, so it could soak in or something, but there was no way I was stripping in front of him...or anyone for that matter.

            "No," I said.

            "Do it," he said. Nowadays, I would recognize that low growl and heed the warning of punishment...but like I said, I was naïve in those days. Nowadays, I wouldn't dare cuss at him, unless I was extremely angry or looking for a beating or in a drunken stupor.

            "Snively, you will test that liquid."

            "No, I won't."

            "YOU WILL!" He suddenly screamed and he raised his fist. I cringed a little, because I had been beaten before and I knew anger when I saw it!

            "I WON'T!" I cried back, but my voice trembled a little.

            I was a bit shocked when he DID hit me, because I didn't really expect it. His fist suddenly shot out and connected with my face. He didn't even hit hard, now that I think back. I didn't even bruise from it.

            But it was the first time he'd struck me...and I was as shocked as a virgin on their first night. DAMN! It didn't hurt so much as shock. I stumbled backwards, then regained my balance and just stared at him. He was breathing deeper and his eyes were glowing, which creeped me out.

            So I obeyed his little whim, and ended up sitting miserably in the tub with my knees drawn up to my bare chest.

            He poured some of the liquid over me with a metal cup. Some of it splattered in my hair, which I didn't like, because it ran into my eyes and stung bad.

            "Are you feeling stronger?" he asked.

            "No, I feel like I'm sitting in a tub of green goop in my underwear," I snapped.

            He shook his head. "We really must change that attitude, dear boy," he whispered.

            I was about to spit out a nasty comment, but then I raised my arm out of the liquid to itch it. I noticed that the fine downy hairs on my arm were literally dissolving before my eyes. I screamed.

            I leapt out of the tub and raced from the room, my wet feet slipping all over the metal floors. I ran to the nearest bathroom, turned on the sink, and stuck my head in the basin. I vigorously scrubbed the goop out of my hair.

            Water streamed into my eyes. Tentatively I combed my fingers through it.

            I was still howling when Robotnik came into the bathroom.

            "Snively," he said. "You look ridiculous."

            I must admit, I did look rather stupid. I was standing in my underwear, dripping wet with green liquid, but I didn't care. I was frantic. There were long hairs in the sink. Long hairs woven through my fingers. Long hairs falling from my scalp!

            "It's ruining my hair!!" I wailed.

            "Hmmm...it must not work on humans," he mumbled and looked disappointed.

            The stupid bastard. He didn't care. "WHAT ABOUT MY HAIR!?" I screamed.

            "Your hair?" He looked at me shrewdly. "You only got a tiny amount in your hair...you shouldn't lose it all."

            He was right. I didn't lose it all, but my beautiful mop was considerably thinned out. I felt old. I almost expected to see gray hairs every time I glanced in the mirror.

            My poor poor hair. It lost its sheen, and became duller looking. Even the colors faded a bit, until it was just regular old tan. It was depressing. I had to be so careful with it, because the roots had become very loose. A hard tug with a comb would pull out a big chunk.

            And all body hair I had was completely gone. My skin was like a newborn babies...completely smooth. Eventually, the fine hairs came back. But nothing else did.

            So it was quite inevitable that I would lose it the day I met Sonic. We had launched a large ship to destroy the forest. It seemed stupid and pointless to me, but I was drinking a lot then. I had discovered a nice store of alcohol in the king's kitchen, and that made me pretty happy.

            I don't know how the damn hedgehog did it. But it was him. The same Sonic. He was there that day...both of him. I guess he did some sort of time travelling trick.

             One of our prisoners of the coup was Sir Charles' nephew, Sonic the hedgehog...aged five. The day I lost my hair, I met Sonic the hedgehog...aged sixteen. They were both there, at the same time. Which is disturbing now that I think about it. But I've heard myths...about ancient Time Stones. Somehow, he must have gotten them.

            But I didn't even know the hedgehog back then.

            So...it was the day we had just launched the destroyer, and I wandered into the command room. I had just drank some good hard whiskey and was starting to feel it, but I was relatively clear-headed at the moment.

            There was a cocky-looking blue hedgehog and a girl who looked suspiciously like the baby princess coming out of the room. They halted when they saw me.

            "Just who are you?" I demanded.

            "What's up, Snide-ly?" asked the hedgehog.

            The little bastard. I felt like smacking him, but I remained as calm as possible. "It's Snively," I corrected. But how had he even know my name? Or at least one of my rude nicknames... But it didn't matter. They were trespassers.

            I gave him my coldest glare. "Nice hair," he said. And he actually leaned over and touched my hair! I jumped back...God nothing irritates me more than people touching me. It's so damn intrusive. What gives them the right...?

            He laughed.

            Then I remembered where I'd seen him. He was an escapee from earlier that day! I was wearing this nifty little com watch, and I called for some SWATs to come catch the little blue bastard.

            The girl, who hadn't spoken all this time, said, "Let's go, Sonic!" in this bitchy tone which I didn't care for...reminded me of my math teacher, who I had hated enough to want to kill...but that was beside the point. They were getting away.

            I yelled at them to stop, but it was rather pathetic attempt, because they ignored me and took off. I mean took off!! The hedgehog revved up and blasted down the hallway with the girl hanging onto his arm. He created a strong wind, which nearly pulled me off my feet. I felt a stinging all over my head and howled.

            When I looked down, I saw there was brown stuff strewn all over the hallway.

            "What the hell?" I crouched down. OH GOD. It was hair. I reached up to feel my head...and my hand encountered smooth bare skin.

            "NOOOOOOO!!!!!"

            I went a little berserk then...

            "So that's how it happened, eh? That's quite a story."

            "Yeah. It rocks!" said Flying Frog.

            "Rocks? It's terrible!" I said.

            Flying Frog eyed me with his bulging eyes. I scowled. He was just so...so damn ugly. His face made me even more bad-tempered than usual. I don't know why. Maybe because Robotnik was ugly too.

            "It rocks, man, because your hair was all loose, and it just kinda blew away on the wind...like dandelion fluff or something. It's such a tripping visual, man. I can see it."

             "Yeah...it's real poetic," said Drago.

            I plopped back down on the bed, and half-heartedly opened the magazine. A raccoon girl, splayed out on silken cushions, smiled back at me. Since most Mobians have fur covering their privates, these girls were actually shaved around the nipples and down below... It looked incredibly stupid to me. I threw the magazine across the floor in a sudden fit of anger.

            Drago, who was also reading a magazine, glanced up. "Hey, don't throw that around!"

            I got up and kicked the magazine. It hit the wall, and slid down.

            "Stop fighting," said Flying Frog. "You two are always fighting."

            "Cueball's kickin' my nudies," said Drago. "Them's good nudies."

            "They look STUPID!!" I said.

            "They're hot."

            "They look fake and ugly. If they were Devon..." I shut my mouth so abruptly my tongue got caught between my teeth. Devon? How'd her name pop in there?

            "Devon, eh? Is that a guy Devon or girl Devon?"

            "A girl, of course," I said.

            "Who's she? Some kind of girl-friend?"

            "No..."

            "She's somethan', I can tell, the way ya said it. She's somethan' all right."

            "She's my cousin," I said.

            "No."

            "Yes, she is."

            "Did ya fuck her?"

            "NO!"

            Drago snickered a bit. "Don't git so defensive. It was just a simple question."

            "The way he answered, ya think something did happen," said Flying Frog.

            "No kiddin'." Drago nodded vigorously. "Ya did screw her, didn't ya?"

            "NO! NO I didn't touch her! I've never touched her."

            "Sure. Ya did her."

            "No! I HATE HER!!!" I screamed. "I hate her..."

            "Well, there's a big surprise!" said Flying Frog. "Snively hating someone; that's just silly!."

            "Shut up," I said. "Both of you, just shut up."

            I pulled the covers over my head and tried to sleep. I had a feeling I was going to dream about ole fire-hair.

            Sometimes it sucks to be right.

            Sleeping? Yes. I was asleep. Maybe. I don't know. Everything seems so vivid, and real. I can smell, and hear. I can feel the ground under my feet.

            I'm running? It seems it. My lungs feel tired and hot, my breath is whistling in through my teeth.

            Ahead of me runs a girl, long orange/red hair flowing behind her. Devon!

            "Devon! Stop!"

            She stops and turns around. I catch up to her. "What are you doing here? Where are we?"

            "Hi, Snively!" She sounds happy. "Wow, didn't expect to see you out here." She shuffles her feet.  "You won't like this, but I'm about to help the Freedom Fighters wreck one of Uncy's new toys."

            I didn't like it. Devon with the Freedom Fighters. It was stupid. But at least she was safe with them. "Be careful," I say.

            "Sniv'," she begins, and her eyebrows slope downwards and her eyes get anxious. "Come with us. Please. I want you to come with us."

            "No. I'm not leaving."

            "But Robotnik he..."

            "Stop it, Devon. You know I'm not leaving Robotropolis. That's final."

            "But why?!" She bursts out. Her voice is so anguished that I feel myself start to tremble. "Why?! Please, I'm begging you. I love..."

            "NO!" I back away. Oh God, I can't handle hearing it. No... I can't hear it. It screws me up. I can't think, I can't reason, NO! It's impossible, no one can love me. No one. I can't hear it, because I know it's not true, and I just can't live with false words.

            I hear the clanking of SWAT feet. "Devon, you'd better go."

            "NO!" She nearly screams it. "I AM NOT LEAVING WITHOUT YOU!!!"

            "Go!" I shove her, but she grabs my arm and holds on. I try to pry her off. "Devon!"

            The SWAT rounds the corner. "HALT, Intruder."

            "Let go, Devon!!! It'll shoot you!!"

            "No no no!!! Not until you say yes!"

            The SWAT raises its arm.

            "Devon please let go!"

            The red laser on its wrist powers up.

            "Devon, NO!"

            The shot is fired.

            "Ohhhhh." She sinks down. I see her hand flutter at her heart, her bleeding heart.

            "Devon oh God."

             "Snively." Her voice is raspy. She reaches up her hand, the fingertips smeared with blood, to touch my cheek.

            "Devon...hang on. I'll get you to the infirmary." I go to pick her up, but her hand clutches my shoulder with the last of her strength.

            "No...It's too late."

            "Devon, don't talk."

            "Ssssh. Please...just listen...you always pushed my love away, you don't believe it. But it's true. I love you. I love you even if you never loved me back." Her eyes fill with tears, and I know her heart is hurting, and not from the laser blast.

            I bite my lip and clutch her hand. "Devon..."

            The truth will set you free

            "...I..."

            The truth will set HER free

            "...I...I..."

            SAY IT!!!

            "...I l...o...ve...you Devon."

            Her eyes are shimmering with tears, and blood pulsing steadily from her heart-wound. But her lips curve up into a smile. "I knew it," she whispers. "I knew it..." Her eyelashes flutter, her hand clutching my shoulder weakens and drops to the ground.

            I'm afraid, Devon. Afraid if you go, nobody else will ever care about me. That's selfish. God, how selfish.

            The blood flow is slower now, the red liquid spread out around her. She's almost gone...

            "DEVON!!!"

            Her eyes close, her muscles relax.

            "Devon! NO! Oh God Devon don't leave me. PLEASE DON'T LEAVE ME, DON'T LEAVE ME!!!"

            "NOOO!" I jerked awake with a cry. It was nighttime.

            I have to get out. I have to get out and find Devon and tell her...

            I rubbed my forehead wearily. Tell her what? Tell her I love her? STUPID!! I don't love her!

            I grabbed hold of the bars and pulled at them, but of course they didn't budge. I felt this inexplicable urge...so strong it made me crazy...to find her. To grab her hand...speak to her. DEVON!!! She was the only one...

            I shuddered with a sudden chill. It's scary knowing there's only one in the whole entire world, universe even, who loves you. Loves you unconditionally and eternally. It's scary knowing that if they die, then you're all alone.

            Stop it, stop!! Even if it were true (which it isn't, it can't be), I could never tell Devon I loved her to her face. I couldn't handle her reaction. I can't handle her love. It's too intense.

            But still, I had to get out of this godforsaken prison. Being confined in this small space...it was making me restless. Funny, I never felt this restless before. But after what Marshe did...I can't take it. Besides, I certainly can't rule over Robotropolis in here.

            The next day all I could think of was the hovercraft that I'd seen during my second escape. I remember how they were lined up side by side, their gray metallic sides reflecting one another. They were so beautiful in my mind's eye.

            I was leaning against the bars, my hands hanging through. Marshe came by.

            "Want out?" He laughed snidely and swung his club at my hands. I pulled them back just in time. The club smashed against the bars hard, and I knew that would've probably broken a finger or two if it'd hit me.

            "Bastard," I said, glaring at him. He was too close to me. I scooted away and sat on my bed, eyeing him warily.

            Then my thoughts returned to the hovercraft. I had to get into one. I had to escape again and get into one and get the hell out of here. None of these guards could match me in flying. I'd lose them in a heartbeat. Then it'd be back to Robotropolis. And Mobius would be mine.

            I'm deluded, I know. I would never rule forever, but having a taste of power is worth the defeat. And unlike Robotnik, if I caught those Freedom Fighters, I'd kill them straight off. Forget roboticizing them, forget using them for bait, forget even gloating over them. I'd shoot them all personally, press that gun right against their skulls and shoot them, point blank. There would be no doubts then. They'd be dead.

            Marshe came back about ten minutes later. "Ready for your potty-break, Sniv-meister?"

            My eyes widened noticeably and I pressed myself against the wall.

            He smiled and opened the cell. He had to drag me out, and pull me, struggling, down the hallway.

            We reached the bathroom. I glanced around. We were alone.

The smile slipped off Marshe's face, just like it was glued, and the glue had suddenly lost its hold.

            "Because of you, I'm getting sent away. This job paid good." He rubbed at his wrist, which was set in a splint. I guess Drago had done some damage to him. Good.

            I was standing as far away from him as I could get. "You're surprised, because...?"

            Marshe suddenly lunged at me. I darted around him. He grabbed the back of my uniform. I wrenched away, and stumbled against the toilet.

            "I'm gonna get you this time," he growled.

            I grabbed the toilet cover. The heavy porcelain felt good in my hands. I whirled around, and charged Marshe. I slammed him with my shoulder. He stumbled and I let him have it.

            He fell to the ground, but I wasn't finished.

            "I'LL KILL YOU!" I shrieked, suddenly furious. I hit him with the cover before he could regain his senses. Then I hit him again and again. 

            The porcelain shattered as I brought it down the fifth time. The pieces crumbled around his head, smeared with blood. I stood up, panting.

            His skull was smashed in.

            I knelt and quickly searched him, taking his keyring and pistol.

            "YESS!" I couldn't help exclaiming. Then I shut up and crept back out into the hallway. There were no guards around.

            I had to go past my cell.

            Drago was reading in bed.

            "Hey," I said.

            He looked up. His eyes widened. "How the hell ya get out there?!"

            I held up the keyring. "You want out?"

            "YES!"

            "Sshhh," I hissed. I unlocked his cell with trembling hands; I was so nervous. If another guard should come by... Wait. I have a gun.

            Drago shoved the door open. "Good job, cueball," he said.

            I shrugged.

            Flying Frog jerked awake and looked at us with groggy eyes. "Whoa man, how'd you two get out there?"

            "Be quiet," I hissed. "You want the guards to hear?"

            "Nah, but you can let me out."

            I did. He sprang out, bouncing all over the hallway. I shook my head. Stupid moron. But if the guards should come by, Drago was a big guy. He could hold them off. I knew one measly little pistol couldn't hold off a crew of guards.

            "Should we free everyone?" asked Drago.

            "No," I said.

            "Yes," said Flying Frog.

            "Fine," I said, thinking the more back-up I had, the better.

            So we sprung some of the others.  They were all bigger than me, which made me slightly nervous, but they seemed content to follow me. At least for now. I wasn't sure if I was going to be with them long...if I could, I'd ditch them in this hellhole and take off in that hovercraft myself. I mean, what did I owe them...?

            I didn't even bother to hurry after that. Some of my crew were huge, bigger than three guards put together! I walked leisurely down the hall and stomped down the steps.

            Tattle came running at the sound of our feet, and his mouth gaped open. Then he screamed, "JAILBREAK! JAILBREAK!"

            I heard the pounding of guard's feet, and soon we were surrounded by them. Some of them had guns, some had tasers. I groaned. Great. Now we'd get herded back into our cells, and I'd get solitary or electroshocked again.

            But my crew wasn't wimpy, like me. They didn't try and run, which would have been useless, instead they charged the guards. I saw Drago's fist connect with a young guard's face, and heard the crack as his jaw broke, and a few teeth hit the ground. The other escapees swarmed around me, and all was chaos!

            I saw guards get taken down, heard their cries as they got brutally beaten, saw my crew get zapped and one shot. Then I got the hell out of there. I went down the hallway I'd gone down before, but this time the window was closed. I couldn't get the lock open. SHIT!

            I looked around, but there was nothing to bash at the window. So I threw myself at it. I struck it hard and bounced off. "OW! God!" My shoulder ached.

            I heard footsteps and tensed.

            It was Tattle.

            "Trying to escape, AGAIN?" he growled. In his tan hand was a club.

            I backed away.

            He came towards me.

            Desperately, I flung myself at the window again, but the glass didn't budge. It wasn't breaking.

            Tattle was closer. He swung the club. I was knocked to my knees, my shoulder aching even more. He swung again. I was on my stomach now, stars flashing before my eyes. My head screamed in pain.

            I heard the club whistle through the air, and felt it impact on my back. I whimpered and squirmed away. He kicked me over onto my back, and dropped the club. With his eyes on me, he drew the taser from his belt.

            "NO!"

            He flicked the switch on and I saw blue electricity crackle on the end of the long black rod. He snickered.

            I tried to wiggle away, but he pressed his foot on my stomach, holding me in place. Then he brought the taser down, waving it in front of my face.

            "Please...don't..."

            The taser came closer, dazzling my vision with electric blue...I could already smell my burnt skin...closer now...I felt the heat against my face, and then I kicked him.

            He was only standing on one foot and he was knocked off balance. He fell on top of me, his knee hitting me hard in the face, his upper body thumping heavily on the floor behind me. I felt blood oozing from my nose, and I sneezed. Then I shoved his leg off me and crawled to my feet.

            "You ain't goin' anywhere," he snarled, his hand clamping around my ankle. I kicked and struggled, but he held tight. I tried to pull away, but only ended up dragging him a few feet. Laying on his stomach, he reached for the taser with his free hand. 

            "Let GO!" I slammed my booted foot into his face, and heard a faint crack. He cussed loudly, and I saw his nose was a little mashed; broken! I kicked him again. This time my boot caught him in the eye, and I felt his fingers loosen. I pulled away hard, and was free!

            I ran like hell.

            I reentered the room of chaos, and was a bit surprised to see my team was winning! Some of the guards looked dead. Others were still fighting. Fighting hard now, like animals...because they knew this was going the wrong way.

I heard the whine of some weapon powering up, and I glanced to the top of the stairs. A guard was there, wielding a huge gun. I saw his finger tighten.

            "No, you don't," I hissed. Even if I left the crew, I wasn't going to let a guard win. I aimed my pistol at him and pulled the trigger. He cried out, and fell forward, sliding down the stairs.

            I ran again. This time I went down another hallway.

            "Get that gun, there, Morrisey! GODDAMMIT, hurry it up!!!"

            "I goin', I goin', man, hold yer freakin' horses!"

            "C'mon, C'MON! They need help!"

            I approached the opened doorway cautiously. I tried to sneak past. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a few guards arming themselves with some heavy artillery. One glanced over.

            "SHIT! Get him!"

            Shit indeed. I took off...them right on my heels. One of them was fast. He caught up with me, hooking his arm around my neck and yanking me right off my feet in midstride.

            "Uhhh...let go! You bastard, let go!"

            He did. He let go and slammed me into a wall. I looked up to see his gun aimed down at me.

            "Go on, you guys, Go help the others."

            The other guards ran off.

            He looked down at me, with a wicked smile. "I gotta subdue this one."

            I closed my eyes. Why, oh why, did everyone like to hurt me? It seemed to bring the gentlest creature some pleasure to see me in pain. I guess I was just born to suffer...

            I reached for my gun, ever so slowly. But his foot suddenly kicked my hand, sending the gun spinning down the hallway. Then he pressed his gun up against my shoulder. His finger jerked back, and I screamed. He chuckled as I writhed in pain.

            My shoulder...I felt the small hole through it. It was neat, cauterized by the laser beam, but that didn't make it any less painful.

            I saw him smiling...felt the pain...and lost it. I kicked out, tripping him. Then I was on my feet, and fighting with him. He tried to fend off my punches, but I was going all out. My knuckles hurt...I wasn't used to punching things...but this was the second guard with a broken nose!

            He reeled back, yelping. I grabbed his gun. He held on, pressing his hand against my head, trying to force me away.

            I kneed him hard in the nuts, and he stumbled away. I stumbled back too, holding the gun in my hands. I quickly changed my grip on it and aimed it at him.

            "You don't have the balls," he sneered.

            "No..." I pulled the trigger.

            He screamed and howled, the tendons in his neck standing out through his fur. His hands clutched between his legs frantically.

            I laughed. "...YOU don't have the balls."

            Then I ran like hell again.

            I came to another window. This time I shot a few holes through it, and then bashed against it with my uninjured shoulder. The glass gave, shattering outwards. A few shards cut my head, and I blinked away blood. I climbed out, cutting my hand in the process. "Damn."

            This side of the building was very close to the cliff edge. There was only about two feet of ground between me and the edge of the cliff...and I was pressed up against the building!

            "It's...it's plenty of room," I cooed to myself, but still my stomach clenched up and my legs shook. The gun had a strap, so I hung it over my shoulder, leaving my hands free. With one hand against the wall, I crept towards the corner of the building.

            My eyes caught sight of the ocean below...boiling and smashing against small outcroppings of rock like some furious beast. My stomach rebelled, and I leaned against the building, closing my eyes.

            "Don't puke. Don't puke. Don't..."

            It was hard to breathe; one nostril was clogged with dried blood. I heard the ocean...so far below...felt the air as it tugged at me...

            I puked.

            I must have passed out as well, because I woke to find myself staring at something concrete. At first I thought I was back in my cell. I rolled over lazily, and then howled at the sight of ocean and rocks below. I sat up, scrabbling backwards against the building. My mouth tasted foul, and I spat a few times, then got shakily to my feet.

            I continued my timid walk along the building and cliff's edge, until I reached the corner. I turned it, and found that this side had much more space. And hovercrafts...

            They were lined up on the clifftop's rusty red-brown surface. They sparkled like a promise...

            ...of freedom, perhaps? Or the leadership of Robotropolis...? The death of those Freedom Fighters...?

            "Who cares?" I mumbled. "I'm outta here." I made a mad dash towards them, even though it seemed no one was around.

            I was next to one. Actually touching it. My hands ran over the surface almost reverently. I could've kissed that aircraft!

            I didn't; I made my way around to the door of the craft, and was reaching my hand towards the touchpad that would open it.

            "HEY SNIVELY!!"

            I nearly jumped out of my skin. I turned to see Drago and a few other inmates running towards me. Drago's teeth were shining.

            I slammed my hand against the touchpad and the doors slid open. I bolted inside, and reached for the controls. But a hand grabbed me by the collar, yanking me back.

            "Where ya goin',cueball? Ya weren't thinkin' of leavin' without us, eh?" Drago's tone was threatening, and his huge fist was clenched tightly.

            "No...no!" I squeaked. "I wasn't doing that! I was just afraid the guards were coming..."

            "Do we look like guards?" cackled Flying Frog, pushing past Drago and I. He hopped into the passenger seat. "Damn, anyone even know how to fly this junker?"

            "I do," I said, still being held off the ground by Drago. His fist, still clenched, was making me nervous.

            "Drago, put him down and let him fly." Sleuth came in, handing a cigarette and a pistol to the wolf. Drago snorted at me, but let me go. I settled into the pilot's seat, my eyes on the windshield. In it, I saw the reflection of my company. There was Drago and Sleuth, both of them lit up and puffing their cigarettes contently. The smoke made me wheeze. I saw Flying Frog, looking over the control panel in interest. Ernie was just walking in.

            There were a few others I didn't recognize as readily. I usually only paid attention to the people at my table.

             There was a huge gorilla, leaning up against the hovercraft wall, his arms raised lazily over his head. Next to him, a lanky hawk looked disgusted and inched away, pretending to gag. A lynx wearing dorky sneakers was yowling at me to 'start de plane, pal, c'mon let's go!', and Nack was talking to a creepy spider lady. She had six arms. Kind of kinky...wonder what she can do with those...

            My eyes rested on the last of my crew, and my eyes...they nearly popped out of my head. It was Warlord Kudos!!

            "Where'd you come from?"

            He scratched his beard as he eyed me. "I've been here! But Warlord Kudos will have his revenge!! They will be sorry!"

            I scowled. Somehow...I thought the guy would be more impressive, intellect-wise. But he seemed just as shallow as the rest of these clowns.

            Oh, and what are you? My mind-voice (which sounded suspiciously like Devon) taunted.

            Drago kicked my seat. "What the hell ya waitin' for, cueball?"

            I started the hovercraft and got us off the ground. The inmates seemed thrilled; whooping and jumping around.

            "STOP IT!" I said, because the hovercraft was tilting sharply to one side. "We have to be evenly balanced." I looked over my shoulder. "Kodos, you get on that side. No. THAT side. Gorilla..."

            "Sergeant Simian," the gorilla growled.

            "Sorry, Sergeant Simian, you get over on that side."

            The ape stood against the right wall, Kodos against the left. The others were crowded in the middle. Now the hovercraft was even again.

            "Hold on," I warned. They obeyed.

            We zoomed off the cliff and sped over the ocean. The inmates screamed and cheered. A small smile tugged at my mouth, and I gave in to it.

            Even if I did have these idiots with me...I was still going back to Robotropolis. I was going to finish what Robotnik started. Those little furry fools thought they were safe...they thought they were in the clear.

            Well, they were wrong.

            Dead wrong.

Chapter 11: Sweet Home, Robotropolis...

Hey, we touch

This place is so quiet

Sensing that storm...

---Peter Gabriel "Red Rain"

            Air traffic was minimum in the city. Robotropolis was a sprawling mass, and I parked our ride on the outskirts. I didn't know what the Freedom Fighters were doing to the place.

            We walked for a long time, and didn't encounter anybody.

            "Why'd we come here?" whined Flying Frog.

            "Because. I'm taking over."

            "Yeah, right."

            I looked over at him, narrowing my eyes. "This is my city, you understand? It's mine."

            A few hours later (yes, Robotropolis is a huge place), we were crouching near the middle of the city. Freedom Fighters were everywhere. There were ladders all around the statue of King Acorn. It was black with years of grime from the pollution, and eroded badly. But the animals insisted on scrubbing and chipping away the dirt.

            There were other changes going on. Some of them were cleaning out the old fountain. It must've been an older project, because they had the marble almost to its original shade of white.

            They weren't trying to get rid of the metal buildings, it seemed. Mobotropolis had been made out of mostly stone, all natural-like. Robotnik was the one who replaced everything with metal. He was obsessed with metal, robots, anything as cold as himself.

            They were painting over the metal instead. Even though I thought the whole robotic, metal thing was overdone, I was used to it, and I didn't appreciate the remodeling.

            "Look what they're doing to my city," I couldn't help complaining.

            Nobody said anything. I looked over my shoulder at them. They were just looking around. I wondered if they heard me, and I felt uneasy suddenly. Would they try to take the city from me? If I got it back, would they ease into the background, or would they try to get rid of me?

            I can't trust them. I'll get rid of them when I get back in power. I won't kill them, won't even roboticize them...but I'll send them away. Maybe even back to the prison if they get too troublesome.

            I clenched my fingers on the pile of scrap we were hiding behind. Then I crawled away to a nearby alleyway and stood up.

            How was I going to do this...? How was I going to get it back...?

            It was nearing dark, and we were still creeping around the city. Nobody had even seen us.

            There was a group of freedom fighters in the road. We were crouched in the shadows of another alley. It was so dark I couldn't even see Drago, who was right beside me.

            The wind could make or break a sunset. If there was no wind, the smog hung low and heavy, blocking out any light. Sometimes a faint red glow was the only indication of sundown. If there was wind, it sometimes pushed the smog around, making it thinner in places. Through those places, the colors would catch and illuminate the smog. Tonight the sky was unearthly shades of almost neon orange and pink. Drago's fur blew in a light breeze, tickling the top of my head.

            The Freedom Fighters were sorting through a pile of scrap metal.

            "Look at all this junk," I heard one of them say.

            "We'll recycle it. Or something. Maybe there'll be parts for a deroboticizer in here."

            I narrowed my eyes; it was a roboticized fox who had spoken. He wasn't familiar. I knew the Knothole Freedom Fighters had a partially-robotic rabbit, and the roboticized uncle of Sonic on their side. But who was this? Was it possible other roboticizees (for lack of a better word) had gotten their will back also? How many? All of them?

            I closed my eyes, feeling suddenly tired. That would make my job harder. Damn.

            "Hey, look at this. Cool, huh?"

            The voice made me jump.

            There was laughter, and I felt my heart jump as well. My breath came in as a gasp, and my eyes flew open.

            Yes. It was her.

            My eyes took in the scene. The Freedom Fighters. A figure wearing a SWATbot head, laughing. Her hands...her human hands, throwing it off. The breeze catching long strands of fire-red hair.

            "Devon...Devon..."

            I was on my feet suddenly, sprinting for the road. Somebody grabbed me, held me to them.

            "Where ya goin', cueball?!" Drago voice was a low hiss.

            I fought him, my eyes only on her. She was smoothing back her hair now. Her clothing was an orange tank top and jeans. Her shirt rode up, exposing her stomach.

            "Devon!" I cried. "Devon!"

            I went flying. The building wall seemed to lash out and strike me. I hit the ground, and felt a foot pressing down on my back.

            "What the fuck are ya doin', cueball? Tryin' to get us caught?"

            The foot was removed, and a hard kick replaced it.

            "Ow," I whimpered.

            The others were glaring at me. The hawk slapped me across the face, and Sleuth smashed my hand under his black boot.

            "You little moron."

            "Don't do that again."

            "Little bastard..."

            "He's nuts...frickin' nuts..."

            "You try that again, I'll bust yer..."

            "I'M SORRY!" I burst out. "Let me up."

            Sleuth stepped off my foot and grabbed me under the arms, lifting me to my feet.

            "I...I knew that girl," I said. "I'm sorry, I just lost my head...it won't happen again."

            "It'd better not," growled Drago.

            I looked back at Devon one last time before we walked off.

            Without the sweeping lights of SWAT patrols, and the smog clouds blocking out any moonlight, the city was pitch black. The others had better night vision. They moved easily through the night, but I kept bumping into things.

            The Freedom Fighters were gone. They had left a few hours after I'd seen Devon. A whistle had blown, and they all filed off into the forest. They were going to Knothole. I debated following them, then remembered, Drago knew where Knothole was.

            So, now I would know where Knothole was located. But big deal. They were probably going to move into Robotropolis, or else why would they be cleaning everything up?

            I would have to make my move soon.

            "So, what we gonna do?" asked Nack. The others turned to look at me.

            "Let's go to the main control room. See what's what."

            "You think any of them is in there?" Sleuth looked slightly worried.

            "They all went back to Knothole, bonehead," growled Drago. "Besides, we can kick any of their asses."

            "Except your girlfriend," Flying Frog snickered.

            The wolf snarled.

            "Knock it off," I said. "We'll go through the air ducts, just in case. Then we won't have to worry about bumping into anyone."

            "But we can kick their..."

            "I don't care! I don't want to be spotted, you understand?"

            "Fine, fine. So how do we get into these air ducts?"

            "You should know. You were a Freedom Fighter..."

            "I never went on any of their dumb missions."

            I shrugged. "Don't worry about it. I know where they are. Now let's go."

            "I can't see."

            "Get yer tail outta my face!"

            "Man, Drago, yer hogging the place..."

            "SHUT UP!"

            The air duct was groaning underneath us. I wondered if it would hold our weight.

            We had been crawling in the dark for a while. I had no idea where we were. We were traveling up, that's all I knew.

            I was getting tired.

            "I'm tired," I said.

            "So am I," Flying Frog whined.

            "Yeah, let's sleep fer a while."

            I nodded, then remembered they couldn't see in the dark. "I agree. We need some rest."

            There was some banging and clanging as they settled down. I hoped there were no Freedom Fighters around. They would surely hear us with all that racket.

            They fell asleep faster than I did. I could just crawl away now and leave them. I didn't need them.

            Still...more power was better. That's what Julian thought, anyway. He had the whole damn planet in his grip...and where did it get him? Dead, that's where. Of course, if I hadn't fiddled with the machine, he might still be alive, and more powerful than ever...

            It was my turn now. Julian was gone, by his own fault as well as mine. He hadn't anticipated things. I looked over at my sleeping crew, although I couldn't really see them. It was too dark.

            I'd keep them for now. But I'd keep my eye on them. As soon as it was safe, I'd get rid of them. For although they didn't have any real reason to get rid of me, they were capable of it. Very capable...

            We woke up early the next morning. While it was still quite dark, it was light enough to see where we were going. I still didn't know exactly where in the building we were. I looked out through the vents, but the hallways all looked the same. Metal walls, metal floors.

            But eventually we came upon the main control room of the Death Egg.

            "What the hell?" I took my face away from the vent, frowning heavily. The Freedom Fighters might still be spending their time in Knothole, but the king wasn't. He was down there, lounging in a makeshift throne. Robotnik's ugly green chair was gone.

            The last time I saw the king was a few weeks before the whole Ultimate Annihilator thing went over. Half of his body was made of green crystal, the result of being in the Void too long. Now he seemed to be back to his old furry self.

            "I want this building worked on first, St. John," the king was saying. "The restoration of the palace will also restore the spirit of my people."

            I put my eyes up to the vent again. A skunk was standing before the king, and I clenched my teeth; it was the man who'd captured me. He had some sort of weapon on his right arm, a small crossbow attached to his glove.

            "Yes, sire. How should we go about it? I'm no architect."

            "Neither am I, St. John, you figure it out. Perhaps this whole structure should be torn down, and my old palace restored."

            The skunk gulped a little; I saw his Adam's apple bob up and down. It wasn't an attractive sight. "Sire...that would take months..."

"Find an architect, St. John. You don't have to change the whole place, just make it more suited to us. Change it so it doesn't reflect Julian so much..."

            "You mean Robotnik?" ventured the skunk.

            "Yes, ROBOTNIK!" the king roared. The skunk jumped back, and even I cringed a little.

            "Yes, sire!" The skunk waved his hand at two other men, and they promptly left the room.

            "They're going to remodel my building?" I didn't mind that much. I didn't like Julian any more than the king did. But still...it was my building.

            The others were scuffling around in the tunnel behind me. I turned to glare at them. Drago's eyes were gleaming in the dim light. "Hey cueball, the king's alone, ain't he?"

            "Yes," I said.

            "Let's attack him."

            "What for?"

            "What ya mean, 'what for'? To get him outta the way."

            "If the king just disappears, then the others will get suspicious."

            "So what? We're takin' over, aren't we? Why don't we just bust in and take it? What are ya plannin' to do? Sneak around or somethan'?"

            I didn't like how they were saying 'we're taking over'. "If you bust in there, there'll be guards all over you."

            "Yer uncle just busted in and took everythan'. All in one grab."

            "So, that was him. He had robots, he had control of all the war vehicles, he had every advantage. We don't!"

            "Hey, if we get ole kingy, then we'll have all the power we need. We'll hold him hostage. They'll give us everythan'. Especially Sally, she won't want poor daddy hurt."

            "I don't like barging in," I said. "I like planning first. I like to see what they have first."

            "They don't have nothin'."

            I leaned back against the air duct wall. "Yesterday, when we were sneaking around, you saw some roboticized people, didn't you?"

            "Yeah, so what?"

            "They had their will back. A lot of them. That means most of them probably do."

            "So what?"

            "So...they're to us what SWATbots were to the Freedom fighters. Dangerous. And we don't have some incredible hedgehog on our side to beat them."

            "We don't need one. We've got these!" Drago waved a gun around.

            "Keep your voice down, dammit." I glanced out through the vent. The king was leaning his head back, eyes closed.

            "You're the one who wants this city so bad," said Ernie. "But now you're going soft. Gettin' scared."

            "I'm not scared. I...I just don't want to lose this again." I felt a strange stinging in my eyes, like I might cry.

            "I wanna look down," said Drago. I moved over. He slid in front of the vent, then suddenly leaned his back against the wall, and kicked his legs out hard. The vent tumbled out of the duct, and the wolf leapt thorough. I heard the king yelp in surprise.

            The others scrambled out after Drago.

            "GUARDS! GUARDS!!!"

            I peeked through the duct to see the king wrestling on the floor with Drago, his long robes twisting around everywhere. Then the doors slid open and the skunk and his two partners came back in, along with more guards.

            Nack pulled out a pistol, but was clobbered by the skunk before he could shoot. Then the skunk aimed his weapon-arm at Sleuth, Ernie, Flying Frog, and the hawk, who were grouped up. I saw the arrow launch; the tip was bulky. The tip sprang open suddenly, and my four crew members were entangled in a net.

            "They aren't going to win," I muttered, and then I got out of there. Those damn bastards...they were going to cost me the city!

            I made it outdoors undetected, and stood in an alleyway, fuming. "Those bastards!" I couldn't help kicking a trash can. It tumbled over, spilling its contents. There was a ragged scrap of brown cloth.

            I picked it up, running it through my hands. It wasn't much of a disguise, but it would help a little. I wrapped it around my head like a turban, and then around my nose and mouth. I turned and looked at myself in the metal side of the building. My nose made a severe protrusion in the cloth. I shrugged. People would probably think I was a bird or something.

            I wrapped the cloth until only my eyes were visible. The frayed end was tucked into the collar of my...prison outfit.

            Shit. I couldn't just walk around with this on. Especially after news got out that some prisoners had escaped and attacked the king. I wondered if my crew would say I was with them. I wondered if the guards were already out looking for me.

            I tore off the number patch and threw it in the garbage can. But the outfit was still conspicuous. I took off the uniform completely. Now I was just wearing the long-sleeved wooly shirt and my underwear. I couldn't just walk around in underwear and a shirt. I tore at the uniform, trying to tear off the top section and just leave the bottoms to wear. But the cloth was strong.

            I took the shirt off and put the uniform on, and put the shirt back on over the uniform. It felt bulky and slightly uncomfortable, but it didn't look so much like prison greys anymore.

            I looked down at my hands. They were just so blatantly obvious; I was human. And there weren't many humans around here. I rubbed them against a dirty part of the building, but it didn't help. Now they were just dirty.

            I rummaged in the garbage and found some more cloth. I wrapped some of it around my hands, leaving just my fingers exposed. It would have to do. I wasn't going to be seen if I could help it, anyway.

            The wind was blowing hard today, and sunlight spilled onto the city streets. I was uneasy without shadows.

            I stood by a junk pile, hidden from the street. Some kids came by and pounced upon the pile.

            "Hey man, this is our turf," one said.

            I didn't say anything.

            "Yeah, this is OUR clubhouse," a girl cat with pigtails sneered at me.

            "That's nice," I said. "You'd better be careful you don't get hurt."

            "We won't."

            I sighed and walked off.

            "Grownups," I heard them say, and laugh.

            The group of Mobians were still working on King Acorn's statue. I wonder why they were so worried about that. It was a nice statue...well had been a nice statue, but it certainly shouldn't be top priority.

            Maybe I should rule differently than Julian. Instead of enslaving everyone, I could just terrify them. They could live in my city, and have businesses and live their little lives, as long as they obeyed my rules. I smiled. That would be fun. It probably would never work, but it was an amusing idea.

            The king's face was free of grime, looking radiant against the rest of the statue. He seemed to be frowning over at me.

            "Did you hear the news?"

            "No, what?" A cat holding a scrub brush looked over at the raccoon who'd spoken.

            "Some guys tried to attack the king!"

            The raccoon looked shocked. "Who would do that?!"

            "I heard it might've been some guys from that island prison."

            "No way."

            "Yeah."

            "Hmmm. How'd they get out, I wonder?"

            "Don't know."

            I tried not to look suspicious as I walked by them. The cat looked at me for a moment, but it was just a glance. I let my breath out slow. Mustn't look nervous.

            I turned into an alleyway and stopped. Somebody was there, picking up garbage, examining it, and then throwing it into a garbage can. They were wearing some kind of hooded shirt, and turned to look at me.

            "Hey," she said, her voice smoothing over me. "Wanna help?" Her eyebrows titled up worriedly as I leaned against the wall.

            "Are you ok?" she asked, laying her hand on my arm.

            I trembled hard and sank heavily down to my knees.

            "Are you..."

            I pulled the cloth off my face.

            "Oh my God," she said.

            "Uh...hello, Devon..." I smiled weakly.

            Her eyes darted over my face, and she reached her hand out to touch my cheek. "Man, I can't believe you're here!"

            "Ssssh," I said.

            "How'd you escape?" she whispered.

            I sighed. "It's a long story."

            "I heard that there was some attack on the king. You weren't in on it, were you?" She crossed her arms over her chest.

            "No, I told them not to, but they wouldn't listen."

            "You aren't planning on some dumb take-over or something, are you?"

            I didn't say anything.

            "Are you?"

            "Maybe," I said mysteriously.

            "Snively, you can't do that."

            I laughed. "I've waited years to do this."

            "You have to turn yourself in."

            "Are you nuts?"

            "No. You are. You can't do it. You'll get hurt. If you just turn yourself in, they won't do anything to you."                

            "I doubt that."

            She was getting her I'm-worried-about-you look on her face. I hated that look. Worrying about something meant you cared about it...and I knew how much she cared about me. And I didn't want to hear it. "Sniv, I'll stick up for you. I won't let anything happen to you."

            I believed she would try. But trying wasn't enough. The Freedom Fighters would never listen to her, in fact, they might even turn against her. She was a human too. Even though she was sweet and helpful, there had to be some mistrust of her.

            "No," I said. "Just leave me alone. Don't tell anyone I'm here." I started to leave. She grabbed my arm.

            "You can't!"

            "Dev, let go."

            "Sniv', don't go."

            "Devon!"

            She jerked me to her and suddenly kissed me, hard and full on the lips. I felt weak and dizzy when she let me go. The hood of her shirt had fallen down, and her hair was tumbling around her face, looking so much like fire, I expected it to burn her.

            She looked beautiful. I wanted to stay near her. I wanted to talk to her. My eyes wandered over her body...and I had to admit...I wanted all of her. All she had to give, and all that I could take.

            Her eyes were a green-blue color, like ocean water. The sunlight filtered into the alley, and her eyes were filled with light. I put my hand to her face, running my fingers over her eyelids, down her nose. She smiled. I always thought her lips looked like rose petals. I touched them gently, and they felt just as soft as petals.

            "Stay..." she began.

            I had to shut her up. I pulled her towards me, burying my hands in her hair, so thick and soft it felt like feathers. She raised her head to meet mine and we kissed again.

            A feeling went down my body, like lightning or something; it was thrilling. I pulled her closer. She was leaning on me now; her breasts pressed against my chest, her thighs against mine, and I got well...a little aroused. I pushed her away before she could tell.

            "Devon," I was breathing harder than usual. "Devon, come with me. We'll take over together!"

            "You're so insane," she said, clasping her hands on top of my head. "You're going to get hurt."

            "Come with me, please, please, Devon, I..." I took a long clump of her hair and wrapped it around my hand.

            "You what?" she asked craftily. She was always trying to get me to admit I liked her. That I...I loved her.

            "I want you to come with me."

            "Won't I get in your way?"

            "No, the more power the better..."

            She was frowning.

            "Just think about it. We could rule the city. You and me. Equal power. We wouldn't have to roboticize anyone."

            "Think about this: you turn yourself in, you get pardoned, you come stay with me. No law-breaking. No looking over your shoulder, no stress."

            "They all hate me, Devon. I can't live with them; I have to live above them. I owe them. They took this away from me; this city was mine!"

            She shook her head.

            "You don't understand. I waited so long for this."

            "No, YOU don't understand! You don't have to be evil! You don't have to be hated, you don't have to hate anymore! Uncle Julian is dead, and if you try and take over, then you're just keeping part of him alive!"

            The cat and raccoon passed by our alley without a glance. Devon looked at me for a moment, and then whirled to run after them. I grabbed her by the hair and yanked her back.

            "Don't you dare tell them," I growled.

            She slapped me hard enough to make me stumble. "I won't let you destroy yourself."

            I grabbed a piece of pipe off the ground. "If you aren't with me, Devon, then you're against me..."     

            "You wouldn't hit me, you bastard." Her eyes reflected all the fury of an ocean storm.

            I sighed. "I don't want to. But I will."

            The storm in her eyes turned rainy, and ran down her cheeks. I looked away; seeing her cry made something inside me twist and hurt.

            "You would hit me, after all we've been through? You would...you would throw away love for some stupid, stupid city? Some stupid thing you won't be able to keep anyway? You'd rather be hated than loved? WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOU?!"

            I smacked the pipe against my palm. I wondered how hard I'd have to hit to knock her out. She'd tell, though. She'd tell that I was running around the city, and I know she'd beg them not to hurt me. They wouldn't listen though. I'd end up dead, or back in prison.

            But I...I couldn't kill her.

            "Devon, please, this means everything to me. It's not about hate, it's about what's mine. This city is mine. I'm not like Julian...I'm not going to do what he did."

            She looked torn. I wondered what she was thinking.

            "I...I...the freedom fighters are my friends. I can't betray them. I can't join you."

            "But that means you can't be quiet about me, either."

            "No..." Tears dripped off her chin. "I can't let you hurt them."

            "What if I promise not to hurt them; would you come with me?"

            She looked me directly in the eye. She was never ashamed of crying. How unlike me. Crying seemed a sign of weakness to me...and I was already weak enough to begin with.

            "You couldn't keep that promise. And you know it."

            "If you're with me, then you won't let me hurt them."

            She was still staring me in the eyes, and I fought to hold her stare. I just wished she'd disappear. She was so damn crippling to my entire plan. I couldn't kill her, but I couldn't let her go either.

            "That's true," she admitted. "But the Freedom Fighters will think I betrayed them. They'll hate me."

            "What's more important, me or them?" I asked nastily. She looked stricken; as I knew she would. She hated what I'd become. She hated that I was mean and nasty and wicked now. Puh.

            "Snively, that's not fair."

            "Who said I was being fair? Just answer it."

            "You're both very important to me."

            I was getting restless. We had to look suspicious, just standing in an alleyway, talking. If someone walked by, they might get curious. I wrapped the cloth back around my face. "Look Dev, I can't stay here much longer. Decide." I tapped the pipe against the wall meaningfully.

            "I won't come with you."

            "Then you'll betray me? You'll give me away?"

            She looked angry. Yes, I was pissing her off now. I was making her feel guilty. But dammit, I couldn't have her screwing me over now. Not when I was so close.

            She kicked the wall suddenly, enraged. "I hate you for this," she hissed. "But I'll let you go. I won't say anything. But if you hurt any of them, I'll come after you myself."

            I laughed.

            She grabbed me by the shirt and yanked me to her. "I am dead serious. If you get caught, Sniv', I WON'T bail you out. You had your chance. You had your chance to...to be with me..."

            She let me go and ran out of the alley. I didn't stop her. She didn't look back. If she had, she might've seen a sparkle of water in my eyes.

            I didn't want to lose her. I didn't want to lose the city. I didn't want to lose her...

            I left the alley and found myself a hiding place. It wasn't easy, because the Mobians were everywhere, cleaning up. But I finally found one.

            I sat down to think.

            I would have the city.

            And I would have Devon.

            And it wouldn't be long.