Chaos Born

The Fox Can Do What The Lion Can't

It wasn't just Knuckles and Amy facing the music.

For many miles, the lone robot flew over endless choppy ocean until reaching the Abandoned Isles, touching down on Christmas Isle and hurrying to deliver his proud catch before the one who had sent him on his master's bidding - or so the lump of titanium had been lead to believe.

Having been trapped inside the robot for the lenghty duration, Tails was conflicted on whether to be relieved of receiving fresh air or anxious over the fact that, whatever destination they had been heading for, they had now arrived.

The 18 year old fox was deposited like a sacrificual lamb a few meters from a dark wood desk.

It wasn't the dank and dingy dungeon that Tails had been anticipating but, judging from the look on the face of the man seated at the desk, he wasn't convinced this was any better.

"Welcome," the gaunt human greeted without sincerity.

"Hi," Tails immediately responded, picking himself up and fluffing his fur out to its full length, a natural response in the wild when faced with danger.

The deranged Robotnik seemed amused by this display.

"Not quite as timid as I was imagining," he confessed.

"Not quite as timid as I used to be," Tails retorted smoothly, holding onto his confidence with two figurative hands and no intention of letting go.

"Fair enough," the human shrugged and made a point of glancing at his laptop, "You are Miles Prower? Otherwise known as Tails?"

Two could play this game.

"And you are Ira Robotnik," Tails noted back at him, "the unknown brother of Ivo Robotnik, otherwise known as Eggman?"

As intended, the word 'unknown' seemed to flick a tightly strung nerve.

"You've got spark, haven't you?" Ira went on smiling falsely.

"You have to have spark to do what we do."

"Freedom Fighter, yes?"

"If there is freedom to fight for then, yes."

Ira took a long minute to examine the fluffy lump of meat in front of him with the greed of a seasoned poacher.

"So you're the little tag-a-long?" he mused, "Took pity on you, did he?"

Of course, 'he' referred to Sonic, of which they were both aware.

Tails had yet to smile back.

"I like to think we found each other," he continued on, sharp blue eyes boring holes through Robotnik's glasses.

"How very sweet," Ira crooned, "You were how old when you met?"

The snarl that Tails was witholding threatened to break out and the tip of a fang was briefly seen for a split second.

"...Why?"

Ira shrugged. "Just curious."

Every word from here on out, Tails thought grimly, is going to have to be chosen extra carefully.

Miles Prower was as cunning as the old tales made foxes out to be. He refused to let that reputation be tarnished now.

"...I was near to being four."

"No blood relatives?"

"Orphaned."

The satisfaction was evident in every aspect of Robotnik's face.