I'm back. Yes, after months of waiting the next saga of the Bloodtail Trilogy is here. This is prequel of the series, not the sequel so you're still going to have to wait to see Tails return from his training trip.

If you've never seen the first fic, just head over to my account and you'll find it there. Please be warned that it starts off bad since I was struggling to be a writer back then, but it does get better and I have also gotten better now that I'm older (I started it like four or five years ago I think).

Now this story takes three years after Tail's execution, a few months after demons started appearing again, and a few years before Tails meets Amy and the rest again when he returns to Mobius. Expect to have some answers that have been around in the story for a while answered here. Such as Tail's first love, the origin of the double barrel shotgun, his hatred for Balthazar, and how his reputation got started.

Maybe you'll even find some secrets to A.R.C.A.N.O. as well.

Enough talk though, you've waited too long for this story and now let the fun begin.

"I do not wish to hide my origins, nor do I seek to make it a subject of conversation. I am what I am."

-Ryan Giggs

Neo York City, the greatest city in the world.

After the Xorda wars, the original great apple had been reduced to a giant pile of rubble with barely any of the old boroughs still standing. One of the first acts of the new government was to restore the most famous city to its former glory. In record time, it regained the prestige and power it once held, becoming bigger and grander than ever.

In honor of its past, the five boroughs still remained and hadn't changed much. Manhattan was still richville, with all the high class citizens looking down upon the small and weak. Brooklyn was still home of the immigrants and gangs. Housing in Staten Island was like trying to get through Fort Knox – impossible, to put it bluntly. And Queens was still the same shithole it always had been. The only one of the five that had changed considerably was the Bronx, now known as Demon's District. Mostly because it housed nearly all the demons and half-demons of Neo Y.C.

Not as big a population as Chinatown, but close.

Crime in the Bronx was higher than it ever had been, the police assigned there forced to work twenty-four seven with minimal amounts of rest. It wasn't exactly an ideal neighborhood to hang out in, so when its inhabitants saw a teenager red mobian fox walking around town like he owned the place, he obviously caught a few eyes.

He had blood red fur and a white stomach. A large red tail with a black tip brought attention to his rear, very attractive to the eye of some female mobians, but he paid little attention to them, his sky blue eyes focused on the path ahead. His hair was a bit wild and downward, covering the tops of his eyes.

But what he wore is what caught their attention the most.

Unlike some of his species, who left clothes out of their lives thanks to their ability to hide their private parts, this one was completely covered in clothing: a red trench coat with many pockets and zippers, worn loose around his body, showing his muscled abs for all to see; black cargo pants and combat boots to cover his lover half; black fingerless gloves completed the ensemble.

The stranger suddenly turned from the main street he walked on into a dark alley, in the direction of a human hobo wrapped in a blanket, huddling next to a burning trash can. "Isn't that illegal?" he whispered.

"Is your mom a whore?" asked the tramp, focusing on his fire.

"Not as much as my dad."

The bum smiled. "You're late. I was beginning to think you wouldn't come."

"Whatever. So are you sure the bar across the street is the one?"

"Definitely, I've seen people go in. No one comes out. That's the one for sure." After a small pause, the man asked, "Now about my pay?"

The mobian nodded and took out a wad of bills from his coat pocket. He tossed it to the man, who took it with glee.

"Thanks. I'm gonna have some fun with this."

The fox raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms. He knew what the other meant by 'fun': hard drinks and cheap whores, maybe with a drug or two to top it off. "Why not use that money to help yourself, you know, get out of the gutter and live a decent life?"

"I've got cancer, kid. I'm fucked either way, so I might as well enjoy what little I can get."

The hobo limped away, leaving the fox to shake his head at the sad sight. When he was done pitying the man, he went back the way he came and crossed the street to a rundown bar that had seen better days, the sign reading "Black Dagger" a cold welcome with its lights off. With a sigh, he pushed the door open.

The moment he entered the building, the fox smirked. He could already smell the blood and guts the owner, either due to laziness or incompetence, failed to wash away. Scanning around the area, he saw only fifteen or so patrons drinking away without a care, two of them playing pool with marijuana joints dangling from their mouths.

All thirteen looked human, but he knew better.

The wooden floor creaked as he made his way to the bar stand, where the bartender, a balding man with a cared for mustache, was serving a beer to one of the locals. He sat on one of the stools and waited for the bartender to walk over, cleaning a mug.

"Aren't you a bit young to be drinking, fox boy?"

"Just a glass, please. I brought my own drink."

The bartender didn't respond, but obeyed nonetheless. "Ya got a name?"

Reaching into his jacket, the teenager pulled out a canteen and poured water into the glass. "Siles Drowler," he said after a sip

"Siles, huh? Odd name." The bartender turned his back and went about checking his bottles. "What's a kid like you doing in a place like this?"

"I'm just interested in looking into strange events," answered Siles, finishing his glass of water. He refilled it to the brim and tossed his canteen into a nearby trash can, an action a few of the patrons eyed him for, but went back to their glasses seconds later. "I guess you can say I'm kind of an investigator."

The bartender stood still. "What are you investigating?"

"Oh, nothing much," said Siles, scratching his head. "Just some disappearances that appear to be happening at your bar."

The entire bar went silent. The pool game came to a halt and the patrons put their drinks aside, sitting like statues. Siles smirked: they were like kids with their hands in the cookie jar. "You wouldn't happen to know anything about that would you?"

The patron next to him grabbed his shoulder, and turned him around. Siles winced from the smell of alcohol from the man's breath. "Dude, get a breath mint."

The drunk gave him a grin, showing a set of pointy teeth. "We don't take kindly to people just waltzing up here and accusing us of murder."

In a split second, the barrel of a customized black Colt 1911 was right in his face. Siles smirked. "I never said anything about murder."

He pulled the trigger.

The bullet knocked the half demon's limp body right off his stool and into a jukebox. All the patrons stood up as Siles drew his other 1911. With no reason to maintain cover, their gums became filled with razor sharp fangs as claws erupted form their hands. They hissed menacingly at the intruder, their eyes glowing a pale red.

Everything and everyone stood still for a good while, until the jukebox started playing.

(Now Playing: Crash, Artist: Fit for Rivals)

The bartender behind Siles started it off in an effort to slice him with his claws, but his target managed to duck, following the evasion with a kick in his face that smashed him into his wine bottles, covering his back with shards of broken glass.

Siles quickly took his drink and threw it at the demonic bartender's face. Immediately, he began to hiss and write as his face began to melt. "H-holy… w-water…" he choked out with the last of his speech capability before his skin and muscles dissipated completely, leaving his skull by itself on top of his shoulders.

His remaining comrades all roared and charged for Siles, who, to their surprise, charged back. He flipped over the now stumbling mob, stomping on one's head and using the demon's shoulders as a springboard. In a fluid movement, he landed, turned around and started firing at the crowd. However, as Siles readied himself for the next charge, the bullet holes in their bodies closed up in fractions of a second.

I told you, aim for the head. These guys heal too quickly to waste ammo, said a demonic voice in the fox's head.

What ammo? These bullets are made from pure demonic energy! I can shoot as much as I want! Siles thought back as he dodged another swipe for his throat.

You know exactly what I mean.

Siles flipped back onto a table and kicked two mugs full of beer into two of the demons' faces, shooting their legs in their moment of distraction, forcing them to their knees. At the end of a forward jump, he placed his guns on their necks and pulled the triggers.

Before he could move, one of the demons managed to trap him in a full nelson and lifted his scrawny body up in the air. Another one grinned evilly and shot his claw forward, sticking its fingers right into his chest.

The demon looked at his victim's face, his grin fading at the sight. Instead of horror and pain, he saw a bored expression. "Surprised?"

His leg shot forward like a spring, hitting the demon in face and sending it sprawling back, even as the mobian threw his heel back into the shin of the one holding him. The arm over his shoulder was pulled into a throw that sent his opponent down, and Siles wasted no time getting on its back. He pushed forward, his unnatural strength making the screaming body sail across the floor like a spinning skateboard.

The fox whooped and cried as he rode the demon, firing in random directions. Most of the demons managed to avoid the crazy riding fox and his shots as he smashed through table and chair alike, but three unfortunate ones got hit in their heads by the flying lead.

Siles steered the demon towards the pool table, making it into a ramp by shooting its front legs off. The demon shrieked in fear as its rider jumped off at the last second, sending the demon in an arc before it broke its neck against the wall.

Siles landed on the raised side, kicking the table and the balls on it up into the air. He waited, gun raised, until the black eight ball was in his sights. The shot that hit the ball sent it into another which, in turn, ricocheted into another, creating a chain reaction that turned them into the equivalent of giant buckshot pellets. The wild pool balls shot towards the remaining demons, finding their marks in stomachs, legs and heads. Those unfortunate with the last one fell dead on their backs.

Three more to go, Siles thought as he observed the recovering demons. He focused his energy into his guns. With the weapons in his hands glowing and crackling with red lightning, he waited for two of them to rush, and when they did, he bent backwards, evading the decapitating and chest-crippling slashes. As soon as they sailed past, he stood upright and fired over his shoulders. The splatter of bone mixed with brain hitting the floor was confirmation that he had them square in their heads, as he expected.

The last remaining one fell to on his back, fear in his eyes as the mobian stepped closer. "Please! Mercy!"

The only answer was three shots in each arm, each bullet followed by a shriek.

"Who are you?!"

A smile curved Siles' lips. "I'm Bloodtail, the demon hunter. Not that you're gonna live to remember that."

He pulled the trigger.

(Music ends)

(The Music of Welcome Home ByCoheed and Cambria plays)

…Dark Side of the World Presents…

… A Sonic the Hedgehog fanfic…

…crossed over with material from Devil May Cry….

…as well as information of Demonology and Angelology….

...edited by REV6Pilot...

BLOODTAIL: THE FIRST DEVIL TRIGGER

Disclaimer: The author owns nothing that is not his….

(Music ends)

His job completed, a bored Siles made his way through the streets of Bensonhurst, Brooklyn. The night wind picked up trash from the streets and blew it all around him, the occasional paper bag getting caught in his shin. He didn't mind, distracted eyeing the walls of business stores, all "decorated" with the city's most common scars. The fox shook his head at the graffiti of gang symbols, swear words, badly-done drawings and other nonsense. The poor people's outcry against the government and the higher classes wasn't a problem that was his to solve.

He was about to turn the corner when he noticed a hooded human, barely taller than him, spray tagging a new store's wall. Siles softly walked up to him and tagged his shoulder, chuckling at the silent frightened jump of his prey.

The boy turned around, frightened at first, but relaxed when he saw who it was. "Cavolo, Siles, don't sneak up on a guy like that! I thought ya was policia or somethin'!"

Siles chuckled louder. "Afraid of having your mother belt you for getting another twelve eighty-five, Alberto?"

"Minchia, my mother can be such a…" Alberto shook his head. He noticed the blood on Siles's clothes and smirked. "Ah, I see, fratello. You kicked some demon ass, am I right?"

"Just a simple bar fight, nothing much," shrugged Siles. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a five dollar bill. "So, anything on the street?"

Alberto nodded, snatching the bill out of Siles' hand. "Yeah, got rumors that some abiti, guys in suits, have been looking for somebody. They say they're from OASIS, which is weird cause not many demone live in Brooklyn, sai?"

The smile on Siles' face disappeared. This is interesting… "Thanks for the heads up, Alberto. I suggest you head home before your mom realizes you snuck out again."

His little friend nodded before taking off, vanishing into the streets like a shadow. Siles sighed as he continued down his path to a set of rundown apartments.

He made it to the front door, where a small computer keyboard sat on the wall, and typed in his code. After a second of processing, a synthesized voice asked, "Voice ID required."

"Siles Drowler."

The computer beeped a few more times before a positive green light was shown. "Welcome back, Mr. Drowler. Your next rent is in two weeks."

A quiet buzzing sound rang before the door clicked, allowing him to open it. He marched in and made his way up the staircase. So now that I wasted my time on a pointless small time bounty, when are we going to get to the real hardcore stuff, Sparda?

Relax, kit. You've only just started. It's been three months since I trained you. You'll get a big shot, you just need to start small, said the demon knight.

Siles snorted. Yeah, I may be a half demon now, but that doesn't mean I'll wait forever. Haven't I proven myself already?

He made it to the final floor when he walked over to his room, taking out his keycard.

Don't worry. I'm sure your chance will come… Why, it might even be right now.

What makes you say that?

To Siles' surprise as he opened the door, there was a blond man in a blue suit sitting on his dining room table, calm and collected as he drank a mug of coffee in his hands. The two stared at each other, neither moving, until a few minutes later, Siles closed the door and made his way to the kitchen. He walked back to the dining room with a cold soda in his hand and sat across the intruder. The two drank from their respective beverages, the stalemate up again. This time, it was the man who broke it as he cleared his throat. "You look quite calm for a guy who just realized his house was broken into."

"And you seem to have some balls for doing just that," replied Siles. He eyed the suited man. "Mind telling me why I shouldn't shoot you first and tell the cops I was legally defending my home from invasion?"

The man smirked, before reaching into his suit. Siles tensed up, ready to reach for his guns, but pulled away when the man showed a wallet and flipped it open. "Agent Nicholas Cox, OASIS Special Intelligence Division."

Siles eyed the room. "SID, huh?" Chances were his, entire apartment was bugged and a special squad was waiting next door, ready to get in guns blazing should things turn ugly. "And what does the big, bad secret agent want with a mobian refugee in his teens?"

"Well, first I want to congratulate you on handing those demons at the bar. Quite a riot." Agent Cox smirked behind another sip of his coffee. He saw the glare in Siles' eyes and waved his hand. "Relax, Mr. Drowler. We've been keeping an eye on you since long before that."

"That's not very reassuring," muttered Siles, glancing at his windows.

"Thinking of running away?" the agent asked, taking the home's owner by surprise. "You may be a half-demon, and not a bad hunter for an FNG in the business, but I've handled worse than you before in all aspects."

Settle down, kit. Let's hear what he has to say first.

Taking a deep breath, Siles drained his soda to calm his nerves. He knew he would have to expect a visit from the organization that controlled, monitored and eliminated all demon-related cases sooner or later. Just not right now.

Agent Cox leaned forward, his face turning serious. "Mr. Drowler. I mean it when I say that I am not here to harm you, but to offer you a job."

Siles raised an eyebrow. "Why would you offer me, a fresh demon hunter, when you have plenty of other guys with more power and experience a phone call away?"

Smirking, Agent Cox whispered, "Because not all demon hunters have a certain… knightly aura like you do."

Although he didn't show it, Siles was now panicking. Sparda, to his credit, chuckled at the thought. Relax, kit. It was bound to happen sooner or later. Guess I'm just too famous for my own good.

Ignoring his tenant's boasting, the fox sighed and shook his head. "How about we quit the cloak and dagger bullshit and come out full circle? You know what I'm carrying, so that mean you also know who I really am, right?"

This time Agent Cox looked at him with sympathy, confirming Siles' suspicion.

"Great. Who else knows?"

"Nobody from Mobius, if that's what you're implying. In fact, you can count the amount of people that know of you in one hand, even inside OASIS. After all, if it turns out you're alive and living here, the Mobian government might call for your head again."

Siles' eyes turned red and a bit of killing intent leered off him, the combined effects making Agent Cox sweat from the pressure. "Let them try. I'll give them exactly what they gave to me three years ago," he answered with a growl.

Wiping his forehead, Agent Cox nodded. "Well, I wouldn't blame you if you did, although it's in our best interests to keep your… betrayers, alive at the moment."

"Whatever." Huffing, Siles retracted his aura and shook his head. "So what's the job and why do you need me to do it?"

The man reached into his suit again and brought out a PDA. Taking it, Siles touched the screen, revealing the picture of a slimy, long haired Asian man dressed like a corporate executive, sneering at the lens like a weasel, a glimmer of madness in his eyes. "That's Takeda Genda, owner of Genda Trading, the king of trade across the Pacific," said Agent Cox. "But as you're probably suspecting right now, that's just the rug on top of the dirt."

Siles clicked the screen again, and a series of reports and rumors of Takeda's shady dealings popped up on the screen. According to the information he glanced at, he was suspected over the last ten years for exporting and importing various demonic and dark artifacts across several countries, using his company's ships to get in and out of places he couldn't go and get the artifacts off the radar, later selling them in his own private auctions. "So the guy is a scumbag. What do you want me to do, kill him?"

"While that would be somewhat of a favor to the world, I'm afraid there is a more important task we have for you," said Agent Cox, gesturing for the demon hunter to keep browsing, which he did. The next screen showed a resort island with heavy fortifications built into it, apparently a combination of a vacation resort and a military test facility. "Genda owns Iejima Island, the last of the Okinawa islands to survive the Xorda invasion. The man has turned the land into his private resort and uses it for his yearly tournament."

Siles snapped his head up. "Tournament?"

"A fighting tournament, for both mortals and half-demons. He allows anybody, from mercs to trained fighters to demon hunters and even representatives from criminal organizations, to enter it. The fights are shown in some certain underground pay per view websites, and he multiplies that revenue by managing the gambling that goes on during it. The winner of the tournament gets a special reward, the Black Vault."

Another finger tap on the PDA's display showed a photo of a security vault with both mechanical locks and mystical charms. Sparda whistled. That's one high level vault you got there. Half of those charms alone would take even a seal master hours to solve.

"That vault is where Genda keeps all his most dangerous artifacts. We're talking high class dark magic shit." Agent Cox shook his head. "What's worse is that, after each tournament, he sells some of his artifacts to some high profile cults and terrorists.

"We want you in there, and what we're looking for is his list of clients. If we manage to get them, as well as their contact data and location information, we can do a little cleaning up that will make people sleep easier. You don't have to win the tournament, though I think it would be in your best interest to do so too."

What is this? Enter the Dragon? asked Sparda.

"I don't get it," said Siles, tossing the PDA back. "Why me? I'm just a new guy in this business. Biggest demon I had to face yet was a second level child-eating bastard that cried like a girl when I spilled his intestines on the floor. It makes no sense."

"Genda does regular background checks on all his competitors," Agent Cox responded, nonchalantly dropping the palmtop on the table. "If he knows one of the contestants has so much as a third degree cousin with a friend related to OASIS, he drops them out.

"You, on the other hand, are new. You've never done a mission for us. And you got some serious raw potential with the power of Sparda in you. You will be paid for all this, of course. About thirteen million to be exact…"

Siles' eyebrows rose for a second.

"… and there is a special item in the vault that your friend, Sparda, might be interested in. Look to the last page." With that, Agent Cox got up on his feet and headed to the door. "If you're willing to do this, meet me by the June Bug Café on Broadway tomorrow around three in the afternoon. Good day, Mr. Drowler."

The door clicked closed, leaving the demon hunter alone with his thoughts. He pressed the screen one last time.

Sparda gasped.

What? Do you recognize it?

That blade…

Siles looked at what was shown, a massive greatsword with a double-edged blade notched on both sides near the tip. The pommel was a single spike, the grip was plain with a skeletal guard, a skull-face on each side leading to the rib cage from which the blade emerged. Suddenly, memories of a sword that nearly killed him during a dark ritual three years ago came back to haunt him. He remembered the blade, but it had been in the darkest corners of his mind, forgotten, until now.

Rebellion…

End of chapter

Not a bad start, huh? Tune in for more.

Later