Sonic and Co belong to Sega. If I owned them, Tails would be alot cooler and Sonic wouldnt be such a cocky-ass mother... Sorry, I'm getting carried away, arent I?

Also, Supersonic belongs to Bad Religion and their affiliates.

CHAPTER 1

0

A young man stood at the top of a tall sand dune. He appeared to be in his late teens, and was well built from what could be seen under his sand colored cloak and light clothing. He was also tall, especially for one of his species. His hood covered his head, protecting it from the sun. He gazed through tinted goggles at the horizon, bright, sky-blue eyes following something moving in the far distance. One hand patted the Colt .45 strapped to his right leg, the other flipping a Bowie knife into the air and catching it deftly by the blade. Two long, bushy tails switched gently behind him, dark orange fur stirring slightly in the breeze.

If anyone were around, they would have seen him tense up, breathing "Bingo!"

With a swift movement, he snatched his bowie knife from the air and sheathed it alongside a matching one belted to his chest. Then, eyes flashing, he leaped down the side of the dune, speeding after his quarry with the wind at his back. His tails became a blur as he spun them, utilizing them as a propeller to push him forwards at an impossible speed. White sand kicked up behind him like the wake from a speedboat as he gained velocity, going faster and faster. A violent blast of heated air sent sand whirling into a dust storm as the man blasted through the sound barrier, pushing himself to his physical limit as he pursued his target.

Adrenaline pumped through his veins, awakening some primal instinct in his mind. Genetic memories flashed through his head, memories of hunting prey with his pack. His senses were honed to perfection, allowing him to see and hear like never before. The scent of his quarry's sweat filled his nostrils. Nothing, absolutely nothing could escape him in this state. The smell of blood came next. His prey was injured, and making a desperate attempt to cover his trail. It was no use. With a gust of grit filled wind, the fleeing target was pinned beneath his pursuer, the heavy blade of a Bowie knife pressed against his throat.

The older man said two words before passing out. "Dune Wolf!"

0

Dune Wolf, or Wolf as he was called by his comrades, stood, sheathing his knife as he did so. "I've got to learn not to do that," he said to himself, shaking his head and pulling off his hood. The metal facemask he wore covered his mouth and nose, and contained a synthesizer that distorted his voice.

"One of these days, I'm gonna kill someone by doing that."

Wolf lifted the limp form at his feet, hauling his quarry upright and slinging him across his back. The older man, a human, moaned, but he didn't wake up. Wolf had no trouble carrying him to Obsidian City. The officials would take care of the criminal, and Wolf would get a fair sum for being the captor. Wolf was a bounty hunter.

When Wolf arrived at the station, one of the officers was waiting for him.

"Excellent work, Wolf," the woman said, "Chief Stockholm will be quite proud."

Wolf blushed at the pretty human's compliment, and was glad that his mask and hood hid his face.

"Thank you, Tori," was his mumbled reply, as he let himself into the station.

Stockholm was sitting in his chair, and impressive figure in full military regalia. He was a military sergeant, and had been through several military operations, with several battle scars to prove it. He was a strange sort for a human, believing that the living body was one of the greatest weapons of all. He had received several medical procedures, ones that complimented his bearlike strength and physique. He unfolded his arms and grinned as Wolf entered his office, showing his adamantine claws and fangs. Yet those were the least of his 'enhancements.'

"Great work, Wolf m'boy," he said, as Wolf tied his prisoner down to a chair, "You would make a great addition to our force, you know that?"

Wolf scowled underneath his mask, giving a displeased snort. "Stockholm, I've told you time and time again, I do not want to get tied into service in the law enforcement. It would put me at risk of revealing my true identity. You know that, Chief."

The door opened, and a pair of officials took Wolf's prisoner. Wolf shut the door behind them as they left, locking it as he did so. "You know just as well as I do that there are people who would hurt my friends just to get at me, Brice. If they learned my identity, they would know just who to target."

He pushed his goggles up onto his forehead and opened his facemask. Wolf has a very youthful face, and his voice was much smoother and lighter without the synthesizer distorting it. A slim scar crossed the bridge of his muzzle, passing just beneath his left eye.

"I know, Miles," Stockholm replied, standing and patting Wolf on the shoulder, "I was just kidding with you, m'boy. I know you would never endanger your friends."

A bundle of bills was pressed into Wolf's hands, his payment for capturing the criminal.

"Spend it wisely, Miles. Thanks for catching him for us."

"Not a problem, Sarge. You can call me pretty much any time you need me."

Wolf unlocked the door and stepped out, covering his face again. He knew that Tori watched him as he left, and his sharp hearing caught her muttering, "He's so handsome. I wish I could see all of his face."

It was a well known fact that Tori had an attraction to Mobians, so it was no surprise to Wolf that she would say something like that. It still managed to make him blush, but he knew he couldn't let himself get distracted by pretty faces. The city was full of thugs that would try to take him down at any cost. His ears pricked up when he caught a distant call for help. It sounded again before a distant gunshot rang out. Wolf knew he had to hurry. The voice was female, and he had a feeling that the gunshot was only a warning to get her to shut up. He couldn't have been any closer to the truth.

0

A pair of thugs had cornered a young woman, a pale violet-hued feline Mobian, and had dragged her into a nearby alleyway. One had a .44 Magnum Revolver, and his partner was armed with a stiletto switchblade. Both looked extremely dangerous, and quite drunk. The woman had managed to call for help twice, but the bandit with the revolver shut her up with a warning shot from the massive handgun. The one with the knife had her pinned to the wall hand had already unzipped her deep purple trench-coat. She knew what was coming next, as the bandit pinning her against the wall slid his switchblade up the front of her undershirt.

"You're a very pretty kitty, girl," he murmured into her ear. She could smell the strong liquor that had inebriated him on his breath. "You wouldn't want me to hurt your pretty little face, now would you?"

She was completely disgusted, biting back another scream of terror as she felt the blade of his knife slice through the fabric of her shirt. He didn't get any further than her midriff. A dull, slightly hollow sounding thud was heard, and his eyes rolled back in their sockets as he fell away from her. A heavy Bowie knife clattered to the ground next to him, thrown so skillfully that the grip had struck the bandit's skull, knocking him out cold.

A tall, cloaked figure dropped from the rooftops, landing with his back to the woman and the second bandit.

"You would do best not to harm innocent citizens," he said, a mechanical inflection heavily distorting his voice, "You do not want me to hurt you."

As this new figure turned, he drew a second knife from the sheath strapped to his chest. The bandit leveled his revolver at the cloaked figure and fired. The feline woman gasped as the mystery man spun and fell to his knees, dropping the knife. The gun-wielding bandit began laughing, but his mirth quickly became a choked sound of fear as the figure regained his feet and held his left arm out to the side. A light clinking noise could be heard as the bullet fell to the ground.

The bandit took a step back. "How in hell!? That's impossible!"

The cloak man chuckled, responding to his fearful victim's surprise. "Never underestimate the Dune Wolf. I don't play nice."

The fur on Wolf's arm turned silver, lying flat as it did so. The metallic virus spread until everything from his hand to his elbow was made out of silvery metal.

"Nano-metal," Wolf stated, "Perfectly mimics skin and bone. Unfortunately for you, it can also do this."

Wolf's glove ripped apart as sparks rippled down his arm and arced between his fingers. His fingers rapidly lengthened into steely tendrils, which he whipped out towards the bandit. They wrapped around his arm like chain lightning, reeling him in quite roughly and forcing him to drop his weapon. No matter how hard he struggled, the bandit could not break free. The last thing he saw was Wolf's fist rocketing for his face, and he relaxed as the strike knocked him unconscious as well.

"You're gonna be okay, ma'am," Wolf said as he dropped the bandit unceremoniously to the ground. His hand returned to its original form as he looked up at the woman he had saved. She was slightly shorter than him, though her feathery bun made her look a little taller. A small red gemstone adorned her forehead, glowing softly in the noontide sunlight. She was quite pretty, but had the look of someone who had lived a rough life and had grown up too fast. Though she appeared to be in her late teens, the coat, white leggings, and high-heeled shoes she was wearing made her appear to be older than she really was. She zipped up her coat, and nodded towards Wolf.

"Thank you," she said, "I could have defended myself if they had tried attacking at a different time, but they chose just the right moment to corner me. If it weren't for you, I would have been ravaged by them."

Wolf, on the other hand, was finding it difficult to speak. The woman looked rather familiar to him, and he was digging through his memories to remember who she was. He just couldn't quite grasp the memory he was looking for.

"It's not a problem, ma'am," he finally replied, giving up on his memories even though he knew that her face would bug him until he remembered where he had seen her before, "I'm always happy to help."

He gathered the two thugs and walked out of the alleyway. The young woman failed to notice that he had two tails instead of one, but tried to get his attention. "Wait, Dune Wolf! My name's…" he was gone before she could finish her sentence, "…My name's Blaze… Where'd he go?"

Blaze looked for him down both sides of the street, but he had vanished as quickly as he had come. She was confused. Something about him was vaguely familiar. Maybe it was the way he stood, or how he talked. She shrugged, turning and walking down the street. Unbeknownst to her, she had taken the path that would ultimately bring Wolf to her.

0

Wolf had dropped the two goons he had captured off at the police station, earning another bundle of cash and their weapons. Stockholm had long ago given him permission to confiscate any weapons he chose from the criminals he brought in, and he now had a very large arsenal ranging from small handguns to powerful laser weapons. Collecting weapons was one of his hobbies, and he would often take the weapons he acquired and customize them.

Now, he was walking through the desert, just outside the city. Once he had walked far enough to lose sight of the city behind several sand dunes, he leaped into the air and used his tails as a propeller to let him fly to his home. It took him little less than an hour to reach his 'oasis paradise' as he often called it, since he couldn't fly at super-sonic speed, and he knew that running would leave a trail for bandits to follow. However, he didn't need to worry… the place he called home was a massive stone plateau, but by some wonder of nature, had been carved into a bowl on the inside. The structure acted like a natural fortress battlement, and was further protected by a shell-like invisible force shield over the top that only Wolf could disable.

A freshwater spring, small but quite deep, was at the center of the basin. A small house had been built near this oasis, and several farm animals wandered around in a fenced in area that had a smaller spring in one corner.

Wolf touched down on his front doorstep, pulling a small ring of keys from his belt. Before he could get them to the doorknob, though, the door swung open and he was greeted by another Mobian. "So, the great Dune Wolf has arrived at his sanctuary," he said, a smug grin on his muzzle, "What'cha bring home today, 'Dune Wolf'?"

Wolf snarled at him. "Stop blocking the door, you idiot, or I'll shut you down. I created you, you know."

The other Mobian put a hurt expression on his face. "Aww, you don't need to be so harsh, mate. I was jus' kiddin'!"

"So was I, Nick."

Nicholas, or Nick, was Wolf's personal companion, a powerful computer AI that he had created to guard the oasis from intruders. His hologram generator allowed him to take on a physical form and let him interact physically with anything within the oasis. The holographic form was actually inspired by Doctor Van Goh from Star Trek Voyager, Wolf's favorite show.

Nick's current form was a raccoon. His fur was dark, warm grey, offset by pale blue rings around his arms, legs, and tail, with a matching mask around bright orange eyes. These markings glowed, and upon closer inspection would be revealed to be comprised of binary code. Why Nick liked to have such markings in any form he took escaped Wolf, and Nick would only answer "That's for me to know, an' for you to find out," whenever he was asked.

He wore a black tank-top with a crimson star on the back, baggy cargo shorts, and a pair of white sneakers with red and blue stripes across the top. A plain, white headband adorned his head. He spoke with a moderate Australian accent. Always a funny guy, he constantly cracked jokes. A more lifelike program would be impossible to find, especially because he was capable of actual emotion thanks to a very powerful nanotech brain. In fact, no one would ever know that he was a hologram unless they got close enough or were told as such.

He shook his head. "I seriously can never tell if yer jokin' or not, mate. I swear, it's that mask you're wearin'."

Wolf removed his cloak, mask, and goggles, hanging all of them on pegs by the door. Two lout pops were heard as he jerked his head from left to right, loosening his neck. The sound made Nick wince. Leaning backwards, Wolf crossed his arms behind his back and pressed them tight against his spine until it popped as well. Then he walked towards the kitchen, popping several other joints before he finally reached a slow-cooker on the stove. He lifted the cover and took a deep breath of the savory aroma of its contents. "Perfect," he murmured, turning the cooker off and grabbing a bowl, "I think I've got it this time."

As he sat down at the table with a bowl of the savory concoction, Nick came into the kitchen, waving a sheet of paper. "Telegram for one Miles Ethan Prower," he said, chuckling. It was really just a printout of an E-mail that Wolf had received while he was gone. Wolf snarled at Nick, who only laughed harder.

"How many times do I have to say it, Nick," he growled, "Never use my full name!"

It was true. Wolf was none other than Miles 'Tails" Ethan Prower, best friend and former teammate to Sonic and Knuckles. Only Chief Stockholm and Nick knew his real name, and Stockholm only used it in private.

Miles snatched the paper from his companion before it could be damaged, placing it on the dining room table to read it easily. However, after squinting at it for a few seconds he got up and smacked Nick on the back of the head. "Idiot… you printed it out in small font just to piss me off, didn't you."

He sat back down as Nick rubbed the back of his head, and pulled a pair of rimless glasses from a sturdy pouch on the back of his belt. Perching them on his muzzle, he read the message. It was from Sonic and Amy, who, although they didn't know where he lived, still kept in touch. The message brought tears of mirth to his eyes.

Hey, Bro. Sorry about not keeping in touch with you for so long. Amy and I just came back from our honeymoon, and we ended up coming back with more than we expected. Amy wanted to keep her pregnancy a secret, so I never told you. Now we've got two kids of our own, Susan and Charles. They were born shortly after we arrived in Hawaii, and boy are they a handful! I wonder who they got it from?

Anyway, Amy and I were wondering if you wanted to come over for a visit. We haven't seen you in ages, but we can't come visit 'cause you haven't told us where you live. Well, next time you get a chance, you should come visit.

Oh, by the way, Susan is the blue one in my arms, and Charles is sleeping in Amy's lap. Don't ask me why he's got gold quills… I don't know. The doc told us it was probably a latent gene, but you know how I am with science stuff.

A picture of Sonic and Amy, holding their kids, adorned the bottom of the page, and an address was underneath that. Miles chuckled, taking his glasses off and wiping away his tears. Apparently, they moved, he thought, heh… who would have thought that Sonic would become a father. I'm really happy for both him and Amy.

Nick shook his head. "Ahh," he sighed, "Two little bundles o' joy. If they're anythin' like their father, Sonic and Amy are gonna 'ave some real fun."

That comment earned him another slap upside the head. Miles chuckled almost cruelly as Nick fell over, holding the back of his head.

"Owch! 'Ey, wot was that for? I was jus' kiddin'!"

"Just be thankful I'm not shutting you down, Nicholas. Sonic's like a brother to me, and I think he's going to be a great father."

A quiet ringing noise from the living room interrupted them. Miles managed to reach the phone just before the answering machine kicked in. Only one person would call him over the phone. Stockholm. Nick tried to listen in on the conversation, but was unable to pick up more than what Miles said.

"Hello, Stockholm? Why are you calling me, when you know I stay home after six… this had better be…"

There was a long pause, followed by an audible gasp from Miles. "What? You're kidding me, right? Her name's Blaze? What does she look like?"

Another pause. "I-im-impossible… it can't really be… her…"

Miles put a hand on his forehead, gulping audibly before continuing, "Stockholm… I used to know her from a long time ago. Keep her there for me. No, she won't recognize my voice if I talked to her… I have to see her in person. I'll be right there."

He hung up the phone. Nick could easily tell that he was stunned from the conversation, but decided not to press the issue.

"Nick, you stay here. Do not follow me. No, don't ask questions… I'll tell you later."

Nick was confused, but before he could speak, Miles grabbed his cloak, mask, and goggles before dashing towards his bedroom. Nick followed behind despite what he had been told, and witnessed his companion pull out several books from the bookshelf, and punching a combination of numbers into the panel hidden behind them. The bookcase slid aside a few feet, revealing a passageway that Miles disappeared into. The hidden passage closed before Nick could follow any further.

"Why didn't I know about that," he murmured to himself, shaking his head.

Miles walked down a set of stairs that led into his sanctuary, an immense cave carved out by centuries of water flow from the spring before it took a different course. Besides some paneling added to protect the walls, the cave was completely natural. It was his workshop, the one place he knew he could go whenever he needed privacy, since Nick's Holo-matrix wasn't strong enough to project underground.

As if in a daze, the vulpine walked towards his latest project, which he had just recently completed. Blue and yellow metal gleamed in under the ceiling light. A double-tail emblem, his motif, was printed on the top fin, and the name Thunderstorm was printed on the sides of the upper two engines. Four more fins were arranged in an X formation. They were too short to grant flight, but were large enough to prevent the vehicle from losing control at high speed. The front of the vehicle was shaped like a drag racer, long and narrow, with a front spoiler. The saddle-like seat was situated towards the back, and resembled a motorcycle. The Thunderstorm was a sand-speeder, custom built from every spare part Miles could get his hands on.

Miles smirked as he put on his equipment and mounted the speeder. To him, it was like reuniting with an old friend. In reality, the Thunderstorm's main components were from the remains of his old plane, the Tornado. He had crash landed it in his oasis, but was fortunate enough to recover nearly all of his belongings. The plane, on the other hand, was too damaged to fly again.

The four jet engines roared to life at the flip of a switch. Miles smirk grew into a nearly feral grin as he revved the engines. A door opened in front of the bike with another switch, revealing a wide takeoff ramp. The vulpine twisted the throttle back, feeling the Thunderstorm lift from its resting place as the twin rows of boosters mounted on the underside fired up and pushed the machine into the air. Two more revs of the engines, and Miles took off with a wild howl of excitement, accelerating down the ramp and into the desert sunset.

Well, I am not making haste, or could it be haste is making me?
What's time but a thing to kill or keep or buy or lose or live in?
I gotta go faster,
Keep up the pace,
Just to stay in the human race!

His new machine was fast and powerful, and he continued to accelerate, the wind and engines roaring in his ears. His whoops and howls of excitement were drowned out by the noise.

I could go supersonic! The problem's chronic!
Tell me does life exist beyond it?
When I need to sate, I just accelerate,
Into oblivion!
Into oblivi-yah-yah-yah-yah-yah-ya-ahn!

Miles leaned forward, gripping the saddle-like seat with his knees. A wake of sand was being kicked up behind him, glittering like snow in the setting sun.

Well here I go again, everything is alien.
How does it feel to be outstripped by the pace of cultural change?
My deeds are senseless,
And rendered meaningless,
When measured in the vein!

The ground rushed by only a few feet below him. One mistake would prove fatal, as the machine would fly apart if it rolled, with him caught underneath, but he was exhilarated. Nothing would stop him.

I could go supersonic! The problem's chronic!
Tell me does life exist beyond it?
When I need to sate, I just accelerate,
Into oblivion!

He and his sand speeder were one being, just as it was when the Tornado was still around. He pushed the speeder to its limit, ripping through the sound barrier.

I won't lie, (Pace setters, go getters,)
It's exciting, (Rat racers, forget hers,)
When I try, (Researchers, berserkers,)
To decide things. (Strategies to help the workers.)
I just wanna live, (New time saving devices,)
Decently, (Quick vices, your crisis,)
Meaningfully, (Brevity, dependency,)
I'm in misery! (Digital efficiency!)

Miles thoughts began to drift towards the young woman he had saved. Her description perfectly matched the one that Stockholm had given him for the woman named Blaze. The Chief of Police had told him that she had arrived asking for 'Dune Wolf.'

I could go supersonic! The problem's chronic!
Tell me does life exist beyond it?
When I need to sate, I just accelerate,
Into oblivion!
Into oblivi-yah-yah-yah-yah-yah-ya-ahn!

Could it be true? Is it really… her? These thoughts echoed remorselessly through Miles' head as he rocketed towards the city, decelerating as the city came into view. At the speed he was going, he could shatter windows simply by passing them. He parked the speeder just outside the police station, shivering with anticipation as he entered the front door.

If I made a mistake with the lyrics to Supersonic, could someone let me know?

And yes, Nicholas does reference NICOLE. I did that on purpose.

Read and Review, Please!

(Gryff Falconheart)