At The End Of The Tunnel

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At The End Of The Tunnel

Co-Written by Harley Quinn hyenaholic and Froggy22651

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Froggy: All right. Third chapter, folks! This thing is taking off!

James: I hate you.

Froggy: Aw...why would you say something like that?

James: I know how you two sick maniacs works. You're going to make my life a living Hell!

Froggy: Oh, it won't be that bad, I promise. I just beat on you to show how much I care.

James: Then why don't you write a story about me relaxing on the beach of some tropical island surrounded by beautiful, naked women with a margarita in hand and the surf lapping at my feet? Wouldn't that just be a swell story?

Froggy: Let me think about it... no.

James: Damn you!

Froggy: Heh heh...anyway, I hope everyone enjoys this latest installment. Feel free tell me how good or bad I'm writing this thing.

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Chapter Three: Mission Predictable

James looked away from the mirror in annoyance. In a way, he wished there was something different about his face, some indication of the kind of horror he had endured. There were no scars from the brutal beating. His face was again flesh and blood. There weren’t even any signs of a decade of aging. But at least he was free, free to serve his kingdom again, free to live. Free to have his revenge. Someday.

The fox went about the business of preparing for a new day. He brushed his teeth, took a shower, and groomed his fur, all the while trying to clear his mind. He succeeded for the most part. Reaching into his closet, he removed his uniform and laid it out on the unmade bed. It consisted of three parts: the armor, the cloak, and the sword. The armor was a form-fitting dull gray suit with a medieval look to it. However, its ancient look was deceptive; the armor was made of lightweight, modern materials rather than plate steel. The floor-length black cloak was designed to clip to the armor. It could conceal the identity of the wearer, protect him or her from the elements, conceal or carry weapons or equipment, and had a wonderful psychological effect on enemies and friends alike. James usually kept the hood down and swept the cloak back like a cape.

The guardsman looked at the final part of his uniform intently: the sword. The main weapon of a guardsman, it too was a mix of old and new. The ornate broadsword was a formidable weapon in the hands of a master, such as the Captain of the Guard, especially considering the technology within. At the push of a button, the blade edge would vibrate rapidly at the molecular level, allowing the blade to cut through even dense materials with ease. It was his favored weapon for destroying SWATbots. It was also the weapon used to slay his family. He simultaneously loved it and hated it. It was symbolic of his soul, but it was also the tool used to wreck his life.

James turned away from the uniform and fixed himself breakfast. A clock on the wall indicated that it was 3:29 AM. He didn’t sleep very well. He ate his food in silence. For a moment, he tried to imagine the sounds of his children running up and down the hallways of his old home, the feel of his wife coming up behind him and embracing him warmly. His imagination wasn’t good enough; he still felt as lonely as hell. He no longer had a family. Well, almost. There was still the one survivor: Miles, or Tails as he preferred to be called. The son who he learned had somehow survived the coup. He knew for about nine months, and still had not confronted and revealed himself to his own son. He was ashamed to admit it, but he was afraid of that reunion.

Finished with his meal, James slipped into his armor and cloak. The fox walked out of his hut and into Knothole Village. The village had once been designed as a retreat for the Royal Family, a place to vacation and get away from the stresses of ruling a kingdom. Following Robotnik’s coup, it became the HQ of the most successful group of Freedom Fighters, led by the princess-in-exile herself, Sally Acorn. It was she who informed him of his son’s continued existence. The Captain of the Guard had many fond memories of her from before the coup. The king had assigned him to be her self-defense and wartime strategy teacher, to prepare her in case she ever found herself leading the kingdom into another war. Apparently, his teachings stuck with her. To James, she was also a friend as well as a successful student and princess, and he was honored to know her. He just wished she would someday have the peace that she deserved.

The sun had not yet risen and the village was still wrapped in the darkness of the night. Dark, cool, and calm, the morning provided the perfect sort of sensory deprivation for thinking. Thinking was the last thing that James wanted to do at 3 in the morning, especially following a nightmare. The fox made his way to the power ring pool and took a seat next to it. Thankfully, Antoine wasn’t there ‘standing guard’ as he sometimes did; James really didn’t want to deal with some cowardly wannabe guardsman saluting and generally hero-worshipping him.

The fox closed his eyes and meditated, trying to clear his mind and still it. It didn’t work as it usually did; his mind continued to wander to places he didn’t want it to go, to glass tubes and floors stained with blood… He shook his head and concentrated on the events of the last year and a half following the destruction of Robotnik’s failed Doomsday Project. With Robotnik believed to be dead, Snively took power over the empire his uncle had created and ruled it surprisingly well, causing much trouble for the Knothole Freedom Fighters. His rule was short lived, though; the tales of Robotnik’s demise were greatly exaggerated. The evil tyrant came back with a vengeance, determined to make up for his failure and crush the freedom fighters once and for all.

One of the doctor’s attempted grabs for greater power involved the floating island which the princess and the hedgehog hero, Sonic, had visited before. The island proved to be much larger and full of much greater secrets than either of them had guessed. It turned out that the massive floating landmass was home to a previously unheard of race of mobians known as the echidnas, who possessed an older and more advanced civilization then that of the Acorn Kingdom. Robonik invaded the island to obtain the ancient power source of the island, the Master Emerald, for himself, but was repelled by the combined force of the Freedom Fighters, the guardian of the emerald, and the echidna defense force. Despite the obvious threat of Robotnik, the echidnas refused to aid Mobius any further in the war, much to James’ disappointment and frustration.

Not everything had been doom and gloom. There was a silver lining to the floating island incident, namely the discovery of the long lost brother of Sally’s, Elias, prince of the kingdom and rightful heir to the throne, who had been living on the island since the Great War. Furthermore, the prince was the possessor of the legendary Sword of Acorns, a magical relic that was the key to freeing King Max from the Void, ending his exile. With Robotnik licking his wounds, the monarchy restored, the various freedom fighter groups in contact and organizing, and the last of the Royal Guard discovered, things were looking up for the good guys. But James didn’t feel the confidence he should. He didn’t feel any satisfaction from successfully completed missions. There was an emptiness in his life that he was unable to fill. Maybe he would not feel peace until Julian’s blood stained his sword. Maybe he never would.

James Prower sighed and got to his feet, giving up on meditation. Deciding to put his restlessness to some use, he drew his sword and went through practice drills over and over, refining and honing his skill in the way of the blade. It kept him focused, kept his mind away from the unpleasant truths of his life, kept his mind down a narrow path. He practiced for hours until the sun rose in the sky, not even noticing the passage of time.

“Can’t sleep either, I see,” a familiar voice spoke behind him.

James turned around, surprised that he hadn’t noticed the prince walking up behind him. He lowered his sword and bowed towards the squirrel reverently. Elias winced, and James knew why; the prince didn’t care much for ceremony or special honors. He preferred the way of an adventurer or hero, and honestly, the guardsman couldn’t blame him.

“Sorry, Elias. Force of habit,” James apologized, “No, I couldn’t sleep. Another nightmare.”

“You know, frequent nightmares often indicate a guilty conscience.”

James narrowed his eyes, “With all due respect your highness, I don’t feel guilty about anything.”

Elias didn’t seem so convinced.

“You shouldn’t beat yourself up over the coup, James. It’s not your fault, and it happened over ten years ago. You need to let it go, talk to your son…”

James gave the prince an annoyed look that clearly told him that the topic was off-limits. A nervous looking Elias took the hint and dropped the subject. Instead, he drew the sword that hung by his side and held it with the tip pointed at the guardsman, a small grin on his face.

“Then again, maybe some more practice will lighten your mood,” Elias said.

James couldn’t help but chuckle; he had taken on the role of dueling instructor for the young prince, and Elias had taken the role of student very well. The prince was a natural with a blade, and he apparently enjoyed it. James raised his own blade and tapped it against Elias’, an indication that he accepted the challenge.

“As you wish. A little practice couldn’t hurt.”

“Only if you let your guard down,” Elias said, a cocky grin on his face.

“You’ve been spending too much time around Sonic,” James replied with a chuckle.

The two of them started their practice duel with small, simple moves, not trying to exert themselves or try anything too complex. Elias was still a beginner in the ways of the sword, and using real swords for practice was dangerous even for experienced duelists. One mistake could lead to a fatal wound.

“What about you, Elias? Had trouble sleeping too?” James said between clashes.

Elias suddenly looked troubled, worry written all over his face.

“Yes. But I don’t want to talk about it.”

James knew what the problem was. Elias was worried about the increasing responsibilities being placed on him by his father. He was worried about being a future king, and James sure didn’t blame him. Elias had not been taught from birth how to be a leader, unlike his sister. He was never raised as a prince, and it disturbed the guardsman that his king was forcing the role on the boy. Sally was a better choice for rulership of the kingdom, and both of the duelists knew it. It wasn’t in James’ nature to question the wisdom of the king, but he knew that even Max wasn’t perfect. He made mistakes in judgment just like everyone else.

Like ignoring my warnings and insisting that Julian remain as the Minister of War…

James immediately scolded himself for such thoughts. Such criticism of his ruler was uncalled for. Yes, Max slipped up, but it was in the past. The damage was already done; all that could be done now was to learn from it.

You need to take your own advice, Prower.

James lowered his sword, closed his eyes, and shook his head, indicating that the match was over, “That’s enough for now, Elias.”

Elias, looking tired from the match, sheathed his sword and nodded. The prince’s fur was matted with sweat. The guardsman wasn’t even breathing hard.

“Do you feel any better?” Elias asked hopefully.

“Not really,” James replied truthfully.

The prince just nodded his head, his expression unreadable.

“Ok. Well, maybe a new assignment will keep your mind off of things. My father wants to see you about something, and I think it’s a special mission for you.”

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The king’s hut wasn’t particularly special, just a bit larger than the other huts and with guards posted outside the door. The village didn’t have much in the way of royal splendor, and nor did it have a highly trained group like the Royal Guard standing by. It was the best the village could do, and Max didn’t seem to mind. James approached the hut, the village around him finally beginning to wake up for another day. The guards at the door saluted him immediately, and he returned it half-heartedly, walking past them and entering the hut. They didn’t need to ask the Captain of the Royal Guard what his business was with the king.

James walked in and noticed that Max was already up, dressed in royal regalia, and sitting on his wooden, makeshift throne. He probably hadn’t slept much either. His face seemed aged more than the ten years since his exile, the guilt laying heavily on his mind. It was very lonely at the top. As James knelt and bowed his head before his king, he couldn’t help but think of how pathetic it all was: the hut, the wooden throne, and the attempt to make things like they once were. A mockery of his once proud kingdom.

“My lord,” James said as he raised his head, “For what business have you summoned me? Command me, and I shall fulfill it.”

The old king smiled and chuckled, gesturing for his loyal guardsman to stand up, “Oh, don’t be so formal, James. As my daughter would say, titles are meaningless here.”

The fox smiled and got to his feet, appreciating the bit of light-heartedness.

“I assume you have spoken to my son. Yes, I do have an assignment for you, my friend. One which I think you alone are suited to carry out,” the king said as he handed a folder to James with a few documents inside, “Read this later; it will have more detailed information and reports from the various groups that have encountered this new enemy…”

“New enemy?”

“Yes. I shall explain… Various scattered freedom fighter cells have been encountering resistance from a new group affiliated with Dr. Robotnik. From what we can tell, these are not the usual mercenaries that he employs. They appear to be religious fanatics of some kind, their actions being in the service of some sort of deity that they worship. They serve Robotnik in extinguishing resistance groups in exchange for weapons, equipment, cyborg implants, and… partial robotizations.”

James raised an eyebrow.

“Religious zealots with cyborg implants and partial robotizations? They sound rather like the Dark Legion that Knuckles has warned us about.”

“Indeed, they do,” the king continued, “But we have found no evidence of a connection between the two. No echidnas were witnessed among the cultists, and the Dark Legion has shown no interest in aiding Robotnik in the past. The similarities may just be a coincidence, but that is why I need you, James. I need someone to track down this cult to learn more about them and what it is they intend to do. They have been having an unsettling success in dismantling freedom fighter battalions, and I’m not willing to risk more of them. So I’m sending the best. I expect nothing but success from you, Captain Prower.”

James bowed and said, “I will not fail you, my lord.”

Max smiled. “I know you won’t, James. You never have before. Most of the reports of cult activity have come from southern resistance cells, close to the Great Desert. I suggest you start your search there. Get out there and show them what happens to traitors.”

James slowly ended the bow, turned, and left the hut to prepare for his mission. He assembled some basic supplies and weapons, stuck them in a backpack, and slung it over his shoulders. He would travel light and by foot. He had a hoverbike that could get him around fairly quickly, but faster wasn’t necessarily better in that sort of situation. Briefed and prepared, James slipped out of the village and left it far behind him as he hiked through the enormous forest, making his way towards the desert.

He welcomed the mission. Crushing robots was one thing, fighting Mobians that actually worked for Robotnik was another. Traitors. Criminals. Lunatics. Even if they were twisted and evil, surely they knew how insane it was to work for that tyrant; it would ultimately lead to their destruction, one way or another. What kind of greed, cowardice or desperation could drive someone to work for that monster? What was the motivation? What kind of life had to be lived to lead to such a thing?

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End Of Chapter Three

Harley: Let's go kick tail!

Breech: Reading about James is boring. I want to see more of me!

Harley: Okay, we get back to you soon. And you'll regret it when we do!