The night sky was alive with neon lights, flashing and blurring together. Stunned, I stare at the sky for a few moments, watching the billboards flash as the streetlights flicker and glitter. The streets are bustling with people despite how late it is, and cars whizz by on the road. From the dark alley I stand in, I feel like an outsider, a guest at a museum, looking through the glass into a foreign world. I'm almost concerned that if I breathe too hard the glass will fog up and I won't be able to see this amazing world anymore. I'd love nothing more than to immerse myself in this glowing and fantastical world, but I know that if I'm seen, it could be all over for me. What I need to do is to find an atlas, or some other form of map. Once I do that, I'll be able to find the quickest route from this city to The Heaven-Scraping Mountains. Slipping further into the shadows, I turn away from the open street and walk off, into the labyrinth of side streets and alleyways.

Sighing, I stretch and shake myself off. My foot splashes as I step on a puddle; looking down, I note that it's not one of water. "Hm?" Lifting my foot again, I blink down at it. A sudden metallic stench hits my nose--I didn't notice it earlier, since the city's full of people and scents and distractions, but I'm smelling blood, and lots of it. My stomach churns, and my eyes widen. "Where did all this come from...?" I whisper, looking around. A few feet away, there's another puddle, and then a splash of blood on the corner, with a bent and flickering street lamp marking the spot where someone was presumably smashed into the wall. Feeling sickened, I slowly and cautiously creep forward, adopting a defensive stance. As I turn, facing the alleyway with the stained corner, I see a streak of blood splattered on the pavement, leading down the street and ending behind a dumpster; a silhouette in front of it confuses me for a moment.

My eyes glitter as they adjust to the darkness, and I see someone standing there, looking down at whatever's crouched or seated behind the trash. I step forward, silently, my ears flicked forward. The silhouette is a human, and as I stalk down the alley they lash out with their leg, kicking out; as I approach, I can hear the human snarl, "Didn't you hear me, fuzzball? I said, gimme everything you got. Pay up!" They viciously rip out another kick; a groan issues from the person who I can't see quite yet.

"That's enough, don't you think?" I growl, lowering my head to look up at them, glaring.

They whirl around, stepping back slightly. "Who the hell are you? Stay outta this. It's just business." Their tone is rough, overconfident, but fear oozes from them. Intimidating them will be a piece of cake.

In an icy tone, I hiss, "I said, that's enough, don't you think?" Venom dripping from my words, I walk forward slowly. The streetlamp behind me flickers, fizzing with electricity; I know that my face is obscured by darkness. Perfect. Just the way I like it.

"Why do you even care?" The human snaps, nervous. Ignoring them, I step closer snd closer, only a few feet away by this point. They look back at their victim for a moment, and I speed up slightly while they're distracted, halving the distance before they can look back. Once they turn towards me, I drop my pace back down to what it was before; the result is a startled yelp issuing from them as they hop back a pace. 'H-How did he close the gap that fast?' Panicking, they ball their hands up into fists. "What are you, his boyfriend?" They sneer at me. "Playing the knight in shining armor? You goddamn f--"

Before they can finish their disgusting sentence, I lunge forward, unsheathing my claws--with a single swipe, I ruin their lefthand sleeve, a smug snarl flashing across my face as I watch blood spurt from the four scratches. The human screams, clutching at their wound, and for their efforts I punch them square in the face with my free hand, the clawed one reaching out to the ground to catch me. Staggering backwards, blood flowing freely from their now-broken nose, they stare at me with wide eyes. I let out an animalistic growl, crouched on the ground and baring my fangs, blood splattering my hand and they rapidly scramble away, petrified. I wait until they round the corner to turn and face whoever I just rescued; to my utter surprise, I come face-to-face with someone I never thought I'd see again.

"What tha hell did'ya do that for?!" The bright green hedgehog yells, getting up wearily and glaring at me.

Great, he's angry, too. "Hey, Scourge," I reply. "Didn't think I'd ever see you again, certainly not like this."

He shoves his face right up in mine, uncomfortably close, and grabs my neck with one hand. "Don't you's "hey Scourge"'s me, mista!" He screeches, still affecting that ridiculous accent. "I asked ya a question!"

"I didn't know it was you that he was whaling on," I answer smoothly, trying not to wheeze. Not only is he gripping my neck, he's panting in my face, and his breath is the worst thing I've smelled in a long time. "Let go of me."

The green troublemaker obliges, stepping back, and I look him up and down for a second, assessing the damage. His nose is bleeding profusely, and one of his eyes is so bruised it's swelled shut. His fur is stained with blood, his face all cut up and bruised, with blood oozing from his mouth, between his teeth; one arm is clutched to his side, and the sleeves of his jacket are even more tattered than the last time I saw him. In addition, two scars trace across his chest, and his sunglasses are gone. One leg hangs limply, and he supports himself on the other; his shoes are terribly scuffed and dirty too. He's also gotten a bit taller since the last time I saw him, and he looks a bit more grown-up--his cheeks have lost their childlike roundness, and his teeth look even sharper than before. Scourge's intense, icy blue eyes lock with mine, burning with cold fire as he snarls, "What'cha lookin' at me like that's for, asshole? It's weird!"

Startled, I blink. "You're in pretty rough shape," I remark, concerned. "We need to get you some help. Can you walk?"

"I ain't need no help," he hisses, "so just scram, Stripes." He plants his injured leg on the ground, grimacing in pain, and he tries to walk past me; he only gets about a step in before his leg crumples beneath him. Before he can hit the pavement, I catch him, the same way he did for me almost two years ago.

"Really, you need medical care." I say, hefting his weight easily onto my back, into the same position Rouge once held. "Just relax and hold on."

"Oi, put me down!" He crows, struggling to get off; in response, I tighten my grip on his legs, preventing him from falling off. "Put me down! This is a disgrace, I tell ya's!"

"Honestly," I sigh, beginning to walk down the street, "you're a real handful." Lifting my head a bit, I smirk. "Look, just think of this as settling a score, you know? After all, you carried me to that ship, do you remember?"

Scourge, above me, jumps a bit. "Hey, yeah's, I almost forgot dat!" He leans forward slightly, looking down at me. "How've things been for ya's? It's been, what, two years? Three?"

"Something like that," I shift position slightly to balance his weight. "How did you survive falling?"

"I could ask you's the same's," he responds, and I flick an ear. Why does he keep sticking random S's in his words? It's getting on my nerves. "I managed ta land's in tha ocean, but you? Ya didn't even have a ship ta land in, technically speakin's."

"I made it out all right," I answer evasively. "Got someone to patch me up and then I went on my way." An idea flashes through my head. "Say, Scourge..." I begin as I round a corner.

"Yeah, bro?" The lime hedgehog prompts, every bit as impatient as his brother.

"Do you happen to know how I can get to a mountain range called The Heaven-Scraping Mountains from here?" Hopeful, I look up, even though he's too far back for me to see.

"If I's had a map, maybe. Why?" Confusion swirls about him.

"That's where I'm going. Or, where I would be going, if I knew the way." I explain. "I'm trying to find some kind of atlas myself."

"Well, hey, I know's where you's could get an atlas!" Excitement enters his voice and the confusion ebbs away.

"Really?"

"Yeah! I'll show ya once I'm all stitched up 'n stuff. By the way, where are we goin'?" He crosses his arms on top of my head, resting his chin on them. For whatever reason, I don't even mind that he's messing up my hair. It was bound to happen.

"I figured I'd get to a main road and navigate from there."

"Wh-What are ya, crazy?!" He yelps, rapidly unfolding his arms to grab my hair, "I'm a wanted criminal! And ya ain't got so good a rep yaself!"

"Ow! Hey, quit it!" I shake my head and he lets go of my hair. "Jeez, sorry...I don't really know how this world works."

"What, were ya raised in a cave?" He snarls sarcastically.

"Ironically, yes." I retort. "Technically speaking, though, I was raised in several caves."

An awkward pause follows, and Scourge breaks it by snickering, "Well, that explains a lot. Look, lemme explain somethin's to ya, Stripes," he shifts position, crossing his arms on my cranium again, "people in this world, they don't like people like us. They don't like nobody who ain't on Sonic's side. And they ain't like people who jus' look out for themselves." He sighs, dropping his head down onto his arms. "Me, I do whatever it takes to get by, quick as I can. Sonic tells me I take the easy and nasty way out, but I ain't see it like that. I just look out for me, and only me, and so long as I'm alive, I'm fine." While he speaks in his usual offhand manner, I can feel a tinge of sadness behind those words. "That's all we ever did as kids, ya'know's? We just found different ways of survivin'. Never did see eye to eye," he exhales heavily. "He found strength in all his little buddies. I never had nobody to lean on, so I learned how to take the fastest way to get what I want. I knew it waddn't as noble a thing as his path, but I didn't care. 'N now, here I am, a wanted criminal at only eleven years old. We had ta grow up fast, me an' him. But that's just life here."

I bite my lip, trying to keep myself from pitying him. "I know how that feels," I mutter under my breath. From all that Robotnik did to me, and from all the things he made me do, I grew up in less than a year. When I was five, I was a kid. At six, a soldier, and before my tenth birthday I was a murderer.

"Do ya, Stripes?" He snorts. "Yeah, right." Sarcastically he snarls at me, mocking me. "Sure ya do. Robotnik's pet had such a rough life. Bein' pampered by the biggest bad."

His words spear through me like a knife, and I stop walking abruptly. "Shut up," I hiss in a dark tone. Surprise flashes through him, so I repeat it. "Just shut the hell up, Scourge. You don't know me. You don't know anything." Surprise, confusion and hurt blossom from him, and I continue down the street. After a long silence, I snap, "Direct me to your house, and I'll drop you off there," my tone curt and clipped.

"Alright." He responds, the fire in his voice gone. "Turn left here." The grass-colored hedgehog tries to point with his right arm, then winces, drawing it back close to him. I flick my ears, moving as directed, and I casually adjust position so that his right arm isn't hitting anything. Whoever attacked him hyper-extended it, I observe. He'll be feeling that in the morning, and perhaps even days after.

"Scourge," I ask quietly, "what was going on back there? Why did that human attack you?"

"Th-That's none'ya business!" He retorts sharply, and I can tell that such a subject is too personal for him at the moment, but I want to know anyways. "Eh, take a right here." He gestures with his other arm and I automatically turn.

"I could just drop you here and let you find your own way back..." I muse aloud, deliberately slowing down a bit.

"W-Wait, no," he clutches my fur and I stifle a yelp. "Alright, alright, don't do nothin' drastic here, I'll tell ya!" Smirking, I resume my normal speed; he's glaring at the top of my head, resentful, but underneath that I can tell that he's a bit impressed. "Look, the guy says I owe him money, but I awreddy paid 'im back, ya see? It's just, at the last minute he jacked up da price, and I didn't have enough." Frustrated, he clenches his fists. "So, he decided--oh, turn right here--'e decided that he oughta beat it outta me."

"That seems a bit harsh," I remark, delicately stepping over a puddle of oil.

"Ya tellin's me, Stripes." The shark-toothed hedgehog sighs. "It waddn't even a huge thing I bought from 'im, anyways--just an antenna, so I could get TV." Grumbling, he fidgets a bit, adjusting position. "He ain't even help me set it up, I had ta figure out how's ta do it m'self, an' it probs was illegal anyhowz." I didn't reply, chewing on the situation. What kind of a person would attack someone over a bit of wire? And who would even try and cross Scourge like that? The green hedgehog interrupts my thoughts, muttering, "I woulda really socked it to 'im, ya know, but I'm tryna keep a low profile, ya feel? 'N besides, I ain't had anything to eat in a while."

My ears prick, and I turn my head slightly, trying to look at him. "How long is a while, Scourge?"

"Ah, I dunno, a day or two?" He replies uncomfortably. " 'S not a big deal, I just gotta wait another day and my deal with a buddy of mine'll close." A braying laugh issues from him, startling me for a moment. "That'll have a lot of cash in it, yeah? Hahaha!"

"Why don't you get a job or something?" I query, confused.

"Tch, yeah, right, Stripes!" He cackles with laughter. "Who tha hell's gonna hire Sonic's evil twin to work's in their shop, huh? Nobody, das who." Thumping the side of my face gently, he tries to turn my head to the left. "'Ey, 'ey, my house is right there."

"Huh?" I blink at the run-down shack in front of me, startled. "You live here?" The walls are made of a rusted and cheap metal, the windows have been boarded up, and the door looks like it's barely hanging on the hinges. There's a tattered flag dangling from above the door; it's blackened with dirt and god-only-knows-what, so I can't figure out what flag it is. There's some rotten wood steps leading up to the door, and weeds run rampant through the dying patch of grass that is his yard. It looks to be completely abandoned; a piece from a crappy horror movie.

"It, uh, it looks betta' on the inside," he mumbles, feeling self-conscious. "It's a nice place, even if tha roof leaks sometimes."

"I'll take your word for it," I respond evenly, hiding my disgust at the place. "Can you walk to the door or should I carry you inside?"

"Put me down," he writhes, and I let go of his ankles so that he can move freely. "I's endured that embarrassment fer' long enough!" Dropping to the ground, he keeps his left leg, the injured one, from even touching the pavement, balancing unsteadily on his right. He looks over at the steps, biting his lip; he stands still for an awkward amount of time, staring at them.

"Look," I sigh, crossing my arms. "Let me at least help you inside, okay? Those steps look like they might give out on you."

"Keh, whatever," he snorts, turning his nose up, but I can tell that he's actually quite relieved at my offer. I put one arm around him, locking it underneath his as he puts his across my shoulder, gripping tightly; I support his injured leg between us, taking his weight easily. He hardly weighs much of anything, really, which is quite worrisome. He needs to get some food, somehow. "Uh, hey, Shadz?" The neon hedgehog begins, then stops as we start up the stairs.

"Yes?" I prompt, looking over at him.

Scourge won't meet my gaze. "Sorry about earlier...for bein' so flippant 'n all." Looking down and away from me, he flattens his ears. "It was an asshole thing to do."

"Hmph..." A smirk flashes across my face. "Did that guy hit you in the head a bit too hard? Apologizing really isn't your style."

"Bah, forget I said anything!" Scourge snarls, embarrassed. "You're goddamn unbearable, Stripes."

"Thanks, I try." As we reach the top of the steps I pause, looking at the door. A padlock and chain keeps it shut, at least from the outside; something tells me this neighborhood isn't the most secure place.

"Hang on a sec." Leaning down, he shoves aside the half-torn Welcome mat--upon closer inspection, I realize that it once said "WELCOME! Now kindly eff off." Biting my lip to keep from laughing, I watch as he picks up a key. Classic Scourge, of course, though I wonder how, exactly, he managed to find such an amusing mat in a store. Jamming it into the lock, he swears quietly, trying to open it. "It gets stuck real easy," he explains, leaning on me and panting.

He's exhausted, poor guy. "Here, let me..." Taking the key from his hand, I step up to the lock as he rests for a moment. The lock was indeed jammed, but within a few minutes I had it undone. "There." Pushing open the door gently, I support the punk hedgehog again, shutting the door behind me.

"Thanks, buddy," he wheezes, sitting down on his couch. I flick my eyes across the room, surveying the space; it's a small, cramped space, and dirty. The walls are a dull grey that may have once been white, and the rust shows through. The floor is a cheap dusty carpet, smelling musty. To my right, there's a kitchen of sorts, with an old oven and refrigerator combo and cheap pine cabinets. The couch is a musty-looking blue, and in front of it there's a positively ancient-looking television. It's a huge black box, with a curved grey screen--not one of the 1950's televisions with the peculiar knobs and dials, more along the lines of an early-90's TV. The model wasn't too terribly old, but the thick layer of dust coating it made it seem so.

Turning my attention back to Scourge, I frown. "You need to clean yourself up--you're still covered in blood."

He looks down at himself and grimaces. "Ah, yeah..." Hefting himself to his feet, he turns around, and I have to stifle a gasp. His back is torn to bits, the jacket tattered and useless, with deep scratches still oozing blood slightly. So that's where all the blood I saw on the pavement and walls came from... Horrified, I clench my hands into fists. Who would do something like that, for such a trumped-up reason? This city isn't beautiful at all--the beauty is just a thin veneer to hide how ugly its true nature is. It must be hideous, if people like that exist here! The bright green hedgehog shuffles awkwardly over to a doorway I hadn't noticed earlier; pausing, he looks over his shoulder, calling out to me, " 'Ey, I got home safe, you can go ahead and leave."

"Hm?" I blink. "Oh, right." Nodding, I turn back to the door. "See you around, I guess?"

"Feel free to drop by anytime," he replies flatly, sounding insincere. Before I can respond, he shuts his door, leaving me alone in his main room. Guess I'd better get going, then, I muse, opening the door before me.

I step out the front door, gently shutting it behind me. A small smile dances across my face. "Even if it was an insincere offer," I lower my head, running my hand down the plastic door, "I'll be taking you up on it."