The bunker shivered beneath the distant tremor of explosions, and the low rumble of the city twisting itself into chaos and anarchy echoed like a funeral march through the reinforced steel walls. Emergency lights flickered intermittently, each flash illuminating the tension that had set itself deep into their bones. Sally paced along the edge of the command table, fingers trailing along the holographic map of Mobius that hovered in the room. The smoke-and-fire-tinged map had been continuously updated by our sensors, now showing vast swaths of District 3, the harbor, and parts of the city core reduced to rubble, twisted metal, and flames.
Patch leaned against the wall, arms crossed, one ear twitching nervously at every distant roar and metallic groan from the city above. Buns sat cross-legged on the floor nearby, methodically cleaning her blades, even though the blades had seen little mercy themselves during the earlier patrol. Boomer, standing near the reinforced bunker door with his rifle slung over his shoulder, kept glancing outside, ears flicking at every distant crackle and gust of wind, hands twitching as though waiting for an invisible trigger.
None of them had words. Not yet. The sheer magnitude of the fight between Sonic and Master Maximillian had left them dumbstruck. Even down here, insulated from the raw spectacle by reinforced walls and layers of monitoring equipment, they felt the pulse of every blow. The seismic tremors, the explosive bursts of energy, the very air above them—charged and vibrating with the power of the Anarchy Beryls—spoke more clearly than any voice could.
Finally, Sally broke the silence. "He's… insane," she muttered, jaw tight. Her hands fidgeted with the edges of her jacket. "I've never seen anything like this before. Sonic—he's barely holding on."
Patch grunted, ears flicking toward the ceiling. "You think we'd better… wait it out? Let him tire the bastard first?"
Buns shook her head without looking up from her blades. "Waiting's a luxury we don't have. You heard the static on the comms from Sector 4? Civilians—they're trapped. Fires spreading. Collapse. It's not slowing down up there, and neither are *they*."
Boomer's tail flicked with impatience, his eyes dark under the dim emergency lights. "Yeah, waiting's fine if we don't care about who's left alive in two hours. Master Maximillian isn't just fighting Sonic. He's tearing the city apart."
Sally stopped pacing and slammed her hand onto the command table, making the holographic map flicker violently. "Exactly. And the longer Sonic's tied up up there… the worse it's getting down here. Buildings collapsing, people trapped, infrastructure shredding itself… If we do nothing, we're letting him turn Mobius into—" Her voice broke off, caught in the weight of the word *wasteland*.
Patch rubbed the bridge of his muzzle. "And what? You want us to go up there and just throw ourselves at him? We're not… we're not Sonic. Not yet, anyway."
Buns finally looked up; her face hardened. "We don't have to be him. But we *do* have leverage. We know the castle. We know the layout. If we can get inside, disrupt his base of operations… distract him… maybe even give Sonic the edge he needs. And hell, maybe we save some civilians along the way."
Boomer's claws flexed around the grip of his rifle. "You mean raid Castle Acorn? Go in there, when the guy upstairs is literally bending reality with a flick of his wrist?"
"Exactly that," Buns said calmly, like she was discussing which side of the knife to sharpen. "We don't go in blind. We hit the command nodes, the security systems, the supply caches. Hit the infrastructure that keeps his castle running. We make his space unstable. And if he's distracted by us tearing it apart underneath him… well, that's *our* distraction. And maybe the kid upstairs gets a chance."
Sally's eyes flicked toward the holographic display, tracing the jagged lines of the city's ruined grid. She could see the glowing pulse of Master Maximillian's fight zones, almost like veins feeding into the castle. The crown of destruction above the central district seemed to emanate from one epicenter: Castle Acorn itself. She swallowed hard, gripping the table. "And we *know* the castle?"
Patch tilted his head, snorting. "Know it better than he thinks. Secret passages, service tunnels, old maintenance shafts—places the original engineers never expected anyone to use. You want to move *inside* the lion's den, we have to be ghosts. Silent. Surgical. Precise."
Buns nodded approvingly, still sharpening her blade in slow, deliberate strokes. "And deadly, if it comes to it. Castle Acorn has been waiting for this moment, hiding in its walls, and we don't have time to negotiate with centuries of cunning masonry and rogue defense systems. Every trap we avoid, every drone we disable, every locked door we bypass… that's time Sonic doesn't have to worry about staying alive."
Boomer let out a low whistle, tapping the side of his rifle against the floor. "Sounds… dangerous. I mean, really dangerous. We could die. All of us. Just trying to make a dent in a guy who made Sonic look like a cornered pup."
Sally exhaled sharply. "And what do you propose, Boomer? We sit here while the city burns? While Sonic fights for his life against a *godlike maniac*? I'm sorry, but that's not us. We don't have the luxury of fear."
Patch finally pushed off the wall, stretching his legs and flexing his claws. "She's right. Fear isn't going to save anyone up there or down here. If we do nothing, all of this"—he gestured broadly to the crumbling city depicted on the hologram—"is just going to turn into rubble and ash. And not just the city… the people too."
Buns finally stood, sliding her blades back into their sheaths with a metallic *click*. "Then it's settled," she said. Her voice had an edge of finality that made the room feel heavier. "We're going in. Castle Acorn. Tonight. And no hesitation. We take the tunnels. Hit the weak points. Cause chaos. If Maximillian's occupied with Sonic, we'll get in, accomplish our objectives, and get out."
Boomer's ears flicked nervously. "And civilians? What about them?"
"We keep them in mind," Sally replied, glancing at the map. "Evacuate the ones we can reach without blowing our cover. Every second we delay Maximillian's plans helps them. But we can't let compassion slow us down. Not if he's tearing the city apart."
Patch exhaled, shaking his head. "We've got the tech, we've got the routes, and we've got the firepower. It's just… guts and timing now. And a little luck."
Sally gave him a sharp look. "Luck is for fools. We have planning, preparation, and precision. If luck shows up, it's just a bonus."
Buns smirked, unsheathing a small blade and spinning it lazily in her fingers. "Precision, yeah. But a little chaos never hurt, either. Might even make things more interesting for Sonic."
Boomer nodded, finally showing a trace of resolve beneath his jittery exterior. "Alright. Then it's decided. We hit the castle. Distract Maximillian. Tear things apart. And maybe… just maybe… keep Sonic from getting crushed under all that purple fur and spikes."
Sally looked at each of them in turn, her expression sharp, commanding. "Get your gear ready. Communications check. Weapon systems check. Recon equipment. Thermal, motion, and structural scanners. If we're going in, we're ghosts, shadows, and whispers. No mistakes. If anyone dies, it's because they *chose* to make a mistake."
Patch gave a short laugh, rubbing his ears. "You're starting to sound like Sonic."
"Good," Sally said firmly. "He's the example we follow tonight. Adapt. Improvise. Survive."
The room fell silent again, each of them absorbed in thier preparations. The city groaned above them, tremors shaking the bunker floor with each distant explosion. They worked quickly, double-checking equipment, testing scanners, aligning communications. Every second mattered. Sonic was out there, fighting a god made of stolen divinity and parasitic energy, and their intervention could tip the scales—or leave the city in irreparable ruin.
Maybe both for all they knew.
Boomer was the first to speak, voice low, almost a whisper. "How do we get in without getting fried?"
Buns looked up from her knives, a grin twisting across her face. "Old service tunnels, hidden maintenance lifts, emergency shafts. Castle Acorn isn't even close to being new—it's centuries old. They planned for protection from invaders, but they didn't plan for ghosts who know the blueprints like the back of their paws. Not ones as small as us anyhow. We need stay out of sight, hit the weak points, and we're in before he even knows we exist."
Patch flicked his ears, skepticism clear. "You sure those tunnels are even structurally sound? Parts of the city are collapsing from just him moving around."
Sally shook her head. "Some risk is inevitable. But a careful route, mapped and rehearsed… we can make it. And if anything goes wrong, we improvise. We're not reckless—we're adaptive. And we're not alone. Sonic is still out there. He needs breathing room, not more enemies."
Boomer loaded his rifle, checking the thermal scope and motion tracker. "I've got the heavy weapons. Anyone comes near us, they'll regret it."
Buns slung her pack over her shoulders. "I'll handle the close-up work. Breach doors, take out traps, anything that tries to slow us down. If the castle throws itself at us, we throw it back."
Patch rubbed his palms together. "And I'll cover our exit routes. Make sure Maximillian doesn't catch us by surprise from above while we're in the tunnels."
Sally nodded, satisfied. "Good. Then it's set. Castle Acorn won't know what hit it. Let's move fast, move smart, and stay alive. Sonic's counting on us… whether he knows it yet or not."
The four of them exchanged a glance that carried the weight of everything we'd been through—the deaths they had seen, the friends they had lost, the city hanging by a thread. Then, without another word, they moved toward the reinforced doors leading to the service shafts, every step calculated, every motion precise.
The world outside was chaos incarnate. Fires burned in impossible places, rivers flowed over streets, smoke swirled like phantoms through the air. Somewhere above, Master Maximillian's wrath was tearing the city apart, and Sonic was holding his own against a force that could bend reality with a flick of a wrist.
And they were about to dive straight into the mouth of the lion itself
The doors hissed open, revealing the narrow, dimly lit service shaft. Dust and stale air clung to them as they slipped inside, silent as shadows, ghosts among the wreckage. Sally led the way, scanner in hand, eyes glowing faintly in the low light as she navigated the twists and turns of the old infrastructure.
Patch followed, scanning constantly, ears twitching to every vibration, every echo, every subtle shift in the metal walls that could betray a hidden security system or trap.
Buns carried the rear, her blades ready, senses tuned to the slightest anomaly.
Boomer stayed close, rifle raised, every muscle coiled, ready to unleash destruction if any castle defense caught up to us in the tunnels.
Minutes stretched. Hours seemed to warp. The hum of distant energy, the crackle of fire above, the occasional rumble of collapsing stone below—they became a rhythm we moved to, silent and precise.
And as the shadows swallowed us, the plan solidified: they would infiltrate Castle Acorn, disrupt the Anarchy Beryls' support systems, create diversions, rescue anyone we could, and—most importantly—give Sonic the margin he needed to survive.
Every step forward was a step into the unknown. Every corner turned, a chance to die. But for once, fear was useful. It made them sharp. Made them *alive*.
And with that thought, the four of them disappeared deeper into the bowels of the castle, moving like whispers, shadows, and the promise of chaos and anarchy.
The service shaft ended in a rusted hatchway, its edges corroded from years of neglect. Sally's claws traced the metal rim as she tested it for traps or pressure triggers. "Looks clear," she muttered, tugging the hatch open slowly. A rush of stale, warm air hit them—the scent of machinery, dust, and faintly burnt circuits. Not clean, not sterile, but untouched. Just the way they liked it.
Patch slipped through first, ears twitching, eyes scanning for any security measures. "Keep it quiet," he whispered. "If anyone's guarding the castle's inner ring, we don't want to announce ourselves."
Buns followed, blades sheathed but ready, senses alert for hidden mechanisms or patrols. Boomer lingered at the rear, rifle angled, tail flicking nervously as he checked the overhead girders.
The corridor beyond the hatch was narrow and claustrophobic, lined with pipes and conduit that hummed faintly with residual power. Sparks occasionally leapt from worn connections, casting jagged shadows across the walls. Every step was deliberate; every breath measured. The castle seemed alive beneath their paws, groaning and shivering as though aware of their intrusion, the distant echoes of Sonic's battle vibrating through the metal floors.
Sally led them in silence for several minutes, mapping the corridors in her head as she went. "This is the service ring," she whispered. "If we stick to these shafts, we can bypass the first three floors of defenses and hit the control nodes on the fourth."
Patch's ears twitched toward a faint hum of machinery. "Control nodes… those are heavily guarded, right?"
Buns smirked. "Yes. And they'll notice the missing power in seconds. That's our cue to disappear."
They moved like shadows, silent and precise. The castle's interior was a strange mix of ancient architecture and high-tech security—ornate stone arches decorated with gold filigree interlaced with energy conduits and surveillance cameras. The building groaned under the strain of the battle above, each tremor reminding them that the fight outside wasn't contained.
They continued throughout the catacombs of Castle Acorn, pressing deeper into the bowels of the structure—each step bringing them closer to the heart of King Maxx Acorn (now Master Maximilian)'s power. The walls pulsed with an unnatural violet glow, veins of corrupted Beryl energy spiderwebbing through the stone like infected roots. Sally's ears flattened against the hum resonating through the metal beneath their feet—a sound that wasn't quite sound, more a pressure against the skull, a vibration that made teeth ache and fur stand on end.
This wasn't just a fight—it was also a demolition. The castle shuddered underfoot as Master Maximillian's laughter reverberated through the stone, each syllable laced with the weight of stolen divinity.
But that didn't fully matter to the young quartet now, because below their feet, the floor *moved*.
It wasn't a quake—not the way Mobius shook under Master Maximillian's current anarchic tantrum—but a deliberate, mechanical *shift*. A section of the corridor's wall slid back with a whisper of grinding stone, revealing an arterial passageway veined with pulsating Beryl conduits. The air inside smelled of ozone and something older, metallic, like rusted blood. Sally's nose wrinkled.
She knew this scent.
She knew it from the war rooms, from the archives, from the deepest vaults of Castle Acorn where no living soul had tread in centuries. The scent of old schematics and decaying power cores, of forgotten machinery left humming in the dark. The passage ahead wasn't just hidden—it was *forbidden*. The kind of place Maxx would've sealed with more than stone if he'd remembered it existed.
Although given everything that was happening right now,... maybe he actually wouldn't.
Patch's claws scraped against the conduit-lined wall as he pressed forward, his breath shallow. "This isn't on any map," he muttered, pupils dilating in the violet-tinged gloom and the fact he knew his parents would be in the castle.
The Beryl veins pulsed in response, their rhythm syncopated like a dying heartbeat.
Sally traced the jagged glyphs carved into the conduit walls—echidna script, half-eroded by time but still pulsing with residual energy. The symbols twisted under her fingertips like living things, their meaning lost to anyone but the ancients who'd forged this path as both sanctuary and snare. Ahead, the corridor narrowed into a throat of blackened steel and fractured Beryl, its glow throbbing in time with the distant thunder of Sonic's spin-dashes against Master Maximillian's reality-warping blows.
Every step deeper into the corridor carried the weight of a tomb. The air thickened with the scent of scorched metal and something darker—burnt fur, maybe, or the ozone-tang of overcharged Beryl. Sally's claws skimmed the wall, tracing grooves where the stone had melted and re-fused into glassy seams. The castle wasn't just crumbling under Master Maximillian's rage; it was *remembering*. The walls here pulsed like a living thing, veins of corrupted Beryl throbbing in time with the distant, shuddering impacts of Sonic's fight.
They continued on through the castle's corridor to the throne room.
And soon they all came to one of the many, many, many doors that lead to the throne room.
This was it.
Their first true battle.
Not training with Sonic or in the training simulator room.
Not catching one person off guard.
"Well then,... here we go then."
The throne room doors slowly as Boomer carefully slid them open—just enough to slip inside—and the scent of scorched ozone and molten metal slammed into them like a physical blow. Sally's vision swam for a heartbeat, her lungs seizing at the sheer density of corruption in the air—Anarchy Beryl energy thick enough to taste, laced with the metallic bite of spilled blood and the sour tang of ruptured organs.
"Surprise Darlings!" Buns' voice cut through the throne room's oppressive atmosphere like a knife, her twin blades already flashing violet in the Beryl-tainted light as she lunged—not at Maximillian, but at the pulsing control nodes along the walls. The reaction was instantaneous: conduits ruptured in showers of sparks, machinery screamed like dying animals,
Then there were the people that were in the throne room itself:
Queen Aleena Acorn.
Prince Elijah Alexis Acorn.
Mary D'Coolette.
And who else just also just so happened to be walking slowly in the throne room as well from the lacking medical wing and was mumbling and complaining to no one in particular but Amadeus Power himself?