Chapter Text
The sun began to rise, cascading light through the trees creating a slow, rhythmic dance between light and shadow. The soft morning breeze rustled the trees, which along with the trilling song of the morning birds created a musical concert to bring in the new day.
The early morning chill tickled his nose as he moved it out from under the blanket, the tip twitching as the scents from the forest caressed his nose. Large ears turned forward towards the opening of his abode, taking in the early day sounds. This was the favorite part of his day. Before scrounging and hiding. In front of sneaking and flared nerves there was the calm of morning where his shoulders were relaxed and and his breaths regular. He knew it wouldn’t last, but relished the calm he could achieve.
Piercing blue eyes peaked from under the tattered covers, causing the blanket to slide from his head and settle around his shoulder. He pulled the blanket around him, cutting out last whisps of early chill. The blanket was a lucky find. He found it shoved into a trash bin beneath wrappers and old food. As he had been picking through to find an adequate meal, he had come across the quilt, fraying at the corners with a few holes within the fabric. He had cried the day he found it. He would no longer have to keep warm under forest underbrush and leaves. And after a few washes in the near by stream, the smell had faded, replaced with natural scents of mineral and pine.
He sat under the blanket for minutes, enjoying the calm ambience of morning. Eventually he reached for a near by device, scooping it up in his small hands and cradling it within his palms. It had taken him months to put this together. He spent countless hours scavenging for unused parts and thrown out bits and bobs. Thrown out appliances, a wrecked video box, old radios and searching through beat up vehicles all became objects of his interest. He would forage and search for countless hours, bringing all of his findings back to his humble shelter.
Even at the early age of five to six (he wasn’t sure but based on his calculated age at the orphanage and his sense of time and sharp memory lead him to this conclusion) he knew that his brain worked differently. He could make sense of things others couldn’t. He would read any abandoned book he could find, bringing each back to his home keeping them safe like a dragon protecting gold. At the orphanage he had taught himself to read, fluent by the age of three. He couldn’t get enough of the written word, drinking in every chance at learning new things. Eventually he began to be pulled to instructional books. How to build a toy, how to refurbish house hold items. The idea that he could build and create fascinated him. His brain began to swim with ideas and designs that posed endless possibilities.
By the age of five he began to build his own inventions. Small at first, but as his brain and knowledge continued to expand he began to reach higher and higher. After many months he finally had been able to put together his best invention yet. He could read the weather, read and hack the wide range of information available, he could track and scan, he could survive.
Small hands fiddled with the dials, the small yellow device waking from slumber, the screen lighting up with artificial light. A faint smile quirked at the corner of his mouth as he watched his best invention whir to life. He opened up the scanners and pointed the wired top toward the opening of his small burrow. A few flashes and it read out the upcoming weather of the day before him. Warm with rain clouds on their way. The perfect weather for foraging.
He found, through experience, that plundering was best done under the cover of rain. Most people would be inside the avoid the moisture, opening up opportunities to sift through food and parts. He would just need to wait until the clouds moved in, then he would be able to make his way through the near by town more safely.
“Thank you, Miles Electric.” he chirped at his own invention. “You are always so helpful.”
He stepped the rest of his way out of his blanket, taking the treasured item and folding it carefully, tucking it out of sight in a safe place. He stretched his arms, a large yawn escaping him, his small sharp teeth fleetingly on display. He rubbed his hands over his arms, bringing warmth to his skin, then stepped out into the forest. It was time to find something for breakfast before making his trip to the town.
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The rain pelted off his coat, rapid fire as it fell from the sky. The clouds that brought the rain were a deep grey, blocking most of the sun from view. It was a wet and dreary afternoon. He wanted nothing more than to curl up in his shelter, hugged by his blanket, and reading one of his books. But he couldn’t pass up the opportunity to pick through the town.
The streets were mostly empty, the rocks and dirt that composed the town paths flooding with mud. Miles took a moment to plan his path as he took in the homes and shops within view. He would need to stay under the cover of the clouds. He knew if he was seen he would be run out of town. The grown ups would throw things at his back as he ran to the trees. And the other kids…well, he wanted to avoid them most of all.
No one wanted the freak, two tailed fox to be a part of their town.
It was something he understood and had learned to accept. He was different, born with an extra appendage that brought him trouble where ever he went. The villagers looked at him as trash. The town was small and close knit. Everyone knew everyone and no one had the room or heart to take in the two tailed kit that escaped the orphanage and roamed the surrounding forest. Not even his own parents.
From what he could tell they left in shame after giving birth to a freak like him. Some people say they were too ashamed to ever show their face in the town again. Others said they looked at his two tales and became so disgusted that they sailed away to a far off place, never to be seen again.
This cruelty was something he expected. It was something that he had become accustomed to, causing him to leave the village and live in hiding to escape it. He understood in a way…people fear what they do not understand. But it didn’t stop the tears on lonely cold nights.
He put up a small hand to block the pelting rain. The shop on the corner had some good, clean food that had been trashed last week. He had eaten well for a few days after pillaging the abandoned fare. A good of place to start as any. He lowered his hand and tightened the strap of his bag across his chest and made his way forward.
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Miles’ tails swayed gently from side to side in excitement as he picked and collected parts from a tossed appliance in the back of a local yard. It was still in good shape and still had many pieces he could use for some of his newest ideas. His head was down, eyes locked on the next part he was after. He had slid his bag across his back, the weight of his finds pressing into his back.
It had been a good haul. He had found found some tossed steak from the restaurant down the street and had even found a half eaten chocolate cupcake. His eyes had lit up when he saw the pastry tucked down under wrappers and napkins. It was pretty fresh, maybe only twelve hours old. And he had only needed to pick a few pieces of muck off the top! He had eaten it almost immediately, enjoying every bite of the sweet bit of treasure.
After, he had hit a few more back allies, finding some bags of half eaten chips, a questionable plate of potatoes (he would need to sniff those with more care later), and now he found himself pulling a good haul of nicks and knacks from an old, burnt out appliance. He was almost done, just wanting a grab a few more pieces before he snuck away into the surrounding forest.
His top teeth bit at his lower lip in his concentration as he unscrewed a mother board from the interior. A great find, one he had been looking for a while.
“What are you doing?”
Miles froze, every muscle going taught as the disgusted voice crossed his ears. His pinna flattened and his heart stuttered. Butch.
“Looks like he’s stealin’, that’s what.” Another voice sneered. Rocky. Butch’s side kick and partner in crime.
Tails let out a breath. His mind began to race at being discovered by the worst of his bullies. These two boys were at least a few years older than him. And they seemed to have made making Mile’s life a living nightmare their own personal aspiration.
“I thought we told you not to show your face around here anymore.” Butch growled.
“Yeah, we don’t need any freaks in our town.” his toady followed.
Miles swallowed hard. He knew better to answer. To quip back or try to explain. His words just made things worse. Instead he began to plan an attempt at escape. Let the older boys yell and huff at him. It gave him time to come up with a plan.
“Hey! We’re talkin’ to you!” Butch yelled, kicking the side of the appliance and making the small kit hold in a yelp of fear. He took a deep breath. He needed to hold it together. He needed to be calm.
“Yeah!” Rocky added, voice dripping with malice. “You gonna say somethin?”
Miles blew air slowly through his nose. He tucked his tails close and swallowed back his building anxiety. His tiny gloved hand began to slowly reach for the bag across his chest in search of anything that may help him get away. His fingers quickly and subtly moved through the items. The leftover meat, a few stray wrappers, his Miles Electric. There was nothing that moved past his fingers that he could use. His heart rate began to climb as his paws continued to come up empty.
Then something wet, almost mushy hit the tips of his fingers. The potatoes. He let out a huff, pulling the food into the palm of his hand.
“Come on little freak.” Butch egged. “Show us your tears.”
Miles clenched his eyes closed letting out a slow breath through his nose. It was now or never. He pulled his hands from the pouch, feeling the potatoes dirty his gloves. He pulled in a big breath, then in a flash he turned, launching the potatoes at the other boys eyes.
They yelped, letting swear words fly as they began to rub at their eyes to rid them of the rotten specks of food. Miles didn’t waste another moment. He tightened his hands around his bag and took to the air, spinning his tails in a panicked flurry. He darted forward, aiming for the cover of trees.
His heart was hammering in his chest, breaths coming short as he escaped. The trees weren’t far, he just wasn’t sure if he got enough of a head start. After a moment he finally let himself turn back, seeing nothing or no one behind him in pursuit.
He let out a short breath of relief, his muscles relaxing every so slightly. He was going to make it.
He turned his head back forward and was immediately knocked from the air by a hard, unexpected hit. He rolled, losing his flight and hitting the ground hard. His shoulder connected with the wet ground underneath an he slid, mud kicking up around him as he crashed.
He gasped for air, trying desperately to get his baring. What had happened? He rolled over slowly, groaning as he pushed himself to his knees.
A hand grabbed the strap of his bag as it crossed over his back. He was pulled up, his feet leaving the ground as he was lifted forward. As his body turned he was face to face with an angry Butch. His eyes were red and irritated and he had specks of potato and grease in his hair. Miles’ eyes widened in fear as he faced his bully.
“You think that was funny?” the older kid spat, his face so close that spittle rained on Miles’ fur. “You thought you were going to get it bad before? Now you’re dead.”
Miles began to wiggle, his legs kicking through the air and body squirming as he tried to free himself from Butch’s iron grip. All that earned him was the older boy tightening his hand, claws digging into Miles’ skin. The kit’s ears flattened and face grimaced at the pain.
“What’re we gonna do with him?”
Miles’ blood ran cold. Rocky had caught up too?
“I dunno.” Butch started, a sneer forming over his lips. “But it’s gonna hurt.”
“Don’t!” Miles begged, continuing to squirm and kick in desperation. “Please…leave me alone!”
“You wish.” Butch spat.
He lifted Miles further in the air, then slammed the kit to the ground on his belly. Miles lost his breath at the contact with the ground. Before he could catch his breath the bigger kit was on him, pinning him to the ground.
A hand grabbed the back of his head and pushed his face into the puddle of mud underneath his body. Miles held his breath and clenched his eyes as his face was submerged in the watered down dirt.
Suddenly the pressure behind his head let up and he lifted his head, gasping for air as the boys above him laughed manically.
“Look!” Rocky laughed. “The mud makes him look better.”
“I dunno.” Butch countered. “There isn’t enough mud in the world to get rid of that extra tail.” A growl left the older boys throat. “You are such a freak.”
Miles face was pushed back into the mud. Tears began to mix with dirt as pain and panic began to escalate. His head raised again when the pressure disappeared and as he gasped for breath he couldn’t hid the desperate sob that escaped his throat.
“Oh, look, the baby’s cryin!” Butch laughed, his claws tightening at the back of Miles’ head. “That’s right…cry.”
Miles tried desperately to hold in his distress, but the fear building within his core made it difficult to keep a straight head. His breaths came out short and labored as fear overwhelmed him.
“Ya know?” Butch started as he stared down at the kit below him. “We could fix up this little freak.”
“Nah, he’s too broken.” Rocky answered, a bark of laughter escaping his throat.
“I dunno.” Butch continued, his voice turning a dangerous shade. “My pop’s gotta knife. Real sharp. We could cut one off, see how he likes it.”
The kit’s fear spiked at the bully’s words and he began to fight and wiggle beneath the older boy’s body. His movement earned him another push into the mud. He came up sputtering, tears spilling freely.
“Please!” he begged. “Please, let me go…”
“What is going on?”
A new voice filtered to his ringing ears, deeper, sharper, and holding a hint of malice. A voice he had never heard before. Miles’ heart sped, his breaths getting caught in his throat. Another being was here and he sounded even more scary than the other two. He began to truly fear he was not going to make it out of this.
“Back off, weirdo…” Butch yelled, his head turned to gaze over his shoulder. “Mind your business!”
“Wish I could.” the deeper voice answered. “But if you are going to act without honor, it is my duty to step in.”
A cackle left Butch’s voice at the words and Miles felt the weight over his back shift as the boy turned his body to face the new comer.
“Oh, yeah?” he spoke. “And what’re you gonna do about it?”
“Insist you pick on someone your own size.”
The weight left Miles’ back at the veiled threat. Butch must have stood to fully face the other boy. He took the moment to gasp for breath, using a shaking arm to push himself up and roll out of the mud puddle.
“Yeah?” Butch growled, voice lowering in a threat. “Well there’s two of us and one a you. So you better back off before you get hurt.”
“It is you, I fear, that will be hurt if you do not leave.”
Miles tried to push himself up further. The attention was off of him. It was his chance to escape. But he couldn’t find his breath, his body shaking in fear. He turned his head and watched as the older boy’s shoes stepped away, toward the mysterious person.
Butch and Rocky came together and stepped forward in a threatening manor. “Look at im.” Rocky snorted. “He’s just as much a freak as the kid!”
“Yeah,” Butch sneered. “We should give im the same treatment.”
A tired sigh left the newest being’s lungs, almost as if in boredom as the two foxes approached. “Very well, you have made your choice.”
“Get im!”
There was a loud punch as fists came together. Out of the corner of his eye Miles could see the haze of sparking red behind him.
The sound of skidding shoes met the kit’s ears, slipping and sliding through the wet mud as the two older foxes came to an abrupt stop. He could hear a faint yelp coming from one of the bullies behind him.
“What the…?” Butch yipped, his voice coming out high, almost fearful as he stopped his pursuit.
“You really are a freak!” Rocky shrieked.
“Come on, lets get outta here.” Butch yelled, voice tremoring as if in fear. “He aint worth it!”
The sound of scuttling feet met Tails ears and he let out a short relieved breath as the older foxed tripped over themselves, running as fast as they could back to the village. His repose only lasted a moment before he heard the tread of heavy boots making their way closer to his location.
Adrenaline filled his veins and he pulled himself away in a hurry, trying to put space between him and the new threat. His body flipped upward and for the first time he was able to see the new creature clearly. And a strange creature he was.
He was tall, taller than the two bullies that had left in a hurry. His hands were large, gloves as big as boulders as they swung at his sides. His muzzle was long and thick, twitching slightly upward as he approached. Large, heavy clumps of quill hung around his face, surrounding his head. And his piercing purple eyes bore into Miles’, as if reading every thought moving through the kit’s head.
It was a creature that looked nothing like anything he had ever seen before. It was imposing, fearless, towering.
And Miles did the only thing he could think of as the new being approached. He leaned back away from the approaching hand and screamed.