Babylon Rogues, Future City (C) Sega, Sonic Team

Isolation

For the first time in his life, he had stopped. The wind had always shoved him into full throttle, but a sharp, icy cold gust stabbed into his heart. Pangs of guilt, agony, and malice flooded through his entire being as the night sky grew heavier. The sirens of police cars echoed throughout the barren, desolate city as the stars refused to shine. They had finally given up to the eternal darkness as he darted into his office.

Jet continued to replay the incident in his mind, but everything grew blurry as he paced around in his office. The airship was on auto pilot since he felt as though a hangover plagued his mind. He glared over to his busted Extreme Gear, shot with several bullets that left tiny pellets lodged inside that thrashed his air booster. Jet slumped in his leather chair, hands propped up on his desk, and his shoulders heaved. Entire body trembling, the emerald avian desperately attempted not to cry, but stoic tears streamed down his face, eyes wide open. The images of the night rushed back into his mind as the salty tears cascaded down his beak.

It was supposed to have been a simple mission. Nothing could have gone wrong. After all, he was the leader of the most infamous band of thieves in the universe, the Babylon Rogues. Storm and Wave were always right by his side, being with him since childhood. They would always have each others' backs, even in the direst situation. If only he had the strength to defend them in those seconds that changed his life.

The mission was another raid in Future City to snag a rare artifact that used to reside in the fallen Babylon Garden before it was raised. Jet was confident, cocky enough that the operation would go smoothly. Wave kept chiding him over his overbearing attitude towards missions, but he simply blocked her out of his mind, like usual. Storm gave them a concerned look, and Jet knew the albatross well enough that by a single glare would keep Storm's beak clamped shut. Smirking down at the city, he grinned at the compelling, fresh air that gently caressed his feathers before pulling his white goggles over his eyes. Storm and Wave did the same as they readied their Extreme Gear for the chase that was to ensue in mere moments.

Three streaks of emerald, violet and grey dashed through the air, sending tidal waves of color through the pale night. Future City was one of the most technologically advanced cities in the world, meaning the security system of the bank would prove rather troublesome. Crashing through a window, the Babylon Rogues dashed madly towards the end of the cramped halls, and they bluntly ignored the screams of the tellers. Storm confronted the guards, easily taking them out with his massive fists. Jet smirked as he guided his team towards the main vault which was rumored to contain the Babylon Key, the only object that could unlock the Control Box. Wave pressed her hand against the side of the vault, gripping the lock and swiftly, almost cat-like, broke through with her sheer intelligence. There it was: a burnt orange key with three spikes with a chain latched on at the end. It was underneath a simple, cylindrical glass case. How hard could that be?

With arrogance flaring, Jet rode out slowly. Still cautious, he called back to Wave to check if there was any sort of motion sensor. Taking out her computer orb, she pressed it, revealing an infra-red beam that shone. Several scarlet motion sensing beams crowded the area, and only the smallest particle could steep through. The Babylon Rogues stared for a few moments before Jet ordered Wave to throw her wrench in. At first, the amethyst swallow refused until Storm coaxed her into it with a playful threat of throwing her off the airship. Jet sniggered as Wave slapped him over the head. Heaving backwards, she gripped her wrench tightly before plunging it in.

As the wrench grazed the first beam it came in contact with, an alarm screeched. The beam instantly faded away, and Jet roared at his cohorts to "go". Smashing his fist against the glass case, Storm eagerly held out the Babylonian prize to his leader, and Jet greedily snatched it without even a thank you. The trio of avian thieves bolted out through a back entrance, but the hover car police were immediately on their tail. One of the tellers must've sold them out as Wave proclaimed that sounded like a whisper over the scream of sirens and their own Extreme Gear. Jet cursed underneath his breathe, but the on-coming gusts dragged his swears away to be forgotten in the wake.

The cops were distraught at the speeds the Babylon Rogues were going at, almost as fast as Sonic the Hedgehog. The mere thought of Jet's spiny blue rival sent shivers down the hawk's spine since he was thinking the exact same thing. Anger coursed through his bloodstream, knowing that he would never be the fastest creature alive. However, the air belonged to him and him alone. Yet, Sonic kept tugging at his pride, tearing it away like several band aids. Shaking his head, Jet decided to leave the hedgehog along for the moment. Maybe tomorrow would be his day if tomorrow ever came for him.

Storm felt his Extreme Gear shuddered, and he fearfully glanced down to find his air nearly gone. Fretfully, he shouted out to his comrades about it, but his words were, too, drowned in the unforgiving wind. Jet and Wave stared at him with utmost confusion until his Gear began to sputter out of control. Jet desperately attempted to reach out to the large albatross, but his hand slipped, and Storm was sent flying behind them before his Extreme Gear collapsed. Wave urged Jet to go back for him, but the jade hawk cringed as a gun was pulled from the officers.

Bullets rocketed through the air, and Storm covered his head, getting to his knees instinctively. Lifting his head up, he screamed at his closest friends to flee. Storm grinned as he faced the cops, and a few began to brawl with him. However, the mighty bird was capable of holding his own against pathetic human cops, easily decapitating them in just a few swings. He just wasn't prepared for the gunshots embedded into his back.

The gunshots forced Wave to swerve back around to watch in absolute horror as Storm flopped to the ground. Motionless. Jet watched with wide eyes as his right hand man died right before his teal eyes. Gasping, Jet nearly fell off his Extreme Gear when one of the officers brought out a body bag and cried at Wave to escape with him. She hesitated, commanding that Jet go off before her. At first, he was ready to refuse her order when he realized that she was heading off in another direction. Jet screamed after her when the police hover cars started rolling again with red and blue swirled streaks competing with Jet's green airwaves.

Breathing became erratic, and the world just began spinning like a soccer ball in motion. Jet panted as the officers began shouting at him to stop or they "would do to you what they did to your friend" jive. The hawk felt more pangs stinging in his chest as the image stayed on rewind before pausing and tattooing Storm's death on his conscious. Shaking his head to avoid tears from falling, Jet took rapid corners, misleading the cops until he was in a secluded alleyway with no one. Stopping, Jet hopped off his board, and he just stared at the metal wall of an apartment complex.

Storm was dead, that's when it finally hit him.

Slamming his fist against the metal, he screamed, cursed, and cried. Every haunting emotion began coming up like bile. There was no more arrogance, no pride left inside of him. Kicking at trashcans, he glared at the sky and trembled, hands balled up in softball shaped fists.

Suddenly, a feminine cry cut through the mockingly still night. Jet stared at the entrance of the alley, muttering her name in uncertainty. A gloved hand with a gentle pink flamed wrist crashed at opening with a light magenta board skidding across the sidewalk. Wave glanced over to Jet with her arm raised in desperation, whimpering for help. She was obviously shot in the back, showing her weakness and struggle to stand. With lead hacked into his legs, Jet felt gravity press down onto him as more bullets sounded off, and the hand went completely limp.

Wave just died right before his eyes, and he allowed it to occur.

Jet's beak gaped as the swallow's head slouched onto the ground. Her orange sunglasses flopped off, not glimmering like usual. Fear driven, Jet backed up to his Extreme Gear and bolted away like a dog with his tail between his legs. Jet was wordless; nothing escaped him as he found himself with the unbridled cops. Glaring at them, Jet snagged his emerald feathered bansho fans and charged at the policemen with unattainable speeds. Each slice drew blood, cutting and hacking away at the Future City officers, and he felt good. Revenge was merciless in his mind, and every fiber wanted to taste the lust of malicious destruction. What drove him now was survival.

More hover cars exposed themselves from the blank darkness of the streets, firing rapidly at Jet. However, he was too fast, and the bullets skimmed across the bodywork of his Extreme Gear. Clutching the key, Jet dashed off into the night with a mixed cry of pain and misery. The last thing he saw was Wave being shoved loathingly into a body bang.

Now, here he was: Broken, miserable, and ridden with self-loathing. Jet sat up, eyes staring two wide holes at door. For a moment, he thought he heard stomping coming to his door and believed Storm was there. He gasped, smiling for a few seconds before he realized that his imagination was playing tricks on him. Then, he sank back, glaring daggers at his Extreme Gear before shoving it out the window, screaming gibberish. The teen hawk stared at the dreary, starless sky and pondered on his own existence. There was nothing left for him, but the airship and the Control Box.

The Control Box!

Jet snatched the light blue cube out of his desk drawer, chucking it at the wall. It was all because of his stupid heritage and desire to unlock its secrets that Storm and Wave were dead! The Ex World Grand Prix, Babylon Garden's revival, and now this! Snatching it with both hands, he begged his father to forgive as he threw the box out of the broken window.

Now, he had nothing. His father had worked tirelessly on unlocking its secrets that drove him into madness, and he drove himself insane before allowing Jet to take over. Jet's eyes grew dull, exposing no shed of emotion, but anger and despair. As Jet stood there, he found his arms subconsciously snatching the window's broken hinges. Hoisting himself up on the ledge, Jet took a breathe and stared out at the pleasant breeze. Why was the wind tormenting him when it had once loved him?

"I'm sorry, Storm, Wave," Jet whispered as his grip from the window's hinges fell loose. "I let myself get ahead of you both every time. Be it a race or a job, I was always the leader, and you two were always protecting me until your last gasps. It's time I gave mine to pay you two back."

For a few moments as his drop to the unforgiving ground ensued, his speed had actually surpassed Sonic's. Jet smirked and burst into laughter that was drowned out by the wind slicing around him. Yet, after that, there was no more speed, but an impact into a deep canyon that stopped the fastest thing in the air forever.

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