Duney Doom Dunes of Dune.

This is chapter one of a yet to be named story that I am working on, please enjoy it and let me know what you think of it.

Dune is owned by his creator, all other characters are owned by their respective owners.
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The pink sky arched across the cosmos of the canyon. The orange and dull yellow of the massive trenches swirled with the lush pink aura of the evening. A squawk ripped the peace of the evening, disrupting the calm of a traveller who traversed the rocky canyons. With a pack on his back, a sand cat navigated his way to the north through the canyons. A hat was dipped low over his face, the brim keeping the sweeping echo of light out of his eyes. It was not but hours ago that he had left the only civilization he had known in his life - A broken civilization that had taken refuge in the canyons of Mobius in hopes of nothing more than survival. However, this traveller, had made his decision in searching of something more than survival in the world – there had to be something more fulfilling in the world, at least, that's what the sand cat had hoped.

The pink of the sky over head was now a deep purple. Night was upon Mobius and the traveller had reached the final outcropping of shale and stone of the canyons. Off in the distance, with just enough light left to see, the sand cat eyed the tips of a forest just reaching out over the horizon. His instincts twisted with an uncomfortable squirm at the idea of travelling on an open plain during the night; an open view of an open prey. The sand cat lifted the brim of his hat slightly, his weathered amber eyes narrowed down the horizon and felt teased, almost taunted by the sight of the sprawling green tree-line. 'One more night in a cave,' thought the cat. He turned on his heels, the ground crunching beneath his leather and canvas shoes, 'just one more night in a hole.' He climbed the lip of a small cliff and found a suitable cave that provided enough shelter for him to rest. With one more look over his shoulder at the forest, the sand cat sighed and bent over his pack – taking out a small canvas sheet to sleep on.

-

“What we have in the canyons is safe, Dune. Leaving would not only be dangerous but... Unnecessary, surely you can see that?” said an older sand cat.

“Living off of the bugs of the cave, stealing eggs from the nests of birds, constant uncertainties of where our next source of water will come from, sleeping in caves and holes... You call that 'Safe', Zahm?” asked Dune, “you and everyone else can keep living in your holes – I am crawling out of mine,” he hissed at Zahm.

-

Dune awoke from the dream slowly as morning crept into his cave, waking him with pokes and jabs of light. For a moment, the dream of the argument he had with Zahm the night before lingered then quickly receded to the back of Dune's mind. After climbing down the lip of the cliff and over the small final outcroppings of the canyon, Dune looked behind him and bid the place a farewell.

After an hour or so of walking across the grassy plain, the sand cat reached the forest. He smiled to himself and inhaled the scent of the green life all around him. Dune travelled the forest with no clear destination in mind, letting his legs take him through the maze of vegetation and under brush. The melody of birds and percussion of the branches in the lazy breeze provided a gentle song.

The songs of nature were soon interrupted by the pangs of Dune's stomach. Hunger rattled inside him and his eyes searched the canopy. His eyes finally settled on a fruit-dotted tree a few dozen feet away from him. The sand cat was soon climbing the tree with ease, climbing to the emergent layer of the forest, taking a handful of fruit with him. As he found a comfortable branch to sit on, he produced a small butterfly knife from the inside of his jacket. With a twist of his wrist, the blade twirled around and into position. He sliced pieces of the fruit onto the blade and into his mouth.

As Dune ate, his eyes searched around the scenery. The trees seemed to go on for quite a long distance, yet off in the distance to the south east, a faint glow caught his eye. It was barely there, but noticeable enough for him to see. Since the last few hours of his journey had relatively no direction, Dune thought it best to make it to whatever it was to the south east his destination. 'Maybe another city?...' the sand cat thought as he finished off the last piece of fruit, sating his appetite.

The sand cat landed from branch to branch off of his perch before finally landing on the floor of the forest. When he did, an arrow bolt ripped the air over his head and landed firmly within the tree he had just climbed out of. Alertly, Dune snapped his head to the direction from which the bolt came and spotted a skunk with a bandoleer, beret, and wrist-mounted crossbow, which the skunk was quickly reloading with another bolt.

Dune quickly closed the gap while unlocking and dancing his knife around his thumb and forefinger into ready position. With a scowl on his face, the sand cat zig-zagged in between trees and heard a 'twang' as he felt another bolt speed past his head. The sand cat used this to his advantage and sprang at the skunk, taking him down with his forearm to the crossbow wielder's throat. The skunk grunted as they fell to the forest floor, Dune keeping his knife close to the attacker's throat. However, the skunk managed to raise and bend his leg and deliver a kick to Dune's stomach, knocking him off and onto his back. As Dune gripped his stomach and got back onto his feet, he found the skunk had already reloaded and was fixed on the sand cat's head.

The forest had suddenly fell silent, as if the world had stopped momentarily.

“Keep it right there, boy,” said the skunk, who to Dune's surprise had an accent he had not heard before.

“Why did you try to shoot me?” asked the sand cat sternly.

“I'll ask the questions, feline – who are you?” asked the skunk, brushing off Dune's own query with a sneer.

After a second of staring contemptibly at his attacker, Dune decided it would be the more diplomatic course of action to simply answer the questions.

“My name is Dune Copperstone... I am one of the last survivors of the city of Aaamaal,” stated the sand cat.

“... Aaamaal?” repeated the skunk under his breath as he narrowed his eyes at Dune, “I see.”

The sand cat came forward slightly, curious, “You've heard of it? What do you know about it?” asked Dune quickly.

“I don't know much about it, feline,” the skunk stated,” However, if what you say is true – that you are from Aaamaal, you're going to have to come with me.”

Dune gripped his knife, “Why should I have any reason to come with you after you just tried to put an arrow through my head?” he asked.

The skunk smirked smugly and tapped his crossbow, “Because, you either come with me and learn something about your ruined city or I end your journey right here.”

With an audible sigh and brief moment of silence, Dune twitched his knife shut and pocketed it.

Dune shoved the door open, tears causing his eyes to swell. He wiped his eyes with his left hand awkwardly and searched for his mother. A whimper squeaked out of his lips as his mother was no where to be found. Finally, he ran outside to find her in the alleyway putting up linens and clothing on lines to dry in the wind. Her gaze was matched with a smile before she saw her son's hand, “Dune... your hand!” she exclaimed.

The young sand cat's palm was sliced wide open with a clean gash, blood pooling in his palm and dropping slowly, a trail of drops following him from inside their adobe home and out to the alleyway. Other women and men bustled through the alleyway with a low murmur, not paying attention to Dune or his mother.

“I... I was pr-practicing with father's knife and... and it-” Dune sobbed as his mother bent down and carefully looked at his hand. She 'tsk'd' under her breath, “You should not have been playing with his knife, Dune... Come, let's get your hand cleaned up,”she cooed as she led him back inside their home.

Within a few minutes, she had wrapped and bandaged Dune's hand and kissed it, “Does that make it feel better now?” she asked her son with a smile. The young sand cat sniffed quietly and rubbed his eyes one more time, “Yeah... Thanks, Mom... I... I'm sorry for messing with Dad's knife... I just wanna have my own some day,” he explained reluctantly.

His mother chuckled quietly and knelt down kissing her son's forehead, “Dune, my son, you're still much too young for your own blade... I'm sure if your father was here, he would tell you the same,” she said as she held his bandaged hand, “and he would also tell you that older boys know that knives are very dangerous, Dune... I understand your eagerness, but you could have hurt more than your hand,” she said warningly.

Dune drooped his head, “I said I was sorry, Mom...” he said quietly.

His mother sighed and lifted his head with her finger, “Yes, you did Dune, and I know that... I just want you to be careful. I would not know what I would do if I lost you too,” she said affectionately.

Dune stared back up at his mother sorrily, his amber eyes still bright with moisture. He eventually threw his arms around her neck and squeezed her tightly, “Don't worry Mom... You know I'm not going anywhere,” Dune said confidently.

Surprised at first, Dune's mother then wrapped her arms around her son and smiled, “I know Dune...” she said softly as tears rolled down her cheeks.

-

Dune's peaceful dream of his mother was violently broken by a swift kick from Geoffry St. John, the skunk whom Dune now travelled with, “Wake up, boy, we'll be reaching Mobotropolis today,” he stated with a no-nonsense tone. The sand cat tiredly rubbed his back and growled up at the skunk.

After a bare bones breakfast, the two continued their journey through the forest. For the majority of their trek, neither felt like breaking the icy silence between the both of them until Dune finally asked, “Can you at least tell me anything about Mobotropolis? I'm not exactly familiar with much of the world, you know.”

The skunk sighed and talked as they walked, “It's a vast city that's home to thousands of Mobians. We've just recently reclaimed it from an Overlander named 'Robotnik', a man who was bent on wiping out every Mobian alive. Luckily, the long battle we've had with him was ended not too long ago and we're in the process of rebuilding,” St. John explained.

“Then... Why take me there? What makes me being from Aaamaal so special to you or Mobotropolis?” Dune asked quizzically.

“Because, no one has been seen or heard of from Aaamaal in over 15 years, feline,” St. John replied with a matter of factly tone in his voice, “and our king would most definitely want to talk with a survivor of the city.”

“King?... Why would a king want to meet me?” Dune asked, surprised.

St. John stopped and turned towards the sand cat, “You ask a lot of questions, you know that, boy?” the skunk turned back around and kept walking.

Dune rolled his eyes and scoffed, feeling quite irritated. Yet, he continued to follow St. John.

-

That evening, the pair reached Mobotropolis. The city was unlike anything Dune had seen. It was much more grand than the vague memories of Aaamaal and it left the sand cat marveled at the awe of it all. The technology that was available to these people was unlike anything Dune had seen. Artificial light, unfamiliar metals, and an architecture never before seen by Dune.

“This place... It's absolutely stunning,” stated Dune as he took in the sights of the city.

St. John remained quiet and continued to lead the sand cat through the streets of the city. After a few minutes they reached what Dune assumed must be the palace. It was much lager than anything else in the city and looked very fitting for royalty. Guards in blue uniforms stood on duty throughout the royal castle. Red carpet seemed to be laid out as well, however, Dune figured it was not for him.

“You're taking me to see the king tonight are you?” asked Dune, a bit unsure of what or where he was going at this point.

“No, I'm leading you to your quarters for the night, boy,” stated the skunk as they turned a corner and down a spiral stair case.

Dune however, was not surprised to see that his quarters were a stone cell. It had a window, a cot, and anything else that fell under the 'bare necessities' of living. The sand cat sat on his cot and sighed as St. John slid the cell door shut and locked it.

“Tomorrow morning, the king should see you, boy. For now, I think you should get some sleep,” stated the skunk as he walked off without regard for what Dune might have had to say or protest.

The feline sat up and gripped the bars, looking in the direction to where St. John walked off and after a moment, laid down on the cot, 'the first sign of civilization and it throws me in jail,' thought Dune to himself. He inhaled and exhaled deeply and shook off his annoyances and relaxed as he tried to get some sleep.

Dune was awoken with a thunderous slam as his cell door was opened. He sat up quickly and blinked the sleep out of his eyes. St. John stood in the doorway of his cell, waiting.

“Come on feline, the king doesn't have all day,” St. John said hurriedly.

Dune mumbled something under his breath as he was grasped by the arm and marched around the red-carpeted halls of the palace. After a few more stair-cases up, the pair reached a tall and broad wooden door. The skunk stopped inside first and shut the door behind him, leaving Dune to wait. Seconds later, he came back out and grabbed Dune's arm again, pulling him past the large doors.

Inside the elaborate looking throne room, stood a tall figure. Dune narrowed his eyes to get a better look. An impressive crown sat on his head that was laced with jewels and shiny stones. His hair was white as well as the mustache on his face. This man, who Dune perceived to be the King, had royal blue eyes that exuded authority, yet something else was in them as well. His attire was a blue military uniform similar to the guards, but with more décor. In his right hand was a grand scepter that stood almost as tall as the man wielding it.

"So, this is him, St. John?" asked the royal figure.

The skunk kneeled as if it were an involuntary action, "Aye, m'lord. Found him wandering the northern sector of the Great Forest, just outside the canyons to the west."

At this point, Dune was uncertain of the race of the king. Was he a squirrel? Or was he a chipmunk perhaps? It was not quite clear to pick up.

"Do you know who I am, sand cat?" said the king to Dune.

"No, I can't say I do... ", replied Dune.

"I am King Maximilian Acorn, ruler of Mobotropolis," said the king with an official air in his voice.

A moment of quiet passed between them as Dune thought of a place to start.

"My name is Dune Copperstone. I'm one of the last remnant of Aaamaal," stated the feline.

"If you are but one of the remnant of Aaamaal, then where are the rest of them?” asked the king with a raised eyebrow.

"First, tell me how you know of Aaamaal. We were never even aware of anyone outside our walls," asked Dune.

The King Maximilian narrowed one eye at the sand cat for a moment, but figured he at least owed the young man this much.

"The royalty of Aaamaal had communicated with Mobotropolis for some time, yet nothing more. He refused to open trade lines or open his borders to our people. He was very keen on keeping his own city an isolated oasis in the desert... So to speak,” explained Acorn.

Dune, surprised said, "I... I was not even aware. Our own king had kept this from us - his own subjects. The first contact that I - us - had with outsiders was the mechanized beasts that destroyed Aaamaal. Our city did not stand a chance. We had no weapons or experience with fighting something mechanical.”

"That would be our late mutual friend, Robotnik, Dune," said Acorn, "He was defeated not a few short weeks ago by one of our own. Ever since then, we have focused on reconstruction and rebuilding, as I am sure Special Agent St. John might have told you,” stated the king,”Now, if you would not mind indulging - where are the remnants of the people of Aaamaal?"


"When we escaped 10 years ago from our home in the desert, we managed to take refuge in the canyons to the north west. At first there were no more than a couple dozen of us, however - there are now perhaps, fifty or sixty of us. Most of them are children who know nothing else but the canyons," Dune explained to the king.

King Acorn rubbed his chin in thought.

“Dune, I want to extend an offer to you and your people,” he stated, “If you were to do what I ask of you, I will give you everything the Royal Archives has about Aaamaal. Any history or logs that we may have gotten from the royalty of Aaamaal we will gladly pass to you and your people in hopes that you may begin your own reconstruction and start a new era of Aaamaal.”

There was a moment of silence in the room. Dune had narrowed his eyes at the king, thinking quite long and hard about what he had been offered. He had left his people because they had accepted their life in the canyons. However, here was a chance to change all of that. This was a chance to give an entire civilization a second shot to thrive once more – a second shot to exist.

"What do you want from me, King Acorn?"

Amber liquid poured into dirty clay cups around a circle of candles. An angry wind howled outside the canvas tent that sheltered the small meeting. The flames that clung to the wicks faltered as the last member of the group entered through the thick flap of the tent. The one late to the meeting sat in the last remaining seat, completing a circle 'round the candles and cups of amber. Finally, a voice spoke up.

"He claims to be an assassin. A blade for hire - from the northeast. We've had a great many addition to our ranks in the past few weeks, though... this one seems different. He seems green around the gills to this sort of business. This mayhap be one of his first outings," spoke the tallest amongst them, an old and grizzled looking jack rabbit.

"Aye, Boe... We all started out as babes in the woods at one point in our lives. The young'in shows a great bit of promise with the click-clack knife he toys with. He sparred with the blademen from my own clan and held his own. His dancery and foot-work makes up for the tiny fruit slicer he wields," rasped a gnarled ancient looking rat who was missing an ear.

Some of the figures sipped from their cups, drinking their amber slowly.

"Then why bother chewing off 'bout the lad?!" asked an aggravated echidna. "If we are all in agreeance that he be nothin' more than a novice, then can we settle this now, and finish this? I've finished my drink and I don't see any more reason to bother with the subject."

"Patience, Gunnar!" said Boe with a raised hand. "Do you think our mutual friend and leader would be pleased with us if a spy were to have entered our ranks?"

Gunnar bared his teeth and beckoned for his cup to be refilled with amber. "... Fair enough, Boe. Though your bootlicking may be the only thing keeping my tribe and tech around this sorry lot," he growled through his teeth, folding his arms.

"And you, Jiles, you old-as-dirt rat," scoffed Gunnar the echidna. "How you managed to worm your way into this operation is beyond me."

The rat who was missing an ear snarled at Gunnar and opened his wrinkled maw to bark back.

"Both of you, shut your slobbering holes," spoke Boe calmly with a dash of annoyance. "Jiles and his blademen have made excellent footsoldiers in the beginning... However, your land racers are not the only thing we value you and your kinsman for, Gunnar. The echidnafolk have always been fierce warriors and everyone included in this operation is equally valued. No more squabbling. It is decided. The young feline is welcomed into our ranks - albeit we will keep a watchful eye on him. He is not to be allowed free roam of the camp. Understood?"

The small group of clan, gang, and tribe leaders unanimously agreed and all finished the last of their amber.
"Excellent. This meeting is adjourned. Jiles, you will inform the young one of his acceptance. Release him from his confinement and allow him to bunk with the one he entered with. They will have their own lodgings near your camp," requested Boe. The ancient rat grunted.

"Our mutual friend is waiting on our decision," finished Boe.

The meeting was done. The candles were choked and the group exited the tent.
------
Jiles waved the two blademen away with his twisted hand and entered the tent they guarded.

"You have been approved, Dune. You have earned our trust for now, sand cat. You are now an official enemy to King Maximillion Acorn and Mobotropolis," rasped Jiles.

Dune sat up from his cot and smiled, "Good."

It sounds pretty good! Keep writing!

I like it a lot. Great stuff in there.

A bit of contructive criticism: try using more semi colons. Before I read most (first three books) of the Twilight series, I didn't use them, but Stephanie Meyer uses them a lot, and the best thing an author can do is read. It was nice to finally read a book written by someone with a degree--don't get me wrong, the others were awesome--but it was nice to read something using each form of punctuation at least once. And lots of accent marks.

So, like I said, try to break up your sentences more. It's easier for the reader and more pleasing to the eye.

Thank you, both of you. This means quite a lot to me.

Edit: By the way, I have edited previous chapters and updated them for punctuation and continuity purposes.

~2 Weeks Earlier~

"Dune the sand cat - Blade for hire, assassin, mercenary, whatever you want me to be, I aim to be - just as long as you put some coin in my hand," stated Dune to the sentry who discovered the sand cat approaching the caravans perimeter. The sentry was not at all pleased with Dune's presence judging by the cutlass pointed at his twitching face - a mean looking crow with an eye-patch and what looked like a permanent scowl.

The seasoned looking crow slowly lowered his blade, but kept a firm latch on the grip. "A smart merc would know not to approach a camp perimeter from the rear. Come with me," spoke the grizzled guard. Dune slowly lowered his hands, but kept them up at a comfortable height to ease the guards caution. The crow lead the sand cat onward.

Soon enough, the sand cat was talking with the leader of the caravan, a rather round, large, and old dog by the name of Jaff. An obnoxious fellow with an equally obnoxious name, thought Dune. The two talked through the night and eventually, a deal was struck - Dune would be able to travel with them to the their intended destination if he would hunt and catch the occasional meal to eat along the way.

Although, for waking up Jaff as he had just gotten to sleep, Dune was forced to find his own means of sleeping through the night. The sand cat grumbled as he made a makeshift bed out of some tree branches with his utility blade. 'I can't believe this is what the king wanted me to do,' thought Dune as he slowly drifted to sleep beneath the rough leaves.
-
The patchy soil was awkward. Very awkward to walk on. Even more awkward to walk and hold a conversation on. Still, Dune pressed onward with the small caravan of bandits. There were no more than a dozen of them all together. A rag-tag band of worn leather-clad ruffians following nothing more than a rumor.

"So, no one knows who he is?" asked Dune to the youngest of the bunch, Lester, a coyote who carried a thick and bulging gunny sack over his shoulder.

"Nope, no one does. He's just the mutual friend. When word started spreadin' throughout the realm that Robuttnik had bit the dust - all of the raider gangs decided takin' Mobotropolis would be easy pickin's. Mutual friend came along not one week after and told all of us that the only way we'd take the city is if we banded together; at least, that's the rumor that's been spreadin'," explained Lester.

The sand cat thought for a moment. "How come no one sent out any messengers or anything like that to the other raider gangs?" Dune asked.

The coyote looked at Dune like he had turned into a cactus and stated singing.

"We're raiders... We're not known for diplomacy, moron," shot the coyote.

"I can tell," whispered Dune underneath his breath.
------
Slop for dinner. Delicious. Dune almost retched everytime he put a spoonful of the stuff in his mouth. It was disgusting - but then again, it was food. He couldn't tell what was worse though, this diet or the diet he had in the canyons. The rest of the group was practically inhaling their bowlfuls.

"Absolutely delectable... I tell you, the new cook we picked up certainly has a knack for this. He's made a bowl of sludge not only edible, but... Aah, you all agree with me, right mates?" spoke Jaff, who guffawed at his own statement.

Laughter broke out amongst the group at elder dog's comment. Dune' stomach was too busy rolling over and fighting with the slop as he shoved more of it down his throat.

"Which... Reminds me," the wide one said, as he put down his bowl, "you over there," he pointed at Dune. The sand cat's eye brows went up in attention.

"What can I do for you, hoss?" asked Dune, wiping his mouth with his sleeve.

"Are you sure you're a raider?... You look nothin' more than a pup whose lost his way," said the fat one with a chortle, "Now... Now, I won't mind you taggin' along, but I can't say our mutual friend will feel the same way!" said the old dog as he picked his bowl up with a grunt.

"Then I s'pose there's nothing more to say about the matter," said the sand cat.

"Nack!... Nack! Get out of the caravan, what do you think of this little rookie?" shouted the plumpy old dog into the back of the metal van.

Out stepped a purple weasel with a brown hat and the shadiest looking smile Dune had ever seen.

"He's green alright, but he'll do just fine. Yep, he'll do just fine," said the weasel with a fangy-smirk.
-
Dune wiped away what was once dinner from his mouth. What was once dinner was now on the patchy sand/grass on the soil. The sand cat groaned and sat back against a tree, trying to relax his stomach. His thoughts drifted back to his mother. What little memories he did have were pleasant and soothing. Her lullabies that only Dune now knew the melodies of drifted around the inside of his head like a mellow soup. Now, more than any time in his life - away from his people and culture - Dune missed his mother.

With a rub at his moist cheek and a quiet sniff, the sand cat stood up and pushed the memories out of his consciounce. He made his way to Jaff's tent and found him already asleep in his bag. Dune let out an annoyed sigh and gave the fat dog a light kick.

Not even a twitch.

Dune knelt down and gave the round dog a shove. Still nothing. He put his hand up to the dog's mouth and felt no air. He was not breathing.

Jaff was dead.

The sand cat felt a pit in his stomach form like sand leaking from an hour glass. He certainly did not like Jaff and would not miss him, but still felt a shock run through him as someone he was just talking with only a half-hour now lay lifeless. Dune cleared his head and looked around the tent - there was no sign of struggle or attack. He decided to get one of the others to come and help figure out what had happened.

"Lester! Les, something happened to Jaff he's de-," the coyote was face down on the ground in his tent. Dune was startled - feeling the same dread wash over him. Again, no signs of struggle or attack. He backed out of the tent slowly when a hand clasped onto his shoulder.

Dune jumped around, his knife clicked out and held in his hand ready to attack. The blade sat at the purple weasel's cheek.

"You're a spy, aren't you?" said Nack, his icy blue eyes narrowing while his gloved hand pushed the knife away from his face slowly.

"I... I'm... You killed them?" asked Dune, feeling a mixture of sickness, shock, and confusion.

"Sure, you could say there was an accident in the kitchen!" the weasel said with his gleaming fangy smirk, "and don't'cha think it's rude to answer a question with a question? C'mon, I know you're a spy. You're not even a good spy, kidd-o," spoke Nack as he walked towards Dune, throwing the feline off balance.

Nack stared down at the cat and smiled wider. 'He's gotta be sent from Mobotropolis. Only someone as arrogant and dumb as the king would send a rookie to get inside the raiders operation... But - I can use this,' planned out the weasel.

"I'm your back-up, Dune. You'da been a cooked goose had you gone any further with'em. I even heard Jaff himself talk 'bout how they were gonna gut ya as soon as this little convoy got into the desert," and with that, Nack extended his gloved hand and picked up the sand cat off the ground.

"Back-up?... What? I wasn't told anything about back-up," stated Dune with a dash of confusion.

"So, you are a spy, ain't ya?" said Nack with a grin.

Dune stammered for a moment before Nack let out a laugh which did not fit the mood.

"I'm from... Eh... I'm from Weasel City," Nack lied, "Out to the east, yeah."

"Acorn never mentioned anything about Weasel City, Nack," said Dune, feeling a bit skeptical of the weasel.

"Aaaahhh, you know kings... they always keep information from people 'bout this and that and whatever. C'mon, if I wasn't here to save your bacon," Nack stated with a finger to Dune's chest, "why aren't ya face down in the dirt with the other raider dirtbags?"

This actually had made sense to Dune. If he wasn't working with the same goals in mind, why wasn't he dead? Maybe King Acorn had kept this from him... The king of Aaamaal had kept so much from his own people, why wouldn't King Acorn do something similar. Still, Nack's methods were beginning to leave a bad taste in his mouth.

"Alright, fair enough, Nack. Still, I'm not sure how I feel about just -"

"It's you or them, kid, now c'mon let's hit the road," said Nack as he turned on his heels and left Dune behind him. The weasel yelled to him from the short distance out, "stick with me, and you'll learn a thing or two, kid!"
The sand cat stood up, still a little confused. He looked around at the tents, and wished Jaff and his gang the best of luck.

"Hey - Nack, slow down!"

Very good stuff. Quite a few unpredictable turns, for sure. Keep up the good work, then.

The Freedom Fighter wrote:Very good stuff. Quite a few unpredictable turns, for sure. Keep up the good work, then.

Thanks for reading it, Freedom. I like it, too, Felix.

A short week after the incident with Jaff, Nack and Dune trekked across the desert. Luckily, the winds were very calm on this particular day. The sky was so blue it almost gave Dune a sweet taste in his mouth. The sand cat took in a deep breath and was reminded of Aaamaal for a short while, his mind drifting off to fleeting memories of the home he once had.

"HEY!" shouted Nack. Dune hadn't realized he had suddenly stopped to daydream - Nack being a few paces ahead of him with a more than annoyed look on his face. "What? I was just taking a little break," shrugged Dune as he walked past Nack, who continued to glare at the sand cat.

They walked a bit further, keeping their balance on the unstable terrain of sand. "Listen, kid... If we're gonna be workin' together on this little mission - I gotta know more 'bout you. What's the skinny on ya?" asked Nack. The sand cat inhaled and exhaled slowly before finding a decent place to start,

"My full name is Dune Copperstone and I'm from the city of Aaamaal... Which was a kingdom in the Mobian desert to the west. It was destroyed by Robotnik about 15 years ago - when I was only five - and I suppose that tells you my age. The survivors of that city fled to the canyons where my people lived in acquiescence, accepting their 'new' life of living in caves and holes. One day, I decided to leave them to find my own way. My own way turned out to be getting forced into doing the dirty work of King Acorn," Dune explained while he walked.

Nack smirked with his fang and listened intently to everything Dune told him, "Aaamaal? Ain't ever heard of that place... But I believe ya, no one really likes goin' to the Mobian Desert. That also sounds a lot like Acorn, too. Makin' us little guys do the dirty deeds he don't wanna do. Typical, ain't it?"

Dune felt the left corner of his mouth raise in a slight smirk, "Yeah, I suppose so... The ruler we had in Aaamaal never even told us there was anyone else in the world except us. For some reason, he kept everyone isolated. I'll never know why, but at this point I'm not sure if I care to."

The weasel scratched at his chin at this bit of information and took note of it, "Yeah, yeah... So, tell me - why d'ya use such a... eh, small knife?" asked Nack.

Dune slipped the butterfly knife out of his jacket pocket and it clicked, clacked, twirled, and danced around his hand like an insect. He finally gripped it in his hand, at a ready to stab position, "It's a simple blade... Yet, sharp. Very sharp. It was my fathers - a man who I have not met - but was given to me by my mother. This little blade is not what helps me end a fight, but how it's used. Disarming or sticking this thing in a weak point will certainly end a skirmish quickly," the sand cat explained while making stabbing and slashing motions with his knife; his small smirk growing a little wider.

Nack chuckled, "True, yeah, true... What about that machete on your back? Surely that'd do a nasty piece of work on somone?" asked the weasel pointing to the long utility blade on Dune's back.

"Oh, this thing?... I haven't really used it in a fight before, but - I guess I would use it if the situation called for it. I've just been using it to cut trees, clear underbrush, and that kind of business. Besides, it's bit heavy at the end of the blade, so it'd feel kind of weird using it in a fight," Dune stated.

"Yeah, I understand ya," Nack replied.

A moment of silence passed between them before the weasel noticed Dune was still looking at him.

"Uhh... Can I help ya?"

"So?... Don't I get to know anything about you?" asked Dune

"Yeaah... Uh, sure, kid. My name's Nack and we'll just leave it at Nack for now. I come from Weasel city," again, Nack lied,"and I'm one of their top-top-top elite agents," Nack smiled toothily as he continued to weave his tapestry of deceit, "as far as weapons... I've got this sniper rifle that's been with me through thick'n'thin."

Dune looked perplexed at the firearm as Nack produced it out of his pack, "What... Is it?" he asked.

'He doesn't even know what a gun is?... This is gonna be too easy,' Nack thought to himself as he smiled, "It's basically somethin' that shoots a little slug of metal really really fast and really really accurately. If you shoot it at someone in the right spot - POW! - they ain't gettin' up no more!" Nack said with a laugh.

"I see..." stated Dune, feeling a bit better as Nack put the rifle back in its pack.

-

A few more days of walking and finding the trails of other raiders - the pair felt confident they were getting close to wherever it was all of the gangs were gathering. They figured at least one more day of walking and they would be there by the afternoon. However, one more night of sleep was needed. They managed to find some dry wood and started a fire with them. The feline and the weasel ate a pair of birds that Nack had shot out of the sky and cooked over the fire.

As they finished their supper, Dune felt he did not know quite enough about Nack, he thought of the only question that might offer some more insight on the purple weasel.

"Nack?"

"Yeah?"

"You have any family?" Dune asked.

Nack let out a deep chuckle, "Hah... Yeah, I s'pose you could say I got someone I call a relative."

Another awkward moment of silence passed.

"And...?" Dune asked persistently.

"Eh, she's kind of like me... My sis. She runs with some shady types - we ain't exactly best friends, but we've worked together a couple times."

"Yeah?... What's her name?" pryed Dune a little further.

"Hah, you're a persistent little bugger... But if you really gotta know, her name's Nic. Ain't that somethin'? Parents namin' us like that? I think that's why we kinda steered clear of each other. Didn't wanna hear the jokes. But, eh, it ain't worth talkin' bout anymore. We should just get some shut-eye and call it a night," explained Nack as he kicked some sand on the fire.

"Yeah, I suppose so..." stated Dune.

The sand cat curled up around the embers of the dying fire and felt envious of Nack, despite their silly names.

Family was a rare commodity these days.

Pretty good. I'm quite interested in what Nack's up to.

Usually when I read fanfics, they are just fanfics. When I read this, it seems more professional, despite the fact that it is a fanfic. Purely amazing.

"You have been approved, Dune. You have earned our trust for now, sand cat. You are now an official enemy to King Maximilian Acorn and Mobotropolis," rasped Jiles.

Dune sat up from his cot and smiled, "Good."

With that, the ancient rat called the guards in to the tent and had the sand cat released from his shackles. Dune grasped at his sore wrists and followed the rat outside into the biting sun – pulling his hat down low over his eyes. 'Close... Much too close,' thought the sand cat as he was lead by Jiles towards the tent he would share with Nack. Jiles however, turned on his heels towards Dune before they entered and spoke,

“A few rules... Of the camp, before we depart, feline. You're not allowed in the armory, near the council tent, and until we are sure of your... intentions, you will be kept under a watchful eye, is that understood?” spoke the rat with his dusty voice.

Dune nodded, “Yeah... Yes, I understand.”

With this, the rat smiled the most unsettling smile Dune had ever seen – Jiles' upper lip seemed to crook upward and all around into something that resembled a smile, but at the same time made the sand cat feel like he was staring at a monster.

“Good,” the rat wheezed.

Jiles stepped aside and let Dune enter the brownish canvas tent. Inside, Nack was laying on his cot with a leg propped up on his knee and his hat over his face, “they finally letcha out did they?” asked the weasel – his voice slightly muffled through his hat. The sand cat sighed and ran his hands over his face for a moment, “Yeah... Spending a day in the smallest tent of my life was fun. Seems like they're okay with me, though I'm curious as to why they had no problem letting you come right in, Nack,” Dune finished with an annoyed inflection.

Nack hopped up off his cot and shrugged, “Hey, if you're gonna be a good spy you gotta have a good rapport with the underworld, ya get me? Look, I bin' doin' this a lot longer than you have, kid – yeah it sucks you got tossed in the tiny tent for awhile, but hey they bought it right?”

Dune stammered for a moment before Nack interjected, “So... Lighten up! Listen, me and my sis did some bounty huntin' off and on, I got kinduva name for myself doin' it, alright? Besides, that's all this really is, ain't it? We're just doin' this to get a little bit of cash in pockets – we just got different bosses.”

“I'm not -” started Dune loudly, but stopped himself after remembering Jiles words about him being under watch and brought his voice lower, “I'm not doing this for money... or a cause... or for anyone else. I'm doing this because I made a deal with Acorn that if I would do this, he would give me everything he has and knows about Aaamaal.”

'That and there's St. John's lackies keeping an eye on me, making sure I play along,' left out Dune.

Nack narrowed his eyes at Dune and scratched his jaw, “Sounds like a dud deal, Duney boy,” stated the weasel as he hopped back onto his cot. Dune put his hands on his hips, shook his head, and lay down on his cot.

After an hour or so of staring at the flickering candle in their tent, Dune spoke up again, “What do you know about who the 'council' guys are?”, he asked. Nack sat up on his cot and faced the sand cat with his fang-toothed grin,

“Okay, you've got Boe Jack, a jack rabbit who leads a clan of really tough warriors that use spears or javelins or somethin'. There ain't a whole lot of'em, but even I wouldn't wanna mess with'em. Those guys are serious business. Boe is cool as a cucumber, but he's ruthless. He was onutha first guys to follow the mutual friend. After Boe Jack, you got Jiles Mesquite, the old as dirt rat you were talkin' to a minute or two ago. He runs a big gang of really well-trained guys called 'blademen' – you had a lil' run in with'em when we first got here an' you better be lucky I stopped you from stickin' that little cheese knife in one of'em or else Jiles never woulda let you in. Now, I digress Duney boy, I can't say I know much 'bout the rat other than he's old, creepy, and there's somethin' slippery 'bout him. Last, but no where near least, we got Gunnar. He's the chief of a tribe of exiled echidnas – why are they exiled? 'Cuz they use Overlander tech: cars an' guns, 'cept they call those hunks a junk 'badlanders'. Gunnar's a real ragin' bull an' he don't seem to like you so far, so I'd stay away from'im.”

Dune felt the left side of his mouth tighten as he asked, “Overlanders?”

“Yeah, human beens. There was this nasty war a long long time ago where some ancestor of Acorn accidentally got plugged by an Overlander – so, the grand majestic Acorn family ruled no Mobians be allowed to use Overlander weapons. For some reason, this group of echidnas used it anyway and got exiled, therefore we get Gunnar and his group, make sense, Duney boy?”

“I... Suppose so,” stated Dune trying to remember everything.

“Great, awesome, fantastic... C'mon Dune, you're always keepin' us up with questions, let's get some freakin' sleep,” grumbled the weasel as he pinched the flame out on the candle.

-

Gunnar slammed his fist on his table in the private quarters of his tent. Bullets scattered and rolled on the surface and fell into the sand. He swore under his breath and cursed Boe and Jiles. The angry echidna bent over and collected the bullets out of the sand and set them back on his table. He unholstered his pistol and lay it on the table. After removing his belt and holster that hung on his hip, he threw off his worn leather armor off his chest, over his head away from his tied back dreads, and tossed it to the side of his cot. He paced his room a moment with his fingers to his chin before calling one of his exiles into the tent.

“Bring me Commander Delai-Li, I've got a job for her...” demanded Gunnar.

The exile nodded and double-timed out of the tent.

'The rest of those idiots may have their own fools watching that cat, but I've got to put someone I can trust with this,' thought Gunnar.

A few minutes later, a violet-colored female echidna entered the tent, “Yes, Chief Gunnar?”

The chief echidna turned towards her and smiled, “Ah, Commander Delai-Li... Have you heard of the recent addition to our ranks?” he asked.

Delai-Li shook her head, her dread locks swaying lightly, “No, sir, I hadn't.”

“Nack the weasel and... a friend of his. It seems that clumsy and incompetent freelancer brought in a rookie. He looks green, but he's not a push-over. My gut tells me that something isn't right with him. Tomorrow, take him away from the camp and train him with pistols and how to drive our badlanders. Watch him, see what he does, then report back to me after you're done, is that clear, Commander Delai-Li?”

The violet echidna closed her eyes and bowed her head, “Of course, Chief Gunnar.”

“Good, now, dismissed,” he beckoned her away with a wave.

Delai-Li bowed and left Gunnars tent.

After a few moments of being left to himself, the Chief echidna poured himself a cup of amber liquid and drank it slowly - the drink leaving a burning sweetness in his throat, tossing his cup to the sand where it landed with a dull thud.

"Give me a reason to gut you, boy... I'm waiting..." mumbled the echidna to himself with slurred smile.

Hopefully, I'll be able to borrow someone's PC and put out another chapter tonight.

Awesome. Good luck then.

As a side announcement related to this series, I would like to say that I am working on a comic book version of this continuity.

Alright, all chapters are up to date and fixed. The first three chapters have been completely re-written! I tweaked them to fit with the rest of the story and to generally improve on them. I hope everyone enjoys them. Thank you for reading.

The next morning, Nack and Dune both awoke early and trudged their way to the mess hall tent. Inside were long tables with benches that were dotted with raiders eating their fill of slop and gruel. Low murmurs and grunts rose around as the outlaws ate, “Well, c'mon kid, let's get some grub,” said Nack with a shrug. They got in line and each got bowls of white pasty mush. As the pair sat down at the end of a table, avoiding any of the other raiders – who didn't seem to approve of the duo's presence – they dug in.

With each swallow of the slop, Dune was reminded of the night he had met Nack, and how the weasel had poisoned Jaff and Lester. Each spoonful wrought a grimace on Dune's face. The sand cat looked over at Nack and saw that he had no trouble eating, his perpetual fang-grin ever present.

“Nack, I'm not that hungry - I'm just going to dump this stuff, alright?” stated Dune.

The purple weasel waved his hand at Dune, “Yeah, sure kid.”

The feline stood up and tossed his dishes into a large bin near the tables where the other dirty bowls and utensils were dumped. The flies and smell of the bin did not give Dune any incentive to stay around much longer as he turned around to leave the mess hall tent. However, someone was in his way.

An echidna with a violet hue, emerald eyes, and a stern look that said she had something to say.

“You – you're Dune Copperstone, correct?” the echidna said with an official ring to her voice.

Dune narrowed his eyes at the echidna who stood with her hands on her hips, “Yeah, that's me... Can I help you with something?” he asked warily.

None of the other raiders seemed to pay Dune much mind, however, certain raiders were making a higher investment into Delai-Li.

“You're coming with me for a training regiment, feline. By the way, you'll refer to me as 'Commander' – Commander Delai-Li, is that understood?” the violet echidna stated.

“My mistake, 'Commander',” Dune replied dryly.

Delai-Li glared at Dune with annoyed gaze and beckoned him to follow her.

As Dune and Delai-Li left the tent, Nack pulled the brim of his hat low and smiled, 'Finally.'

-

“... should be here within the week, sire,” finished St. John as he slid a small stack of papers inside an envelope. King Acorn let out a relieved sigh and felt a smile slowly grow on his face, “It will be wonderful to finally have Elias and Alicia home again, thank you, Geoffry,” he said calmly. The skunk shifted another manila envelope around and opened it, “Sire, I have the latest update on Copperstone.”

The king opened his eyes and sat up in his throne, “Yes, St. John – what has your surveillance team reported?”

-

Delai-Li's badlander kicked up dust as the aged vehicle roared across the Mobian Badlands. Dune sat in the passenger seat looking at the old car, which seemed to have multiple metals welded together haphazardly to the frame. The sand cat looked out across the Badlands, eying a vast desolate plain with no sign of life, save for the raider encampment they left behind them.

“Why does Gunnar want me to learn how to use his toys?” shouted Dune over the dirty roar of the engine.

“Why don't you go ask him yourself?” she shouted back with a small smug smile.

After a few more minutes of driving far out into the Badlands, Delai-Li stopped the car and the pair climbed out, slamming the doors of the car shut. A few yards away was a make shift target range that the two approached. The violet echidna unholstered her revolver and put it in Dune's hand, “Have you used anything like this before, feline?” she asked him as he gripped the handle firmly, putting his thumb on the hammer.

“No... I've seen something similar, but nothing this small,” Dune stated as he turned the firearm around in his hand, the black sheen of the metal reflecting in the bright daylight. Delai-Li instructed him how to load and prep the weapon, as well as how to aim the revolver. The weight of the gun felt heavy in Dune's hands as he lined the iron-sights up; he aimed at a small glass bottle a few yards away on the range. After taking a few shots, Dune's wrist began to feel sore, “I'm not sure if I like this weapon, Delai-Li,” he stated after dropping the empty shells out of the drum of the revolver and held it out for her.

She took the gun, reloaded it, and holstered the weapon on her hip, “As long as you understand how to use it... That is all that matters for now, feline,” she stated quickly.

Dune bit the side of his cheek for a moment, “You're aware of my name, aren't you?”

The violet echidna smirked and opened the driver side door of the badlander, standing behind it, “It's time for you to learn how to drive, Dune.”

The sand cat smirked himself and walked over to her, “Thank you, Commander Delai-Li,” he said as he sat in the driver seat.

-

“... past two weeks he's been with the weasel, Sire, and if you ask me, I'm almost positive he's gone rogue. With your approval, we'll begin preparation for a strike team to -”

“That won't be necessary, St. John,” interrupted King Acorn.

The skunk looked at the king surprised and began to protest, “But, sir he -”

“I do not need to repeat myself, especially since I do not remember asking you what your recommended course of action was,” stated Acorn, aggravated, “Sending in a team would put Mobotropolis in jeopardy... And I do not believe young Dune would forget our bargain so hastily.”

“I apologize, Sire. Should I keep you posted on his activity?” inquired St. John

“Yes... Yes, please, St. John,” stated King Acorn as he rubbed his temples, “That will be all for now.”

-

Dune pulled up on the handbrake and drifted the car to a grinding halt, fishtailing the car to a stop. With a wide smile on his face, he looked over at Delai-Li who had her hands firmly placed on the dash board with her dreads hiding her face. The sand cat let out a satisfied sigh, “I like this thing,” he said with a chuckle.

“You... Are insane,” Delai-Li said as she attempted to regain her composure, “These cars aren't toys, Dune. They also weren't meant for handling like that. I'm surprised the engine didn't fall out!”

The sand cat laughed a little more sinisterly to himself as he sat back in the drivers seat, extending his feet past the pedals, “Hearing you say that reminds me of someone,” he said quietly.

Delai-Li raised an eyebrow and turned towards the sand cat, “Really now? Who might that be?” she asked.

Dune stammered for a moment, “Eh, no one worth talking about right now,” he quickly spat out.

“It's your mother isn't it?” the violet echidna asked non-chalantly.

He looked at her in shock, “I...”

Delia-Li chuckled lightly, “My father would always say that mothers warn their sons, while fathers encourage their sons to do the things their mothers warned them not to do,” she said with a soft smile.

Surprised, Dune blinked, “I... Never knew my father,” he said lowly.

“... I'm sorry, Dune,” Delai-Li said empathetically, “I never met my mother.”

“All I had was my mother...” he said with a reserved smile, "I always thought I'd have her around."

"Don't we all feel that way about our parents?" asked Delai-Li.

The sand cat brought his eyes up and looked directly into the emerald eyes of the echidna that sat across from him, then looked back down at the dash of the badlander, remaining silent. The only response was the groan of the wind that raced across the dusty plains.

Sharing a sad moment together...while Geoffry keeps trying to get Dune arrested. lol Good stuff.