"BIU-D, list the last known locations of all emeralds."

Seven, sitting in the dark, narrow confines of the saucer-like BIU-D, wore a grim, stern look on his face as he sat bathed in the red interior lights of the craft, staring the glowing screen in front of him. A map popped up at his request.

"Chaos Emerald statuses are as follows. Green: Empire City; current location unknown. Dark blue: Grand Metropolis; currently held by Lochert's group. Sol Emerald statuses are as follows. Green: Empire City; current location unknown. Dark blue: Present. Chaosol Emerald statuses are as follows. Purple: Casino Park; Hot Constellations Casino. Red: Unknown. Silver: Unknown. Light blue: Present. Yellow: ... Present."

Sure enough, the last two gems mentioned sat in an open container set in the console to the boy's left, along with the aforementioned Sol Emerald, and a small, lightning-bolt-shaped stone attached to a chunky, bracelet-like mess of electronics. He idly gazed at the contents; he didn't look happy, however.

"I should never have turned in the green one," he muttered with critical disdain and regret. "Five little freaks with cheap pistols walk in, and in half an hour, the most 'secure' GUN facility left on the face of the planet is vaporized."

"That was your objective," replied BIU-D. "Withholding these three emeralds is already treason."

"Treason would be... giving my idiot 'superiors' something else to lose. Look at it. Historically. Dr. Eggman stole Project Shadow straight out of the Prison Island facility—blew it to pieces. Coopmore stole two emeralds from under the central HQ—blew it to pieces. And now, this. Empire City facility, gone; drones, evaporated. A couple monkeys, a cat, a bat, and a porcupine—"

"Hedgehog," corrected BIU-D, her voice so rigid that it was just a few degrees from impertinent.

"—whatever," continued Seven, "whatever they were—they made fools out of all of GUN. I mean, seriously, this is just... this is trying my suspension of disbelief. How does that even work?"

"Would you like to see surveillance footage or an incident report?" asked BIU-D dutifully.

"The question was rhetorical," sighed Seven.

"Noted."

The boy wriggled and seemingly burrowed rear-first down into his own seat, shoulders pulled up tightly, arms crossed, head jutting forward, and a generally nasty look on his face. His eyes slowly closed. "We gotta to beat them to Vince's emerald," he thought aloud. "Get it—use it to arrange the playing field to our advantage. Get them where I want them. Jack's dumb little circus troupe, too. Kill'em all in one go before they mess up any more plans."

BIU-D was silent.

"How much longer until we reach Westside?" asked Seven.

BIU-D remained silent.

"..."

"... BIU-D?"

"Yes?" answered the AI belatedly.

"You plan on answering me today or what?" spat Seven.

"I thought you were still asking questions I wasn't supposed to answer," she replied.

Seven frowned steeply. "I'll tell you when I'm being rhetorical, alright?"

"I have no opinion on whether or not your decision is 'alright', as it is nonvital to mission success, and I am not programmed to have preferences," she answered matter-of-factly.

Seven pulled the skin of his face down about four inches farther than it belonged and made a gargling noise.

"Mute, BIU-D," he barked, then somehow found a way to slide farther down into his seat. (There wasn't much room left before he'd be in the cramped floorboard.) He began manually navigating maps on the screen. Vince's casino appeared on screen, along with some tall, metal tower. After just a little plotting he seemed satisfied, leaned back in his seat, and plucked the bracelet from its storage space.

He turned it over in his grasp and examined it for a moment. The gemstone was dull and lifeless, just as it had been ever since it was removed from Jam's wrist, but the meters and LEDs on the device burned vividly.

"I'm really gonna enjoy this so much."


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