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Writing Prompt: Nine's finally had enough of getting bullied by the other foxes for his two tails. He builds his seven other robotic tails. Then he teaches his bullies a bitter lesson.

Oh, thank you for the ask! And good prompt too! I've always imagined how Nine dealed with his bullies, and I have a few ideas, I just haven't had a reason to write them until now!

I hope you like it! If y'all have anything you want to ask (could be requests for stories, questions about things you want to know, or theories you want to share,) go ahead and do so, I don't bite!

Anyway, onto the story!

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That was it.

He was done being nice. They hurt him, mocked him, and beat him for far too long. He had tried everything. He tried ignoring it and he ended up with bruises, he tried to be nice to them, but all he got were mocking words, he tried avoiding them, and the beatings and taunting were only harsher.

Nobody helped him. Nobody ever did. When they noticed they'd ignore what was happening, or they'd join in. He couldn't trust anyone to help, people only cared about themselves.

Why shouldn't he follow that rule?

He was making something, something that would end all of it. The mocking, the scorning, the jeers, the beatings, it all would end when he was finished. He was almost done, they were almost complete.

The invention that would change everything. No more bullies, no more abuse, no more jeers or disgusted looks, all of it would stop when these were finished.

Looking back, inventing used to be fun, for a short while. He remembers wagging his tails when he had an idea for something new, something revolutionary.

Now it was a necessity, something that he needed, that he didn't find fun, but needed and serious. He missed those simple wags of happiness, now he didn't wag them at all.

There's nothing to be happy about anymore.

He smirked, not with joy or excitement, but satisfaction and smugness, sadistic and revenge-driven thoughts ran through his head.

They were done.

He was ready.

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The cries of several foxes and other animals were music to Miles's sadistic ears.

It wasn't a pretty sight, some had deep bruises, some sprained, and some were bleeding.

But not Miles.

For the first time, he was completely unscathed. No bruises other than the ones already there, and no new scratches. He was fine.

Miles felt himself slightly getting giddy at the power he now holds over them. There they were, sobbing, begging for mercy, looking at him with fear and pain that he relished.

They should fear him. That's what they get for never trying to love him.

Nobody did.

He wasn't interested in taking control of the city, though he could do it easily if he so tried. But the smallest bit of power left him with a twisted sense of joy.

The tears on his previous abuser's faces were diamonds and riches to him. He hit jackpot at that moment.

Now they knew to leave him alone, now he won't ever get hurt again.

They called him things he wasn't surprised about, wasn't anything he never heard before.

'Monster', 'beast', 'freak', and more he's heard before.

Maybe he was a monster for doing this, but he didn't care. If being a monster kept everyone away from him, then so be it.

Hmm..

If he was a monster then he should change his name. Miles made him feel like he had an identity. Like he was human. He wasn't treated like he was, so maybe he never was. So he needs something new.

He looked at his new tails. He didn't have two anymore. He used irony harshly against them, beating them with the very things they outcasted him for. He grinned. He had seven more.

He had nine now.

Nine.

What a perfect name for a monster...