Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It was cold.

Really cold.

He was enveloped by this green liquid that stuck to his fur like slime. It felt wet. It purged all outside noise and left only the faint thump within his chest.
He looked down, wires clung to him, carved deep within his wrists. Machines drilled a hole beneath his skin, piercing deep into his chest. 

They were reworking his veins. A brand-new ruby red heart jutted out.

His chest felt light. He felt weightless. The pain persisted.

The black jackal, wafted in the tube, tail swishing absentmindedly, although constrained. His leather gloved hands remained stationary by his side, fluid seeping through open fingers. A vivid red eye, with a piercing yellow iris, stared straightforwardly out at his surroundings, blurred and tinged with a green hue. No discernible emotion could be detected through his cold metallic mask.

The green vanished, gurgling as it seeped beneath the drain. A shuttering sound from just outside the glass made him snap to attention, forcing him onto his feet in an unsteady stance. The overwhelming silence that he became accustomed to had dissipated.

The curious robot Cubot had his face pressed up against the door, eyes clicking as his metal eyes pinched shut. It was perched on a stool with a cloth, wiping the glass down with lacking precision. Infinite glared daggers at Cubot, who waved cheerfully in response undeterred. It shouted and hollered gleefully, pointing down at him with modulated guffaws, which had been vaguely muffled behind the glass, before rapidly tapping against his confines to elicit a response.

Infinite wanted nothing more than to rip the robot's circuits apart, by his own hands.

Eggman swung open the glass door.

He looked down at the red glowing gem embedded in his chest, comically large grin beaming across his face, which Infinite creaked his neck up to witness. Eggman pinched the wires out of his system, ripping rather abruptly despite the groans of discomfort from the jackal. The metallic ends clanged against the glass of the pod.

The room was filled with empty pods in parallel lines basked in green glow, all hooked to a control panel in the back. A large wire twirled around the glass, rhythmically pulsating with blue lights. The screen in front, connected via tube, was titled 'Project Infinite'. His new namesake he'd been christened with. It was powerful. It was a fitting marker for his new beginning. It displayed his form in pink dots with an obvious highlight at the triangular ruby on his chest.
He could barely connect the two, that it was him over there. He was the one being monitored.It just didn't feel real.

He was Infinite. Nothing else mattered. Everything that came before served as a prelude.

He was led down through the hallways, into a new room. The door hissed as they entered closer. It split into two halves, then as they gained entrance it snapped back shut. The room was cubic, with blank white tiles and panelled white walls. The only light source was the insubstantial illumination coming from a glowing panel above.

"The ruby is rather new. The full capabilities are yet to be discovered but I would like you to get acquainted with the basics." The doctor explained. "The primary form of attack and defence are red cubes. You can make them appear at will."

He took a courteously generous step back. "Give it a try."

Infinite held out a hand in front of him, with the Doctor's expectant gaze set upon him. An apple sized cube materialised, weightless in his palm. He curiously raised a finger, and caught the floating cube before the fall, twirling it on his finger by the corner. He put his hand by his side, and the cube plummeted to the floor, dissipating and leaving no traces.

"Now wasn't that easy? Give this a shot."

Out of compartments on the walls came crude stuffed animal plushies held by a mechanical claw, one blue, one orange and one red. All three snapped into place with a single click.
He raised one gloved hand, and out came a volley of cubes. Three launched in succession, gelatinous with a pristine sheen. They hit the blue stuffed hedgehog with considerable force, piercing the stitching and causing an explosion of stuffing and fading red dust. Infinite smirked. The power came so naturally to him.

He swiped upwards, creating a replica of the red stuffed echidna. It bore exact resemblance to the original, the same weight, the same felt texture. Within a second it fell victim to gravity and dropped to the floor.

He then swiped his hand in a downwards arc, his hand ending at the floor. After a second, the replica crumbled into red cubes.

"Is that all?" He questioned, imperiously. The power itched within his fingertips.

"There is one final demonstration. It will require a target who's a little more active."

From the ceiling, a barred cage descended. It contained a petrified looking white dove, wearing a purple dress adorned with a multitude of orange bows, at the back of the bars. Her glossy pink makeup and eyeliner had smudged down her cream coloured beak, culminating in a swirl of grey. Crawling forward with an intense burst of energy, she reached her bare hands through the bars, begging for release to deaf ears.

He reached out his hand once more, swiping his hand to the right in an arc. The same volley of cubes. When they struck her, she toppled to the ground, head slamming back against the bars upon her descent.

Her blue eyes burst open in a panic. Seemingly forgetting about her previous drive to escape, she scuttled to the back of her jail like an insect. Her mind was so agitated that despite her obvious confinement, she continued to scurry backwards, her legs futilely kicking and propelling her backwards to a safety that didn't exist.Infinite took a concerning interest in watching her squirm in the cell.

'Upon impact, the ruby implants delusions into your brain, your deepest fears. What scares you the most. It seems so real, it's like a lucid dream. She can still see us, interact with us. She might even be picturing herself in another location right now. It's like seeing your sleep paralysis demon, but without the paralysis.' Eggman explained. "I ran tests on Orbot and Cubot, but it seems like it works just even better on mobians! A brilliant success!"

"Being controlled by fear, what a weak individual." Infinite sneered, pressing his face against the bars, as if she were a zoo exhibit. The point of his mask poked through the bars. The dove's pupils were like pinpricks, fixated on an imaginary being seemingly towering Infinite. "What is she so frightened of?"

"That's for her to know. But presumably, it's big. Hypothetically, the effects should last for about a minute. That will be more than enough time to distract our enemies and take victory!"

"Exquisite. The weak submit to the strong. Her last moments will be painful."

"Last moments? I didn't tell you to..!"

He unleashed a volley of cubes that advanced in a direct, continuous path. Upon passing through the bars, they battered her chest. Her trembling subsided, and her body crumpled upon impact.Eggman looked dumbfounded. "....kill her."

"I believe that's enough for now, Infinite." the Doctor insisted hurriedly, his voice harsh and imposing. Sensing discomfort, the jackal lowered his hands and complied.

Eggman guided Infinite out of the room, with a hand forcefully pushing him out. Willingly complying, he looked behind him with great pride until he was guided to the next room. It was a dark computer room, illuminated by the glow of a dozen monitors. They all showed grainy security footage from various cameras across the facility. All seemed quiet and orderly.

The Doctor typed into the keyboard, pressed a few buttons and hit enter triumphantly. A new tab opened on a high monitor, displaying a text conversation between two people beforehand. From where Infinite stood, it looked blurry and pixelated.

"I believe you're ready. I will need you to head to Sunset Heights." he continued. With a few more clicks, Eggman pulled up a map of South Island, with the particular location highlighted.

The next monitor showed an image of a blue hedgehog, jumping carefree in some a grassy field. He knowingly glanced at the camera, and grinned cockily. He was taunting them, challenging them to come get him.

Infinite couldn't help but feel provoked by him- his proud, smiling face, his bravado. The sheer audacity of this hedgehog. The way he stared at him, with cocked brows. The hedgehog thought he was untouchable. The arrogance was aggravating.

"Take him alive. That's your first mission." 

Infinite couldn't wait to take him down a peg.

Chapter Text

Sonic held a broken bracelet in his fingers, crouched over sealed up boxes of old treasures.. The handle had split in two, and the bulbous green gem had a crack in it. It survived the perilous battle against Dark Gaia, it survived possibly billions of years around his old friend Chip’s neck, but the one time he decided to wear it outside, it could not survive him. He just had to trip over his own feet and tumble on the grass.

Chapter Text

A dozen people gathered in this square, a couple of shops across and one shop across. Sunset Heights was no Central City, but still moderately sized. Thousands of mobians called it their home. With stones paving the streets and bright red and orange homes, mimicking a sunset. Mobians chattered amongst themselves, families sat at the edge of the fountain, which sat at the middle of the square. Couples strolled along with hands entwined. A teal cat with purple boots and a matching beanie was playing a tune on their acoustic guitar by the corner, with a couple of onlookers gathered to watch. It was something light, airy and pleasant to his ears. Sonic perked his head up to try and get a glimpse. And soon enough, a sizable number of mobians gathered to watch too.

No matter how relaxing the ambience was, or how perfectly warm the weather was, or how much laughter and cheerful cries of glee came from the mobians frolicking in the sun, it didn’t feel right. Just across the city, at the very end was a factory full of hostile robots. Eggman was out there devising another evil scheme, somewhere. It would most likely be devastating. Those joyous civilians suddenly no longer brought a contented smile to his muzzle, instead seeing them as what they really were. Totally unprepared. Nervously, he crossed his legs, then crossed them the other way. 

Sonic could help but notice a man in a metallic grey mask amongst the crowd, yet turned away from the guitarist, and seemingly fixated on him with one piercing yellow eye. While everyone around him was so joyous and relaxed, he was stiff. His posture was unnaturally straight. His body glistened in sweat, probably due to his black fur, black gloves and black shoes, and of course, the heavy mask that covered even his ears. Bad move to wear that in August.

The music came to a climactic finish. All others filled with joy, clapping, cheering words of encouragement. An orange dog placed ten rings in the guitar case, earning a heartfelt thanks from the player. Even Sonic clapped with an earnest smile, ceasing when the cheers turned to chatter. The sound of rushing water filled the square once more.

Yet the stranger still had his back turned. He was entirely silent, and unmoved by the world around him. One hand was balled into a fist. He looked back and forth, almost like he was waiting for someone to show up. And was that the red chaos emerald on his chest? Just what was his deal?

Sonic truly felt famous, with all this attention he was getting that day.

The stranger turned slightly to the right. Under the sunlight, it began looking more pink. The texture seemed less like the hard, dense chaos emeralds and more like resin. Those black triangular lines that floated within looked like little tadpoles trapped within. And as he stared at it, the lines moved outwards, originating in the middle of his ruby and pinching outwards. It was mesmerising. Just like watching the DVD player logo bounce across a black screen.

Sonic smiled at him, reaching out a hand in a friendly wave. He didn’t wave back. However, they did walk forwards, in a straight line with zero regard for any of the people surrounding him. His eyes never wavered from the hedgehog. He sure was determined.

He stopped as he reached the table.

‘What’s up, kid? I noticed you were staring at me. You lost?"

Sonic impishly greeted, a smirk forming on his mouth.

‘I’m not a child.’ he muttered. His weight shifted to the other leg, and he crossed his arms succinctly. His voice was unexpectedly deep.

‘Oof, sorry gramps. You need something?’. Sonic crossed one leg over the other, slumping forward on his chair. He drummed his fingers against the table idly.

The stranger paused, racking their brain for any kind of response. Sonic didn't know whether to chalk it down to shyness, or him making something up on the spot. He got all kinds of people greeting him throughout his travels, nothing was new to him. Sonic nodded, as if to ease him onwards.

He finally spoke after several awkward seconds of nothingness. Sonic couldn't tell if it was all an act.

‘I’ve just been a big fan of yours for a while, I really admire your strength, your heroic nature.’ Those words felt uncomfortably bitter on the stranger's tongue. His voice lacked the enthusiasm or excitement Sonic expected. His eye sometimes moved a little, and his bushy tail sometimes swooshed behind him (which Sonic found rather mesmerising), but other than that, the stranger was static in their expression. Sonic didn't even see him blink once. It was like talking to a robot. Even his voice had some kind of filter on top of it. It was like he was being told to say this. Like he was fed lines from a certain someone.

Sonic kept those suspicions firmly implanted in his mind, yet disregarded them for the time being.

‘Oh, it’s nothing really. Just gotta do what I need to do!’ He replied, avoiding his awkward delivery so as not to discourage him. Sonic chose to give him the benefit of the doubt, that he was just an awkward guy. He knew plenty of awkward people, even Tails struggled with eye contact sometimes. He'd never shut up about airplane knowledge at the dinner table. Even that red wolf kid was a little awkward. But it was endearing. Like underneath it all, they had interesting passions to talk about. Sonic appreciated such honesty and joy above all. He had doubts this guy was the same, however.

The stranger asked, unsuredly. ‘May I have an…’

‘A picture? An autograph?’ He answered, preemptively. He swayed to the side whimsily, tilting his head to the side. ‘A hug, perh-’

‘Autograph’. He stated, bluntly, before he could finish.

Thank God he didn’t have to hug this dude. 

‘An autograph? Oh yeah, sure, sure.’ he answered.

He looked around for anything he could write on. What harm could an autograph even do?

Tails just told me not to write on his stuff. Do I have anything else? Did I bring some paper or something? 

I could use his pencil, right? Oh, dang, where did he put the pencil? 

He put his entire head under the table, lifting up the books, shuffling the chairs back and forth, knowing it was just hidden in some crevice. Or maybe he was actually just holding it this whole time?

Sonic glanced at his obviously empty hand. No, he wasn’t .

He wanted to speak, to kill the gap between the two. Not as an idol down to his fan, but as a mobian to a mobian. He was strange, but that's exactly what intrigued the hedgehog. While all the other brightly coloured, jovial mobians in the square dressed in their finely ironed casual clothes, this guy had a pointy mask, a tattered scarf, messy white hair and a bright triangular gem that stuck out of his chest. His entire getup screamed 'edge', and Sonic couldn't help but think he looked cool, despite the potential danger he could have been in. The red eye was surrounded by black jagged borders, like he was wearing thick eyeliner. 

Sonic couldn't help but wonder if his eye was naturally all red or it was the mask. He remembered seeing someone like that in a dream once.

Sonic bent down to trace the cracks of the cobbles below, with his finger. "So, are you like some kind of wolf? A fox?" he asked, partly with genuine intrigue.

"I am a jackal." The stranger was quick to answer.

"Never seen one of those before? You live here?"

"I have lived here all my life." 

Figured. Sonic didn't live on South Island.

Sonic pulled his head up, from under the table. His ear scraped past the wood, making him run his hand over it. The masked figure pulled out a pen and a scrap of paper, about half a notebook page. He held it out in front of him, expectantly waiting. How long was he standing there? 

Sonic's head was barely above the table, with just his nose poking over.

‘Oh, you came prepared.’ Sonic forced out a chuckle with a deadpan expression. He sat back on his chair, pulling it back towards the table after him. His voice raised in pitch in embarrassment. "Did you always have that?"

The stranger didn't answer. Sonic was tired of the small talk, too. Sonic grabbed hold of the pen, scribbling a little message on the paper with little thought or hesitation.

‘Your name?’ Sonic asked. He raised an eye to look up at the stranger, who looked down on him intensely.

‘Infinite.’ He responded, proudly.

‘Ouch, that’s edgy.’ He scoffed, a little smirk appearing on his face. ‘I'd bet you'd be a fan of Shadow the Hedgehog, right? He seems right up your alley.’

He grumbled under his breath, but most of the noise was blocked by his heavy mask.

"What do you know about him?" His question sounded more hostile, and Sonic couldn't fathom why.

"We're totally besties. Saved the world together more than once. We beat each other senseless sometimes but we're cool. He's totally a softie underneath all that edge, but you didn't hear that from me." Sonic explained with a wink, leaning in close and holding a hand over the side of his mouth. A smile beamed on his face, one bright and warm.

The stranger didn't formulate a response to him this time. All he could hear was him grumbling under his breath. He sounded oddly offended?

Sonic wanted to change the topic from Shadow as it seemed like an awfully touchy subject, just as he was finishing scribbling down on the paper. He'd accidentally filled the whole page with his handwriting.

"So, Infinite, how'd you get that name? Your mother name you that?"

"I earned it." He said, defensively. Sonic was rather confused, and despite it making him sound like a douchebag, he found his snappy demeanour funny. If Infinite was a true fan, he'd know that he didn't hold back on his quipping. Nobody was safe from it.

"It’s a cool name! Very mysterious.’ Sonic said overdramatically. He reached his hand up. ‘And that mask! Distinct! You could juice an orange with that!’

Sonic's smile quickly faded when he realised Infinite was not laughing back. His tensed hands by his side balled into fists. Did he hit a nerve or something?  

He handed the scrap back. Infinite glanced at it, picking it up with both hands.

‘To Infinite’ , it read. ‘Thanks for stopping by!’

The message was littered with crossings out. Signed below was Sonic’s name with a little doodle of himself winking, with sparkles radiating around him, however the ink was so spotty it just looked like assorted ink splotches.

And as wordlessly as he entered, he left. Without a thank-you or goodbye, he walked back the way he came. Sonic heaved a sigh of relief, and fell to the back of his chair with ease. Infinite was gone. His hands dangled down the side of the chair, and he pouted, cheeks puffing out. He really, really, needed that lemon ice cream now.

Still, he couldn’t quite believe that’s really all Infinite wanted.

The pen on the table began to glow red. The pen that wasn't his.

‘Hey, pointy! You left your pen. You want it back or nah?’ He announced, standing up, propelling the chair back regardless of the horrific scraping sounds. He was uncertain if the man could hear him through the renewed guitar strumming, or the ambient sounds of the water rushing, or the multitude of mobians chatting. He raised his arm to twiddle the pen between his fingers.

Infinite did not turn around, he walked so upright and almost politely. Sonic found him really odd. Almost uncannily odd.

Instead he waved his hand behind him. Alarmingly, his body began to glow a vibrant red, the same red shade as the pen.

What was it? Was this just a trick? Was there a robot inside this?

Sonic just knew he was working for Eggman. There was no way he wasn’t. He had all the edge, the fashion sense and the boisterous nature of someone carrying out his evil actions. It all added up.

Touching the red solid felt strange, it tinged his vision red and tingled his fingers like pins and needles. It made a horrible static sound, and soon the plastic coating turned a vibrant red. Red, jelly-like cubes emanated from it, more and more. He shrieked as a blast like an electric shock coursed through him. It felt cold. His fingers slipped, and the pen clanged onto the table. Sonic felt his quills stand on edge. He shook it off. 

He picked it up once more in between his fingers, curiously. He held his nose up against it. It was odourless. It sizzled and crackled, gaining the attention of those around him. They all turned to gawp at this mysterious pen, some even stepping back and guiding their children back. Sonic didn't get it himself. It wasn't until the red light engulfed his hand that he began to really start worrying.

And Infinite looked directly at him from the middle of the square, hands by his side and expression unbothered. Sonic called out to him and pointed to this pen, giving a smile overshadowed by his doubts. Infinite acknowledged, following along with his eyes, but never responded.

It hissed, whistling like a kettle. 

"I'll deal with this, everyone stay back!" He announced, turning his head to face everyone, motioning everyone back. They willingly stepped back, just as he suggested.

Sonic tossed it straight upwards with a quick throw, dusting his hands off and placing them on his side contently. It twirled in the air, carrying the exact same weight as a regular pen, but instead made up of unnaturally bright red cubes. It descended downwards, with the effects of gravity still in place. The townspeople all turned to attention. Sonic was more baffled than anything.

Suddenly, an explosion of pure red occured. A flurry of cubes engulfed the square. Brightness encapsulated his entire field of vision.

Sonic could hear some poor people converse amongst themselves, questioning what on earth was happening, what kind of firework that was and why it was so bright.

And then, it all stopped. The floodgates burst open. A crash so loud it burst his eardrums, all facets of the soundscape of Sunset City- all at once. The overwhelming white, the culmination of all the sun’s rays hit his vision and stung inside and out. His entire body went limp, momentarily. And like a flash, everything whirred back into place.

His world was consumed by this red tint, filtering his vision. He could barely breathe in the hazy air. Cubes lined the borders of his vision, before thankfully sizzling out.

But the screams of panic felt all too real. They got louder, and louder, before tuning out into a high pitched whistle that rang in his brain.

Sonic grimaced.

‘Get up dude, you’re on the floor.’ 

His inner voice was screaming at him now.

‘People need you! What’s the hold up?’ 

He glanced upwards. He was laying on his stomach. The entire square was engulfed by flickering flames, bathing what was left of the square in a red glow. The clear summer sky was a sickening blood red, and the clouds had turned a pitch black, instead of a fluffy white. The fountain’s stony outside had a huge crack in the side, spilling out old rusty rings and all the many litres of collected water.

It did nothing for the fires.

What remained of a guitar and the soles of someone’s eerily still purple boots poked out from under a crumbling wall.

There he was. Infinite floated in the air, propelled by his cubes, claw-like hands primed and revelling in their newfound power. 

"What even is your deal, pointy ?" he grumbled, eyebrows furrowing. Sonic put a fist to the ground, attempting to rise to his feet. Infinite looked down upon him acutely, scrutinising his every move. He was covered in a shroud of red haze, which fizzled with almost computer-like glitching effects like lightning to a storm cloud.

"You know, I can't let you go without beating you down, even if you are a 'fan' ." He said, standing tall and confidently. Despite his annoyance and his confusion, he still smiled.

He brushed his thumb against his nose, and with a trademark grin and a huff, he sprung upwards, curled up in a ball, then drilled into him with a homing attack. It happened in a second, with the jackal unable to counter in time, let alone register his advance. Infinite groaned in a mix of frustration and pain, as he was struck in the chest. Sonic, landing back on his feet, slid back and jumped back up for another shot just before Infinite could hit the ground. Leaping backwards once he got solid footing, Sonic dashed back, knocking down Infinite, briefly immobilising him. He rolled to a stop, with his tail wrapped around his legs and his hands clawing against the floor desperately.

Infinite was now writhing the floor, soggy and bruised with a hurt ego. He cried out, his groans sounded like croaks. Sonic brushed the dirt off his gloves triumphantly.

It wasn’t until Sonic looked around, did he really begin to notice what Infinite had truly done. The colour from his muzzle faded. Those four mobians who were with him, seemingly vapourised. The wood chairs they were in, collapsed under heavy strain. All that was left of them was a deep red blood stain marking their former presence in the cracked furniture. He couldn’t even joke or quip about this. He was truly perplexed, horrified that this would happen so quickly. But not surprised . It was the destructive handiwork of one another of Eggman’s lackeys.

The fire raged ever stronger. The air felt oppressive, and his breaths were already laboured.

“What did you-” Sonic muttered, so muted only he could hear. 

But his mind was swimming with thoughts, warnings and everything in between. He had no time to sit down and dwell. He didn’t even want to dwell, he needed to run. His mind was so clouded that it couldn’t even reach in his brain to move. It was like his arms were waterlogged and his feet were smothered in glue.

He couldn’t even see a survivor in here. Those screams he heard, before vanished. The crinkling of the fire overcame it.

Everyone… where were they? They were just here!

Another blood stain right beside his feet, another set on the fountain. A much smaller stain, denoting what was left of a child. Sonic felt sick at the thought of that.

This could not have been real.

Mere minutes ago he was fine, he was having a fun time outside. This was some kind of crazy nightmare. Tails would wake him up, and he’d eat his lemon ice cream, and he’d go to that patisserie and buy an apple tart and keep it in the fridge for next morning’s breakfast. Then he’d go back to Emerald Beach and sleep it all off in a deckchair.

Where even was Tails?

Sonic called out for his friend, but to no avail.

A sudden wave of panic hit him. He didn't get vapourised, did he?

Sonic found himself even less able to breathe. He wanted to laugh and joke about this, but there was no one here. No one to save or to protect. Everyone was gone and he was the only one left. 

Why did this happen now, of all times?

Sonic knew it. This was a really, really bad nightmare. How much of the day was a nightmare was unknown, but it was just conceived out of stress. He wanted the day out with Tails to go so perfectly, that his mind started considering the most ludicrous possibilities of what could possibly ruin it.

It had him fooled at the start. Just his mind playing tricks again. The perfect day, meeting a new friend, new wisp buddy, running through old familiar lands. He set himself up for this, and only he was to blame.

He felt at ease after that. Sonic just had to convince himself not to panic. Nothing could hurt him if he just paid no heed to it. He’d wake up eventually, no worse for wear.

The fire did not spread. It felt more like set decoration, like it was all under control by some higher power.

Sonic looked down, noticing a wet red patch. He poked at it, feeling around for some kind of source. Everywhere he felt, felt the same. Just blank. Now his glove was all wet.

Infinite was still struggling on the ground, forgotten by Sonic. Despite mentally insisting he was fine, the hedgehog held his bloody stomach with a shaking hand.

And without warning, Infinite flung more cubes at Sonic’s back, eliciting a grunt from the dazed hedgehog. He was on his hands and knees. Sonic lurched forwards.

“Sonic, help me!”

Sonic heard a shrill scream coming from in front of him. His eyes snapped to the source of the noise.

‘Buddy?’ He called out. 

Not Tails, why him?

That was Tails’ voice. In the ice cream shop. Well, what was left of it. Now it had been reduced to rubble.

He noticed an ashy gloved hand slither out from underneath the bricks, cubes and debris, trembling and snaking out further. It shuddered.

Sonic figured he’d have to play along. Even if this Tails wasn’t real, he could never just leave him in there.

‘You okay in there, buddy?” He called out, flatly. His legs trembled and threatened to give out at any moment. Pure adrenaline kept him afloat.

He turned away from Infinite, who had scrambled up on his knees desperately.

Sonic got down on his hands and knees, rummaging through the debris, clawing through the stones. His arms felt like jelly, lifting one stone alone was arduous. He growled, dropping the stone in his grip and letting it tumble down. Despite his dream state, the rock felt seriously weighty.

“Hey buddy, still there?” he asked, all the swirling thoughts of anxiety subdued into a more jovial and casual tone. It was one more recognisable, and perhaps more comforting. He wrestled his fingers into the crevices of stone, and yanked them back out seconds later. Nothing came of it, except for dust and slight tears in the fabric.

Infinite took his chance. He held out his hand, unleashing a volley of cubes. It hit Sonic from his front, propelling him in the straight path like a wave, knocking him onto his back. He heard a deafening crack, unsure if it were the stone wall his back collided with, or his bones. Either way, it hurt.

“Turning away from me like a coward, I see.” He snickered slyly. “Afraid of defeat?”

Sonic was on his hands and knees. “If it’s a fight you want, Pointy. I’m willing to go. But don’t bring my friends into this.”

“Don’t call me that .” he sharply retaliated. “My name is Infinite.”

“Oh? Pointy ? Offended by that, Pointy ?” he jeered, as he leaned in closer with a haughty grin. “Can dish it out but can’t take it back, Pointy?”

Sonic attempted to lift his body up. His feet now on solid ground failed to support the weight of his trembling ashy hands. He intook sharp, rapid breaths through his nose.

Infinite stood tall and proud in front of him, posture straight. One hand gripped his mask.

“Your devotion to your friend is laughable. They will be your downfall. You can trust nobody but yourself.”

“I’m so tired of you, Pointy . Time to put up or shut up!” he provoked, balling his hands into fists out in front of him. He made preparatory jabs in the air, yet without the force to make it intimidating.

Infinite was just a being made up by his brain to spook him. So why should he care what he thought?

With a puff of fleeting red smoke, Infinite’s form tinged a dark purple, starkly contrasting the red, almost pinkish tint of the ruby. The gem now emitted an intense light, with black lines pulsating, twisting and reforming on the ruby's surface. He rose up into the air, towering feet above the hedgehog. Without second thought, Sonic sprung up to gain height, before curling up into a ball and launching himself at him with a newfound fury. Infinite moved quickly to the left, with Sonic confusedly falling back down.

Sonic heard Tails call out for him again. The fox wept, he feared for his life, his frenetic screaming cut short by a bout of hearty coughs. He mentioned how his vision was starting to go dark. He begged to know why Sonic took so long to rescue him. He hadn’t heard his brother cry with such ferocity in years.

For once, he felt truly scared. It wasn’t real but that raw burst of Tails’ bitter resentment hit his heart harder than any strike from the Jackal could ever do.

A lone tear rolled down his muzzle, before it sizzled and evaporated.

He thought of anything he could say to his brother. He thought of reassurances, promises, jokes, anything to put his mind at ease. He had nothing to offer him and nothing to say. He was just as hurt, scared and utterly confused at this strange dream as he was.

Unfortunately, that second spent brainstorming put him at a major disadvantage.

Infinite swiped at a distracted Sonic with a leg sweep, bending his leg sideways in a startlingly painful angle. A swift punch, with a newfound surge of incredible force propelled Sonic forcefully chest-first into the stone wall, leaving a crack mark upon his impact and undeniably on his ribs too. Sonic rebounded back, feebly and aimlessly stumbling, trying to regain some semblance of steadiness on his feet. His mind was dazed, yet his feet begged to run. As Sonic cried out in pain, the swathes of air reaching him stabbed against his lungs. Sonic struggled for breath, Infinite swooped in with an uppercut to the jaw, launching him upwards once more.

He called out for Tails once more, probably apologising. He forgot what exactly passed through his brain and escaped his lips. Infinite chuckled and ranted on about how friends are bad, probably. Sonic wasn't paying attention.

Infinite, darting through the air at lightning speed, juggled Sonic’s body in the air, passing it back and forth to himself as if he were a hot potato. Infinite whizzed through the air, red sparks rippling through the air and off his glowing form. With every collision of Infinite's fist against Sonic's skin, he felt, tasted and saw static. It consumed him, until the world around him dissipated into unreality. 

Infinite launched one final, devastating kick, with the hedgehog collapsing to the pavement. The paved stones splintered. It all went hazy for Sonic.

Sonic's scream of pain became a garbled moan, with mind scrambled and mouth full of blood. His field of vision was coloured red.

You couldn’t die in a dream . Sonic shut his eyes, shrivelling up his face. It was all he could freely do. He wanted to pinch himself awake, but without control of his hands the task was impossible.

Infinite menacingly cackled, descending triumphantly to the floor. Despite everything, Sonic desperately tried to cling onto consciousness. He gasped a breath, aching jaw resting upon the wet stones. His mouth tasted metallic, and the air felt stale and like sandpaper grinding against his lungs. His fingers tingled, shuddering and clamouring for another fight, another chance to live. His body disagreed. His legs gave out before he could even try to run.

The pain felt real.

Sonic couldn’t come up with a one liner in time, barely choking out a few meaningless syllables before his mouth clogged up with fluid. He looked up pleadingly, feeling the warm blood trickle down his muzzle. He felt so lightheaded, and his entire body went cold and numb. His muzzle went blue. His lungs ached every time he moved. He could feel something stabbing into them as he breathed in and out. His hand reached up to Infinite, who towered above him. His expression was resolute.

If this really was a dream, why had he never seen Infinite before in his life? And were you even supposed to lose this much blood?

Infinite stomped down on his writhing wrist until he heard a snap. Sonic's hand went limp. He didn't feel a thing anymore

The last sound he could hear was Tails’ frantic pleas for help, before everything went dark. His little brother was cursing him. Sonic had let him down, apparently.

He was fully convinced he’d wake up at any second in his bed, in cold sweat and gasping for air.

Chapter Text

Shadow had been an ocean away, in his second floor Central City apartment. He'd been watching a rerun of Chao in Space 2, his favourite one in the series, with shrimp-like posture. He was in a fluffy red dressing gown eating a plate of stuffed nachos, fresh out of the microwave. The lights, off. The windows shut. The blinds, down. The air con, blasting. 

Omega was weighing the whole sofa down, every moment he sat on his side of the sofa, the stitches binding it together strained horribly. He did not object to Shadow resting his feet on him like he was part of the furniture. The robot was enthralled by the movie, despite his unmoving form. The red lights of his eyes never left the screen. His processors whirred just as the tension rose and he remained dead silent through the entire duration.

The chao were wandering aboard the gigantic space station. The music was tense. The dim emergency lights had just flicked on, and sirens blared. Orchestral hits pushed the speakers to their limit, and the system rocked and shuddered against the carpeted floor.

Shadow had seen this movie dozens of times, most times during bouts of insomnia or after a particularly frustrating day at GUN headquarters. Despite unwilling, he could recall scenes off by heart. The plight of the chao, who spoke in a childish gibberish and clumsily waddled on their feet, never failed to captivate. He picked up another piping hot nacho, taking an eager bite out of half with the stuffing spilling out, before quickly swiping that up too.

He'd been forced to keep his phone on vibrate, at least to appease Rouge who constantly griped and moaned about him missing vital GUN intel, simply because 'he didn't wish to be perceived.' Turned out, the one time he actually willingly picked up his phone with the messenger ID displayed, GUN sent him a wordy PDF document, which Shadow proceeded to peruse through loosely. In the background, the chao chirped and screeched, as lasers pewed and airships roared in the twinkling theatre of space. Explosions pounded through the speakers, all while the musical score rose to its climax. Despite the superficially endless paragraphs of military jargon in font size 10, with one eye on the Chao and the other glossed over the text, one point was made abundantly clear.

Eggman was in the middle of wreaking havoc in Sunset City, on South Island.

Shadow already knew why, but he couldn't help but wonder how. How was this time any different from the hundreds of failed attempts that preceded?

GUN were relatively scarce on the numbers and specifics. They got a tipoff from an anonymous source who somehow got hold of a GUN communicator. It was a panicked, clamorous phone call from the midst of the chaos. Unrelenting, violent gunfire, explosions and wails interspersed the desperate begging.

And of course, South Island's most infamous resident and serial robot constructor was to blame.

According to GUN, they didn't even know Sonic's whereabouts. He didn't even pick up their SOS calls. He rarely did, however. Despite being his own hedgehog, bound by nobody, GUN always had their wishful, calculated eye on Sonic. They'd asked him a few times to join their ranks, which he adamantly denied each time. He'd call up Shadow to laugh about it later, how the military that fought tooth and nail to round him up in the past would be on their knees begging for him to be theirs. Shadow never found it funny.

Rouge, Omega and Shadow would be sent out, as soon as possible, to try and quell the assault. A dozen GUN troops would follow, in order to evacuate, protect and distribute aid.

Of course, South Island was contained, relatively untouched by human society, illegal to reach without permit, even human scientific research was heavily restricted. It was undetermined whether this was just another of Eggman's world domination attempts with its roots on this tiny island or wanton destruction.

Either way, Shadow was going to put a stop to it. He couldn't let the Doctor do as he pleased. Shadow put down his phone, and surveyed his surroundings.

Shadow paused the movie with his grease stained gloves, just as the chao hopped aboard their spherical space pods, with fiery explosions swirling and vivid lasers darting from all corners. It was the climax to the epic tale, one that they both knew the conclusion for. Omega intensely stared at him with contempt, whirring as his head snapped to face the hedgehog. He could feel the utter malice radiate from the robot.

"Put the moving picture back on the screen." Omega instructed, sternly. He'd grown so accustomed to his commandeering modulated voice, the one programmed to instruct fear in his enemies' hearts, to the point of endearment.

'Can't. There's a mission.' Shadow sighed, rising up from his seat and lowering the plate on the coffee table. He dusted off the crumbs from his front, before peeling his arms out of the fuzzy cocoon that was his dressing gown, abandoning it on the ground. Knowingly, he continued. "It's the Doctor."

Omega's interest was preemptively piqued.

Shadow orbited round the TV, flicking on the long forgotten light switch on the wall with the back of his finger. Briefly, he recoiled. His eyes squinted shut and hand raised to shield them, having been adjusted to the room of darkness for hours, before carrying on as usual. Omega sat, still and expressionless, intently studying the frozen screen in front of him as usual, as if in indignant protest. His robotic roommate still hadn't learned how to use the remote.

Just in the next room over, a few steps over, Shadow headed to the bedroom he shared with Omega. The pleasant and familiar smell of the lavender air freshener above his headboard hit him as soon as he crossed the boundary, a definite improvement to the greasy stuffed nachos. The hedgehog punched in a code on his wardrobe, wordlessly and without error. In response, the keypad triumphantly flashed green, and the gears shifted and clanked in their place. Unfurling with a rumble, the wardrobe finally clicked open. His wall mounted arsenal rolled out, lined with his weapons in neatly arranged rows strapped up against two metallic boards. A draw underneath shot outwards, stacked up with ammunition.

Shadow pinched back the cuff of his loosened gloves, fastened up a gold inhibitor ring circling his wrist, held it up high, scrutinised the quality, deemed it passable, then repeated with the next.

Shadow picked his pistol, MP5 and AR-18. He began lining his backpack with all the magazines he could fit, cautious of maximising the volume and leaving no gaps. Into a duffel bag went the guns, a comfortable and satisfactory fit. He zipped both up and slung them over each shoulder. He strapped his leather holster around his thigh, tightening up the strap and fiddling with the holster. Then, he picked up his standard GUN issued knife from the board, running a finger along the slick sharp edge, before slotting it in his holster, the handle sticking out for easy accessibility. The sword, to the left, seemed awfully tempting.

He shook his head away. Practically won the argument, with there just not being enough space. Even if the sword looked particularly cool.

He took a few steps away, seemingly content with his choices, before contemplatively glancing back. He paused, placing a finger under his muzzle. With a subtle smirk, he grabbed his pump action assault rifle, and put that in his duffle bag. There was just about enough room, if he pressed down hard on all the contents and pinched the zip shut with enough determination and force. Satisfied, he locked the case once more, a series of beeps ringing out, before the case grinded back to normal. Nothing had changed, as the boards slid back into the wardrobe and the doors snapped shut.

Now he was ready.

Back in the main room, he groomed his quills with both hands, flattening them against each other. Shadow brushed out the matted quills that flickered and deviated with the pats of his hands, before the stubborn quills popped back to their usual shape. His momentary peace of mind returned.

Shadow snatched the two remaining stuffed nachos off the plate, and ate them in quick succession, practically finishing one in a single bite. 

"Omega, let's go." he commanded, as if he were a robotic pet. He gestured over at the door, just enough that Omega took note. The keyring jingled as he scooping up the keys from the coat handle peg. Shadow didn't even witness Omega lifting himself up with little strain, springing the sofa back up with a high pitched squeak. He was nimbler than expected for a two thousand pound robot.

"I am up and raring to go." Omega replied, same intensity as he always did. Shadow could tell he was brimming with excitement, from the way his hands swivelled clockwise in his sockets. That was a sign of anticipation, of him letting the hedgehog know he was disposed to switching to a more destructive mode at a moments notice.

Omega had to flip to his side in order to fit through the door's gap, and even then, he bumped against the frame.

Shadow quickly locked up with the eager robot peering down, lacking any sort of comprehension of what he was doing. He'd hoped his fierce stare would be adequate for speeding up the hedgehog's painfully tedious process. The two headed for the lift just down the hall, passing a few human residents who had more than acclimated to their presence, with some even sweetly greeting them as they passed by. Omega could never use the stairs properly, due to his recklessness, paired with his heavy build. Despite being the safer bet, he'd crashed a fair share of lifts too. Omega was a walking hazard, for better or for worse.

Shadow reckoned this mission will be quick.

—

As expected, for all the trillions that GUN received in their annual budget, they could not afford to send out a cab to pick them up to the airfield, with Shadow instead being forced to drive him and Omega out in his car. Their helicopter ride over to South Island was bumpy to say the least, with the three having been flown out late under the cover of darkness by a pilot that seemed awfully hesitant. GUN didn't even hand the trio a chaos emerald, much to Rouge's astonishment and the hedgehog's chagrin. Shadow figured it was because GUN were being extra careful, so if they accidentally lost it or got it stolen it didn't end up in Eggman's hands. The three didn't plan on accidents, but Eggman was crafty.

Omega was silent and unmoving throughout the whole five hour flight, blissfully oblivious to the rumbling of the jets and the intermittent turbulence. Probably dreaming of annihilating Eggman's robots.

They had made it down safely and unnoticed at roughly 3am. The area was completely unlit, and was the flattest, safest area they could find that was still fairly close to the action, just on the outskirts of Green Hill and three kilometres out from the southernmost point of Sunset City. As the helicopter descended, the grass danced in the blustery wind. Shadow rolled the door open, and preemptively leapt down first, bags in hand, knees bent for the drop of a couple metres. Rouge hopped out soon after, gliding down steadily. Omega descended, arms spread wide and legs straight, jets blasting, hitting the ground with a clunk and kicking up dirt.

A dozen GUN troops would be arriving in about 5 hours, the pilot relayed to them. They'd land, meet up at the designated point. It was Sunset Heights, the centre of the city. The path in was straight, but regardless, it was shown to all three on a map.. If all went smoothly, they'd message in to provide confirmation of a safe landing. And if otherwise, they'd still message and issue a warning. There were plenty of protocols for these kinds of missions. The trio just had to run up ahead and get started.

The doors were rolled back shut, and the helicopter vanished under the cover of the early morning. The whirring subsided, and the three snapped back into action.

"Nice view up here. I don't suppose one of those lights is the ARK?" Rouge asked, probably as a quick icebreaker, what with her being too busy at work by day or occasionally at Wave's place by night. He never really knew her whereabouts or her personal life, nor did she care to keep him up to date. 

Rouge pointing up the twinkling stars dotted above were an array of stars, sprinkled from each corner of the horizon. The crescent moon shone valiantly, not a single speck of its former damage. The city's lights were half extinguished, half illuminated. None shone as bright as the electric or neon lights of Central City, a welcome relief.

"The ARK would be much bigger. You'd know it if you saw it." Shadow said, mesmerised the more he stared up. He'd never seen the sky this clear before, in all his magnificence.

"I care not for light balls. Where are the robots?" Omega chimed in, impatiently. He didn't even bother looking up, with his shiny lights pointed squarely at the city apparently teeming with robots, destruction and helpless civillians.

Rouge muttered, her short lived peace and quiet coming to an end. "Might as well get going. If GUN's speculations are anything to go by, prepare for an onslaught."

Omega was plenty prepared, if the eager glint in his ocular sensors was anything to go by.

The three headed onwards wordlessly, through the grassy fields of Green Hill. The city lay in front of them, the sprawling suburbs awaiting them.

As they approached the first house, no signs of damage could be seen. It was a moderately sized family home, with a manicured front lawn and a brick walled fence surrounding the perimeter. Despite all the indoor lights being switched off and the windows hastily plastered in newspaper and cardboard, not a single blade of grass seemed out of place. No robots and no carnage.

The houses just across the road were just the same.

Onwards, however, was an entirely different story.

The closer they wandered up the cobbled lanes to the centre, the more apocalyptic the city felt. Along dim lamplit pathways, a makeshift wooden barrier, a former fence flipped horizontally, was erected, jamming the gap inbetween a side street. Bullet holes were embedded deep. The cheerful orange plaster on one wall had been stripped clean. A decorative stone pillar on a first floor balcony had fragmented. A row of clay flower pots on a windowsill had been struck, the red shards, multitude of tiny flowers and clumps of dirt tumbled into a heap on the cobbles.

Shadow had never been to South Island. An island full of mobians did not interest him. He didn't consider himself a mobian. Sonic was their saviour. Shadow was envisioned as humanity's shining hope, and had been amongst them all his life. They made him, and they shaped him, and no matter how much he resisted, he was theirs.

This whole place felt alien to him. Cobbled streets, the lack of technology, nature simply coexisting alongside a civilisation. It was alien to him. It reminded him of storybooks he'd come across on the ARK.

The dimly lit street was restrictive and less than ideal, but provided ample cover. A spherical robot, back turned to the three, stood in the path. It marched a few steps, ceased, then shifted its head from left to right, surveying for targets. It seemed completely oblivious, maybe lost. The robot was rudimentary, with none of the gaudy paint or accessories of the previously developed units.

Omega readied his cannon, holding his arm steady with the other to lessen the impact of the recoil. The other two observed. With the whizz of the missile, forming a luminous trail in its stead, the robot exploded into scrap before it could even flip around and allow its programming to kick in to deem the three as enemies. All that was left were sizzling wires and chunks of metal.

"This inferior robot posed no threat." Omega announced triumphantly.

"That's an Eggman robot? His standards are dropping." Rouge, scoffed, raising an eyebrow. 'At least the Eggpawns fought back.'

The three ran onwards, as the robot's insides crackled and sparkled.. The cracked eye sensor faded to black.

The straight road lead into a desolate square, lit in orange by the emerging sunrise. The back wall had collapsed into rubble, with a thin layer of water pooling in the middle as the fountain's stone restraints had split in two. The water, despite everything, kept spurting. Whilst Rouge and Shadow raced forward, Omega took uncharacteristic caution even entering, instead opting to linger in at the side.

A table's legs had caved, with jagged hunks of wood scattered all over. Someone's tattered notebook and all the loose sheets were scrunched up on the floor, tucked underneath the wreckage like it were a paperweight, coated in copious amounts of dust. It was right next to a mobian's unexpectantly advanced phone, smashed in two and firmly locked shut on a black screen. The contents of scattered purses and half empty drinks spilled onto the ground.

Rouge pulled out a corpse from underneath a mound of crumbled stone and shattered wood and string, yanking him out from a collapsed wall in the corner by their purple shoes. At least he didn't look like he was in pain. The first mobian in sight, and they were dead. A promising start.

"Anyone else?" Shadow inquired, head sinking down in disgust. She tucked the cat's sprawled arms to his side.

"Not that I can see." Rouge straightforwardly replied. Shadow glanced from left to right. Aside from the wreck before them, nobody else was in view, let alone damaged.

"The rubble?" he added. Shadow simply stood around, surveying, arms folded.

"I haven't checked." was all she could reply, having known as little as anyone else.

"I do not understand, where is the onslaught?" Omega's distant voice cried, his head pivoting in place. He sounded genuinely hurt and deceived, head rapidly pivoting until it locked back into place. All that could really be seen of him was a bulky outline and a swathe of muted red and green light.

"We must have missed the wave." Rouge sighed, kneeling beside the corpse. She placed a hand over his face, and shut his eyelids for good. "We caught the tail end, most likely."

"When will the wave return?." he demanded. His head pivoted back, then to the side. Not a single robot to be seen. Even basic scans suggested no life forms, or cheap Eggman robots in the presence.

"Beats me." she shrugged, simply.

"Allow me to seek out the wave." Omega held his sharp claws out in front, poised and ready to strike. Despite his emboldened hands and piercing stare, his feet lacked movement, comfortably distant from the giant, ever expanding body of water.

Rouge pushed herself up from a now waterlogged knee, leaving the fallen mobian to rest peacefully on the floor.

"Sure, go for it,'' she affirmed, gladly. Omega's eagerness was charming. "I'll try and find Eggman himself, he's got to be in some kind of stronghold nearby. If I can shut off the power. I can get him to stop. Distract me while I go in, will you?"

Shadow's sentences were snappy and straight to the point. There was nothing to elaborate on further. 'I'm staying here. Will search the area.'

"Stay safe out there, Shadow." she cautioned. Despite her sincerity, Shadow found her words hollow. When the same wishes were directed at Omega, it was more a warning, fuelled by expectation and hindsight of countless previous missions. 

"I don't need your concern." Shadow scorned, his voice smooth and faint. He pouted, like he always did. His muzzle was slightly puffed out, probably an unintentional consequence of his abashment, yet it made him look rather cute in Rouge's opinion.

"Got it, but don't rule it out." she asserted, disregarding Shadow's typical stoic attitude. "See you back here in 4 hours?"

She pointed directly to the ground below her. This seemed like a fairly recognisable spot, and the three were no stranger to traversing unfamiliar territory.

Shadow nodded curtly. Omega affirmed, with no complaint.

Shadow turned to face the bat, his eyes actually meeting hers for once. His voice was clear, hushed, yet twinged with sincerity. "If you see Sonic, let me know."

"Oh, of course!" Rouge happily obliged. She winked overtly in full view of the hedgehog, even under cover of the early morning, as she grinned. Her voice was so much louder than anticipated, enough to reach the ends of the square, despite nobody being around to listen in except Omega. Even then, he probably didn't care.

"Cut that out." he barked. Shadow hoped the darkness hid the creeping blush on his cheeks, so Rouge wouldn't pester him further.

"Right." she assured, true to her word. Nothing more was said.

The two split up, with Omega heading forward along the road, off to the side and far out of reach of the cascading water. Rouge flew up off into the night. Shadow frankly didn't care to see them off with pleasantries. He was left to brood alone in the open square.

Shadow vowed he'd search, but truthfully, he didn't really know what to look for. Eggman never left hints. His schemes were flashy and in your face levels of obnoxious, with a peculiar honesty. The inventions from his factories were a twisted reflection of his desires. When he wanted an army of animal themed robots swarming a whimsical theme park, it was what he got. His senseless violence had sense. He always made something out of it.

Shadow stood beside the rubble. He pressed his eyes shut, cleared his mind of all thoughts and voices until his headspace became an empty black. He pressed his forehead against the crumbled stone, trying to detect a chaos signature from anyone below, any kind of distant heartbeat or signs of life. Nothing. Every living thing had a chaos signature. Whatever was under there was either long dead or simply not alive to begin with.

He stared up. It used to be an ice cream shop. The plexiglass shattered and the tiles uprooted. Lopsided stools and stripped paint, and the fact that the front wall had just blown up. The area had a sugary sweet aroma, with a very vague hint of a bitter coffee.

A distant tapping.

Shadow sighted a large crack in the wall, the same diameter roughly as him. Underneath and lining the edges, crimson blood. It trailed outwards, like someone got dragged towards the wall with a remarkable amount of energy, enough to shatter stone. He briefly considered the first options that came to mind- Knuckles' raw strength, Silver's telekinetic capabilities, the limitless possibilities of Eggman's mechs. Whatever it was, it packed a punch.

Shadow continued to explore, eyes peeled for any kind of clue, combing left and right. The stones underneath him glinted in the early light. A little dip in the rows of stones caught his suspicions. Upon closer inspections, it was a dent in the floor. Another crack.

One set of footsteps, whirring upon its rise and clanking upon fall.

It could have just been from everyday damage and wear, but Shadow was willing to take no chances. Besides it, dried up blood coated the cobbles, with drops splattering out a fair distance.

Shadow knelt down, one hand rested on his knee, and examined scrupulously.

The footsteps amplified in volume, the clanks echoing in a line.

It happened a while ago, judging from the faded and browning texture. That was what he could determine. A scuffle from up high most likely occurred. The blood fell down, hence the drops spread out wide. Being injured, with nowhere left to go, they had to have crashed down to the ground.

Shadow stared up, confusedly. Whatever caused it could only be a guess. All he saw back were stars obscured by the veil of darkness.

A herd of footsteps.

As he continued making sense of the predicament he caught himself in, a bullet whizzed past, grazing his knee and setting the nerves alight. It took Shadow aback.

His attention flipped to the source. Behind him.

A horde of spherical grey robots, marching in rows of three like a parade. He could only see the beginning, but not the end. One shot, and the rest soon followed. 

A barrage of gunshots.

Shadow dumped the duffel bag he'd been lugging onto the ground, unzipping it with one swift rip and pulling out the first weapon he could lay his hands on- his pump action assault rifle.

Shadow ducked behind the fountain, sinking lower until his head was concealed beneath solid stone, regardless of the puddles of cold water.  It spewed relentlessly from the busted water pipe stung against his quills and making his legs quiver. The robots shot mindlessly at the stone, the water and the floor, anywhere where they reckoned they had a chance of successfully hitting their target. His top quill ever so slightly protruded, and the robots took advantage of that.

Shadow grabbed a fitting magazine from the bag and slotted it in, pounding it from underneath to be extra certain it'd fit, and picked up a second and third to stash in his quills. He cocked the gun, facing back to his robotic adversaries.

The bullets continued raining down on him.

Two robots went down easily, with one bullet to the eye sensor before they flopped to the ground. A conspicuous, unguarded weak point.

Three down.

He pumped the gun. Still in their formations, this time they marched closer, towards the fountain and towards him. Shadow got the three in front, one bullet in each, with them toppling back and startling the ones behind, who expected flat ground to advance upon. More like target practice.

Although not a challenge to hit, this was endurance. No matter how many he shot, the rest were undeterred. They poured in, unrelenting, uncaring of the fate of those that fell beforehand. Onto his second mag, and there was no way he'd have enough for another wave of these enemies. Soon the mag would be empty, yet the robots would be swarming in. The Doctor would make more of these, and nothing would have changed. These robots were probably constructed out of the bottom of the barrel scrap. But Shadow wasn't going down easy.

As he poked out under cover, a fiery bullet scraped past his knuckles, tinging his hand with a slight stinging pain. Shadow shrugged it off, unbothered, and continued firing regardless. 

And before he knew it, he had no more ammo left on him. He'd cleared just enough distance between the robots and him to afford some time to pick out a new magazine from his backpack, now hugging the walls of the fountain.

The problem was, he packed all kinds in preparation. Pistol, assault rifle, sub machine... He could judge based on the size and weight, but he was under strict time pressure. He had to reload, pump then clear a new path. All in a matter of seconds. No challenge.

And, to his incredulous misjudgement, he took the wrong magazine. He fumbled, cursing underneath his breath, and reached out for another.

As he attempted to reload once more, Shadow could spot the top of a grey robot approaching from the side of the cover, the unison splashes of robotic marching. Their visors whirred, attempting to catch a glimpse at their hedgehog adversary.

They did, but fleetingly. Their target vanished in front of them in a blue flare, the gun and its mag knocked to the ground. The robots didn't anticipate this, the three in front pausing on the spot perplexedly to re-evaluate their programming.

Shadow re-materialised out of thin air, pinging back into reality.

A knife plunged deep into the robot, before he yanked it out unceremoniously and it crumpled to the ground. He landed back down to the ground in a somersault, drenching the inside of his jet boots with icy cold water.

The second managed to land several bullets on Shadow's chest, singing his chest fur which dappled in a sparking blaze, quickly put out by the healthy douses of water flinging in all directions. The bullets were slow to fire and had a lengthy waiting time to the next, but when dozens fired at once in irregular patterns it became arduous to keep track.

None of that did nothing to slow him down. He drove the knife deep within its circuitry, holding its lifeless husk of a body by his blade before it plopped to the floor with a resounding splash. All circuits, wires and glass visors trickled down into a sparking, unrecognisable heap. The third, he dove at with the knife, but in the side. Digging deep, it went limp, sprayed rapid bullets wildly out of its flailing gun, cautionary beeping glitchy and garbled. It hit anything it could with the remainder of its ammunition in distress, its fellow robots, Shadow, the fountain wall, the ground.

Plucking out his knife with two harsh jerks of the arm, he jammed it back into his holster. Clearly, he had to take more rapid action. Shadow revved into an easy spindash, managing to blast through a couple unsuspecting targets before touching down on solid ground. Yet no matter how many he took out, more shot back. More gathered to take the places of the fallen, piling over their bodies only to be added to it in due course.

He teleported back to his prior position, diverting their ever present attentions, at least momentarily. A huge blast made them all swivel to the side, in preparation for attack.

Not him, something else. None even looked at Shadow, nor shot, despite him being within their vicinity and very easily, and him actively posing a threat.

Shadow's ears pricked at the whirr of a rapidly approaching gatling gun, and the crackle of fire.

In the midst of the chaos, Shadow homed in on the closest enemy he could find, an unsuspecting robot, and spun into him. Mid leap, he caught sight of him, a red and black blur amongst the sea of grey, backlit by the tender glow of the orange sunrise. Crackling flames and clouds of wafting black smoke danced behind his bulky form, with heavy feet trampling over broken glass. The trail he left in his wake was no short of destructive.

Of course, it was Omega.

Shadow teleported once more, this time right behind his robotic ally, who was covered in shallow bullet marks and dents. His smooth body, which remained stationary for so long, had now been smeared in oil, ash and dust. And he couldn't be more in his element.

"You weren't supposed to fire at the houses!" Shadow hissed, gritting his teeth. He ducked behind his bulky frame at the incoming fire.

"They happened to be in my way." He responded defensively, guns blazing and eyes locked onto the straight path of adversaries. GUN sanctions were the least of his worries.

"Omega, toss me!" Shadow ordered, sternly. He vigorously elbowed him twice and kicked at his leg, anything to grab the robot's attention. The hedgehog could barely hear the sound of his voice under the bullet fire.

"Acknowledged." Omega replied, curling his claw around Shadow until he melted into it. Shadow aptly rolled up into a spiny ball within the grasp of his metallic fingers. Omega swung back his arm, as if launching a bowling ball, propelling the hedgehog straight in front. He hit the floor and spun in an unrelenting straight line.

Like he struck pins in an alley, the few remaining robots wobbled and collapsed. Shadow got up, brushing himself off and unknowingly smearing crimson all over his tight waterlogged gloves, a sea of robots and bullet casings swamping the floor. Only the sound of rushing water filled the square as the smoke cleared, and gatling gun ground to a whirring halt.

Omega was ecstatic, on a high he hadn't felt in ages. Shadow, however, was glum. He hadn't taken the time to notice how many bullets were really lodged inside of him. He slunk away from the sizzling wrecks.

"We eliminated the robots. What could you possibly angst about?" Omega questioned. His gun cannons spun back into regular metallic hands, which he momentarily flexed to regain sensation.

Shadow held out his bloody hand in front of him, balled into a fist. Shadow breathed in, eyes shut in contemplation and voice locked in a whisper. 

"I was careless and ill-prepared. How could I fumble like that?"

He was filled with a deep sense of shame, of regret. He couldn't even beat some scrappy robots? Relying on Omega to pick up the slack was unnecessary when he could certainly do it himself. It was sloppy. The hedgehog had to try harder next time. And he would count on that.

He tiptoed past the swamp of trashed robots, and picked up the two bags he discarded prior, swooping them up to rest on his arms and tucking his gun back with the rest.

"My auditory sensors could not pick up your last comments, would you care to repeat?" Omega pried.

Shadow pinched the cuff of his glove further down his wrist, the wet bloody fabric clinging to his fingers in protest, before heading off down the path to clean up after Omega and his indiscriminate gunfire. The spurting water of the fountain's remains lapped up the blood stains and bullet casings.

Chapter Text

Infinite stared standing in front of the excessively large computer, hands outstretched on the table. Orbot obediently mopped the white tiles on the other side of the room, a watery bucket within arms reach. Infinite's cold, menacing eye perused the multitude of screens in front of him with no decisive focus. The dozen feeds showed live footage from a multitude of scenes tinged in a green hue, with a gentle hum of the machines droning in the background. The weighty slop of Orbot's mop against the wet tiles from the opposite side of the room occasionally filled the silence between the two.

Each camera had been placed in Eggman owned areas, a sort of symbol of conquest. And Infinite observed it all. The empty stark white halls of Eggman's base, the cobbled streets of a desolate Sunset City, the mechanical order of the Green Hill factory. Not a single mobian roamed the streets. It had been so easy, not even a full day and he'd accomplished this much already. This just reinforced Infinite's superiority.

One particular monitor, out of dozens, now stuck out against the multitude.

An aircraft, in the far distance. Just over Green Hill. A black dot amongst white sea. Dipping beneath the distant clouds, preparing for a safe landing. Or, so they'd hoped.

Infinite tapped the red button in front of him, leaning down towards the microphone on the desk with elbows perched against the counter. The mic bumped against the tip of his mask.

He spoke, concisely, his eyes unwavering from the craft's descent. 

"Doctor, intruders have arrived." He squinted, so engrossed in the display that the lines embedded in the filter became apparent and impossible to separate. He hesitated to continue. "But I can't quite discern who. The screen is blurry."

Eggman's voice came through clearly on the other side. Infinite expected disappointment, instead receiving frustration. "Just zoom in. You do remember how? I told you."

Infinite remembered it. After all, it was mere hours ago. The Doctor made a show off that exact computer to him, highlighting all the quirks and neat rows of switches and flaunting its slew of useful capabilities. Infinite distinctly retained that lesson in his mind. He'd silently marvelled at that computer, having never been in the presence of computer let alone one that massive and advanced. One of Eggman's first instructions was on how to zoom in, and he told him how vital it was that he paid attention. He did pay attention, it was undeniable. But as to how to zoom in? Not a clue. It escaped him, and his mind couldn't recall back. He was ashamed to admit it.

Why?

His hand dithered over a selection of buttons in front of him.

"The buttons are unremarkable, they cannot be told apart," he said. Each one had the same plastic sheen that shimmered in the light, with some lime green, some cyan and others dotted with a feeble twinkle of light. None had a label, or any denotation of their function.

The lock of the door hissed open as Eggman entered, striding through the glistening wet tiles much to Orbot's dismay, yet not to his surprise. He waved a hand to the small robot, dismissing him at once.

Eggman wasted no time getting to work, grumbling and muttering under his breath.

The Doctor took the reins of the control panel, Infinite stepped back to observe him tapping a series of keys, pressing buttons and swiping at touchpads. Infinite, despite failing to understand, attempted to follow along. By switching his view constantly from screen to control pad, rapidly back and forth, he attempted to assign a function to each action. Yet he still didn't understand how it worked, he was moving too quickly for his eyes to keep up.

It embarrassed Infinite, having to watch the Doctor complete such a minute task for him, that he should have been able to complete with ease. The jackal was supposed to be all powerful. His heart pounded in his chest, so loud he was worried the Doctor would hear.

"The screen in question is on the uppermost layer, directly central." Infinite reminded him, maintaining his facade of knowledgeability, as the doctor was busy with the task. He didn't turn back, stop his work, or pause to ponder his next move. Infinite kept quiet, slinking feebly back further into the corner.

Eggman knew exactly which screen he referred to, just by his vague description. With a few extra button inputs, the blurry speck on the monitor soon enveloped the entire monitor.

As the screen focused itself, and the blurriness faded to sharpness, it took the shape of a helicopter. A white 'G' could be seen, emblazoned on the metallic doors. A logo of sorts.

Eggman took no time to second guess and replied immediately with absolute conviction. The chair shot back as he rose to his feet and forcefully slammed his fist against the flat desk, rattling all that it supported.

"GUN, of course! They always show up when you don't need them!" he scorned.

"I will blow up their aircraft." Infinite growled. He felt his fingers twitch with anticipation, the newfound power bubbling up in his veins. "Make their last moments agonising."

Eggman interrupted, assertively, "We will let them land. However, their arrival will not go unopposed."

Infinite, either way, agreed. He had no say in the matter.

—

The three GUN agents were hunkered down in a storage room. It was still covered in plastic crates, unused pots, empty tubs and stacks of weighty cardboard boxes piled up to the ceiling, a remnant of its former life as a basement of an ice cream shop. Shelves were jammed with folders, marked and arranged by month and year. With the room shrouded in darkness, the only light source came from a hole in the ceiling that dappled the wooden stairs in warm sunlight. The room looked exactly the same as it would have mere hours ago, when the upstairs shop was in business. Still, the odd cobweb threaded from ceiling to wall and layers of dust and ash speckled the forgotten corners of the ground.

Shadow sat at a wooden table, covered in recent notes, stacks of paper, checklists and bundles of receipts, all dating from either that day or the one before. He crossed his injured leg over the healthy one, and drummed his fingers against the table's edge.

"I don't need your pity." Shadow huffed, leaning forward in his chair, injured arm splayed out on loose papers. Rouge sat by his side, medical kit on her lap.

"You look like an absolute wreck". Rouge stated, candidly, "At least, let me clean up your wounds. "

She gestured towards the black quills on his arm, bloodied, clumped up high and hardened in the heat of the morning sun. His quills, although not visibly reddened, had darkened with an imperceptible brown tinge . The distinct stench of metal encircled his presence. 

"You're still bleeding." she exhaled. Shadow rested his arm by his side, out of scrutiny.

"I can walk it off." He scoffed.

"Doesn't mean you can't pull out the bullets at least. You're an eyesore."

"I'll just wash off the blood." He retorted.

Rouge remained skeptical.

"I'm the ultimate lifeform, these wounds are nothing." he snapped. Shadow felt offended by her insinuations that he needed to be looked after, treated as if he were weak. And how no matter what he said, she still wouldn't back off. And neither would he.

"It doesn't hurt at all, does it?" She inquired, a light smile on her face, knowing full well what the answer was, and knowing how adamantly he'd defend his position of being 'fine'. It was a regular occurrence.

"I've been through worse. Save it for someone who needs it." He grumbled languidly, nudging her meddling hand aside with his clean, unharmed elbow.

Shadow intended for the assurance to be the end of that, and he could leave with no further comment.

He pulled himself up off his seat, perhaps a little too hastily. As he bent his leg outwards to solid ground, as weight was applied down, the lodged bullet made reinvigorated contact with flesh.

The wound seared with pain. He attempted to continue as usual, maintaining the foot on the floor despite the vigorous pain, and how hard his body protested. He held a gloved hand over his leg, his palm brushing against the untreated wound. Noticing Rouge's concerned gaze, he stifled his groans, and covered his other fist over his gritted teeth.

Rouge could tell full well he was in denial, the adrenaline from earlier keeping him moving was washing away, and he was trying his hardest to disguise it. Because he was stubborn.

Sure, he may have been the Ultimate Lifeform, designed to cure incurable diseases, resistant to infection, and envisioned to be immortal, a biological oddity as well as humanity's saviour/weapon, he still felt pain. He still bled red, despite being able to regenerate the losses at a much faster rate than normal.

"Of course it still hurts. Sit still and I'll get them out." She said, sterner, bordering on a demand.

Shadow admitted momentary defeat, and sat back down in defeat, sprawled out on the chair. His stare was fixated to the stone wall beside him, the opposite side of Rouge. She pulled up her chair closer and snapped a pair of latex gloves over her regular cloth ones.

"Painkiller?" She offered, preparing to reach into another pocket for a container. It rattled as her fingers made contact.

"I can handle this myself." He grumbled. His arm stiffening as Rouge took hold of it.

'Oh, you're so tough.' Rouge mockingly responded. Shadow rolled his eyes and sank further down in his seat. She took out a pair of tweezers from the pockets around her waist.

She commanded him to hold still.

Shadow obliged, huffing and pouting.

Rouge held two fingers on either side of the wound, poking down with applied pressure. Blood preemptively trickled out the open wound.

She squinted her eyes to try and get a closer look, but only saw a black mess of quills that had formed a barrier around the wound. The room was way too dark to see beyond.

"Omega! Would you be a doll and just stand over here for a second?" Rouge asked, feigning a singsong tone.

Omega obliged, making his way from the back of the room over to the pair. His feet clanked against the linoleum, scraping past the heavy cardboard boxes and nudging them askew.

"You don't mind just holding this over his arm?" She handed over her communicator, the screen turned on, right on the palm of his open hand. He pinched the sides with two claw-like fingers, and gripped it comfortably.

The robot did as he was told, bathing Shadow's wound in a bright blue glow. The blood stream glimmered, as well as the gaping wound it all spewed from.

Rouge dug into the wound with a steady hand. As Shadow felt the cold metal enter, his ears pricked up. He squirmed in his seat, tensing his tear speckled eyes shut and gritting his teeth. He held his balled fist on the table, clenching, as the metallic bullet and the tweezers dragged through flesh. He writhed in his chair.

It took a painfully slow ten seconds to find it.

If he were a mobian he'd have died of shock twofold by now.

She pulled out a thin, silver painted bloody bullet, which she pinched by the ends. Shadow refused to acknowledge it and kept his unwavering gaze firmly planted at the wall.

"Even their bullets are shoddy. This one's rusted." She held the bullet up against the light of her communicator. As confirmed, the blue light revealed the scratchy metallic surface, with patches of brown amidst the shiny silver. Omega hummed in agreement.

Unzipping the kit, she peeled back the plastic wrapping on gauze, and slapped it down against his wound, pushing it down against his arm. One finger prodded hard against a noticeable dip, softer than the prickly quills. Shadow sharply hissed upon impact. The gauze quickly stained red.

Shadow hissed at every slight altercation to the intensity and jammed his eyelids back shut when the pain became too unbearable."Anywhere else?". she eagerly asked.

He bypassed the question entirely. He dreaded the same inevitable, painstakingly slow process being done to his leg.

Rouge noted a diagonal line in his gloves with shredded jagged scraps of blood splattered cloth ripped out. It was a faint cut against his black hand, one prickled with pink and brown spots. The hedgehog either didn't care, or feigned disinterest.

"Those robots left quite the mark on you, huh?" she added, in an unusually casual manner, surveying his body for any further injury, due to his lack of cooperation.

"Hundreds of the Doctor's robots swarmed us." he replied, breathily. His eyes faced downwards, away from Omega's darkness piercing red orbs or Rouge's gaze. He didn't know exactly what she was feeling at that moment, whether or not she genuinely enjoyed seeing him in such a defenceless state. Her informality was remarkable, and left Shadow stumped.

He cursed whenever Rouge pushed the gauze harder, his free hand clawing at the ends of the table until wood shavings clung between his fingers

"I annihilated them." Omega declared, proudly. "Shadow was busy being turned into cheese of the Swiss variety."

"Omega fired at the civilians!" Shadow grunted, his breaths short and mind going a mile a minute. His anger cooled, with every frantic huff of breath causing his body to tense up, and his arm to push against the gauze.

"Correction- I fired at their lodgings. As far as my memory banks can recall, I did not see a single furry specimen in Sunset Heights."

"Wait, noone?" Rouge called out, in disbelief. She pressed further. "Alive or dead?"

Omega spoke up, in the same imposing, monotone voice that all matters were addressed with. "They are in hiding, or deceased. Do you wish for me to force them out?"

"That's enough." Rouge held out her arm to playfully nudge the robot aside, disregarding Omega's heavy frame or the severity of his claims.

"I followed the robots' trail, it seems they came from a huge factory complex out in Green Hill. Eggman's practically constructing them and sending them straight out the door. I don't have a floor plan. If those robots are still being mass produced, it's too dangerous to go in right now. If just one spots me, it's all over."

"So?" Shadow asked, impatiently.

" So... I'll continue surveying the area. The place looks shoddy enough that I reckon I could find a way in." She assured, she turned to Shadow, who appeared to have stabilised. "And you?"

"Do what I did before. Search the city."

"Don't take your time. GUN'll do the heavy lifting. Assessing damages, handing out supplies, assisting whatever injured they find.." She trailed off, as she slipped deeper into thought. Her sly smile morphed into a frown.

She queried, feigning optimism over intense worry. "What time is it, Omega?"

Omega flicked his wrist up, showing Rouge the communicator. Amidst the shining blue light, the clock read 9:26am.

1 hour 26 minutes after GUN should have plainly responded with either a simplistic statement of confirmation or deconfirmation. 

There was no protocol for no message at all.

She checked the signal, then rechecked it again, and to her horror there was nothing. 

The line had seemingly been disconnected, on their end.

—

Eggman and Infinite stood side by side in front of the monitors, with the Doctor vastly towering over the jackal. The camera feed, which displayed the exact view that was recorded of them, was adjusted to the Doctor's superior height. Only the tips of Infinite's metallic ears, which blended into the white walls of the background, even denoted his presence. He had his arms crossed, anticipating the new guest and what the Doctor had to say to tear him down.

The camera flickered on, revealing a grey haired man in black military uniform decorated in an arrangement of shiny medals. Behind, a well lit sapphire blue curtain. Infinite couldn't help but focus on his stern eyes, one being yellow and the other deep blue. They were just like his own.

This was the Commander of GUN, as Eggman distainfully referred to him as. Infinite had never seen a human, other than the Doctor. They were strangely proportioned. Despite his lack of interest in the ensuing conversation, the movement of a human intrigued him.

The Commander was furious at the very sight of the Doctor, without a word having been uttered.

Eggman confronted the camera directly, the field of view entirely centred upon him. Infinite was no more than a speck in the corner.

"I'm going to make this quick. I have your men, right here." he announced. He flicked the footage over, showcasing dozens of humans just like him. Infinite wanted them all to perish by his hands, questioning mentally if they'd put up a meagre fight as all the other mobians when they inevitably fell before him.

'You wouldn't dare hurt them.' The Commander threatened, expression exasperated.

'I haven't, yet.' 

Eggman hid his maniacal grin behind tented fingers.

'Under one condition.' He held up a finger succinctly. 'Keep your men out of South Island, and I will send these soldiers back, without a scratch. And I will remain in South Island. You'd better keep to your word, or If I see another GUN helicopter, or GUN ship, or any kind of foreign aid entering South Island's waters, I will not hesitate to shoot it down.'

He was troubled by this information, and took moments to weigh up the situation.

"You'd sacrifice not only these men, but thousands more, just for Sonic? Don't you forget all the trouble he caused your people, the millions in property damage?" Eggman contended. His words seemed to have got through to the man, he lowered his head pensively. "Do the people of the United Federation even want billions of taxpayer money wasted on some war over a blue rat?"

Infinite couldn't help but silently admire the way he struck fear and anger into the man's heart, the way he commanded the so-called 'commander'.

"He saved us countless times from your tyranny." The Commander challenged.

"And I'm giving you a chance to save yourself. You are aware of what I can do to your people, right? Don't think I won't do it again."

Eggman's threats didn't concern the Commander. Or so it appeared.

"Without the Chaos Emeralds you're nothing." he countered, with a new wave of self assuredness.

Eggman pulled out four chaos emeralds, two fitting in each palm.

"Don't be so sure about that." the Doctor interrupted, putting the twinkling gems in full view of the camera conspicuously. He waited even for the video to focus, just to drive the point further.

The Commander's boldness had crumbled.

Then a long, drawn out sigh. "Fine. We will withdraw."

Eggman cradled the emeralds with a victorious grin. "Your men will be released tomorrow, without harm. You have my word."

Eggman hung up, the central screen fading to black.

"Without harm?" Infinite inquired, bitterly.

"Yes, really. I want my plan to succeed. I'll listen to their demands, take the island, then expand beyond the island when my base is strong." he spoke of his plan with sincerity, listing off his intentions like they were set in stone. Eggman rested back down comfortably on the chair, contented.

Eggman's eyes scanned the screens, with views across Sunset City being captured by his army of unopposed robot drones that clinging to lamp posts, walls, tree branches, anywhere he now claimed in his almost day-long campaign. It was a solid 2 kilometer radius of Sunset City- small, in numbers, but symbolically huge.

The city was populated. The sparse Green Hills, the Mystic Jungle, the Frog Forest, Never Lake- weren't. Nobody would put up resistance. It would be a cakewalk to take the rest.

The Doctor marvelled at the land he'd so easily claimed, with no resistance.

"You don't wish to rule the world?" Infinite questioned, challenging his own constructed view. He was now at eye level with the Doctor.

"You misunderstand, I wish to reform this world into my own image. Very different from ruling." he elaborated, despite the jackal's confounded confusion, at what he could possibly be after.

There was a lot Infinite didn't know about the Doctor.

"Reform?" he posed, the word sounding foreign to the jackal. He could barely say it without questioning.

"Set up factories, rebuild my city, populate the island with my robots, set up a glorious theme park in my own likeness. Once I have South Island, take the rest."

Infinite wasn't caught in the flashy appeal.

"Killing everyone would be counter-intuitive. Why create a park if there's nobody left to visit?" The Doctor proclaimed passionately, spinning his chair out to personally deliver his explanation the jackal. His words sounded so comprehensible, yet Infinite struggled to pick out the sense against his own preconceptions. Questioning his logic would be unwise, no matter how much he wanted to see eye to eye with the Doctor. He had his reasons.

He knocked at the ruby on Infinite's chest with his knuckles, twice. The swirling black lines rippled upon his contact.

"And this phantom ruby, and you, are going to help me achieve my vision. The ruby is the ultimate source of power, untapped for millennia. And you will harness it."

Behind the mask, Infinite couldn't help but display a pride fuelled smirk, his ears pricking up at the sound of the prospects. Power, honing his potential. Being the ultimate. It was what he deserved, and only he could harness this strength. Infinite knew he was ready. He couldn't wait to prove to Eggman he could do it, and he would.

And he knew just where to use this power.

"Another helicopter arrived hours ago, with a similar logo." Infinite announced, with a righteous grin. He leant up against the panel, arms crossed and head held high.

Eggman, despite his careful planning and unwavering vision, was intrigued. He humoured him. 'How many were in it?'

'Shadow the Hedgehog, a bat and a robot. They are within the city.' he continued. Neither had a solid form in his mind, except for the hedgehog. All were blurry, identities shielded by unsteady camera footage and dark skies.

And there was nowhere for them to run.

'Excellent, there's no fun in conquering without a challenge!' He clapped his hand in anticipation.

"Challenge? Really?" He spat. The very insinuation struck him deep. He was more than capable. Shadow was nothing compared to him now. The hedgehog was so far below him. He was just a stepping stone for him, as far as Infinite was aware.

Infinite attempted to suppress his rage, unsuccessfully, with a overly calm, dutiful demeanour, "I assure you, Doctor. This will be easy."

Eggman sighed, passing his last remark off without following up. "Well, of course! Sonic was no match for you, after all!"

He got up out of the chair, escorting himself out the room, right past the still jackal, consumed in his thoughts. Infinite studied the monitors closely, the narrow paths of Sunset Heights, to the suburbs, to the red bridge out of the city. He made note of these paths. He knew he could zip through them quick.

Infinite pushed up his slipping mask with his left hand.

He was going to make Shadow suffer, with his own hands.

—

Rouge was just about to depart for her mission outside the Green Hill factory, to spy on the inside and locate the centre of the base. She took a cursory peek at Shadow, strips of fresh bandage thoroughly wrapped around his chest, leg and arm, as well as plasters stuck tight across more minor wounds. With the plasters been created for humans, they barely stuck onto his jagged quills. peeling off by the corners within minutes. Omega, having stood still for a dozes of minutes on end, swirled his hand in circles idly in their sockets. All were eager to leave the dark security of this room and venture onwards.

She pulled out three communicators from an extra pocket around her purple suit, all made of sturdy, light metal resembling a watch. Instead of a clock face, there was a rectangular screen, black. On it, a button, speaker and a small solar panel at the top. On the back, the GUN logo emblazoned.

Rouge couldn't quite fit the bracelet around Omega's wrist, and instead looped it around the thinnest part of his arm, just above his cannons. Omega prodded at the communicator with his other arm, lightly scratching at the screen with a sharp claw.

"If you're in trouble, just press the button. Someone will pick up, if they can. If your position is compromised and you can't speak- don't. This doubles as a radar- if the button goes off, we'll be able to track your location down." She explained.

Shadow tightened it around his wrist, with it resting just underneath the cuff of his glove, out of sight. Hopefully so far he'd never need to press that button.

"It'll start vibrating, and the colour in that small box under the screen will turn pink if I'm in danger, black for Shadow and red for Omega."

Rouge hoped they'd cared enough to remember her instruction, other than their willingness to accept. They were skilled, sure. But they were working alone. Despite them both being headstrong, and having a penchant for not answering until it suited them, they only had each other to fall back on. She'd have to wait and see.

Rouge ascended up the steps. Despite walking briskly, plans clear-cut in her mind- she couldn't help but pause briefly to turn and face the two. Two sets of unwavering red eyes stared back at her.

She sighed deeply, tone shifting to sincerity and vaguely melancholy. "Stay safe out there."

Then she disappeared back up into the city, out of sight.

It was time for the two of them to leave for their missions. Shadow equipped a pistol from his bag, and stuffed several rounds into his quills- carefully examined beforehand to ensure the correct size for his gun. The holster around his thigh was strapped and fastened once more, knife still inside. The empty bags were stuffed in empty cardboard boxes, sealed shut, stacked up and crammed into the corner, indistinguishable from the rest.

Rouge had left the medkit for him on the table, amidst the stray, bloody bullets, conveniently in his field of vision.

He'd take it, if it meant he'd wouldn't have Rouge's damn tweezers scraping around his insides.

Shadow thought back to the square in Sunset Heights- those blood stains and the cracked stone in particular. It was such vivid contradictions to a formerly idyllic town, one that put a mobian presence in a ghost town.

"There's something worse than those robots out there." he pondered, voice just above a whisper. "If the residents of the town are missing. Sonic's disappearance might relate to it."

"Might it be a bigger robot?" Omega replied, expectantly.

Shadow couldn't answer, and regretfully dismissed the topic. He, truthfully, had no idea. It could have very well have been. How could he relay information to Omega that he simply didn't know?

The two climbed up the stairs, with Omega trailing behind, having to take more caution due to the narrow steps. It forced him into a more methodical approach, much to his discontentment.

Omega ran left, whilst Shadow's path diverged to the right.

Shadow, unlike Rouge, didn't have much of a plan. The factory seemed too convenient to him. A huge factory, built in Green Hill, pumping out those robots. Eggman always had a trick up his sleeve, yet it was never unanticipated.

He knew the robots thrived in numbers, they could cause property damage, they could kill. Civilians would fear them.

But Sonic thrived in situations like this.

Was he swarmed too? Is that why he didn't pick up GUN's distress calls?

No, he couldn't be dead. It would take more to kill him. Shadow knew that first hand. He knocked those thoughts out of his head with vehemence.

Sprinting through these streets revealed this area had been untouched by robots. Not a single bullet mark, the streets were by all accounts, normal. The bright painted houses standing untouched, drenched in summer sunshine. Dry washing hung on lines above the roads, stationary.

Nobody dared go outside.

Curtains were drawn, blinds lowered and doors locked. No mobian conversation, only the deafening silence.

Onwards, the same scenes played out. The stalls of outdoor markets had produce piled up in crates, price tags marked. Still fresh, very edible and not a banana or orange out of place. A hastily scribbled page- marked 'sorry, we're closed!'- adorned the door inside the shop.

Sunset Heights had turned into a ghost town in less than a day. Such an idyllic, peaceful city. What a shame. Peace never lasted.

The streets sloped downwards, views enriched by an outstretched lake, bordered by trees and huts. The sun shone high.

Yet under the shade of a balcony, Shadow spotted someone, accompanied by desperate yet scratchy and feeble mumblings. A dog, slumped up against a brick house, tucked away under planks of wood across his chest that constrained him. He was yellow, just like the wall he leant on.

Shadow knelt down to face him. He flicked the planks away with ease, revealing a huge red patch covering his tan chest, his clasped hands locked on top of a deep open wound. The dog looked deeply ashamed, giving one solemn stare before resigning into discontent.

His floppy ears barely covered the blood dripped down the side of his face, from forehead to grey tinted muzzle.

"I couldn't get away in time." he exhaled, voice too weak and breathy to carry on further. His weary, dazed eyes could barely stay open.

"Look at me." Shadow commanded. The dog's wide pupils momentarily focused on the hedgehog, yet shifted to the side before any significant contact could be made.

His panicked voice was strained. "He's dangerous and he's hunting me down."

Shadow was intrigued, yet confused.

"I've known him for years. We fell out a lot. I hoped it would turn out this way." His voice became panicked, as he irregularly and rapidly gulped in breaths of air that he simply couldn't get.

"Who was it?" Shadow interrogated, voice unintentionally intense. The man whimpered and tears welled up.

"My neighbour." Tears flooded the man's face. His chest heaved and eyes widened as he hysterically begged Shadow. "Please, don't go after him!"

He'd never used the medkit before. Rouge was the one with medical training.

Shadow had no idea how to use any of the kit in front of him, and the dog was bleeding out, fast. Deep down, they both knew he wasn't going to survive much longer. His muzzle grew greyer, and he could barely keep his eyes open.

In a last effort, Shadow held his hands over the wound, dredging up the remainders of his imbued chaos healing powers, despite lack of chaos emeralds. He held his hands flat over the bloody sludge over his heart, shifting his frail arms to his side. Shadow closed his eyes, clearing his head of all thoughts, both negative and positive and erasing his mind of all recognition of sensations.

The most he could do was imbed a calming sensation into the panicked man, slowing his dangerously fast heartbeat down to normal, steadier pace.

His wound and fears remained, however.

"I'm not going to make it." He breathed, numbly. He was filled with an unexpected serenity. "I was too far gone."

Shadow's eyes widened as his chest grew stiffer and he drew his final breath.

He was too late.

The first civilian, and they were hurt beyond repair.

He examined his wound.

Looked like something hard hit his chest, his head with a heavy concussion. A projectile, of some kind. Much larger than a bullet. Like the size of a tennis ball. It must have struck with intense force.

This was no robot, Shadow was sure of it.

Could it really have been his murderous neighbour, or was it a hallucination induced by blood loss?

Regretfully, he had to leave the dog's side. He hoped, somehow, his family would find him and give him a proper sendoff. As for the 'neighbour', whoever or whatever they were, he hoped he wouldn't hold back against him.

Shadow hoped that the upcoming roads would be merciful.

The roads behind, however...

His thoughts were interrupted by a series of succinct explosions- distant yet audible. Smoke billowed high above terracotta roofs. It seemed like it was from the other side of the city. A terrible sign. Omega was distant and he was very audible.

The robots only targeted those in sight. Omega stuck out like a sore thumb.

He ruffled up the cuff of his mangled glove, forcefully yanking it up to raise his wristband to the sunlight, highlighting all the dirt and dust that accumulated on the interface. Omega hadn't raised the distress call.

He was either busy getting attacked, or attacking.

Shadow skated back in a hurry, past the dead dog, past the stalls, past the houses. He skidded around winding streets, kicking up a trail of dust and chipping off stone chunks in his wake. The sunset paint hues blended into sludge, a brown paste. He followed the thunderous bangs of the stream of bullets, the whirr of his mechanical arms and the occasional clunk when he presumably had to reload. The stream of black smoke served as a flare.

Shadow was confined to the maze-like streets, the corners impeding and the paths confusing. He didn't know where he was going, only following his gut. The walls felt constrictive the further he progressed. He springboarded off endless walls to cross the next corner without losing momentum, referencing the position of the smoke and comparing his memory of the volume of the bullets to what was currently audible. It all began to sound the same to him. He whipped out his pistol, flicked off the safety and held it tight with both hands.

The next sight was less blurred, but just as perplexing.

Omega, or what was left of him, was on the floor, seemingly dragged through stone pillars which crumbled into fragments in his wake. His chest down had bisected, a mess of wire stringing out. A blue bird perched atop his chest, curiously pecking at a wire.

Scraps of his metallic guns, bullets and screws cascading out of his busted up right arm. His fingers had shattered from their sockets, and had split apart from each other, and now lay in an unrecognisable heap. His frame was battered with cube like indentations, hammering deep into the metal.

The lights on his eyes had blacked out.

The square looked exactly like the last, yet lacked a cascading fountain. The surrounding buildings, shops, houses and houses were singed dark black, their sunny paint cracking in the heat. Omega's bullets intensely focused on one chunk of the brick wall, eradicating entire sections to the point where the inside of the house had been cracked open.

Shadow couldn't even mourn. None of this made sense.

The wristband around Omega's arm remained unharmed, and unpressed.

Around him, a sea of Eggman's grey robots laid on the ground, filled with bullet holes. Some were more scrap than robot.

And beside him, various pools of blood, red. Even Omega had a little splattered on his frame. It was an awful lot, presumably more blood than a regular mobian could produce and by far larger than a human's. Bullets and their casings floated in these puddles. Perhaps a group perished here?.

Shadow didn't rule out Omega's willingness to attack, but mobians? Would he really fire at them, out in the open? Did he mistake them for robots? Would Omega really do that?

Shadow looked a little closer.

There were no mobian bodies laying around, as far as Shadow could have seen. They couldn't have fled in their hazy, fragile state, there were no trails leading out into the wider city. Only those contained pools remained. No flesh, no body, only blood.

Did they teleport? Get vaporised?

Were they even a they?

Shadow knew Omega would never go down without a fight. He was the ultimate robot, a force to be reckoned with. Whatever got him was tough.

He would never get to see what unfolded, all he could do was watch Omega's still, unmoving husk of a corpse.

Shadow wasn't too slow, whatever it was. Whoever it was, they were too fast.

And it knew exactly where to find him.

Thoughts about neighbours and robots pounded in his brain. Motives, direction of blood splatter, logistics.

In front of him, a heavy crack in the ground, a crater. The cobbles crumbled to dust.

Crater. Dragged across the floor. An unnaturally large amount of blood...

Shadow clutched his head, and crumbled to his knees and into the puddle. The pistol slipped out of his wavering grip, and clattered to the ground. His head sunk below, as a howl of anguish and frustration ripped through his lungs. He smashed a red fist to the ground, smashing a singular cobble below him.

Cobbles.

He was out in the open.

In some wasteland of cobbles.

The sun suffocated him.

The blood was warm.

All he saw was red. Red robot, red blood, red houses.

It battered his mind relentlessly.

This wasn't real.

He refused to believe this was real.

If this neighbour was there, how could it have come here?

Were there two?

Before his mind could sink further into the depths of panic and uncertainty, and before he could break another cobble, he slammed the button on his wrist.

Chapter Text

Eggman’s current base of operations contrasted with the rest. In the past, it's always been flashy, a show of spectacle and an assertion of dominance as much as a lair. It was no secret when he was scheming, and the intimidating facade prevented all but the most courageous mobians from intruding, under threat of painful death. But mainly, the traps were to keep one particular rat out.

The blue hedgehog showed up on the island out of nowhere, one summer day. A Christmas Islander by origin, who crossed the vast sea without belongings to his name, seeking new adventures with a cocky smile. He showed no fear nor concern, either blissfully unaware of danger or brimming with confidence. The other mobians knew their place, and were warded out by the mere sight of Eggman’s logo carved into the wall. It was all unfamiliar and exciting to the hedgehog, and he loved the challenge.

The hedgehog managed to smash up all the badniks the Doctor worked so tirelessly to perfect, dipping in and speeding through the island with speed the likes he’d never witnessed before. Perhaps the most insulting part was being chased out of his own base by the hedgehog after he smashed it all up. This eight year old, two feet tall freak of nature, capable of breaking the sound barrier, chased him down the halls of his own crumbling base. He purposely slowed down behind him, herding him out through his own hall that he had traversed so often. It was insulting. He had no intention of killing him, or even defeating him. He wanted the Doctor to escape, and intended to watch. It was all a game to him.

And to Eggman’s dismay, the hedgehog, whom he learned called himself ‘Sonic’ had stayed on the island. Eggman had to step up his defences for his next visits, and had to raise the difficulty to prevent further defeat. He’d hope that he’d catch the hedgehog by surprise someday. But the hedgehog was invincible. He had weaknesses, of course, he observed Sonic having the most trouble overcoming the water pits, but he got through it and never complained once. Sure, it slowed him down, but it never stopped him outright.

Eggman would move locations every couple of months, leaving a trail of abandoned bases in varying states of disrepair dotted across the island. New lairs were put up seemingly overnight with a new series of traps- bottomless pits, hydraulic presses, spikes, mechs, air fleets… It progressed so far that he expanded his inventions into the realm of space, and even resorted to dabbling into the study of ancient texts for inspiration. In a strange way, Eggman was thankful for the hedgehog, he provided a challenge, he motivated the doctor to work smarter and dream harder. And where Eggman went, Sonic followed. His tricks didn’t seem to leave a scratch on the hedgehog. As Sonic went from an annoying eight year old to an equally annoying sixteen year old, he remained the same menace. 

Yet the current base seemed to allude even Sonic, and especially his annoying animal friends. It was built in a huge, imposing mountain in the north east of the island. It was in a hollowed out mountain on the north east- inconspicuous unless you managed to scale the mountain and peer down into the aperture. It lacked the charm of his last and was so painfully boring to Eggman- his face wasn’t planted on every facet of the design. No sign of individuality. Yet, it worked. Eggman, public enemy number one, had actually gone off radar for a few months. His construction of a new factory, even though it was in the largest and most conspicuous area of the whole island- Green Hill- was challenged by nobody. It seemed all too easy. Rather disappointing, yet a success nonetheless.

Things continued to improve when he uncovered some scribbling carved into stone deep in the forests of Angel Island among the shrubbery and towering mushrooms. Taking those months off to teach himself to translate the language of the ancient Echidnas proved indispensable. Written was text about ‘Valtron’- a ruby which could grant unlimited power to the wielder, purposely hidden in a mystery location. Despite the infinite possibilities, the scribe was apprehensive. Apparently, Valtron caused a great deal of distress to the writer, a sentiment they described as being shared amongst the community.

Hastily scratched at the stone was a description just to describe how dangerous it was, how some wielded it to achieve their greatest desires. Echidnas bent on becoming the strongest would gain unattainable and unrivalled strength overnight. Those who kept coming back for another use would find themselves unable to stop. And then they’d become dependent on it. The power, as the writer put it, would ‘consume them’. And for the greater good, they all had to seal this away and never speak of it again, lest the whole of their society collapse. And judging by the lack of information he was able to find on the stone, it seemed to be a well kept secret - now kept between him and the Echidnas. No further information nor indication of where he might be able to learn more. Maybe he’d run out of space to write on. Maybe this was all an elaborate hoax? Regardless, his curiosity was already piqued. That promise of power seemed all too enticing.

The part about power ‘consuming them’ was concerning. Was it poetic metaphors he’d hear in some kind of moralistic story about the ‘dangers of greed’, or was it literal consumption? He’d have to find that out later.

Regardless, that chatty echidna made a huge mistake. By omitting the most secretive details, it just made Eggman all the more eager to learn more.

And thus began Eggman’s mining expedition, a deeply tedious month-long journey to find a stash of stone buried over a field area spanning a hundred kilometres, that may or may not have been real. After quickly neutralising a certain nuisance, hundreds of robots swarmed the island and drilled into the ground, simultaneously. With enough perseverance and by turning half of Angel Island into a quarry, he’d found it. A huge pit, containing pure fuschia ruby with black lines ebbing throughout, weaving and pulsating. Inside were chunks of pure, uncarved vein, as well as ruby pendants, beads, statuettes and rings that’d be at home in a museum if not for it’s potential lethality. Truly, this stone was something unique. The vibrant colours shone through, even as the ruby was buried in dirt.

Eggman was at work analysing scans of the stone and factory output data. He would type up all his findings for later. He occasionally looked at surveillance of the island for any potential notable change, yet the scope of his attention was limited. Cubot, his robot lackey, had come in just to deliver some tea to the Doctor, who had remained in the room and on that chair ever since. Cubot doubted that the Doctor had even noticed how long the little robot had just been standing there, fixated upon all the flashing lights and computer screens. It was starting to make him feel dizzy. Normally, if Cubot loitered for more than 3 seconds he’d be harshly reminded to leave at once. Yet it had been much longer. Did Eggman really not see him? 

He’d never seen Eggman work this hard before. He wasn’t even moving.

“Sir, aren’t you gonna drink it?” Cubot asked, nudging the armrest of his chair. He tried his hardest to rock the chair back to grab the Doctor’s attention but he simply didn’t have the strength.

“Sir? Sir? Hello? Can you hear me, Sir?” He raised his voice into a shout. The clacking of the keyboard never halted as more words began to spill onto the document on the monitor front of him.

Regardless, Cubot only shouted louder, bordering on a demand. “Sir, please drink your tea! I made it just the way you like it! No milk, no sugar, all leaf!”

It was abnormal speaking to his boss this way, for those few seconds he felt like the boss himself. He couldn’t quite pinpoint the feeling, it felt so exhilarating yet terrifying.

Pausing his typing, he raised the cup. Cubot waited with eager anticipation to watch the Doctor finally drink it, maybe even praise him for a job well done. However, he stopped his hand merely inches from the surface of the table.

He said flatly. “It’s cold.”

“Whaaaat? But I used the kettle this time!” Cubot whined defensively.

“Make me a new one.” He ordered, eyes snapping onto his lackey, placing the mug back on the table and pushing it aside. Cubot suddenly was aware of how small he truly was.

“Yes, boss!” Cubot said with newfound vigour and gave an eager salute. Eggman placed the mug on top of Cubot’s flat head, and he whizzed out of the room and off to the kitchen once more. The door whooshed open, then clicked shut at his departure. 

Eggman got back to work after a momentary rest. The information just wasn’t enough to write about. Sure he had Infinite’s live data and the convenient writings of the ancient echidna, but he needed more. As any good scientist would know, he needed far more testing to make valid conclusions. Orbot and Cubot refused to take part in any more and were tight lipped about what they’d seen, coming out of the test room shaking. Sure, a confirmation that the ruby worked but not much more. The dove girl provided interesting results, but met a swift and unexpected end at the hands of Infinite. So he needed a new batch of lab rats. And it wasn’t like Infinite had any friends to ask. T he ruby only worked on the living.

He huffed, looking up once more at the monitors he’d been so familiar with for the past day. He sprinkled mere milliseconds of attention onto each one. All the islanders were in hiding. Even Sonic’s annoying animal friends weren’t on surveillance anymore.

Well, there was one who wasn’t in hiding. The hedgehog. But could he really test on him? His injuries were rather severe at that moment. Heck, he was busted up so badly that he couldn’t even breathe on his own. So what use would the ruby really have on him?

Eggman didn’t have long to ponder, before the door receded into the ceiling once more.

“That was fast. Did you forget the teabag again?” He preemptively grumbled.

The sound of uneven footsteps filled the room. A clank, then a lighter tap a second later. This was repeated numerous times over. Someone with feet. Not Cubot. He took a peek at the door. There was a path of red footprints stamped upon the tiles.

It was Infinite, back straightened and arms tensed. His sweat glistened body glistened under the harsh ceiling light.

But most notably, he was drenched in blood, an absurd amount. From head to toe, staining his mask, his formerly white hair, his shoes and logging his white scarf wrapped around his neck. Even his piercing yellow eye was masked with a wash of red. He was like a silhouette of red.

The veins in his right arm unnaturally protruded, and tinged a dark purple against black fur. His fingers clamped around his aching arm. Notably, the black ebbing lines in the ruby on his chest thumped against the corners, whizzing through the sea of pink at relentlessly high speeds.

For a moment, he sank against the wall. Infinite breathed a sigh of relief as he tipped his tired head back.

His quiet moment of rest was interrupted, as Eggman’s frantic, screeching voice slashed through the silence like a knife. “Hey, hey! Watch the walls! They’re chiffon white!”

Infinite immediately pulled himself back up from the wall, cringing at the huge red smear left in his wake.

“Ah, Infinite! You’re back!” Eggman exclaimed, twirling round his swivelling chair to face Infinite, with arms outstretched. His tone flipped in an instant. “I take it you had a little trouble against Omega, hm?”

“He was no match against me.” Infinite asserted. The sound of his heavy breathing and desperate gasps for air were vocal enough to be picked up by his voice filter.

Eggman gave a quick, firm acknowledgement of the mangled body of his former creation on the monitor, before turning his head back to his computer. With a few clicks, all of Infinite’s current data loaded up. And within the few quiet seconds, a dreadful number of warnings clamoured onto the screen.

Infinite’s breaths were rapid and his stare was distant. He was fixated on the wall instead of Eggman. His heart was pumping through his chest. The warning beeps steadied into a high pitched background drone. The BPM figures blurred together, roughly middling at 190. The count, on a separate screen, was coloured red and warnings of imminent danger flashed obnoxiously in a sprawl of pop up tabs. No matter how many Eggman tabs closed, more would take its place. Soon, the entire screen was buried.Yet Infinite remained still and at first glance, uncaring.

“What do you feel right now, Infinite?” Eggman inquired, his utter bewilderment hidden by a calmer tone. He was barely audible, and had to contend with a cacophony of relentless beeps and error popups.

“Joyous. I defeated that troublesome robot and took great pleasure ripping his circuits apart.” Infinite proclaimed, voice deep and menacing.

Eggman yanked his keyboard closer to him, wrists flicked up in preparation to type in reaction. “No, I meant physically. Any adverse side effects, malfunctions?”

“I can wield this ruby. I’ve honed the strength and obtained the power that I was destined to yield.” His words were full of hostility and rage, yet disguised in a veil of politeness.

Infinite was answering a question he wasn’t even asked with such fervent passion, it was almost comical. Eggman felt an urge to laugh, but suppressed it easily.

“Omega’s gunfire. Did it hurt?” He asked, inquisitively.

‘‘I felt every single bullet tear inside of my flesh, every drop of blood coursing out of me.” he mused, plainly. He said those words so nonchalantly, it sounded less like a recollection and more like a passive observation. He pushed up his wavering mask with a firm nudge of his left hand.

Eggman grilled him further. “Oh, it hurt, did it? On a scale of 1 to 10, how would it rank?”

Infinite gritted his teeth. ‘3. He was no match for me.’

Without consultation and only a quick look at his incredibly bloody form, Eggman bumped it up to 7.

By all counts Project Infinite should have failed. It should have been forgotten, a failed prototype to be forgotten and left in the scrap heap, recycled and harvested for revision. But yet, the project prevailed. Infinite the Jackal stood before him. He took down Sonic, somehow. He scrapped the troublesome robot, E-123 Omega. He had done considerable damage to Sunset City. And here it was, creating unlimited power. It was just like what was foretold in Angel Island.  And to think, Eggman had the unknown echidna to thank for all this.

Infinite’s body, irrespective of the veins, was clean. Drenched head to toe in blood, yet no visible wounds and no marks. His mask even remained intact, no dents despite the bullets raining down on him.

Eggman ran a finger through his moustache pensively. “The constant supply of the power that is pumping through your veins must have healed the injuries almost instantly. Interesting.’

Infinite’s voice quietened underneath the weight of this revelation, he clenched a fist together, despite the extra strain making his veins ache further. “So I can’t die?”

“I wouldn’t be that presumptuous.” Eggman scoffed. He paused, knowingly taking a glance at Infinite. “But, it seems likely.”

Infinite’s smirk was obscured by his mask. Despite the overwhelming pride he felt, he spoke with no emotion, hiding it all in his cold and collecting facade. ‘Fascinating. There is no denying it, I am unbeatable. The ruby only confirms that fact.’

Eggman couldn’t even humour the jackal with a jab or an affirmation to poke at him further. The words that he himself just spoke hit him. 

Healing all injuries. No matter how fatal. The words pushed forward a cog in his mind, and it all just clicked.

Could this ruby heal near fatal injuries? If this stopped Infinite from dying multiple times over, it can work on the hedgehog. I am certain of this.

So, what to do?

He did not want to attach this stone to the hedgehog, like with Infinite. He knew that if Sonic, the foiler of so many of his plans, would be nigh impossible to defeat with the power of the ruby, and he’d break out of containment in an instant.

He could expose Sonic to the effects, maybe drip it through an IV line? Then he could take it away when he was healthy enough. But how much was enough? Would the ruby linger or cause any side effects? It seemed promising enough at the moment. And if plans went awry, he had Infinite to back him up. After all, he seemed loyal enough.

He raised his hand into a point, rising up from his seat and sweeping his chair behind him triumphantly until it hit the back wall.

“Infinite, follow me. I have testing to do.” he exclaimed.

Without a second to spare, the jackal followed. The tiredness that consumed him subsided as he walked with a spring in his step and a newfound jolt of energy. He followed the Doctor eagerly.

—

Rouge and Shadow once again sat in the room under the ice cream shop, their de facto base. Shadow sat on a chair, completely still, with his feet placed firmly on the floor and back leant firmly. He was covered in three or more mobians’ bloods and flesh, which he paid no concern to. His knees were lightly covered in a fleece blanket, trailing down to his feet and skirting against the floor. His cuffs, wristband, shoes and knife holster were still attached to him, despite him being in the relative safety of the basement for what seemed like hours now. His gloves had dried on the way back. He had no choice but to rid himself of them, a task more uncomfortable than anticipated due to how they clung against his fingers and how much they reeked of death.

Rouge was eyeing the shelves in a side room, reaching to the top shelves on her tiptoes. Whatever was interesting she took, stashing inside the pockets wrapped around the waist of her purple suit, and the rest she held in her hand. Two wristbands were around her arm, one of which belonged to Omega for a brief period. It was perhaps the least damaged part of Omega’s remains.

All kinds of thoughts swarmed Shadow’s mind at all angles. Cutting down all the doubts and anxieties proved exhausting. Regrets of leaving Omega, not getting there in time, not catching Eggman and/or whoever was attacking, not being able to save the dog and even not being there to save Sonic. It was illogical. Shadow knew this was stupid, and he could not change the past nor be the saviour of the mobians. Why was his brain thinking such irrational thoughts, and why couldn’t it stop? 

His body felt numb.

“Granola bars, better than nothing I guess.” she sighed, staring down at the packets in her hands as she leant against the doorframe. “Shadow, dinner’s here.”

He didn’t complain nor approve.

She continued, stating her thoughts out loud in an obvious attempt to fill the silence. “I really wish GUN did arrive though, they assured me I didn’t need to bring food. They’d bring supplies by boatload and I’d stock up. That’s what they told me…”

“I brought enough for three days. Mostly tinned stuff. Was hoping I didn’t have to ration but…”

Rouge inquired. “Hey, you okay Shadow? You holding up alright?”

Shadow gave a small grunt as reassurance. Her voice scratched against his brain and stabbed against his ears. The hum of the freezer roared. He desperately wanted the silence, he wanted everything to shut up.

‘I know, I really didn’t see that coming. Omega, he..’ Rouge lamented, her ears drooping. The room felt overwhelmingly empty without Omega’s quips, and the silence felt like a fog suffocating them both. Rouge still could barely comprehend that Omega went out in such an excessive manner, and that he was truly gone. She wanted to believe that Omega would triumphantly climb down those steps at any moment and his booming voice would ramble on about worthless consumer models or something . 

She sat down beside him with arms crossed, one leg over the other and elbow leant back on the chair’s highest point.

“Someone hunted him down.”

Shadow spoke with unbridled fury, voice hoarse. His first words in hours. Despite the faintness of his words, Rouge could comprehend him clearly. 

“Yeah, I remember you telling me this. I think, yes I think that might be it.” she asserted.

Shadow didn’t face her to express interest in elaboration, yet Rouge continued regardless. She hoped he was listening.

Rouge pursed her lips in thought, and recalled back to hours prior. “Well, I didn’t get too far into the factory, but I managed to see something quite strange. I saw a construction line. Tubes led into the conveyor belt, then in the back, was a fairly small tub of some pink sludge. I think it was powering the whole line.”

The more she visualised it, the more she began to put the pieces of the puzzle together. Of course, she was nowhere near completion.

“I don’t know what it is, but it looked radiant. Black lines swirled through it. It powered the whole line. I’ve never seen something like it. The colour was captivating.” She enthused, describing the sludge as if it were a prized gemstone.

“Hm.”

“Looks like a new power source. The chaos emeralds, hyper-go-on and the Master Emerald just weren’t enough for him, huh?” She playfully nudged his arm with her elbow. Normally, he’d snap away or outright tell her to leave him alone, but nothing.

She continued. “Well, I’ll keep on looking for a route in, shouldn’t take me long!”

Rouge grew weary of the ‘conversation’. She was sure Shadow was too, by the way he didn’t even acknowledge her, and the way his ears no longer twitched when she spoke to him.

“You hungry?”

Rouge handed him a granola bar, one of the three she held in her hand. She inched the raisin one closer, knowing full well he’d pick it. He swiped at it, giving zero acknowledgement, before unwrapping it and taking a bite.

“Can’t believe GUN would just leave us here like that.” She huffed.

“Hmph.”

“Typical you’d say that.” She feigned a giggle in a feeble attempt to liven up the mood.

He took another bite out of the bar, seemingly more crumbs than substance leaving the packet.

“Y’know, I didn’t even think you’d turn up. You pick and choose where you go.”

Shadow attempted to let out another ‘hmph’, but it was so half-hearted it sounded more like a purr.

“You don’t even read the emails. What about this one piqued your attention?”

She had a knowing smirk on her face, she figured she knew why and Shadow would be ready to snap back at her, whether she hit a nerve or missed her mark. But this wasn’t the usual situation. She could say whatever, and Shadow would give a little ‘hmph’ back. But now, they lost all intonation. All just the same tone, same pitch, lacking all purpose. 

Rouge never noticed how catatonic he really looked. His eyes looked utterly dead, devoid of all spark and movement. Rouge swore he hadn’t blinked in the minute she spent looking at him. He barely even had the drive to elicit a response to Rouge’s questions, nor acknowledge her presence in the slightest. He didn’t even bother eating his food anymore, with half chewed crumbs spilling out his slightly open mouth. His right hand loosely clasped the granola, yet he made no effort to eat anymore. Shadow’s whole body was stiff. like more robot than hedgehog. Heck, even Omega or Metal Sonic were more lively. It was sad to look at.

He needed rest and desperately needed a shower, but most of all he needed to be alone. The day had been long. Last thing he needed was for someone to grill him further. She pulled up the blanket trailing by his legs up around his body, stopping just at his blood stained chest fur, trapping his arm and unfinished food under the confines.

Momentarily satisfied, she walked back into the closet in search of more treasure.

Chapter Text

Infinite was slumped on a chair in the usual computer room, right next to a plug outlet with a hairdryer in hand. His mask, scrubbed clean and dried, rested on the table beside the keyboard. His shoes, dried and washed, sat in a neat pair in the corner. Confined to the corner by the cord, he intently watched the wet sock rolled to the end flutter in the hot air. His other hand drooped limply down to the floor, exposed fingers scraping against the cool floor. His matted tail swished absentmindedly from one side to the next, occasionally thumping against the wall behind. 

He’d had probably the most rigorous shower he’d ever had, due to having to rid almost every inch of his body of the blood that clung so thoroughly. His heart had slowed to normal, his arm returned to normal, and he was back to a mundane dark room. He’d prefer to be out toppling a city than drying his socks.

He’d been so engrossed in watching the sock that he’d failed to notice the door had widened. A bright white light appeared in the corner of his eye, and a familiar egg shaped man entered with a glistening gem. Infinite lowered his hairdryer to the floor, focus shifted  and stood up attentively to greet him.

“Get that off my desk” he sneered, pointing limply at Infinite's mask.

Infinite complied, and fastened it back onto his face.

After a closer look, Infinite stared intently at the emerald within Eggman’s wide grasp. 

“Oh these ? You like it?” Eggman said, picking one at random from his selection and holding it out with an open palm. He held his arm lower, within eye level of the comparatively tiny Jackal.

Infinite’s eyes shifted from Eggman’s face down to the gem itself. He focused deeply, at the unnaturally bright colour, the alluring glow emanating from deep within, the pristine cut and most notably, how large these gems were. Infinite had never encountered quite like it. And here Eggman was, holding it so loosely with such little regard.

All Infinite knew is that he could have retired comfortably if he had that.

“This can be used for creating power, like that ruby. They too turn thoughts into endless power.” he described.

“Well, that is if you have all seven.” His words were obscured underneath his grumbling, the weight of his four emeralds becoming more apparent.

Infinite mentally recalled the man on the computer had three. And the Doctor had four. 

Eggman put the emerald down on the newly unoccupied desk space. One arm leant on the chair's back.

“Funny, that. To GUN, to Sonic, to me, these are worth everything. But to you, they’re just rocks. Whoever has these has power . I spent my time tracking the emeralds down to stop anyone else getting their hands on them, and so did they. But with the ruby, well, it’s just my little secret.”

Eggman continued explaining, and Infinite followed along.

Infinite asked, inquisitively, with one hand underneath his masked chin. His grin was hidden underneath the mask. “With this power, you wish to destroy the island?”

The Doctor’s loud and brash voice was unexpected to Infinite, who reflexively jumped in place. “Is that ruby plugging up that brain of yours? I already told you, I am building a theme park!”

“I apologise, Doctor.” he responded sheepishly, desperately maintaining his collected composure. His outstretched palms, held out by his sides without intention, slunk down.

“I can’t destroy the island when I live on it. That’s just common sense!” Eggman dramatically sighed, and put two fingers to his temples, exasperated.

Infinite kept silent. With hands behind his straightened back and feet side by side, all he could do was be obedient and apologise.

Eggman retorted. ‘Don’t insinuate such silly things.’ 

“I-I’m sorry, Doctor.” Infinite muttered, his normally proud demeanour shrivelled. He didn’t know what he was sorry for, all he wanted was for the Doctor to respect him, for the Doctor to continue to see him as strong and mighty like he was. Infinite just knew he ruined it, he should have stood up and explained himself, but he didn’t. And that stutter, how could he stutter like that?

“I thought we shared a common goal. And that’s why you sought me out?’’ Eggman said with a disgruntled sigh. To Infinite, he sounded disappointed. And Infinite did remember. Their first encounter , when he agreed to have the ruby inserted in his chest. He did say that. The Doctor explained his vision to reform the island and rebuild it through his robotics, his theme parks and factories. He expressly stated it was to beautify the island- not destroy it. It was apparently a common plan he had. And he and the Ruby were to aid him and his grand vision. Infinite profusely, wholeheartedly agreed to this on both paper and verbally. And the Doctor was so considerate as to explain it once more just the day before. And he still forgot.

 He went to mutter something about Cubot and his tea, as he perused through the papers pinned underneath the weight of his keyboard. He entered his password in uncomfortable silence. The jackal kept his eyes firmly planted onto Eggman, eyebrows knitted, a hundred responses springing to mind but none he deemed worthy of saying. Infinite took the time to drill Eggman’s words into his mind, mentally condemning himself for ever allowing himself to ever forget. How could he be that careless? He’d put in double the effort to make it up to him.

A cavalcade of tabs opened on the computer monitors. More reminders of Infinite’s much healthier heart rate, an empty calendar, an open tab of Sonic Simulator that he forgot to close, research documents on the Phantom Ruby, an email from a Spagonian prince regarding a loan, and his mech schematics. He sifted through them all with irritation, the force behind each click rising with each new tab that appeared.

And he finally arrived at the right tab. The surveillance footage of the Green Hill Factory, showcasing a faultless, orderly conveyor belt line. Robotic arms assembled identical grey robots, each arm contributing a specific part. Remarkably quickly, the robot would awaken and be ready to ship out the door. The speed and efficiency was unseen and unparalleled in any of his previous factories.

Infinite’s eyes were locked onto the corner, where he saw a cube filled with a pink substance with ebbing black swirls, remarkably similar in colour to the ruby he possessed. The wires fed into the arms and gave them motion.

Endless power, hm.

“These robots are simple. They obey your orders, they carry them out. And if they get too snappy and forget their place, you scrap them and reboot.” Eggman mused.

He refused to linger. With lightning fast yet calculated presses, he switched the camera feed. Instead of a flat assembly line of dozens of spherical robots, the screen showed a huge mech with folded wings, a rather large minigun in one arm and a protruding metallic drill in the other. It was in some kind of dark warehouse, unlabelled and unnoteworthy in design. The rows of dim lights on the torso vaguely illuminated the robot’s red torso. Robotic arms, linked together by luminous pink cord, drilled and wielded working continuously with equal diligence.

“Excellent. It’s almost ready!” he called out.

With Infinite mesmerised by the construction, Eggman decisively rapped his knuckles against one particular monitor. The first knock was assertive, to garner the jackal’s attention. It was another map of the city, a sight he was all too familiar with.

“Attack the remaining sector.” His words were clear as day and rung loud in Infinite’s mind.

And without hesitation, Infinite responded. 

“Gladly, Doctor.”

—

When Rouge woke up, the only proof of morning came from the digits on her communicator. The dark, windowless, cramped little room she found herself in showed no indication. She had dozed off on a scrappy wooden chair in an offshoot room of the main basement without thinking, just besides the refrigerator she had yet to search. She became uncomfortably aware of the chill wafting through due to the thin material of her purple suit.

As she got up onto her feet and entered the main room, it hit her. The pungent smell. Those couple of hours she was asleep made her completely unaware of the awful, sickly, metallic scent of blood. Combined with the lingering summer heat, it was dreadful.

Shadow was still sitting on the chair. His head ever so slightly tipped to his side and resting on his shoulder, hands locked in the same position as hours ago just and the blanket unmoved. The half eaten, crumbling granola was held upright, held in between a squeezed closed fist now coated in crumbs. The soft blanket’s fabric still conformed against his figure from where he was tucked in.

She tiptoed around his sleeping form, leaning her head to get a peek at his still face, confirming that yes, his eyes were firmly shut. He looked just as much of a wreck as last night, with pinkish-grey chest fluff that clumped together, bloodstained bandages that were in dire need of changing, and dishevelled quills. Rouge couldn’t help but feel joy at the fact that he’d actually got to sleep, that he was able to get a moment of peace through it all. Rouge knew that she couldn’t leave the room without prior warning lest she give Shadow, already stressed, another panic attack. And she was in no particular rush anymore.

She knew she could search the refrigerator to kill some time. Maybe the owners hid something valuable there . It was probably all just ice cream and ingredients but it was worth a shot. Momentarily satisfied and mind made up, Rouge turned her back to the hedgehog.

It must have only been a few seconds before the short lived silence came crashing down.

With a creak of a wooden chair, a rush of air, the crinkle of static and a sharp boom, something had pounced up behind her. 

Something sharp just inches away from her neck made Rouge freeze in place.. A knife. A sharp, GUN issued knife stained in dried oil on the blade and blood on the handle. Rouge could just about get a glimpse of the assailant's red streaked hand, and their gold inhibitor ring.

Shadow had, with lightning speed, sprung up from his peaceful slumber.. With eyes wide and scowl heavy, he forcefully edged the knife closer. The faintest sensation of metal tickled her neck. His spines had sprung upwards, ears pricked and a raspy hiss emanated through clenched teeth. Yet, Rouge remained still, with a little grin on her face.

After seconds of assessment, the grip was loosened and Rouge was freed. With the knife slotted back into the holster gingerly, his momentary fearfulness rescinded into neutrality. Yet he still seemed wary, fingers in a claw position and widened eyes analysing her every move. 

“Good morning, Shadow.” She greeted, smiling face to face with a wary Shadow nonchalantly. His hand still hovered over the knife with a stiff hand. “Sleep well?”

“I need a bath.” he grumbled, with a deadpan stare.

Rouge had zero objections.

“I don’t think there’s any soap here but…” She did a confirmatory scan across the shelves, despite checking and double checking hours ago. “I can take you to the lake. Water looks pretty clean.”

“Take me?” he queried, raising a brow quizzically.

“Well, yeah. It’d be best if we stick together when we can, just in case something happens.”

Shadow bowed head low and clenched his eyes shut.

‘I understand.’ he sighed.

Chapter Text

Outside, the sky was clear, blue and cloudless, a soft breeze interspersed the sweltering heat. By all accounts, the day was perfect.

The city was the same as it was the day before, same bullet holes, same locked doors and same chipped stones. Blue and white birds nestled upon balconies in rows, unperturbed in their solace. Yet it all felt off, so artificial. The silence wasn't welcoming, it was concerning. They walked through this city they had grown so familiar with as if they were tourists.

Rouge had taken Shadow to a pebbly beach just in the centre of the city. Just besides their spot was a red steel bridge which bisected the lake. At just a lane wide, it carried no cars, nor mobians to drive them.

He hadn't known silence quite like this since he lived on the ARK, nor had he considered silence. He had never taken the time to actually go to a beach, either. He faintly remembered running along the ruins of ocean ruins on a distant summers' day, but that was different. He was there for a mission, not for the cool waves, the sunshine nor the silence. He barely remembered a thing, what with his still cloudy mind fixated on his past.

Shadow unwrapped the browning bandages around his arm and sides. The wounds, inconspicuous behind his inky black quills, had vanished. The skin had started stitching itself back up and the lost blood had regenerated. There was no need to hide them anymore.

With the sun on his back, Shadow waded through until he was waist deep in the water, and it reached his holster. He preened his dishevelled quills. picking apart the hardened clumps and washing the excess gunk off. He took the time to unsheath his unsightly dirty knife and wash the blood off, for his own peace of mind.

The rippling of water and the gentle rustling of the trees accompanied his thoughts. He knew he couldn't rest, he had somewhere to be. Every second he spent in this lake, he was losing. And whatever it was that was doing this, whether it be an Eggman robot or some ancient god the Doctor had summoned, it was gaining the advantage.

They were both unsatisfied and lost. Victory was just within grasp, they'd stopped Eggman before. They knew it was Eggman. There was nobody else it could be. But there was something else. They'd wanted it to be simple, but it wasn't. They wanted to know what was going on, but they couldn't. They were losing.

A wave brushed past his thighs. He lost his train of thought.

—

So, it was back the way they came. The same picturesque path. They'd planned to return back, grab something to eat and then plan out their day. Rouge wanted to go back into the factory. Shadow wanted to find more civilians. It was whoever made the more convincing argument that would decide.

A lone robot wandered down the path. The two, obscured by darkness, hid behind the wall in a narrow alley. Shadow's finger wavered over the trigger of his gun.

Rouge's outstretched arm kept Shadow in place. As he jolted backwards in place, his raised foot lowering back down to the floor, he shot her a glare.

"Stop. You'll attract more." she hissed, tone kept to a near whisper.

Shadow peered over his shoulder. The robot marched a few steps closer. It paused, looked to the left, then to the right, then proceeded. It wouldn't pass them immediately, but soon enough.

Nudging Shadow's side with an elbow, she pointed towards a low-hanging window ledge, then up at the roof above them.

Rouge leapt up to the ledge, getting a solid footing before reaching her hand out to an irritated Shadow. He grasped her hand tightly, and she yanked him up.

They'd reached the flat roof, and as they peered down to the street below, the robot had progressed on its march, none the wiser.

"It came from down there. You think something happened?" she pointed forward. Just from the view from the rooftops, nothing seemed out of place.

They'd never considered the power of one Eggman robot. That one, insignificant, grey robot. Not even painted, blind to anything that wasn't in direct sight. Yet when one walked, a hundred more were following right behind. It was a question of where they were.

—

When leaping rooftop to rooftop, Shadow never considered what he would find. Maybe a swarm of rogue robots, Eggman himself or someone else entirely.

He'd arrived just in time, by all accounts. He ran fast, never tripped up, and went the most straightforward path he could conceive. Yet he was too late?

The more he ran, the worse the damages got. The outskirts were as much of a ghost town as the rest of the city. The changes were more gradual, like being turned up on a slider scale every hundred or so metres. Every few houses, something out of place was pasted in. A battered robot in the middle of his path (which he effortlessly side stepped to avoid, without losing his momentum), a battered window to his right and a blood splatter on the left. At first, these seemed like abnormalities, out of place in such a idyllic town.

But as he progressed, it only got more frequent. Bricks were chipped away at. Metal fences had bent back, like they were reeling from a blast's impact. Waning fires brewed in corners, with no fuel and nothing but robot parts and dusty rubble to spread to. But what he couldn't see were bodies- neither alive or dead. The only signs that mobians were ever here were from the blood they left behind.

He had to confirm his suspicions. So, he broke into civilian houses. At best, he'd find out if these civilians were alive and in hiding, and at worst, he would have weakened their defences against another robot attack.

Shadow kicked down several doors from their hinges with little resistance, the doors being thin and wooden and the locks, if any, were all flimsy. He ended up kicking a hole through the door in more instances than he would have preferred, the heat radiating from his jet boots proving too troublesome for the old material. He scouted around as much as he could in within the strangers' houses about a minute, calling out to see if anyone was in there. All houses seemed totally untouched, well lived in and fully operational, as if the families themselves had just been copied and pasted out of the frame. From what he could read from his waning chaos powers, he detected no chaos signatures throughout.

He didn't have much to go off, but nobody was left in the area.

Shadow expected to see nobody, but it confused him nonetheless. The timeframe in which a feat like this was possible. How did such a large group of people disappear like this, seemingly overnight? Did they evacuate, and if so, where? The area around the city was a green field from what he observed. Was there anywhere else inhabitable on the island?

With questions emerging in his mind, he continued onwards down the path. He came to a square, which if he put it aptly, was like the aftermath of a battle. Like a huge fight that broke out between robots on one side and mobians, denoted by their blood, on the opposite. Bullet casings sprinkled the entire area, which had been carved roughly by craters, some digging into the dirt underneath and one even intercepting the water pipes. A fountain of water had erupted, pooling in the hole below.

Whoever these mobians were, they put up a fight.

He saw a robot with a dent in its head, the red light drained from its eyes. The metallic shell had caved in far enough to reveal its wires and circuitry. Lying right next to it was a metal crossbar, bent at the edge. It was strewn across the floor, smeared a sheer coating of crimson.

Pinned underneath the crossbar was a scrap of paper, with someone's bloody fingerprints scraped down in lines. It had dried in the sunshine.

Without thinking anything of it, he pinched it out from underneath the robot's claws, which held it down like a paperweight. He pulled the corners to wrangle out the crease marks.

It was just someone's happy, smiling family. A teal wolf mother, a red wolf father and their two kids. He had no time to be looking at this.

"Shadow, you can't keep running off like that!" Half in run and her strides enhanced by her outstretched wings, she slowly descended onto the ground, one foot at a time.

"What's this?" She called out, peeping over Shadow's shoulder at the image he held between his fingers. The hedgehog was hesitant to twist the picture to her direction.

"Unimportant. Let's go." He bent down to place the picture exactly where he found it, lifting up the robot arm to slide it back under.

Shadow kept his pistol in his two hands close to his chest. He looked below him, shoes crunching on the odd shard of glass.

'Shadow, have you seen any activity here?' she asked. Shadow was walking forward briskly, and Rouge tagged along behind him. Whilst she kept her view steady and forward facing, his wary eyes snapped onto winding alleys and the narrow slits of light between the wooden bars into desolate rooms, focused on any signs of movement within.

'I haven't.' He stated.

She replied, disappointedly. "You still haven't seen a single mobian?"

'No.' He affirmed, dryly. He walked faster.

'How is something like this even possible?' She pondered, shaking her head in disbelief. She hoped Shadow would give her an answer, but didn't even give a grunt in response.

One particular street was in bad shape. Despite the area smelling vaguely like burning sugar mixed sweet buttered pastries, the site was far grimmer than the rest. The front of some houses had been decimated in one singular blast, exposing the living rooms to the open air, and scattering household belongings. The wind slightly picked up, causing a metal shop sign barely hanging on to creak.

In between the creaking, they heard a small, faint squeak. First Rouge, then Shadow heard it too. It was unnaturally high pitched, and as they came closer to the source, it became needy, whiny and incessant.

She pointed towards a shop, with a trail of blood leading into it, which thinned out at the ends where they stood. The glass windows had shattered inwards, splattered all over the wooden floor, along with the ceramic shards, dirt and stringy roots of a potted plant caught in the impact. Whilst Rouge peeked through the gap, Shadow wasted no time in kicking the door open. It was unlocked, and swung open with a bang to slam against the wall behind. The bell clanged in response, swinging in a full arc before jingling out.

"They rolled out the red carpet just for us. How considerate"' Rouge said, her laugh dry and forced. Upon realising that Shadow elicited no response, nor Omega around to perhaps pick up on it and comment, with his typical booming yet strangely sincere statement. Nothing was said in response.

The trail continued up until the wooden desk in front, the wood buckling under a presumably heavy weight that had been hurled at it. The entire air was thick, weighing down the air and coating it with a brown tint. Little of the original wooden floor was left uncovered by dust or scraps. The two of them treaded carefully across uneven floors.

A wolf paused at the door frame, emerging from a back room. They were very much alive, breathing and real. They had a speck of blood on the corner of their thick rimmed glasses and staining their muzzle, matching the unkempt red of their fur. They clasped both hands together around a tiny, squishy wisp, fingers tapping, fiddling and prodding against each other. Despite being a few inches taller than Shadow, and their oversized apron and wide olive boots, they felt so small and fragile. Their weight shifted back and forth on their feet, creaking the floorboards on each switch. They looked lost, standing straight up and outward with an expressionless face and no recognition of the two GUN agents who'd entered. It was if someone was conversing with them from outside the window, and they were simply listening in.

The wisp, the one making all this racket, silenced itself upon seeing the two.

Rouge gasped, pulling Shadow aside, hands gripping just short of a former injury she'd patched up, and whispered in his ear. She blocked out her mouth with her hand, purposefully.

"They were in the photo. I swear that was them." she said. The kid's face was blank and fixated wide eyed on nothing tangible. Nothing had changed. Rouge hoped they didn't listen in, but judging by their lack of reaction to anything, it was unclear what they even focused on. She thought back to that picture, the one she saw for only a few seconds before Shadow snatched it away. Whilst in the picture, the red wolf had neatly swept fur, preened most likely in time for the photo, and a gleeful, carefree smile, the mobian that stood before them was far from it. With messy bangs that cast shadows on their unblinking amber eyes and formerly swept back fur that dropped to their shoulders, the contrast was striking yet the similarities were undeniable.

The words didn't appear to reach the red wolf, whose face remained blank and wide blown stare hadn't moved an inch. Not a thought appeared to run through their head.

Shadow made no attempt to lower his abrasive voice, nor turn to face her. He knew the kid could hear his words. He roughly swatted Rouge's hands away from his ear.

"And?"

"Then someone out there is, or was, looking for them." She whispered, regardless. Her heart sank upon realisation of the city's desertedness.

"I didn't come here to reunite a family." He said.

The red wisp curled up in their arms began squirming, barely being contained in the wolf's hands. It continued to whimper. Its little tendril slipped through their fingers and its head butted against their palm.

They both noticed it had a little chunk of wood stuck in one tentacle, resting just above their tendril. A splinter pricked into its gelatinous surface.

The kid kicked into motion, seemingly unaware of their previous state, panicked. They sat the wisp down at a table in the tattered back room, laying it out, brushing its head with a reassuringly soft sweep of their fingers after placing it down tenderly. They attempted to dislodge the splinter by gently sliding it out, yet the wisp continued to yelp in pain. One tug, barely lifting it a few millimetres. Once the wisp cried out in pain, the kid would freeze, stroking the tiny wisp's head once more in an attempt to soothe it.

Shadow knelt down and unceremoniously yanked the piece of wood out in one swift rip.

The wisp's three eyes flooded with tears as it let out one singular, ear-piercingly shrill screech. The kid stared open mouthed, aghast at Shadow, holding the wisp in a tight hug around their chest and rocking it gently. It kneaded within the linen folds of their apron, kicking and whimpering as the air rushed into their wound.

Shadow dropped the splinter uncaringly, where it became no more than a speck of rubbish and dust lining the floor.

He turned his back on the two, and headed for the door.

Rouge called out. "Hey, wait a second. Don't you want to find civilians?' Rouge held out her arms, pointing to the kid and their crying wisp. 'You've just found one here!'

"What they do is of no consequence to me. This just means I'm getting closer to whoever is behind this."

She huffed. "Shadow, you..."

He walked out before she could finish, elbow propping open the door. The bell violently swung along with the door, hitting against the ceiling with a clang.

She remained in stunned silence, hands balled into fists. Once the bell halted, she took a deep breath.

She wanted to act appalled, horrified, just to make Shadow reconsider. But she knew he would never. He acted as he saw fit, and she could never change that.

"Sorry about that." She confessed, sheepishly clasping both hands together, directing her sincere apologies to both the wisp and the kid, fencing off all the disappointment to maintain a kindly face. "He's a pain. He means well, I promise."

Rouge had to break the awkward silence between the two. Yet she'd rather be on her intended mission in Green Hill than befriending this kid. Had she known GUN would leave her stranded without backup, she would have never agreed to this. It was frankly demeaning. She kept a courteous demeanour.

"So what's your name?"

The kid never responded. They instead reached into the pocket of their apron, fishing out a silver bracelet with a bulbous green gem. Trembling, they held it out in front of them in two cupped hands, with pleading eyes and a shy smile creeping on their face. It didn't seem natural, with the rim of their glasses barely concealing the tears that prickled the corners of their rapidly blinking eyes. The handle had a heavy crack mark bisecting it, and appeared to be held together by hot glue. It was a hasty, rushed attempt at healing what had been broken. Yet they offered it anyway.

"Hm, what's this?" she asked, inquisitively. Her eyes lit up, with her hands eagerly gripped onto the item.

The bracelet itself looked shoddy, but the gem in the centre was divine. Rouge definitely knew it was a real one of some kind, judging from how it shone and twinkled in the strips of natural light, but what kind it was was unknown. It was green, a similar luminous lime green to one of the chaos emeralds, but cut in a circle and far lighter. The bright green didn't match her purple and pink outfit, she'd never pair the two together on a normal day, but she was happy to accept something so beautiful regardless.

"For me? Aw, you shouldn't have!" She fitted the bracelet through her wrist. Holding her wrist up above in front, then swung out to the side. It glistened and dazzled against a dull grey and brown backdrop. The wolf shot out an uncertain hand, unsure whether to keep it by their side or to grab the bracelet back. Pouting, their hand hovered in place, before returning back by their side, with too Rouge entranced by the gem to ever notice. They opened their mouth, as if to speak, but firmly shut it soon after.

"So, how long have you been in here?" she made another sweeping attempt at a broad conversation. With a relatively clean gloved finger, she traced the outside of the gem, regretfully feeling a heavy abrasion on the surface in a normally smooth gem.

She paused her appreciative study of the gem, and glanced up at the kid expectantly, awaiting their response.

And they gave nothing. The exchange was casual and unremarkable, yet they shied away from eye contact, trembling in place.

Rouge abandoned her conversational attempts.

"We'll try and catch up with Shadow." she suggested.

Rouge hadn't realised she'd uttered out 'we'll' until she finished her sentence. Taking this kid with her was not part of the plan. Somewhere in the city, hopefully, was a family that tirelessly looked for them, and she was out here on a GUN mission. Having an inexperienced kid and their screeching wisp tag along would complicate the matters and greatly improve the chances of failure. They were untrained in stealth, in military combat, let alone witnessing the horrifying reality of what had become of their town. They were so fragile and could barely stand on their skinny two legs without wobbling.

But then again, where else could they go?

Her view cast down to the bloody trail, the smashed goods, the entire empty street worth of carnage. And then back at the tiny wolf, trapped and troubled in their own unmoving thoughts, decked out in his oversized clothes stained in someone else's crimson blood. As far as she knew was the only one left in a city of presumably thousands.

Sadly, she had been desensitised to this kind of destruction for years, a necessary part of working alongside GUN. The wolf, however, didn't have that luxury.

"Ready to go?"

They jumped in place, teetering on the heels of their boots, eyes darting all over until they swirled back in place, firmly locked upon the bat who looked so cordially across at him. They gulped back air, clamouring to compose themselves as if with seconds left.

She repeated the same question once more, with the same intonation. It took moments to register, with nothing but their rapid breaths filling the silence. Rouge smiled at them, reassuringly. The kid hesitantly pointed a finger towards themselves with their head tilted to the side, and raised an eyebrow.

Rouge held out her hand, now decorated with a shiny new gem, and they loosely and apprehensively took it.

—

Shadow had made it far through the city. He had no idea where he was, or whether he'd been here before, with all the sunset houses looking identical to him. The damages that plagued the area had become less frequent, but still noticeable. He cursed the bright, sunny weather, as the sun beat down upon him and stung his eyes. There was no indication of where to go next, nor did he know if the threat was still out there, but he would continue regardless.

He would be out for about half an hour, doing what he did before. He would trace every bit of blood with his finger, scraping along the floor. All he got was a finger coated with dust.

Shadow heard some footsteps coming from a side road up ahead. They were fairly light, distant, and didn't have the clink of Rouge's heels. They seemed to walk a few steps, pause, then continue. It had to have been someone else entirely. And their breath, whoever they were, sounded laboured.

He made no attempt to hide his approach or quieten himself.

It was a shadowy figure, lurking in an alley at the end of the street. Around 3 feet tall, huge perky ears, long flowing tail, and grey mask with one eye hidden in black. He appeared to be gripping tightly to his chest, with a free hand holding his weary frame upright against the brick wall. Although submerged in shadow, a dull pink seeped through the gaps of his fingers that glinted in the sunlight.

For a fleeting moment, the two locked eyes. And the stranger froze in place like a deer in the headlights. Was that a chaos emerald he was holding?

His mind recalled the pink sludge Rouge had witnessed before.

It was a stretch, but he had to know more.

Shadow's intuition screamed at him to apprehend this man, to ask him who the hell he was, what he was doing and why he had that gem so close to him. So Shadow aimed the gun out in front of him, and before the figure could comprehend the imminancy, the pistol was fired.

The bullet hit its mark, and pierced the stranger's hand. He yelped in pain as he rolled into a heap on the floor.

Shadow continued forwards, gun dropping to his side, taking slow and methodical steps towards the alley. The strange man had his knees to his chest, back to the wall with a desperate palm squeezing his bloody hand. He stared in utter disbelief at the wound, opening and shutting his palm to run a thumb across the wound as confirmation that it was real.

Shadow got a good look at the gem. It dug deep within his chest, with no crevice in between his skin and the rock that jutted out of his chest. Much bigger than a chaos emerald in size, and triangular in shape. With, as Shadow suspected, dull pinkish-purple colouring and unmoving black lines.

"Tell me what that is, fox." Shadow demanded, holding a free hand underneath the strange man's neck, wringing him. He'd firmly lodged him to the wall, with little chance of freeing himself. The stranger squirmed in his grasp, spluttering for breath.

It didn't take long for the stranger to realise he had a gun lodged under his chin and his forearm pinning him back. Shadow's finger lingered over the trigger. He was waiting.

"You've never seen a jackal before?." he chided. His voice was deep and heavily modulated.

Shadow snapped at him. "On your chest. What is that?"

"You'll discover in due time, Shadow the Hedgehog." He croaked, undisturbed.

"How do you know my name?" He questioned, bewildered. He prodded the gun further until the force pushed him further against the wall. Yet the stranger was unconcerned, a little too comfortable.

Shadow's right hand pricked with a sudden bout of pins and needles, which spread up to his arm and travelled upwards. He kept his grip resolute. And then his arm trembled violently. In fact, the stranger was shuddering in an unnaturally violent manner, yet he still sat upright and was clearly conscious.

"Wha.. huh?" the jackal choked out, under a sharp breath. The black in his eye flashed red, then black, like a siren. He crumbled to his knees, his weight proving unbearable for his feet to support.

Shadow shot his hand backwards, flexing his fingers in order to get some kind of feeling back.

Irritated, Shadow fired at the gem on his chest, twice. While the jackal flinched, neither bullet did a thing to get him to stop. One refracted and chipped off a small section of the gem and the other got lodged in the centre.

The jackal was tinged red, an unnaturally bright red which ignored the shadows and engulfed the light. His whole body turned red, his gem, his mask. Shadow questioned if what he saw was even real, or his mind playing tricks on him.

Underneath the violent buzz, the mobian he was supposed to be intimidating was screaming. Now doubled over in a foetal position with hands clutching his head. His howls were garbled, with his sounds melding in with the hiss of static. The air around him seemed to be tinged with static. His reaction to all this seemed of genuine surprise, his screams of raw, unfettered fear.

Shadow was genuinely caught off guard.

He was as perplexed as the jackal was. He stumbled upon something deeper than he'd hoped, yet just as expected.

Shadow rushed out of the alley on shaky legs, gun in hand. He occasionally looked behind, to the blob of pure red that manifested in the shadowy alley that occasionally resembled a mobian.

"Shadow! What is that?" Rouge and the kid approached Shadow.

He said nothing, but let out an indignant 'hmph.'

"Did you see something? What's the buzzing, and is that screaming?" Rouge asked, gripping hold of Shadow's shoulders and shaking him roughly. She knew full well it'd agitate him.

The figure's obscured form had been carved up into equal sized cubes, which popped apart from the seams. They could just about see an outlined mobian in there, scared out of his mind.

Rouge caught a glimpse, and immediately stepped back with her hand covering her mouth.

Shadow fired another bullet. Upon the bang, the red wolf to the side jumped in place, losing footing and tumbling to the floor.

The bullet fizzled into dust before it could even reach the red mass.

"What the hell did you do?" Rouge snapped, eyes flickering with a red glaze.

"Get back." he warned, creeping backwards, with his hand outstretched. He guided her back.

Rouge, despite her apprehensions, listened. She took several cautionary steps back, Yet the kid remained stationary. They were on the floor, one hand propping themself up and the other held tight to their wisp. They were fixated on what was left, of what they could witness of the screaming jackal, who only enveloped more of the alley space. Entranced, they failed to budge an inch. The whistles and crackles, alongside fragments of his impained howling, echoed throughout.

"Move it!"

Shadow yanked the kid up on his feet by the arm, so hard it bruised and uprooted a few red flickers of fur. With Shadow's fingers clamped so tightly, he lifted the wolf upright, the tips of their oversized boots barely reaching the ground. The surprised wolf yelped as Shadow flung him back, with no resistance or no effort. The startled screams of them and their wisp were drowned out by the scratchy hisses of the scene unfolding before Rouge and Shadow. They landed somewhere behind with an audible crash, with their glasses clattering and smacking against the cobbles.

The whole alleyway emanated a bright white light. It consumed all the shadows, the walls, the houses and filled their entire vision. Soon, it burned into their eyes.

Rouge and Shadow, in the split second of awareness they had, ran back as far as they could.

And then, a huge boom. A splash of red cubes, which bounced and rolled down the street.

Shadow opened his eyes.

He was standing at the end of the street, wide eyed at the crater that had formed, the one that sizzled and fizzed, with the hot, wavy air tickling against his quills. The alley, the surrounding houses, the flat area of land he found himself in, all formed one giant indiscriminate hole. The jackal had vanished.

—

Rouge decided to return back to the base. Shadow reluctantly agreed, mostly to stock up on bullets. And the kid didn't have anywhere else to go. They tagged along wordlessly.

All three were in silence. Shadow sat in the corner, one leg crossed over the other and arms folded. He looked deep in thought. They sat on a bench, still visibly in shock. One arm held a damp cotton wool over the bruise that had formed on their aching jaw, the other prodding at a tin of beans with a fork. They could barely keep their arm upright.

Neither Shadow, Rouge nor the wolf wanted to be in the room. And nobody wanted to talk, or feign friendliness.

The two were completely silent. Shadow simply chose not to speak, and the kid was far too frightened to speak. Still covered in soot, eyes darting at the new environment they'd been placed in. They'd been poking at their beans for minutes instead of eating them, their hand trembling too hard to scoop up anything and their mind too shaken to focus on eating. The food had long gone cold and the beans were more mush than substance. Their fork tapped the bottom, scraped the sides and never left the tin.

"You don't have to eat it." Shadow spoke up, filling the empty room. The kid jumped in their seat, their eyes darting from the floor up to the black hedgehog. Their hand temporarily froze in place, and the fork clanged against its container. Tomato sauce splattered over their knees.

The kid could barely look back, once they felt their eyes meet Shadow's, they shied away. Their frown, with two protruding fangs, was unrelenting.

They placed the tin beside them, fork upright. They rubbed their sore, dull eyes.

"Tired?" Shadow inquired bluntly.

They shook their head once indignantly, before placing their hands on their knees and casting a sullen glance at the floor.

"You need anything else?" Rouge chimed in, making extra effort to sound upbeat in Shadow's stead.

Their head kept low, and they could barely muster up the strength to once again shake their head.

Shadow didn't need sleep or to eat. The kid didn't want to sleep or to eat. Neither wanted to talk. It was going to be a long night.

"Did you see where everyone in your street went?" Shadow asked.

The kid paused, grimacing at the question. They nodded once, yet upon pondering the question further, their head stiffened.

Obviously, the kid didn't feel like speaking nor doing charades. And forcing them would make it worse. Their patience was definitely growing thin.

"Were they killed?" he questioned, plainly.

"Shadow!" Rouge barked from across the room.

They gave one nod, before solemnly lowering their head.

"Did you see who killed them?" Shadow followed up, making conscientious effort to ignore Rouge rapidly shaking her head and mouthing at him to shut up.

They nodded once more, reluctantly.

Shadow got up, and picked up a blank sheet of paper from the table, unfortunately stained with the imprints of his bloody glove, then a selection of coloured pens.

"Draw them out for me." he commanded.

The kid got to work, picking up the cracked half of their glasses and holding it above one eye. but their hand could barely draw a straight line without it becoming a jagged curve. They drew, or attempted to draw, a pointed triangle, circular body. A swishy tail, pointed ears and jagged hair came in next. Then a small triangle in the centre, with black triangle patterns in the centre. They flicked off the lid of the red biro and scribbled this in red.

They froze mid scribble, pen flicking to a halt. They could only stare in horror at what they just created, hands unbearably twitching.

Their eyes began to well up with tears.

The tremors spread to their fingers, the grip on the paper loosened. The pen flew out of their hands, clanging against the floor and rolling to a stop under the chair leg. They held their head in their hands, and sobbed. Their red wisp whined, nuzzling up against their face with its little tendrils wrapped around their face like a hug.

Instead of reaching out to comfort the sobbing child, Shadow grabbed the sheet of paper and returned to his seat, to which he succinctly held in front of him and studied. He should have known better to expect something legible from a terrified kid. Yet despite the scribbles and uneven colouring, it was abundantly clear who this was.

That damn jackal from before.

"Shadow, knock it off." Rouge chided, standing at the door frame with arms folded.

"It's him. He did this." Shadow held up this scrappy drawing to a bemused Rouge.

"Ignore him sweetie. You want some ice cream?" She glared daggers at Shadow, whilst resuming her polite, unassuming tone. "Shadow, why don't you come here and find me the scoop?"

Shadow got up with a huff, eliciting a 'tch' as he stomped out to the side room.

'Cut it out.' she scolded.

Shadow crossed his arms.

'They've been through enough today, give it a rest!"

He held up this sheet of paper high, this scrappy drawing, with complete conviction. He pushed it closer to her face, and tapped at it with his finger. "This is a clue, and I'm going for it."

The sobs grew louder. They had their head in their hands, with their knees against their chest. The red wisp patted their shoulder reassuringly.

She grimaced.

"I get that you're determined but that was uncalled for." Rouge rebuked. Despite Shadow's forceful efforts to get her to notice his proof, her eyes focused on the child in the other room. Even the wisp's eyes welled up with tears. "Forcing that poor kid into giving you information is just unneeded! Show a little restraint!"

Shadow growled. "I'm one step closer to uncovering this. Don't get in my way."

"You put us all in danger in the process. What happened out there, Shadow? What did you do?"

"He's dangerous, and you got in the way. He was mine." He interrupted, his voice booming.

Rouge responded, making a conscious effort to keep her voice down, yet stay stern and affirmative. "See, whenever someone runs off alone, something bad happens. Don't you get it?"

Rouge swore she could hear the kid bolt out of his chair. She was concerned they'd run off into the town by themselves, but they ran up behind her. They tugged at her arm, using both hands to grip and pull her away.

She asked, knowing the answer full well. "Quick question. Did Omega mean nothing to you?"

"Of course he meant something!" he snarled, his fanged teeth bared. "But I can handle my damn self out there." he pointed at himself. He shifted further towards Rouge, becoming uncomfortably close and making her take a few steps back. "Because I am not weak!"

The kid howled, the tears falling profusely. They tapped, poked and prodded at Rouge's arm. They yanked it back, putting in triple the effort Shadow did to them just earlier that day. Rouge didn't budge an inch, nor did anyone notice their presence.

The kid began hitting their fist against her side, elbowing, anything. Shadow and Rouge continued to argue, as if they weren't even there. The wisp floated alongside, panicked. Their eyes darted between both their owner and the arguing. They tried to hide their three eyes with their tendrils, and curl up as small as possible.

No matter how hard the kid screamed until their voice went hoarse and begged incoherently, they wouldn't stop.

Rouge raised her arms instinctively, to try and get him to back off. Her face looked indifferent. She could see him shaking, and profusely try to swallow the lump in his throat.

Shadow's voice lowered significantly, as his eyes widened in realisation. He couldn't muster the strength to even look at her anymore. "If I die, at least I died for something."

"Quit being melodramatic. The world's burdens aren't yours to carry alone, Shadow. How many times are you gonna learn that?" She chided, uncontent with his small moment of vulnerability. The pent up frustration that she carried with him and the entire situation seeped out, unintentionally.

His anger picked up again in tandem.

"Where did that come from?" he barked.

He always denied this. It was sad, but to be expected, considering his earliest years.

"Who else is gonna stop this? Sonic is gone. Omega is gone. GUN abandoned us here. I'm the only one who can do this." he ranted. Gone was his stern, brooding composure. His hands balled up into fists and eyes pricked with tears.

The kid cowered behind Rouge.

"And what about me? What about them?" Rouge spoke about this kid so distantly, failing to even acknowledge they were in the room, let alone right behind them.

"They're just some mute kid." his voice was bordering on shouting at this point. Normally he'd give a one note 'hmph' or a monotone response underneath his consistent gloomy frown but this was concerning. He continued, baffled by her insinuation, or at least how he interpreted it at that moment. "How can they keep up with me?"

"Conveniently leaving me out, hm." Rouge said, with a sly smile on her face. She was offended, but hid it. She would savour the opportunity to prove him wrong.

Shadow was fuming. He'd dug himself into a hole of anger, supported by his stubbornness. Rouge knew how opinionated he was, her continuing would rile him up further. She was tired of this.

"If you think you're so powerful on your own. Do it. Stop everything, save the planet. I won't be there to patch you up." She shrugged apathetically. "I'll do things my way, and you do things your way. Let's leave it at that."

Shadow didn't need a second to reconsider, and stomped out the room with tensed fists. He didn't need to push past Rouge, as she had already stepped out of the way to let him past.

He picked up his favourite pump action smg, and a handful of ammo. He stashed it in his quills, all without any argument. He held the kid's drawing in between his fingers as if it were some kind of holy grail. Tears were streaming down his eyes and snot dribbled down from his nose. He failed to acknowledge any of it.

The wolf was still crying their eyes out yelling, gloved hands held over their eyes and clawing into their fur.

Chapter Text

There was a suspiciously significant gap in Tails’ day that went unaccounted for. Mentally recounting it all took more brain power than anticipated. Despite his jumbled and sleep-addled mind, some semblance of a timeline formed. That morning, he was tinkering away in his dimly lit workshop. He was so conscious of time’s passing that the work he did was nothing more than passive busywork to fill the gap. The early afternoon was when the day really started- under the bright summer sunshine of Sunset Heights at the invitation of Sonic. Despite being mere hours ago, these joyous events felt distant- like hazy events indistinguishable from dreams.

Sonic promised it would be a ‘fun trip to take his mind off the work’. 

There was zero premonition something like that would have ever happened. One fleeting moment he waited in great anticipation, barely keeping still in queue for both his and Sonic’s ice cream as he let impatience take hold of him. The delightful laughter and idle chatterings of mobians flipped to hopeless screams when a loud explosion rocked the very foundations of the shop. Every mobian in the vicinity spiralled into a panicked frenzy, calling out for loved ones as the dust clogged their vision. Then, the fox remembered feeling constrained, unable to freely move in a dark confine as heavy weights pushed and hauled him to the ground. Every part of him was crushed, bound down until his limbs gave out. That’s the last of what Tails remembered that afternoon.

Tails didn’t know how long he had been sleeping, until his eyes twitched open. His first sight was the light- interpreted as the sunshine upon awakening. Yet, the light was cold and harsh, tinted in blue. He was lying on something soft on his side, and not the square’s cobble floor. Upon tilting his head, he realised how hard his head was pounding. Something irritatingly itchy prickled against the fur on his forehead. He scratched at it. As the fox propped himself up by the elbows, which flared up with unanticipated pain, he saw a door straight in front of him. Tails inquisitively turned his head to study his surroundings, despite how hard his aching head protested. This room had crimson wallpaper with tiny gilded flower patterns, a curtained window, a mantle and a brick fireplace. Small pictures of a smiling mobian family and a tiny wisp creature were in decorative photo frames. He deduced that he was in someone’s house with little reconsideration.

He picked himself up off the sofa he was sprawled out on, spilling the contents of a first aid kit out on the floor. He pinched the fallen bandages and plasters back up into their bag, noticing how dusty his white gloves had gotten in such a short amount of time. He put it back onto a low coffee table, right besides some empty cups, cotton wool balls and some antiseptic. Pinching the window curtains open, enough to poke his nose through, he saw an orange sky and an entirely empty street devoid of mobians. He last remembered being out at 4.30pm. It was still broad daylight. The fox peeked at the digital clock on the mantle. It said 9:43pm, no matter how many times he double and triple checked it.

Tails knew he had to check the square where he last saw Sonic, hoping maybe he could catch him there. Then he’d insistently reassure Sonic he was okay. Tails just knew Sonic would be worried sick. Yes , the fox did wake in a complete stranger’s house, but he was positively fine. Whoever they were, they found him and patched him up, for some reason. 

Tails didn’t expect to find the entire street actually empty, or the next street he crossed through to be empty either. In all his short journey to the square, he didn’t see or hear a single mobian. It was uncanny- the shops were still open, with their fresh, undamaged goods still lining the walls and the windows. Everything was still for sale, yet nobody was there to buy it. Yet all the curtains, blinds and shutters were firmly shut.

And when the fox got to the square, he found it half flooded, with the wrecked fountain continuously spurting water onto the floor. It was full of bullet holes, blurred beneath the streams. Mounds of trashed robots littered the place, some resembled the circular robots more than others. They poked out of the steadily rising puddles like stepping stones.

He expected the water to just skim the surface of the cobbles below but upon taking one first step, he was proven wrong. The water seeped into his trainers steadily. He shivered at the sensation.

Instead of walking further, he chose to fly just above the ground. Flight felt so alien to his confused, aching brain. The years of practice he’d accumulated had just slipped his mind and felt more like an unnatural concept.

His eyes skimmed past a teal cat splayed out on the ground, half submerged. With no trace of injury or discomfort on their peaceful face, Tails chose to believe he was just sleeping. He noticed something yellow poke out from underneath what was left of the table, the one he faintly remembered sitting at earlier that day. His notebook was there, unmoved and tucked underneath two snapped chunks of wood. The sides of the pages had been splashed, and the pages that scattered out onto the floor proved too waterlogged to salvage.

He scrambled to turn the pages, flipping through his old familiar notes from months ago up to the middle. Some ink had smudged, and some pages had begun to tear out. A smile beamed on his face as he realised that the majority of his work had survived, was perfectly legible, and whatever was lost could be recovered.Tails clutched his notebook with two hands and held it close to his chest, breathing a deep sigh of relief.

That’s all the fox knew. Outside the city and back in the more familiar Emerald Beach, everything was the same as it had always been. With the sun having set and the streetlamps flickering on one by one, the residents returned back into their houses wearily, waving one another goodbye for the night. Some stopped to chat, with conversations passing from fence over to fence. Tails had no time to chat or acknowledge anyone’s heartfelt greetings as he raced back to his workshop down the old stone path. He failed to acknowledge the kindly old mice in their front yard who anxiously inquired if he was feeling alright. He had no idea what he’d answer, anyway.

—

Tails stared at himself in the mirror of his own inexplicably sparkling clean bathroom.  Purpling bruises on his arms and legs, new ones that seemingly sprung up out of nowhere, stuck out against his ruffled yellow fur. Idly pinching out the dishevelled white fluff of his muzzle, he let his mind ponder further. A wad of white bandages looped tight around his head, that mindfully avoided his three protruding tufts of fur. Unravelling them revealed a swollen red cut, which he cautiously scraped against his finger. It stung a little, but not a lot. He questioned why there was even a bandage to begin with, as he certainly didn’t place it there himself. At least, that’s what he convinced himself. 

He didn’t even need one at all. Tails had burned himself with a blowtorch so many times. He’d hit his fingers with a hammer countless times. He once accidentally sawed into his hand when he was so sleep deprived that he mistook it for a hunk of wood. It hurt, and it left scars, but he never beat himself up for it. He just stuck some antiseptic on it and got back to work. Out of all those little mishaps, he created great robots and helpful gadgets. He had to break a few eggs to make an omelette, as he sometimes said. 

Sonic would always notice the little bruises more than he did. Tails could hear his voice vividly in his thoughts, as if he was calling out from across the workshop at that very moment. 

Sensing mild discomfort from the fox as he recoiled from an accidental injury was always enough to send the hedgehog running to his side. He’d remind him to be more careful with those tools, then succinctly leave as quick as he arrived. Tails didn’t know quite how to describe his demeanour in those moments. As always, it was distractingly jovial, carefree and cool. Sonic would have that cheesy smile of his, yet unlike it usually was, it just looked unnatural. Someone as outwardly extroverted as himself never had trouble with eye contact, yet he purposefully focused on the wall behind him. Sonic was never usually shy or dishonest. He was avoidant, however.

It was like that ever since he first met Sonic. The four and a half year old Miles ‘Tails’ Prower waddled around in huge red trainers that barely fit him, so he could be just like his hero. He followed Sonic around everywhere like his shadow, and spent huge chunks of his day tinkering with Sonic’s plane in the hopes of impressing him. Being a surprisingly quick learner, he vastly improved his mechanical prowess in just a few short months. And when he’d accidentally slip up and hurt himself, Tails would cry. Sonic would go tend to the wound himself and give him a mint candy to cheer him up. He’d gently pat Tails’ head and tell him ‘ don’t worry buddy! ’ in a reassuringly soft tone. Sonic would grin, and give a thumbs up until Tails would do it back. It didn’t matter how minor the injury was, or how hard Tails would cry. He just didn’t want to see his little brother in pain.

But it wasn’t Sonic who placed this bandage. In fact, he didn’t even know where Sonic was.

Tails shied away from looking more intensely at himself in the mirror. Sonic was right, he did look tired and overworked. He traced the red indentations around his eyes with a finger.

Were they really that noticeable? Did anyone question it? Did he really wear his goggles for that long?

Not wishing to ponder on it too long, he mentally vowing to himself that he’d get a decent night's sleep, drink some more water and take frequent breaks in his work. At least, that’s what he assured himself, whether or not he’d slip up was his call. With enough preparation, Tails left the bathroom and out into his hallway. 

He wasn’t quite sure where to go next, with tiredness severely limiting the possibilities. The first thought that sprung to mind was to go back to the workshop and enhance his robot research. After all, his feet instinctively walked there as if on auto-pilot, before he shook his head scornfully. Stomping his foot down mid-step defiantly, he turned back the other way. Bobbing his head in a half-hearted attempt to nod and congratulate himself, he took in a deep breath and rolled his shoulders back, correcting his tired hunched over form. 

A beige coloured blob entered his line of vision, emitting the same bleeping sounds he’d heard for so many years from the countless badniks he’d crushed. It was the circular robot at the end of the hallway, the same one he’d been tinkering on all day. It carried a stack of objects in its hands that reached just below its eye sensor. Traversing the hallway with remarkable familiarity and awareness, the likes of which impressed the young fox, it marched in a straight path with one short step at a time. With every step, the machinery whirred and buzzed. Its heavy tracks clunked against the worn wooden floor, making the photo frames on the walls shake with every step. Then, as Tails was busy pondering how the robot who was confined to walk a few inches in Tails’ lab under supervision, could make it this far, he noticed everything it carried in its grasp. It was a lot, of all different sizes, weights and origins. Despite reprogramming the robot himself, something about a badnik taking all his belongings away felt worrying.

“Hey, come on! Don’t take that!” Tails whined. He held out a hand in front as if to demand the robot cease its current actions, then kept it held out when the robot kept on moving regardless. He growled, exacerbated. He wished he sounded snappy and authoritarian, so that if the robot could hear him he’d sound way cooler. 

He sprinted back into the workshop, looking for any kind of screwdriver he could use to crack open the robot and switch it off. He knew exactly where he left them, and he’d grab them before the robot could do any further meddling. As he ran back, the unexpectedly polished floor caused his quick feet to stumble over themselves. He gained some kind of traction back as he gripped onto the workbench, yanking himself up by the elbows until his feet could stabilise themselves. He quickly caught his breath.

He couldn’t recall the last time he or Sonic last mopped the floor.

To his horror, everything in his workshop was gone, except the barebones furnishings. This included the robot parts that he’d laid out at his bench, the sticky notes he left out for himself, his goggles, even his speaker and his tins of mints. The bench he worked at, the bench he practically lived at. And the screwdrivers, which he kept consistently in a place only he knew and could locate up in an instant, were gone too.

And all the while, the robot continued its innocent path of orderly destruction.

Tails scoured the shelves for anything of use. All the tools were gone, only things that were left were spare aprons, old blow torches and heavy books. Tails regretfully picked up the heaviest book he could find, an encyclopaedia he got gifted on his 6th birthday that was dappled in a thin layer of dust.

As the robot marched back on another lap of the hallways, its empty hands outstretched and gripping air, Tails creeped behind him. He held up the book high above his head, and with one mighty swing, he knocked it off its feet. Now flipped on its side, it marched still, but its feeble legs kicked against the floor as if walking through the air.

He sighed, his tone switching to a more sombre one. He looked downwards, and kicked his foot against the ground. “I’m sorry little guy, I’ll fix you up next time.”

“He made a total mess of this place!’ Tails remarked, entering the living room. He paused for a moment at the door frame, and chuckled, wiping a tear from his eye. ‘Well, that’s ironic. He was supposed to make things clean, and well, he succeeded!’

The room too was empty of all garbage, all the books, remotes and anything easily movable. Whilst the room remained as clean as a furniture store display room, the bins were overflowing. The robot made more of a mess trying to clean the mess.

Tails recalled having programmed him to clean up all trash just before he left the house, making sure the robot knew of the locations of the bins at the very least. And that was all. He just didn’t expect the robot to learn and adapt this quickly. The last he saw of it, it was taking his first steps. And now, he was actually cleaning, and from what Tails could see it actually did a thorough job. 

“Looks like it couldn’t use doors, this room is safe.” He observed. It was Sonic’s temporary room, the one the hedgehog lived in on occasion. Sonic owned no possessions nor had any permanent residence. He used this simply as a place to sleep or to read a quick book. There was nothing to suggest the vibrant Sonic the Hedgehog was staying here. The decor was all of Tails’ choosing, reflecting his more cluttered lab than anything stylish.

Tails sat down at the desk (of which he’d handmade himself), stapling back the sheets of his notebook until it all fit together again. He flattened the pages down and poked at the now dried smudged patches. Tails felt satisfied with his scrappy notebook now, adding another layer of sellotape to keep the sticky notes secure. The book felt so light and thin in his grip. 

He now had nothing else to do. The possibility of cleaning up the house in an attempt to undo his robot’s mess did pass his mind, but it would be an arduous task he frankly didn’t feel like starting. Even eating felt like a chore. Plus, the robot probably moved all his snacks. 

Out of the corner of Tails’ eyes, he spotted something bright in a drawer kept slightly ajar. Leaning down to the side, he rooted through and grabbed it with great excitement. His old Miles Electric . The tablet was bulkier than the newer one, with a wider frame to support the smaller screen. It ran on batteries, and not solar power. It was the prototype he hadn’t touched for years. In regards to the finished Miles Electric, it was trash. The robot would probably have taken it. There was no reason to keep it when the finished one ran so much smoother.

‘I guess to a robot without sentience, anything is trash.’ he sighed. With the side of his glove, he wiped away the dust from the screen of his Miles Electric, and held down the power button.

He remembered Sonic came down with an awful fever one day. It was a year or two ago. The hedgehog arrived cold and shivering at his doorstep, out of the blue, during a heavy storm, casually asking for a place to crash for the night. He resembled a drowned rat more than a hedgehog. After a quick shower, he fell into a deep sleep. For two days straight Sonic slept, unmoving. He woke up disoriented and with an abnormally high fever, speaking about how he saw him, Knuckles, Eggman and even Big in this far off fairytale world filled with genies. Amidst his incoherent ranting, his awful coughing fits and intermittent consciousness, he’d spend his time playing on the old Miles Electric. Tails had got it to run Tomatopotamus CD , his favourite game in the series and ‘underrated masterpiece’. Sonic didn’t feel the same way, but nevertheless it killed time and he played it without complaint. Beating the game twice in quick succession was no easy feat, yet he did it. Despite all the pain Sonic had gone through and his hatred of being cooped up for that long, Tails fondly looked back at it. He spent day and night taking care of Sonic. He remembered helping Sonic when a level got too tricky, or when he needed to get water but could barely move. Sonic listened when Tails talked about his planes and his mechs in extensive detail, and when Sonic recounted his intricate stories of recovering the ‘seven world rings’, Tails listened with interest yet apprehension. 

The week-long ordeal was scary, with Tails occasionally buckling under the pressure and having to call in Amy and Vanilla for some guidance. Yet Tails was honoured that Sonic trusted him that much, and he was proud of how quickly he helped him recover. Tails didn’t feel the same glowing positivity about Tomatopotamus CD , but he remembered that time fondly.

—-

Still sitting in the chair, in the pitch black room, he played level after level of the game. It was mind numbing at this point, he didn’t have to think or challenge himself. He knew this game inside out and each shortcut felt like second nature. For the whole time he stared at the screen, he’d barely blinked nor moved an inch. His fingers would press down on the buttons, no more or no less than what was required. He’d hum along to some of the energetic dance tracks blaring out loud on occasion. 

The sound effects he’d become so accustomed to got quickly drowned out. What started out as a hum, something so light and distant he mistook it for a headache. It began to rattle against the very walls of the room. Tremors shook his table, his chair and all the belongings, with each thump reverberating against his skull. It roared, violently. The glass of the window rattled against the frame forcefully, with heavy wooshes of wind smacking against the panes. The very ground he sat on lost all stability, creaking and cracking below him. The air around him felt so heavy, humming with the sound of heavy machinery. Tails jumped out of his seat and audibly gasped, eliciting perhaps his first movement in hours. He slammed the pause button on the game and rushed to the window, yanking down the blinds in the hopes of seeing what just transpired.

The fox noticed dots of bright white lights illuminating a black sky, like twinkling stars. A huge pair of turquoise wings, like a luminous bird, curtained behind the reddish outline of a robot, one with spikes around the sleeves and a long snakelike tail. Despite the ruckus, it was so distant. It stood so tall against the night sky, with the separation between machine and sky being incalculable. Tails knew whatever it was, it had to be some kind of an Eggman mech. He never usually got to fight Eggman like this- it was always Sonic’s job. Tails was just the sidekick, it was like an unspoken rule between them. Tails didn’t place much consideration into where Sonic even was, he was probably out having an adventure of his own in some far off town.

Tails sank underneath his windowsill with his back to the wall, Resting the tablet on his legs and made a few focused taps. He triumphantly closed down Tomatopotamus CD , without thinking twice on whether or not he saved his data.

“I gotta do this. Get the Tornado and take it down!” He proudly declared. He could barely contain his excitement. He balled his hands up into fists and shook them vigorously.

He took a reassuring deep breath. He shook them both fists forwards, rattling them as he smiled jubilantly.

‘Yeah! I can do this!’ he said to himself confidently. 

He took whatever was closest to him and scooped it up into a spare backpack. His tablet would just about have enough space, he thought. Then he could grab a few packs of batteries, his notepad, a couple of pens. He didn’t have time for anything else. Contented, he slung it over his shoulder.

Usually, Tails would have Sonic controlling the missiles. He’d shoot, and Tails would fly. They were a great duo when it came to that. He didn’t have time to find the new Miles Electric, the one that was the most compatible with his plane. The tablet he had didn’t come with a map and couldn’t properly track his current speed or altitude, being less than ideal up against Eggman’s undoubtedly up to date tech. His was clunky, out of date but it was the best he had with the little time he had to spare. His piloting skills would be more than enough. As another bang left him wobbling and clinging onto the wall for stability, he knew it was his time to make a move.

The first thing he noticed as he ascended from the mini runway was the strong wind. It seemingly picked up out of nowhere, ruffling his fur. He’d never usually fly in these conditions, but for the sake of the fight he had to. The landing, for now, was an afterthought.

In his adrenaline fueled ascent he failed to notice how high up he really was. He could not only see the distant yellow dots of streetlamps and window light from the town below him, but the array of stars that gleamed in the pure dark sky. Circular dotted lights in rows which masqueraded as stars followed his every move. They were unnaturally bright, a sickly white light compared to the understated beauty of the actual stars.

He still couldn’t fully comprehend the scale of what he was up against. When he saw this robot in the distance from the comfort of his workshop, shrouded in darkness, it was manageable. It was reassuring even. But as he flew closer, it swamped him. The faint light guiding his plane along illuminated the path in front- a red wall of finely polished metal. Below him, the same wall of metal. The cannon, its left arm, pointed straight towards him. It was just as wide, if not wider than the length of his plane. He couldn’t quite tell. It barely seemed to notice him, instead focused on smashing the ground below.

Holding it out in front, the sleek metal exterior was highlighted by the billowing blue smoke emanating from the flapping wings. Tails instinctively gripped the steering wheel with both hands. The mech fired a hail of bullets directly towards him as soon as it spotted him. With a whelp, he sharply turned the plane down with one firm yank, with another shielding his head with the other. The bullets followed where he went, albeit with less than precise aim. They circled around him, making him curl over and duck down, forehead bumping against his Miles Electric on occasion. One stray bullet managed to shatter the edge of the protective glass of the Tornado’s cockpit, making his hands instinctively shudder as the shards caved in. He turned his head away, blinking away any stray glass dust that prickled against his eyes. A couple flew back against his fur, before fleetingly scattering behind him into the distant winds.

Despite the efforts to dodge the barrage of bullets, he steadied himself to take aim at the mech. He locked onto any discernible weak spot he could see in the thick darkness. He chose the bright spot above his head, nothing more than a dot for him. It was a glass dome illuminated with blinding white light. He could see a speck of red within, definitely a red coat belonging to a certain adversary of his.

Tails circled the mech, ensuring he reached just the right altitude to steady his aim. Climbing ever up the endless wall of metal until he reached an uncertainly high altitude. He couldn’t tell. All he saw below were thick blue clouds. With both thumbs clamping hard down onto the button to fire, he unleashed two volleys of missiles, They aimed directly at the glass. As he peered closer, he could see Eggman face him, hands busy pressing the buttons below, with a devilish smile. The doctor rubbed his hands together, menacingly.

The missiles whizzed as they hit their target, releasing an orange trail which fizzled out into the black sky like a firework. Tails expected to hear a dozen bangs in quick tandem, and the glass shattering, and then the sounds of an angry doctor cursing him, but all he heard was a dull clunk. Like he just hit a metal wall- the metal wall.

But as he observed, the missiles all hit glass. He saw them explode. He saw Eggman instinctively jump to shield himself, like he knew that would get him. Yet the glass didn’t shatter. He didn’t even see a crack form within.

“Aw, come on! That totally got him!” he whined, his eyes widening and hands going clammy. He took a closer look, hoping his eyes deceived him. He wanted to fire another, and slammed his thumb down, same target, same missiles. Yet the Miles Electric flashed red and beeped incessantly. He pressed once more, and nothing.

“That glass must be quadruple, no quintuple insulated! But it looks so thin, how can it be like this?” He noted, scrambling his mind for any explanation but coming out cold. He fired more bullets at anything he could hit, the arm joints holding the cannon up, the bright white lights on the belly of the machine and then the joints holding the wings up. All were huge targets, and he would hit them. Although the surge of the mech generated turbulent winds as it bombarded him, Tails took account of that. His adjustments to the trajectory, even if it didn’t hit the critical point, would hit something at least. His brows knitted together as he made orbit after orbit trying to hit just the right weak point, but none of it was weak. This mech was impossibly strong .

“You thought that was enough to take down the Egg Dragoon ? Better luck next time, fox boy!” Eggman guffawed mockingly, over the loudspeaker. The air crackled and boomed around him. He descended into maniacal laughter, which was drowned out by the patter of bullets. The cannon spun clockwise, picking up speed until it practically didn’t move at all. It tinted orange at the ends, and sizzled with grey smoke, yet it kept on firing.

“That’s it! I just have to tire him out!” He exclaimed snappily with enthusiastic vigour. “If he keeps on shooting, the mech’ll overheat! That’s gotta be it!” 

He would make a few more orbits around, adjusting the height and zig zagging just to keep him guessing his next move. The plane felt so impossibly small, like a buzzing fly on a hot day. The mech spun too, with Eggman never keeping his back to the fox at any one time. Eggman somehow never lost sight of him. The cannon arm would jut outward to swat him away if he got too close, but Tails knew when to keep his distance. Tails was dizzy, his head started to spin, with the piercing lights of the mech boring deep within his eye sockets. He was certain the doctor felt the same discomfort. Yet the mech’s bullets were unrelenting. A few scraped past the sides of his plane, making a horrific screech and spitting out sparks. 

The end of the cannon tinged a bright red. He could feel the heat brush past him when he got too close, and smell the thick black smoke that puffed out. Yet it still kept firing. Tails felt a little smile preemptively creep onto his face, knowing that it wouldn’t be too many bullets later until it would blow.

Tails took it as a sign to fly a little further away and keep his distance. What distance was far enough- and how far he even went- was a complete mystery. What seemed like a few yards could have very well been kilometres. The Doctor didn’t pursue, nor did the cannon move from. He could see the crimson glow of the tip of the cannon, as vivid as molten lava, against the black sky. It was just as vibrant as the blue wings behind him that billowed in the wind.

The ground below began to shake and rumble as something unearthed itself, which Tails couldn’t take time to witness lest he be shot at. And with a ‘shing’, something large, metallic and pointy popped out from the shadows, and Tails could barely see it from his position. It was the mech’s right arm, poised and ready to strike at him. 

It was long, silver and pointed directly at him. Launched outwards with a resounding boom, it whooshing against the blow of the wind. He couldn’t tell how big it was, but it was approaching him, fast.

His plane felt sluggish and stubborn to handle now. No matter at what intensity he steered it, the plane felt unresponsive and chugged along at any input. But Eggman’s mech felt just as agile as it was when he first encountered it. Tails struggled to comprehend how such a heavy mech could outclass him like this, but it did intrigue him. He’d love to have asked the Doctor to take a peek at the schematics of the mech, but he was certain he’d refuse. Eggman was his enemy, after all.

Tails managed to duck out of harm’s way as the drill poked out, before retreating back. He’d swerved so far out, as the battered Tornado only recognised broad, sweeping turns of the wheel. Whilst Tails wished to return back up, the plane refused to cooperate. He coughed as black smoke swirled around him, forcing himself to squeeze his irritated eyes shut. The constant drone of the propeller subsided, whilst the beeps of the Miles Electric grew more erratic.

The gunfire, with a slower target, could finally hit its target. And it did, striking the back of the Tornado and clipping the wings. Tails spun his head around to the back of the plane, stupefied. A fire had broken out by the fuel tank. The heavy winds did nothing to stop the spread, pushing the forks of flames out towards the young fox who yelped and recoiled in fear.

And in his momentary lapse in focus, bullets pierced the propeller blades.

“I can’t believe it! I just fixed this last week!” He complained, his voice inaudible against the rush of the wind.

He yanked the Miles Electric out of the dashboard, and scooped it up underneath his arms. It cut out mid beep as the screen and all its warnings faded to black.

With one last jolt of the steering wheel, he brought the plane under short lasting stability and a steady altitude. It could barely keep upright, as the wind knocked it sideways and the forces of gravity longed to bring it down. He hit down hard on the accelerator, with the most force he’d ever applied, with the plane directly facing the cockpit of the mech.

“Sorry old girl.” Tails said wistfully, as he clipped himself out of his safety belt and climbed onto his seat to his feet. Feeling himself topple forward under the pressure, his spinning tails supported him in keeping upright on his feet. And then, he leaped out. Letting go of all control, and all concern. All thoughts dropped all thoughts in his mind like a heavy stone. He’d never do this, he never liked letting go of his creations in such a violent manner. Yet he felt no sadness or regret. A mix of adrenaline, pure fear and probably the lack of oxygen in his brain at that moment made him feel weightless as he soared down to Earth. He felt almost uncaring and apathetic to his surroundings at that moment, no thoughts running through his usually busy mind. One second he blinked, and the plane was on a direct collision course for the mech’s cockpit. The mech sprayed bullets at the burning plane in a desperate attempt to get it to slow its unrelenting path. He could hear Eggman’s mic still plugged in as he yowled and shrieked. The next, he saw an explosion of flames and black smoke.

As he fell, he paid close attention to the mech to where he was landing and almost none to the ground below him. The explosion he witnessed felt so vivid, and he was captivated. The view of his world flipped upside down as he descended on solid ground, smacking down on his side before tumbling down. The luminous sky blurred and swirled before him, with only a buzz in his ears that his mind could grip onto. The ramp he slipped down disappeared underneath him. He picked himself up, dusting off the dirt and debris that coated his fur. Something was definitely broken, but his entire body felt boneless. It didn’t matter.

Several startled townspeople scurried out of their houses, dressed in only their nightgowns and pyjamas, to witness what was going on. Children cried in terror, and their parents shushed them as they begged and pleaded. These glossy eyed adults shouted at their restless, panicking children to be quiet. They were just as terrified themselves. Screams erupted as bangs like thunder shook the very ground he lay on. He scrambled to his feet, squealing at every impact. The families surrounding him cowered with their mouths hidden behind shaking palms, too shocked to even audibly react. People were running backwards en masse now. The mech, with its snakelike metal tail almost as the main street, approached. Tails craned his neck to look up at it, and even then he couldn’t see the cockpit. A giant blockade of red metal stood in his path.

Despite it all, the mech survived, no worse for wear. The white lights tinged and swirled pink. What he did did absolutely nothing on a surface level. Eggman’s mech always carried fatal flaws, some more apparent than others. Tails knew that. Sonic always managed to beat him, no matter how many times the Doctor arose with a new, ‘unbeatable’ creation. Tails reassured himself it would crumble somehow, but even then, his thoughts rang hollow.

Its drills were continuous and the bullets poured down like rain. The bright orange glow tinging the cannon, previously thought by the fox to be a weak spot, didn’t even prove to be a hindrance. Whatever metal this mech was made out of, it didn’t show signs of melting at such an extreme heat at all. As the bullets came ever closer, piercing down into the earth and punching solid homes into the dirt below. The punches were swift, brutal and unrelenting. Nothing suggested the mech lost any power. Select houses were picked, some remained standing while others received the full force of Eggman’s wrath.

“Citizens of Emerald Beach! This area is to be evacuated, under the orders of the great Doctor Eggman! Please evacuate to the beach area as I demolish your homes. Do not attempt to resist.” he said, in an earnest and sickeningly reassuring voice, amidst the loudspeakers’ screeches. He sounded as if he was reading a PSA straight off a cue card. His calm voice did nothing to help the terrified locals, except give them a name to curse as they hurried along the street to ‘safety’.

Going back to his workshop would be tough, but he had to push onwards and try. Grabbing his tools, switching out the Miles Electric and taking a few important belongings as keepsakes was of vital importance. He knew where he was, the layout streets around him being as familiar to him as the back of his hand. Even with some paths destroyed in their entirety and some blocked by a gigantic mech it proved challenging. Tails hovered above the crowd like a drone, pushing past the tide as they descended in droves. They all had nowhere to go but to be pushed towards the ocean front, like Eggman wanted. Eggman was sweeping everyone along his path with threats of total annihilation, giving them nowhere left to run. It wasn’t safe, it was all part of some carefully crafted scheme by the Doctor. Tails wasn’t going to go along with it, but he couldn’t convince the swathes to reconsider. His voice wasn’t strong enough alone.

Tails didn’t want to look at the destruction, he knew those houses so well. He didn’t want to believe this was real, yet it all unfolded in front of him. He couldn’t help the people stranded outside their homes in a state of limbo- alive but wailing and begging and demanding salvation. Their lives were taken in a short hour. The thatched house he passed almost every day, now a smouldering wreck. The path he’d go on everyday to the market was a festering crack in the ground. The streetlights that once guided his way had cracked in two or been uprooted in its entirety, leaving him to use the meagre light of the Miles Electric as a lamp. A pair of kindly mice that he often passed were hunched over and wailing outside their burning wreck of a house, their cries for help and mercy interspersed by curses.  

In fact, Tails didn’t recall how quickly this all transpired. That time spent in the air felt like everything came to a screeching halt, that he existed for a short period of time in a void. He felt disconnected from the world, like it was only him, the Tornado, the Mech and the mad doctor controlling it. And this was the weight of the world crashing down on him. 

What was new, however, was the mech’s sudden bright red glow. The edges, now allowing Tails to see its full scale, pierced the darkness behind. Bright turquoise wings shifted blood red. Every notch on the drill was lined with his red outline, every bullet turned white hot and was fleetingly wrapped in red glow before exploding below. The mech continued to whirr and screech, with nothing affecting its speed.

He reached higher up the hill to where he lived, further away from all the people yet closer than ever to all the destruction. It was utterly random. On the grid where all the houses were constructed, some houses received no damage. Some were craters, some were on fire, some were being crushed as Eggman’s mech roamed the streets. The tail scraped sweeping lines in the streets, a noticeable black line carved out straight through houses and pavements. The Doctor’s announcement blared out once more with the same sickening intonation, and Tails moved on. His thoughts were overpowered by the raucous symphony of noise that left him restless and breathless. The noise that startled him to attention was far more welcome- at least he could focus what sounds were being produced. Something new resounded each half second, a new house swept over in one fell swoop, whether it be from wind or the crackling of gunfire. And the doctor’s shrill laughter overlaying it all. Tails was frankly exhausted.

The fox watched the mech move once more, intently watching its movements. The red lit drill was held up high, poised and ready to strike. The point was just as sharp as it had been, and glinted against the neon crimson lights illuminating it. Yet it just seized up. Just as the Tornado’s controls did before. It wouldn’t move, despite hovering just above a standing house. He had all the advantages and nobody could stop him. Tails thought his eyes were deceiving him. Was the doctor- normally so impatient- building tension?

As Tails pondered the questions in his mind that ran at a mile a minute, the glow fizzled out. There was no gradual fade, it flickered out all at once, plunging the area into pitch black. The cannon stopped too, with the overheated metal hissing and cooling against the cool night air. It sparked and sizzled.

“What? This can’t be!” The Doctor yelped, the frantic tapping of the control panel picking up on his microphone as he desperately tried to keep his mech under control. Then, he slammed his fist down, hard. “Why is it stopping now ? He’s supposed to be gathering energy in Metropolis! I can’t have used all the power already ?”

“ Energy ?” Tails repeated curiously. The word lingered in his mind, swiftly scratching against his brain. He pondered to himself, revelling in the new quiet. His voice filled the empty spot vacated by Eggman’s mech. “He was using some kind of energy source? And someone was gathering it? ”

Tails’ eyes struggled to stay open as the Mech’s parts creaked and groaned, with the whole unit tipping over face first. It crashed, and it crashed down hard. Eggman screamed and cursed into the mic with the usual ferocity. He’d fallen into a building, Tails was certain. And then the mic cut out, with a long shrill whine taking its place. No satisfying explosion was to be seen or heard.

And all that Emerald Beach was left with was an empty shell of an Eggman mech. Tails was happy to see it go, and pleased the city was free of the menace that was the Doctor, at least for then. Yet to Tails, it just seemed rather anticlimactic. Especially with mentions of an energy source. Whatever Eggman had planned, it wasn’t just the mech. It was something incomprehensibly big. Tails just knew it.

His mission of finding and evacuating his things grew less urgent, and it felt more like an expectation he set upon himself instead of a climactic rescue mission. What really stuck with him were Eggman’s departing words. That was his goal now. He’d find it, and prevent Eggman from getting it. Wherever Sonic was, he’d tell him all about it. They’d uncover the mystery together. In fact, this whole crazy day would be a conversation the hedgehog would be told about as they sat for ice cream for real. 

Tails always liked to look on the bright side of things. When he saw flames envelop a distant shack on a hill, decked out with a garage and a runway, he knew it was his. Yet it didn’t register within him. Tails wrapped his fingers around the straps of his backpack, all that he had left. He stood completely still, feet touching and back straightened with a quizzical, almost innocent looking face. He could have cried and screamed just like that mouse couple. But all he did was stand completely still and just laugh. It wasn’t maniacal like the Doctor’s. It wasn’t self confident and witty like Sonic’s. His laughter was dry. He choked it out with a queasy smile.

He really could go for a mint right now.

Chapter Text

Infinite vividly remembered perching atop a rooftop in Sunset City, observing the clueless and weak Shadow down below. Infinite considered it the perfect time to strike next, whilst the hedgehog stomped around crumbled streets aimlessly in search of ‘answers’. 

Cloning the pen to catch Sonic off guard worked excellently, yet the method was flawed. The object only moved where the hedgehog directed it to. The pen itself had no free will. A more advanced plan was in order. Although he’d never tried cloning himself before, the thought had quickly slipped his mind during training as the next logical step up. After all, by just himself, Infinite had unlimited, unfathomable power.

So, he’d do it. He’d clone himself. The rest of the city would be eradicated by his clone to drive Shadow’s attention away, and he, the real Infinite, would quickly pick off the bat girl. It’d be such a swift strike with such brutal force, which she’d have no chance fighting back against. Upon discovering the bloody scene it would leave the stoic hedgehog reeling in horror, and he’d curse at himself for not being strong enough to save another friend in time. He’d have nobody left, and succumb to despair.

At least, that’s what he envisioned. 

The jackal held his palm to his chest, curling his fingers around the curved edges of the ruby and mentally demanded a clone appear. It was just as before. Upon the first seconds, Infinite felt a strain in his mind like a blinding headache, to which he ignored. It was like something foreign clumped against his mind, latching onto his brain with a cold, slimy grip. It then burrowed deep within, clawing from back to front and pinned itself in place with thin stabs. As he instinctively gripped his forehead, all he felt back was the sturdy metal exterior of his mask. An identical being formulated below him on the street in a haze of fluctuating red cubes, so Infinite shirked away before it could look up and notice him. 

Taking a quick peek below, the clone roamed with an upright posture with all the outward confidence and poise he possessed. Yet it had no direction. It loitered in an alley disobediently, flipping its view from left to right as it poked its head around the corner, confused. Infinite demanded in his mind for the clone to attack the city, barking orders clearly for his mind to imagine and the ruby to process into power. He directed his entire train of thought to this specific demand, clenching his hands tightly into fists until they shook from the intense pressure. Infinite conceptualised the fiery red skies that with crackling flames, swirling black clouds of smoke he’d stand tall against. The charred black houses and ash smothered streets dotting the landscape. With the intent of implanting these vibrant images into its mind, his stare bore deep into the back of the clone’s head. It idly remained, taking cautious steps out into the vast open street. 

It did not listen.

The clone was caught unaware as Shadow stormed over it with no hesitation, gun in hand. The bat girl chased far quicker than anticipated, too close to target without remaining detected. He’d missed the initial opportunity for the plan, but a second unpreferable option was the most viable. He’d make the clone explode, and take her out then and there, with Shadow in full witness.

He mentally let go of the clone, unlatching his mind from all the thoughts and demands he’d engulfed himself in. He felt something substantial rip out of his brain, its tendons abruptly jerking out. The ruby flashed white hot, setting alight all the nerves in his chest. It glowed a vibrant otherworldly red, stunning the hedgehog. The proceeding gunshots that rang out could barely be heard over the loud hiss that rang in the jackal’s ears. 

One scream sounded like his own voice, piercing through the cloudiness in his mind. He latched onto this one spark of clarity. It was clearly calling out to him, begging to be spared from an agonising fate. He’d never heard himself in that much distress before. All he could do was stand there helplessly, as his vision swirled into an unrecognisable blur.

Infinite didn’t know why his mind suddenly refreshed and snapped in place, and his world was engulfed in white. The hot, sticky air of Sunset City had been snapped away and replaced with a cool breeze blowing back in his face. He was in the middle of hurtling through the unmistakable labyrinthine corridors of the Doctor’s base with his legs already in rapid motion. What he was running from or why he was even back there was completely unknown. The gap in his mind between him standing in Sunset City to being in the base was blank, no matter how hard he tried to piece the events together. The vivid debilitating pain that struck him left no traces, to the point where he questioned whether it was all just a dream he could faintly recall. 

Those thoughts of his clone murdering Shadow the Hedgehog and his friend with vivid imagery of Sunset City’s destruction, he couldn’t piece together the truth. It all felt so real. The sweltering heat he felt as stood out against the sun, the tension built up in his muscles from the strain and even the blood that caked his leather boots had vanished, as if he’d been removed from the city for hours. His feet still kept on running, independent from his thoughts and will. This hallway was the same as all the other hallways he’d crossed, with the same chiffon white walls, the same squeaky clean tiled floor, the same low growl from the air conditioning system, the same sterile scent of cleaning product with a vague hint of lemon. Everything was calm. It felt fake.

His alert eye darted either side of him, from one stiflingly narrow wall to the other, but all he could see was the bend at the end of the corridor. Assuming he’d done whatever he needed to behind him, he walked onwards at a controlled pace. What he’d do next was uncertain. The very act of raising his feet to walk felt unnatural to him. The jackal overthought every step to the point of exhaustion. Something invisible maintained his upright form, and nudged him up whenever he wobbled or hesitated. His body physically refused to allow himself to feel anything but powerful.

He’d walk past a door, then another on the other side, and the pattern regularly repeated. All entrances were all bolted shut with a keycard scanner besides each one. Infinite didn’t have one, nor was he instructed on how to use it. Nonetheless, he kept on aimlessly walking. With all paths that branched off illuminated in stark white, he found himself wandering down a staircase. It was the only one left in shadow, as if unused and uncharted by the Doctor. For the first time in years, he clutched onto the rail with both hands as he eased himself downwards, uncomfortably slowly, one step at a time. Just a mere thought was enough to compel his action. Without the Doctor to instruct him and with no short term goal, he had been left to his own devices.

He had to be back here for a reason.

Infinite found himself in a dark underground compound, with thin rectangular slabs the size of him zipping around the area. They were extremely basic robot designs, with only unlabelled buttons and twinkling lights denoting it as such and not as strange furniture. One traversed through the door just as the door retracted into the ceiling. It was the only door in this empty space. Infinite was unsure of what compelled him to head through just before it could close in on him, but he did anyway. The door shut behind him just after his tail swished through the gap, and the security camera that kept its beady gaze on it was unable to stop him. The aperture in the door had completely sealed.

He was in a ward, in front of a singular hospital bed. Lying on top was the blue hedgehog, Sonic, looking no worse for wear. Still with his shoes and gloves, the same ones that he wore when he was pathetically defeated. He lay flat on his back, head rested back on a pillow with his hands clasped together on top of his chest. The heavy steel shackles wrapped around his ankles and wrists strapped him down to the bed and provided adequate protection for when he woke up. His white gloves still had a faded blood stain too stubborn to remove, still in place from their previous encounter. A singular pink tinged wire hooked his arm to a large white box with all manners of twinkling lights and buttons on its interface. It had a screen which rhythmically beeped every second, and stood at the same height as the jackal. He recalled being attached to a similar device, however the hedgehog’s pulse was far more stable than his own.

Sonic slept defenselessly, with no sign of his misshapen leg or the fractured wrist in multiple places. All that damage Infinite did, sapping the colour out of his muzzle and draining the light from his eyes, had been overridden in a matter of days. Sonic had remarkably been reverted to a physically identical state as their first encounter. That brazen smile that masked his doubts was brought down to an unresigating neutral straight line. The machine besides him gurgled and softly rumbled, the only audible sound in the windowless white box of a room he resided in.

Infinite wanted to feel something. As the hedgehog lay in his pathetic idle state, he couldn’t even kill him, despite how little of a challenge it would be once he tore out that pink wire. 

The doctor had magically undone all his progress. For his own reasons, he obviously wanted the hedgehog alive, confined away in an induced slumber. Infinite desired to reduce Sonic back into a bloody mess that fell and squirmed below his feet. But it meant nothing when he wasn’t even awake to feebly beg for mercy or whimper for his useless friends. He wouldn’t question the plans of the Doctor nor disobey him.

Stomping footsteps grew louder. They were so distinct compared to all the idle noises of the hovering robots. His heart skipped a beat.

He wasn’t supposed to be in here. All that realisation dawned upon him in a snap. His eyes darted, pinging across walls, all the while his body froze up. The sole exit was the one he came in through- the same one the Doctor was approaching. With no window or means of escape in sight, he had one option left. He dreaded it with every fibre of his being, he was long past that. It was pathetic, it was humiliating, yet it was the only thing left. Time was ticking.

He had to hide. That was what the first thought that sprang to mind. It called for him to crawl under the gap of the bed, suck in his pride and wait for it all to be over. That was instinct. And with the footsteps looming louder, the Doctor’s tall shadow creeping against the wall, Infinite had no better options. They kept him out of here for a reason.

So, he did it. He scurried underneath the bed, with just millimetres of gap between the tip of his pointed mask and the bottom of the bed. He’d tucked all his white hair and tail cleanly underneath, with no risk of poking out. A splotch of fuschia light illuminated his ceiling above. His hand hastily shot out to smother the ruby with his dark hands. No semblance of anything out of the ordinary, upon first glance. Whatever business Eggman had, Infinite prayed it was menial. The last huff of cool air before it fell painfully silent. 

Infinite was only able to see the bottom of his black shoes through the slit of light. So he remained unmoving, virtually undetectable. Crossing the room once wasn’t enough, with the Doctor flipping the other way to repeat the same wanderings. With him stopping for a second to ponder, Infinite could barely keep his breath contained anymore. His distinct modulation could pick up the faintest of noises, which the designer of his mask would definitely recognise.

A hand reached directly under, pinching at the thick cloth of his scarf. Before Infinite could comprehend, he was dragged out. He attempted to steady himself by placing his hand on the tiles, which could barely grip on without skidding along, until all they could do was feebly trace the floor. Ultimately, all he clung to was the dust that accumulated underneath. He was hoisted up to the Doctor’s eye level, required to stare at him and nothing but him. Suddenly realising how small he was in comparison, clocking in at just about half the height of the Doctor, he just let himself dangle. 

He was holding Infinite up with two fingers, showing no signs of ache or fatigue.

“Rather pathetic attempt at hiding, don’t you think?” he scolded. “Do you take me for an idiot?”

“No, Doctor.” he replied curtly.

Infinite took a cursory glance around at the threadbare room. It had no furniture except the bed and the gurgling box. The rest was an open, empty space.

“I told you to go to Metropolis, and you didn’t listen.”

Infinite’s body froze. He racked his brain for any memory of this conversation. There was nothing. He’d never even heard of Metropolis. He knew it had something to do with that suspiciously large gap in his memories. 

“When did you ask this of me?” he asked sheepishly, voice falling quiet.

“A few hours ago in the computer room.” He simply responded.

“Do you doubt me, Infinite?” he inquired, with a twinge of sincerity. 

“N-no, Doctor.” Infinite’s throat tightened. He couldn’t believe it. He forgot . A considerable task the Doctor expected him to carry out with great skill and efficiency and he couldn’t even remember it.

‘If I recall, you agreed to the task rather enthusiastically.”

Infinite fell into a stunned silence. The inner fabric of his mask felt uncomfortably itchy and hot. He had nothing to respond with, nothing to justify his inactions. There was no frame of reference. 

Eggman yanked him up further by the scruff of the neck, the point of his mask facing directly towards the doctor. He was forced to look into the glossy reflection of his blue tinted glasses, and indirectly back at himself. He averted his eyes, opting for the blank chiffon white wall to the right of him instead. This made the Doctor pull tighter in frustration, rustling him upright. Infinite clutched onto the stretchy fabric of scarf, trying to keep at least a finger’s width of room for himself to breathe. The jackal realised how easily the Doctor could drop him onto the floor at a moment’s notice, as his grip waned.

“You were to act as a diversion for me and the Egg Dragoon.” Eggman continued, deeply staring down at the jackal. Despite seething with anger, his voice was cold and menacing. “And you let me down.”

“I got overwhelmed by the combined defences of Metropolis and Emerald Beach and my assault crumbled. I accounted for everything. But what I didn’t take into account was the failure of a partner I have.”

He shook him harshly, loosening up the strap of his mask and misaligning the crimson tinted visor. All Infinite could do was stand still with all control ripped straight from him, and take whatever the Doctor dished out. He deserved that, if not more.

“I’m s-sorry.” was all he could eak out, barely audible. His arms fell to his side, limp. His voice sounded so shrivelled and pathetic under the constraint.

Eggman dropped him on the floor unceremoniously, leaving him to scramble onto his feet from his crumpled state.

‘You can’t follow a single order. Perhaps the ruby was too much for you to handle.’ Eggman said, combing through his bushy moustache with two pinched fingers. “Maybe Canter would have been a better fit.’

Images flashed in his mind of observing the white dove, Canter, squirm in her cell and her subsequent demise. All the light draining from her eyes and her trembling body collapsing against the bars. The overwhelming pride for that outweighed the Doctor’s scrutiny.

“Canter was weak,'' he said, breathily. He grasped at his collar with a shaky hand he desperately tried to conceal, and stretched it as far out as he could. It did little to alleviate how tight his throat felt. “She couldn’t handle a blast of the ruby without giving into her fears. I simply outclassed her in every way, and her supposed superiority was nothing but a lie. She could not possibly defeat the hedgehog, she couldn’t empty an entire city with such efficiency as me. This power was what I was meant to have all along.”

“Still, Canter could have done that. She was clearing all the tests with remarkable skill until she oh so suddenly had to drop out.” Eggman said accusingly, pacing the room with his hands behind his back. “And would you look at that? You were awfully quick to kill her too.”

“The responsibility of the power proved too frightening for her to contend with.” Infinite snapped back, leaving no time for the Doctor to add on a remark. He smirked. He stood tall on his feet as he crossed his arms. As if to intimidate Sonic with the smug glare of superiority, he cast his head downwards. Sonic was completely still, reactionless.

Eggman raised an eyebrow, before silently nodding to himself. His commanding voice cut through the ambient hums of his machines.

‘I didn’t quite get to clear up the city thanks to your incompetence, but then, now’s your chance to make yourself useful.”

He stared down at the comparatively tiny jackal, who stopped all train of action to unquestioningly face him. “It’s a change of plans. Listen carefully.”

“What is required of me?” Infinite dutifully responded, leaving no time in between. He eagerly looked up to the Doctor, straightening his back.“Raze all of Emerald Beach to the ground.” He held his hand up before Infinite could enthusiastically affirm his statement, halting him on the first syllable.

“But whatever you do- do not destroy the Ocean Palace.” Eggman stated. He slowly over-annunciated his words, making it crystal clear to the jackal. He particularly emphasised the ‘not’.

“Ocean Palace? What of it?” Infinite asked.

“Just some ancient ruins. White walls with red accents, long cave system… You can’t miss it.” His voice turned menacing, with all the light reflecting in his glasses absorbed by the shadow. “I repeat, if you misplace even a single stone in the Ocean Palace there will be severe consequences.”

“Of course, Doctor.” he agreed.

“I won’t be here to help you. Get in, get out and show no mercy.”

He forced himself back onto his feet, brushed off the dust that buried itself in the fur of his leg and pushed his mask back up by the bridge. 

“I need no assistance.”