Chapter Text
Shadow knew what he had to do when he saw Sonic barreling toward the Paradox Prism- he had to stop him. He didn’t quite know what breaking the paradox prism before Eggman could get to it would do, exactly. Still, he knew if Sonic was involved, it meant something was likely about to go terribly wrong so that Sonic could go on some major journey to fix what he had caused in the first place and be hailed as a hero, yet again.
Well, Shadow wasn’t going to let that happen. Not this time. He had used his chaos emerald to warp himself in front of Sonic with Chaos Control, bracing himself for impact so he could hopefully stop the other hedgehog from making this mistake and running straight back into that cycle. He had felt the other hedgehog crash into him, felt his own back slamming into the paradox prism, felt the sharp edges scraping painfully up his spine, and then…
What?
Shadow wasn’t sure. At first, it was just darkness. Without thought or feeling, without needing to think of anything. Peaceful darkness, just like sleep. And then he had been falling, the wind that felt heavier and dirtier than normal clouding up his lungs and rushing past his ears and running through his fur and then pain shooting through him, so much pain as he landed on some stupid flowers, and then his eyes drifting shut again as he passed out from the pain.
Speaking of which, now that he was back to even partial consciousness, his body was aching and he was sure that his arm was broken from the fall. Everything hurt so much that he almost didn’t want to open his eyes, but something shook him to wakefulness. They were the small, familiar paws of Sonic’s younger brother, Tails the Fox, which meant that something was probably going on that demanded his immediate attention because Tails hated Shadow, and for good reason too.
His eyes shot open and he sat up, almost slamming his skull into Tails’ before the fox kit jumped back. He let out a hiss, turning his glare on them, blue eyes meeting his red ones. “What on Mobius could you possibly want, Tails?” he snapped, his tail lashing behind him. Normally, he would’ve expected the fox kit’s expression to sour, and then he would start explaining what exactly was going on and why the hell he had woken Shadow up because it had to be serious as Tails wanted nothing to do with Shadow.
His first clue that something was wrong was the outright stormy expression that came across the fox’s face. His second clue was the sharp metal tail that suddenly pressed up against his neck, threatening with an aura of danger pouring off of it. Tails had never actually been dangerous before. Maybe he had misjudged this situation. Maybe this wasn’t Tails at all.
“The name is Nine.” He snarled, his blue eyes narrowed and genuinely both spiteful and full of rage, two things that he had never quite seen Tails express. “You would do well to remember it, instead of that stupid nickname.” His twin tails lashed behind him, his seven mechanical ones all poised for a fight if the need arose. His ears were held back, a sign of aggression in foxes. He had to handle this situation delicately, especially with the fact that the mechanical tail at his throat could easily slit it with one wrong move from either of them.
“Alright… Nine.” he said, trying the name out in his mouth. It felt odd and new, but not unpleasant. “When’d you get those tails?” He gestured towards the mechanical tails with a flick of his wrist, his eyes not leaving Nine’s face. His whole body was taut, but there wasn’t much he could do. His back was pressed flat against the dirt and flowers underneath him, his quills unable to raise defensively in his position, never mind the fact that even if they did they wouldn’t currently be any help. The dangerous mechanical appendage was pressed to the front of his throat and not the back, where the spines would actually be helpful, preventing him from getting a nasty cut.
“I made them myself, not that it’s any of your business. Who are you? Why are you here?” He pressed the sharp end of the tail a little further against Shadow's neck, and Shadow couldn’t help but wince as a dribble of blood was coaxed out, dripping down his neck and staining some of the petals of the snowdrop below him a deep emerald. Shadow blinked a few times, his brow furrowing just the slightest bit.
“What do you mean, who am I? I’m Shadow. The ultimate life form? You know me. You hate me.” He said simply. The fox didn’t respond for a couple of seconds, tilting his head quizically at Shadow, as if wracking his brain to attempt to remember him. After several long seconds, he shook his head, a tense frown on his face. He narrowed his eyes even further at Shadow.
“Nope.” he popped his lips at the p sound, dragging it out. “I’ve never so much as laid eyes on you in my life. That doesn’t answer my other, and much more important question. What. Are. You. Doing. Here.” He pressed the metal tail a little further into his neck. “Civilians aren’t allowed to be here- most civilians don’t even know of here- and I know for a fact that you’re not part of the rebellion, because at this point I know everyone in the rebellion, and you’re not one of us. I won’t ask again.”
Shadow knew instinctively that the best option here would be complete and total honesty, no matter how much the truth sounded like complete and utter bullshit. “I would answer that, really I would, but…” Shadow gave the fox kit an awkward smile. “I don’t exactly… know? I don’t even know where I am. I mean, this clearly isn’t Green Hill.” he gestured at the massive, run-down buildings that surrounded them, much bigger than anything on the entire island of Green Hill and clearly man-made. “And this is the first time I’ve ever been here, wherever here is.”
Nine was silent, his body still tense, his face unreadable as he watched Shadow’s face closely, his eyes searching for any hint of dishonesty. He evidently found none, because he slowly moved the metal tail away from his neck. He stood up, and Shadow stood up after him, shaking himself to get the dirt off of his quills. He flexed them. He had no idea how long they had been pinned against his back, but they ached worse than the rest of him and they tingled, which probably meant the blood flow had been cut off from them for a bit.
“I still don’t trust you.” the orange-yellow fox kit hissed, narrowing his eyes at Shadow. “But you’re not lying, and you pretty clearly need help. Rebel would want me to help you, and she’ll be pissed if she finds out I didn’t and it comes back to bite the rebellion in the ass.” Nine tapped his foot as he thought. Shadow could recognize the expression on his face… whoever this was was at least related to Tails in some manner, as they looked functionally identical and even had some of the same habits, though Tails was a lot less… aggressive.
“What do you mean by I ‘pretty clearly’ need help? Do I look disheveled in some manner?” Shadow brushed over his spines again, flattening the quills so he would look a bit more presentable. They still felt like a mess, but they were at least a little bit better. He hated the way they felt, stray quills sticking out. He was usually perfectly groomed. He was usually perfect . He had to be perfect- he was the ultimate life form, after all. Plus, his quills felt oddly warm and wet. He assumed it was the dampness of the ground below them, but the wetness also felt oddly thick.
Nine seemed… unamused, at best. “Because,” Nine reached up and touched the top of Shadow's skull, and Shadow almost lost his composure and jerked back. Almost. Nine pulled his hand back after a second, and it came back a deep emerald that dripped off his hand to mix with the brown soil below, darkening it. “You’re bleeding out of a bad gash on your head, Mr Ultimate Life Form.” Nine rolled his eyes. “At least, I assume this is blood because it’s definitely coming from that gash, though it's not the usual color of blood.” Nine shook his hand out with a disgusted expression, dots of green splattering on the walls and Shadow’s fur, along with the flowers underneath him.
What the…. Huh. Maybe he did need medical attention after all, any wound centered around the head was dangerous. He rarely needed medical attention, because he was the ultimate life form- it was kind of hard to wound him in a way that he found would need medical attention because he was simply better than most others. Less things tended to phase you when you were immortal and a lot more durable than most. But not invulnerable- he had to remember that. He could still die, if he really, really wanted to, or got blown up in a missile strike, or something of the sort.
“If I’m bleeding, it must’ve been a particularly nasty fall. My flesh is much more durable than the flesh of your average mobian.” That would also explain why his spine felt out of place and why jolts of pain shot up his body if he so much as shifted the slightest amount. Nine scoffed, narrowing his eyes at him. His twin tails lashed behind him angrily, but not dangerously. After a moment, the seven mechanical tails closed around his tails, making them look like one tail. That was… interesting.
“I don’t like you.” Shadow almost laughed. One more similarity Tails and this ‘Nine’ character had, although Tails was never as brave about not liking Shadow. It was just written across his face. He never said it out loud like this one did… somehow, he found himself liking this one better than Tails. Sonic would probably be really upset at that- not that it mattered to Shadow. At all. Sonic didn’t matter to Shadow. He didn’t! “But I suppose that doesn’t matter in the grand scheme of things. If you could survive a fall from that roof you are more durable than most, meaning you could be a valuable asset to the rebellion.”
“The rebellion?” Shadow's ears perked in interest at that, his eyes widening a little. Now that was interesting. A rebellion. Did some terrible villain win, in this future? Or… wherever. Was there a horrible dictator that needed toppling? He couldn’t help but believe that this was Sonic’s fault, somehow. Sonic was quite the annoying, troublesome hedgehog. He had a way of worming his way into everything. And the worst thing was, he didn’t even have bad intentions, so it wasn’t like Shadow could just beat him up to get him to stop. Then he would be the villain! It was terribly frustrating. He was sure that killing Sonic would solve all their problems eventually, but he couldn’t do it because nobody else would see it that way. Not to mention the fact that he didn’t really think of it that way, though he would never admit that even to himself. “What’s the rebellion?”
Nine just glared at him in return. “Have you never even heard of New Yoke? How do you not know about the rebellion? Everyone knows about the rebellion!” Nine took a deep breath, turning away from him. “It doesn’t matter, anyway. Follow me. I’ll take you to a place you can get fixed up.” His tails stirred up a bit of dust coming off the mostly dry and cracked soil. Shadow glanced back at the patch of soil he had landed in. The soil was darker and richer than the rest, mostly with his blood, the blood tinting the ground a gross greenish-brown. He shuddered in visible disgust and turned away. He had always hated the sight of his own blood.
“Mm.” Shadow let out an agreeable noise as his only response. He had always been a quiet and serious man, and he didn’t need to say anything more. Along with that fact, he doubted Nine would like it if he said anything more- he seemed like the kind of fox who enjoyed silence a lot more than Sonic, or honestly, most of the people he knew who weren’t Shadow himself. Nine didn’t respond as he guided him through the streets of the city, through alleyways, dodging the gaze of what he could only assume were badniks, which were equal parts terrifyingly advanced as they were terribly designed.
They looked like brightly colored clunky beasts and would be terrible for stealth. I mean, they were orange- what big things in nature were orange? But he supposed it didn’t matter much here. There was no real need for stealth when you were already in control, and it was clear that these beings were under the employ of whoever was in control here. Whilst stealth didn’t matter here for them, it did matter here for him and Nine if how the kit was acting was any indication.
It didn’t take long for them to arrive where Nine was taking him. They slipped through the doorway of the seemingly abandoned building, Nine leading Shadow. The door was missing, and it had Eggman’s violently ugly mug on the side of the building like most of them, leaving no question as to who was in charge in this city. How had that even happened? Why hadn’t Sonic stopped it? He knew Sonic was fully capable of stopping it, with or without Shadow. The one thing he could appreciate about Sonic was how he always managed to clean up the messes he made in the end, even though it was so frustrating that he was seen as a hero because 9/10 times it was at least partially his fault that the emergency he stopped happened in the first place.
The room was sparsely decorated and run down. There were cobwebs across the walls and ceiling, and Shadow’s quills almost got caught in them at least three times in the few steps it had taken to get in here. It was small and clearly not meant for more than four average-sized people to be in there at the same time. Nine made a beeline for an old carpet with a stain he really didn’t want to think about any possible reasons for and lifted it up, revealing a trapdoor that blended into the floor. Shadow had to squint to see it. The fox kit opened the trapdoor and slipped inside, down some dimly lit stairs, and Shadow followed him.
He didn’t speak. There were no words that needed to be spoken. Nine was showing him where this rebellion was based so the rebellion could figure out what they wanted to do with him because he very clearly didn’t belong here. He was from Green Hill, not New Yoke, and had never even heard of New Yoke before in his life. Shadow was an experienced man who had gone through many tragedies, but in New Yoke he was comparatively softer than the residents, though he had immense strength as the ultimate life form. He could either be a major liability or a great asset, depending on where he fell on the political spectrum- he was sure that was what the little fox was thinking.
The hallway and staircase that appeared behind were a dark gray, lit up by flickering lights. The lights seemed pretty cheap, but he doubted the rebellion could exactly afford better, even as the mechanically white color stung his eyes. He knew he was more than out of his depth here, and he had no clue what was going on- he doubted he could get through this problem with his brains or fists alone.
They stepped into the rebel's hideout. It was a large, white, circular room with a coconut tree in the middle. He raised his hand to cover his face as his eyes adjusted to the light, squinting to see them. Rouge and Knuckles- or people that look like them, anyway. He registered almost immediately. He stepped further into the room and inclined his head towards them respectfully.
“Who’s this? Who’d you bring back, Nine?” The bat that looked like Rouge narrowed her eyes at Shadow. “And why’d you bring him back? He doesn’t even look like he’s from New Yoke, where did you even find this guy?” She crossed her arms, a light frown dancing across her features. She paced closer to him. “He does seem to have a lot of muscle, but you don’t usually take random people off the street just because they’re strong, unlike someone else here.” She flicked her eyes to the echidna that looked like Knuckles. He realized, almost absent-mindedly, that Knuckles would probably be excited to find out there were other echidnas left in the world. Or maybe this was one of Knuckles’ descendants?
“His name is Shadow. He doesn’t seem to be from around here and he claims to not know how he got here. He also claims to be the ‘ultimate life form’, and he’s really durable. He survived a fall from a building in the abandoned district, and you know how high up most of those buildings are. He’s also really weird. He bleeds green. ” Nine shuddered. “I think he’s interested in joining the rebellion, or at least hearing about it.”
“You think? Gaia, por favor sálvame, estoy rodeada de idiotas! ” She grumbled for a few moments before she took a breath. She turned to Shadow and extended a hand to him. “Nice to meet you. I’m Rebel, and this is Knucks. I trust Nine has already told you his name?” her eyes slid over to Nine, who rolled his eyes almost into the back of his skull in response to her stare.
Shadow took a breath and forced a tight smile onto his face. He reached out and clasped her hand in his own. “Yeah, he has. And he’s right- I am interested in hearing about and maybe joining the rebellion. I just need to find out what- and who - you plan to fight against. Once I know what I’m getting into, I’m sure I’d be more than happy to help you free yourself. That’s my job as the ultimate life form, after all.”
That was what Maria had made him promise, after all.
The first thing he noticed was that he was wet- he was covered in some kind of disgusting slime. It was everywhere. It was in his lungs, in his nose, and he couldn't breathe. It was a startling first experience, he had to say. The second thing he noticed was that he was falling, and the floor he had just registered was even in front of him was rushing up to meet him. Instinctively and immediately, he put his arms out to stop his fall. He heard the sound of metal scraping against the floor as pain shot through his bones, and he let out a choked and muffled cry.
Slime dribbled out of his nose, ears, and mouth. He coughed and coughed, retching out more slime. It was disgusting and painful- tears streamed down his cheeks and his throat burned as if scrubbed raw. He struggled to open his eyes as he coughed, goopy green slime clinging to his lashes and stretching across his field of view. It dripped its way through his fur, clinging stubbornly to his skin like sticky molasses. The sticky slime glowed, illuminating the purely gray room that surrounded him, keeping him trapped.
He was choking on the slime. He could barely breathe, barely think, but he wanted to live. He had been dead, he was sure of it. He didn’t know why he was sure, but he knew the cold he remembered before this- that was death. Some instinctual part of him was entirely sure of it. He never wanted to experience death again. He grabbed at his throat as he vomited out the last of that terrible, sticky slime, the green mixing with the sickening red of his blood. He felt hollowed from the inside out. He felt so empty as if he was missing something, but he didn’t know what.
He felt dirty. He felt disgusting and oddly violated, and he hated it more than anything. He sat up, scrubbing at his skin to try and get it off of him. His hands were cold and hard, and he had to bite back a scream when he looked down- his arms were a metal that was a sickening shade of red. Why is it sickening? He didn’t know. He couldn't remember. What could he remember? Panic and bile rose in his throat again as he realized he couldn’t remember anything. He couldn’t even remember his own name. He scratched at his skin, feeling blood dribble down his chest as his sharp nails raked over his skin. The pain was the only thing keeping him sane, keeping him stable, maybe even alive. The pain was everything he was.
He glanced up at a repetitive, terribly annoying noise and finally noticed the dark silhouette watching him and clapping their hands together slowly, almost sarcastically. They were watching him through dark tinted glass that seemed extremely thick as if to keep something on the other side of the glass. But what? He asked himself. What could they possibly be trying to keep out? Is it in here with me? His panic rose and he scratched harder at his chest- the parts of it that were fur and flesh, anyway.
They leaned forward and pressed a button on whatever was in front of them. “Good job, boy.” Their agitating voice came through the speakers. It made him feel ill and safe at the same time, and the worst part was that he had no clue why or what was going on or why he couldn’t remember anything. He felt like throwing up again. He probably would’ve if it wasn’t for how empty his stomach was. Other than stomach acid, he wasn’t even sure what he would’ve had left to throw up. “You managed to catch yourself even when you were unprepared for the fall. That shows a great reaction time. I’m almost proud of you.”
An almost sickening, near delirious feeling of pride and joy bubbled up in his chest at the almost-praise. He didn’t know why he felt like this. He didn’t know why this person made him feel so ill, so sick, so hateful, yet so safe at the same time. He couldn’t remember. He couldn’t remember, he couldn’t, he couldn’t- “Stop scratching at yourself, boy. You’re damaging the merchandise.”
His hands automatically dropped to his sides. He quickly found he was unable to bring them back up again. His breathing was quick and hard, but it still felt like no breath was coming into his lungs. He felt sick. This man was making him feel sick to his stomach. It felt like he couldn’t breathe. “Where am I? Who are you? Why can’t I remember anything?” His claws dug into the floor underneath him as his body shook and shuddered.
The person on the other side was silent for a moment as they leaned forward. They tilted their head as if in thought, and he could feel the grin stretched across their face even though he couldn’t see it. It made him feel sick. “You can’t remember anything? Dear boy, those rebels really must’ve done a number on you, didn’t they? I thought you would at least be able to remember me.”
Dear boy! Crooned something inside of him, prideful. He called me his dear boy! It made him happy and sick at the same time. His emotions seemed to conflict with each other directly, and he didn’t know why why why why why- “Rebels?” He forced himself to ask, instead of any of his other questions. “What- what rebels? What’s going on?” He felt like he was going mad. He wanted to scratch again, wanted his skin to peel away beneath his fingers until he reached muscle. He wanted that delicious pain, wanted to stop thinking.
“Calm down, boy. You’ll have to be re-taught so much.” He clicked his tongue disapprovingly, and he felt his heart sink. He’s disappointed in me. It’s all my fault. “But there’s nothing you can’t be taught when you want to learn, you’ve already proven that. And you’ll want to learn it for me, right?” His grin widened and sharpened- he could feel their eyes on him, peeling down all his layers and laying his soul bare before him. “You’ll want to make me so very proud.” He crowed.
He nodded. He knew that, at least. He wanted the other to be proud of him. He wanted to make him proud, didn’t he? He did, but at the same time the thought of making him proud made him feel like he was going to be sick. Why was that? He didn’t know. He had no clue. He wanted to keep listening to their voice. He wanted them to keep talking. He wanted himself to stop thinking. “Yes, I want to make you proud.” He nodded again.
“Good. You should. I saved you, after all- I brought you back from the dead after those nasty rebels tore your heart out. I had to turn you mechanical to do it, but eventually, I’m sure you’ll agree it was more than worth it, my dear boy.” They stepped away from the window, their silhouette disappearing. Panic rose up once again and he felt like throwing up. He felt so very sick and empty, hollowed from the inside out.
“Where did you go?” he called. “Don't go! I don’t want to be alone here!” His voice was choked and panicked, and he could feel bile made from stomach acid rising in his throat once again. “P-Please!” He felt so so so so so so so so sick and empty and empty and empty and he didn’t want to be alone and he was scared, no no no no- “ Doctor?!” He didn’t know why it felt so right to call him that, but it did. It only made him feel more sick, though. He didn’t like it. He hated it.
“Don’t worry, boy.” A wall slid to the side to reveal a hallway, and the doctor stepped into the light from the glowing goo. He felt impossibly sicker and empty. “I was just coming to see you. Don’t worry- you’re safe now. For I am here. And I make you feel safe, right?” He bobbed his head. It was true. He did feel safer now that the doctor was here, and he had no doubt that he would protect him- but still, somehow… the thought brought on another bout of nausea and he gagged.
“Yes- yes. You make me feel safe, doctor.” He said. He couldn’t bring himself to look at the doctor. If he did, he thought he might throw up again. Instead, he just studied his shoes. They were black boots that seemed to blend into his pants with a really odd design. A dark gray color. Gray was nice. It wasn’t red. Why didn’t he like red? He didn’t remember. It might be because it was the color of blood. He made him feel safe and sick at the same time. Was he losing his mind?
“Good. I’m glad. It makes sense. It’s good you feel safe with me. I’ve always protected you, after all. I raised you, almost.” He could feel his eyes boring into the back of his skull. Wait, he realized suddenly as he glanced up at the thick tinted glass. Was that to keep me out? Why? I’m good! But he didn’t ask why. He didn’t want the doctor to be disappointed in him. Another bout of nausea hit him, intense and sudden, gone as quickly as it appeared. He felt disgusting and empty. “Once you recover, I’ll have to train you in battle again.” he sighed. “Though you should’ve retained most of your skills. Ah- you will still fight for me, right?”
He didn’t know what he was, but he wasn’t an idiot. That wasn’t really a question. “Fight for you?” he couldn’t stop himself from asking anyway. “Against what? Or who? Who would fight against you, doctor?” He had no clue what kind of person would fight against him. The doctor made him feel safe. Cared for. But still so very, very ill. He wasn’t sure whether he hated him or loved him, whether he wanted him to be proud of him or he was disgusted by the idea. He felt like he was tearing apart at the seams as if there was nothing inside of him keeping him together.
“The rebellion, of course- the same cruel people who killed you when you were helpless, and they easily could’ve just taken you and restrained you so you wouldn’t be a threat.” He could almost feel the cruel grin that was surely stretched the doctor's face, and it sent a shiver down his spine- his cruelty was thrilling as much as it was terrifying. “They hurt you, manipulated you, and took you from me. But you’re back now. You’re safe.”
“If I’m safe, then why do I feel so empty and sick?” He questioned, another tear dribbling down his cheek, the fur already wet from his breakdown earlier. Nausea ravaged his insides, and his throat felt scratchy and empty, and he wanted more pain to ground him. He dug his claws into the ground, making grooves in the solid concrete. He felt so very, very cold . He was also grateful to the doctor for bringing him back to life. He would do anything for the doctor. He was entirely loyal to him- that was something he knew instinctively. He was loyal in a way that he was sure wouldn’t fade or falter, no matter how much he wanted it to.
“It’s because of the rebellion and what they did to you.” The doctor said easily. That made sense. It sounded right. But it also sounded so very wrong at the same time, like cockroaches crawling over his skin. He raised his hands and tugged at his fur, more tears streaming down his face. Pain twinged as the fur pulled away from his skin before snapping back into place, grounding him on the earth.
“But don’t worry, my boy. You’ll be my soldier- and in return, I’ll make you whole again. How’s that sound?” The doctor circled around him like a shark, and he could feel his eyes on him, peeling back all his layers and everything he could ever possibly try and hide. He swallowed, his throat still feeling so hollow and raw. His ears perked and swiveled to follow the doctor as he spoke.
‘G-Good. It sounds- good?” It came out more of a choked-up question than he meant it, so he tried again. “It sounds good.” he still wasn’t sure, but he could trust the doctor- at least, he thought he could. His emotions were all out of wack. His gut was telling him to run, but his mind was telling him to stay. His instincts and emotions were out of sync. He felt like he was losing his mind. He would do anything for the doctor. He would do anything to be whole and complete again.
“Good boy.” His heart lurched into his throat. Even though he wasn’t looking at him, he could feel his smile. The fur on his back prickled as it raised. He felt like he was drowning in a sea, and nothing would ever be able to pull him out. He wondered if he would just keel over and die again. The doctor put a hand on his head, and everything went quiet for a moment as he fluffed up the fur there, not shying away from touching the metallic bits. Then the doctor stepped back.
“Now, take my hand, my soldier. I’ll take you away from this place and help you regain your former power.” He looked up, and he finally saw his sharp grin, the way his mustache was bristled. He could see the reassuring coldness in his eyes. His hand was stretched to him, palm up and inviting, but he knew he didn’t have a choice. He reached out and placed his mechanical hand in the flesh and blood one. I wish I could crush it. Flittered through his mind, but he swatted it away. No, I don’t. What am I thinking? Why would I think that?
“There we go.” The doctor yanked him up to standing suddenly, and blissful pain shot through his shoulder up his spine. His teeth gritted, the spines of his quills raised. “You made the right decision. You’re okay now. For I am here. And I’ll take care of you and lead you just like before.” His head bobbed as he nodded along with what the doctor was saying. “And I’m sure you’ll be much more grateful this time, right?” He knew, instinctively, that that wasn’t a question he was supposed to answer, so he stayed silent for a moment before he asked a question of his own.
“Doctor… what’s my name?” He asked. The fact that he didn’t know so much as his name made him feel even more empty, as if he was missing some part of himself. It bothered him, tugging at the edges of his mind like a bug he just couldn’t get loose from his quills. Everything inside of him felt raw and painful. The doctor watched him for a moment, debating how to respond. He didn’t ask why the pause- someone as stupid as him could never understand the reasons of someone as intelligent as the doctor. Nausea hit him again, and he almost doubled over but he stopped himself. He didn’t want the doctor to be disappointed in him.
The doctor hummed, stroking his mustache. “Your name from now on will be Dagger because you are my dagger. You’ll rip the rebellion apart from it’s core and spill their entrails out all over the pavement. You’ll be my perfect, obedient weapon. ” He felt a sense of pride in those words that made him feel ill. He wondered if the feeling of sickness was coming from his mind or from the goop still clinging to his body that he hated.
“Yes, sir. I don’t need to know my name before this. I am always at your service, doctor.” He bowed low, his head almost touching the ground. “I’ll be whatever you want me to be- whatever makes you proud of me.” The doctor reached out with his other hand, almost entirely eclipsing his head as he almost affectionately rubbed between his ears. Dagger let out a sigh, his shoulders sagging. He looked up at the doctor again, and his heart leaped at seeing the approval in his gaze. I’ll make you proud of me. Just you wait. I’ll repay you for everything you’ve done for me. He was weakened and bedraggled and probably nothing like how he was before… but the doctor still cared for him. That was enough to gain his loyalty forever. It wasn’t like he had anyone else to be loyal to, anyway.
As the doctor led him out of the room, he took in more about the doctor's appearance in the clear light. His eyes were a blue that seemed to bore into his very soul, and he was bald, but wearing a toupee that matched his mustache. He had goggles on the top of his head. But he took notice of something else too- what the doctor was wearing. A long, red coat. He realized, absentmindedly, that that shade of red-
Made him feel sick.
Rusty wasn’t even remotely happy when she saw who Mr. Dr. Eggman was taking out of the building. She dug her claws into her arms, forcing her face to remain impassive and calm. Why was he here? She had gone to such great lengths to get rid of him, he should have been a non-factor at this point! Her tail twitched, wanting to lash, but she didn’t let it. She had to remain cold, calm, and perfect. Maybe then the council would actually appreciate her instead of continuing to bring back this disloyal sniveling rat when he should’ve just been left to rot in death!
Would the council bring her back if she pulled half the shit Swift had? Probably not. It wasn’t fair. Mr. Dr. Eggman had a stupid soft spot for him, even if he hid it. She could see it in the differences between the way he treated Swift and how he treated her. He saw her as disposable. Sure, he went harder on Swift, but that was only because he actually cared whether Swift lived or died. It was pure weakness and foolishness, and she hated it, but it wasn’t like she could do anything about it. Mr. Dr. Eggman was her boss- he could be foolish if he wanted to be.
Swift looked like a wet cat, shivering and squinting. He was covered in some disgusting green goop and bleeding from several shallow wounds on his neck and chest. He looked like he had never been outside before, which she knew just wasn’t true. Her eyes just barely narrowed skeptically as the doctor wrapped an arm around him, warming him up. She decided not to comment on it- she didn’t care if the traitor and idiot was his favorite. It didn’t affect her at all. She didn’t care. She didn’t!
“Rusty, meet Dagger.” The doctor greeted her dismissively. She blinked, surprised. Who? “Dagger, meet Rusty. She’s a cyborg we saved, just like you are.” he ran his hand over Swift-no, Dagger’s head, petting him. “Isn’t that exciting?” She could see the sharpness in his grin- the double-edged sword of his kindness. She doubted Dagger could see it. She doubted anyone could, but especially Dagger. He was a bit of an idiot. Dagger nodded, deciding wisely not to speak.
“Why are you introducing him to me? We’ve already met.” She asked, her tone carefully impassive and mildly curious. The wind on the cliff whistled past her ears, messing up her quills. She glanced down behind her, over the edge of the cliff, and saw city the far below her. Dagger was watching her, and there was something in his eyes that unnerved her. He didn't seem… whole. She didn’t know why that freaked her out so much.
“Poor Dagger here has lost his memory due to what those awful rebels did to him, so I had to reintroduce the two of you so he would know your name.” He inclined his head to Dagger, who blinked at her. He was watching him. His eyebrows were furrowed. Something is bothering him. He’s trying to remember me. She doubted he would. She had done quite the number on him. She had hoped there was no way they would be able to revive him after what she did to him, but of course she could never be that lucky. No, he had to still be salvageable. It had been three years, but he had fucking managed to do it.
“Understandable. Let's get going before more of them show up and repeat the process.” She knew better than to question anything Mr. Dr. Eggman said and put doubt into Dagger's head- she was nowhere near as indispensable as Dagger in the council's eyes. She just had to agree with what he said and ask them what the backstory he had come up with for Dagger was later so they could get their stories straight. She turned around before either of them could respond and stormed off.
“What’s her deal?” She heard Dagger say. She gritted her teeth, her eyebrows furrowing. You’re my deal. She thought, even as Eggman reassured Dagger. You keep coming back, no matter what I arrange to get rid of you. Even that stupid fox wasn’t effective because you just had to go and make me kill you. At this rate, I’ll never have all the power I deserve, and it’s all your fault. Then she took another breath in, and let it out.
I’ll do it. I just need to stay calm, and I’ll succeed. I’ll get you out of the picture again one way or another, and then I’ll get your position as the council’s favorite soldier. No matter what I need to do- no matter who I need to kill. And then I’ll get everything I want and deserve. As she thought that, she allowed a smirk to spread across her face, out of sight of the other two.
Yes- I’ll get exactly what I deserve.