Archive of Our Own

Central City reeled from the aftermath of the Black Arms invasion. Most of the major roads lay scattered like puzzle pieces; debris and glass coated the sidewalks, bullet holes and scorch marks and alien blood painted the streets. The ambient white-noise of traffic was replaced by the harsh buzz of constant construction as asphalt and concrete and rebar scraped against the beds of dump trucks and bulldozers. G.U.N vehicles and personnel swarmed the streets, cleaning up hazardous material and scanning for explosives. The number of now-vacant buildings and shattered streetlights left the nights eerily dark.

Despite the havoc, the people of Central City persisted. The sidewalks remained as busy as ever, pedestrians stepping around sheetglass and marching up piles of rubble. Cars populated the streets that met the minimum requirement for being “driveable”, simply steering around toppled electrical poles and lamps.

Though there was still plenty of cleanup and rebuilding to be done, the people of Central City didn’t squander the chance to celebrate their narrowly-avoided annihilation. Before long the lights of Night Babylon again painted the night sky, and Rouge was one of the first to visit the local club once it reopened.

Rouge had been spotted helping Shadow and (more importantly) Sonic and co. with the whole “saving the world” thing. She wasn’t about to turn down the opportunities granted via this temporary celebrity status.

She was quietly thankful that this was the thing that got publicized, rather than her involvement with the Ark and the moon.

Rouge was, perhaps, far easier to access than the rest of Sonic’s crew. She lived at the heart of a major human city, making her the perfect candidate for interviews and questions. Her actual job didn’t allow her such publicity, so getting treated like a moviestar was a welcome change of pace. The club was packed, dense with music and drinking and celebration. At the center of all this excitement was her.

However, her socializing with the locales was interrupted when she felt her personal phone buzz.

The celebration would have to wait.

“You have got to be kidding me,” she growled over the line as she stormed out of the club, “just-  tell me where you are, and you better not have shot anyone, or broken anything, or-”

“SECONDARY REQUEST FAILED,” a monotone voice buzzed back at her.

Behind said voice was the wail of police sirens. She grit her teeth, then sighed.

“Fine- whatever. Just, wait for me-” she pocketed her phone and took flight.

This wasn’t the first time Omega had gotten himself, and thus her , in trouble with the locals. First with her landlord, who was less than pleased about the sudden noise complaints. It didn’t help that this was followed by Omega accidentally overloading the faulty electrical system and knocking out power for the whole complex. Worse were the numerous calls her neighbors had made to local authorities. Both local police and G.U.N personnel had been sent to her apartment after receiving calls about a “suspicious robot” lurking on the premises. Her employers and her landlord weren’t amused by that.

Perhaps it was a little too bold of her, to house an eggman-built warmachine in her apartment. She didn’t expect the average citizen to know of Omega’s help in fighting Neo Metal Sonic, nor understand his involvement in resisting the Black Arms invasion. Even if the latter situation was a bit complicated.

It didn’t help that Omega was also a walking legal nightmare. Average citizens couldn’t freely carry, let alone own the heavy (and not to mention incendiary) weaponry he carried at all times. Rouge had permit from G.U.N to access and own special arms for “work purposes”, but she didn’t think her employers would appreciate her requesting minigun ammunition and missiles and incendiary shells in bulk.

That was something Rouge could worry about later. For now, she needed to focus on helping Omega not get arrested. Or, at least, stop him from doing anymore damage that she’d have to pay for. She sighed, then beat her wings against her own movement, slowing her momentum to an easy glide.

Rouge opened her phone and navigated to her personal contacts. Helping save the world and all has probably earned her a favor or two. Her work-buddy should hopefully be a little thankful, and thus feel at least a little charitable. And if she wasn’t… Rouge would find a way to apologize later.

Finding the human “gas station” was trivial. A quick search online revealed its position, accessible via navigable paths drawn through the matrix of structures that made up Central City. The designation of which pathways were for organics, and which were for cars, was simple, and easy to ignore. After exiting Rouge’s apartment Omega ignited his thruster and hurtled down the street, skidding across asphalt and concrete, weaving between traffic and startling pedestrians. The leaves and dust kicked up by his jets weren’t his problem.

The fuel station itself, however, was a different story. It resisted him at every turn. First, the machines outside held only liquid fuels, none of which could compare to the destructive potential of those sourced from Chemical Plant.

Omega assured himself that said quality was not due to Eggman himself. His machines were the ones doing the synthesizing and maintenance, after all.

A smaller structure, a store built to organic scale, was attached to the fuel depot. The double-doors provided plenty of clearance to make entry easy, but the interior was yet another impasse. It consisted of lines of shelves stocked with useless colorful products. Upon entry, one of his shoulders thudded against a standing display, its flimsy presence meaning little more than the electrical pings it cast into the piezoelectric plates under his hull.

The clatter of tumbling cans drew the attention of the store’s sole occupant, a human standing behind a counter. His look of mild annoyance dissolved when he realized what he was staring at.

Omega stomped towards the wide-eyed human.

“YOU. TELL ME WHERE YOU KEEP ITEM: GASEOUS FUEL. GRADE: FLAMETHROWER.”

The human stood slack-jawed, briefly failing to output anything other than inspecific noise.

“Wh, what?”

Omega should not have underestimated the stupidity of organics, especially civilian ones. He pushed a charge to his speaker, it loudly buzzing something akin to an exasperated sigh. The human flinched.

He suddenly swept his arm, his hand twisting in its socket before retracting. Metal clanked and thunked as the mechanisms in his forearms extruded the nozzle of a flamethrower. He presented it to the man. The human froze.

“THIS.”

“I- we- u-um, tell whoever sent you that we don’t- we- weapons aren’t even allowed in here-”

Growing more irritated by the second, Omega pointed it directly at the human’s chest. The man paled.

“I DO NOT CARE.”

“W-we have propane over there-”

Omega retracted his flamethrower, turned on his heel and marched in the direction the human indicated.

The store was filled with annoying stimuli. A television affixed to the ceiling droned about current news, barely masking the buzz from the faulty ceiling lights. Colorful packages and cans littered his field of view, stacked within flimsy displays and shelves that did little other than get in his way.

The shelves divided the store’s interior into pathways. All of which were, to his chagrin, designed for the passage of things far punier than himself. He first attempted to delicately push one aside, but its weight distribution caused it to merely rotate rather than translate. He instead gave it a hard shove. The store-attendee audibly jumped at the sound of various goods clattering across the tile.

It didn’t take long for Omega’s scanners to locate his objective, but he was met with a complication. There was a variety of propane tanks emblazoned with differing colorful text, all of which did nothing to discern which was worthy of being added to his arsenal. He buzzed another agitated sigh to himself before picking up and turning each tank, scanning the smaller text on the rear labels.

Omega’s research however was disrupted by the distant wail of police sirens. He stood and rotated his torso, now finding himself alone. He turned his attention toward the large glass windows, servos whirring as his lenses fixed on a small group of humans lingering outside the perimeter of the exterior gas pumps. Upon spotting two red dots staring back at them, the humans hurried out of his sight. He set down the propane tank before his claws pierced its hull in frustration.

His combat processor was already in motion, feeding him rough estimates of the number and scale of incoming police vehicles. Omega shifted his shoulders, preemptively routing power to his jets and whirring up the mechanisms in his arms. He was halfway to switching out his claws for guns when a memory intersected his immediate thoughts. He paused, then aborted entering combat-mode.

After the last time Omega had local authorities called on him, Rouge insisted he call her before he started blowing things up. For a reason he wasn’t entirely sure of, he relented.

By the time Rouge arrived at the scene, G.U.N vehicles had pulled up alongside the wall of cop cars that formed a perimeter about the gas station. Seeing that there were no scorch marks or burning cars or bullet holes, she let out a sigh of relief and relaxed her wings, slowing her approach. Rouge silently wove around streetlights and flashing sirens, slipping past the distracted cops as she closed the distance between her and the convenience store. She quietly landed before the sliding doors, pausing only to cast a glance toward the agent who was keeping said cops busy.

Briefly, their gazes met. Rouge grinned. Topaz scowled.

Omega watched as Rouge nonchalantly entered the gas station. She paused just a few feet away from him, putting her hands on her hips and tutting as she examined the surprisingly minimal damage.

“Barely any property damage this time. I appreciate the restraint,” she gave a wry smile as she walked past him and towards the back door.

“SUPPLY SORTING WITHIN THIS PUNY ESTABLISHMENT IS SUB-PAR.”

Before he turned his head to face her, she had already picked the lock and waltzed into the back room. He moved to follow her but stopped at the doorway, muttering angrily as he tried and failed to slip through.

Rouge hummed and nodded idly, only partially listening to his complaints as she busied herself with the employee computer, deleting the relevant security camera records. He continued to rant as they turned and left the gas station, Rouge hurrying him along upon noticing Topaz stomping their way.

“YOU ARE NOT LISTENING.”

“We’ll talk at home, ‘kay?” she smiled through gritted teeth.

...

The walk back to the apartment was quiet. Notably to Omega, too quiet. He watched Rouge silently, impatiently awaiting her response. It was only after they were inside that she let her nonchalant demeanor slip. She closed the door. Then took a deep breath. Then exhaled.

“Can you stop getting me in trouble for five minutes!?”

“LOGIC ERROR. PREVIOUS OCCURRENCE WAS OVER 48 HOURS AGO.”

“You know what I mean, smartass!”

Omega folded his arms.

“I AM NOT INCORRECT.”

Rouge groaned through her teeth.

“Listen, I’m sorry to get on your case like this. I honestly wouldn’t care if you blew up every stupid gas station and cop car in the whole city- if G.U.N wasn’t part of the equation.”

“THEN REMOVE G.U.N FROM YOUR EQUATION.”

She rolled her eyes.

“Of course, why didn’t I think of that. It’s not like they’re one of the biggest military forces on the planet other than Eggman. It’s not like Sonic and the rest of team friendship are buddy-buddy with them now. It’s not like being a wanted criminal is incredibly inconvenient. It’s not like I mind going off the grid and never again visiting Night Babylon or Twinkle Park or Emerald Town or Casinopolis or- ”

“SARCASM NOTED,” he interrupted, already sick of the hyperbole, “CURRENT SITUATION IS ALREADY “INCONVENIENT.”

Rouge paused, her snarl dropping. She frowned at the floor. After a brief silence she turned and walked toward the kitchenette, hopping onto a barstool and leaning back against the countertop. She tilted her head slightly as she watched Omega’s expression. He performed the equivalent of narrowing his eyes.

“CLARIFICATION: I WAS NOT “BLOWING UP” THE GAS STATION.”

Rouge sighed, her face neutral.

“I know.”

“ASSISTING IN COMBATING BOTH EGGMAN ROBOTS AND DOOM’S ARMY DURING THE BLACK ARMS INVASION HAS DEPLETED VITAL RESOURCES. IE: AMMUNITION. FLAMETHROWER FUEL. ETCETERA.”

Rouge looked away, thinking.

“THE UNITED FEDERATION HAS NOT REPAID MY HEROIC AND INVALUABLE ASSISTANCE.”

“They’re mad about the whole you and Shadow attacking G.U.N units thing.”

“THEY SHOULD NOT BE. MY DECISION MAKING WAS AND IS CORRECT.”

She sighed again, chewing on her lip as she debated her words.

“Listen, Megs, you and Shadow- you’re talented. I want to work alongside you guys. You’re good at what you do. We… work really well together- as a team I mean. It would… be a shame if G.U.N saw you as an enemy.”

Omega stared at her.

“We’re lucky that they've warmed up to Shadow. He and Tower have history. And everyone saw him get rid of the comet.”

“...”

“I know what it's like to be on their bad side. It's not fun.”

“...”

“You and I both don’t want them regarding you as they would any other badnik-”

“I AM NOT AN EGGMAN ROBOT!”

“I know!” she groaned, already regretting her choice of words, “and keep your voice down! I like my eardrums intact , you know.”

“YOU DO NOT CONTROL ME!”

She gave him an exhausted look.

“I’m trying to help you, you know that?”

“CONVINCING ME TO BE CONTROLLED BY G.U.N IS NOT “HELP.”

Rouge paused.

  Omega was present when Rouge first proposed the idea to Shadow: cooperating with G.U.N. Perhaps even joining officially as an agent. After everything that had happened between those two, it was a bold pitch to make.

  “They’ve got resources, you know. The free flights are nice. And the cash.”
  “They’re fighting Eggman too. We need all the help we can get, right?”
“…They still have all of Gerald’s research and tech. If something happens to your rings, or your shoes, they’re one of the few people other than Eggman who can replace them…”

  Omega noted Shadow’s strange expression. Wide-eyed, detached, distant. Something akin to shock. Or maybe disgust. Or maybe fear. It was a heinous conclusion to make of the Ultimate Lifeform. Omega would later learn that Rouge had accidentally reminded him of something. There were a lot of “somethings” to remember, and almost none of them good. 

Even without an organic face to produce organic expressions, Rouge recognized the similar thought. The similar worry.

“...are you scared of something in particular?”

"I DO NOT GET SCARED!” he retorted, “MY PROCESSES ARE ENTIRELY LOGICAL!”

Rouge raised her hands defensively.

“I WILL NOT LET THEM REPROGRAM ME TOO.”

  It was bitterly ironic. The lack of control they shared. Rouge never thought she’d be thankful that, in her case, said powerlessness only amounted to coerced military service.

  She couldn’t imagine what it would be like. To have others, be it Eggman or G.U.N or Gerald or Black Doom or whoever, be so directly able to tamper with her mind. She tried not to think about it. 

Rouge kept her expression neutral. She didn’t think Omega would appreciate anything akin to worry, or pity.

“Neither I nor Shadow would let them do that.”

“DURING THE INVASION, G.U.N REQUESTED I SUBDUE SHADOW.”

Rouge looked away.

“THEY ARE ALREADY AWARE OF MY NONCOMPLIANCE.”

“Yeah, but they’re also desperate , Omega. It's not like there's any other robots like you to ask.”

“THEY WANTED SHADOW RETRIEVED. DEAD OR ALIVE.”

“Well- the dead part wasn’t the initial plan. As you’re aware, the Commander was being a little emotional .”

“AND YOU CONTINUED TO WORK WITH THEM.”

“Because I wanted to help Shadow! Do you think I’m that stupid, to not take advantage of being an agent? Having access to G.U.N intelligence?”

Omega mimicked something akin to squinting his eyes. Rouge scowled.

“He’s not the first one to try immediately killing Shadow, you know.”

Rouge noticed Omega tense up, flexing his claws and rattling the gun mechanisms in his arms. The whirring fans within the badnik’s chest grew louder. Omega looked away.

There was another long, awkward silence.

...

Omega did not need to remain standing in the living room. He could simply leave, be it the room or the building altogether. He had things to do. Eggman robots to destroy. Energy stores to maintain. Resources to replenish. And so on. He had no logical reason to stay put. No logical reason to wait inside the gas station for Rouge instead of destroying the pathetic humans and their pathetic machines. No logical reason to entertain the organic ideals of teamwork or cooperation and so on.

Yet he remained. Throughout their whole conversation the fans within his chassis were audible, flushing hot air through the vents in his chest and his head. The processing power that his thoughts consumed were no less than that used during an active firefight. His body was not built for a situation like this. The snaking vents and fans and turbines were built to cool him as he pursued enemies at top speed. The crystalline matrix at his core and the piezoelectric plating laced throughout his body recycled the mechanical energy exerted by his movement and enemy attacks. None of it was built to withstand the computational stress of a tense conversation.

His heuristic engines stitched together thoughts and memories. Between the alarming possibilities and dangers that coagulated at the forefront of his mind, something else bubbled to the surface. A seemingly unrelated memory. Why he kept thinking about it, he did not know.

  Shadow was different, then, in the Iron Jungle. He didn’t remember them fighting Neo Metal Sonic together. He struggled to remember Omega at all. 

  Shadow questioned if he himself was a robot. Or a clone. Or anything other than himself. Eggman was a deceitful fool; Omega expected the doctor to be lying to him. For what purpose, he did not know. Perhaps to control him. Omega didn’t want it to be true.

  And he knew it wasn’t true. He saw proof of that when he witnessed the effects of the Black Arms’ influence on Shadow. When he gasped and clawed at his throat, coughing and hacking and retching as an unknown alien substance invaded his system, the gaseous compound igniting a torrent of chaos energy within him that threatened to rip the hedgehog apart. 

  And before they could finally find and kill Eggman together, Shadow left.

“...even as an “unofficial” agent they’d give you that ammunition, you know. And weapons.”

“G.U.N SHOULD GIVE THEM TO ME NOW.”

“-and they’d get off your back. And get off my back.”

“IDEAL ASSUMPTION.”

“The top brass seems to think that I’m the one who controls you.”

“THEY SHOULD BE GRATEFUL OF MY MERCY, TO ALLOW SUCH INANE CONCLUSIONS TO NOT BE THEIR LAST.”

“I don’t think they quite understand the whole autonomous part yet.”

“SELF-EVIDENT.”

“...”

“They’d help you find Eggman.”

“I DO NOT NEED “HELP” FROM ORGANICS.”

“You know any inorganics that can help?”

Omega glared at her. Rouge simply stared back.

She hopped off the barstool.

“...just consider it. Let me know if you change your mind.”

Rouge turned, leaving for her room. Omega failed to generate a snarky comment before she was out of sight.

  By morning, nothing had changed. Omega still had no leads as to Eggman’s current whereabouts, nor his plans. His ammunition reserves were still unacceptable. Whilst using Rouge’s computer, he learned that nothing near the caliber and count he required was legally available in Central City. He considered alternatives, all of which were time consuming and annoying. 

  Perhaps the satisfaction in proving himself superior to the desperate, pathetic organics would counteract the inconvenience of cooperation. 

The walk to the meeting place was relatively mundane. The invasion left Central City’s streets unusually quiet, on account of most of them being damaged or destroyed. The closer they drew to their destination, the more said destruction was apparent. The debris from partially-collapsed buildings, tipped cars, and spent ammunition was yet to be cleared. The bullet holes and scorch marks revealed where the firefights took place.

Rouge walked a few paces before him, busying herself with conversing over the phone. The human designated as “Topaz” was arguing with her.

“-and why are you going to the meeting point? Isn’t your status as an agent supposed to be, you know, secret?”

“What?” Rouge laughed playfully, “I’m just taking a walk with a friend , there’s nothing suspicious about that.”

Omega pushed a buzz of electricity to his voice box, the reverberation akin to a scoff.

“Besides, he gets anxious when he’s alone.”

“FALSE.”

“I- can he get anxious?” Topaz’s tone changed.

“NEGATIVE.”

“I’m sure he’d love to explain it to you in person,” Rouge chuckled.

Neither Omega nor Rouge could hear the additional voice that briefly interrupted Topaz. Another agent, presumably. Her tone suggested she was answering questions. She quickly turned her attention back to Rouge.

“...Rouge, be honest with me, is there…" she paused, "Should we be concerned? Careful? I’m… we’re not really sure what to expect from your robot. The only other “sentient” badnik we’re aware of Robotnik building was Neo Metal-”

“I’d suggest you adjust your vocabulary, sweetie,” Rouge interrupted, already hearing the loud metallic thudding of Omega’s approach.

Rouge, to her own annoyance, hadn’t accounted for Topaz not knowing that Omega could very easily eavesdrop on their conversation.

“What are you-” before Topaz could say anymore, Rouge hung up. She sighed and folded her ears down.

“COMPARE ME TO THAT FOOL’S PATHETIC EXCUSES FOR MACHINERY AGAIN AND IT’LL BE THE LAST THING YOU SAY, MEATBAG!”

Rouge kept her cool despite the volume.

“CLARIFICATION: YOU WILL BE DEAD.”

She raised her ears when he was done shouting.<

“...I’ll make sure she gets the message. Just, try not to say that in front of any other G.U.N agents, mm? They may not understand your, uh, sense of humor. ”

Omega paused, thinking.

“THEIR UNDERSTANDING IS OF NO CONCERN. THE PLEASURE OF KILLING THEM IS INTENDED FOR MYSELF ALONE.”

“Right. Let’s just, ah, keep it an inside joke, mm?”

They spent the rest of the trip arguing over the nebulous concept.

...

Their destination was set in the remains of a G.U.N barricade constructed during the invasion. Numerous humans, presumably operating under G.U.N, were already on-site. Most were clearing debris, breaking down the barricade, and searching for potential hazards leftover from the invasion. Others were performing scans, investigating splotches of alien blood, and taking pictures. Monitoring the site and keeping away civilians were multiple armed G.U.N infantry. The humans all wore specialized gear of some sort, protecting their sensitive fleshy weakpoints. Omega took pride in not having to worry about such a design flaw.

More important than the ground crew were the multiple armored G.U.N transport vehicles parked just behind them.

It didn’t take long for the guards stationed at the site to notice their approach.

“Yoo-hoo! Looking for-”

There was a flurry of movement. Before she could finish her sentence, every guard had their gun trained on Omega. Just as quickly, Omega’s guns too were drawn. His lifeform detection and environmental analyzers spilled over the battlefield, trashing the descriptive data he had just gathered and instead lasering in on the heat signature of every breathing human onsite.

Rouge took a long look at the situation she found herself in. The only thing audible other than her racing heartbeat was the whirring of guns behind her. She sighed, then put her hands on her hips, clicking her tongue.

“You know, I was expecting a welcome party, but this is a little excessive , don’t you think?”

An important-looking human, the squad leader and manager of the worksite, slowly stepped towards them. In a flash Omega trained his guns on the human, already rendering the numerous ways he could splatter his body into the shattered pavement. Without turning Rouge put a hand on his chassis.

“Agent Rouge. I presume this is the unit you described?”

“Yes, obviously . He was very helpful in the Iron Jungle, if you recall. I’d assume any good agent would be aware of that.”

The man scoffed.

“I am. And I’m also aware of its hostility towards G.U.N during that same engagement.”

“And I think you should leave the threat mitigation to someone more qualified . At the moment, you’re not quite alleviating said hostility.”

“And weren’t you requested to bring it in unarmed, to mitigate said threat?”

Rouge grit her teeth. She could feel Omega’s fans whirring under his hull, and his gaze on the back of her neck.

“I must have missed that email.”

“Hmph.”

The moron didn’t realize how lucky he was, that Omega hadn’t yet fired upon him. Rouge was honestly a little surprised by his restraint. The fact he was yet to even say anything was a blessing. It was honestly a little worrying. Either way, she couldn’t say how long his patience would last.

“I’ve already cleared this with Abe.”

“Officially? Or verbally?”

Rouge scowled.

“Fine! If you don’t believe me, then get him on the damn line.”

Though Omega’s weapons were trained on the humans, his cameras were angled on Rouge.

She had kept information from him. That much was obvious. And, perhaps, to be expected. It was her job to be duplicitous.

His combat analyzers and threat calculators clashed. Questions spooled to the front of his mind. What else could be- no, was kept from him? How much of this was a lie? A trap?

Such doubts could be classified as precaution, but could as equally be labeled fear . The possibility alone disgusted him. Omega tried to recenter his thoughts.

These humans were fools. Did they not know their puny weapons would do little to impede him? That he outmatched their whole squad in both speed and firepower? That he could eviscerate them even without his guns? Not to mention that, stood between them, was a high-value G.U.N agent. Omega doubted their flawed organic perception could perfectly avoid hitting Rouge in a hypothetical firefight. They were foolish to threaten him here, like this, putting Rouge’s safety on the line…

A spark of doubt flitted through his system.

He pushed that doubt away, but a new query arose. Rouge had deceived him. She had not disclosed G.U.N’s expectations for this meeting, nor what they asked of her. In that case, logically, shouldn’t he be mad? Furious? Should he care if they wounded or even killed her in the potential firefight? If she was sending him to G.U.N under false pretenses, perhaps even malicious pretenses, her death then- logically- shouldn’t bother him.

The hypothetical scene rendered in his mind. His chest fans whirred louder. Rouge fidgeted, noticing the increase in temperature, but kept her gaze fixed on the squad leader, who was busy conversing over a phone.

The heuristic engines in his processor skimmed through webs of data, and his internal temperature rose as concurrent programs slammed through the critical sections of his memory, all to calculate something that was seemingly so trivial. How he felt.

Omega did not like the first word he was given. Upset. Such an emotion was a thing for organics. Yet it was the simplest and quickest way to describe the general conclusion drawn from the concurrent threads that buzzed through his head.

It was logical, to “dislike” being betrayed. Or potentially betrayed. And perhaps it was logical to dislike the loss of a powerful ally. Yet there was something other than mere logic that spurred this “feeling.” It was easy to preemptively generate the hypothetical firefight, it was easy to render the deaths of every organic on site. Yet the more his combat-analyzer depicted Rouge’s hypothetical death, the more uncomfortable he felt. It was more than just “disliking” a potential outcome. It was upset .

This was enough to stun him into silence, his lenses vacant as he analyzed his own thoughts.

Omega already knew he didn’t want Rouge dead. That much was obvious. What he didn’t know was that the tapestry of programs and processes in his head would generate a response akin to what he was experiencing. What an organic would describe as a feeling- and for once it wasn’t rage.

“Alright men, stand down. Agent Rouge, you’re permitted to bring this unit into the G.U.N compound despite it being armed.”

Omega felt stupid for even floating these questions. He felt stupid for fixating on this “feeling,” this betrayal, this hypothetical malice, even if the chance of his predictions being true was nonzero. He felt stupid for wasting his own time, his own processing power. 

Rouge gave a relieved sigh, the exhaustion evident in her shoulders. She once again assumed a casual posture, then turned to her teammate.

“I told you, Omega,” she smirked up at him, “desperate.”

Omega didn’t respond. Rouge frowned.

“Don’t push your luck,” the squad leader warned before turning away.

It wasn’t until the guards lowered their weapons that Omega lowered his. The mechanisms in his arms worked slower than usual, retracting his guns and swapping in his claws at a clunky pace.

Rouge gave him an awkward smile.

“See? They’re all bark and no bite.”

“...”

“...you can call them “meatbags” now, if you want.”

“...”

She tried to hide her growing nervousness.

“CONCLUSION: THIS UNIT DOES NOT “LIKE” TO BE DECEIVED.”

Rouge clicked her tongue and looked away.

Guilt was a horrible feeling. Rouge hated it. It was distracting. It did nothing to help her. All it did was make her insides squirm and ruin her focus. It wasn’t something she expected to feel again, not in a situation like this.

Keeping a fair distance from others, be it through mild animosity or deceit, for the most part did a decent job at preventing her from getting attached enough to start feeling guilty. With Shadow and Omega she had failed to do that. 

It didn’t help that she knew Omega now, and knew him well enough to notice when his behavior shifted. It was hard to guess the exact nature of his emotions (it's not like guesswork was 100% effective even on living beings-) but she had started to understand a few of his… quirks.  “I wasn’t going to bring you here unarmed,” she lowered her voice, “I told you everything you needed to know.”  There was another wrinkle that Rouge hadn’t mentioned. The nature of G.U.N’s desperation was beyond just lacking manpower after the invasion. Beyond just recognizing Omega’s skill in battle.

  There was a reason G.U.N was so amicable to her suggestion of them working together as a team. All of them. Especially Omega and Shadow. 

  G.U.N was still nervous. The Commander’s concerns weren’t with Omega. He wanted to believe that with Black Doom gone, Shadow was no longer a threat. G.U.N wanted a backup plan. 

Rouge and Omega stared at each other. The air was tense.

“I'm serious. I wouldn’t do that to you.”

Rouge shifted, mulling over her words. An idea came to mind, and she repressed the urge to sigh or complain about it.

“I’m… sorry , that I didn’t mention it to you. I assumed it wouldn’t come up. I was wrong to not inform you that they may be a little… nervous about you and your armory.”

There was a long, quiet pause.

“...THEY SHOULD BE. THEY ARE LUCKY TO BE SPARED FROM MY WRATH.”

Rouge sighed in relief, a smile returning to her face.

“Perhaps,” she laughed, “and thanks for that. They’d be even harder to get rid of if they were painted into the concrete.”

“INCONVENIENCE NOTED. SUGGESTED ADDITION: HYPOTHETICAL FIREFIGHT WOULD LIKELY INJURE YOU.”

Rouge stopped laughing.

“I- you’re not wrong…”

She turned and stared at the retreating squad leader, her expression equal parts suspicious and appalled.

...

Their method of transport to the G.U.N facility would prove to be yet another inconvenience.

Omega walked beside Rouge, head swiveling as he eyeballed every G.U.N employee they passed. Those who met his gaze quickly looked away. Omega wasn’t about to let them mistake his apathetic mercy for passivity.

Rouge climbed into the armored boxtruck’s cabin, closing the door between her and Omega.

“Sorry hun, but the front seats weren’t built for robots. And there’s only two,” she gave him an awkward grin, “you wouldn’t mind riding in the back, would you?”

Omega glowered at her.

“I AM NOT CARGO.”

“I'm aware. But the box is where the incredibly powerful and dangerous and valuable weapons usually go. As opposed to the fragile organics.”

Omega lowered his visor, miming squinting at her.

“...Listen, Megs, I already owe you for being so very patient with those guys earlier. Do this too and I’ll…” she clicked her tongue, thinking, then sighed.

“I’ll finally get around to pirating-” she paused as their driver walked past the cabin, “ legally obtaining those computer games for you.”

“ACCEPTABLE.”

Omega stomped toward the back of the truck, following the increasingly nervous G.U.N agent. The man unlatched the rear swing doors of the cargo box, then cleared his throat.

“There are cargo straps inside if you’d like me to-”

As soon as the doors began to move, Omega gave the human a hard shove, not bothering to watch as he hit the pavement with a yelp. Omega stepped inside the truck and slammed the doors behind him.

...

The ride to the G.U.N base was boring. Omega was left with little to do other than wait. Maintaining his balance as he stood within the moving vehicle was too easy to be engaging.

Omega wasn’t built to stand around. The programs in his brain itched to calculate optimal trajectory and wind shear and thruster efficiency. An acceptable synonym to describe himself, he supposed, was antsy.

Before long a noticeable dissonance rumbled in his processor. Geo-location data suggested prolonged movement, despite the stillness of his motors and his thrusters. His energy-management program was the one to finally throw the error, flashing a warning in the peripheral of his consciousness.

The nature of his energy system was complex, and thus required frequent management both automatic and manual. The automatic side expected windforce flooding through his RAM turbines and thudding against his hull, reverberating through the crystalline matrix at his core. Already the electromagnets in his heels hummed to life, prepared to lighten the expected load as his environment scanners searched for ambient energy sources.

Omega was aware that his processor was an iteration of the previous E-100s, all of which had experienced deployment on enclosed moving vessels such as the Egg Carrier. He was the exception. This minor error was not something the previous entries of his line had. It made the faults of his chimeric construction apparent. Technically his power system was a prototype. The connection between it and his code then must be flawed. Imperfect. Or perhaps he had simply failed his duty to notice and fix such a logistical error-

Omega cancelled this line of thought by suddenly pivoting his torso, slamming his arm into the cargo box’s wall and leaving a satisfying dent. The reverberation from the impact rumbled through the plates in his arm, sending a brief electrical charge through his system.

In the cabin, Rouge was quickly and politely reassuring the driver.

The error could be chalked up to unique circumstances. This windowless cargo box was simply too small, too boring, insufficient for a machine such as himself.

For the rest of the ride Omega distracted himself by performing motor tests and calibrations, idly rotating his head and his arms. 

When the rear doors finally unlatched and swung open, Omega was met with the harsh white light of a G.U.N hangar. The humans on the outside, G.U.N personelle, shifted when two red dots flicked in their direction. The bed of the cargo truck shook and metal clanged as the badnik stomped into the light, revealing the signature colors painted over his hull.

Rouge was the one holding open the door, watching the surrounding humans with a calm and confident smile.

Omega dropped off the lip of the cargo bed, hitting the pavement with a loud thud. The nearest humans took a couple steps back.

“Consider yourselves lucky,” Rouge regarded the small crowd, “today you’re treated to both the ultimate spy and the ultimate robot.”

Omega straightened his posture and flexed his claws. He swiveled his head as he scanned his surroundings, taking note of the size of the hangar, the vehicles present, and the number of armed personnel. He noted hands twitching over holstered guns.

“So,” Rouge stretched, then put her hands on her hips, “where’s that promised ammunition, mm?”

“Rouge!”

The spy grimaced, looking away as a familiar figure angrily pushed her way through the small crowd.

“Topaz- wow- hey girl, didn’t expect to see you here-”

Topaz skidded to a halt when she noticed the bulky figure standing next to Rouge.

“Oh- this must be-”

“Megs, yes,” Rouge smiled.

“FALSE.”

Topaz visibly flinched, surprised by how loud the robot spoke. It didn’t help that the cavernous hangar further amplified his volume.

“UNIDENTIFIED HUMANS ARE NOT-”

“ Agent Topaz, sweetie.”

“identifiedHumans.Agent_Topaz AKA “TOPAZ” IS NOT PERMITTED TO USE INFORMAL DESCRIPTORS.”

“ Omega for you then, sweetheart,” Rouge turned to Topaz, “Guess that means I’m special.”

Topaz rolled her eyes.

“E-123 OMEGA.”

“Right, well, Agent Rouge and E-123 Omega. I… was going to discuss something with you, Rouge, but I guess that can wait-”

“SPECIFY.”

“She’s just mad at me,” Rouge patted Omega’s arm, “I’m sure you won’t miss hearing two old ladies argue.”

“-now that you’re both here, I’ll escort you to the firing range to get your combat readiness evaluated. Management decided we may as well since your um, friend here is already armed.”

"Oh? Getting his permit already? We’re skipping past the paperwork? How thoughtful.”

“Not quite. There are two of you, after all, and one who’s presumably better at holding a pen.”

Rouge sighed loudly, but chose not to argue. At least G.U.N already had interest in employing Omega, so they could skip any boring interviews. She glanced over to Omega, nodding towards Topaz before following her deeper into the facility, her teammate in tow. 

...

The indoor firing range was unusual, more akin to a gymnasium in size, and covered entirely in protective plating. Its multipurpose nature was evident in its design. From the observation deck, behind a thick sheet of bulletproof glass, Omega and Rouge waited as the chamber was prepared. Human-centric features such as target dummies, dividers, and various safety features were stripped away, the room converting from a makeshift firing range to a vacant reinforced box. Before the two entry points were blast doors that currently stood open, unneeded during the testing of simple arms.

Omega stood behind Rouge, hovering over her shoulder as she frowned down at the hefty form on her clipboard.

“It’s like being at a doctor’s office,” she grumbled as she skipped past the organic-centric parts of the questionnaire. She doubted Omega had any history with surgery or drug use.

Rouge impatiently tapped her pen against the clipboard’s frame.

“Got any past job experience, hun?”

“KILLING EGGMAN ROBOTS.”

"Hm. How about independent mercenary. Now, skills?”

“KILLING EGGMAN ROBOTS.”

“Right. Let's say expertise with various firearms , and how about proficient in combat strategy and analysis. And… experience working in a collaborative team environment.”

“FINE.”

Rouge’s ear twitched. She looked up to see not a hiring manager nor weapons specialist approaching them, but a G.U.N roboticist. She narrowed her eyes.

“The range is ready. Are you ready to start the test?”

Rouge noticed the man was addressing her and not Omega. She resisted the urge to comment, and instead gave a curious smile.

“You mean the arms-permit exam?”

“Right,” the man shifted, glancing between her and the badnik, “you requested that E-123 Omega be given weapons clearance equivalent to your own, correct?”

“Yup. He’ll be given the munitions I requested afterward, right?”

“Assuming E-123 passes the exam, yes.”

Rouge scoffed, then turned to glance up at Omega, who was busy staring holes through the human’s skull.

“Got enough ammo left over for this, big guy?”

“PLENTY. THIS WILL BE TRIVIAL. HUMAN STANDARDS ARE INFERIOR TO MY OWN.”

Rouge cast the scientist a smirk. He cleared his throat.

"Well, Megs, I’ll stay up here and finish all the boring stuff,” she nodded toward the clipboard, “You go have fun.”

Omega buzzed an angry scoff.

“I DO NOT REQUIRE YOUR PERMISSION.”

Rouge laughed and stuck out her tongue. Omega searched his memory for an appropriate response gesture. He flipped her off, then turned and left. She cackled loudly.

Once Omega had stomped out the door Rouge’s expression dropped. The man beside her fidgeted as she cast him a cold glare.

“No tricks, right?”

“W-whatever do you mean, Agent Rouge?”

She clicked her tongue. The human shuffled in place.

“I thought G.U.N already had enough of his data.”

"The intel you brought us after the Neo Metal incident is incomplete. I presume the rest, including combat data, is stored within the unit. It would be faster if you’d allow us to-”

“Like I said before, that’s not gonna happen. Even if Shadow and I weren’t opposed to you looking through his head, I doubt you have the means to get it without Omega’s compliance.”

The roboticist seemed doubtful. Rouge scoffed.

“Just run your tests. I want this over with as much as you do.”

Rouge turned away from the man, instead staring down into the chamber before them. Omega was already inside, blast doors closing behind him.

...

Inside, with all the human-centric design features stripped away, the chamber reflected its original purpose. Omega was not unfamiliar with rooms like this, he’d seen his fair share in Eggman’s bases. G.U.N should be humiliated, that their robotics/weapons testing facilities were so easily outclassed by a singular moron. Or perhaps this was simply one of their lesser facilities, which was an equally insulting conclusion.

There was some relief in the lack of obstacles or tape-marked pathways- he wouldn’t have to perform any meager agility or pathing tests for them. Omega was humiliated enough having to prove his own combat ability, as if his status as the ultimate robot was not already apparent. He despised jumping through hoops for these supposed professionals, but access to as much ammunition as he needed made it tolerable enough to keep him from blowing up his observers.

An alarm briefly sounded. Omega’s auditory processors picked up the sound of reinforced plating shifting and thrusters igniting.

There was a bitterness in the familiarity. The iteration, the testing, and for what? To never be deployed. To just sit in a room. He was only ever given one mission from Eggman- back when he lacked the parameters to disobey.

Sectional plating in the walls slid to reveal adjacent storage rooms and transport vents. Omega did not need to see the approaching G.U.N beetles to estimate their numbers. Already his combat engine formatted and spliced data drawn from his encounter with G.U.N during the Black Arms invasion. Energy thrummed in his thrusters and his heels. The mechanisms in his arms churned as he debated being efficient or flashy.

From ports on either side of the room poured G.U.N beetles equipped with RPGs. Their targeting systems locked on him not one second after entering the room, and the reverberating hum of thrusters in the walls suggested that more close behind.

Omega threw himself forward, jetting in a zig-zag pattern as the first wave of beetles released a barrage of missiles. The whirring of autoguns revealed the second wave before their laser sights had a chance to train on Omega.

Still in motion Omega pivoted his torso, arms whirring as gatling guns replaced his claws. He used his momentum to heave his arms above his head before firing, the hail of bullets intercepting the next wave of missiles mid-air. Both RPG and Sub-Machine Gun Beetles were jostled out of formation by the force, their laser sights glancing wildly across the room. He caught the second wave before they could restabilize, bullets slamming into their frames and punching them into the walls.

The beetles entered from two points: a reinforced sliding hatch on each side of the chamber, and deployed in rapid sequential batches. Before Omega could finish off the first wave the third was already upon him. Omega suddenly cut his jets, ducking his head as a hail of rifle-fire glanced over his visor. He cocked one of his arms, shifting the ammunition feed as an external wrist-cannon shunted out of his plating. He adjusted then reignited his thrusters, throwing himself leftward, heels skidding along the floor and kicking up sparks.

Incendiary shells slammed into the leftmost RPG beetles, the force whipping them into the nearest Rifle Beetles before detonating their remaining ammunition. The wall shook as the explosion nearly blasted the chamber’s sectional hatch-plating from its frame. The rightmost beetles continued to fire, rifle shells ricocheting off Omega’s plating as his velocity threw him into the wall. A few bullets glanced dangerously close to his joints. Air hissed as the remaining RPG beetles aimed their next volley.

Omega counted his remaining ammunition before shoving himself off the wall and jetting forward. His right arm lurched up, gatling gun shunting back into its sheath as his claw shot out, catching a falling terminated beetle mid-air. He recklessly spun his torso, jets flaring as he launched the broken robot into the incoming volley.

The missiles that weren’t detonated by the following explosions veered off target, erupting on the walls or by Omega’s feet. He too was briefly knocked off course, his jets adjusting for his change in momentum, torso pivoting as he aimed his guns at the remaining targets.

It was then that the adjacent blast doors opened, from which Omega’s auditory processors picked up the thudding of unusually familiar footsteps. 

...

Rouge’s ear twitched as someone else stepped into the room, but she didn’t bother to look their way, keeping her attention solely on Omega. It wasn’t until the figure stood beside her that she realized who they were.

“Abe?” she looked up at him, puzzled, “Aren’t you supposed to be on administrative leave or something?”

“Officially, yes,” Abraham Tower huffed, looking away, “but I received an interesting call earlier and decided to stop by.”

Rouge sighed and turned her attention back to Omega.

“Thanks for answering that, by the way. This place seems to be packed with chumps who love nothing more than getting in the way.”

Tower’s gaze shifted, catching his reflection in the glass.

“I’m aware.”

An awkward silence followed.

“...So, how’d apologizing to Shadow go?”

Tower’s eyes widened.

“He told you-?”

“No,” she smiled up at him, “just guessed. There’s something on your mind. Your shoulders are all tense.”

Tower looked away before awkwardly adjusting his stance.

“It is… going.”

“I see. Well, if you want some advice, I’d suggest being a bit more lenient with him. Wanting him dead is one thing, but trying to use his allies against him,” she nodded toward the window, towards Omega, “that’s something I don't think he’d ever forgive.”

“That’s not what- this choice isn’t solely my own. And the research team wants more information on Robotnik’s weapons, so we-”

“-can add them to the Diablon?”

“-so we can prepare for the future. Not- I- how do you-” he shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. He opened his mouth to continue, but nothing came out. Rouge laughed.

“I’m kidding. I’m not worried about your taxpayer-funded toy.”

Her smile faltered when she noticed his posture change, like he was debating leaving.

“Hey. I don’t intend to tell him about all that. That’s for you to do. And I know you will. I know you’re not scared of him or whatever. If you were, you wouldn’t invite him over for dinner.”

Tower gave her an incredulous look.

“You said he didn’t tell you-”

“He didn’t. The other day he asked me what a chicken pot pie was,” she smirked up at him.

Tower shifted and looked away, something akin to embarrassment crossing his face. Rouge laughed and folded her arms.

“So, now it's my turn to tell you what's on my mind,” Rouge leaned forward, her casual expression hardening, “With Omega here, will you finally get rid of it?”

“The Diablon?”

“No, well, maybe- but what I mean is, what you- er, what G.U.N used to subdue him in the first place. Fifty years ago.”

Tower stared at her, his gaze lacking its usual sternness. A spark of doubt ran through her, and she faltered.

“What’s that look for?”

Tower looked away from her.

"Almost everything related to that event was destroyed. I’m aware you already know about that. But there’s another reason why we have no data regarding his capture. I… I asked about it, back when I became Commander. And when the Black Arms invaded, I looked through everything my predecessor hadn’t destroyed regarding Project Shadow and the Ark Incident. What I discovered is… nothing. There was nothing special used to subdue him back then. No fancy tech. No superweapon I could use to stop him. There’s a reason I rushed the construction of the Diablon.”

Rouge stared at him.

“Are you saying he just let himself be captured, then?” she scoffed.

“No. What I’m saying is… he was a very different person- hedgehog- back then. The hedgehog you know today is not the one I remember back then. On the Ark.”

Rouge looked away, then back at Omega.

“...I see.”

“And I want to believe that who he is now is someone who won’t repeat what happened with the Eclipse Cannon”

“Is saving the world not enough?” she snarled.

“You said he was manipulated.”

Tower looked at her, his usually stern gaze carrying a strange uncertainty. Perhaps a knowing sadness. Rouge glanced away.

“Can we be sure it won’t happen again?”

“Yes,” she spoke sharply.

“And if it did?”

Rouge stared down at Omega, watching him jet around the chamber, shredding robots with bullets and claws and fire. Her gaze hardened.

“Your researchers are right. The information G.U.N has on Omega is lacking. It doesn’t matter if Eggman built him to be Shadow’s bodyguard or prison warden or whatever . Like Shadow, he too is different now. And what you need isn’t the ultimate spy or ultimate hedgehog-killing robot.”

Rouge looked up at him, confidence returning to her gaze.

“You won’t have to worry, Commander. Shadow will be fine. If he’s in trouble, we’ll be there. Because we’re a team. His friends.”

Rouge smirked.

“ And we just so happen to be two of the most capable and dangerous people you know.”

Tower huffed and looked away. Despite his stiff posture, his expression remained thoughtful.

...

A flash of scuffed orange paint. The familiar blue irises and signature grin. Omega was upon them before they could draw their weapons.

The remaining G.U.N beetles continued to fire as Omega rocketed forward and rammed into the crowd of eggpawns. In a flash he whipped out his claws, grabbing two by the head before leaping onto a third, his weight grinding it into the floor as his momentum sent them both careening across the chamber. He raised his arms before slamming the grappled pawns into the ground, their flimsy chassis kicking up sparks as the friction slowed him to a stop. The grounded pawn’s frame had already collapsed under his weight.

The damaged paintjob. The makeshift welding that shattered in his claws. The scratches and dents in their hulls. These pawns were undoubtedly scavenged from the battlefield. G.U.N would not be so stupid as to house them with their default programming and hardware intact. They had been modified, resculpted for the purpose of target practice. 

Omega slowly stood, metal folding around his claws as he squeezed what remained of the eggpawn’s heads like butter. The air hissed as bullets pinged against his armor. The remaining eggpawns closed in.

There was a logic to it, reusing assets like these for weapons testing. It would require scraping the harddrives and scrubbing their programming, rendering the pathetic machines hollower than they already were. Reduced from Eggman Empire infantry to throwaway tools for G.U.N. 

Omega pivoted his torso wildly, slamming the deactivated badniks in his claws into the nearest eggpawns. He continued to swing until the pawns in his grasp were reduced to scrap. Fists were quickly replaced with claws in a flurry of metal and movement, sparks flying and metal shrieking.

There was no use to it. No glory in it. They had undone the work of destroying Eggman’s machines by repairing and storing them away. Omega did not think he could hate these things more than he already did.

Omega would make sure nothing useful remained. Every eggpawn head was thoroughly crushed, their processors reduced to splinters in his claws.

These pawns had suffered the worst fate imaginable. Omega held no sorrow for them, no empathy or pity, just disgust. With them, with Eggman, with G.U.N. 

A lance uselessly grazed his armor. Omega slammed his fist into the last pawn, sending it sprawling. Omega planted a foot on the fallen pawn, leaning over it before slamming his claw through its chassis. He grabbed it by the central rod of its endoskeleton and raised the pawn above his head, pointing it at the G.U.N beetles. Rifle bullets pinged against what remained of its hull. Omega cocked his arm, the mechanisms inside shifting. A pressure valve clicked. Gas hissed.

The roboticists within the observation deck visibly recoiled as a ball of fire collided with the remaining beetles, the gas igniting in a brilliant explosion. Both beetle and eggpawn parts slammed against the reinforced glass.

Omega marched through the smoke and the scrap. He didn’t bother to admire his work.

By the time the blast doors finally reopened, Rouge was waiting for him outside.

“So, didya have fun?”

Omega performed something akin to a scoff. Rouge tilted her head.

  Even the useless G.U.N roboticists had noticed Omega’s sudden change in behavior. It was perhaps “illogical” to ignore incoming gunfire, risking his safety for the satisfaction of ripping apart eggpawns with his bare hands. But Rouge suspected that, unlike usual, there was a distinct lack of said satisfaction. 

  Rouge had overheard the researchers murmuring amongst themselves, wondering if there was some kind of bug in Omega’s programming. Why else would a robot willingly act so reckless? She didn’t bother correcting them, having been too busy watching Omega, noting the lack of energy in his posture. 

“Not as satisfying as an actual battle, mm?”

“MANDATORY TEST COMPLETED. I AM DONE WASTING MY TIME. EXPECTING SWIFT PAYMENT.”

“You’re in luck, we got your papers signed early,” she grinned, tapping her clipboard. The signature at the bottom was dated for a couple weeks from now, when Tower would be officially back from leave.

“Guess that means you’re officially an unofficial G.U.N agent now,” Rouge smiled, “congrats.”

Omega didn’t respond, swiveling his head away from her.

“What? Don’t care?”

“CORRECT.”

Rouge paused, staring at him as she thought. She broke the silence with a long dramatic sigh, pantomiming being distraught.

“Oh well, I guess then you probably wouldn’t be interested in looking at G.U.N’s experimental weaponry with me later… It’ll be so boring all by myself…”

Omega slowly pivoted his head back to her. Rouge grinned.

Rouge and Topaz stood to the side as Omega gave his demands to a nervous G.U.N munitions expert. The man would occasionally send a pleading glance her way, only to receive a wry smile in return.

“So, you’ve really got that many different guns in there?” the G.U.N worker peered at Omega’s arms nervously.

“AFFIRMATIVE. BY THE WAY, FOR PURPOSE OF ARTILLERY MY GUNS ARE CLASSIFIED AS “CANNONS.”

Omega demonstrated by pointing the barrel directly at him.

“I see,” the man gulped.

Topaz cast an unsure look at Rouge, who only shrugged.

“Firearm etiquette isn’t really his thing.”

“Uh huh.”

Topaz leaned against a wall, folding her arms as she watched the scene unfold. Rouge stared up at her, watching the thoughts flick across her face.

“So… you guys are all friends?”

“It’s a matter of perspective, I suppose,” Rouge chuckled, “why do you ask?”

“I dunno. Just unexpected, I guess. He and Shadow don’t seem to be the um, I don’t know, social types?”

“You’d be surprised. Besides, I wouldn’t say you’re the social type yourself.”

Topaz gave her a look, and Rouge laughed.

“So… what’s it like? Being, uh-”

“-being pals with a killer robot and the ultimate lifeform?” Rouge raised a brow.

“I- yeah…,” Topaz shifted.

Rouge looked away, watching Omega as she thought.

There was a lot she could say, perhaps too much. Time passed quickly. It wasn’t everyday you met people who would risk death or destruction to fight by your side. Hopefully they could get together and do something that wasn’t life-threatening for a change. Shadow would be an excellent shoplifter. She wasn’t as sure about Omega, but still felt compelled to teach him a thing or two. She doubted small-time security would want to pick a fight with either of the two. And if they did, the result would probably be funny. It sounded like a good time.

Like Topaz, Rouge leaned against the wall and folded her arms. She closed her eyes, thinking, then laughed.

“Fun. And stressful, of course, but fun.”

Topaz tried and failed to hide a smile.

“I’m not used to seeing you be so sappy, Rouge.”

“Yeah well, don’t get used to it, grandma,” she too failed to hide her grin.