Work Text:
Just a few more welds. Sigma thinks he can have this part of the new outdoor shelter finished by sundown– there's not much daylight left, but it shouldn't take long. He fetches the welder from his tool compartment and sets to work fusing the metal plates together. The small crowd of Scrapniks that had gathered around watch curiously, a few trying to catch the dancing sparks from Sigma’s welder.
He fails to hear the roll of a wheel through sand over his own work and focus– which he is jolted out of as a hand shakes his shoulder. Head pivoting around, Sigma finds Charles– the island’s Hey-Ho unit– who is pointing frantically towards the shoreline with his drill arm.
“Oh? What is it?” Sigma says, but he's already following Charles down the beach as he stashes his welder back into his toolbox. The crowd of Scrapniks follow, and as they reach the end of the island, Charles points down the dune– to the wreck of a robot laying below.
Laying slouched against the sand is no ordinary Badnik– Sigma recognizes him as Mecha Sonic Mk. II; one of the Doctor’s greatest creations, once upon a time. Some of his quills have been broken off and he’s missing an ear, and…most of his limbs, though an arm lays in the seafoam a short distance away from his battered body.
Sigma quickly descends down the rest of the dune, crouching down beside Mecha Sonic and placing a hand on his head. “Mecha Sonic? Can you hear me?”
Unsurprisingly, there is no response. Sigma slowly, carefully gathers the tattered robot into his arms, cradling him protectively against his chest. Mecha Sonic’s body is barely held together by the wires spilling out of him, and there are parts of him strewn about in the sand.
It's getting dark outside, fast, so the smaller pieces can wait until daylight. Sigma instructs Charles to collect Mecha Sonic’s arm, and they make for the safety of the Death Egg.
He takes Mecha Sonic to his workshop and places him gingerly upon the table. Before he can assess the damage, the copious amounts of sand, seaweed and other debris will have to be cleared, so Sigma fetches a set of brushes from his supplies.
Looking down at the frayed wires and shattered metal of the robotic hedgehog, Sigma knows he has a lot of work ahead of him– but if there’s a chance Mecha Sonic is still alive, Sigma is determined to save him.
> POWER RESTORED
> SYSTEMS REBOOTING …
> PRIMARY POWER CORE: STABLE
> SECONDARY POWER: OFFLINE
> AUDIO PROCESSING: 48%
> VISUAL PROCESSING: 87%
> NEW SOFTWARE DETECTED
> RESTARTING …
Light. A shape of…something, coming into focus. He's awake. He doesn't know how long he's been inactive.
The something appears to be a robot– a creation of the Doctor, Mecha Sonic surmises. He's never seen this model before, but it looks…run down.
But it looks happy , optics arched in joy with its mismatched hands clasped together, pleased.
“Greetings, Mecha Sonic! Welcome to Scrapnik Island! My name is E-117 Sigma! I am glad you are fully functional again.”
Scrap nik…?
E-117 helps him sit up. It's then he realizes how badly he aches, everywhere, and his limbs feel– he looks down at himself and nearly offlines from the shock.
His left leg has been replaced with the sawblade of a Mecha-bu; his right arm that of a Crabmeat claw. He's rusted, all over, and there are cracks and pieces missing from his plating. Where is the Doctor…?
“You were in very bad condition when you washed ashore. But I was able to rebuild you…more or less.” E-117 says. Mecha stares at him for a moment, processing the words over and over in his head.
The Doctor hasn't been able to find him yet. He must have fallen into the ocean when Sky Sanctuary fell, yes– and drifted until he came to be here, where E-117 brought him back online. Here , which appears to be some sort of Eggman base, though it looks…as decrepit as the pair of them.
Mecha points at the fading emblem of the Doctor’s grinning face on the wall. E-117’s head swivels around, and Mecha notices the mirth drop from his optics.
“Eggman has not been here in quite some time,” E-117 says, crouching down next to Mecha, “and hopefully, it shall stay that way. I know this may be hard to process, Mecha Sonic, but you were offline for years before you finally ended up here.”
No . No, this isn't right. He was the Doctor's greatest creation– he had told him so!– Eggman wouldn't abandon him, surely–
“You are a tool for destruction and conquest no longer. That was the old you. Here, on this island, you will discover the new you. Here, you are safe. You are free. You are home .”
Mecha…did not know what to make of that.
E-117 seems trustworthy enough. And an Eggman base wasn't the worst place to wash up– perhaps there was a homing beacon he could find and active. Yes– this would suffice as home for now.
“Would you like to come and meet the others?”
E-117’s optics had taken on their joyful appearance again. Mecha gives a slow nod, rising to his feet. It takes him a few moments– and a gentle hand on his back– to find his balance with his new leg. He must give credit to E-117’s ingenuity– once he gets the hang of it, the sawblade works perfectly in tandem with the wheel on his original leg.
They make their way through the corridors of the base until they reach sunlight. Outside, a group of Badniks play amongst a metal structure– a makeshift playground, perhaps. They're all pieced together with different parts, like himself, like E-117, but none of them seem to be bothered as they bound excitedly over at the sight of the pair.
“Mecha Sonic, I am pleased to introduce you to the Scrapniks. From ‘scrap’ and ‘Badnik’, of course. I found these fellows still alive within the Death Egg and repaired them to the best of my ability, like I did you. I hope you will find them to be the most pleasant company.”
The Scrapniks chirp and beep in greeting as they gather at Mecha's feet, clamoring over each other in their efforts to see him.
“You'll have to forgive their enthusiasm, Mecha Sonic. It took me quite a while to repair you. They've been waiting to meet you.” E-117 says, and a part of Mecha is…touched. He holds out his hand, and one of the Scrapniks– a Caterkiller with a Coconuts head– grins widely and crawls up his arm and onto his shoulders.
He’ll have the Doctor restore these ones too, Mecha decides; he’ll make everything alright. It's just a matter of time.
Time passes.
Eggman never comes.
Mecha has tried all he can. The Death Egg’s communications systems have been silent for a long time, and he doesn't have the know-how to get them back online. Sigma might, but Mecha knows he’s concerned with other things– and loath to bring the Doctor to their island. It's…fine.
Mecha is happy, despite that.
He spends most of his time with Sigma, assisting the E-series ‘bot with his many projects. There's the outdoor shelters to be built outside, repairs to be made to the Egg Carrier, maintenance to be performed on the Scrapniks; not to mention Sigma’s attempts to shut down the Death Egg’s malfunctioning climate disruptor. There is always work, and Sigma never seems to rest– Mecha knows the E-100 line has some sort of self-repair function and advanced power source, but he also knows Sigma works hard to give them the best life he can.
Perhaps they have no need of the Doctor after all.
“Mecha, would you hand me the bolt cutters, please?”
Mecha nods, handing Sigma the appropriate tool. They're trying to fix the climate disruptor again– a particularly nasty storm produced by the haywire device had ripped their construction progress outside right out of the ground and sent sand over everything in a thick blanket.
Sigma had already tried on multiple occasions to reprogram the device, to no avail– it wanted an access code that only the Doctor had, and any attempts to circumvent this measure had failed. Brute force hadn’t worked, either– Mecha had tried to slice through the machine with a spindash, and a blow from Mecha Knuckles’s wrecking ball arm wasn't enough to totally shut it down.
It was time for…Plan G, at this point– cut the power to the part of the Death Egg the disruptor was in entirely.
The bolt cutters weren't the ideal tool for severing thick, tightly woven power cables, but it's the best they have. Sigma starts to snip through the fine mesh, and Mecha wishes his sawblade foot was still sharp.
Dusk is falling by the time the first of many cables has been hacked through. The changing colors of the sky are Mecha's favorite, so he stops to watch out the broken facade of the Death Egg as the sun starts to slip below the horizon. Something else draws his attention, though, sitting on the shore– a single organic flower, yellow petals stretched upwards towards the last of the light. He's clambering down towards it before he can even wonder why .
“Mecha, would you mind taking these while I– hm?” Sigma says, head swiveling around just in time to watch Mecha jump out the ‘window’.
“Gears and starters…” Sigma mumbles, dropping the cutters and hastily applying electrical tape to the ends of the sparking wires before following Mecha outside.
The tide rolls gently over the flower, though with what little Mecha knows about organic life, the saltwater can't be good for it. He gently picks it up out of the surf, cradling the sodden petals in his palm.
“A sunflower…? How odd.” Sigma remarks, switching down his monocle for a closer look. “There aren't any other land masses close to here…”
It's special, then. A survivor, like them, and far from home. He’ll look after it until they can leave the island, he decides.
He plants it in an old item capsule to keep it safe and places it in a warm, bright spot within the Death Egg where a ray of sun spills in through the broken roof. When it rains, he collects the fresh water– and soon, the sunflower has perked up, new leaves starting to grow at the base of its stem.
Mecha has never felt more proud.