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Two weeks had passed, if his internal clock was to be trusted. The Death Egg was a good place to hide if he kept out of the main halls. He had found an old tarp in an abandoned storage room and cut it up– clumsily– with his new claw, making a cloak to hide his broken down form. He would have been perfectly fine to go it alone like this until the Doctor came for him, but as it stood, his power level was running dangerously low– meaning he would have to show himself around the island’s other inhabitants.
It wasn't that he disliked them– he just burned from shame and discomfort at their perception of his rusted, broken body. He wasn't supposed to look like this– he was supposed to be a sleek and elegant machine, the finest robot in the Doctor’s army.
Mecha looked down at himself. One hand, one claw.
Low power warnings flashed across his eye’s HUD again. Three percent charge until deactivation.
Mecha pulled the hood of his cloak over his head and made for the Death Egg’s residential section.
One percent charge.
He had made it to the charging station, just barely, and paused a moment to lean against the doorframe. His vision spun from the lack of power, and he limited the visual feed to a thin line so he didn't get sick.
“Oh! Mecha Sonic! It is good to see y– are you alright, lad?”
Mecha recognized the voice. It was the E-series robot, Sigma, who rushed over to put a supportive hand on his back.
“Oh dear. Have you recharged at all?” Sigma asked, leading Mecha to the closest charger unit. Mecha shook his head no.
Sigma sighed through his vents. Mecha allowed him to tug his hood down and pull off the panel to the charger port in his head, connecting the power cord to his processor.
“There's a crate behind you. Sit, and make yourself comfortable.”
Mecha sat. So did Sigma.
“You are free to do whatever you please here, Mecha, but you must still take care of yourself. Letting your power run that low with your damaged processor is dangerous.” Sigma said, his optics downturned in a concerned expression.
There was silence for a few moments as Mecha clawed back his thoughts from the fog of low charge. He activated his internal transmitter, tapping into the Badnik communication channel.
‘I feel lost.’ Mecha said, fiddling with his cloak with his claw. ‘My mission…was a failure. Dr. Robotnik still has not come.’
“Forgiveness requested, Mecha, but– it…is not likely he will.” Sigma said, flinching when Mecha shrunk into his cloak. “So, please, if I can help guide you– make you feel better– I will do all I can.”
‘...give me a directive. It is my function.’
Mecha looked at him expectantly. Sigma started to vocalize his protest at giving him such commands, then stopped to think. Having a proper directive might give him the structure he so clearly needed, and if he played this right…
“Very well. Mecha Sonic, your new directive is to protect the Scrapniks.”
Mecha tilted his head. ‘Logic error. There are no active threats on this island.’
Sigma stood from his crouched position, patting Mecha on the back gently. “That is your directive. If you so choose, I would greatly appreciate your companionship and help with my tasks– but that is not a command I am giving you. Remember that you are free here. Now– I will leave you to finish recharging.”
Free .
Mecha mulled over the word as he listened to Sigma’s footfalls fade down the hall. Was he not free before? The Doctor had given him much more independence than his other Badniks– unsupervised use of the firing range, open access to the base; he even had his own Egg Mobile.
Sigma had said, when he first came back online, that he was no longer a tool of destruction. Mecha hadn't thought anything of his words, then– torn between the overwhelm of the situation and his own pride, now bruised.
He had been created for one purpose. He failed. He was discarded.
The thought made his head ache. Wrapping his cloak tightly around himself, Mecha put himself into standby mode to quiet the sobering realization.
> POWER LEVEL 100%
> PRIMARY DIRECTIVE: PROTECT THE SCRAPNIKS
> RECOMMENDED ACTI_
Mecha cleared away all the notifications from his HUD, unplugging the charger from his port. Checking his clock, he saw it was the morning of the next day– he had slept for quite some time. He stood from the crate and walked over to a gap in the wall, peeking through to the outside. Sigma and the trio of Eggrobos were gathered in the distance, working away at something, while a group of the smaller Scrapniks watched and played nearby.
There was no threat. Joining them would not fulfill his directive.
Mecha stepped outside nonetheless.