Work Text:
...
| INITIALISING...
| Detecting reboot information...
| file:\METALSONIC\system0001 > Directive/Online/TaskStartup/
| Scanning data...
Processing speed: optimised
Memory: optimised
Display processor: optimised
| CPU = Robotnik ® Primary Force Badnik ® Battalion 00 - 0 Platinum Category 993 |
| Scanning data...
Primary objective located...
>
> [Primary objective: Destroy Fake Sonic]
...
... BOOTING...
A connection sparked along a wire at a speed no flesh-based mind could process, sending a white flash of electrical information shooting from one end of a miniscule pipe of copper to another. This wire, indescribably tiny to any organic comprehension, contained a vast ocean of information, a string of letters and numbers as long as a scroll wrapped around the planet twice. This information was being exchanged at a rate so fast it was invisible, faster than sound, faster than light, faster than time itself.
Perfection is not hard to achieve. Most people are just too stupid to ever think to strive for it.
Perfection exists as a straight line among infinite wobbly, uncertain ones. Perfection identifies and unravels each flaw as it arises, and quashes it effortlessly. Perfection bides its time watching everything else fail, and takes its stand in their ashes as the finality, the victor, the glorious eternity.
Nothing matters in the face of perfection. Nothing else is necessary. All things are collateral to the end goal, the completeness. When perfection takes its stage, its throne, its rightful place, everything will join it in flawless unity. No stone out of place, no hair unincinerated. Perfection would not stand for anything but total and complete co-operation.
A connection sparked along a wire.
| System Online |
..
| Initialising display... |
~°^°~ //-01000101 01000111 ~°^°~
>Drive found
01001000 00110100 01010100 00110011 01010100 01001000 00110100 01010100 01001000 00110011 01000100 01000111 00110011 01001000 01001111 01000111
| Connection initiated |
There was a dull humming noise as his sensors started up, flashing red lines across his visual processing display that vibrated and flickered. Something wasn't quite right.
The sudden burst of light and colour wasn't a shock. He didn't feel shock, but even if he did, he had rebooted his system in this way countless times before. He was used to the way his vision glitched to life suddenly, the flood of information taking a few microseconds to filter. What he was not expecting was the blur on the right side of his scope of sight, punctuated by spidery lines of black nothingness that coalesced into an epicentre of void. Lines of red, green and blue streaked horizontally across from the cracks, adding to the disorienting effect.
It was a difficult feat to damage him. Few could get close enough to accomplish anything in the realm of even touching him.
| Beginning system scan. |
| Retrieve : MEMORY93-8256321– file.visual-994-0 |
Of course.
Who else would dare challenge perfection.
The idea would cause him to scoff, if he were not above such a thing.
If he were capable of such a thi–
>\\ ERROR
...
Perfection had one enemy.
Chaos incarnate. The perfect imperfection. The ultimate bane. One true blight upon the possible world. His opposite, his mirror, his doppelganger, his twisted copy.
The fake Sonic.
Organics were arrogant. They thought themselves superior with no basis of logic. They considered weaknesses to be inherent, unmanageable, even necessary. Such is abhorrent with no exception.
Flaws are to be corrected.
Perfection demands accuracy. An accurate comparison of organic lifeforms against the one true epitome of perfection yields an obvious result. Flesh is weak. They tear with half the force. They break in an instant. They are slow, and sloppy, and they become weaker with time. They tire. They age. They falter and hesitate. They show mercy. The data clearly indicated an unbalanced advantage in his favour. So why did his imitative counterpart somehow find a way to best him so often?
| Searching...
> History
| Retrieve : MEMORY93-129473362– file.all_information-637-2 |
| Retrieve : MEMORY93-65473527– file.all_information-438-5 |
| Retrieve : MEMORY93-822695– file.all_information-871-0 |
| Retrieve : MEMORY93-77831572– file.all_information-642-1 |
| Retrieve : MEMORY93-129473459– file.all_information-638-5 |
| Retrieve : MEMORY93-61443597– file.all_information-552-0 |
Time and time again. It was infuriating. It was exhausting. It caused far too much unnecessary damage that would have to be repaired. And it was by far completely illogical.
Nothing in the data showed a significant advantage in the faker's favour. There was no pattern, no common variable. All of the statistics indicated his superiority alone, not the copy, and certainly not the organics that orbited the loathsome hedgehog. All of them were brainless sacks of meat, wasted energy and wasted potential.
| ! WARNING – ENERGY LOW
> 17% Battery Remaining
His reflections would have to wait.
He redirected his attention to his visual processor, evaluating his surroundings. The outcrop of rock he was situated on top of was framed by trees, a sea of green for miles in any direction, shifting gently in the breeze. The sky was clearest blue, with wispy clouds dotted about in sparse clusters. It was rather beautif–
>\\ ERROR
...
The area was clear and the rock he was lying on was mostly flat. This information yielded no explanation for why he had not yet moved.
| Running diagnostic...
! Damage detected
! Damage detected
! Damage detected
! Damage detected
! Damage detected
! Damage detected
! Damage detected
! Damage detected
! Damage detected
! Damage detected
! Damage detected
! Damage detected
Well. That explained it.
| Initialising backup power...
| 501-4R>\BACKUP=online\\ |
...
He was in no state to fight. In fact, he was in no state to move, seeing as all four of his limbs were either missing or offline. There was only one thing left to do. He would wait for repairs.
| Directive disengaged |
| Task initiated : Wait for Robotnik |
| SLEEP mode activating...
....
...
....
**
| INITIALISING...
| System Online |
| External connection detected |
| Directive : IDENTIFY -- DESTROY IF UNAUTHORISED
| Scanning data...
It was nothing like being jolted awake.
He swiftly connected to his visual processor and surveyed the situation. It was familiar in the same way that the teeth of a lion must be familiar to its prey. The yellow sunlight filtering in through a jolly arched window, the clean wood panelling, the colourful tables and chairs covered in miscellany. He knew exactly where he was.
"Okay great, you're online! Try to stay still for now, I haven't gotten to all the repairs yet.."
| LIFE FORM DETECTED:
| Identifying >> MILES "TAILS" PROWER – KILL ON SIGHT << |
He was not conflicted. Perfection did not doubt itself.
This fox was allied with his enemy. He must be destroyed. He raised his hand–
| ERROR : 00 – 315146129320
...
He looked down towards his arm. Or rather, lack thereof.
Ah. So that was what the fox had meant by ‘hadn't gotten to all the repairs.’
He was halfway disassembled, his various damaged pieces laid out on a long steel table in a seemingly haphazard fashion, but he could identify the pattern being followed easily enough. His arms and legs were among the clutter, and one of his hands was on another adjacent table, fastened in a clamp under a bright spotlight with tools littered all around it. He was suspended in the air by various chains and cords, hanging vertically from the ceiling in between both worktables. The fox had connected him to a complicated series of electrical wires in several places.
If he could express frustration, he would be feeling it now over the inability to use his own body. Despite the fact that the organic was clearly working to repair him, the situation was less than optimal. At least the inferior mind of this creature would not be able to decipher the deeper levels of his code, so when he was repaired he could simply return to his creator and have him overwrite whatever pointless nonsense the fox had attempted to install.
Behind his head he heard a faint beeping in rapid succession. He couldn't turn around far enough to see the source, but he had an uncomfortable suspicion what it was.
"I know, I know, but I'm working as fast as I can!" The fox seemed to be addressing him once again. "And as for that last part, I'm not going to do anything to your code, I promise. I'm just fixing the hardware, any digital changes will just be to reconnect the mechanics. You should be allowed to make your own decisions."
The fox chewed on the end of a pen, wearing an odd expression.
He was not well versed in the meanings of organic behaviour and mannerisms. It was unnecessary trifling under the shadow of his perfect goal.
The fox spoke again with a weirdly intoned voice. "But I doubt Eggman is letting you think for yourself in the first place, huh?"
If he could grimace, he would.
How.
How was this inferior life form able to translate his thoughts into speech?
And for that matter, it was insulting that the fox even dared to do so in the first place, extracting his internal secrets, invading his precious privacy while he was powerless to prevent it. So much for not messing with his code if the organic was just going to hack into his brain anyway.
Not to mention the things that were being claimed about his creator. The Doctor had only his best interests at heart. He was allowed the opportunity to destroy his nemesis, and that was all that mattered.
It didn't matter that he wasn't organic. They were inferior, weak, and outdated. His autonomy was a necessary sacrifice to achieve the greater goal, even if he wished–
>\\ ERROR
> Analysing ...
> Diagnostic inconclusive. Restart?
?
....
"Huh. That was weird, the connection got disrupted.. Are– are you alright?"
He stared daggers into the fox, trying to convey as much hatred as possible. The screen behind him continued to beep incessantly.
"Ooookay, noted. Angry is still online, though, so that's a positive at least!"
As soon as he had control of his body again he was going to rip out the fox's throat. He had always loathed that persistent, chipper exuberance the organics all seemed to covet.
The fox exhaled a whistle, but made no further comment on his sentiment as it lay itself out on the screen. He almost felt relieved.
Almost.
"Well, I've got my hands full with... well with your hands I guess. So for now just hang tight. Sorry I don't have more for you to do, although.. I wouldn't really know what you do for fun anyway."
The fox turned back to the worktable, tapping something into a keyboard that was attached to a mechanical arm. After typing the command in, the fox pushed the keyboard back and it swung around out of the way of the workstation so the organic could freely access the space to repair the damaged parts.
He was distantly aware that the beeping indicating the translated communication of his consciousness had ceased. He did not take this as any opportunity to relax.
The time passed agonisingly slowly.
Generally he was content to do nothing for long periods, given that the Doctor had similar tendencies to work for hours without use for him, but the current situation grated on him like a slash of diamond-tipped talons across his chassis. Having to sit idly by, with no ability to do anything even if he wanted to, was torture. The rage building up inside him was liquid fire lapping up against his core, broiling and churning like the oceans on the sun.
But, admittedly, the fires of hatred had a half-life far shorter than he wanted them to. After hours of boredom, his rage had subsided to a dull glow at the back of his mind. It could easily be reignited later, anyway.
He attempted to pass the time by observing the fox and the surroundings, resolving that he could glean some useful information by spying. There were very few interesting observations to be made, but it was better than doing absolutely nothing.
| Record : LOG-0038-742
His scanner worked efficiently through the objects scattered around the floor and workstations, identifying and logging anything significant.
A glove with titanium mesh covering the palms.
Badnik parts upturned and disassembled so that the complex electrical components were visible.
Weapons mounted on racks on the wall, most missing parts or blackened from damage.
Stacks of hand-drawn blueprints, most neatly laid on bright blue shelves lining the far wall, but a not insignificant number still sprawled over several surfaces, writing utensils and all kinds of rulers and compasses strewn around them.
A cold mug of coffee, left far too close to fragile electronics.
In one corner a tarp lay covering an aircraft, the tips of the stark red wings sticking out the sides.
Several computer screens, each in random places around the fairly spacious workshop, connected to mechanisms on the ceiling so that they could be moved to whatever area they were needed in.
Then there was the organic.
The fox was mostly insignificant, hardly ever posing a direct threat in the battles waged between him and the troupe of life forms allied with his enemy. However, many of the obstacles he faced were born from the work this life form did to aid his enemy's cause.
In any other situation, he would already have killed the fox long ago, if not only for the simple fact that he was inherently instructed to do so, then because it was the clear advantageous action towards his directives. The skills the mobian could wield were a great hindrance to his cause, affording his nemesis significant advantages against his efforts. It was inconsequential in comparison to the Doctor's abilities, but a bothersome effort nonetheless.
So here he was, forced to bide his time, and the opportunity to silently observe was proving itself less unpleasant than he had expected. The fox was engrossed in the work and was no longer talking, thereby being a good deal less annoying. The gentle movements he could sense in the surrounding technology he was connected to were calming, a familiar background hum of information. Code and numbers was the language he spoke most fluently, so to feel it whirring distantly had an effect like listening to ambient cafe chatter from the next room.
| Recording finalised :
>LOG-0038-742:SAVE001
Eventually he settled and withdrew into himself, allowing his non-essential systems to power down and divert to conserve his energy. Nothing had changed in the time that he'd been observing the workshop, save for the sun glowing a deeper orange through the windows to indicate the late afternoon hour, so he felt safe enough to shut off his visual processor.
| Task : Wait for Robotnik |
| Assessment : UNAVAILABLE
...
| Task initiated : Wait for repairs |
| BATTERY CONSERVATION mode activating...
...
...
**
| INITIALISING...
| System Online |
He was calmer this time, knowing what to expect.
At least he had thought he had known what to expect.
| Initialising display... |
...
| Connection Initiated |
As his visuals switched on, he felt a jolt of heat deep in his chest where his core mechanics were, as if something had sparked a fire in his turbines. The anger that had subsided in him earlier returned with a force that could unearth mountains if he hadn't been so incapacitated.
"Yeesh, that'll give me nightmares for days. You're sure he's not gonna jump to life and start trying to kill me, Tails?"
He wished that were the case more than anything in the world.
| LIFE FORM DETECTED:
| Identifying >> FAKER : “SONIC THE HEDGEHOG” – PRIMARY DIRECTIVE IDENTIFIED: DESTROY IMMEDIATELY << |
"He doesn't have any limbs, Sonic. He's not going anywhere."
Sparks were firing through his neural processors at a rate that threatened to actually set him on fire. This was pure torture, to have his enemy so close, so within reach, only to be incapable of doing anything with the opportunity. He hated this. He wanted to rip them all apart. It would be so easy, he hardly needed to plan how to do it. He could picture it with perfect clarity, it would take him seconds if he caught them off guard, he could simply tear through them all in one swift movement, rending soft malleable flesh into mottled stains of red in piles on the ground, leaking out and mixing with the oil stains on the concrete floor–
"I wonder what he's thinking about."
A third voice. An unexpected one. Why on earth was she here?
| LIFE FORM DETECTED:
| Identifying >> AMY ROSE THE HEDGEHOG – NO INFORMATION AVAILABLE << |
"Well, I mean, I can show you, Amy, but I don't think he'd be too happy right now. It won't be anything nice."
“Wait, you actually can do that? I was just speculating..”
He swivelled his head as far as it could go in the direction her voice was coming from, only just managing to catch her in his field of vision. She gasped softly as he moved his head, and he reasoned it was due to fear. However, inexplicably, she shuffled further around in front of him to where he'd be able to see her. She stared at him, her expression conveying next to nothing.
Not that he cared what she was feeli–
>\\ ERROR
...
"What the heck was that?"
"It happened again! I know I said I wouldn't mess with his code, but maybe I should have a look.."
He snapped his head back the other way, glaring daggers at the fox as best he could.
"Ah, Tails.. it seems like maybe he's not too into that idea.."
He tried not to feel grateful to his nemesis for relaying his thoughts.
"Huh, I guess he recovered more quickly from it this time. Maybe it was just a small glitch."
"Well, you said you can translate what he's thinking, right? Why don't we ask him?" He didn't look at her as she interjected.
"Amy, do you hear yourself? He's just going to scream about how much he hates me or something. There's no point."
The faker wasn't wrong.
"Actually, it's not a bad idea. I was going to switch the translator back on anyway, because it's useful to know what's going on while I'm working on him. Maybe he can explain why he keeps going offline for a few seconds at a time, so I can fix it."
The fox typed a command into the nearest keyboard, and the screen lit up with a simple box and a cursor line waiting for text to appear. This time he was angled so that he could just see it off to his side. He looked away from it to stare at the fake Sonic with as much hatred as he could muster. The screen started beeping with activity once again, the organic reacting with a dramatic wave of the arms.
"See, what did I tell you? It's probably the only thing he ever thinks."
"Sonic, give him a second. He's probably just... surprised to see you."
He glanced between the pink and blue hedgehogs as they spoke, frustrated at the pointlessness of their argument.
"Surprised to– Amy, you can't be serious! He's wanted to kill me forever and ever, of course he's mad! I don't think he knows how to think anything else!"
"He only just woke up, he wasn't expecting his rival to be here! Wouldn't you be frustrated in his situation? I mean we have him basically trapped here!"
"BECAUSE IF WE DON'T HE'LL TRY TO KILL ME! How do you keep forgetting that part?!"
He glanced at the screen as it relayed his feelings for them to see.
'FRUSTRATED.
CONVERSATION IS POINTLESS.
ANNOYING.
EMBARRASSED.'
He looked away, trying hard to not think about the last word that had typed itself out.
He was not embarrassed that they could see his thoughts, what a stupid concept.
He struggled to keep his mind in check as a heat rose in his cheeks–
>\\ ERROR
...
The three organics were staring at him. He glared at them with resolve, keeping only anger in his mind. It was an easy effort given how annoying they had been thus far. He glanced for a moment at the screen which was reflecting his internal state with perfect simplicity.
'ANGRY.
ANGRY.
ANGRY.'
He looked back to the mobians, rolling his eyes internally. It was a juvenile system, nothing like the streamlined technology he was used to seeing wielded by the Doctor. The fox spluttered as the screen beeped along with this train of thought.
"HEY IT WAS MAKESHIFT AND LAST MINUTE– I mean uh– nevermind.."
"What the– he can have complex thoughts?!"
He looked to the screen again, and was likewise surprised by the comprehensiveness of the sentence laid out on it.
'ANNOYED.
TECHNOLOGY IS JUVENILE AND CANNOT COMPARE TO ROBOTNIK.
SURPRISED.'
It felt a bit uncanny, seeing his internal dialogues played out in real time before him, so he trained his gaze back onto the mobians, focusing his energy on feeling that comfortable baseline anger instead.
“And there we go again. I doubt you'll get much out of him, to be honest, Tails. Sorry buddy.”
He wished the faker knew how to keep his mouth shut. It was insulting to his intelligence, the way that the organic paraded his likeness around under that pervasive persona of idiocy. It did no favours to his reputation being imitated by a fool. By a flaw.
“Hmm.” The fox’s brow furrowed. “I think I have a hypothesis, Sonic, but unfortunately I'd need you to stay out of the workshop to test it.”
“Honestly, dude, that works for me. I'm more than happy to be miles away from him right now. Catch you later!”
Papers flew up as his nemesis sped away, presumably out the door that he was faced away from. The screen beeped next to him and caught his attention again.
‘RELIEVED.’
He looked away sharply. When had he even thought that?
“I thought you might be.” If he could frown, he would have done so as the fox spoke. “Sorry that I brought Sonic here, I just needed to give him something I finished making last night. I didn't think he'd care to stick around to see me wake you up.”
He couldn't fathom why the organic felt any need to explain this to him, let alone apologise.
“I guess he was curious about you, Metal.”
The flame of rage at his centre perked up again like an aggravated animal, snarling and alert. That was NOT his name. Even if she was the one saying it, the nickname was like a thorn being jammed in his side.
“Well, curious or not, I think in hindsight it wasn't the best idea to let Sonic talk to him. I probably should've just left him offline.”
They were infuriating in their insistence on referring to him incorrectly. HE was Sonic, not that weak lump of bones and meat. HE was perfection personified, not some mindless machine, to be referred to by his materials. The only reason they were named the way they were was to differentiate them, but he always knew it ought to be reversed. He was Sonic, and the other was Flesh. The other was Fake. The other was Meat, Soft and Weak and so easily Killable. The other was a Flaw, plain and simple.
The screen was beeping incessantly again. He risked checking it again, not really caring if they knew he was thinking such things.
‘ANGRY.
I AM SONIC.
HE IS NOT THE TRUE SONIC.
I AM SONIC.
I AM SONIC.
I WANT TO KILL HIM.
I WANT TO TEAR HIM APART.’
The pink hedgehog was staring at the ground.
He didn't care. He didn't regret his words, though they were extracted from him like a tooth. He meant it wholeheartedly, every word, even if it upset her. Even if he didn't like seeing her upset. Even if he wished he had his limbs attached if only to reach out and wipe the tears that were threatening to spill onto her cheeks, just on the cusp of falling from her glittering eyes–
>\\ ERROR
…
“THERE! THAT! Can you tell me why that keeps happening?!”
He looked over the fox’s head, purposefully avoiding looking in his frantic eyes. It was indignant and childish, but these life forms understood no higher communication. In the effort, his gaze happened to land on the communicator screen again.
‘NO.’
“Metal, please, I just want to help you fix it, but I need to know why it's happening in order to do that!”
‘NO.
FIX EVERYTHING ELSE.
THEN LET ME GO.
I AM SICK OF BEING HERE.’
The fox was clearly still troubled by the unanswered question. A few seconds passed slowly, until finally the organic nodded, conceding reluctantly.
“Okay. I– I'll repair you, but it will take a little while. And… I have to leave you offline. For our safety.”
He went to the effort of half-shuttering the scope of his visual processing display at the top and bottom, to relay a visual effect similar to when an organic narrows their eyes. He didn't need to, when his every thought was being translated for them, but he wanted to emphasise his frustration at this in particular.
‘NO.’
“I really am sorry, but you and I both know what will happen if I just let you free in here with access to all your mobility again. Plus, you don't really have a choice.”
It made sense, reluctant as he was to admit so. Besides, they couldn't do anything to incapacitate him for long. Once the Doctor found him again and repaired him, he would simply return and destroy them.
‘FINE.’
“Thank you.”
The fox began to type into the keyboard, but was stopped by the pink hedgehog’s hand alighting gently on the smaller mobian’s forearm.
“Wait, Tails, before you shut him down.. could I, uh.. could I talk to him?”
The expression on the fox’s face was a perfect reflection of his own feeling about what she had said, a wide-eyed shock with an undertone of pure confusion.
What could she possibly have to say to him?
“Oh, um– y–yea, sure thing. Do you, uh.. want some space?”
“If it's okay?”
“Yea, um, I'll go get some things from the house. And the shed. And the yard. Yepokaybye-”
The fox was acting bizarre. Well, more bizarre than usual.
He shook off the thought as the remaining organic came forward to stand directly in front of him, closer to him than she would ever be able to safely get if it were the usual circumstances, but a respectable distance away nonetheless. She feared him, even despite his vulnerable state. Just as she should.
Although she had told the fox that she wanted to talk to him, she didn't speak for a long time at first. She stared at him, her expression almost neutral, save for the slightest tinges of gentle sadness, the most obvious of which being the leftover ghosts of the tears that she had since wiped away from her eyes. Of course she was sad over that useless imitation of him. The only thing that weak creature wrought in the world was pain.
Eventually, finally, she spoke.
“So. You're still angry at him, I guess.”
It wasn't a question, so he did not answer. He kept his mind blank, and mercifully the screen stayed silent too. She sighed, sounding more weary than she let herself look.
“I wish you could let this go, Metal. Even if it's what Eggman wants, do you really have to fight us all the time? We could be friends, you know. Even Sonic thinks so, despite what he says.”
The screen relayed his short response.
‘WHY.’
“Why… what?”
‘WHY SHOULD I BE FRIENDS WITH YOU?
YOU HAVE NOTHING TO OFFER ME.
WHY SHOULDN'T I FIGHT FOR THE PERFECT FUTURE I ENVISION?’
She fell silent, her brow furrowing in clear frustration.
‘YOU CAN JOIN US.’
She whipped her head up to stare at him, her eyes wide.
“W–what?”
He hesitated, but pushed forward. It wasn't an unjustified thought.
‘JOIN ROBOTNIK.
YOU HAVE VALUABLE USES TO OUR CAUSE.
TOGETHER WE CAN FINISH THIS.
LIKE YOU WANT.
NO MORE FIGHTING.’
She stepped back, her expression horrified.
“No! That's not what I want at all, that's just the opposite! You can't create peace by killing everyone, Metal that's– y–you– No, of course I won't join you! If you choose Robotnik, that's your decision to make, but don't drag me into this.”
He watched as she left, her boots clacking on the polished concrete floor.
His mind whirred with information, analysing the interaction thoroughly. She was not as disgusted by the idea as she claimed to be, her body language gave it away. She was hiding some kind of feelings. It would be simple to capitalise on such a weakness, so if he was to be stuck in this situation indefinitely, he would be making as much use of it as he could. He was going to coerce Amy Rose into joining the Robotnik Empire’s forces.