Chapter Text
It started with a fight, because of course it did.
The door to the Chaotix Detective Agency opened, and Vector’s lumbering frame walked through the door, followed by Espio- a sickly green tinge to his scales from whatever sight he witnessed- and lastly, Charmy buzzed slowly through the door- the child looking like he might cry at any minute.
The 3 have been investigating a series of murders, brought on by GUN to assist- ironic really, given the detectives operated…less than legally. Mobians were going missing, only to turn up later, brutalized, bloodied, a disgusting sight really. The 3 were up all night staking out a potential victim's house only for it to fail; somehow the guy got into the house and past their set up trap and claimed another victim, a college aged fox. Upon checking the perimeter once more, they found a window had accidentally been left untrapped.
Charmy was in charge of placing down all the traps.
Vector insisted he wasn’t mad, just frustrated. Espio wouldn’t even look at Charmy. Charmy… didn't say anything. He’s seen corpses and blood and guts before, sure…but this was different.
“So…” Vector’s voice cut through, purposely softened, “I think we earned to get some grub out tonight- uh…I know the pizza place down the street has a deal on pizzas, but there's also our usual wing place?”
Charmy lit up at the mention of pizza- oh, he hasn’t had it in so long! Maybe this time he can-
“Wings, please,” Espio chimed in, earning a glare from Charmy.
“I want pizza! You guys always win on what we have!” The child fussed, stomping his foot mid-air, antennae slightly bouncing and straightening with the movement.
“Pizza is disgusting, Charmy. Just take the wing-“ Espio spoke, only to be cut off.
“I.DONT.WANT.WINGS!”
That's how it started. An argument about something as dumb as what to have for dinner turned into…
“I contribute JUST as much as the rest of the team!!”
“DO YOU NOW CHARMY?” Vector’s voice boomed, a hiss laced in his words.
“Yea- DO you contribute anything to the team? What do you DO you do actually?”
Charmy flinched back with the verbal assault from his fathers, face hardening, “I FLY! I bring charm to the group??? I still belong he-“
“IS THE CHARM IN THE ROOM WITH US, CHARMY? OR IN THE ROOM WHERE THAT FOX FUCKING DIED?” Vector roared.
“No, you DON’T,” Espio hissed, putting 2 fingers to his temples, “We can use the car to get around- use the chaotix copter too! And CHARM? Charmy, you caused that poor girl to die because you couldn’t check a whole house. The team is better without you!”
….
The silence hung in the apartment as Charmy stared, lip quivering but quickly shaking his head. “Get your wings,” the boy said blankly before flying out the door, slamming it quickly behind him.
And that's how it started, with the stupidest argument known to man. Vector stared at the door, the weight of his words actually hitting him. “He’ll be okay, right?”
A silent beat from Espio for a moment before he nodded. “I give him a day before he flies back in somehow and asks for breakfast.”
Except it wasn’t a day.
It was a whole month; Vector stopped keeping track of just how many missing posters the two had put up together. His mind kept replaying the last time he or the chameleon spoke to the boy.
How much anger was in both of their voices. The hateful words they spewed at a boy who didn’t need it- over wings.
They tried asking the usual people Charmy would go to; Tails hadn’t seen the bee, neither had Vanilla and Cream. Had he actually run away this time?
‘No- it’s best to get that out of your head, Vector.’ He thought, placing another poster up and stapling the paper to the post beneath. Charmy’s big smile and wild hair were staring the crocodile down; it was just after his 6th birthday when Vector took the photo; the boy was giggling about some cake stuck on the tip of Espio’s horn that he was attempting to remove. It seems so far away now.
Oh- Espio’s already done with his stack. Time to move on.
————-
The forest is cold this time of night; did you know that? It’s the kind of cold that can only come from winds and the dew that clings to the grass just after a storm.
It’s the kind of cold that makes you wonder if you’re dead or alive.
…
I can’t even tell myself, weird! It’s probably all these bodies I’m feeling. I should kill them.
…
No, you shouldn’t, young one. The Colony needs those to feed.
But they’re in captivity!!! Wouldn’t it be so funny???
Remember the mission.
Fine. This one’s hungry anyway.
…
Someone's here.