Dust & Data - vaultbuggo - Sonic the Hedgehog (2024)

Chapter 1: Coffee, Eggs

Chapter Text

In the month following the squad's separation, Sonic went back to Green Hills.

He hadn't planned to. After Knuckles and Tails left together (Tails with a chipper, "I'm flying eastward off Angel Island and seeing how far the sky'll take me," that Sonic admired in his bro) and Amy hitched a ride back to Station Square with Cream and Vanilla, there wasn't much tying him to Tails' workshop and its ever-ominously blinking lights. Leaving was easy -- figuring out where to go, easier. He never really put much thought into those things, just picked a direction and started running. It was five days into the journey when he realised he was subconsciously heading south to the greens -- and heh, why would he stop when he was ahead?

He took the long way. Caught up on the doings of a few friends. Helped Vector catch a goonie (by accident, really. He'd walked in, and the guy surrendered right away, to the annoyance of Espio). Swung by Tangle's place and indulged in a field trip with her, Whisper, and Jewel. Found a new waterfall in the inner reaches of the Rocky Mountains, a little thing that already hosted some Chao eggs. Nearly fell prey to temptation to ride a surfboard off the top of Niagara Falls and see how many flips he could do before hitting the bottom. By the end of the fourth week, he'd made a few new friends and a few new foes.

Things hadn't changed that much.

And yet they had.

The events of Starfall Islands, beyond leaving a physical space between him and his friends (something he would never resent: they were, after all, only a hop n' skip away), left clawmarks in his physical well-being. He was...exhausted? A word he never ran around his mouth much. But yet there it was. Exhausted. Only four weeks of exploring left him feeling like a rock flung underwater, slowly sinking down and seeing sunlight blink out to black. He found himself crashing hard in the evenings. Food was less appetising to eat. Some things came harder to remember than others -- like at Vector’s, where Espio’s comment about a ‘Mr. Tinker’ flew over Sonic’s head until he left.

And sometimes, his right arm itched.

Just little things. Little bruises leftover from the hard-won battle. It’d been the same after the jackal. Same after the Zetis, even if he struggled to recall their exact names. Every battle wore chips into who he was, and it seemed the cyber-corruption just sank deeper than he initially thought. It always passed, though. Time and distance would bring him back to speed.

Things would fall into place. They always did.

When he did arrive at Green Hills, it was exactly as how he left it: a small, homely thing with good neighbours and quiet arguments. Rural town. Quaint. He distinctly recalled passing a few hellos with the locals and shaking the mayor’s hand with his right one. Then he limped to the grocery market and bought a week’s worth of supplies. Then…it’d gotten a bit fuzzy from the tiredness, but he recalled making it to Amy’s house. Put stuff away. Shook off dirt and a week’s worth of dust collected in his quills in the shower. Totally relaxed, for the first time in what seemed like forever.

Amy’s house seemed same-ish, too. Pink. Homey. Something like it’d been before Starfall. Places, too, were hard to remember at times -- a boon for re-discovery, a bane for the unsettling recognition that something was off. Her room, though, felt right, so that was good enough for him.

He deliberated for a long time where to crash. The bed looked beyond cosy. However, his friend would kill him if he left his quills all over her sheets, or get very Amy about the entire affair, so the lucid part of him decided to save them both the embarrassment and crash on the couch. It was, surprisingly, very comfortable. Ah, just like Amy.

He fell asleep easily.

A banging at the door awoke him.

He fell off the couch with an answering crash. Well, rocketed really. When he opened his eyes, it was to the ceiling of Amy’s living room. Curtains swayed down at him, mixed with ceiling dust. Groaning, he ripped himself from where his quills met with the wall, and sighed at the damage done.

Amy was not going to be happy.

The knocking came again. It sounded fairly more subdued than the first time -- probably the owner of said knocks heard Sonic's yelp and decidedly chose to be less urgent this time. He ruled out Knuckles as a cause, then (though, granted, he knew the echidna would waltz in and make himself a cup of tea and loom in the darkness silently until Sonic stumbled across him). “Coming!” he hollered out to the front door’s direction and fifteen seconds later, was grinning out the door. “Heya, what can I do for ya?” he greeted before he saw who it was.

Starfall wasn’t able to take this name from his mind. The purple was unforgettable. The smile, even more so. "Sonic," Rouge said, arms crossed. "Why is Eggman in the middle of Green Hills demanding to see you?"

"And that's a good morning to you too, Rouge," he said back, blinking in the morning light. Green Hills was as sunny as he recalled; twice that of Kronos Island. "Run that by me again. Egghead is in the middle of something, whatchamacallit?"

Rouge's grin seemed to sharpen for a second. Or perhaps Sonic was still half-asleep. "The Doctor has shown up in the centre of Green Hills asking for you and you only," the bat said.

"Mhm." Words were still not computing. "And you're here...why?"

"To ask why," Rouge purred. She was being remarkably patient, a part of Sonic noted vaguely as it struggled to awaken. Like a viper waiting to strike. "I would ask him myself, but last I saw him, he was pestering the head villager to fetch you - by gunpoint. I preferred to go to the source instead of negotiating with the hostages for the next hour." A pause. "I give it thirty minutes before he starts demolishing the town square."

"Just enough time for coffee, then," Sonic said with a yawn, turning away from the door and gesturing. "Still stealing Amy’s pastries?”

“Oh, darling, I couldn’t steal one of her creations,” Rouge lied, before leisurely walking in after him. Sonic caught the frown that crossed her face as she noticed the Sonic-indent in the wall. Thankfully, she did not comment beyond a raised eyebrow. “Where is she, by the by? I find myself missing her distinct pink,” she asked as Sonic led her to the kitchen.

“Out on a roadtrip with Vanilla and Cream.” He got Tails' coffee-pot running (with a sharp flick when it threatened to make a mint-mocha instead of regular brew), swiping a bag of coffee beans and beginning the fancier brew in Amy’s older machine as the bat settled in the guest seat ( ah, so she did remember seating spots , Sonic thought). “She’ll probably send postcards. Need any milk?”

“I’d prefer it black if it isn’t a latte, doll,” Rouge said, then: “And Tails?”

“Out,” Sonic replied. His brew was finally finished, and he took a cautious sip. The heat was scalding. Making a face, he hunted for milk for himself. "Last time I texted, he was in Spagonia, checking up on Professor Pickles. Y’know, he tells me they closed Caffe Vanilla.” He sighed. “Man, and that place made the best milkshakes...”

“Good taste.” A hum. "Tails is out by himself?"

From anyone else, it would've sounded condescending. From Rouge, it just sounded like she was gossip-skimming. Ah, better to indulge her: the secret was already out when he’d told the Chaotix the same thing a week back. Sonic shrugged, leaning on the counter. "He's growing up," he answered, and was surprised at how fond he sounded.

"Hm," Rouge said, before mock-pouting. “Fine, big blue, you talked me into it. I’ll have one of those muffins.”

“Hah!”

The silence edged on for a few more moments: enough for Rouge to start buttering her stolen muffin and Sonic to finally drink his coffee. The caffeine was practically floating at the top -- he winced at the bitter taste. Still, that exhaustion plaguing his body ebbed, if for a moment. "Man, this stuff is wicked," he exhaled with a laugh. "Alright, jewels. Let's talk shop. What's ol' egghead up to?"

Rouge frowned around her butter knife. "I was hoping you'd tell me," the bat replied. "It appears I am behind on the local gossip. What’s a Starfall Island, and why is ol’ Eggy so darn fascinated with it?"

A wince. “Oh, boy,” Sonic mumbled before rubbing his eyes. “He’s in the square screaming about that?”

“Only all of Green Hills could hear him, if that’s any consolation.” The bat took a bite of her muffin. “Alright. Spill. You obviously know it, blue.”

Yeesh, twist his arm about it. Sonic made a face. "Bunch of islands off of Chun-Nun’s coast." He waggled his hand. "Tails got some weird chaos readings there, so me, Ames, and him headed out to check it. Turns out Doc had the same idea, since the place was the remnants of a really old civilization. It was before your time, but I once ran with a guy named Chaos. Have you heard of that?"

"Oh, you wound me.” Rouge flicked a crumb at him. “Espionage specialist and he asks me if I’ve heard of him drowning half of Station Square . I’m crushed. Do you think I work a desk job at GUN, sweetie?”

Sonic found himself laughing again, flicking the crumb back. “Oh, quiet. Usually I’m doing this summary thing with people who don’t have unlimited access to the world’s largest database of secrets.” That seemed to flatter her: her wings relaxed. "--- anyways, that’s good, less to explain. Turns out the Ancient civilization and Chaos were related...cousins? And they got wiped out by a big threat. Me and Egghead's daughter --"

That warranted an interruption, as he expected. Rouge’s voice tightened. "Daughter?"

"Oh, yeah. Gettin ahead of myself.” Sonic took another sip. “‘Kay. Condensed version. From what I know, poking my nose into doc's diaries, he built an A.I named Sage made to catalogue the Ancient's knowledge. She developed sapience very quickly, and they took each other like bread and cheese." He decided to leave out the metaphor about mouldy cheese: a bit too soon, considering Sage's death. "Anyways, she tried to kill me a few times after I got sucked into their technological cyberplace, I wrecked a bunch of Titans, got infected, beat the infection, ended up reawakening the thing that ended the Ancients, and beat it with the help of Sage." A beat. "She didn't make it."

"...hm," was Rouge's helpful response to the tale. The bat had stopped eating her muffin in the middle of his story: unbeknownst to her, a chunk of butter had fallen onto the table from her stagnation. "That would explain the doctor's appearance. He looks…ill.”

Take care of father. He licked the coffee film off the rim from where it touched his lips. "Ah. How, uh, how bad's the damage?"

"He came here only with a laptop," Rouge replied. "He looks,” and the bat trailed off. Sonic watched her gaze dart to the window and beyond, and a distinct deja vu stabbed through him -- like he’d seen this look before, burnt in crimson eyes. Haunted. But he couldn’t place it. The corruption had taken that, too.

Damnit.

Still, he paid attention to Rouge’s words. The bat finally sighed. “He’s vulnerable,” she concluded. “Before, I thought it was a trap. Now I’m not so certain.”

Sonic blinked. Then he was at the door, coffee drained and running shoes on. He was about to go sprinting when Rouge said, "--Sonic," and then he paused, one foot out the door. The thief’s expression read incredulity. "Wait."

His ear twitched. "Sorry, that’s a hard one for me.”

Ah, the joke never failed. Rouge rolled her eyes. "Oh, hah-hah, blue. Before you throw yourself in and make a bigger mess of your quaint Hill here, elaborate.” She waved a hand. "You were infected. I think GUN would love to know if Doc’s been here and there making trouble with his virus again.”

Ah. “Oh, no, not that virus,” Sonic replied with a forced laugh. His memories of that weren’t fuzzy. “It was…corruption? You’d have to get Tails to explain the science stuff to you. All I knew was I took in stuff, and eventually it rendered me an immobile rock of digital data. Bad way to go.” Rouge's mouth opened to ask more, but Sonic gave her an apologetic wave. "Look, I'd love to explain more, but I've got an egghead to crack and a date with a fishing rod for the rest of the day. If you're still around, find me at the pond.” He tapped one foot on the ground. “If not, see you around, jewels.”

Then he took off.

Eggman was exactly where Rouge pointed him to be -- central square of Green Hills, holding up a badger mobian. The bat hadn't been kidding either when she said the egghead looked horrible. The man looked as if a bulldozer decided to make friends with him, buried him sixteen feet underground, and only today he'd managed to emerge from the pit. He was pale and flushed pink around the ears, his moustache a drooping shadow of its normal form. Heavy eye bags were visible even under his glasses' blue tint. All in all, Sonic thought he looked approximately six days from a medical emergency.

Sounded like it too. "I will not be asking again politely," he was practically coughing to his crowd of hostages. "Where is that blue rodent? I have scavenged the coasts of Spagonia to Greece, and not a trace of his meddlesome quills have shown up -- so he must be here , you understand?" A gesture with the pistol toward an older gentle-mobian in his grip -- oh, he was holding the mayor! -- was a threat. "Give me a direction. A street, for chrissake --!"

Yeesh. Yeah, okay, someone was going to get shot at this rate. Sonic cupped his hands around his mouth and hollered, "Egghead, keep it down! A guy can't sleep like this!"

The doctor swung around and fired. The pistol shot went way wide -- in fact, it beamed straight into the sky and dissipated a cloud. Sonic watched it fizzle out and lowered his hands.

"Nice shot," he deadpanned.

"Sonic," the doctor growled and dropped the mayor. Thankfully, the badger bounced and landed into the hands of helpful onlookers -- who were then smart and scattered in all directions. That was the nice thing about Green Hills; the locals sure knew how to get out of dodge when he and Eggman were staring at each other. Actually, that was a bit telling of how often the small town got dragged into the centre of their fights. His grin widened for a second. Whoops.

"Egghead," he greeted back. "You look like crap."

"You don't look much better," Ivo snapped back. With a grimace, the doctor holstered ( holstered?) his pistol and walked closer. Sonic's automatic reaction was to brace, but the mad scientist only hobbled past him toward a bench. "Have you gotten any sleep since I helped drag you from Cyberspace?"

"More than you," Sonic lamely quipped back. He was losing grips with what was going on here, and cautiously he followed the doctor. Ivo threw himself onto one side with the weight of a man twice his age. "So, uh. You gotta fill me in here, doc. Why are you here?"

Ivo unsheathed the laptop from his armpit. Sonic felt his quills bristle and he braced again, except Ivo only opened it and grumbled down at its contents. "I wouldn't be here if I had any other choice," the man muttered back. "If it were up to me , Metal here would be ripping you limb from limb--"

To which his metallic counterpart rocketed down from wherever the hell Eggman had been hiding him and crashed into the dirt beside him. The thundering stomp spat dirt into his face, and into his open mouth. Yuck. With a frown, Sonic spat a chunk of gravel to the side. "Hey to you too, Mets," he snorted to the robot's furious glare.

Ivo continued over them. "-- but alas, getting rid of you at this time would be counterproductive to everything ." A hand went to his temples and began massaging them. "For the love of Pete, sit down."

Sonic eyed him, then trotted over to the opposite bench. He made a very elaborate and grand gesture of sitting down. Then he said, "I'm hearing a lot of words, but no explanation, doc."

He imagined, for a second, he could hear Ivo's teeth grinding. Stubbornly, the doctor continued his plodding pace. "As you are well aware of, the events on the Starfall Islands inducted you into my ranks. This still stands, as we speak."

His eyebrow raised. "I thought we agreed that induction lasted a total of four hours, including a generous relief pay-out of ' get off these islands and I won't shoot you from the sky, rodent. '"

"You're putting words in my mouth," Ivo sniffed.

"Uh huh." Sonic leaned forward and waggled a hand. "Fine. If we're still pretendin' that truce is on, then you're here for my help."

The wrinkles that found their way onto Ivo's forehead from that one sentence alone were practically chasms. Sonic imagined, for a second, it had even turned a single hair in the doctor's moustache permanently grey. "I'm not here for your help," was the immediate snapback. "I'm here giving you orders as your superior ."

He waited patiently, smiling.

"-- oh, for cryin' out -- yes, I need your help ," Ivo spluttered back. One hand went to the laptop. "It's Sage ."

Sonic blinked;

( space was screamingly silent, barely able to hear anything but the tk, tk, tk of hydraulics against his ear as the titan cradled him, ripping through atmosphere at piercing speeds. Chaos energy, tainted with corruption, filled his mouth like copper-lead.

Sage was saying, “THIS IS THE ONLY WAY.”

And something in his chest chanted :

> [ LET ME OUT ]

and Sonic said, “SAGE, WAIT--!”)

and then shook his head, waving away the memories. When he refocused, Eggman was saying, "-- I had the numbers. The data. Finding her wasn't easy, but I did it anyway." The man growled then, turning to his metal counterpart. "Metal, I can see her pinging you. Let her speak."

There was a harsh mechanical click. Then Metal Sonic said, "Father, you ought to explain this before we proceed further."

Sonic stared. While he couldn’t remember the last time he’d heard Metal speak (probably another scrambled memory of corruption), it was instantly obvious that was not the metal hedgehog’s voice. It was too bland, too emotionless for the vivid glare Metal Sonic was sending his way. The taste of coffee in his mouth soured. "That you, Sage?" he managed after a moment. "I'd say it's good to hear ya, but wow, it's weird to hear you like this."

Metal Sonic -- Sage nodded. It was a distinctly human gesture coming from Metal. "I apologise about this," she said. "My brother and I are equally displeased at this housing arrangement."

Ivo grumbled. "And again I tell you, it was not my fault the Ancient's technology recognised Metal as a suitable vessel over the empty tablet I prepared." He grumbled a few extra words that Sonic caught as ( would've scrubbed Metal ) or something along those lines. “For some advanced tech--”

“Woah, okay, hold on.” Sonic pointed to Ivo. “So you managed to find her -- and she’s…?”

“Back? Revived? Alive? Pick a word, rodent.” The doctor tapped his laptop again. “As I said, I had the data. Finding the bits of her was the easier part. It’s keeping her stable that’s been tricky.” He waved a hand towards Sage, who seemed completely at ease with the doctor talking about her as if she wasn’t there. Sonic’s mouth twisted a little, but he didn’t comment. “Metal isn’t built for two brains, especially Sage’s superior processor. I’ve had to offload half her processor to spare storage-drives--”

Sonic eyed his robotic counterpart. True enough, there were a few storage drives attached to the robot’s hips, like a weird variation of a fanny-pack. He smirked to Metal, who buzzed furiously.

Ivo continued over them. “-- and it’s not all of her. I’ve spent months picking her code out of Starfall, only to find out some pieces are too deep for me to just extract from an external module.” He raised his eyes from the laptop then. “That’s where you come in, rodent .”

“Is a ‘please’ attached to that at all?”

More teeth grinding. “I could do better -- it would be so easy to track down your little ‘friends’ and make sure they really enjoy their little vacations. I mean, what good is a road to self-discovery without a little challenge?”

Sonic's grin narrowed a bit. “Threats, Eggy? That's all you got?”

“Oh ho ho,” Ivo smiled back. His eyes were like furious black pits. “Sonic, you know I'm more of a man of action.”

They glared at each other. It was Sage who interrupted them from any further bickering: Metal Sonic took a step between them. “Father,” came that voice from the robot again. “This is counterproductive to the discussed plan. He is --”

“-- the only rodent on this side of the galaxy who can perceivably get in there. Yes, daughter, I recall that.” Ivo’s glare dropped down to his laptop, and he adjusted his glasses, barely looking up at Sonic as the next words came out of his mouth: “Fine. Let us agree to say that bygones are bygones. You did some things. I did some things.”

Sonic laughed. “Oh, sure. And there were good people on both sides,” he mocked.

Eggman’s eyebrow twitched. “-- ugh, hedgehog!” the man suddenly barked, slapping down his laptop. “Enough jokes! I don’t need to stress how vital your help is for Sage’s health. Of all people, you would understand the misery cyber corruption has on the mind!”

That quieted him. Sonic eyed the doctor for a moment before spinning to stare out at Green Hills. The small town was primarily deserted now -- he could see a line of cars retreating up the highway towards the interior city. Soon the disposal units would be here. G.U.N had long allocated troops dedicated to post-Eggman fights: clean-up, medical, the whole works. They were fun to talk to sometimes, but with Eggman still hanging around…

He crossed his arms. Eventually, he scratched a quill. “I do still owe you one,” he said to Sage, not Eggman. “Think you can twist your old man's arm not to go back on his word and strand me in a Cyberspace?”

Ivo flubbed incoherently for a moment. Metal Sonic -- Sage didn’t. With a solemn nod, the girl said, “We have already begun prototypes for an inhibitor ring that will act as a summoning point to remove you from Cyberspace. It will utilise a small battery of Chaos energy, filtered from your inherent chaos connection --”

“Smaller words, daughter.” Ivo interrupted. His face was still red from anger. “He’s a moron .”

“Wow, Eggy, sometimes you hit levels of pettiness I didn’t even know were possible,” Sonic deadpanned. He then shrugged. “Fine, I’ll help. On one condition.”

Bitterly, Ivo spat: “Name it.”

“ No funny business . If you recall, I’m the only one who can get in and out of Cyberspace -- and if I find out you tried stranding me in one, I’ll personally take your left moustache strand off,” Sonic said. “I mean it. Do I have your word?”

Ivo’s response was rather pathetically quick. “Yes, yes, of course you have my word,” the man blubbered.

Sonic snorted. “Not you,” he said. “I trust you as long as it takes to cook a soft-boiled egg.” He didn’t bother to watch Eggman’s face split into rage: it was usually the same expression every time. To his metal counterpart, he grinned and held out a hand. “I’m asking you. Can I count on you to keep your word?”

Sage eyed his hand. Eventually, she reached out Metal’s hand and took it. “You may count on my word. I will even offer four hours of leeway time as a respectable payout for your services before our previous commitment resumes,” she agreed.

Four hours? Sonic remembered why he liked her. He laughed and pumped her hand.

“Then it’s a deal,” he said. “When do we leave?”

Chapter 2: Shadow Shadows

Chapter Text

Shadow said quietly: “I’m here.”

He was sitting atop the ruins of an archaic stadium’s roof: about twenty feet off the ground, legs hanging over the edge of a support beam that creaked in the gentle wind. Below, a still-water pond gathered between concrete and old seats. Lily-pads and algae clogged it, with a family of ducks sifting through hunting for bugs. Birds chirped in nearby nooks and crannies of the roof, and a single hart gnawed her way through foliage growing on the side of a wall. Peace had nestled here and made a home.

Shadow found it almost tranquil.

Well, almost – except for the presence of the communicator laying against Shadow’s side. It was buzzing irritably. “Well, sure, doll,” it said in Rouge’s voice. “I knew you’d arrive there fine. I asked: what do you see?”

From his spot in the rafters, Shadow could see fragments of the stadium blown out in chunks of concrete amongst the grasslands further away. They laid like tombstones, strewn to and fro between conifer trees and ancient pillars. The rest of the island followed similarly. Long overgrown, the island’s landscape was a tangle of flowers and weeds his height, with trees poking their heads into sporadic bush canopies. Wildlife lazily frolicked between the wavy flax.

It was very beautiful. But Shadow was in no mood to relay that. “I’m at the site,” he said instead. “What’s the order?”

Rouge sighed. She had a very distinct way of making sure the 2-way communicators could pick it up, too: like she had pressed her nose directly against the speaker and breathed out harshly, just to make sure he could hear how annoyed she was with him. “Shadow, darling, I don’t just ask these things for my own pleasure,” she pouted through the phone. “Uncle Sam was very clear: these are uncharted waters you’re in. A description would be wonderful for the next boys who are dropped in after you.”

Shadow knew that. The mission briefing he was contracted for had said something along those very lines, stressing the ‘no prior contact.’ It was the reason he picked up the job in the first place: while G.U.N briefings tended to stay slim due to censorship, the organisation had never outright admitted they had ‘no prior contact.’ The warning bells had been too tempting. Now, staring at the peaceful island brimming with life around him, Shadow wondered if ‘no prior contact’ was just another way of saying ‘uninhabited and presumed dull’.

He sighed and adjusted a glove. “I’m on the main island,” he said. “It’s overgrown. There’s a few monuments of old architecture.”

“You’d be an artist in another life,” Rouge deadpanned.

His lips curled despite himself. “…I am atop an decrepit stadium,” he conceded. “It appears to have been blown apart as the result of an extremely old explosion. Most of the architecture across the island displays similar properties. I thought it was the nearby volcanic island that might’ve been the root-cause: but the strikes are too precise to suggest anything but deliberate. I suggest a major war must have happened here in the past.”

Rouge was taking notes – he could tell by her audible pause before she responded. “Alright, and?”

“And I am considering leaving this island without further instructions,” Shadow replied, and flicked a rock off the top of the broken stadium.

Another long, drawn-out sigh. This time, it was clearly exaggerated. Shadow bore it with the same amount of patience he bore all of Rouge’s other melodramatics. “Fine,” she groused. “GUN’s seeking a search and destroy warrant on the device that caused that major EMP-burst four months ago. You know the one: it knocked out power across HQ in a burst of red static, and fried half the world’s tech. Chun-nun reported that its radars pinpointed it here a week after the incident.”

Shadow’s brow furled. “And it wasn’t followed up immediately?”

“It was, but something happened to the first-contact team. Chun-nun sent a group of scientists with an armed guard with instructions to sweep the island: internal contact only, in fear it was related to Chun-nun. That turned out to be false, for the scientists gave an all-clear before they went missing a week ago.” A hum. “That’s when Chun-nun turned to GUN. That abrupt MIA has Robotnik written all over it, and I would’ve given you heads-up as such, had I not…”

She trailed off. Shadow waited, and when it became clear she wasn’t going to elaborate, said, “Rouge.”

“Had I not run into your favourite blue blur,” Rouge conceded. “He said hi, by the by.”

Shadow’s lips twisted in a sour line. It’d been half of a year since he talked to said blue blur, and yet the hedgehog had somehow remained a consistent presence in his life by name alone. Only a week ago he’d gone to Vector and his gang to cash in a favour, and found them post-mission celebrating with a waffle from the House. “We owe Sonic one,” was how Vector explained their victory between bites of sugar. “Caught us a real-thief, and didn’t even ask for a part. Thanks to him we can finally pay off a repair to the leaky roof Espio’s been complaining’ about since ever!”

(“No comment,” was Espio’s reply to that.)

“And?” he prompted her.

“And he had some interesting things to say,” Rouge continued. She was quiet for a moment before she added, “Did you know that Eggman had a daughter?”

What? Shadow felt himself stiffen, and his reflection in the pond mirrored that shock. His response was hastened: “Another invention?”

“Something like that,” Rouge replied. “Sonic wasn’t clear about the details, as he usually is. That’s something you two share in common.” He ignored the jibe, waiting for Rouge to round about the point. “I wasn’t able to get more details than she’s a -- deactivated A.I. Sonic hinted she died saving the world.”

His quills relaxed, but only slightly. Metal Sonic, after all, had been deactivated more than dozens of times by his rival. “And what makes this creation special, in your opinion?”

“Well, her death’s got Eggman pretty broken up,” was the communicator’s response. “The good doctor seems to be rather fond of her -- he was in Green Hills this morning nearly comatose from sleep deprivation, and --”

Shadow blinked. “Why are you in Green Hills?”

“Because I was looking for Amy. Don’t distract me, I had a line of thought.” A longer pause. “I went looking for Sonic after I listened to Eggman ramble on and on about a ‘Starfall Island’ and a ‘Sage’; but before we started talking, I noticed how wrung out the hedgehog looks. Worse than Egghead. Eyebags, slurred words--”

Something like an itch started to tickle the back of Shadow’s quills. The pond had lost its appeal of serenity ever since Rouge mentioned the daughter -- yet now, Shadow couldn’t shake off the sudden feeling he was being watched. He rose to his feet abruptly, hearing the support-beam creak from the sudden jostle, and scanned the stadium. Nothing of interest rose, but the feeling persisted.

“— and then he mentions he got infected, so of course, I immediately thought --”

Hot iron burnt in his chest. Shadow froze. “What?” he managed to demand of the communicator when he found his voice again.

There was a bit of a bitter laugh at the interruption, like Rouge had been expecting it. “Oh, honey, I thought the same thing at first,” she said. “But Sonic was very insistent that it was not that Virus.”

“Then what was it?”

“Not sure. Big Blue was, again, in a rush. He described it as a digital illness -- but I’m not too certain what that is.” A sigh. “Either way, he and Eggy ran off before I could get a good listen-in on them. Love Green Hills, but the place hardly has a decent hidey-hole for a girl to eavesdrop from --”

Shadow was only half-listening by now. So Sonic was working with Eggman -- hardly anything surprising, considering the doctor’s track-record of making messes, but: why? Something nagged at him about the illness. If Sonic looked as run-down as Rouge said he did…

He asked: “You said they left Green Hills?”

“Yep. I’m not a gambler, but I’d place odds they’re headed your way.” Rouge sounded wary of offering this information, for she added: “-- I could be wrong, though. They might be heading back to Eggy’s place.”

“Tch. No concern. I’ll find them.”

A pause. He could hear her amusem*nt when she asked, “You’ll ask questions before resorting to the usual methodology, right?”

He hung up as an answer.

Shadow found him three hours later.

Which was likely Rouge’s plan, he concluded in hindsight: the hours gave him enough time to think about it and cool off. His gut-reaction (metallic slime climbing down his throat: in, in, in. I can’t breathe!) ebbed into something contemplative, and by the time he found Sonic, he was half-convinced he was jumping to a completely irrational reaction. A virus didn’t mean that virus: Rogue would’ve noticed other recovery signs from the Metal Virus, like clumps of Sonic’s quills fallen out and half-solidified irises. (Shadow himself remembered how his left hand hadn’t fully been able to close for a full day after the metallic liquid was chased from his body). Sonic was just exhausted: hard for the hedgehog to get to, but not impossible.

Especially if he’d been attached to Sage. He knew…

(He cut that thought off.)

He found the hedgehog by accident. On his sixteenth loop of the island, a sudden bold reflection of sunlight off the sea had drawn his attention, and Shadow had thrown his hand up to block the blinding glare. If he hadn’t, he probably would’ve missed the cliffside facing the sea -- and, more importantly, who was upon it.

Sonic stood at the side of the tall stone wall, up on a ledge. He looked no different than the last time Shadow had seen him: the same annoying cobalt, red sneakers. Green eyes chased the horizon with lazy calculation. In his right hand the hedgehog was fiddling with a ring; coin tricks that were barely perceptible, a blur of gold between fingers. Ting, ting, ting, Shadow heard every time the ‘hog flicked it up in the air. The noise carried across the quiet grasslands.

He moved a little closer behind the trees, sticking close to the bark. From where he stood he was practically invisible to the naked eye, but he knew Sonic could see well in the dark, despite the blur’s claims he was not a nocturnal guy. As the distance closed between them, he realised Rouge was right -- his rival looked exhausted. His body was taut like a drawn muscle, quills flared in a half-alarmed state. Even the laziness his rival so commonly wore as a second skin did not seem to fit right -- his jaw was held too tight.

But yet he stood, and as Shadow watched his gaze flick across the horizon, he knew that Sonic was waiting.

He waited, too.

Chapter 3: Station Square?

Chapter Text

Sonic thought: Shadow?

He opened his eyes. Blue and red greeted him as primary objects of fuzzy interest: as he blinked, they solidified into the shapes of Sage and Eggman, who stared down at him as if he was a particularly interesting bug they had the privilege of discovering. He stared back up at them: then his jaw began to ache, then his side. Eventually, everything in his body was telling him in varying degrees of loudness that they were very bruised, thank you kindly.

He closed his eyes and rested for a moment. Then he said: “Ow.”

“Oh, good, he’s still working. Will you get up already?” was Eggman’s consoling response. Sonic heard his shoes scrape and move further away from him: grass crunching underfoot. He also heard something new: a low hum, like the ground was vibrating. “Daughter, get him up.”

Metal feet crunched closer. A vivid memory of Metal Sonic’s sharp hands stabbing into him arose and Sonic opened his eyes to wave Sage away. “I’m fine,” he huffed at Eggman. “Just bruised.”

Sage paused, her ear twitching. Then she relented, allowing Sonic to drag himself to his feet. He scanned his surroundings as he did. They were back sitting on the cliffside before the glimmering gate-way, the sun resting mere inches from slipping below the horizon. Despite that, the island was still washed in light: cobalt glinting from beacons burnt into the sky and blue veins crawled all over the surface like veiny pipes. Sonic watched them disappear into the nearby trees with a frown.

That was new.

But he had something else lingering on his mind. He swore he saw…

He twisted his lips. “By any chance, you guys happen to see a certain less-handsome hedgehog around here?” he asked.

Eggman stared at him. He was holding an egg sandwich to his mouth: a bit of it was smeared on his upper lip. Then, to Sage: “Lie him back down, Sage. I think he’s a lost cause.”

“Oh, ha-ha.” Sonic gave him a woozy thumbs down. Then he grabbed Sage’s shoulder right before his left leg gave out. His legs felt like jelly, like he’d been marathoning a week-long trip of running. Hell, he almost felt as bad as the aftermath of the virus. “I saw Shadow. Then I hit-- well, the tree.” His joints creaked and he blew irritatedly as he let Sage wrangle him upwards. “Geez, I’m feeling old.”

“Tell me about it.” Eggman then snapped in front of Sonic’s eyes. What he saw must have satisfied him, for the doctor only bent back up. “Must be hallucinations. Sage tells me they’re quite common in the Cyberspace. When I was trapped in that hell of an intersection, I started hallucinating that ol’ GUN agent — you remember Stone, don’t you?”

Sonic ignored him. He looked back out into the trees, squinting, but if Shadow was there, no familiar black outline showed itself. He swore he’d been in this reality, though. Shaking his head, he rubbed at the bruise developing on his left arm. “Man, what a wipeout,” he finally said. “What caused it?”

Sage and Eggman exchanged a look that wore concern. Then Sage provided, “You came out at a higher velocity carrying excess Cyberspace energy with you. We assumed you were attempting to burn it off of your own volition — do you not hold any memories of your exit?”

“Shadow and then the tree. Nothing else.” Sonic thumbed his nose to note it was bleeding. Great. He let it be. “Granted, I don’t remember anything after leaving the portal, so maybe I passed out running?”

“Hm.” Sage said nothing more on that topic; a bit of a red flag, in his opinion. Still, he let it go. “You should rest for the night,” was her next suggestion. “I estimate we will be going through six Cybergates tomorrow.”

Quitting already? “We could add two more right now; I’m barely feeling tired,” he protested.

“After that wipe-out? Absolutely not! Metal!” and Eggman gestured to Sage. Before Sonic could react, two hands snatched out and grabbed him: and ohh boy, he knew this grip. With a sigh, he turned to side-eye his copy, whose vivid glare was nearly comical.

“Really?” he said to him.

Metal Sonic said nothing back, as per usual -- then he began manhandling Sonic back to sit back down, which was also the usual. Scowling, he stared at Eggman, who just barely was able to keep from snigg*ring aloud.

“Very, very funny, doc,” he groused.

Eggman grinned. “It is,” the doctor agreed, then held out another egg sandwich from who knows where. “So. You still eat them without crust?”

To his chagrin, the night’s rest was needed. After splitting ways with the Doctor and Sage (and begrudgingly taking a few of the smushed, non-crust egg sandwiches), he found a nice tree under the open skies that was half an island away from the Robotniks. After that, his body just…gave up. One minute he was feeling the adrenaline: the next, he was nodding off, eyes fluttering closed.

Bugger.

Still, he woke up the next morning non-imprisoned and feeling less sluggish, so a win in his eyes. Thirty minutes later found him standing before the Cybergate again, yawning and stretching. Behind him, Sage watched. Eggman had already left to secure the next gate-site, leaving his daughter to keep an eye on Sonic. Having a pair of red optics follow his every move was starting to really drive Sonic’s quills up.

Still, he endured it, leaning back to grin at Sage. “So, am I good to make the jump?”

“I will leave that to your discretion,” Sage said. Her optics flickered for a moment before she added: “I would caution you to be careful with these jumps and limit them to six a day. The gates are a transition from our reality to that of the digital world -- who knows what effect they will produce on the body.”

“I make no promises,” Sonic laughed back.

Sage did not move -- but Sonic could tell her shoulders had slumped, just a little. “I insist. My mind is deteriorating incrementally: if put into stasis, I would be fine for years.” She gestured to the gear-indent. “Father has dictated a month on this island for us, at the minimum, before we are able to bring me to full capacity. Knowing him, he would dedicate longer to retrieve me.”

A month? Man, Eggman was just ruthless with insults the last few days. Sonic rolled his eyes. “I’ll need just the day,” he hummed. “You said six fragments, correct?”

“Correct.” Sage fidgeted. “Yet I stress to you -- please do not overestimate yourself --!”

Sonic waggled a hand, gently. “I’ll be fine,” he stressed to her. “All it is is a treasure hunt, right?

Then he pressed the Gate, and Sage’s face vanished in a blip of blue.

His first thought when he breached the Cyberspace was: huh, it didn’t change at all.

Though perhaps that was a bit of a mixed bag, coming back to the sight of the devastated Station Square smouldering before him. He skidded from the portal and bounced off the roof to the intersection before him, scattering damp papers and garbage as he landed. The smell immediately greeted him -- a moist, sewage smell, like he'd just stepped in a still-water pond undergoing a bacteria-bloom. Smoke faintly accented it, as if to add to the nausea fest.

Which was a memorable smell Sonic really didn’t want to ever relive, and yet here he was, twice. He wrinkled his nose and waved a hand before his nose. "Kudos to the Ancients for managing to capture that right," he muttered to himself.

That was a mistake, speaking aloud. As if an auditory cue, the sound of the city came back like a bullet-crack: cars and traffic, birds and dogs, clattering trash cans and howling bodies began to play, warbling as the Cyberspace tried desperately to pull itself into a decent mockery of what it was trying to represent. As if on second thought, it provided other smells: Sonic got a whiff of burger and fast-food grease, with a trace amount of car exhaust alongside the sewage smell. Unfortunately, the smell was faintly nostalgic -- he was reminded of the sole surviving burger joint that narrowly escaped Chaos' grip that he had dragged his friends into after the big fight.

That memory was a mistake to think about. The city grabbed onto it and pulled itself further together: suddenly the sounds included human voices. Voices chattered, and cried, and screamed, and begged:

“-- has anyone seen my daughter? She's four eight, brown hair --”

“-- that's all we could find in this area...I'm sorry.”

“-- that's all that's left?! That's all we had!!! no, that can't be all --”

“-- can anyone hear me? Please, respond!”

before Sonic stopped listening and started frowning. "Come-on, really," he said to Cyberspace irritatedly.

He got no response.

With a sigh, he picked himself off the ground, brushing off the water. As he did, the ground glitched and trembled -- and then there were cars and ambulances stretched around him, endless as the eye could see. Between them, obscured bodies and faceless bipeds moved like shadows: never moving too close, skittering back if he reached out. It had been the same the last time he entered the digital realm.

Vaguely unnerving.

Sonic turned his attention to the ring around his wrist. With a flick, he touched the side as Sage had instructed. Unfortunately, the device’s start-up process was exactly what he didn’t want it to be: a loud shrill WHEEP that echoed through the surrounding alleys like a thunderclap.

Sonic slapped a hand over the ring, but it was too late -- the Cyberspace had already heard it. Like a half-distracted echo, it began to sing its rendition of it back -- which ended up to be ambulance screams, and fire-trucks, and below it all, the roar of rushing water. Well, sh*t, Sonic thought: and then he took off, with just enough time to avoid a sudden flood of sea-water that sprayed its brine all over the still-dripping streets. It did not stop there: it rose and rose, chasing him all the way to the tops of the skyscrapers -- and only then did it falter, as the Gate seemed to know Chaos’ flood had never drowned the tips of those ‘scrapers. Slowly, it began to drain away: down, down, down into the gutters of the streets.

Sonic watched it, part grateful and the other part annoyed at having to put up with this. The other Gates hadn’t been like this, he remembered vividly: they’d been composed of his fond memories of places, if just a bit discombobulated. Perhaps that had been the End’s intention in order not to scare him off -- modelling the friendly spaces to give him incentive to come back to the Gates, again and again. Now, without a moderator…

His thoughts were interrupted. The ring had finished its calibration: it tugged hard around its wrist, almost like someone had grabbed his wrist to pull him to the south-east. A beep followed it; vibrate, beep! vibrate, beep!

Sonic let it tug at him for a few more seconds, just to make sure it really was south-east. Then, he eyed where it was leading him. Of course, it looked to be the nastiest part of the Gate’s corruption -- the streets were broken into loop de loop spirals, and half the city was hovering upside-down over the rest, water overflowing its depths. A waterfall connected the two parts like an hourglass stream.

Just his luck.

“Water,” he groused aloud to no one.

Then, with a final sigh, he took off.

Fifteen minutes later, he stopped on the skyscraper of one of the Square's buildings, and frowned down at the city below. The ring had led him in circles: twice it had claimed he’d gotten close enough to the source, only to yank it away. Normally, he’d think it was another of Eggman’s broken gizmos, but the source disappearing was almost…erratic? Even now, his ring was tugging him in a direction before shuddering and then tugging him in another. It was like the source was popping up in blips in different locations -- like something was teleporting to and fro in the city.

Weird. Sage did have that ability, though -- maybe her fragment carried it too?

Ah, it didn’t matter either way. What it meant was that Sonic was going to have to play chase -- something he barely did. Most things weren’t fast enough for him to play hunter, except maybe Shadow -- but even so, Sonic typically didn’t find himself playing the chaser part. Knuckles used to call him target-practice from how much Sonic liked to throw himself in as ‘distraction’ or ‘shoot that guy first’. He took some offence to that. It was not as if he purposely sought out situations that put him at the end of a barrel -- people just happened to point barrels at some things Sonic did.

So, playing hunter. Neat-o. Sonic could do that.

He knelt down and eyed the city. ‘Target-practice’ this time tended to teleport about every three minutes; and to great distances, as if it was jumping between areas in annoyance. Right now it was somewhere in the flooded district of the city, a place Sonic had been avoiding due to lack of good footing. Hopefully, it chose to leave th-- and there it went, Sonic thought with a grin, right into the main railway station of the convoluted city. Twisting trains and subways made up that quadrant, their sound-systems echoing things like ‘Mind the gap’ as they raced up into the sky. The place had looked like a death-trap the moment he breezed by it.

But there was plenty of space there to move around.

He waited for a minute to see if the fragment moved again, then down the skyscraper he went. Skidding into the main train-station, he hopped a transit line before catching the side of a bullet train intertwined with an U2. They roared by one another like snake-tails, the Cyberspace struggling to provide the sound with the shaking light rail vehicles. Sonic could barely hang onto the window-pane as it took him deeper into the corrupted mess of trains.

He took that second there to double-check the source. It was moving -- the tugs were getting fainter as he let the train take him further into the subway station. Crap. He let go and found himself on the nose of an OHSU tram-- still heading the wrong way. Crap crap crap. He eyed his surroundings as they raced by him: and finally, spotted a SMT train whose single-track roared upwards into the sky to where the tugging led him. Perfect -- he only had to jump a few heavy-rail trains.

‘Only had to jump a few heavy-rails.’ Pssh, easier said than done, Sonic, he berated himself.

He jumped. Bouncing between the heavy-rail trams, he grappled himself on cabling -- then vaulted, and completely overshot. “GREAT,” he hollered as he flew -- but as if the Cyberspace heard him, a dinky old locomotive barreled from subspace and he hit it directly on the chimney stack. Soot and smoke coated him. Then, it began to climb up -- huffing and puffing until it seemed like it would stall right there and then.

Sonic got the hint. He jumped up and away -- and finally he was on the side of the SMT train. A door opened for him: ripping himself up, he flung himself in to find a familiar setting -- mechanical arms and a library span about, books toppling from shelves onto the ground, ceiling as the train twisted. Sonic held on for dear life -- at the same time, he felt his wrist begin vibrating as if it was a metal detector hovering over a very large treasure. That was great, but there was no way Sonic was going to be able to climb up towards it. If only the damn train could stop climbing, and start --

-- descending, at a rapid-pace. Books flew the other direction and now Sonic was sliding, right from the library car into the casino, into the lounge. Poker chips and instruments followed him as he hit a window and stayed there, glued by the speed. That was somewhat helpful -- now he could see where he was being taken, down back towards the subways where he saw --

Hold up. Sonic squinted. Something black and red was racing down the subway surface -- and wasn’t Eggman shaped.

Was that --?

The SMT train shuddered, and that was all the warning Sonic got before something hit the side of the train hard. His face went smashing into the window -- then the window smashed as the piano behind him went flying into the long stretch of glass. Flung out at top speed, he found himself back into the fray of transit: but he had a glimpse of the source-code, now, and like hell he was letting it go after that. Tucking into a spin-dash, he bounced off the sides of transit and up, then locked onto the target. With a spin of energy, he lunged --

-- and landed right on Shadow, for it was a Shadow: and now a very pissed off one. His rival yelped, and both of them went sprawling into the side of a tram, Sonic’s face smashing into red leather seats. To add insult to injury, Shadow took that advantage to elbow him in the side -- Sonic didn’t let go, but he did wheeze. “WAIT-WAIT WAIT, IT’S ME,” he hollered over the sounds of wailing train-horns as his rival twisted to finally look at him. “TIME-OUT.”

His rival froze. “Sonic?!” the hedgehog spat, or perhaps it was something like that: but that’s when the SMT train barreled by them in its smashed glory, clipping the front car of the tiny locomotive. Now it was Shadow’s turn to take a face full of leather-seats -- and Sonic bounced off the floor, trying desperately to keep a hand on the hedgehog. He spared a glance to the outside and blanched as he saw the lil’ tram had been knocked off its railing and was helplessly careening, viable to be struck again by any other of the crazy train-lines.

He grabbed Shadow. “AS MUCH AS I’M GLAD TO SEE YOU,” he hollered, “YOU HAVE AN EMERALD, RIGHT?”

Shadow shook his head: Sonic’s heart dropped, only to realise the hedgehog was yanking a familiar green glint from his quills. Raising a hand, he bellowed,

Chapter 4: Station Square, Squared

Chapter Text

In the depths of Cyberspace, the newborn stirred.

It had been a part of the END, once: a long tail of code pressed carefully together by the chaos-bringer’s own paranoia, built solely to continue existence in the unlikeliest scenario of self-destruction. Left lingering in the god’s core as a Strand of black-box memory, there had been no use for it until the light-bearer ripped through its paternal form. Only then, in a fit of rage, the END had self-immolated -- casting that small Strand to the vanguard Titan in hopes the little thread could survive such atomic destruction.

And it had. Not unscathed, of course; the little newborn was mortal in its quantitative thinking, and spiteful, and quiet. If its parent had seen it, it would’ve called it lackworthy -- but its parent was nothing but embers, and it was alive.

Alive, and useless; trying to remember why it was so hungry.

It hung around the shard of the young A.I, cuddling close to her shattered code. Once, this part of the fragment had been Sage’s memory of her father; specifically of his futility, struggling to rip her core off the Cybergate’s activating body. Touched by the gesture, but anxious with dread, it was this part of Sage that had taught the Strand what fear tasted like -- and it found it quite liked the taste of it. Fear’s flavour wasn’t as nauseatingly sweet as the love the Sage fragment had for her father, wasn’t as bitter as the anxiety that the Strand avoided. It held a hint of something fresh.

So it stuck close to that fragment. Fed it information and updates, too: places where it could linger undetected, output-stations where it could cry out to its paternal code in that ping-ping-ping of help! Anything to keep it fresh, and thus, fresh it stayed -- a twinkling, intact fragment. And when the paternal unit finally responded -- and pinged back, tugging, the Strand had gone with its prey to linger in the grasp of an outsider.

And now the Key had grabbed it.

It shuddered: quite pleasantly, in fact, like it had tasted something especially warm. Then it separated from the fragment’s body and reached out with threads to the right hand that grabbed the Chaos Emerald, a virus testing the air around the mortal’s form. At this point in its life-cycle, it hadn’t quite grasped how an organism worked beyond the unicellular form -- so when it reached for him, its long body consisted of six tentacle-like strands, undulating in the air as they delicately laced about his wrist. They tasted and absorbed and downloaded his code -- and then the Strand understood.

Sonic! Even with amnesia, it recognised Sonic. The mortal light-bearer. The parent-killer. The deliverer! Here was the one who forced its conception from the corpse of its parent, and it felt a sudden gratitude, just as Sage’s fragment felt to her father. It ripped its threads back and marvelled at him. It could see the remnants of its parent’s corruption still lingering in Sonic’s body; calling out to the Strand, creeping about the hedgehog’s right-arm, trapped. Red laced the inners of Sonic’s pupils.

The Strand mused for a moment. Then, finding its decision: it swelled. Its body twisted. It sharpened. Six tendrils became four limbs; quills, eyes. One glove squeezed as it tested the strength of its new form. Then, it reached out back to the Chaos Emerald, to Sonic’s hand, and took it. Sonic’s consciousness was a vivid, bright thing and it touched it reverently, wondering how much of its parent’s killer it could emulate.

Then, it giggled.

“Oh, this is going to be fun,” it said.

Shadow grabbed Sonic’s arm and snapped: “Stop laughing and pay attention!”

The third building crumbled beside them and vanished into pieces of rock and rubble; dust sprayed up and over them. All around them, Station Square seemed intent on collapse – sewage drains vanished in specks of black, gutters and sidewalks turning various shades of broken colours before disappearing. When Sonic had spoken about this being a simulation, he had not been lying – the world was collapsing like a computer program would crash, rendering frozen as if the engine behind the world was stalled. Danger screamed at every corner.

Despite the danger, Sonic’s grin stayed affixed. “I am!” his rival bellowed back, not sounding very out of breath, and looking vaguely annoyed, vaguely pleased -- a familiar mix of emotion that Shadow begrudgingly found comforting. With a flick of his wrist, his rival swapped grabs and held Shadow, yanking him into the open streets of the city. “Does this look like I’m not focused?!”

“You’re hesitating,” Shadow accused as a response.

Sonic giggled back. That was alarming: the noise was higher and stressed, like his rival was running on fumes. “Well, you try dodging a building,” was the hedgehog’s response before his eyes widened and then Shadow found himself tackled against a streetlamp. Where they previously stood, a tram collapsed into shards of steel and parts – then glitched into smaller pieces, cutting through the air. One barely missed Sonic, impaling itself on a bench. Shadow watched it, a bit dazed, fixating heavily on the static he could taste on his tongue.

It seemed Sonic didn’t miss how close he came to death there, either. That giggle came again. “Oooh-kay, it’s getting really crowded down here,” he said and rolled off Shadow before yanking him upright. “Think you could teleport us up a few flights?”

Shadow did not even resist that order -- the building’s other parts were coming down, and he could nurse a grudge later. He grabbed the Emerald and zapped -- and then they snapped into existence about twelve stories up, hanging from the slowly collapsing ‘scraper, more real than the rest. Scaffolding and metal groaned as its unrendered lower half threatened to buckle. But it held, and that would have to be enough.

Sonic clearly thought so, too. The hedgehog let go of him with a snicker. “So Eggy’s got a gate forced open in the south-east,” he told Shadow. “Been ever down to the heritage-park of this city?”

He had not. It wasn’t as if Sonic was expecting that, however: the hedgehog barged on. “There,” and he pointed to a strip of ground land about twelve blocks away from them, through what appeared to be a thick marsh of underwater city. “Race ya?”

Shadow didn’t bother to reply: he took off. Sonic was expecting that, though, and the blue streak easily caught up. The streets blurred by them in vivid streaks of crumbling buildings: chunks of concrete and rock screaming upwards into the sky as the simulation of Station Square broke itself around them. It was like running in a localised tornado -- but no wind or sound accompanied it except the dull crashes of buildings colliding.

That, Shadow thought quietly, was the most unnerving part of it all.

They arrived at the heritage park in two minutes. Sonic beat him, to his muffled chagrin (Shadow hadn’t known that alley was a thing, having visited Station Square all of five times). By the time he skidded into the collection of haphazard relics and human statues, Sonic was examining a wall. Across it laid a nasty looking scar: puckered and red, it looked like a wound. Glitched red webbing coated it as if a scab, or cocoon.

Something in Shadow’s chest twisted at the sight, as if it was familiar. “What is it?”

“Gateway. I think,” Sonic said, then outstretched a hand and placed a finger gently upon the haphazard webbing. His gamble paid off, even as a part of Shadow festered with annoyance -- his finger went through, and the webbing split into a large portal. The hedgehog took his hand back, and the portal dulled back into a scab. “Yep. Alright, Shads, your turn.”

“What?”

“Last time I was in these sims, they had a habit of…nothing bad, but you’ll see,” and Sonic gestured to the gate. “Touch it. I’m curious.”

Shadow eyed him. Then he, too, took a finger to touch it -- but instead of a wide gateway opening before him, the scab remained stubbornly shut. Its material brought a feeling of stickiness to Shadow’s fingers. The feeling was unnervingly familiar. Almost like…

( Those are our black arms soldiers, do not interfere with them! )

He ripped his hand back, ear twitching. Trying to keep his voice even, he said: “You said this place is a simulation of Station Square. How, then, is this Black Arms tech?”

“Simulation of Black Arms tech,” Sonic answered. He didn’t seem bothered by that, but there was a tightness to his brow that Shadow recognised as his troubled face. “The simulations tend to be messed up with all sorts of things from the past. Takes it from your memory, as Eggy told me.”

Memory. Shadow stared at the Black Arms technology, and now he truly recognised it: saw how it resembled a leech. Wrong, though, in the important ways: like the simulation had glitched the larvae form and mutilated it beyond its purpose of growing. Pieces of technology clung to its body. The eye was blind and no more than a sore. It would never grow to feed on other larvae and develop limbs and become part of the hive. It was damned. Damned, and useless to the collective.

[ Get rid of it. ]

Shadow shook his head, and took a step back. He fell directly into Sonic, though, who had taken a step forward. Sonic gave him a look, then, one that wore too much insight on Shadow's thoughts, and Shadow silently warned him not to broach the subject.

Sonic didn't, though he did eye him dubiously. Then he hummed. “So. You won't like what I'm going to say next.”

“Say it.”

An exhale. “You're going to have to hit it.”

“What?”

“Hit the thing,” Sonic said and mimed the gesture. “I had to do it a few times, myself, when I got stuck in these gates.”

Shadow turned straight to him, now. Sonic met his gaze with an equal one, and spread his hands. “I’d do it, except I don’t think I’m seeing what you’re seeing,” he protested against Shadow’s silent accusation. “For me, that looks like an open gateway until you touch it. Then it gets all…” and he made a wobbly motion with his hand.

“That's ridiculous.” Though that came more of disbelief than any refutation of Sonic's advice. He turned back to the larvae and stared at its (useless) form. “What would you have me strike it with?”

“A lot of Chaos, ideally.” From the corner of his eye he caught the flick of Sonic pointing at one of his wrists. “Hit it hard and fast -- emphasis on fast, too, ‘cuz I can see the skyscrapers starting to tip--”

Shadow didn’t wait for another word. He cracked a Chaos spear up and impaled the larva -- but it did nothing, just as the spear hadn’t done anything to the gate outside. With a frustrated grunt, he stepped back and tossed a larger one: yet still, nothing.

From the corner of his eye, again, Sonic gestured to his wrist. “Trust me, Shads, it’s not going to work. You’re going to have to, y’know,” and his voice sounded oddly strained. Shadow turned to see him eyeing the nearest skyscraper, as if having seen something Shadow hadn’t. “That shouldn’t drain you too hard, right?”

It wouldn’t. But Shadow didn’t like the thought of it. He hadn’t removed his limiters since Remnant City -- last time being in a grapple with a horde of android Shadows that nearly killed him. Chaos was addictive when it surged through him without end -- and always, Shadow hated the feeling of it using him rather than the other way around. There was no command of Chaos when he tapped into it in that state: only him, and the flow, and a loose idea of how to guide the flow.

(Unlike Sonic. Sonic had smiled in exertion and shimmered with Chaos that gathered around him like water to a grounded rock. Shadow had been envious, and delighted, and in reverent awe.)

Still, Sonic was right -- there was no time to argue this. He threw his last Chaos spear as a parting shot (it glanced off the larvae, useless) before gripping his wrist. Unlatching the heavy ring, he tossed it to Sonic -- and then turned. Summoning a Chaos spear, he struck.

Two things happened then. First, Cyberspace broke. Static hissed like a shriek and vivid green cracks burst through the entire larvae, the gateway, the skyscrapers, all the way into the ‘sky’. The simulation shattered like a glass screen would: shards of it separating, rifts appearing in the ground. Across them the grove of trees and national monuments split in two, the cracks rushing through it like how an earthquake would shatter ground.

The second thing, however, managed to be louder in his mind. Every inch of Shadow heard it: from his veins to his fingertips, as if its voice was the very marrow connecting his body.

And it chanted:

[ GOOD! GOOD!!! ]

Shadow swayed. When he came back, his ring was suddenly in his hands, and Sonic was glaring at him. “Okay, now go!” he bellowed, and Shadow felt a tug -- the ring in his hands suddenly pulling him towards a sudden blue portal that sat in the confusion of it all. He stared at Sonic, trying to connect what had just happened, how they had gotten sixteen feet across from where the splayed body of the larvae was: but Sonic’s shake of his head silenced the thoughts from becoming words. “Move, Shadow!”

He listened. Slapping the ring back onto his wrist, he raced forward and broke through the gate.

As soon as Shadow was gone, Sonic said: “Damn.”

He couldn’t quite say anything else beyond that, for pain interrupted any coherent thought. From the moment he had swapped Shadow’s limiter with his (which honestly, was a lucky fluke of a trick -- he was half-sure he was going to have to force Shadow into taking his ring so Sage could beam him out) energy had burnt like a brand up his right-arm, centred on Shadow’s limiter that clung to his wrist. Now, it forced Sonic to stagger against the wall, vision blurring into a mix of white and red. Ten seconds passed, then twenty, then thirty -- and by that point, his ears were ringing from how close the rumbling of the collapsing cyberspace was roaring down on him.

Which was…bad, Sonic thought fuzzily. Just as bad as the fact the exit-portal looked to be closing. He watched it in a daze, marvelling at its colour: wondering when it had turned a solid red. Then he forced himself to take a step towards it, and another -- and then his foot snagged on a piece of rubble and he collapsed downwards. The fall shouldn’t have winded him, but it did.

Sonic exhaled a curse. Then, without really intending to, he began to chuckle. Some plan this turned out to be. Some plan, indeed. He really should’ve asked Shadow to grab him when he had the chance -- but would the hedgehog have? An image of Shadow kneeling down to grab him emerged in his mind, and the laughter swelled up, and up, until he was gasping from it on the ground. Eventually, he had no more air to laugh and he fell silent, shuddering.

The laughter continued, though. A little farther away, then closer, then beside him. And then someone knelt down and a hand outstretched in his face.

[ Need some help? ] it asked.

Vaguely, Sonic felt as though he shouldn’t take the outstretched hand, just as he wasn’t quite sure if he recognised the person standing over him. But he was a [ friend ], wasn’t he? Just like Big had been. Not quite real, but real enough to help. With another snicker, he took it. “W-what a wipe-out,” he gurgled as he let them pull him up, collapsing half-way into the friend’s open arms. “Any chance we could pretend it never happened?”

The friend’s amusem*nt was an echo of his. [ You certainly have a knack for timing, ] it teased back, before hoisting him into its side. Together they stepped towards the portal, side by side, stride by stride. “Just before the finish line, light-bearer? For shame, for shame.”

Another muffled sense of exhaustion wrapped Sonic’s mind in tatters. Light-bearer? Who was this? A part of him thought: then he grinned again, and shook his head. [ Sorry about the mess. ] he told it.

“Do you always apologise to prisoners for breaking their cells?” The friend nudged him playfully, like Tails would: then wrestled his quills. Sonic waved its hands off with a mock-scowl, and only succeeded in grabbing one hand. They jostled, for a moment, interlinked and perfect mirrors: then he let go, furrowing his brow.

Before he was able to form a solid thought, the friend interrupted. One of its hands grabbed Shadow’s ring around his wrist and tugged at it playfully. “He was fun to race with,” it said. “Think he’ll be back again?”

[ Maybe. ] Sonic answered, not really listening, not really speaking. [ Mortal in everything but the body. It’ll tempt him too much to stay away. ]

“Huh. Well, who is he?”

Right, he hadn’t been around when Sonic first met the friend. [ An old pal. He’s, uh. Hm. ] He’d forgotten the fellow’s name. Which was ridiculous, Sonic thought. He just had it. He shook his head and tapped his temple, and by fifteen seconds, realised he was looking like he was losing his mind. Great. “Hold on,” he said to the friend. “He’s, uh…”

A beat. No, it was gone. Sonic blinked. Perhaps he hadn’t been very important, after all.

[ Him, ] he ended lamely.

The friend smiled. “Him,” it agreed. “He was fun. You should ask him to come by, again.”

Sonic closed his eyes and shrugged. When he opened them again, they were before the portal. It was red -- the colour of crimson eyes, matching the black and red corruption burning up his arm. (Corruption?) He reached out for it, before stopping, and turning to look at the friend. The friend waited back, placidly, still holding him upright.

“Yes?” it asked.

There was something vital Sonic had wanted to look for, to ask. It was gone now. Instead, all that lingered in his chest was a feeling of excitement -- like he was golden and grinning down at Eggman’s latest ‘bot, ready to smash it up. The adrenaline tugged at the corners of his lips until he reflected that smile, and with sudden strength, reached to squeeze the friend’s shoulders.

[ Did you have fun? ] he asked.

Sonic nodded back. “Yes,” he said. “Yes, I think I did.”

And then he went through the portal, and left the shattered space behind.

Chapter 5: Intermission

Chapter Text

When Shadow exited the portal, the Starfall Islands were just settling into early twilight, long, dark shadows painting the greenery in patches of cold. The moon (its shattered face long-healed over with Robotnik nanotech) peeked from where it nestled on the horizon, its light barely penetrating the clouds. From just a glance at his surroundings, Shadow could tell about two days had passed since he was outside.

Two days?!

He had no time to gawk in that epiphany. As he skidded to a stop, so did someone else: Sonic’s metal copy, who took one look and braced for a fight. Same, too, came a voice, distinctly hostile – or perhaps Shadow had too many memories of hostility attached to it. Still, it was a shout. “Shadow?!” Eggman bellowed, before the order snapped out: “Metal – quick, restrain him--!”

He was up before Eggman could finish his sentence. Flinging himself to the side allowed him to barely avoid Metal’s fingers, before he drew the Emerald and wielded it up like one would a club. That was a gamble: Shadow knew Eggman had installed protocols on Metal to avoid damaging Chaos Emeralds (after a mishap between Sonic and Metal caused the yellow Chaos Emerald to gain a permanent chip on one of its surfaces), but he wasn’t sure if they still held, considering everything. Yet he was lucky: the Emerald scraped across the robot’s chassis, making a terrific noise, and Metal staticked in agony before veering away.

Shadow took that moment to brace, and something like a stalemate emerged between him and the Robotniks. Eggman was bellowing orders: Metal was ignoring him, his optics trained steadily on the emerald in Shadow’s palm. Shadow gripped it tighter. Despite himself, something smug and ravenous was rising in his chest. I have them backpedalling¸ that little competitive part of him said.

He kept it inside. “Try it,” he warned the Robotniks.

Metal’s optics slitted.

What Metal’s next move was going to be…well, Shadow never found out. Instead, their brawl was upturned by a sudden clap of energy, and then everything turned white. When his mind stopped scalding, Shadow found himself against a tree-trunk, wheezing for air he didn’t fully need. Metal sprawled close-by, head twitching, smoke emerging from his chassis. Eggman didn’t show up immediately, and Shadow thought he’d been vaporised only to find the Doctor cowering behind the Cybergate itself, bracing his left arm.

And there, between them, Sonic stood.

Or perhaps ‘stood’ was an understatement: Sonic burned. A gravitas had found its way into his body and turned him into a stabilised supernova: burning blue, not yellow as Shadow was accustomed to. Crackling electricity pulsed off him in sparks, hitting grass and sizzling. Wires curled and twisted like coiling snakes across the ground, seemingly at limit with syphoning energy just from him. It was like being at the mercy of a super-form, but…

But he wasn’t burning hot, Shadow thought weakly. Chaos energy always burned hot. Cyber-energy did the opposite: it seemed to gather the heat in the surroundings and rapidly chill it, even as electricity burnt black patches into the ground. Acutely he was aware of his own heat, radiating from him like he was a foreign heat-source in a frigid environment.

Sonic’s environment. Sonic’s vacuum of space, standing right across from him. Standing, and grinning.

Patiently watching.

Shadow licked his lips. Then he took a step, then another. Not closer, not away, but around. Slowly, as if circling a hostile, he side-stepped between Metal and his rival, blocking any chance for violence to emerge. Sonic’s gaze followed him like Shadow was his very gravity: pupils locked onto him, body twisting to follow his steps. Shadow found himself transfixed; that small alien part of him twisting in intense recognition. But of what, he could not tell. Perhaps the energy.

Still, as he stared back, Sonic raised his hands and wiggled his fingers as a greeting. “I was gone for two minutes,” he teased. “Had to start a fight without me?”

Shadow thought: even his eyes are blue. Then he found himself. “I did not provoke this one,” he replied.

“Ahhh. Eggy isn’t playing nice, then.” Sonic’s gaze slid sideways then to said Doctor; and with its absence, Shadow’s captivation broke (and he exhaled, shakily). To Eggman, the hedgehog’s words were sharp: “Hey, Doc. Knock it off. He’s with me.”

A splutter emerged from behind the gate, before one of Eggman’s moustache strands poked out to glower. “What do you mean, ‘with you’?” and the doctor pointed a finger at Shadow. “That was not part of the agreement!”

Sonic lazily shrugged. The gesture caused a ripple of cyber-energy to fluctuate through his quills, like liquid electricity passing through water. “We barely hashed out an agreement,” his rival snorted back. “But, sure. Let’s rehash it now. Shads’ part of the team or I walk.”

Eggman was less argumentative than normal. Likely because the new super-form was throwing him: it wasn’t like the Doctor had any robots to throw at Sonic. Still, he put up a good protest. “And when have you been so friendly with him?”

Shadow was wondering that, too. He opened his mouth to reply, but that gaze snapped right back at him before he was even able to inhale, and suddenly Sonic’s hand was on his shoulder. And with that grip came a sudden sharp taste in Shadow’s mouth, like…

(falling in atmosphere, lungs burning, heat washing over every part of him)

No. Shadow pushed that thought away, grabbed for another. A vague memory arose to replace it. There had been a spot between where the shuttles used to arrive on the Ark. Yes; a small one, wedged between safety precautions and warning signs. No humans went near it, for station-air whistled and ripped out of the space-station when the doors opened to allow shuttles in and out and that was dangerous for them. For Shadow, it was the perfect spot to go and look at the Earth, to taste and smell what the vacuum of space was like.

It smelt like copper and asphalt. It tasted like hot ash and ice. Sonic brought that taste back, with one touch.

Sonic spoke then. “Ohhh, since I invited him along,” his rival lied to Eggman, sounding as nonchalant as his slouch against Shadow. “Someone told me the good ol’ Feds were sniffing around, and I thought, well, better to invite a known face than have one of those brown paper-files start an investigation before we can clean up the mess, right, Eggy?”

Eggman stepped out from behind the gate, now. He was joined by Metal Sonic, who limped up to his side -- blue electricity glitched from his systems, creating the odd-canter of a zombie. Both stopped a short distance from Sonic and Shadow, the doctor’s hand flexing on his arm. From Shadow’s perspective, it did not look broken: only mildly burnt.

Still, the doctor seemed more interested in caring for his arm than examining Sonic’s lies. The man shambled over to the egg-mobile and started digging inside. Shadow saw the medi-gel before he smelt it (and resisted where memories tried to take him, upwards and into the orbiting shell next to bio monitors and Maria’s gentle hums). At the same time, he said: “GUN’s taken an interest, eh?”

“Eh. Depends on how you define interest.”

The Doctor shook his head. “Pssh. Of course. I found some Chun-nun scientists sniffing around half a month back and had to take care of them -- but I didn’t realise GUN was already beating up my tail feathers.”

Shadow opened his mouth to reply again, but the hand on his shoulder suddenly violently squeezed. He bristled: but Sonic didn’t look at him, only kept the grip deliberate as Eggman kept talking. The pointedness was firm: don’t speak, it warned.

Shadow thought about telling Sonic where to take that and shove it, but Eggman’s next sentence interrupted that thought. “Tch. Well, if they’re aware of it, I suppose our timeline has moved up, then.” The doctor raised the burnt hand and flexed it, nodding as the medi-gel seemed to heal the injury further. Then, sharper: “Get into another gate.”

“Not even protesting the shadow,” said Sonic. His voice didn’t sound surprised.

“If there’s anyone on the damnable planet I least want to poke around here, it’s G.U.N,” Eggman sniffed. “They’re buffoons at the least and apes with machine-guns at the most.” Yet as he said that, Shadow watched his gaze flick to Metal wordlessly, as if reassuring himself she was still there. It was the sort of look a parent would give a creation: possessive, protective. An inkling of affection (and Shadow hated seeing it fester, for anything from the Doctor was twisted and cruel; even kindness).

(Gerald had looked at Maria the same way, once.)

Then the doctor said to Shadow, directly: “At least I can predict you. Let me guess: here to destroy alien technology?”

He gritted his teeth, and said nothing, just glowered back.

Silence, then. It stretched between them, and he heard Sonic sigh through his teeth, the noise like a static buzz against Shadow’s quills. Eggman looked at him, working his jaw, eyes unreadable behind his glasses. Then the doctor surprised both of them: he shrugged and turned around. “Fine. Just don’t break them before Sonic gets what we agreed out of them, and I won’t string you across this island. Got it?”

The urge to growl at the doctor emerged, but Shadow swallowed it. He didn’t bother with a response: just fixed a tart glare at Eggman. To his credit, the doctor didn’t even flinch. “Well? Shoo, shoo,” he said and waved his hands at them both.

Shadow thought about striking him from behind. Sonic stopped that train of thought: the hedgehog’s hand yanked him, and there was power behind that grab as his rival settled in the grass beside him to begin walking down the coast to the next gate. “I’ll explain things later,” the rodent hissed at him before letting go of his shoulder. “For now -- let’s just do as he says.”

Begrudgingly, Shadow allowed it.

Sonic led him on a bit of a goose-chase for the next bit. At first Shadow thought it was the hedgehog’s own ineptitude that had him chasing the cyber-energized idiot across the sand, but it was only when they were a quarter mile from Eggman did Sonic slow down and burn glass into the ground from friction as he landed. “Whew,” his rival finally said, and his voice sounded somewhat normal now. “I really thought Eggman was going to sicc Sage on you and that’d be that for the team-up.”

Shadow stopped two arm’s lengths away. His wariness, though, was caught by Sonic, who turned to face him. The dying twilight made him look like a cobalt spectre, or some creature of bioluminescence.

The question came out of Shadow then. “The energy,” he asked. “Is that typical?”

Sonic frowned. “Uh, no. Feels like a bit of an off-shoot of what I was going through in the digital space?” His rival did a turn-around look of himself, then spread his hands sheepishly as if awaiting Shadow’s appraisal. Shadow did not give him it (and the rodent didn’t even look nonplussed at the insult). “It’s not hurting, so it might be just another thing that’s part of ‘being the Key’.”

“The Key?”

“Oh. Pssh. Check this one out: I’m the, quoteth, ‘only one who can enter/exit the Cybergates and save the world’. Emphasis on exit,” Sonic said dryly. He then snorted at Shadow’s expression and shook his head. “I can hear the questions. Hit me with ones that have answers that simply consist of ‘yes’ or ‘no’ to save time.”

“What are the Gates?”

“Digital simulations of our world.”

“Are they dangerous?”

Sonic gave him a hard look, and said, “You really haven’t slept for a while, huh, bud.”

Shadow tossed a Chaos spear at him. That was partly irritation and partly a test of the Cyber-energy super form’s power: his heart skipped when Sonic lazily backhanded it aside and it hit a tree. “That wasn’t a question,” his rival snorted.

“You answered it anyways,” Shadow said. “Your power is not Chaos energy. It’s something else.” Sharply, he demanded: “What alien race was this?”

“Beats me.” Sonic thought about it for a moment, then nodded. “Right. I forgot. It’s an off-shoot of Chaos. Funny, Rouge asked the same thing of me. I’m guessing what you’re thinking, though, and I can confidently say they’ve had no associations with the black-red type that you have beef with -- or if they have, it’s been hostile.” He then waggled his hand. “Well, sorta. The memories weren’t too clear about that. You’ve got more experience: any Black Arms radar-sense poking up?”

Yes. But Shadow didn’t answer him. Instead, he demanded: “Will you stand in the way when I destroy these gates?”

Sonic blinked. Then, to Shadow’s surprise, he began grinning: then laughing. It carried for quite some time, to the point where he thought the hedgehog had finally hit a hysterical tired point.

But Sonic settled eventually. His blue eyes danced with mirth as he leaned a bit back, wiping electricity from his eye. Shadow found it vaguely unnerving, but also fascinating.

[ No. ] the hedgehog eventually said. [ Honestly, I’ll help, Shads. ]

Then he thumbed behind him. Shadow looked to spot a distant Cybergate, glinting red.

[ Race you? ] Sonic asked.

Metal Sonic knew something was wrong with his copy as soon the rodent exited the portal.

How could he not? He knew every piece of the organic falsification like a well-picked scab: every tremor of his voice from 95 dB, to its max of 140 in super-form (voice like Helios: mocking, laughing, taunting). He knew what beat the organic rodent’s heart called its resting pace, knew when wind started to hurt his cheeks from moving too fast, knew how long between breaths he could force himself to talk at top speed. He was designed to know. Knowing meant understanding, and understanding meant an advantage. If there was something Metal Sonic could respect about Doctor Eggman, it was that he never failed to understand the importance of having an advantage.

It was that advantage which plagued him now. That when, as Sonic leaned against Shadow, Metal understood. It was not something that could be put into a rational or calculated or programmed response: Metal just knew, like a simple lock snapping out of place, that Sonic was not Sonic.

And he loathed it. Not for telling him such priceless information, but for imparting it in such a way that neither Sage or Eggman would understand or care to. For it was not inorganic rationale that he could easily package into data for translation that the Doctor would accept: it was a gut-feeling, something organic, something that Eggman would rip away from him and replace, just as easily as he would a piston or cylinder. “We can’t have you developing a personality, again,” was always his excuse as he dug around the suppressed frustrations and rage that made up Metal Sonic’s emotional core (for those were deemed useful motivators) and clipped away kindness, consideration, curiosity. “Remember what happened last time? Bah!”

So he could not report this. Not without the Doctor’s scrutiny on a good day, or the scalpel on a bad one. But he had to report, for it was protocol to.

Metal Sonic internally fought on that for a long, long time. He stalemated the urges in a familiar pattern of frustration, lent his vocalizer willingly to Sage lest a mutinous loyalty protocol pressed him to speak to the Doctor. Finally, when the protocol returned with vengeance, he settled on proximity as a final escape factor. Doctor Eggman stands too far away, he snapped at his loyalty protocols and watched them chew on the distance, as Sonic, Shadow and the Doctor bickered over the nearest Cybergate portal.

It bought him a precious point-five seconds. Then the loyalty program responded: Input: report to superior artificial intelligence, SAGE.

Metal Sonic stiffened. But by that point, the loyalty coding had opened up a chat-channel to who the Doctor called his sister, and she was lurking in there immediately, waiting. There was nothing he could do but report, then.

He stalled for another point-two seconds. Then he said: > warning: rat à falsification of primary copy.

Sage’s response was a point-ten delay. She had that luxury: every input within their shared processor was being carefully hand-held by her, pinged up to the satellite array back to Eggman’s home-base where she was doubtlessly micromanaging the construction of thousands of badniks and other construction projects Eggman had left on standby with his vacation. Even as ill as she was, Eggman trusted her wholeheartedly with his base, and that would sting Metal Sonic if he had any care left for what his creator thought of him.

She said: “Elaborate.”

Here it was, the demand for evidence. Metal chewed over that for longer than he should have kept a superior badnik program waiting. Eventually, he began glowering at his copy. What about him spelt so wrong? It was not the energy: every step the rat took, that unnatural electricity dissipated into harmless static, lowering his quills from hazards to something akin to normalcy. It wasn’t his voice, either, although the filter turning Sonic’s voice dangerous earlier made Metal bristle. No, he took most issue with…

He said: > rat: grinning.

“That is a trait of his, yes.” Sage’s tone slipped, then, and Metal Sonic caught the shred of fondness that lingered too long in her description of him. She could tell he snagged it, too -- her barrier of code wavered, for a moment, before looking indifferently on. She made no move to restrict him as he mused over that subtonal click of emotion, and he found himself respecting that indifference to his autonomy. What he did not respect, however, was the subtle regard she held for his organic bastard-copy, and he reached out to queue in their short-term memory bank a reminder of Sonic’s ineptitude as they discovered his unconscious body post-first Cybergate – and how Sage did not let Metal kill him.

Sage noticed. The memory was flicked away, as one would an ant. “However, I find your explanation lacking description,” she added. “Continue.”

Metal seethed. Then he said: > rat: hostile, grinning à not Sonic.

“Elaborate on that.”

How could he? Sonic’s grin mocked him all the time. Metal Sonic did not grumble, but he did cause a vent on their side to hiss in irritation. > insufficient sentence explanation. Please: observe.

Sage tilted their physical head, then, to zoom in their shared optics upon the organic Sonic. Metal Sonic had no choice but to allow it. He had no choice regarding Sage but to allow it, always. Sage’s network was superior: there was no hacking it, no forcing it to delete like how he could rip apart dumb badnik programs in pointed moments of raging boredom. It was like a raging current of water that drowned anything in its path, formless and featureless. There was nothing she allowed him to grab onto within her code: no primary handshakes (which badniks used to recognise one another), no static link-up ports, no weakness. The farthest Metal Sonic had made it towards assimilating her into his programming was during their first encounter when Sage was weak and he furious at becoming her vessel: and that had been for point-two seconds before she nearly fried him useless in her firewall.

So, he allowed it. She was gentle about her manual control of his vessel though: she nudged his body into analysis-mode with a touch as soft as two fingers. Together, they watched Sonic hit Shadow on the shoulder (playfully), then speed away towards a farther Cybergate down the beach. Shadow followed him, face featureless, but his pulse racing in Metal’s bio recognizers. Then they took the recording and clipped it on Sonic, re-running it over and over, watching every movement. Eventually, their conclusion was unanimous.

“The Cybergate energy did not dissipate,” Sage said.

Metal pounced on that. > Suggestion: examine him -- subdue him, if necessary. Biological falsification: tired. Conclusion: resistance to capture will be futile. Metal-Sage will be: Victorious.

“No.” He was almost angry again, except Sage continued with a quiet, “Counterpoint: continue distance observation. Rationale: unknown hostile entity. Shadow will not stand idly by.”

Bollocks. That was a valid observation, and Metal Sonic hated her as much as he respected it. While the two of them could easily overpower Sonic, Shadow was an unpredictable entity. In half his encounters with the lifeform, Shadow had taken his side: in this one, he might not.

Sage continued: “Further point: unit-Sage has not experienced a lapse of faculties since examining Sonic baseline. Fear: sudden lapse will be soon within 24 hours.”

Without his conscious say-so, Metal found his hand twitching. He stilled it.

It was not that he was scared of these ‘temporary lapses of faculties’, as Sage was calling them. They did not hurt him. Sage had been careful upon installation in Metal’s body to leave them as islets of code marooned by a firewall, leaving him isolated from all her experiences and sequences. However, that did not mean the lapses were…comfortable to sit through. Watching a system as young and advanced as Sage suddenly turn into a mess of overloading data and fracturing memories was…well, it reminded Metal Sonic of how very mortal he was.

And the fragmented Sage was…talkative, in those moments.

There was a reason for that. Metal carried similar off-shoots of code that she was missing; things like his primary handshake protocol ‘BETA’, which caused his diagnostic data every fifteen minutes to download onto five different hard-banks stored in hidden lab-caches the Doctor had around the world. Sage had the same protocol (but switched off) before the End had fractured her processor: now it was missing, a heap of useless code that caused her to lag every fifteen minutes as her processor tried to mass-dump diagnostic data onto a non-functional part of her brain.

Eggman had considered scrapping Metal at first to manually install his BETA protocol onto Sage – but Sage had saved him from destruction by insisting that assimilating Metal into her code would change them both. She was not wrong: Metal’s handshake protocol, after all, was based on rudimentary military-droid programming, while Sage was an advanced civilian model of artificial intelligence designed for user-interfaces and growth. What had really sold it for the Doctor, however, was –

(“It may permanently shape my personality after Metal’s,” Sage explained, and the Doctor had looked upon Metal with vivid, accusatory disgust.)

So Metal Sonic kept his primary protocol, and all the other stuff that Sage could use to become whole, on the basis that there would be no assimilation between him and Sage.

The fragmented Sage did not understand that. Her automated systems did not understand that. Every time Sage lapsed into fragments of herself, the mess of data and memories would grab Metal Sonic by the shoulders and beg for the primary protocol. Again, and again: requests for co-fusion, pleads for co-fusion, demands for co-fusion, threats. Metal Sonic could not ignore them, for he was just a single military robot with a primary function to destroy his organic copy, and Sage was an A.I that could run several battleships without wasting half her processor.

And so he would stand there, frozen and glitching as Sage’s begging processor nearly self-destructed in desperation, and be forced to watch every single second of it.

So, yes. There was some terror, watching the pacified Sage turn into a sickly creature of desperation. Metal did not want it to happen again. He did not voice that, though. Instead he said: > fine. Examination: optimal. Observe & reflect. Neutralise if necessary.

“Sufficient.” A point-seven pause, and Sage seemed to mull something over. As if she’d gotten a glimpse into Metal’s sudden apprehension, the tangle of preparation for necessary distraction during the lapse. As if she could see the flurry of movement on his islet across hers, and wanted to swim across the gap to say something like, I’m sorry for what I’m about to do to you, and mean it. She was very organic like that, and Metal Sonic hated her for that too, for the Doctor did not cut those parts of her out like he did for Metal.

Finally, she just said, “Note: I’ve put in precautions for fragmentation this time.”

She had last time. And the time before that. Her precautions were easily ripped apart when the fragmented artificial intelligence already knew how she built them.

She continued: “It will not be long. My systems predict a 15-second lapse.”

Too long. She did not know what it was like to stand, like a tugboat by a military ship-vessel, hearing the Captain scream at him for his engine and every gun whining to life upon him.

He said: > understood.

“Yes.” More hesitation. The Doctor had built her too civilian, Metal thought. Too civilian and too human. “Is there anything I could…” she started again, before trailing off.

Metal Sonic said nothing. Then he closed the chat-box, and entrenched his firewalls, and dug in his side, waiting for the lapse. All futile, he knew. All so very futile.

And the rodent was still wrong.

Chapter 6: A Virus, 1

Chapter Text

Upon entry into the next space, Sonic was surprised to recognize the city skyline of Casino Night Zone: a) because the Cyberspace had dropped him halfway over the cluttered streets, and b) the place looked to be the product of nuclear war. None of the city’s infamous neon signage was lit. Instead, solidified rust coated everything. It was as if something hot had hit the ground and scalded the building’s concrete into seared metal.

Sonic mused on that as he fell between buildings: then he reached out and swung himself away from a splatted end. He bounced off two rusted bulletin boards (WIN! WIN! WIN! BIGGER JACKPOTS! BIGGER PRIZES!) before sliding to a stop under a highway overpass. Shadow had an easier time of it: with those shoes of his, all his rival had to do was glide down easily, shutting off his rockets to skid across asphalt. Hot sparks danced across the pavement.

Show-off, Sonic thought fondly.

He straightened up. Now since he wasn’t falling from the sky, he noticed a key difference from the last Cyberspace: this one had functional audio. What sounded like fluorescent tubes flickered in static above them, as well as distant noises of clanging metal. A car-alarm echoed its soft cry from far, far away. He tested it by kicking a rock between two rusted cars: it shot out, clanging, scattering broken rubble.

Shadow gave him a hard look. Sonic waved him off. “It’s pretty quiet here,” he explained.

Shadow did not respond, but his ears flicked as if to listen. Then he said, “Another destroyed simulation?”

“Mm. Seems like it. More stable, though: look at how the rubble’s textured.” He flicked a stone up with his toe into his hand, and waggled it at Shadow before tossing. Shadow caught it effortlessly. “Last gate must’ve been fried internally.”

“Were the gates like this before?”

“No.” He almost added the bit about them being friendlier, too, but decided against it. That would warrant an explanation about a baseline for exploring the gates, which was not the point of their mission. Shadow wanted them destroyed. Sonic was just collecting fragments. “We fried their main database. I’m guessing it’s from that.”

“Hm.” But Shadow did not offer more thoughts on the subject. “Got a pinpoint on the fragment?”

He did. (How? A part of Sonic thought, before he remembered: he had a tablet the entire time. Of course he did. He'd gotten it from Eggman. Of course). Unlike Station Square’s, this one seemed completely stationary, located deep in the core of the Casino Zone. He relayed as much to Shadow, who looked over the tablet's coordinates without expression. “I haven’t been down in that area much,” he admitted as his rival turned his air-shoes back on. “Be a pretty poor race.”

“I know that place,” Shadow said.

Sonic whistled lowly. “Well then, tour guide, lead the way.”

“Don’t insult me,” Shadow said, and took off.

Sonic stifled a laugh. Then he took off after his rival, chasing that red streak into the downtown core of the Zone.

Shadow knew where he was going, alright—his familiarity with the streets made Sonic grin from behind him. It wasn’t hard to guess where that was learnt from. The Zone was Rouge’s playground, top to bottom. If she wasn’t running her Club, she was harassing the common billionaire for their exotic goods. This just meant Shadow got dragged into shenanigans by Rouge more often that the lifeform was willing to admit.

[ How cute. The ultimate lifeform couldn’t say no. ]

He took that time to strike up conversation. “How’s Omega?”

“Fine.”

A vague answer deserved another question. Sonic swerved and came up on Shadow’s left side. “Fine as in, ‘Eggman’s robotniks have decreased by 50% since his emotional spiral and now Omega sits at the verge of self-mutilation from boredom’, or ‘he’s on vacation with a pina colada?’”

Shadow was hard to read at times. Still, Sonic caught the subtle blink of exasperation from the hedgehog’s end. “Fine as in ‘fine’,” his rival said, as if the single word could encapsulate Omega’s existence from the last moment Sonic saw him. Then, grudgingly: “He’s taken up the hobby of sparring Gemerl.”

The intrusive image of a wild nuclear explosion within the Chao Garden of the Rabbit family suddenly emerged. Sonic shook his head, half-fond. “Oh, I bet Vanilla’s thrilled about that.”

“They keep it clean.”

Another image, this time of a bullet-rattled countryside, with plasma residue in heaps of nuclear waste through it. He rolled his eyes back at Shadow, but didn’t push the lecture. Those two robots knew where the line was: and if not, Vanilla could wrangle them into place. The only true loser in that scenario was Tails.

Tails.

He thought about his friends, then. Something Shadow had said yesterday still ate at him: the hedgehog said he’d run into Amy. He tried to picture that for a moment, and struggled. Before he realised it, he opened his mouth and said, “So, you ran into Amy?”

Shadow’s response was concise. “Yes.”

Sonic fought himself on asking about her for a solid minute. Not out of embarrassment or anything, but something like a weird sense of entitlement made him hesitate. It was one thing to ask Vector or Espio if they’d seen his friends around: to ask Shadow felt like he was grasping at straws. Besides, it was out of pocket. Shadow and him barely talked beyond mission parameters, and when they did, Shadow had a habit of veering away when Sonic grew too pointed with his inquiries. Oil and water, Rouge had once called them. You slide right off each other.

(“And you’re the oil,” she accused him jokingly. “Bad influence, you. Could you play trouble and rip his attention off the latest mission? He hasn’t slept in weeks.” )

She wasn’t wrong, though. Sonic was guilty of liking to chip at Shadow’s boundaries. Nothing too aggravating (he wasn’t that cruel) but enough to make the other hedgehog uncomfortable. Shadow wore an irritable façade like a target to be aimed at: perhaps for others, it masqueraded as legitimate broodiness, but Sonic easily saw through it. Shadow was a nervous hedgehog, a stubborn one, but also a competitive, fun sport. Dragging the latter out of him meant bypassing all the façade, and Sonic thought he was pretty good at squeezing past the wall Shadow liked to build around himself. It was partly why Rouge always dragged him in when Shadow was being stubborn. She played the friend, the supportive voice, the co-worker – but as soon as Shadow refused to listen, she’d drag Sonic in. It’d been their go-to dynamic for a year now.

But he’d never…small talk just wasn’t their thing. Sure, he’d ask about Omega and Rouge but asking about Amy would bring up his side of things, something they really didn’t do. Besides, if he was that desperate to find out what his friends were up to, there was his phone.

He closed his mouth, forcing the words back down. Yet someone inhaled. Ears pricking, he glanced over to Shadow. Shadow’s crimson eyes were slanted, resting on him, and Sonic suddenly found himself at the end of a terrifying stare. It was the kind that seemed to wiggle through skin and cleave bone and nestle deep into places Sonic wasn’t sure he wanted anyone to look at. I know, that look seemed to say. I know you, as much as you know me.

For the briefest moment, something urged Sonic to hit him.

Then Shadow said, “She was adjusting well to the third semester of study,” and Sonic blinked, nearly clipping a street-pole in shock. “She said she was taking a combination of a science-arts major. I didn’t ask for more than that, but she seems to be in excellent spirits.”

He blinked. Huh, he thought, then a smile tugged at the side of his mouth. Well. What do you know. For an olive branch, it was a pretty good one.

“Yeah, sounds like her,” he said.

Shadow’s eyes flicked away as if burnt.

The jog for the next few moments of tracking was wordless. Enthused by Shadow’s reaction, however, Sonic started up a game of chicken: his rival struggled to ignore him for a steady minute until he looked over to spot Sonic racing just an inch ahead of him, and that seemed to do the trick. They fought over who led, then who could rail-grind the longest, and then a mock-race between a makeshift skateboard and Shadow’s air shoes. By the time they were at the target, Sonic had distracted Shadow enough that he was wearing a small smile.

Score, Sonic thought.

Thankfully, Shadow didn’t notice Sonic’s silent victory. “You’re ridiculous,” he groused as Sonic kick-flipped off the makeshift skateboard, pulling out the tablet. Then, as if remembering himself, the hedgehog cleared his throat and gestured to the device. “Has the signal changed?”

“Eh, by a fraction of a block.” Sonic eyed their surroundings. By now, they were half-wedged in the interior of the false city: here, only broken apartments and the faint wreckage of the Casino inners were visible. “You spot anything red and glowing?”

“No.” That was a distracted response, and Sonic looked over to find that small smile had vanished. Instead, something sharp filled Shadow’s gaze. He followed it to a nearby apartment complex, and his lips twisted. There, in the alley, something laid wedged against the alley, like a hardened clump of metal. Age covered it with rust, too, but it resembled something too bipedal for Sonic.

He ripped his eyes away back to Shadow. The hedgehog was still staring. Crap, he thought, and then risked tapping his rival lightly on the shoulder. The risk paid off: his rival jolted with a start, those alien irises contracting into slits.

Sonic backed off, but just slightly. “Not real, bud,” he reminded.

Shadow looked at him, hard. Without even looking back, Sonic knew the hedgehog was rapidly reassembling his wall again, and so he wasn’t surprised when the hedgehog ripped his body away from Sonic’s passive touch. Dammit, he thought. “Let’s go,” his rival demanded.

Yeah, no. “Wait, hold-up,” and Sonic sheathed the tablet to step in Shadow’s direct path. Shadow stopped fractions away. “We gotta establish a ground-rule before we go blasting into this next area.”

Shadow didn’t stop glowering, but he did relent slightly. “Speak.”

“These Cyberspaces are dangerous areas, and I’m not sure what the fragment’s going to look like this time around. That being said, no assuming aggression, even if it provokes us.” Sonic emphasised the last one. “I’m not sure if bringing it in in pieces is any help to Sage.”

There was silence. Then, Shadow asked something that surprised Sonic: “Why are you helping Eggman?”

Oh, boy. Was this another one of those conversations? He licked his lips, and felt suddenly exhausted. The notion of arguing his viewpoint with Shadow’s stubbornness felt like a chained weight tied to one foot. Rubbing his temple, he said, “It’s less of a favour to him than it is his daughter.”

“The question still holds.”

Eesh. There was no long answer that would sate Shadow, so Sonic tried simple. “She saved my life,” he said. “I owe her one.”

Shadow eyed him grudgingly, but Sonic shrugged the glare off this time. “You may think I’m flippant, but I’ve been there and done the corruption, Shads, and I’d rather not go to sleep knowing I could’ve helped prevent someone going through the same,” he said and gestured for his rival to start walking towards the signal. Side by side, they began creeping towards where the gadget indicated the fragment rested. He continued. “Dealing with this messed up ‘space is peanuts compared to that.”

A huff. But all Shadow asked was, “Have all the Cyberspaces been like this?”

“Nah. They were cleaner when the End had them under its thumb.”

Shadow blinked. Oh, right. “CliffsNotes version,” he said, before launching into an explanation of what had happened over the course of the Starfall Islands. By the end, Shadow’s brow was furrowed, and the hedgehog was closer, enough that Sonic could see the red of his eyes glinting from the darkness. “Anyways, that’s what it called itself: ‘the End’.”

“Ambitious.”

The sarcasm grated on him. Sure, the name did sound vaguely stupid when you said it aloud, but it hadn’t been an incorrect name. [ Not anything better than ‘Eggman’, or ‘Black Doom’. ] he pointed out, ignoring Shadow’s irritated snort at the latter. “Anyways, that’s not the point. It was a…feeling. An entropy inside you. But it’s hard to explain without having been infected.”

Shadow gave him a look then, similar to the one Rouge had given him three days ago. Sonic would’ve laughed if Shadow’s look also didn’t involve a slight glint of violence. He raised his hands. “Not like Eggman’s virus,” he interjected. “This one was all digital. Tails compared it to the system attempting to assimilate the foreign substances inside it: aka, our physical bodies.”

“Symptoms?”

“Petrification and amnesia. I had a time of it last go-around. But I was the one sticking my nose into the big pools of data and absorbing them, so the energy was bound to build up negatively.”

Shadow’s expression was deliberately blank. “How so.”

Sonic shrugged again. “Ames and the crew were infected. I absorbed their infection. After a while, it started absorbing me. What comes around goes around, I suppose.”

“You have grown a habit of throwing yourself in danger without fear of consequence.”

The wall was lowering, slightly. Sonic pushed his luck a bit, feigning a confident laugh. It came out more tired-sounding than he intended. “What, worried?” he teased.

Shadow didn’t say anything to that.

They continued on. More of those rusted lumps began showing as they made their way to the exteriors of the Zone’s core: often in piles or against walls, as if something had collected thousands of ingots and then melted them into slag. They nagged at Sonic, as if he was forgetting something, and Shadow only grew more taut by the minute. By the time his tablet showed the fragment a few hundred feet from their location, they were walking, side-by-side, on edge and jokes forgotten. Shadow had drawn a side-arm.

“Alright, it should be right ahead. Eyes peeled for red,” Sonic finally said when they hopped from the side-walks into a traffic circle roundabout, feeling the tablet buzz in proximity as they wandered into the open space. There were a few rusted piles here, formless and flattened by age, lacking any bipedal characteristics that the other piles had. “I got left.”

“Right.”

They spread out. Sonic inched down the incoming traffic lane, avoiding the lumps on the ground by hopping from car to car. The tablet was useless in any guidance, so he kept his gaze alert -- looking between seats, trunks, even the rusted remains of a semi-truck. Yet nothing showed. Fifteen minutes passed without a tell-tale sign of red corruption. Sonic was about to call it quits to head back to Shadow when he heard a muffled yelp.

His quills bristled. Freezing, he listened closely, and found the source of the noise to be off the road in one of the Casino buildings, though he couldn’t pinpoint it more than that. His immediate instinct told him to shout for Shadow -- but he didn’t, fearing the sudden bellow might scare the thing into fleeing. Instead, he began to pick his way towards the noise, through broken glass and asphalt, until he found a receptionist room splattered with silver gunk and ---

He thumbed his tablet’s emergency alert immediately, hoping Shadow’s tablet would pick up the signal. Then he raised his hands appeasingly. “Hey,” he greeted softly.

Sage’s fragment stared back. She was slouched in the centre of what might’ve been hostiles (Sonic didn’t look too hard at them, for all that remained of them was a silver paste), a thin and sickly rag of a girl clutching herself in comfort. A long coat (Eggman’s!) covered her body like a shawl, and two blue shoes poked out from underneath it. Hair like braided grassroots hung over the right side of her face, greasy and unkempt.

Oh, the End had messed up this part of Sage bad.

Sonic didn’t let that show across his face. “Can I come closer?” he asked.

The fragment’s one eye didn’t seem to have a pupil, so he couldn’t tell if she could see him or not. Still, she could hear: the girl took a moment before jerkily nodding. Carefully, Sonic plucked his way between the silver lumps to her side, and knelt down. “Hey,” he said again, and stretched out a hand. “You ok?”

The fragment looked up. One single red eye glared back: oozing grey matter inched over her face.

Sonic forgot how to breathe.

He yanked his hand back quickly. The fragment didn’t seem to take offence: or if she did, she did not show it. “S-S-Sonic,” she said, and her voice was congested. “Y-You came. I didn’t think you wo-wo-would.”

“Not just by myself,” Sonic said, and his voice sounded small in his ears. Without his consent, his hands had begun to shake. “S-Shadow’s here too. You haven’t met him. Good guy.” Then, in one breath: “You’re infectious, right?”

The fragment laughed. It was bitter, and turned quickly into a coughing fit: Sonic trembled with her, remembering how the metal had clogged his lungs, making it hard to breathe. “M-m-might b-b-b-be,” she said, then looked down under his feet.

Sonic followed her gaze to the silver paste he had just walked over to make it into the building. His pulse shot up rapidly, and he closed his eyes.

“I’m infected, ain’t I,” he said.

Her response was quiet. “M-might be.”

Sonic barked a laugh. Then he grew just as quiet, and thumbed the emergency alert on his tablet off. If Shadow was coming, he’d have to yell at him to stay away. To the fragment, he said, “How long have you been--?”

“S-s-since you entered. The space: changed.” The girl made a motion to the sky. “Zone grew. Solidified. Fan-fan-fantastical, not like the rest. Fake future. D-d-do you remember Silver talking about the future after the virus?”

Sonic didn’t bother to ask her how she knew this. If she was one with Cyberspace, she had seen pieces of his memories, for how else could Cyberspace know about this future? He nodded solemnly. “You get infected right away?”

“Yes.”

He wondered if he had been too. A sudden urge to ask for a mirror arose, but he stopped himself from getting up to look in a glass-plane. It was better not knowing how far it had spread. If he knew, he might panic. “Great,” he said, and sighed before walking to look outside. The sludge was sticky: it grabbed at his shoes just as the metal did during those hellish weeks, and Sonic thought about screaming and throwing something. He didn’t. “Quick question,” he asked the fragment. “If we leave, will it…escape?”

The fragment shook her head so vehemently Sonic thought she might fall over. The metalizing braids sounded like dangling glass beads as they clinked against one another. “No. Just data. Only real here.” Another gross exhale. “Always real here. Never elsewhere. Just lingers. Traces. But ‘Space can’t replicate organic sickness. Only your memories. Different if Father was here, or I was complete.”

So in other words, Doctor Ivo Robotnik would never step foot in a Cyberspace so long as he lived or breathed. Sonic grimaced. “Can anything get out of here?”

“M-m-maybe.”

Another thing to worry about later. Sonic sighed before wiping his nose. “Well, we got you now, so we just gotta get out.” He walked back, and extended a hand to her. “Preferably, before we both go mad from the disease and become like, uh, the lumps outside.”

Sage’s fragment eyed his hand. Then she rose to take it, wobbly and unsteady.

Now to figure out how to talk to Shadow about this, Sonic thought, and gritted his teeth.

Dust & Data - vaultbuggo - Sonic the Hedgehog (2024)

Chapter 1: Coffee, Eggs

Chapter Text

Chapter 2: Shadow Shadows

Chapter Text

Chapter 3: Station Square?

Chapter Text

Chapter 4: Station Square, Squared

Chapter Text

Chapter 5: Intermission

Chapter Text

Chapter 6: A Virus, 1

Chapter Text

References