#Sonic au fanfiction | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

twin-tailss · 18 days ago

Text

@sonic-au-collision

CIRCUIT BOARDS AU

BOOK 1, CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER SUMMARY:

Swift wakes up after being deprogrammed by Nine and remembers some things he’d rather forget.

FIRST - NEXT

READ BELOW! ⬇️ OR IN THE LINK ABOVE

TW: BODY HORROR, CHILD ABANDONMENT, CHILD NEGLECT, AND CHILD ABUSE. CONTINUE READING AT YOUR OWN RISK.

—————————————

When Swift came to once again it was slowly, not the usual jolting awakening every morning at six AM sharp. His breathing was even as he slowly opened his eyes. He could still hear the clacking. He turned over, watching the little fox for a few minutes.

“Are you quite done, or do I have to attempt to go to sleep once again when I’m no longer exhausted and disoriented?” He asked, trying to keep the snarl out of his voice. He didn’t need Nine to think he was too dangerous and decide to shut him off. His heartbeat sped up at the thought. That was… the closest to dying he could come to his knowledge. If he could die anymore, he would’ve done so immediately once the train plowed into him. His mechanical arm still ached from being scraped over the tracks. He was sure a lot of the paint had come off. God, he hated YHE council for what they had done to him. But still, they were all he had. The only people he knew wouldn’t abandon him anytime soon, if only because he was useful to them… at least for now.

Nine was silent for a long moment, his head tilting up to the ceiling in thought. “Yeah, I suppose I should take a break, shouldn’t I?” he says after another moment. Oh no, please work yourself to death. That would solve a lot of my problems. The dark thought bubbled up in Swifts mind. Guilt smashed into him like a wave. He hadn’t felt that since Mr. Doctor Eggman found him crying in his room when he was eight and decided to lock that feeling away, and it was quite shell-shocking for someone like him. Why did I think that about a five-year-old? I’m an awful, horrible person. A monster. And that's all I’ll ever be. His paws began to tremble as he realized he didn’t feel the same streak of a sick type of pride he usually felt at that train of thought.

Because even if he was a monster, he was that monster for a reason. That reason was serving the Chaos Council. If he couldn’t do that anymore… who was he? What was the reason he had done everything he had done? What was the reason he was sold to the doctor in the first place? Was it all for nothing? All the lives he had taken, all the ones he had ruined, all the crying mobians he had dragged into the egg-shaped capital by their fur? He had to stop thinking, now, before his thoughts got out of hand.

“It has been hours, after all.” the tiny two-tailed fox hops out of their chair, landing on the ground easily. The chair is too high for them. Does someone else live here, or is it just them?

“But how do I know you’re not going to try and go back there the moment I fall asleep? I can’t let you do that. Whether you understand it or not, that place is bad for you.” He barked out a laugh before realizing what had just happened and clapping his hand over his mouth. He wasn’t supposed to be able to laugh. Everything was wrong. Things weren’t fitting right anymore. The world wasn’t simple anymore. And it was all because of that goddamned fox. He leveled a glare at them as they watched him, waiting for his response.

“And being hit with a train is good for me, I assume?” he hissed out through gritted teeth, glaring at the child. The other met his gaze challengingly, the seven metal tails attached to his back lifting just slightly. Reacting to his aggression, he assumed.

“In most situations, I would say no. But this is not a normal situation.” Swift scoffed, but Nine barreled on anyway. “You’re a cyborg. They mutilated your body and mind, forming it into what they liked, most likely without your consent or at the very least without your informed consent. It’s awful what they did to you, and because you got hit by that train, you don’t have to go through any more trauma at their hands. And, whilst I can’t fix what they did to your body I can fix what they did to your brain, whether or not you consider it fixing.”

He clenched his fist and unclenched it, glaring at the fox. He didn’t argue against him. The damage had already been done. Big chunks of his code were gone, and he doubted the fox was going to just let him waltz free after he ‘fixed’ him. Was the fox delusional? He seemed to be, at least. Or some form of insane.

The Council will catch him, and then they’ll bring me back. They’ll remake my code, and I’ll be exactly the same as I’ve always been. He reassured himself. It wasn't all that reassuring- he hated the Council for what they had done to him- but it was at least slightly reassuring. He needed the code. It felt as if he needed to even breathe, to think. He depended on it to tell him what to do. He wouldn’t feel this awful, overpowering emotion that seemed to cling to all the edges of his brain and memories like mildew, turning them green and blue around the edges from disgust and sadness.

“I don’t need fixing. I’m fine the way I am.” He growled out. Nine sighed, sitting beside him. He wanted to recoil away, but for some reason, he didn’t. Nine reached out and placed a paw over his metal one, cold to the touch. He was trying to comfort him. Something in Swift’s icy heart cracked and ached.

He shifted his fiery glare to the ground. Frustration, sadness, anger, guilt, and shame slammed around inside his chest, warring within him. He had failed his mission. It wasn’t the first time he had failed, yes, but this was the worst by far. He would be punished for it once he got back to where he was supposed to be. He knew he would.

At least for now, he felt overwhelming guilt over everything they had made him do to others. He felt awfully sad that this five-year-old child, who had been abandoned at a young age, was the one who was attempting to give him comfort instead of the other way around. Especially because of the fact that in the eventuality Nine was captured, he was not going to be given a choice to submit. Now he would be seen as too dangerous because of him managing to hack Swift. Swift would also probably be the one made to execute the poor kid. How would Nine feel when it happened?

He felt frustrated and angry that either of them were even in this situation in the first place, in more ways than one. A five-year-old shouldn’t be executed for not fitting into the norm. Nobody should. Nobody should have to live in a world like this. A world torn to the ground. A world he helped tear to the ground, willingly or not. Plus, this- the child leaning on him, his breathing evening out as he drifted into unconsciousness- shouldn’t be happening. He should be back in the capital, preparing for his next mission and not worrying about the fate of a child who had tricked and kidnapped him and had been messing around in his mind for the past several hours. The kid should already have been long forgotten by him, walking straight into whatever new life the council had planned for him.

But now Swift was here. And he would, beyond doubt, be involved in whatever this kid was involved in that made the council send Swift to look for him instead of just some simple eggforcers. Once Swift was taken back to the capital, he would surely be punished severely for his failure.

Swift was startled out of his thoughts when the child shuffled closer, practically clinging to his metal arm as if it was a beloved teddy bear. As if he was a normal child. Swift sighed as he watched the child for a while, their tiny chest moving up and down in an easy, soft rhythm, their brow slightly furrowed in their sleep.

He was going to end up quite attached to the little one, wasn’t he?

—————————————————————————

It had been a week since Nine had tricked him and taken him. The coding was almost all gone. Swift felt… better and worse at the same time. He felt as if there weren’t chains dragging him down for once, but he didn’t know how to feel about that. The chains had told him how to think, and to feel, and now that they were gone everything was muddled and confusing. Also, there was the unbearable guilt. He logically knew it wasn’t his fault but the heavy guilt still clung to his body and mind like honey when he remembered the feeling of bones crunching underneath his feet as they screamed. It had once been so satisfying to him. Before all he could think of was how satisfying it was to finish his mission, how proud the council was going to be of him. Now all he could think of was how much pain the poor person had to have been in. Because of him. The guilt was the worst part of it. It dragged him down and made him wish he was already six feet under the ground so he would never be able to hurt anyone else.

He was lying on the ground, waiting for Nine to get it over with- to take away the last bit of his programming. He had been working around the whole memory portion for days. He had decided around the third day here that he was never going to leave if he had a say in it. Which honestly, he probably wouldn’t knowing his luck.

“Are you sure you’re ready?” Nine's voice seemed to echo across the train station control room he had made his own from his place at the computer, despite how quietly he said it. It rang with an awful finality. He had been staring at the same line of code for around thirty minutes, but it had felt more like hours of nothing but agonizing silence to Swift.

“I’ve been ready for at least the last two hours.” Swift snapped back irritably. Exhaustion was weighing down his bones, and he had no clue why. He had slept just as much as he had back in the capital, though he, of course, didn’t eat as much. He had even been getting less physical activity! Maybe having your brain freed from an evil dictator after eight years of being nothing but his little plaything took more out of him than he had originally assumed it would. “Get it over with. Waiting for it will probably be worse than actually doing it.”

Nine closed his eyes, taking a deep breath before pressing the delete button, and suddenly Swift was thrown violently out of who he was now, and into...

—————————————————————————

He was small, and so, so afraid. He clung to his father's leg as he looked up at the towering man with a large mustache scrutinizing him with wide, terrified eyes. He was shaking like a leaf as the man scrutinized him. He felt pinned down and vulnerable because of his icy stare- as if this man knew everything about him and was still looking for more.

“2000.” the man spoke. “Take it or leave it.” his father’s eyes lit up and a grin spread across his face. Swift trembled, burying his face in his father's leg. His tiny paws clutched at the presence he found the most comforting at the moment. Surely they wouldn’t actually sell him to a man who was so clearly evil and horrible for that little money… right? He was a good kid, he didn’t deserve this. He was nice to everyone and protected other kids from bullies, and he listened to everything they told him. They wouldn’t. They couldn’t do that. This kind of thing didn’t happen to kids like him.

“2000? You’re giving us 2000 for taking this mutant runt off our hands? Absolutely!” His fathers voice was like an icicle through his heart. He sounded delighted to be rid of him. Swift whimpered, one of the tears he had been fighting so hard to keep back streaking down his cheek. They… they didn’t care about him, did they? No one did. Nobody cared about him. Nobody had ever cared about him, because he was nothing but a useless runt and that was all he would ever be.

His father placed one hand on his back and shoved him towards the man. He looked up at him, his eyes wide with fear. They were at least five times his size, taller than his lanky father. His ears pinned back against his head and he swallowed heavily.

They reached out, placing their hand on his head and forcefully guided him to their side. A choked sob wracked his little body. He wrapped his arms around himself, ducking his head as he tried to silence his sobs. His heart ached. He had never felt smaller or more alone in his life, not even when his parents had abandoned him in the woods for a week. The hand on his head fluffed up his quills for a moment before leaving. He glanced up at the man, shrinking a little more as he pulled in on himself.

He watched as the man with the mustache gave his parents a check for 2000. They grabbed his hand and led him away with them. Swift knew better than to try to escape. His parents had told him it would only get him killed, and he knew they were right since the moment he had seen the way the man’s eyes gleamed.

Swift’s eyes slid shut, tears streaking down his cheeks. His parents had abandoned him again. They had sold him, just to get rid of him, because he was nothing but a troublesome runt. And now he was stuck with a man who would do god knows what to him. They hadn’t asked. They didn’t care.

Nobody did.

—————————————————————————

“Stop!” he cried, trying to squirm away from the things prodding and prying at him, peeling back some of his skin, pulling out quill by quill. “Stop, stop, it hurts, please, I can’t- I can’t-” he sobbed, shaking. Everything hurt so much. He didn’t know why they were doing this, they had been nice to him since he got here a month ago, was he always planning this or had Swift done something wrong? He was sorry, he was so, so sorry-

“Stop struggling,” Eggman growled out, glaring at him from his place behind a screen. “You’ll only make it worse on yourself. You’ll be asleep soon anyway.” Swift let out a pained shriek as it started replacing his nerves with wires and his bones with metal. The pain was like nothing he had ever felt before. It felt as if he was burning from the inside out and he writhed. He couldn’t think. Blood gushed from his arm onto the table as chunks of meat and flesh were pulled out. “And once we’re finished, you’ll be perfect.”

His vision blacked out at the edges as the pain began to get too much for him to stay concious, his head swimming with agony.

Am I going to die?

—————————————————————————

Swift looked at himself in the mirror, unable to tear his eyes away from the new mechanical parts. His lower lip trembled, his eyes filling with tears. He looked wrong. He hated it. A hand carded through the quills on his head in a way that was supposed to be soothing.

“Do you like it?” Eggman asked, running a hand through the fur on his head. He whimpered, shaking his head. He hated it. He didn’t want this. His arm still ached, and he didn’t get the why of why the doctor had done this. He had begun to think that maybe, just maybe, he might care about him, but now he could so obviously see that he never had.

“What did you do to me?” he whispered. He couldn’t seem to make his voice louder. He was shaking. Eggman's smile became just a little thinner at the edges. It didn't reach his eyes.

“I made you perfect, Swift. I made you useful, just as I always planned.” he said easily, as if he hadn’t just mutilated Swift’s body without him having any say in it. “And now, once the plan goes into action, you can help me make everything perfect. Wouldn’t you like that? They all abandoned you, Swift. They hated you for being different. Your own parents sold you. I’m the only one who truly accepts you. Who knows you. Who cares about you. Because of that, you owe me your loyalty. And they deserve your rage. Your vengeance for all they put you through when all you ever tried to do is-”

“N-No. If this is what you consider perfect, then I hate perfect, a-and I hate you! I’m not going to help you. I refuse.” Swift made himself work up the bravery to glare at him, taking a step away from him and closer to the mirror. His little body was trembling. The blood in Swift’s veins turned to ice the moment Eggman’s smile dropped.

Eggman grabbed him before he could run, his hand wrapping around his throat. He pulled him up the wall easily, pain shooting throughout him as Eggman brought the five-year-old to eye level.

“Now you listen to me, you ungrateful brat.” he seethed. Swift’s eyes were wide, and his heart was slamming into his ribcage. His pupils shrunk with fear, his ears pinning back against his head. “You’re going to obey me, or I’m going to take away any free will you have left and make you. You’re going to help me turn the world into the perfect one I see, whether you like it or not. And you’re also going to help me keep it that way.”

“Okay, I’m sorry, I'm sorry, please don’t hurt me, I’m so sorry-” he sobbed out, shaking, Eggman’s smile came back, and he placed him down on the bed.

“Good boy. I don’t want to hurt you any more than you want me to hurt you, so don’t make me hurt you, okay?”

“O-okay, okay.”

—————————————————————————

Swift stared down at the mobian that was tied up, waiting for his execution. His execution that was supposed to be at Swift's hands. Swift couldn’t move. He was frozen. He didn’t want to do this. He was only eight years old. He didn’t wanna hurt anybody, he never wanted to hurt anybody, why were they going to make him hurt someone?

“Swift, what are you waiting for?” Mr. Doctor Eggman, the first Eggman, practically growled out. He flinched, but he could still barely move. He was afraid. He was so, so terrified.

“Do you want me to make you?” he saw out of the corner of his eye Mr. Doctor Eggman standing up. He started to tremble as he approached. He grabbed his mechanical arm, pointing it at the prisoner. The prisoner smiled up at him in a way that was supposed to be comforting.

“Hey, kid.” they spoke. “Don’t worry. This is a mercy. At least I’ll die fast. And it’s not your fault, alright? Remember that.” Swift whimpered, turning his face away. The tears that had been threatening to fall for a long time now began to spill.

He felt the laser powering up. He closed his eyes as it went off, splattering both him and Mr. Doctor Eggman. He hissed, glowering down at the child. “Now look at what you’ve done. You’ve got blood all over my favorite coat. There wouldn’t be a mess right now if you weren’t such a failure.”

"I'm s-sorry, I’m sorry!” Swift wasn’t sure if he was talking to Mr. Dr. Eggman or the person who had just died by his very own hands. That terrified him.

"You should be, you pathetic worm. I didn't pay 2000 for you just for you to freeze up when you have to kill somebody. But there there- I’ll forgive you. Because I care about you. I’m the only one who does.”

4 notes · View notes

sonicboomrevisited · 2 months ago

Text

A Sonic Boom Revisited Short Story:

"I'll Be Home for Christmas"

Written by @mama-qwerty with editing and inspiration from @multiisketch

Art by @multiisketch

Colors by @star-stages and @multiisketch

NOTE: This story is NON-CANON to the SBR comic itself and is purely for holiday fun! Please Enjoy!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Twas the morning before Christmas and all through the lair, not a creature was stirring, not even–

"An eclair!" Cubot said, in an enthusiastic mood.

Orbot protested. "An elcair's not a creature, it's food!"

"Exactly!” said Cubot, hands on his hips. “That's why it ain't stirrin!"

Orbot scoffed. “Oh enough with your quips.”

The stockings were hung by the exhaust port with care, in hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be–

"Married!" Cubot shouted, sounding quite proud.

"Santa’s already married, for crying out loud.” Orbot sighed and shook his head in frustration. “Can you please be quiet and allow the narration?”

Quite. Anyway... the robots were nestled and charging in stations, while visions of sugar plums danc’d in their processing units.

"Hey," Cubot said, the word dragging out long. “Those words don’t rhyme, you’re doing it wrong!"

Rhyming is hard, and not something that’s forced. So you’ll deal with my attempts, for better or worst.

The robots went silent, exchanging a look. It always seemed easy when reading the book. They returned to the tinsel hanging duties assigned, when in walked the dastardly Robo-Sonic, his boss close behind.

"I just don't understand, truly at all, why those rodents won’t fight!" said Dr. Eggman, standing tall.

“Because they’re losers who know they won’t win,” Robo-Sonic said, his voice confident, and edged with a grin. “Seriously, Boss, it’s the smartest thing they’ve done. Why would they fight when they know that we’ve won?”

“It’s the principle!” Eggman shouted, his hands clenched in fists. “If they won’t fight, then I won’t . . . won’t . . .”

He threw his hands up. “Ya know what? I’m not doing this rhyming thing. Nope.”

But–

“NO.” Eggman crossed his arms, his lips pulled into a tight line.

How are we gonna tell a Christmas story without that well known rhyming couplet setup?

“Much better, because we won’t be locked into short little oddly worded sentences for the sake of rhyming.”

Ouch.

“Go on,” Eggman said, giving his hand a dismissive flick. “Just let it flow naturally.”

Fine.

“Oh come now, don’t pout.”

I’m not pouting.

“Then go ‘not pout’ somewhere else so we can get on with things.”

“Geez, Boss,” Cubot said, shaking his head. “That’s not very Christmas-y.”

“Quiet down, you imbecile, or I’ll remove your head.”

“That rhymed,” Orbot said with a shrug. “Although you technically rhymed ‘head’ with ‘head’.”

“Nevermind!” Eggman said, moving to his console and flicking some switches. The monitor along the back wall flared to life and scenes from the village dominated the screen. “As I was saying, if those rodents won’t fight me, I won’t get a good workout for my various inventions.”

Robo-Sonic turned to him. “So?”

“So, fighting so-called heroes is the best way for villains to work the kinks out of their dastardly plans and evil robots. It’s the first thing they teach you in villain college.” He turned suddenly, his voice edged with defensive anger. “Which I totally graduated from, thank you very much.”

Robo-Sonic flicked his ocular LEDs toward the ceiling. “Okay, so why won’t they fight? Other than the obvious reason that they’ll lose, I mean.”

Eggman tapped a few places on his control panel and twisted a dial. “I don’t know. But we’ll find out soon enough.

The screen flickered and centered on Meh Burger where Amy, Tails, Knuckles, and Sticks sat at a table.

“Are we still going to your place for Christmas Eve, Amy?” Tails asked. He poked at his burger. “It may be a good way to take our minds off . . . you know.”

“The fact that Sonic’s been turned into a glorified Eggman bot who hates us and wants to pound us into the dirt?” Knuckles asked, his voice low and frustrated. The others looked at him, their expressions a combination of annoyed and hurt. “What? I’m just summing it up in case you forgot.”

“We didn’t.” Tails’ ears flicked backward, and he looked away.

Knuckles seemed to sense he’d really stepped in it, and turned his attention back to his half-eaten burger. He let out a sigh, his shoulders dropping. “Right. Right. Sorry.”

“I don’t know if I should bother this year. It won’t be the same without Sonic,” Amy said, pushing her burger away and resting her crossed arms on the table. “We always baked cookies together.” A little smile curled her lips. “When he wasn’t trying to eat the batter, that is.”

“We’d always make popcorn strands,” Knuckles said, shaking his head with a smile. “That was a lot of fun.”

“Yeah.” Tails pushed his burger away, fiddling with his gloves. “We would trim the tree together. The lights were always my favorite part, and every year we’d fight over who put the star on top.” His ears flicked back. “This year was his turn.”

Silence fell over the group. Sticks looked between the others.

“Well I say we don’t let this get us down!” she said, pounding her fists on the table. “I say we get together and have the best Christmas Eve ever! We’ll show that Eggman and his new little robot henchman that they can’t stifle our spirits!”

She turned directly toward the camera filming them and shook her fist.

“YA HEAR THAT, YOU BIG CLOD! WE AIN’T BENDING!”

In the lair, Eggman let out a little yelp before cutting the feed, the screen going black. “That badger’s pretty astute for someone who thinks her doorknobs are alien spies.”

“Who’s she calling a henchman?” Robo-Sonic said, hands clenching into fists.

Eggman absently rubbed his chin with a hand. “Quiet, you.”

“Yes, Boss.”

Eggman’s brow furrowed slightly as he paced back and forth before the console. “Hmm . . . so the rodents are feeling all sad because their little blue rat is now my number two. That sadness is preventing them from really bringing their A-game during battles with me.”

“Perhaps you could offer to return Robo-Sonic to them for Christmas Eve,” Orbot suggested, hovering closer. “That way they can feel more motivated to fight when next you appear.”

Eggman whirled on him. “Are you insane? You’re suggesting I simply give Robo-Sonic over to those insipid rodents? All because they miss him so much?”

Orbot flinched back, as Robo-Sonic looked on, shaking his head.

“Oh, I know!” Eggman said, holding a finger up. “Maybe I’ll be a gracious arch-nemesis and offer to let Robo-Sonic fraternise with them for Christmas Eve, just to refuel the hope of getting their friend back and reignite that fighting spirit, before dashing their misplaced hopes to bits during my next attack! Ho ho, that is brilliant!”

“Yes, sir, very clever,” Orbot said with a sigh.

“Hey now,” Robo-Sonic said, hands on hips. “Who says I want to go back and ‘fraternise’ with those losers?”

Eggman turned to him, brows furrowed. “You’ll go and you’ll play nice. Because while you’re there you’re going to collect any information you can on weaknesses–other than you, of course–or soft spots I can use to my advantage in future battles.”

Robo-Sonic threw his hands up in exasperation. “But I already know their weaknesses and soft spots! I can tell you that right now!”

Eggman held up a hand. “Upp upp upp! Everyone knows that Christmas is when people show their softer sides and reveal hidden thoughts and desires no one knows the rest of the year. It goes hand in hand with Christmas miracles, holiday spirit and putting differences aside to show that not everyone’s all bad and all that touchy feely stuff.”

The doctor went to his desk, yanked open a drawer, and fished around for a moment before pulling out a crumpled card. He scribbled something inside, stuffed it into an envelope, and stepped over to slap it onto Robo-Sonic’s hands.

“There you are,” he said, patting the robot on the top of his rocket booster. “Off you go. Spread holiday cheer with your ex-friends, and then come back here and dish on the gossip you learn.”

Robo-Sonic heaved the robot equivalent of a sigh, before turning and heading toward the door.

“OH WAIT!”

He turned back to see Eggman digging through another drawer, before pulling something out and rushing over to him. The doctor slapped a gift sticker right above Robo-Sonic’s visor and adjusted a Santa hat on top of his head.

“There!” Eggman said, stepping back and perching his hands on his hips. “Ooh, you look so festive!” He waved in a dismissive manner. “Okay, get outta here. Go be merry and trim the tinsel and ginger the bread or whatever it is you people do during the holidays. Shoo!”

With an electronic groan, Robo-Sonic turned and drudged away.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Screams drew Amy from her book, and she hurried out of her house, hammer in hand. The chatter from her communicator indicated the others were on their way to investigate the trouble, too.

She hoped it wasn’t Eggman. While she never liked fighting Eggman in the past, at least it had been a little fun. Now it was painful. Seeing what the man had done to Sonic hurt her heart. And she couldn’t bring herself to hurt him, even if he was a robot now, and had no qualms on hurting them.

And, based on how lackluster the fights were when Eggman did attack, the others felt the same way.

As she neared the center of the village–seriously, everything always seemed to happen right in the middle of town–she found the chaos somewhat comforting. It was familiar and a good fight with the Lightning Bolt Society, or Barker, or even Shadow may help dissipate some of the anxiety that had twisted her stomach since Sonic changed.

When the fleeing villagers scattered, she skidded to a halt.

Sonic was standing in the middle of the town, arms crossed, and wearing a . . . Santa hat?

A quick flick of her eyes caught no sign of Eggman himself or any other attacking robots. Sonic–Robo-Sonic, she reminded herself–stood with his back to her, tapping his foot in that familiar impatient way that always made him look like he was waiting for a bus that was fifteen minutes late.

“Amy!”

Knuckles’ voice called out. Both she and Robo-Sonic turned to see him rushing over to her. He stopped a step in front of her, taking up a defensive stance, fists at the ready.

“Where’s Eggman?” the echidna asked, his brow furrowed and voice uncharacteristically serious. He didn’t like fighting Son–ROBO-Sonic any more than Amy did, and preferred to head straight for the doctor when attacks happened.

The quicker they took out the doc, the quicker he retreated and took the robot version of their friend with him.

“I don’t know,” she said, gripping her hammer tightly. “All I see is him.”

Tails and Sticks arrived soon after, each wearing similar expressions of confusion.

“This isn’t like Eggman,” Tails said, holding his wrench before him like a staff. “He doesn’t usually send robots without being there himself to gloat and claim early victories.”

“Finally,” Robo-Sonic said, rolling his head back in a familiar expression of exasperation. “You’re all here. Cripes, take a little longer, why don’tcha. It’s not like I can die of old age or anything.”

“What do you want?” Knuckles all but growled, baring his fangs. “It’s Christmas Eve. Can’t you take the holidays off from being a jerk?”

Robo-Sonic mostly ignored him and stalked forward. Knuckles threw an arm out, keeping Amy back. When the robot hedgehog stopped before them, he reached into his metal quills and pulled out an envelope. He thrust it forward, toward Amy, and Knuckles tensed.

Everything seemed to stop in that moment. Amy flicked her eyes from Robo-Sonic’s ocular visor, to the little gift sticker attached to his forehead, right below the brim of the Santa hat. Instead of a “To” and “From” note, it bore Eggman’s logo, as if he’d branded the robot before sending him to the village.

Her eyes then dropped to the envelope in his hand. When she made no move to reach for it, Robo-Sonic uttered what sounded like a sigh.

“Just take it, Ames.”

She flinched at the familiar nickname coming from a digital voice box. After a moment, she gently pushed Knuckles’ arm to the side, and plucked the envelope from Robo-Sonic’s hand. Keeping her eyes on the robotic hedgehog, she tore it open, before looking down as she pulled a battered card from the paper.

The front showed an image of Eggman dressed in a Santa suit, Cubot and Orbot beside him with little antlers on their heads. He had a large sack thrown over his shoulder. Above him read “Evil Season’s Greetings!”

She rolled her eyes.

Inside, she found a handwritten note, undoubtedly from Eggman himself.

"Dear Rodents,

Since you insist on being frustratingly avoidant when fighting my newest bestie Robo-Sonic, I have deemed it acceptable to allow him to be returned to you for 24 hours. Make it count and bring your A-Game to the next fight! Happy Holidays!

Love, Dr. Eggman."

Amy reread the note three times, before flicking her eyes back up to Robo-Sonic. He stood with his arms crossed and he, and Knuckles who also stood with his arms crossed, seemed to be having a glaring contest.

“So, wait,” she said, drawing their attention. “You’re here to spend Christmas Eve with us?”

Robo-Sonic heaved an electronic sigh. “Apparently.”

Amy exchanged a look with Tails.

“You don’t actually expect us to believe this, do you?” the fox said, hands on hips. “Like we’re supposed to just throw our arms open and pretend like everything’s normal?”

“I think he’s here to spy on us,” Sticks said, eyes narrowed and flicking back and forth. “He’s here to discover our deepest secrets, our hidden hopes and dreams!”

“Not my eggnog recipe!” Knuckles cried, hands to the side of his head.

“Knuckles, that’s just milk and eggs, mostly,” Amy said with a sigh.

He cast her a raised eyebrow. “Eggs?”

“Nevermind.”

“Look,” Robo-Sonic said, holding his hands up. “As stimulating as this conversation is, I don’t wanna be here any more than you want me here. But the boss said you get me for 24 hours and the clock’s ticking, so, whatever you wanna do with that time is on your head. If you want to just stand here and argue about it, be my guest.”

The group exchanged looks again. Amy gave him a tight little smile.

“‘Scuse us for a minute.”

She motioned for the others to follow her a few feet away, and lowered into a huddle.

“This is a trick,” Knuckles said, looking over his shoulder toward Robo-Sonic. “No way he’s not here for evil reasons.”

“I hate to admit it, but I agree,” Tails said, shaking his head. “Sonic’s not our friend anymore. As much as I want to believe he’s here because he wants to be, I think this is some kind of trap.”

“Of course it’s a trap!” Sticks said, gripping her boomerang tightly. “It’s obvious he’s here to steal our Christmas spirit, and maybe even all our decorations and presents and even our last can of Who Hash!”

Tails gave her a raised eyebrow. “Our what?”

“Nothin’.” Sticks narrowed her eyes, looking around suspiciously. “I’ve said too much.”

“Okay, look,” Amy said, drawing their attention. “I don’t think he’s here of his own free will either. But maybe we can use this to our advantage. If we do things we used to do with Sonic on past Christmases, maybe he’ll remember who he really is and come back to us!”

Tails shot a look over at Robo-Sonic, who was giving the evil eye . . . well, evil LED to any villagers who came too near. “I dunno, Amy . . .”

“C’mon Tails, we have to try.”

The others looked at her before exchanging a glance between themselves. Finally, they turned back and nodded. Although, they didn’t look very happy or sure about it.

She didn’t care. If there was a chance to get her . . . their Sonic back, she’d take it. As slim as it was.

She nodded back, before standing upright and moving toward the robot hedgehog once again. Knuckles was right next to her. She could feel how tense he was.

“Okay, Son–I mean, Robo-Sonic,” she said, stopping with her hands on her hips. “If you’re gonna be here, there are going to be a few rules.” She counted off on her fingers. “Rule number one, no fighting. Rule number two, no insulting us. Rule number three, you have to actually participate and not simply sit and sulk the whole time.”

His ocular LEDs narrowed for a moment. “And if I refuse these stupid rules?”

Amy shrugged. “Then we’ll just send you back to Eggman’s. You’ll have failed your mission and ruined Christmas for your new ‘boss’.”

He stood and glared at her for a long moment, before rolling his head to the side. “Fine.”

A smile curled her lips. “Good.” She clapped her hands together, giving a little squeal of excitement. “Oh, this will be fun!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was not, in fact, ‘fun’.

It had been hours. Hours of trying to have a normal Christmas Eve.

They’d all gathered at Amy’s house, as they did every year. She hadn’t been in a very festive mood after everything that had happened with Sonic, so the house wasn’t as decorated as she normally did. Knuckles and Sticks had helped pull her decorations out of storage, working to create a more appropriate holiday atmosphere, as Tails set about trimming the tree.

Supper was awkward. She’d made everyone’s favorite. Even the sweet potato chili dogs Sonic liked. But, being a robot now, he couldn’t eat them.

Okay, no problem, she could work around that.

But he spent the entire time glaring at Knuckles, who glared right back. Amy had shot the echidna a warning glance, and he’d sheepishly turned his eyes away, but the mood had been set.

After supper, she cleaned up the dishes as Tails helped Knuckles make popcorn for this year’s garlands. With a little coaxing, Amy had encouraged Knuckles to try and follow his tradition with Robo-Sonic.

It didn’t go well.

Robo-Sonic couldn’t string the popcorn before his metal fingers crushed the kernels. After five minutes, the floor around him was littered with broken bits of popcorn. Knuckles, for his part, tried to extend a hand of friendship, so to speak, citing that he knew what it was like to deal with more strength than you need most of the time. He tried to help Robo-Sonic pull it back so he could work with the popcorn without crushing it.

Things only went further south when Robo-Sonic revealed, in a fit of frustration stemming from the continued crunching of the kernels, that he never liked making the garlands–a waste of perfectly good popcorn, he claimed–and only did it so Knuckles wouldn’t look like an idiot doing it by himself.

The echidna gasped, eyes wide, before running from the room in tears. “Not cool, Robo-Sonic!”

Sticks fared a little better. She was always suspicious of wrapped presents–”You don’t know what’s inside! It’s not safe!”--so Robo-Sonic used his scanners to examine every one. He announced, loudly, what each box contained. This soothed the badger’s suspicions, until he announced what the gifts she’d brought held.

“Those boxes were supposed to be lead lined! X-ray proof! So’s the aliens couldn’t see what I got and report my preferences and kindness to their leaders, taking me hostage when they come to rule!”

And off she went, presumably to find whomever had sold her the supposedly impervious boxes, and deal some angry feral badger damage to them.

Tails was hit worst. He had brought the tree decorations, and hoped to have his and Sonic’s tradition at least somewhat salvaged. It started okay, but when it was time to put the lights up, Robo-Sonic took them from the fox and wrapped them around the tree in three seconds flat.

“Oh,” Tails said, ears flicking back. “We usually do that together.”

Robo-Sonic shrugged. “It’s not exactly a two-man job, kid. It’s done, now.”

“Right.” Tails reached across himself to tightly grip his arm. “G-good job.”

The fox quietly left soon after.

That left Amy.

She tried. She really did.

She pulled out the ingredients for the cookies she and Sonic baked every year. But there was no laughter as they mixed the ingredients together. No trying to keep him from dipping his fingers into the batter. No slapping his hands away as she tried to roll out the dough.

Robo-Sonic was focused and efficient. The cookies went in without issue.

“You’re really not him anymore, are you?” she asked, her voice soft.

He turned to her, crossing his arms over his chest. “I’m better.”

She sighed, her shoulders slumping. “No. No you’re not.”

Amy turned, hoping to be out of the house before the first tears fell.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Robo-Sonic watched her leave, just like all the others had left.

He didn’t care. The less he had to deal with these losers, the better. He was only here because Eggman practically ordered him to be. He wasn’t enjoying this. He didn’t care about these stupid traditions and little holiday scenes the others insisted on.

He should leave. They all left, so apparently they didn’t care if he was here or not. He should just go back to Eggman’s lair, tell him the mission was a failure because these rodents couldn’t accept that he wasn’t the weak loser they remembered. They’d have a good laugh at the overly sentimental nature of these fools and that would be that.

He took a few steps toward the door, intending to do just that.

Then he stopped.

Turned and watched the oven timer tick down.

Less than ten minutes before the cookies were done. There was no one else in the house. He had no idea when they’d be back.

If he left and they didn’t return for a long time after, the cookies would burn.

The house might burn.

If these losers wouldn’t give him a decent fight because they were ‘sad’ about his change (his improvement), then they certainly wouldn’t be up for any challenging battles should Amy’s house burn down on Christmas Eve.

He could wait ten minutes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“This is worse than when we thought he was gone,” Tails said, curling his namesakes around himself. He let out a long sigh. “This feels like a cruel joke.”

The group had met up near Sonic’s old shack. Knuckles stood with his back to the porch post, arms crossed. Tails sat on the front steps, staring out into the ocean as the waves licked the beach below. Sticks sat on the ground nearby, legs crossed beneath her, an angry pout on her face.

And Amy stood a little apart from them, staring into Sonic’s shack. The moon was full tonight, and lit the area enough to see.

The shack stood dark and empty, like it had since Sonic was changed.

“I’m sorry guys,” she said, her voice soft. “I thought . . . I thought if he was in a familiar place, if he was surrounded by his friends, doing things he loved, then he’d remember.”

“It was a nice try, Ames,” Knuckles said, rubbing a hand over his face. “But he’s not him anymore.”

She pulled her lips tight. “No. I guess he’s not.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Popcorn was strewn all over the floor. Some were crunched from being stepped on, but most broken because of his metal fingers.

He looked down at his fingers now.

Sharp and cold. He couldn’t really feel anything now. Oh sure, there were pressure points on the outside plating, giving him the approximate sensation of ‘touch’. But he couldn’t feel.

The fingers curled into a fist.

Nevermind.

That wasn’t important. He was better. Stronger.

His LEDs flicked back down to the floor.

It wouldn’t be fair to leave Amy to clean up this mess, and he knew Knuckles likely wouldn’t help. Seemed a waste to throw out all that popcorn, though.

He checked his internal clock. Seven more minutes until the cookies were done.

He had time.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“He didn’t even try,” Amy said, moving to sit next to Tails. She pulled her legs up and hugged her knees. “He said he would try and he didn’t.”

“Actually,” Tails said, rubbing the back of his neck with a hand. “He said he wouldn’t fight, insult us, or sulk. That’s not really the same thing as trying.”

“But he promised he’d participate!” she said, and even to her own ears it sounded ridiculous. “He . . . he promised.”

“I guess he technically did participate,” Knuckles said with a shrug. “He was just being an irritable and impatient jerk about it.”

“On the bright side,” Sticks said, tilting her head to the side. “He did reveal a horrible injustice done to me by those shysters who sold me those boxes. I made sure they wouldn’t cheat anyone else like that!”

The others sighed, the mood not exactly feeling any lighter.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Robo-Sonic stood before the tree. The popcorn was all cleaned up, and now he stood with his arms crossed, staring at the wrapped presents strewn about, where Sticks had let them drop as he’d examined each one.

With a soft electronic sigh, he bent to gather them, stacking them neatly.

He picked up the final two, which were identically shaped, only with different wrapping. One was addressed to Tails, the other to him.

Well, to the weaker version of him, anyway.

He’d scanned them before, when Sticks had requested, and discovered they held matching scarves. Yellow for him, blue for Tails.

Probably hand crocheted by Amy herself. She liked to do that kind of thing.

He didn’t know why she bothered. That took a lot of time; it was easier to simply buy a scarf. They weren’t that expensive, really.

He stared at the boxes for a long moment, before placing them on the stack.

Glancing up, he flicked his LEDs over the tree at the lights he’d strung earlier.

They bothered him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I just . . .” Amy said, burying her face in her hands. “I hoped there was something left of him. Something that showed our Sonic was still in there.”

Silence answered her. It hung heavy before Tails gave a little sigh, reaching over to lay a gentle hand on her shoulder.

“I did too, Amy. I really did. He’s . . . he was my best friend. The idea that he’s gone is . . . well, it’s hard to accept.”

She nodded. “It’s so strange. He seems so much like the Sonic we remember, but . . . not.” She sighed, a harsh, frustrated sound. “I wish Eggman hadn’t sent him here. It’s making everything worse.”

Tails’ hand gripped her a little tighter. Knuckles moved to sit on her other side, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

“We could pay Eggman a visit and deck his halls, if that would make you feel better,” he said, a little smile curling one side of his mouth. “Want me to leave a knuckle sandwich in his stocking?”

Amy gave a soft giggle, shaking her head. “As tempting as that is, I don’t want to ruin anything any more than it already is. It’s bad enough that–” She gasped, her eyes going wide. “THE COOKIES! I completely forgot about them!”

She shot to her feet and ran toward her house with the others close behind.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Oh no oh no oh no!” Amy nearly whined as she burst into her kitchen. She expected a house full of black smoke, possibly even flames shooting from her oven, but she stopped dead when there was no oppressive heat of an uncontrolled fire, no choking smoke threatening to smother her. “What?”

The others screeched to a halt behind her, piling up and nearly knocking her over.

The scene that met them was one she would not have believed just fifteen minutes ago.

Robo-Sonic was pulling the cookie sheets from the oven. He turned and placed them on towels he’d set out to protect her counters, before looking up and finding himself with company.

“Well look who decided to finally show back up,” he said, flicking the oven off and turning to plant his hands on his hips. “Figures you guys would all take off and leave me to do all the clean up.”

Silence answered him as the others stared. Amy’s gaze fell to the cookies currently cooling on her counter. “You . . . you stayed to take them out?”

He shrugged. “Boss said I had to stay, so I stayed. I’m used to picking up the slack for you los–” He caught himself. He’d promised not to insult them. “You left. The cookies were done. I pulled ‘em out. The end.”

Amy stared. This . . . this wasn’t what she expected.

“Hey,” Knuckles said, pointing to the other counter. “What are those?”

All eyes turned to a plate stacked with popcorn balls. Robo-Sonic shrugged as he pulled them over to place on the center island counter behind the cooling cookies.

“Ames would have had a fit if I threw away perfectly good popcorn,” he said, stepping back to lean against the counter. “So I made those.”

“Huh, that’s weird.” Knuckles stepped forward to pick up one of the popcorn balls. “How did you get the string to do that?” He took a bite, his eyes lighting up. “Hey! That’s really good! And no string to get stuck in my teeth!”

Robo-Sonic shrugged again. “Amy always has a bag of marshmallows hidden away. Thinks I don’t know about it. She uses them to sweeten her coffee. Which I always thought was gross, but whatever. Figured I’d use ‘em to make something better than those stupid garlands.”

Amy blinked. Sonic would regularly raid her cabinets, so it wasn’t a surprise he knew about her secret mallow stash, but the way he was talking . . . the things he did while they were gone . . .

This was absolutely not what she expected.

“Hey, what happened to the tree?” Tails’ voice cut through her musings. They looked into the living room where the tree stood dark. “Where are the lights?”

“Took ‘em off.” Robo-Sonic’s voice sounded almost bored, like there was an implied shrug even if his shoulders didn’t move. “They were bugging me. Not strung right. Some spots had the same colored lights all bunched up. I’m not good with that kinda detail stuff.”

More silence, and Amy dared to hope. Dared to think that her Sonic, their Sonic, really was still in there.

“Do you . . .” Tails started, his voice small and shaky. “Do you want to try again? I can make sure the colors are adequately distributed this time.”

Robo-Sonic stood still for a moment, as though contemplating. Amy expected a sharp retort. An annoyed “Fine” or “Whatever”.

But instead, the robot offered a simple, “Sure.”

A little smile curled her lips.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Just before midnight.

Wrapping paper was strewn about, tossed carelessly as the annual gift exchange had taken place. The gang sat on the floor before the tree–now properly trimmed and lit, thanks to Tails’ careful calculations of the optimal placement of the various colored lights–with the star perched atop. Robo-Sonic had placed it there, in keeping with his and Tails’ tradition.

Now soft snores floated over the living room. Sticks, Knuckles, and Tails were fast asleep, their gifts piled nearby, while Amy and Robo-Sonic sat a little further away, their backs against the couch.

Amy wanted to break the silence. Needed to break it. The longer they sat like that, the longer it went without at least trying to get through to him, the more she’d beat herself up over it later.

This was the perfect chance to try and bring him around. To try and reach the Sonic she knew was still in there.

After another moment of hesitation, she cleared her throat.

“I suppose I need to send a thank you note to Eggman,” she said, her voice soft. “For letting you come tonight.”

He didn’t respond for a moment. “You always were a stickler for manners.”

She swallowed, turning her head away slightly. The familiarity he spoke with. He knew her. As much as she tried to convince herself that he wasn’t any different from Metal Sonic, that he was just some robot who’d copied Sonic’s personality . . . she couldn’t fully believe that.

She spared another glance in his direction. The yellow scarf she’d crocheted him was fastened around his neck. When he and Tails had opened those gifts he’d hesitated before putting it on, but finally tied it in place, much to Tails’ delight. Sonic never looked right without that trademark scarf around his neck.

The color contrasted with the red Santa hat still perched on his head. Her eyes flicked back to that gift label above his visor. Eggman’s logo seemed to glare at her, a stark reminder that he was here on borrowed time.

Another silent moment passed, and she turned away again. When she spoke, her voice was quieter. Hardly above a whisper.

“Stay.”

“No.”

The response was immediate. He didn’t even consider it.

“Why?” She turned back to him sharply, her tone pleading. “Why do you hate us so much?”

He turned his head away from her for a moment, before turning back. “Because you’re weak.”

“We’re stronger together.” She turned to him more fully and tried to pull back the pleading tone. “We were always stronger with you.”

“I can’t carry the whole team, Ames,” he said, his tone hard. “I can’t do what needs done if I’m worrying about the rest of you.”

“What are you talking about?” Amy said, and hated how pathetic her voice sounded even to her own ears. “Doing what needs done? What needs done is keeping Eggman from ruining everything, from destroying everything we love. We did that! And now you’re helping him. I just . . . I don’t understand.”

He didn’t respond right away, instead looking over where the others slept. Amy watched him for a few moments, before turning away when she decided he likely wasn’t going to answer.

“Sometimes protection isn’t just about bashing some bots and calling it a day,” he said, his voice softer. “Sometimes you have to make sacrifices to focus on the bigger picture.”

She stared at him, her brows furrowed. “What’s the bigger picture?”

He went quiet again, and this time it felt more final. Like whatever information she was going to get out of him had been said.

The two sat there in silence for a long time. Finally, Amy spoke, her voice a whisper.

“Merry Christmas, Sonic.”

He didn’t respond.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Time ticked on. Robo-Sonic watched the others sleep. He didn’t need to sleep anymore, although he sometimes went into standby mode. Not a ‘sleep’ in the traditional sense, but something that let him kind of ‘drift’.

Beside him, Amy’s breathing evened out, changing to a deeper, slower rhythm. He turned and found her head tilted against the couch, eyes closed, and mouth slightly open.

He watched her for a long moment.

Moving before he even knew he was, Robo-Sonic stood and gently lifted her, placing her on the couch and positioning a pillow beneath her head. She stirred slightly, and he froze, before she settled back into a comfortable position, her breathing deepening.

Pulling the afghan from the back of the couch, he draped it over her, tucking her in.

“Merry Christmas, Ames.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Morning.

The sun filtered in through the windows, pulling Amy from her sleep. She sat up and stretched, rubbing the sleep from her eyes as she got her bearings. It took a moment before the events of last night caught up with her, and she looked around, catching no sign of Robo-Sonic.

He must have gone back to Eggman’s.

With a sigh, she flipped the afghan back, preparing to head to the kitchen to start breakfast before the others woke. That’s when her eyes landed on a small stack of gifts on the coffee table, still unopened.

Her brow furrowed. That was odd. She could have sworn they’d opened all the presents last night.

Moving closer, she immediately recognized the sloppy, somewhat hurried wrapping style of one Sonic the Hedgehog.

She distinctly remembered helping Sonic pick out gifts months ago, in an attempt to keep him from being caught empty-handed come Christmas Eve. (Something that had happened on more than one occasion.) He must have wrapped them to have them done and ready back then.

But how . . .

Her eyes went wide.

Robo-Sonic must have gone back to Sonic’s shack and brought them here after she’d fallen asleep.

A little smile curled her lips. Her heart felt warmer than it had in months.

She had hope again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Ah, the blue rat bot returns!” Eggman said. He turned from the breakfast table, still dressed in his long underwear. “How went the whole ‘give your ex-friends false hope so they’ll fight me with more gusto’ plan?”

Robo-Sonic shrugged. “Fine.”

Eggman frowned. “Fine? That’s it? Just ‘fine’?”

Another shrug from the bot. “Yeah? Not sure what you want me to say.”

“Well, you could say that they spent the night bemoaning my successful plan to turn you into a robot; or that they tried to convince you to be some kind of double agent to get the goods on me in secret; or that they tried to appeal to your non-existent sense of loyalty to them in combination with the ‘spirit of Christmas’ to cast off your allegiance to me and rejoin them in their constant, infuriating destruction of every bot I painstakingly create!”

Robo-Sonic waved a hand. “Yeah, sure, okay.”

Eggman slammed his fists on the table, sending the silverware clattering. “Oh, you are just as infuriating now as you were when you were flesh and fur! I thought you were going to bring back some gossip or embarrassing tales of what happened!”

“What can I tell ya, Boss,” the robot said as he began to wander off. “Just a boring Christmas Eve. Same old, same old. Just like all the others.”

Eggman scowled. “Then what’s with the scarf?”

Robo-Sonic froze. The scarf. He’d forgotten he had it on. “What about it?”

The doctor smirked. “Seems a little sentimental, don’t you think? A lovingly hand knitted scarf from your little girlfriend.”

Robo-Sonic turned sharply, red LEDs narrowed. “She’s not my girlfriend, and it’s crocheted.”

Eggman scoffed. “My, my. Aren’t we touchy?”

The robot hedgehog uttered a little growl, before stalking toward the doctor. He yanked the scarf off his neck and slapped it on the table. “Whatever. I don’t need it.”

Eggman furrowed his brow. “Are you sure nothing happened back there?”

Robo-Sonic let out a soft scoff as he turned and walked away. “Nothing worth reporting.”

Eggman watched him go with a frown.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Robo-Sonic walked down a long hallway, the walls a polished steel here. He pushed the thoughts of last night away.

It was just a mission. He was sent there to spy. To gather intel. To give false hope so those losers would fight harder when he and Eggman attacked next.

Because if they fought harder, they got stronger. They needed to be stronger.

He only acted the way he did last night to foster that sense of hope. That he was still the Sonic they remembered.

That was the only reason.

His hand curled into a fist.

The only reason.

But that scarf . . .

A voice in the back of his mind whispered. Said things he knew weren’t true. Tried to make him soft. Make him weak.

He stopped and turned to face one of the walls. They were polished to a near mirror finish. He stared at his reflection. The gift label was still stuck to his forehead and that stupid Santa hat still perched on his metal quills.

But that wasn’t the worst part.

He almost saw the hedgehog he once was.

With a growl, he yanked the hat off and tossed it to the ground, before tearing the sticker from above his visor. It shredded, leaving behind sticky paper strips. Figures Eggman would have the cheapest, most residue-y stickers on hand.

Last night had been a mistake. He shouldn’t have gone.

Uttering a growl that bordered on a yell, Robo-Sonic drew his fist back and punched the wall, leaving a deep dent in the metal at the impact.

“No more weakness. You had your chance. You failed. Now it’s my turn.”

Robo-Sonic withdrew his hand from the crumpled metal, and continued along his way.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Well, that was anticlimactic,” Eggman said after Robo-Sonic had walked away. He slumped against the table with his chin in his hand.

Don’t pout.

“I’m not pouting!”

Seems a good place to end things, doncha think?

Eggman let out a frustrated grunt. “You wanna do the thing, don’t you?”

Wouldn’t be a Christmas story without it.

A long sigh. “Fine.”

And with Eggman pouting from not getting his way, Happy Christmas to all and to all a good day.

“I’m not pouting!”

Hush.

Merry Christmas, Season’s Greetings, and Happy Holidays to all!

303 notes · View notes