A one-shot story in Scourge's POV based on his questioning of his very existence and personality. Very short, mostly what he's thinking in his head.

Warning(s): strong language.


We come from opposite worlds. That's it; that's all there is between me and my goody-two shoes counterpart Sonic, that idiot blue boy. And so, based on simply that and that alone, my life on Anti-Mobius drove me to become a heartless piece of shit that has to become the anti-version of Sonic. Where he's caring, I don't give a shit. Where he's loyal, I eventually ditch my'alliances' with even some of my closest of pals for my own personal gain while telling them to go fuck off. Where he's usually calm and collected, I could blow up easily and leave the whole town quivering at just my gaze. Where he's careful with the ladies, I throw the old ones in the trash and quickly find some new bitches to toy with, and then the cycle will keep repeating.

Well, I'm sick of that cycle. I'm sick of wanting things I never really wanted, and seeking things I never really needed. 'Its bad, so I like it'. And? What about that? What's so special about it; what's the significance of just liking bad things, like a mindless zombie? Just because Sonic is a good guy, I have to be everything he's not, and like everything he wouldn't?

But why?

I guess I'm breaking the foundation of m worl dby now by even questioning the meaning of all of this shit? Usually, I wouldn't give a shit, but that's what's making me a bitch to reality right now, isn't it? Just goign with the flow of my opposite dimension like a dumb-ass. I live in a world that doesn't even have its own name, it's own people, it's own anything. Because I was born in a world owned by another dimesion, I became the property of the real thing: Mobius and Anti-Mobius, Sonic and Anti-Sonic...Rosy's the same too. Then there's all of my pals, and then there's Anti-Robotnik. Who else is just a mirror of the real world here? Every- fucking- body! Am I even real right now? Or, when I look in the mirror, am I going to reach out and see that blue punk staring back at me, mocking me with that cheeky smirk of his, telling me that I'll never mean anything anywhere I go because I'm just an illlusion of the real thing?

Well, fuck it.

I ain't anyone's bitch in this game called life, and I refuse to play this game like this fucked up dimension wanted me to. Well, sure, that's easy to say, but just making myself be even the slightest bit different from my usual self is a pain I usually don't bother with.

Because I'm gotten used to playing the role as a reflection.

Just thinking liek this is a pain, but it's the truth that I kept avoiding al of this time, just runnign awya from somethign I can't really run away from. So where does even a reflection have its value? I may be a king of my own dimension, but I don't care for owning a world that's owned by something else already. I need something better, something that's worth more value. But what exactly is it that I need? I probably figured it out at some point, after looking at just the reason for my existence, if I have one. I'm just an opposite, just an illusion, just a reflection, but I'm sick of thinking about myself as just a bitch owned by somebody else, playing my own opposite dimension's game.

I need...I need to feel more real, dammit!

Fucking every girl in the known universe won't help shit. I'll still be an opposite even if I go all night with 'em all, even if I screw too many to count all at once. It's just something that blocks the idea from my mind, but after it's all over and done with, I'll start thinking about it again, and then I'll get pissed off again, and then I'll tell myself that I just need more distractions like booze, cigaretes and bitches. I'm throwing away all of these dumb-ass distractions; they haven't done shit to help me feel real. In fact, they only feed my problem; they only feed the side of me that doesn't want to change from the role as a reflection. It's easy to just keep playing this role, to stick to what I'm used to being and doing, but it's making a me a slave to reality, a succumbing bitch to what was expected of me, and I can't settle for that either. It would take changing the reflected image in order for this reflection to be even the least bit more valuable. I'd have to do something to look less like a poser.

And so I broke away from being called Anti-Sonic, even looking like that motherfucker. I hated that name, what it made me look like to the rest of the world. I had jumped for that giant-ass Master Emerald and absorbed as much of its power as I could before Locke put two huge-ass scars on my chest with his knuckles. I had believed blindly that maybe its power would make me far more superior than my real model. It's make me feel more powerful, and seem even more real, than Sonic would ever hope of being. Then he'd be the bitch iof reality, not me, because I'm nobody's bitch.

And so, from that day, I was reborn into a real person, and I'm fuckign proud of it. "The name's Scourge, and don't cha ugly motherfuckers forget it either!"