...
...
...
Running systems diagnostic.
...
Power level at thirteen-percent.
Self-repair systems offline.
Identity Folder... offline.
Engaging emergency power. Initiating reboot.
Reboot progress: Two percent.
...
"Who am I?"
...
Sticks growled and smacked the robot the side of the head as it released an unexpected chirrup. "Oi!" the badger bared her teeth and glared from behind her goggles as she attempted to hook the damn thing up to her ancient, makeshift computers, "coggin' thing's tryna chat to me 'ere, innit?"
"Sticks!" Marine hopped indignantly, eyes wide as she glared at her older sister, "dun't 'urt 'im!"
"'Urt 'im? HA!" Sticks raised her wrench and tapped the robot's forehead, the tool clinking above the blank, cracked visor. "Thing's spark-out, Reeny. Must've just been a glitch." Sticks furrowed her brow, huffing as she tried to arrange the robot over her makeshift workbench, "friggin' computer-malarkey! Gimme some good ol' junk ter rummage through any time..."
Marine ignore her sister's grumbling, standing on her tippy-toes to inspect the battered robot. He was so cool! The blue paint had almost gone, he was dented and scraped, but he wasn't rusty. Aside from the superficial damage to his outsides he was in really good shape. And she'd found him! SHE'D found him! Which made him HERS! "Come oooon, Sticksy!" the racoon whined, "wake 'im up already!"
The badger snorted, fiddling with ratty cables as she connected them to her computers. "Not a chance, Reeny! You know what these bad boys are?" Sticks turned and bared her teeth in a grin, appearing somewhat unhinged with her tattered fur and goggled eyes, ancient and battered overalls hanging from her skinny frame. "This fella 'ere, is a Metal Unit!"
Marine cocked her head. "Wha's that, Sticksy? Wha's a mettul ewnitt?"
Sticks grinned. "Worth a lotta grub an' plenty o' rotgut if we get this bad boy runnin'!" The badger paused and leaned down to Marine's level. "These fellas... these Metal Units... they were REAL killers back in 'da war! There weren't many o' these guys... ol' Robuttnik used 'em as SUPER SPECIAL MURDER WEAPONS, 'ed send 'em out ter hunt yer down, and then... THEY'D BLAST YA! KABOOM!"
Marine cackled as Sticks swooped down and grabbed her, tickling her little sister ferociously with her claws. "Stop it!" the racoon squealed, giggling under the assault, "Stop it!"
Sticks finally relented and plopped her sister back on her feet. "Anyway, yeah. I wanna run a full diagnostic of this guy before we do anyfing wiv 'im. 'E's old but I dun't wan' a killer robot wakin' up an' runnin' around tryina scrap us." the badger punctuated her words by heading over to her ancient and battered computers and checking the info on the screen. "We're gonna wipe 'im clean and sell 'im off as a blank slate. Up ter 'oever buys 'im what they do wiv 'im." The badger turned and jabbed her wrench in her sister's direction with a scowl. "So dun't go messin' wiv 'im!"
Marine pouted, insulted at the very notion she'd do such a thing. "I wasn't gonna! Why you 'avin' a go at me?"
"Jus' don't touch anyfing!" Sticks finished her work and raised her goggled, setting her tools back in the pouch of her battered old overalls. The badger stood and reached out, grabbing hold of an old tin flask and unscrewing the cap. "Right, I'm avin' a drink an' a kip. Wake me up if anyfin' appens, okay?"
Marine sulked, kicking at the wooden floor of their hideout with a boot. "'kay..."
"Good girl! Behave!" With that, Sticks turned and headed out the cramped room she used as a workspace, heading off to down some rotgut and crash out on her makeshift bed. Marine was left alone for the moment, surrounded by battered computers and scuffed tools, craning to look at the awesome robot she'd found that was presently inert on her sister's workbench. The bot was leaning on his side, the sharp quills on his head and back preventing him from lying down properly.
"I wish Sticksy would let us keep ya..." the racoon said quietly, looking into the robot's blank eye-visor. "It'd be proper scrappin' 'avin' a robot friend!"
The robot, predictably, didn't respond. Marine sighed and looked over the computers, not understanding a thing they said. She eventually grew bored and decided to leave the workspace, not wanting her sister to think she was messing around or anything.
The hideout the two girls had made their home was a mess of collected junk and scrap, garbage stored in every space they could fit it. Most of it was pretty worthless, but it always paid to have scrap around. You never knew what you could use it for. Marine wandered through the small building, past an old wooden front desk that Sticks called 'reception'. Sticks had told her younger sister that once upon a time, a long time ago, this place had been a police station. Marine didn't quite know what that meant but it was an alright place to live. Not as fun to play in as the old airy-plane they'd squatted in for a time but it did have better space to store their junk and hide their truck.
The young girl made her way out the building, clambering up the side of the old station and onto the roof. Night was falling, the cloudy sky growing dark, decayed old buildings dotted here and there among the endless scrap and wreckage. Sticks had said this place had been nice once. 'Green Hills', she'd called it. Now it was just another part of the Scraplands, deserted and buried in the endless graveyard of garbage. A shroud of smog kept visibility to just a few miles, and blocked the sky.
Marine tucked her knees to her chest, wrapping her old oversized overalls around her as she looked out over their home. She wondered if she could convince Sticks to keep the robot they'd found. It would be nice having somebody else to talk to, and maybe he'd play with her. Sticks was alright but she was usually too busy fussing and having a go at Marine. Maybe the robot would be more fun. The racoon curled up and fell asleep on the roof of the old station, beginning to dream of adventures and robot friends.
Her eyes snapped open and she yelped as a loud disturbance came from inside the station.
...
...
Self-repair systems at - - - - - - ...offline.
Identity Folder... open.
Rebooting.
...
It didn't experience much in the way of consciousness at first. Internal systems were still under repair, a lot of data was still out of reach, but over time it understood and realised it was 'awake'. Staring into something. A light, orange and dim, gently flickering before it. A lamp. Among tools and bits of junk. It didn't know how it knew these things but it at least had words to describe what it was seeing.
It. It. It. Not 'it'. That didn't seem right. He? Him? He/him. That was better. It was a he and he was a him.
He was also very confused. He didn't have much available in the way of memory right now. It didn't seem too important but he would have very much liked to know where he was, how he'd got here, and what he was.
The robot twitched. Certain systems appeared to be functioning again it seemed, slowly coming back online. It realised it was staring down the length of its own arm - that's what the scuffed thing with the five digits at the end and the faded blue paint was. It flexed its thing. Its hand. It flexed it again, clenching and unclenching the digits, making sure it was functioning, then decided to see what else it could do. Slowly, clumsily, the machine scraped over the workbench, flopping like a fish out of water as it attempted to align itself with its own movement functions.
It - he - rolled over and found himself looking at computer screens. The information presented seemed clear enough, status reports on his own systems. It was then he realised he was connected to the computers, cables and wires trailing from the side of his thing. The round thing on top. His head. He discovered he had another hand and used that to reach up and pull the wires out of this head-thing. He didn't like them being there. It didn't seem right. The screens flickered off as he removed the cords.
He sat there for a while, processing. Eventually he figured out the arrangement of his body - four limbs. Two arms, two legs, a head, and a large engine in the centre of his torso-section. The limbs were functioning but the engine appeared to be offline. Damaged.
He didn't feel right. He didn't feel like this belonged to him, like he was stuck piloting somebody else's physical form. "Weird. Oh!" Oh, cool. He'd figured out 'talking'. A string of digital noises emanated from his faceplate, somewhat staticky after a long time of non-use, but there all the same. He experimented again, trying to form words. He found that he couldn't. That wasn't right. Was it?
He tried so hard to remember something. Anything. He didn't quite know how to search through his memory... data-banks? Whatever. But he tried all the same.
He quivered in place, suddenly startled, and released a string of shocked bleeps as an image flashed through his mind. A blue face, grinning spitefully at him. A red boot pressed against his chest, ready to push. Falling. Falling. Falling. Falli-
Replaying the last memories he had of the time before, the robot fell from the table and slammed into the dust-ridden floor.
...
Marine sprinted back into the station, boots pattering over the dusty wooden floor as she bounded over and around bits of scrap. From the workspace she heard the sound of clattering metal, her sister's voice screeching, and the crackle of electricity. The racoon entered the room to find pandemonium - Sticks' work table was on its side, tools and parts littered the floor, and her computers were presently being used as a bed for the battered robot leaning against them.
"Stop!" Marine screeched, watching in horror as her sister raised a sparking staff and prepared to zap the bot again, "don't 'urt him!"
"Reeny, get back!" Sticks snarled, the enraged badger forcing the unfortunate robot back into the computers at the end of her shock-staff, "I dunno 'ow YOU got up an' walkin' matey, bu' ya keep yer 'ands where I can see 'um!"
That last part was directed at the robot, the dull blue machine attempting to defend itself with both forearms held over its face. It released a series of bleeps and chitters, the machine-language sounding very distressed indeed.
"Leave 'im alone!" Marine insisted, rushing forward to try and help the bot, "you're 'urting 'im!"
"I'll do a damn sight more'n that if this fella tries anyfing'!" the badger retorted, her eyes glaring into the red orbs now inhabiting the eye-visor. "You 'ear that, matey-boy?"
The bot nodded its head rapidly and released a compliant beep, Sticks herding it away from her computers at the end of her staff. The bot's optics tracked the end of the weapon, the machine staying away from the sparking forks.
Sticks hummed as the bot awkwardly hovered in the corner of the room. "Huh. 'ow did YOU come online all by yerself? I ain't seen that before..."
"Maybe 'es 'ungry?" Marine suggested, watching the robot with fascination. "Ey, mister robot! Ya want some power?"
'Robot' cocked his head and seemed somewhat confused, red optics flicking uncertainly between the two sisters. He looked down to the table he'd occupied some minutes before and clumsily went to retrieve it, appearing somewhat awkward and stiff with his movements.
"See?" Marine chirruped happily, as the table was set back on its reinforced feet, "he's nice!"
"Oh yeah, sure. OI! Be careful wiv those!" the robot jumped, startled as Sticks rushed to prevent it from trying to rearrange her computers. She bared her teeth and snarled in frustration. "Ya big clumsy cogger! Ya nearly wrecked me equipment!"
Robot released an apologetic bloop and backed away, and Marine couldn't help but feel sympathy for the thing. He seemed so lost and confused. "Oi! Mister robot?" the red optics flicked to regard her, the machine apparently startled at being addressed, "it's okay! We ain't gonna 'urt ya! Even if Sticksy IS a meanie!"
"Oi, watch it!" the badger retorted, giving her computer a whack and grumbling when this didn't produce any results. She eyed the strange robot cautiously, her staff still in hand, though made no further attempts at harming it. "You! Sit yer' shiny metal arse down an' don't touch nothin'!"
Robot did as instructed, scanning around and clumsily stomping over to a nearby chair. Like before he seemed stiff and awkward, like moving his own body was a chore. Soon though, red optics looked up at the sisters obediently, like he was waiting for further instructions.
"Good. Now, yer' gonna sit there an' yer' gonna behave while I figure out 'ow you brought yerself back online!" Sticks grumbled, keeping one eye on the machine while she turned back to inspect her computer equipment. Marine hopped up onto the table, kicking her legs and watching Robot as he quietly occupied his chair.
"Okay, now!" Soon enough Sticks marched across the room, the bundle of wires and cords in hand trailing from the now flickering computers." Yer' gonna be a good boy an' sit still while I put these back in yer' 'ead, understand?" Robot leaned away slightly at the badger's approach, red optics locking on the cords and the dangling plug at the end. It released a questioning boop and looked up at Sticks. "Oi oi, naught ter worry about! Jus' gonna 'ook ya up n' finish me diagnostics! Ya need a bit o' fixin' up, yeah?"
Robot remained still as though considering, before allowing a small nod.
"Lovely! Now, jus' sit still an'... HA!" Sticks cried triumphantly as the cords were plugged in, Robot made a little beeping noise, and the eyes flickered off. "Nighty-night ya clunky bastard!"
"Oi!" Marine screeched in protest, plopping back into the floor and scampering toward the now deactivated robot, "what did ya do that for, Sticksy? He was bein' nice!"
"Yeah an' I'm the Queen o' Soleanna," Sticks retorted, fiddling inside her overalls for her tools. "I dunno wha's goin' on wiv this fella but I dun't trust 'im as far as I can chuck 'im!" The badger made sure the connection was tight and stepped away, satisfied. "We'll deal wiv 'im again in the mornin'. I'm knackered."
Marine looked back to the once again inert bot, feeling sympathy that he'd been tricked by her older sister. "Sticks... what're we gonna do wiv 'im?"
Sticks scoffed. "What d'ya think? Flog 'im! That's PRIME moolah right there! Keep us in rotgut n' guzzoline fer weeks!"
Marine went silent, chewing her lip. "Can we keep 'im?"
Sticks scowled and shook her head, puzzled. "Why?"
"Pleeeeeease!" Marine piped up, grabbing hold of her sister's overalls around the waist, "we can fix 'im up an' give 'im a name an' put zappers on 'im an' 'e can guard us from baddies!"
Sticks actually appeared to consider a moment before shaking her head. "'E's worth too much. We dun't need 'im," the badger said, retrieving her tin of rotgut before taking a quick swig. "We're good on us own, Reeny."
"Please! Pleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleeeeeeease?" Marine batter her eyes, trying to look as sad as possible. "I could 'ave 'im fer me birfday?"
"Yer' not 'avin' a coggin' robot for yer' birthday!"
"But..." Marine desperately tried to think of a way she could change her sister's mind, her little fists balling by her sides. "But Sticks!"
"Aw'right, fine! Ah'll fink about it!" Sticks through her hands up in frustration and checked on the robot's diagnostics again. "Sweet coggin' 'ell, what am I gonna do wiv ya?"!
"Aw scrappin'! Fanks Sticksy!"
Marine lunged forward into a hug, wrapping her arms around her sister's midriff. Sticks chuckled and scratched at the young racoon's head. "Don't go gettin' excited! I only said I'd fink about it!" the badger said, watching as Marine suddenly yawned wide. "Now go on, get yerself ter bed."
"Not tired!"
"Yeah right, wha' d'ya take me for? Some kinda cog-brain eejit?" Marine didn't reply, starting to noddle off against her sister's overalls. "Okay sprog, time fer bed." Sticks lifted her little sister into her arms, holding her tight to her skinny chest as the racoon began to fall limp. She carried Marine through the cluttered hideout, to the small area of sheets and blankets that served as her sleeping area. "Night sprog. Sleep tight."
Marine mumbled something before curling up and going still. Sticks watched her for a moment, smiled to herself, and then left. She wandered through the hideout and stopped by a large green military container. Retrieving a set of keys from the depths of her overalls she unlocked the box, opening the lid to find a handful of ration bars and some cans of food - all that was left of the girls' food supply. Sticks took a bar for herself and one for Marine, making sure to set it down near the girl's bed for her to eat if she woke up hungry. Which neither had for a while. Their last haul had gained them rations for months, but it had been a while since they'd come across anything too valuable and the food situation was starting to become desperate.
Sticks glanced in the direction of her workshop, where her equipment continued to monitor the presently inactive robot. Hopefully, their luck would turn around soon. Sticks took another swing of rotgut and kept watch on the thing, her staff nearby and handy, making sure it wouldn't unexpectedly 'wake up' again.
...
Something snapped Sticks from the sleep she'd apparently fallen into. The badger's ears perked, straining... and she swore as she hauled tail, leaping from the seat at the unmistakeable sound of engines.
Stupid! Stupid stupid stupid! How coggin' thick did she have to be to noddle off like that?
She passed by the workspace, briefly checking to find their metal friend still thankfully zonked out, before rushing to wake her sister. "Reeny! Marine!"
"Huh? Whu'z'appnin'?"
"Gerrup, girl!" Sticks snarled, shaking her sister awake and swivelling her ears as the engines grew louder, "we got company!"
"Badger!"
Both girls paused as they heard a voice, belonging to a male, calling from outside. "Badger! You in there?"
"'oo's that?" Marine whispered, tensing as Sticks clutched her tight.
"Slit..." Sticks hissed the word, almost spitting the name. She grabbed her shock-staff and bared her teeth, storming toward one of the reinforced windows of the station to peer out a makeshift loophole. Sure enough, a couple of battered vehicles sat out in the shattered street, a number of mangy black-furred mobians hanging around with weapons. "Stay down!" she shoved Marine back, before the racoon could stick her head out to be blown off.
"OI! Badger! Ya listenin' ter me?" the leader, a jackal with a horribly scarred face, called out again. His hands were on his hips, his cronies flanking him with blunt objects and a couple of ballistic firearms. "We know yer' in there, Sticksy!"
"Wha'd'ya want, ya mangy cretin?" Sticks snarled back, checking the electrified end of her staff.
"Wha'do I want?" The jackal smiled viciously, the expression warped by the long scars than ran across his cheeks making his smile unnaturally wide. "Ya fink we're blind or summink? We know what ya got in there, Sticksy me ol' girl!"
"All I gots' an 'eadache from you bangin' yer lips!" Sticks retorted, Marine squatting beside her. "Why don't ya piss off, Slit?"
"Becuz!" the jackal cackled, "ain't every day me ol' girl brings 'ome a Metal Unit! In pretty decent nick, I 'ear! I bet ya finkin' ya can get a real deal for that fing, eh?"
"Yeah, ya'd like a decent 'unit' wouldn' ya?" Sticks bared her teeth in a grin as the implied insult caused the jackal pause.
Slit growled. "That Metal Unit. We wan' it. Give it up an' ya won't 'ave any trouble. If ya don't? Well..." the jackal's face split again. "Let's jus' say I can fink of a couple folk oo'll pay real nicely fer the girl! An' a few badger teef!"
Sticks felt a fiery rage build in her chest. "Try anyfin' an' I'll knock the shit outta ya!"
Slit bared his teeth and gestured at his cronies. "I fought ya'd say that!" the jackal hefted a pipe and pointed in the direction of their hideout. "I tell ya what. I'll send me boys in, an' jus' take it eh? Dat'll be just scrappin'!"
Sticks' eyes went wide as they scanned over the approaching jackals, suddenly realising Slit wasn't fooling around. "Ah, shit... Reeny?" she inspected her shock-staff and looked to her sister, the racoon appearing suddenly frightened. "Marine, ya need to run and 'ide, ya 'ear me? Get outta 'ere and go 'ide somewhere safe!"
"S... Sticks?"
There was a bang and something fast and metallic pinged against the scrap-reinforced wall. Sticks swore and raised her staff, pointing it out the loophole. "Go on!"
Marine couldn't believe what was happening. She'd been awake five minutes and everything was terrible. "What abou' you?"
"I'll find ya! Now go!" Sticks activated her staff and snarled as a crackling lance of electricity launched from the end, snapping out at the approaching jackals to the sound of a yelp. "Gerroutofit, ya mucky coggers!"
Marine did as she was told and ran, whimpering as more loud bangs sounded and metal things hit the walls. Tears began to stream from the girl's eyes. She didn't want Sticks to die! It was like with her mum and dad all over again, when they'd died, and Marine didn't want to lose the only family she had left... but there was nothing she could do. Those baddies were gonna come in, come in and kill Sticksy just so they could take away Robot...
Marine skidded to a halt. Robot. She had an idea. Turning and scampering through the station she ran for her big sister's workshop, where the machine lay inert. She slid over the wooden floor and stopped on front of the computers, frantically scanning over to see how to disconnect the machine and bring him back online. She'd seen Sticks fiddle with the computers loads of times, surely she could work it out!
Marine yelped as she heard her sister cry out back in the station, and knew she was out of time. It was do or die. She ran over to the robot and yanked the wires and cords from his head, the thing remaining stubbornly still and lifeless as she began to shake him.
"Come on mister, wake up!" Marine cried, tears streaking down her muzzle. She batted her hands against his dulled blue carapace and sobbed, terrified at the thought of her sister being alone back there. "Please! Wake up!"
...
The robot had had a very strange experience in the minutes after it had come online. After the terrible vision of that grinning blue face, sending him plummeting into the watery depths of the ocean, he had lost his balance and promptly faceplanted the floor. Clumsy, still unused to his body, he had proceeded to knock the workbench over, causing a terrible racket as all kinds of strange tools and bits of metal went flying. Then the brown creature had appeared, and attacked him! The long thing it had prodded him with had given him a real bad shock, and even though he'd tried to warn her - he somehow concluded that the creature...mobian... badger was female - she had done it again! Until he was leaning against her computers, clumsily trying to defend himself with his forearms.
Then the smaller one had appeared. She'd helped stop the badger from attacking him again. Which he was grateful for. He didn't feel pain, but he didn't appreciate it! Then the two mobians had argued among themselves before the badger had approached him, plugged him back into her computers, and he'd... apparently shut down again. Considering as he found himself slowly coming back online right now.
"Wake up!"
The robot - he decided he needed to come up with a name if he couldn't remember his own but that wasn't important right now - switched his eyes back on and found himself still in his chair, this time with the small racoon mobian from before shaking him by the shoulders. There was wet stuff leaking from her eyes - tears? Yeah, tears - and she seemed very distraught. "Oh, hello. What's the matter?"
Marine squealed as the robot leaned forward, bleeping some kind of greeting to her. "OH SCRAP YER' AWAKE! YOU 'AVE TO 'ELP STICKS THE BADDIES ARE COMIN' AN' THEY'RE GONNA KILL 'ER!"
Well. That didn't sound good. Robot snapped his head up as a bang emitted from somewhere out the workspace accompanied by screaming. He gently moved the child aside and gripped the arms of the chair, heaving himself to his feet. He stumbled. Still not used to this body. He had no idea why, it had always been his body... right?
He wasn't sure but that also wasn't important right now. His friends were in danger and that was unacceptable to him. He didn't know why, or when he'd designated these two mobians as his friends, but it just seemed the thing to do.
"Come on! This way!" The racoon ran to the door and peered out into the hall beyond, turning to look at Robot with big terrified eyes. "You 'ave to 'elp 'er!"
Robot processed this for a moment, decided that he indeed needed to help, and unconsciously tugged at imaginary gloves as he strode forward. His armoured feet stomped into the wooden floor but he marched on, willing to do what he could to help.
Sticks fired another lance of lightening energy from her staff, swearing as the damn thing crackled and fizzled. Out of power. Scrap it, she retreated from her position and began to move down the hall, ears twitching as she heard her attackers breaking through and into the building. There weren't many of them but there were more than her, and she could only hope right now that Marine had legged it and found somewhere safe.
They should never have brought that damn bot home. The thing had attracted very bad people.
"Sticks!"
The badger's eyes went wide and she swore at the sound of her little sister's voice. She'd told Marine to get her arse out of here! What in the name of Gaia was she still doing-
Sticks almost fell over as she came to a halt, snarling reactively as she set eyes on the red-eyed, dull-blue machine itself stomping down the hall toward her. Marine was behind it, looking like she was about to take on the attacking gang herself.
"What the- Marine?"
"It's okay!" the racoon cried back, "'e's 'ere to 'elp!"
Before Sticks could argue a voice growled at her from behind. She spun finding one of the jackals had broken in and was pointing a gun in their direction.
A moment later Sticks was on the floor, and the man fired.
Marine screeched, ducking her head in her arms as the robot grabbed her, turning and covering her with his own body. Shrapnel pinged off his back plate and he protected Marine until the firing stopped.
"What the- coggin' 'ell!" the jackal with the gun snarled, frantically reloading his crude shotgun. Robot didn't waste much time. He stood, marched forward at a brisk pace, and promptly ripped the gun from the man's hands. The jackal watched, gobsmacked, as his assailant snapped the thing like a twig and tossed both halves aside. "Scrap 'dis!" he cried, reflexively falling backwards, "'elp me!"
Robot watched as other jackals appeared, a couple with guns and the others with blunt objects, and attacked. They quickly discovered that bullets did nothing against him, the machine shrugging them off like spitballs. The men with the blunt objects fared no better, bringing their weapons down to clang uselessly against armoured metal that had survived decades of being underwater. Robot beat them mercilessly, sending men flying, breaking bones, though taking care not to kill - he didn't know why, but he didn't actually want to kill any of them. Just give them a bruising and kick them out of his friends' home.
Soon enough the bandits decided they'd had enough. The beaten and bloody jackals retreated, two of them dragging one who had suffered a shattered leg, none of them ready to die today.
"HA!" Sticks ran to the reinforced window and bared her teeth at the jackals as they ran away with tails between legs, "an' STAY OUT, ya yeller bastards!"
The badger followed her statement with a very rude gesture, which Robot promptly mimicked, much to Marine's delight.
"See? See?!" The racoon girl squealed as she ran to join her sister and their metallic friend, "I told ya! I told ya 'e was nice!"
"YOU!" Sticks snarled as she lowered to her sister's level, grabbing the racoon by the shoulders and glaring into her eyes, "I told ya to leg it, Reeny! I told ya ter get away from 'ere! Ya coulda been killed!"
Marine blinked up at her sister, tears welling in her eyes. "I couldn' leave yer... I didn' want yer ter die..."
Sticks stared into her sister's face, watching as tears began to wet her muzzle... and pulled her into a tight hug. "Yeah... I know, sis... I jus' dunno wha' I'd do if.. you ever got 'urt, y'know? I love ya so much I jus'..."
The robot watched the two sisters as they hugged and sobbed apologies to one another, unable to shake how horribly familiar this all was. He felt, more than remembered, someone... someone small and orange, hugging into him the way the racoon was with her sister right now...
It was gone as soon as it had appeared, leaving an empty sensation in Robot's frame. He felt a spike of frustration. Just like his memory of the blue face, it was all out of reach. All hidden from him, like blindly feeling through an ocean of soup for a grain of salt. Robot - he REALLY needed to think of a name - suddenly realised he was being addressed, and refocused his attention to the badger as she hauled herself from the floor.
"Oi! Cloth-ears! You lis'nin ter me?" Sticks stood and rapped her knuckles against the bot's forehead for effect, though looking him over with great interest. The racoon - Marine? - beamed beside her, grinning up at the robot like he was her personal superhero. "I dunno what yer' doin walkin' about, but you... saved my little sis' life. An' mine." The badger frowned and stroked at her ratty muzzle fur. "Were that on purpose?"
The robot processed the question for a microsecond before nodding. He knew he had to help. There was no ifs or buts about it. It was what he was... built for, he supposed. Maybe that's what his function was.
The badger regarded him a moment longer, before she cackled and smacked a hand on his shoulder-guard. "Scrappin'! You're real good in a scrap, I'll give ya that! Good ter 'ave ya!"
Marine gasped. "Does... does that mean we're keepin' 'im?"
"If 'e pulls 'is weight, an' dun't break any more'o my STUFF..." Sticks raised her voice before looking the bot over, and nodding approvingly. "Yer' scrappin' right!"
Marine beamed and hopped over to the robot. "Scrapper!" She announced excitedly, "that could be yer' name! Cuz' yer' good in a scrap! We can call ya Scrapper!"
The robot appeared to process this for a few moments. The suggestion seemed to trigger a tiny something... a name... beginning with 's'? S... S...
He couldn't remember. But looking at how happy the little racoon was at her idea, he made a decision. 'Scrapper' would do.
The newly-christened Scrapper nodded, raised a hand in a thumbs-up gesture, and released a happy bleep. Marine cheered and lunged into a hug, wrapping her arms around the robot's midriff. Sticks just stared, completely taken sideways by the thing. "You do yer bit though, y'hear?" she said, jabbing a stern finger at the weird bot, "ya 'elp us out! Fetch scrap! Keep me little sis safe! I dunno what you are or where ya came from but if ya can do that... I'll be 'appy to 'ave yer. What do ya say?"
Scrapper seemed somewhat engaged right now, apparently frozen up at receiving a hug from Marine. The bot eventually seemed to register that it had been spoken to and looked to Sticks, answering her with a short couple of bleeps.
Sticks grinned and looked the strange robot over. "Yeah," she said, punctuating her words with a light punch to his shoulder, "Thought ya'd say that!"
...
New Metropolis. Judgement Halls. Twenty Years after Victory Day.
Doctor Prower swayed slightly, staring into space as he rode the elevator down into the lower levels of the city. His hands remained occupying the pockets of his lab coat, the fox's head ringing with the noise of the elevator machinery. He desperately wished he had brought along his hip-flask. It was the only thing that got him through many days now. But he knew he couldn't. Today he had important work to do.
Even if he would have rather been anywhere else.
The elevator reached its destination and the door pinged, the shining metal sliding open and allowing the doctor to step into an important-looking hallway. His shoes clacked over the polished marble floor, the fox's head bowed as he made his way through the Judgement Halls Building.
He didn't have to attend every sentencing. He would be a very busy man if he did. But important sentences like this... the President required it.
Miles walked alone, the hallway deserted, before a door near the end of the hall opened. A blue figure walked out, clad in a suit jacket, chatting to other officials who followed him. "Ah! Miles!" the blue mobian greeted him with open arms, muzzle splitting into a smile as he spotted the fox, "there you are! I didn't think you were coming!"
Miles's twin tails twisted together nervously at the sight of his older brother. The hedgehog may have been smiling, but it seemed more a baring of teeth than a greeting. "Good morning, Mister President."
Sonic scowled, the smile replaced with a pout. "Oh. I guess formality reigns today, huh?" the hedgehog gestured to the other suited mobians to follow, taking the lead along with Miles. "Very well, doctor. Shall we?"
Miles fell into step beside his brother, the gaunt hedgehog clasping his hands behind his back as he became all business. Miles snatched a look at his brother, though his head remained bowed, eyes low to the floor tiles behind his spectacles. He tried to remember when it was Sonic had changed. He'd been... different after the war, but that had been understandable. And it hadn't been long before his characteristic humour and energy returned, despite his newfound duties as President of the fledgling Federation. But now he truly was different. Gaunt, cold, eyes devoid of humour or compassion.
But there was a spark of something in there today. Like he was almost excited to carry out this sentencing. Like a shark smelling blood.
"What is it, doctor?" the hedgehog gave Miles a side-eye, aware that the fox had been staring, "do I have something on my muzzle?"
Miles' ears drooped and he set his jaw as they walked on. "I don't think today is the time for jokes, Mister President..."
"Cheer up, Miles!" the hedgehog smiled, eyes cold and teeth bared as he led his little escort through the secure building, "we're one step closer to ending this war. Ensuring security. Keeping the peace."
Keeping the peace. How quaint. The fox dared give his brother a scathing look. "He was our friend, Sonic. I can't feel good about this."
"He," Sonic raised a finger as they walked, his expression becoming grim, "is a traitor. A terrorist. That's all there is to it." Miles offered no further comment, his tails drooping as the brothers reached their destination. Sonic offered an easy salute to a pair of grey-armoured troopers flanking a reinforced door, the two men clutching large auto-rifles. "Afternoon, gentlemen!" The troopers saluted their President and opened the door, the metal hissing as they were allowed access to the chamber ahead.
Miles fought to prevent his ears from going flat as they entered the sentencing chamber, taking his place by a computer console as the other officials took their place at a curving metal desk. Sonic himself took his place at a podium, overlooking a metal cylinder in the centre of the room. The cylinder was covered in pipes and wires, the advanced technology required to perform its function. Soon the quiet business of the Federation officials taking their positions finished, and all waited for the sentencing to begin.
Sonic cleared his throat, all business. "Send in the prisoner."
At his command, the armoured guards opened another set of doors the other side of the room. More troopers entered, escorting a large, red-furred prisoner with hyper-strength cuffs binding his wrists. A thick metal collar was bound around his neck, nullifying the individual's Chaos powers. Violet eyes glared from a grizzled red and brown face as Knuckles, rebel and traitor to the Federation, was marched into the chamber for his sentencing.
Soon enough the old echidna was planted before the central cylinder, the armed troopers all but forcing him into position.
The echidna silently glared at the blue hedgehog on the podium, Sonic looking down on his old friend without pity.
"Knuckles Pachacamac..." Sonic spoke coldly, mechanically, not a shred of mobianity in his tone as he looked down his nose at the Resistance Commander. "You have been tried and found guilty of Sedition, Treason, destruction of Federation property and assets... and Murder."
"I am guilty..." the echidna snarled, "of fighting for my freedom! Nothing more!"
Sonic bared a fang in contempt. "Your sentence - Roboticization, and assignment to a Zone work-camp. You will be productive. And give back to the nation you tried to destroy." A twinkle of malice shone in Sonic's eyes, saved just for the echidna as the two old friends glared at one another. Miles didn't notice, refusing to even look in Knuckles' direction.
"I would rather you killed me here and now," Knuckles snarled, teeth baring defiantly.
"I know," Sonic replied coolly. The President gestured to the guards. "Insert the prisoner. Carry out sentencing."
Knuckles grunted as the guards manhandled him into the cylinder, shocking him with electro-batons as he resisted. Soon the chamber door was slammed and secured, locked tight, Knuckles still visible through the reinforced, clear material.
"Know this!" the echidna barked, violet eyes glaring viciously around at his accusers, his attention eventually landing on Miles. The fox solidly ignored him, not daring to meet his old friend's glare. "I go to my fate with dignity, and honour! The Resistance will not surrender! We will fight for the freedom of all mobians from this 'Federation''s tyranny, until death!"
The eyes of suited and uniformed Federation officials regarded him without mercy, their president turning his attention to his brother. "Doctor Prower? Carry out sentencing."
Miles felt sick, a lump forming in his throat at the thought of his invention being used for punishment once again. Normally he nor Sonic would be here for the process of a Roboticization sentencing - there were just so many these days... but Sonic had deemed this particular case important enough to warrant their presence.
He didn't want to do it. He didn't want to obey. He raised a hand and caressed the ring around his finger. He had to.
Miles hands tapped at the console, entering commands, preparing the machine to do its work. The whine of energy steadily increased, power shunting into the systems of the Roboticization capsule, Miles' creation ready to divert that energy into the cylinder itself.
He paused, right at the final step. All he had to do was push this last button and the process would begin. Power hummed, quite loud now. His heart pounded.
"It's okay..." a blue hand rested over his own, Miles looking to find Sonic himself standing beside him. The hedgehog's other hand rested on his shoulder, his green eyes regarding the fox with sympathy.
For a moment, Miles felt eight years old again. Safe in the knowledge that his big brother, Sonic the Hedgehog, would always be there to make things better. To protect him.
"We'll do it together," the hedgehog said softly, gently gripping Tails' hand. "Seems only fitting, huh?"
Miles swallowed the lump and nodded, setting his emotions aside. Together, both brothers pressed down on the console, entering the final command and exacting the now unstoppable, irreversible punishment that awaited any who defied the Federation.
Energy was shunted through the capsule, the prisoner inside snarling as he frantically scanned the walls and floor. A flat ring of electricity began to rise, filling the cylinder, moving toward the ceiling to completely shroud the occupant on the way.
Knuckles' feet went, solidifying into shining red metal boots. His lower legs were next, the energy slowly moving up and past his knees, leaving only unfeeling metal behind. Knuckles reared his head and howled, releasing an echidna war-cry, determined to fight against his fate to the end. The sensation of his skin, bones, blood, flesh, being turned to machine made him sick to his stomach... which stopped being a problem when the energy moved past his midriff. The electric field went on, up past his neck, the echidna now no longer able to breathe. His mouth flapped, suffocating yet still living, until that too was gone, replaced with a smooth metallic faceplate. Finally, agonisingly, it went up past his eyes, taking those, and on up to the top of his head.
Soon, it was over. The sentence had been carried out. Miles and Sonic watched with bated breath as the process was complete, the fox taking a shuddering breath as he entered the commands to shut down the machine.
Sonic patted his brother on the shoulder and moved away, setting his hands behind his back as he inspected the results. The guards unlocked the capsule door, preparing to extract the occupant.
Miles didn't want to look. But he had to. He was expected to, after all.
From the cylinder, flanked by the guards, a brand new machine emerged. Red, echidna-shaped, glowing purple optics glaring from a featureless face.
Miles looked away in shame.
"Very good," Sonic announced, detached yet seemingly pleased with the results. "Take this unit to its assigned work-camp. Make sure it is appropriately productive."
The troopers did as instructed, escorting the echidna-bot from the room with clunks of heavy feet. There was no resistance from the roboticized victim, no further defiance, though he was still fully aware of what was happening. Part of the punishment. After all, what was the point in the sentence if the recipient wasn't aware of it?
Miles zoned out as the council disbanded, Sonic occupied conversing with other officials as the fox shut down his equipment. Soon enough the two brothers were making their way back through the building, shoes clacking against the marble floor.
"We did what was necessary, Miles..." Sonic said determinedly, noting the fox's silent disposition, "Knuckles made his choice. He knew the consequences."
A muscle in the fox's jaw twitched, Miles unwilling to say what he really thought right now. "I... I know, Sonic..." the fox said tiredly, looking into the marble tiles as they walked, "it's just... I never thought it would ever come to this. Rebellion, a roboticized workforce... it doesn't seem like the future we fought for back in the war."
Sonic stopped walking, turning to regard his brother with cold eyes. "Miles. Do you trust me?"
Miles suddenly found himself locking up, words sticking in his throat. "I... I-"
"It's been hard, I know." Sonic continued, hands securing behind his back as he regarded his brother. "Rebuilding after the war means I have had to make a lot of decisions I'm not proud of. But if there were other ways, of keeping our people safe and protecting the peace we've known for twenty years... I would take them, believe me." Sonic raised an eyebrow, green eyes not leaving his brother's. "You KNOW me, Miles. You've been with me every step of the way all these long years. I trusted you'd know that I wouldn't lie to you."
Miles held his brother's gaze, Sonic's eyes holding none of the sympathy he'd shown earlier during the Roboticization. Now they were steely, cold... and suspicious.
"Yes," the fox replied at last, not willing to upset his brother. Sonic was still the President, and Miles owed him his loyalty.
"Good!" the hedgehog said airily, all tension suddenly evaporating. "Well, I have to head off. I'm beat. We'll talk again tomorrow, discuss the Military Display." Sonic stretched and cracked his joints, his suit jacket pulling against his skinny form as he did so. "I'll let you get off," the hedgehog grinned, before the smile became a grimace. "Say hi to the wife and kids for me!"
Miles watched his brother depart, unable to filter out the bitterness in Sonic's tone at that last statement. The doctor again gently rubbed his ring, remembering just what it was that kept him doing the things that he did. Staying loyal to the President.
If he ever forgot, he could never forgive himself for what might happen.
...
New Metropolis was a city of millions. Once it had been a beautiful place, shining buildings reaching tall, the gleaming city a beacon of mobian peace and cooperation. Then Robotnik had moved in with his Empire, transforming the city over time into a frightening place ridden with his machines, the people under his thumb. When the mad tyrant had been ousted the Federation declared the city as its Capital, and they had begun to rebuild, reverse-engineering the doctor's technology to build the city even higher, even bigger, packing more and more and more people together like sardines in a can...
It had taken a long time, and had been fuelled by a desire for security... but now the city was a nightmare, a hive of people clustered over and under and around one another, smog blocking the sky through which endless hovercar traffic filed in busy lines. Massive skyships hung in the air like islands, spotlights shining oppressively down onto the hive. Miles reclined in the red leather seat of the hovercar, idly watching the cityscape go by below. Millions and millions of people down there, the gutter of Federation society, ruled by propaganda and fear.
The fox sighed and wiped his forehead. How things had come to this, he didn't know.
Miles stared out of the hovercar window as they ascended, alone in the private section of the vehicle. Important Federation personnel like him were shielded from the drivers, too which personally made for an isolating experience for the fox. The flyer glided by a large metal blimp, the vehicle displaying advertisements for Poof'Z Fur-fragrance, confirmed the preferred fragrance of President Sonic himself. Once, Miles would have found that hilarious. But he didn't laugh now. Didn't laugh much at all these days.
Soon enough the cityscape became obscured by smog, as the hovercar ascended through the thick grey clouds blanketing the city. Visibility reduced to practically nothing for a few moments, before the car broke from the clouds and flew to join the airways of the Upper Levels. The spires of tall, monolithic buildings, gleaming in the late afternoon sun, castles in the sky like something from a mobian fairytale.
This was where the affluent folk lived. The rich and important members of Federation society. Crowded in their towers around a single massive structure, the flat top of a massive pyramid in the centre of Metropolis, the President's tower itself.
It was almost comically grandiose, but there was nothing funny about what the Federation had become.
Miles settled back and patiently sat out the rest of the ride, until the hovercar eventually set down onto the flat top of one of the massive buildings. The door soon hissed open and the doctor departed, the driver standing smartly at attention as the fox dismounted.
Miles thanked the driver and collected his briefcase, heading off in the direction of his house. He passed by trees, flowers - gardens that existed at the top of these habitat-blocks, for the pleasure of the people who could afford to live this high up. He made his way over a long bridge, decorated with reinforced clear plastic flooring through which the lights of the city below could be made out through the smog. Miles did his best to ignore the roboticized mobians mixed in the crowds, the ones who resided this high up servants of the important people here going about their business. He passed closely by a suited wolf-mobian, the blue-jacketed man followed closely by what appeared to once have been a purple cat. Now just a blank-faced machine, fully aware yet unable to act against their enslavement programming.
Miles kept his head down and moved on. If the robot recognised him as the inventor of their punishment, they were unable to show it.
Finally, thankfully, Miles found himself entering the front door of his home. It wasn't long after entering the lavish Upper-Level apartment that he found himself accompanied by the only reasons he kept going.
"Daddy!"
A genuine smile split the fox's muzzle, Tails opening his arms wide as a pair of little orange-furred beings scampered excitedly into the foyer. "Hello my monkeys! OOF," the fox beamed as the twins, Tinker and Skye, launched into his arms and he lifted them from the floor with ease. "My babies! C'mere and give your father a kiss!" Both children squealed as he planted messy kisses into both their fur, one wriggling child occupying each arm. "You two are getting heavy! Did you have fun at school today?"
"Actually, we have a little bit of news..."
Miles turned to find a ginger-furred figure leaning against the polished white doorframe leading to the living room, a smile on her muzzle. "Oh?" the fox replied airily, "and what's that?"
Belle Prower folded her arms and grinned. "These two little geniuses both scored one hundred on their science exam today!"
Tails beamed into his kids' faces. "You did?"
"Yeah!" Skye chirruped, the tiny fox's face shining proudly, "the teacher said we were SO smart!"
"Does this mean we're gonna get to be scientists like you, daddy?" Tinker squeaked, the even smaller and fuzzier orange mouse blinking at her father with huge eyes.
Tails' smile faltered a little. "I think you two are going to do much better things than me, sweethearts..."
Noting her husband's mood souring, Belle stepped in. "Okay darlings, you two go get ready for your dinner. You can tell daddy all about it while we're eating!"
The kids were plopped back to their feet and went off, Tails watching resignedly as his children chattered among themselves. The husband and wife remained silent for a moment before Belle smiled timidly. "Bad day?"
"Bad day..." Tails sighed and shrugged off his jacket, reaching to hang it on the nearby coat rack. "Isn't every day a bad one?" The fox turned and left the foyer, shoes clapping over the shining white floor of his apartment. Belle tailed him, following her husband as he entered the living room and poured himself a brandy before collapsing into a pristine leather couch.
"Miles... talk to me?" the mouse-mobian timidly settled down beside her husband, "I hate to see you upset like this..."
"I Roboticized one of my oldest friends, a man I once saw as my brother!" Tails snapped, angry not at her but at the same time unable to hold his grief any longer. "I... can't help but be upset..."
"He... was a traitor..." Belle spoke pleadingly, as though trying to make her husband see an obvious truth, "he was an enemy of the Federation-"
"Damn the Federation!" Tails bit back, his namesakes twisting around one another, "damn the Roboticizer, and damn the President himself!"
Belle lunged forward and covered his mouth with a hand, her eyes suddenly very wide. "Miles!" She hissed, panic in her voice, "you can't... say things like that! What if they're listening? You know what happened to Starline..."
Tails sighed as her hand left his muzzle. "They aren't... I would know." the fox tipped his brandy back and swallowed it in one gulp, screwing his face at the intense burn of the liquor. "I'm sorry, love... I just... I'm tired. I'm so tired."
"I know..." Belle leaned into her husband, giving the fox some much-needed physical affection. "But we have a life here, Miles... we have our family... I don't want to lose that. I don't want to lose you!" She leaned her head against the thick fur of his chest and sighed. "We're safe..."
"Of course..." Miles replied, unable to project any enthusiasm but comforted in his wife's grasp. He turned and kissed the mouse on the head, breathing in the scent of her hair. "I love you, Belle. I would do anything to keep you and the children safe."
Belle hummed, her eyes closed as she leaned into his chest. Miles meant that. He meant every word. He thought back to his day, his ring hand running through Belle's hair, to Knuckles' roboticization.. and to other days, when he had to do things he didn't like, and he knew. Sonic could ask anything of him, and he would do it. To keep his family safe.
Nothing was as important as them. Nothing.
