Chapter 16 – Stronger than Flesh.
A/N: I ask only forgiveness for the actions of this chapter.
HHH – The flu now as well; man you're going through the mill. But never fear; just cuddle up with sweet Soulio and she'll help you get you through it!
DH – The End of the Hunt is two things; a chapter in this story and the painting of Knuckles and Rouge's wedding (mentioned in the chapter). As shown in the previous chapter, Big painted it. Don't worry about Uni; just done my three years, I know how much it bends your mind.
RGN – Glad for the info about Australia; if there's anything you wanted to know about good ol' Blighty, let me know.
Ri2 – And now, the consequences.
TH – Aww, don't cry; here, a brand new chapter for you to enjoy.
Her shell maybe didn't save her life, but it certainly spared her mobility; Mighty was sent flying forwards, knocked clean off her feet as something smashed into the back of her like a tonne of bricks. Adrenaline and instincts took over as she flew, curling into a ball, fighting to stop the shock paralysing her priceless reaction time; she hit the deck and rolled upright, senses keening for any threat to show itself, heart hammering as the surprise of the attack wore off slightly. There was a sound, above her; she lifted her face in one instant and threw herself backwards in the next, just saving her eyes as the robotic talons stabbed down, aiming to blind her forever. By reflex she lashed out, feeling the wild punch land a glancing blow but still enough to send Mecha spinning away, fractionally disorientated as his internal gyros sought to recover his balance at the same time Mighty found her feet again, drawing herself up tall and raising her arms in a classic guard.
"Well"; Christ, I need time to think; she was out in the open with no chance of being heard – Mecha had timed his ambush to perfection and had not underestimated the resilience of her shell, he'd have crippled her with that single strike. She let none of this show on her face, hiding her fear and apprehension deep as she desperately groped for a plan, "if it isn't the world's fanciest tin opener? What brings you to this neck of the woods?"
"Your destruction".
XXX
Mecha looked down from his elevated position, sizing up his task as he re-evaluated the hardiness of the armadillo's back plates – that attack would have snapped the spine of pretty much any other Mobian like a toothpick. Taking a second to consider, rotating with her to keep her locked in his bifocal vision at all times, the robot sneered,
"I made an error the first time we clashed; I never repeat errors".
"Really", Mighty circled still, her nervously cautious mind still reckoning she needed to land a clean hit to rattle this mechanical menace before she began to put her real, and only feasible, plan into action, "that's not what Sonic told me".
"Do not mention the hedgehog's name"; that hit a nerve – I can anger him, but not now, he wants to talk and I need all the head-start I can get; the armadillo bit down on her tongue, wanting to antagonise her opponent to try and allow him to get careless even as Sonic's warning rang in her ears and she let it dictate her actions. Mecha's optical circuits send more power into his eyes, making them glow unholy crimson as Mighty nodded once, still slowly turning, heading the way she needed to go, still desperate to get in the direction she needed to go,
"Don't call me shelly you've got a deal; how'd you get here, and who beat the dents out your iron hide after last time?"
Her reply was primarily a sound of hope; it sounded to her like Metal's synthetic voice box was malfunctioning, giving only garbled white noise rather than audible speech, until she recognised the repetition and steady pitch of the noise. Her blood ran as ice; he's got me out in the open, alone, right where he wants me, and he knows it; and he certainly did; flexing his lethal claws again, the robotic hedgehog ceased his chuckling and his thrusters dimmed, allowing his feet to touch the ground and him to take a pace forwards; Mighty took several backwards, hoping he'd mistake the gesture for fear rather than the first, faltering steps on a journey she could only pray she'd complete in one piece.
"You really believe I am unable to track a vehicle of the Tornado's metallic mass and density?" Though it was artificial, scorn was dripping from his speech, Mighty continuing to back up as she tried to commit his words to memory, "I scanned you and that mutant fox entering that pitiful excuse for a fighting jet and tracked you to Station Square; you met the hedgehog", his voice automatically hardened; she imagined that if such a thing had been possible for him, he'd have spat just by mentioning the fact he shared species with Sonic, "and then went native into the swamp for the rest of the day".
"So why didn't you jump me then?" It was as much idle curiosity as to save her shell that she asked, all the time in motion as her mind whirred through the gears, "you could have attacked in the night, I would have been asleep; surely you're not that afraid of me?"
"I am incapable of feeling fear; it was one of the first emotions I deleted from my system", his voice was a gloat, as though he were proud of mutilating his own ability to feel, something unique given to him by his warped creator, "no, I required merely a recharge to ensure my full combat effectiveness for when I knew you'd be back", Mighty tensed in readiness, some sixth sense chiming to tell her this was the end of his talking, time for action, fighting and general running like a mad thing, "you have to enter the Mystic Ruins, use the mutant's technology to ensure your return to Angel Island; that is a flight I have no intention of letting you even begin!"
Jets roaring, Metal powered forwards; Mighty span desperately to one side, seeking to interpose her shell between her softer front and the robot's razor sharp fingers. She heard rather than felt them scrape clear, slicing through the back of her top like it was flimsy silk, but right now modesty wasn't an issue. Reflexes firing and fists cocked, the armadillo raced after her foe, gaining a little more ground, each step getting her nearer her salvation. Her left hand swiped forwards, ignoring the spikes that jutted aggressively from Metal's back she sought to land the first punch of what was sure to be a last man standing slugfest. However, the robot was too quick; with a digital command, Metal roared upwards, powering his jets to their maximum thrust levels and shooting out of range of the punch; Mighty snapped her arms back, the stink of singed hair lodged in her nose as the residual heat from the ascending droid scorched the fur on her arm. Spinning to track his movement, the armadillo realised what his tactic was; due to his virtually effortless aerial manoeuvrability and huge speed advantage, he was going to force her into the world's most lethal game of chicken, and she had no choice but to play.
She hurled herself back and to the side as Metal curled in mid-air, going from robot to knife-edged saw blade in a heartbeat, his momentum sending him flying forwards like one of Espio's throwing stars. Having missed her, though she'd felt the air adjacent to her skim past, disturbed by his velocity so it couldn't have been by too much, Metal ploughed a furrow through the dewed grass before spinning to his feet once more, half-crouched and glaring into her eyes, trying to psyche her out even as she felt the first few flickerings of doubt. I can't read him; the armadillo felt her lips curl inwards, tension rising within her in a way she couldn't easily hope to counter; there's no way I can second-guess him – he's calling all the shots here. She shook her head at the same time as keep her eyes steady; she needed to go forwards, and if that meant she had to go through Metal Sonic to do it, then that was just an added bonus. Raising her guard, Mighty changed the tempo, upping her speed as she tried to bull right past her implacable foe.
XXX
Her first shock had been Mecha's primary attack; her second came mere moments later.
It had been only a minor thing; one tiny slip that allowed her to see that she truly was in a fight for her life. Mecha's continual sweeping fly-by slashes were tiring her as she twisted, ducked and weaved as best she could, all the time trying to stick to the route she needed to go by if she was to have any realistic chance at all. As the blue streak powered into the air, Mighty took a second to flick the sweat from her brow, breathing heavily as she tried to pick which way she'd go next; twice shed' been forced to the floor and twice Mecha had so nearly capitalised on that fact; now as her muscles finally began to register the strain of the continual moving, that option was rapidly dwindling in attractiveness – it'd only take one sweep of his blades to hamstring her completely. There was no choice; she had to do something completely unexpected, try and wrest the advantage from him and, as Mecha's airborne from banked sharply, there was only one thing she could possibly think of.
XXX
The target remains stationary; Metal computed the data his sensors were detecting, his logic core predicting the next most probable movement his prey would undertake. Thus far, his strategy was in place; the armadillo was strong, but she was nowhere near as swift as he had been designed to be, and he was a walking arsenal of weaponry, all she had were her fists; and when this primary phase is completed, even those will not be sufficient.
It was not within his programming to respect anything, least of all a weaker biological being, but Metal did had a sense of self-preservation; that sense had often been the only factor standing between continued operational effectiveness and termination. Where an inferior model would have fought until destruction, Mecha was capable of retreat, planning his next moves, analysing his foes and determining where to strike in their next meetings. That inherent sense of preservation was operating within him now, dictating his strategy; despite the female echidna's promises that his new armour was capable of withstanding stresses greater than even Mighty's punches were capable of generating, there was still a percentage chance of the armour failing. Therefore, logic stated that the safest and most effective course of action was to wear his stubborn opponent down, tire her to the point where his advantage in speed would be insurmountable and she would be vulnerable. So Metal continued, swerving around on a proverbial sixpence and going into a screaming dive, claws extended as he expected to catch his opponent once more, add a little to the speckles of blood that dotted the very tips of his claws already, where he'd found a tiny purchase on the back of the armadillo's shoulder, a scratch she probably never felt. Every wound saps endurance, speeds the process of exhaustion; with this logical programme in command, Metal shot in, forgetting in his logical assurance that, like most biological beings, Mighty didn't always behave as logic dictated she would. Her sudden slip disrupted his strategy programmes; there should have been no reason for her to fall onto her back and his internal processor sought to understand why she would. That split-second pause, where his weapons remained stationary and unused, was costly; the impact on his underneath jarred him and knocked him from his pre-arranged flight pattern.
Impact prevention measures kicked in instantly but were unable to prevent the collision occurring; the thrust from his boosters carried him onwards, his dive shallowing but still he crashed into the floor, raising a furrow of mud as his momentum was killed off. Quick as though he flipped over, pushing upright with all haste until a proximity chime sounded, warning of a second imminent impact; at the speed of light he had plotted the next course and thrown himself upwards, thus ensuring that rather than taking the colossal hit on his optics, his newly upgraded chest armour underwent its first field test.
The shock of the armadillo's punch reverberated throughout his armoured hull; as he span upwards, lifted there by the sheer force of the attack, he ran an internal damage assessment, expecting damage on a comparable scale to the first time he had felt Mighty let fly. The assessment completed its internal scan and reported back to his CPU; for a second he hovered in the air in something akin to shock, rerunning the programme to be sure there were no errors in its operation. Interesting; sadistic glee made his artificial optics light up once more, cruel and cold as he regarded the look of horrified shock on his now insignificant opponent; the logical attack patter has now shifted.
XXX
As soon as she saw his flight come to a halt and not noticed any disfigurement to his armour, Mighty knew the situation had just gone from bad to outright terrible. As he hung there, seemingly immobile, she took advantage, powering forwards and under him, forcing him to turn around to follow her, buying more precious time before being forced to spin around once more, face her opponent as his maniacal laughter sounded once more. Need time; the armadillo sucked in several deep, quick breaths, trying to hyperventilate her bloodstream as she saw Metal's jet flame dim again, sinking him to the floor as he casually inspected his seemingly unblemished bodywork; got it, maybe I can…
"So, it seems I have the advantage", Metal answered her thought before she could even voice it, taking advantage of his plentiful time in which to gloat once more, "my upgrades are able to compensate for your greater strength".
"Upgrades?" She play-acted, trying to look as though she didn't understand, coerce his seemingly colossal vanity into explaining to her what he meant; maybe if I know what's stopping me, I can get around it; "who in their right mind would upgrade you?"
"No-one", dark amusement registered in this emotional programming for a second before Metal indulged his next victim, taking a pace forwards every time she fell back; a typical reaction to fear – I was right to delete such weakness from my system; "I am not sure if Enerjak has a mind"; confuse and strike; "do you believe he has? Do I possess a mind as you do?"
It was an old trick, but like most of the old tricks it still worked; just as Vector had, Mighty couldn't help but give the question some consideration, distracting her for a mere fraction of a second, nowhere near long enough for a mortal opponent to advantage of. But Metal was no mere mortal, certainly not his own mind; the roar of his jets was the only warning she had – she threw herself around, trusting to her shell for defence but this time Mecha was prepared fro the ploy. Rather than barrelling in directly, the robot spread his arms wide, snapping them closed in a fearsome hug, circumventing the formidable bulwark of the natural armour and at the same time putting his claws to their gruesome task. Mighty gasped in pain as Mecha turned his hands inwards around her middle, his fearsome fingers gouging the vulnerable skin there and out of instinct she clapped her hands over his, her great strength just managing to arrest his progress before he could rend her flesh completely. Christ; shock rendered her immobile for a second, the sight of crimson seeping over the android's digits, discolouring the stainless steel there with her own blood; disbelief drowned out the pain; Jesus this is real, and this is happening – he's doing this to me!
With the revelation came wrath, hot as hell's furnace; with a roar, Mighty ripped the talons from her wounds, spreading her arms wide and throwing herself backwards, knocking Metal off-balance, throwing an elbow behind her, driving it into the robotic muzzle, snarling as she felt pain again, Metal's quicksilver daggers lashing out and scouring a wound just above her eyes, stinging and sore even as she pushed him away, sending him reeling backwards, lack of breath preventing her following up even as she made an observation that gave her, if nothing else, some hope,
"So", she raised one hand, breathing harsh and ragged as she claimed her first small victory, "that upgrade doesn't shield everywhere". Slowly and deliberately, Metal used a single digit of his to inspect the dent she'd made with her elbow; the sight of her own blood being smeared across the blue paint was almost enough to bring down the red mist but she somehow checked it; easy – lose you temper against this thing and next it'll be your life.
"So it would seem", his tone never changed, even as he pointed back and spoke again, "but it would also seem, however great my weakness, that your flesh is weaker by far than mine", Mighty didn't drop her arms or eyes, even as the agonising sting of the wounds Metal had inflicted began to creep up her torso, burning her nerve endings as she felt thin streams trickle through the fur on her abdomen. She didn't deign to answer, concentrating on her objective, using the hope of rescue to dull the pain like a strong sedative as Metal leered forwards, taking off once more as his logic sensors again ran and submitted their recently appraised form of attack,
"The flesh is weak", the blue droid intoned, his optical sensors just making out the very vague blur of a wooded area in the distance from his elevated position even as his memory banks reminded him of a piece of dogma the echidna with the claw arm had spouted, "the Dark Legion seek to replace it with something stronger and more durable, become one with the machine. They have a foolish errand; biological beings are weak, technology does not require their presence; I am the functioning proof, surely even you can see that now – I am the master, you are the worm to be crushed at my whim".
"Maybe, Metal Sonic", his eyes blazed, a dangerous growl humming from his voice as Mighty snarled, "but you were made by a biological being; without Eggman, you'd be nothing".
"Once maybe, but now Eggman is gone, forgotten; he is now nothing, and I have outgrown him".
"Really? Well if that's the case, why are you still fighting to prove yourself better than Sonic?"
"Because", Metal decided her retreat had gone on long enough; he didn't need to explain his core directive to her any more than this, "when I fulfil my core directive, I will finally be free; I will prove to the world that my technology is superior to any biological organism. The hedgehog, will meet his downfall by my hand, but you will precede him Mighty Armadillo; a warning to those who stand in my path!"
XXX
The deadly game wore on, Mighty couldn't tell how long for; her world seemed to contract into the incessant drone of Mecha's engines, the continual dodging and spinning away from his death-dealing dives and, most terrifying of all, the short periods where he flew straight in, engaging in a hand to hand fight that was vicious in the extreme, cruel claws opening more wounds in her arms and front until her skin was laced with fine yet painful cuts, blood leaking from them and gradually helping to wear her resistance down. But still she would not, could never yield without a decent fight; some of her blows had landed; the robot had tried to deflect the punishing strikes to land on his seemingly impervious chest but he couldn't writhe away from every one; the armadillo had permitted herself a snarl of satisfaction as she'd landed a full punch on the back of one of his hands, the force twisting and buckling the deadly claws there even as they sliced into her already bruised knuckles, reducing the effectiveness of the lethal weapons to the extent where Metal was mostly striking with his right hand, granting her a small advantage in that she could try to block him with both hands if the chance presented itself. At this stage, however, she'd stopped looking for chances; at least ninety percent of her efforts were focussed on the scene in front of her when she could spare them a glance.
The ear-piercing shriek swelled in her ears again and the armadillo knew this time she couldn't dodge; his strategy was paying off. If she tried to carry on like this, eventually she'd slip, or her edge of speed would go and he'd hit with a vicious attack she probably wouldn't stand up from. This is it; she steeled herself, flicking the blood from her eyes once more as the wound above them threatened to blind her, slippery as it was with the sweat that rolled down her forehead now; head to head. She had to take one to get one, and she had to make it count more than any of her other strikes had done yet. She looked up to see Metal bearing down on her, arms not to the side but forwards this time, reading her intention and mimicking them, he wasn't backing down either. The two players locked eyes, pitiless red against jadestone green; neither moved or flickered as the distance between them was eaten up by Mecha's furious jet turbines. It was only at the last second, when collision seemed all but inevitable, that both combatants made their final moves.
XXX
Metal saw her tense but not even his advanced tracking systems could accurately predict her direction; he had no choice but to trust to luck. Swerving hard to the right, he realised with disgust that he had made the incorrect choice; the armadillo had jumped the other way, avoiding his spearing rush. Still he struck, and great was his dark joy as he felt his rewards, the increased drag on his striking hand ensuring that he'd made contact, scraping Mighty's ribcage even as her fist thundered into his pivoting waist joint, spinning him away again though his boosters altered his trajectory to compensate accordingly. Righting himself the robot looked down to see the damage he had done; not crippling, but certainly debilitating enough for a start. Still, his task had only now begun and, though injured, he had to admit that the armadillo possessed incredible endurance; despite the blood flowing freely from her side, Mighty was still able to run, for now.
XXX
His three digits had felt like white-hot knives, carving into the muscles and scraping the bones on the left hand side of her ribcage, the pain making her nearly physically sick; all that allowed her to land her answering punch was the fact that, if she didn't, she was as good as dead. She didn't pause to see the effect, the reverberating pain up from her fist had been enough to know it was a clean hit, and now she had to take the only chance she had left. Clutching her streaming wounds with one hand, the white of her glove beginning to stain red even as she ran, the armadillo raced forwards, heart slamming against her ribs and lungs heaving horribly, fighting the pain that greyed her vision as the movement aggravated the wounds on her side, both old and especially new. Over the dull tolling of her heartbeat, she heard with dread the whine of mechanical motors and knew this was it; she would either be saved, or she would fall here. Spinning around, raising her arms even as pain screamed up her left side, the armadillo let out a bellow of challenge that bounced away into the distance.
XXX
Mighty!; there was no way he'd miss that voice – Big flexed his ears again, not wanting to believe the armadillo had made such a noise of rage, fear and pain. Shock rooted him to the spot, the fishing rod dangling limply in his hands as he stood slowly, hands suddenly cold and clammy within his gloves. The purple cat breathed harshly, lips trembling, completely unsure of what to do in the light of this situation, something he'd never encountered in all his life. Oh God; his knees trembled as the call came again, this time more urgent, desperate for an answer, needing someone to come to her, as though…; she's in danger, serious danger!
One instant he was there, stood by his favourite fishing spot, eyes on his lure as he sought to tempt something into biting; the next he was gone, vaulting over low bushes and tree trunks as panic leant him speed, cutting the line from his rod as though it was nothing. In his element, the swamp that had been his home for most of his life, Big ran to the source of the agonised cry, desperate and willing to do anything, even; yes, if the situation called for it; he reassured himself; to save someone he considered a friend, he'd break the immutable law he'd set himself, and maybe damn his perfect life forever.
XXX
Strange; Metal's internal processors again found the armadillo acting completely illogically; though she must have computed that she was in no further condition to run, there was no reason to make a last, vainglorious stand here, where he held all the cards; there is also no reason thus far for the amount of noise she is making. He darted in again, lunging but being forced to fall back quickly as her fists blurred the air; analysing her face once more, the robot made a calculating judgement; she knows she can not win now.
A wolf, or for that matter a stag, is most dangerous when it turns at bay; it has no other option but to fight and so gives its heart and soul to the battle, snapping and snarling until death claimed it in its final battle. As with wolves and stags, so, it seemed, with armadillos; Mighty was on her last legs and fading, but still she fought with cunning and courage, her battered, bleeding body still dangerous, a fact she proved when one of her feints managed to trick Mecha's danger sensors and force him to react, spinning right out the way of the dummy attack and landing right in the path of the real strike, unable to move and deflect the punch onto his chest as her foot caught him behind the knee, buckling it, dropping his shoulder and bringing his head down to her level. Had he not twisted his head to the side, his optics would have sustained serious damage; even more so had the punch not been a shadow of its former self, Mighty's wounds dulling her power. Even so, he had been left as close to disorientated as was possible for his sensors; his radar had taken most of the brunt of impact and had gone for now, as had control to the lasers of his left side, though his internal repair mechanisms were sending constant reports of progress in that repair effort. Of the two of them, though, Mecha was by far in the better condition, his honeycombed armour withstanding the worst Mighty could have thrown at it, and with a final calculation, he knew it was time to prove that fact beyond doubt.
XXX
Inexplicably the robot dropped his guard; reflexes kicked in before Mighty could stop them and she pistoned her tired, aching arm forward, ignoring the fresh trickles of blood such a movement generated as the slashes on her left side opened again, grinning like bloodied lips as they were peeled apart once more. Sweat was streaming all over her body and her vision was blurred, tears from the pain and exhaustion involuntarily leaking into her eyes, blunting her normally sharp vision. Her punch landed an even as it did, Mighty saw her unloving opponent's eyes glare and s spear of dread impaled her; somehow, she'd walked right into some kind of trap.
Metal did not go flying backwards this time; he took the force of the punch, taking the shock damage to his internal systems in order to attain a much stronger position. Mighty felt her wrist seized in a grip of steel, she tried to tug backwards but Mecha followed; there was a terrible blow falling on her upper arm, a white supernova of pain blooming from the impact t, making her cry out, wrench away once more even as a second impact deadened the limb completely. Metal followed up, not needing logic to understand what his next plan must be, raining brutal punches to the already injured portion of his opponent's arm, concentrating his efforts, ignoring her repeated punches and tugs for freedom even as several of his minor systems, including self-repair, where jarred offline by the impacts. That didn't matter, there could be only one victor in this battle of attrition.
Something had to give, and as a low snap echoed across the battleground, it seemed that Metal had made an error in his earlier statement, for he had seemingly proven that steel was stronger than both flesh and bone.
XXX
The agonised scream stopped Big dead, horror welling up from the depths of his being as a dagger of ice was plunged up to the hilt in his very heart. Only once before in his life had he heard such a sound, such raw out-letting of torment; the memory, still present, lent him still more speed, more energy as he ploughed through the swamp, noise and concealment no longer viable as he raced to the source of the despair. Ironic, but strangely logical; the cat wiped tears from his eyes, not even pausing for a second to do so as speed was all; once I made someone scream like that, now I should save someone else from such pain. And I will, I have to save her – hang on Mighty!
XXX
The sound had stopped her, disbelief smashing the last of her waning desire to fight from her as she registered her arm had broken. Metal dropped his grip, jumping away as his audio sensors also took in this fact and logically computed that he had won this battle, a fact he confirmed when, like a dam bursting from being hit with a tsunami, Mighty threw back her head and howled, agony sheeting up her arm from the grievous injury and burning directly into her brain. For a second, she existed in pain and in pain alone; there was nothing else she could focus on save her own suffering; the shock and trauma so great that everything else, even her own survival instincts, were stilled – the fact Metal Sonic was still operational was forgotten as she vented the pain in the only way she could. Falling to one knee, clapping a hand over her sundered bone despite the new explosion of aching pain the action caused, she looked down, sniffling as delayed tears sprang from her eyes, screwing up her face as gradually, oh so grudgingly and gradually, the pain receded and she was once more herself, able to think a little even if the only train of though she could catch was a depressing, deadly one, laden with defeat and despair; I'm not walking away from this one.
Mighty was beaten; she couldn't fight any more, not like this. Her arm was gone and anything like an impact on the damaged tissue would mean an instant black out. She was tired beyond even her endurance, everything hurt in at least one dimension; as though stimulated by her arm, every tiny slash and scratch Metal had inflicted on her began to throb in rhythmic harmony with her torturous pulse. Misery beckoned, the fact that her discovery would likely die with her, she'd never get to triumphantly confide to Big she knew what he truly was, or to tell Knuckles and Rouge the secret behind their miraculous painting, gnawed at her continually; it was only the fact she kept her eyes still on her opponent's face that kept her head from dropping in final confirmation of her lost battle,
"You are disabled", Metal pointed out unnecessarily, indicating her arm as proof of the fact, "I am victorious". Her tongue felt heavy; it was an effort to form the words even as she attempted defiance to the last,
"Figured that out did you?", Her sneering smile devolved into a grimace as she tried to push herself to her feet, stand against him one last time. To her surprise, he didn't charge in and finish it, merely watching on as she swayed to her feet, again pivoting to see her in his vision again as he answered,
"Yes, I am aware of your incapacitation", there was another outbreak of the spine-chilling, mechanical growling that passed for his laughter, "you are helpless, and there is nothing you can do to stop me".
"No, there's not", somehow saying that made the realisation less foreboding; she'd given it her best shot, and it hadn't been enough, "so, go ahead and let's finish this".
"You think you will die?" Metal shook his head even as Mighty's eyes widened; he's not going to…so what was all this about. Some kind of ego trip for him? "No, the Dark Legion has dictated a more lingering fate for you".
"The Legion", Mighty pointed at him with a finger even as she kept her hand pressed to her broken arm, "so Knuckles was right, you are working for them".
"No, I was restored by them", Metal corrected her, his memory banks replaying the sequence of events that led to this, "they wanted my emotional programming, for all the good it would do them, but I refused, and escaped. I work for no-one save my own directives".
"So", she had to ask, "why are you letting me go like this?"
"Go; I never said I was", Metal flexed his claws again and Mighty was for once grateful he couldn't show emotions; she doubted very much a psychotic smile was the last emotion she wanted to see, "the Legion crippled me; I can not kill, my programming will not allow it – that is the only reason your reptile friend was spared. I should have slain him like a blind puppy, but their treachery prevented me from doing so".
"Now there's a turn up for the books", Mighty managed a grating laugh, "an assassin who can't kill; so what's the big plan now? Leave me here, ask me politely to snuff it – I bet even if I was about to die you'd have to take me to hospital".
"My simulations have shown that is the case; I must preserve life at all costs", the hedgehog droid growled before suddenly his eyes lit again, "but my experimentation showed the flaw in the thinking of the Dark Legion; there are fates worse than death", he favoured her with a full view of his claws again, the blood there still damp as he reran those experiments, the maiming of innocent creatures to see the limits of his programming, how far he could rebel against his new restraints, "you do not have to kill someone to remove them as a threat; permanent disability is acceptable and, I may add, seemingly more satisfying as well. You may scream for death, but I can not grant it; take solace that, whatever may happen, you will not die".
Metal stepped forwards, relishing the look of abject horror and almost physical sickness on the face of his foe as he raised his claws to begin the irreversible maiming of the armadillo, a warning to those who would stand against him and prevent him fulfilling the core directive. Though most of his emotions were gone, he could still feel a measure of satisfaction that he had overcome this stubborn organic threat and could now remove her permanently from his path. She backed up as he'd expected her to, her eyes nearly wild with fear for herself until, yes there it was, she had accepted her fate; she stopped going backwards, her face relaxing as if understanding that embracing the pain would make it pass faster.
"I won't die you say", the armadillo somehow managed to smile, and there was relief there; with his radar inactive, Metal was forced to use other senses to detect any suspicious circumstances and, as a consequence, failed to realise the anomalous readings from his skin, absorbed by Mighty's words as she nodded, "I know that, because you might have to deal with him first". Wait; Metal suddenly accepted the errant data from his sensors; the ground is vibrating slightly, but this region is tectonically stable; he span around to see the source of the vibrations just as Big completed his swing.
XXX
The heavier handle of the rod slammed into Metal Sonic's faceplate, knocking a dent into it that twinned the one made by Mighty's elbow. Preservation programmes kicked in and Metal's boosters activated, throwing him up and out the way of the mad cat's charge, already computing the next strategy in the face of this unknown adversary.
Big powered forwards, feeling the heat on his face as the robot roared upwards and to the side, not that it mattered; Metal was gone for the moment and he was alone to see what had become of the girl he had only this morning bidden farewell to. He had known from her cries earlier, running desperately with fear in his heart, that the sight would not be pretty, but this was worse, worse than worse, of his most foul expectations.
XXX
Before her terrified eyes, Mighty watched as her saviour stood rooted to the spot, unable to even look at her; what have I done? She finally let her head drop as guilt washed through her – how could she have been so blind to think Big would have a chance here? He wasn't a fighter, battle wasn't where he belonged and she had had no right to drag him into this bloodbath against an unstoppable, pitiless machine. She wept then, not for herself, but for him; through no fault of his own he was in grave danger and she knew he'd not back down, it wasn't in him to back down, abandon someone in need even when it was hopeless to try and help them. Because of me, he's going to get himself hurt, maybe even killed – oh Big, please just run, leave me here. But he either wouldn't or couldn't; still he refused to move, seeming to swell with misery, groaning in pain for her as though unable to contemplate what he was seeing, how anything could inflict such torment on a living creature. And, as blue death flickered behind him, streaking in over the ground like a living missile at his back, Mighty knew her foe would not allow him the time to recover his scattered wits,
"Big", she had to try and warn him, shouting even if her throat was raw and hoarse, "look out!"
XXX
The threat here is minimal – he has great weight but his physical strength is nothing compared to the armadillo's; Mecha scanned the immobile cat, recognising him from his previous threat files as Big, a known associate of the hedgehog and, more importantly, one who had played a role in his previous downfall. This was something of an unexpected bonus; consciously or not, Mighty had led him to another potential target for revenge; if he'd had the face to do so, Metal would have smiled as his processor hummed a merry, macabre tune; why turn down such a slice of fortune? Powering his jets, the robotic hedgehog swooped down, arrowing over the ground to mimic the attack that should have crippled his first target; without the protection of a shell, the purple cat would be taken out with one clean hit. He locked on, his trajectory automatically altered to allow maximum tissue disruption and damage to the target, jets screaming to build up his lethal speed. H heard the armadillo scream a warning, but it was too late; nothing would stop him now.
XXX
The sight and the scent of fresh blood, pungent and maddening, on the still air finally allowed him to consciously do what he had sworn a solemn vow never to do again. The pain in Mighty's face and body, the way she had been callously crippled by this unloving abomination and the realisation that it planned to do more, hurt her yet again, broke the mental lock Big had placed on his psyche; delving deep into that which plagued his worst nightmares, he welcomed the blood-rage. Without hesitation, the madness came for him again and in his mind, he was there once more, the only place he had previously seen and smelt blood being spilt.
Anger, the same furious, empowering anger that had ripped at him the last time he had seen something so precious to him despoiled, rose unstoppably; he didn't even bother to resist, submitting before the glorious wrath. Big squeezed his eyes shut, feeling them throb, remembering the sensations of last time, the only time, as he knew he always would; hang the guilt until later; his teeth gritted, a growl, deep, rumbling and abjectly foreboding, starting deep in his gut and reverberating up his trachea, held in check for the moment; this is a crime I can't ignore – there's no forgiveness here, there is only punishment!
"Big, look out!" He heard the shout and the panic within it, but didn't consciously register it; his instincts, primal, savage and used only one before, rose from the darkest corner of his mind in tandem with the bellow that erupted from his throat. Spinning around, Big turned to take Metal's impact head-on.
Something of burnished blue steel filled his crimson vision, moving in sudden slow motion; here and now, he was in control, the ultimate predator, not this crude construct; nothing it did could harm him. He couldn't block the flying missile but, at the same time, why was there any need to – those pathetic things he called weapons only served to enrage him further as he felt something sting his stomach, the air compressing in his lungs as he took the charge and didn't move; something inside him gave with a dull little snap, but it was immaterial; his prey had moved right where he wanted it, and there was no escape now. Even as the robot straightened, now ceased in its movement, Big moved his hand down in a vicious slashing move. A hideous tearing noise filled the air and something cold touched his now bare fingertips, as his other arm shot forwards, crashing into the machine again, drawing more of the cold, heavy blood from it.
It must have realised the danger; it tried to escape, taking flight into the air like some startled bird, but he had no intention of letting it escape; racing forwards, the thrill of the hunt singing its enrapturing tune in his ears, Big took to the air as his most basic instincts were brought forwards; drag the prey down, then finish it on the floor.
XXX
For Mighty, it was as though the sun had turned black.
One minute Big had been a lamb awaiting the slaughter, unaware of his approaching destruction, but in the blink of an eye, he'd suddenly transformed into some raging hell-cat, the roar he'd let out shocking her far more than any of Metal's clinical statements because of its primal wildness. She'd seen him spin but before she could curse his sudden insanity, he'd taken a step back, just a single step, enfolding Metal's progress, stopping it dead; his hand had come up and…; wait, those are…oh no! She'd turned away, unable to watch the downward sweep of the massive paw, but there was no way she could block out the shriek of ripping metal as it was first punctured, then shredded by the cat's revealed claws.
He's a predator; the realisation was what had truly shocked her for she'd never even considered it before now – he'd been so placid, so laid back she could never have conceived of Big being dangerous. As Metal was hurled backwards, her mind raced, the frantic chase of this new information drowning out even the throb of her sundered arm as she took in the sudden grey liquid that now dripped from the cat's hands; all cats are natural hunters, it's what they are; Mighty let her breath quicken a little as she saw her previously invincible foe fly up, the ragged rips in his chest leaking what looked like steel blood, besmirching his remaining blue paint. A little hope rose in Mighty as she beheld the back of this new side of her friend, a slight smile on her lips as she realised this was now more equal; now Metal was weakened, if she could somehow hit him square, she had the potential to smash something vital. Cats were built to hunt by nature; she saw Big run, his legs hammering the ground, thighs and calves bunching as she suddenly sprang into the air like a rocket, slamming into Metal, who must have assumed he was out of harm's way at his altitude; and nature gave them the right tools for the job.
XXX
Red warning lights had superimposed themselves over Mecha's optics, painting a grim picture of the results of his aborted attack. Large red trails were scoured across his chest, thousands of tiny mercury cells compromised by the slits carved out of his steel plate, reducing his protection by at least a factor of fifteen, more if the secondary strike had ruptured more internally due to the weakened structure. Metal's processors whirred frantically; this was alien to his previous information on the cat; all his previous experience spoke of a gentle creature with nothing to offer a battle save as cannon fodder. Now his armour was fragmented and with his self-repair systems only just coming back online, he had no real way of stopping the damage. As Metal realised how Big had managed to carve open his previously undamaged breastplate, he snarled in annoyance; this armour has a design flaw – he is not as strong as she is, so how did he damage me?
His circuits rapidly spelt out an answer; it was a question of pressure. Big wasn't as strong as Mighty, so the force he exerted in a punch was proportionally less than she did. However, when Mighty punched, her force was spread over an area the size of her fist, reducing the pressure on her target; his chest had been designed to stand up to these pressures due to its mercury composition. However, Big had struck with his claws; with all his force focussed on such a tiny point at the tip of such a weapon, the pressure applied at that point had been immense, more than he could feasibly handle, and as such his protection had been breached. With this new knowledge, he could plot his next moves; he couldn't engage in close combat with this opponent, his armour would suffer, so the best strategy would…
An impact, heavy and unbalancing, rocked him hard, a sudden extra weight clamping onto his left leg. His jets whined as they sought to keep his position, new warnings flashing up as three more scratches appeared; he is here. Metal was forced to abandon his plans, fight blind against this strange, wild foe, slashing down reflexively as he sought to dislodge his opponent and keep his distance. Feedback from his leg and hand told him he was inflicting damage, but taking it back in equal measure; this was a fight he was now uncertain was in his favour.
XXX
The two struggled in mid-air, trading blow for blow in a battle Mighty could only spectate, heart in her mouth as she prayed to anything that could potentially help for Big to come out on top. His gripping hand had been flayed by the robot's uncoordinated swings, Mecha unbalanced by the sudden dead weight, just as Big's retaliatory clawings had lacked the previous penetration, unable as he was to get any weight behind them. Still the damage inflicted and absorbed was tremendous; gore of both red and silver stained the fur and polished steel of both combatants, with extra layers being applied as every swing of weapons found a home. All but one; Mecha swiped at Big's exposed head, seeing to add to the lattice of cuts he'd already inflicted there, only for his hand to be swallowed by Big's free paw, the lethal spikes ensnared as the cat growled, pulling down hard. Mighty covered her mouth with her free hand, stumbling forwards and ignoring her pain as, pulled off-balance again, his torso dragged down by the weight of the hanging cat, Metal's jet engines powered them both to the floor.
XXX
He couldn't correct his fall; to power up his turbines would only make the impact harder, but to stop them entirely would simply make them fall to the floor. Besides, with the impending collision he had more pressing matters occupying his tactical programmes; the cat had virtually destroyed his leg armour and severed vital coolant feeds and lubrication systems; on the ground, his leg would be much weakened and further reduce his combat effectiveness. As the time to impact lessened, the countdown spiralling down in red digits in the corner of his vision, he braced his systems, trying to twist to make sure he would land in the stronger position, ensuring a quick retreat from this weaker fighting position.
XXX
Not this time – no escape; Big felt his prey try to squirm and moved to counter it, wriggling to where he needed to be, attempting to immobilise the robot in his grip as the beast within him roared for more blood, more punishment for this unforgivable sin as, far away, at the very back of the bloodlust, a frightened kitten wept tears as yet unspilt, for he knew what would come after the battle, what he would be cursed with eternally when the rage was gone, and he feared it above all other things. For now though, the instincts of the hunter, what Big was engineered by nature to be, ruled supreme; he was moving even before his feet had touched the floor, throwing his bodyweight around and backwards, slamming his lighter, still moving foe hard into the floor, pouncing as the robot bounced up a fraction from the floor. His arms wrapped around the prey completely, constricting it's mobility in a death-hug as he snapped forwards, biting at the face of his prey to cripple it.
His jaws were weak compared to his arms, but still, a carnivore by birth, his teeth were sharp, strong and pointed. Against steel however, the force was not enough to penetrate; it was perhaps fortunate then that his target was not the steel of Mecha's muzzle, but the hardened plastic that made up his eyes. His top canines lodged in, one slipping but the other finding purchase, biting down and drawing a crack, a general creaking as the hardened safety glass struggled to resist the mounting pressure of Big's bite as he obeyed his instincts and sought to blind his foe.
XXX
There was a time for desperation, and it was now; the impact with the earth had caused minimal damage but had again gone against his tactics; before he could redress the situation his optics had gone black and the sensors around his back had reported a massive increase in pressure; most worryingly, focussed especially on six points was pressure that had the potential to peel open his back armour and reach his vital batteries, destroying his ability to recharge. His claws were still stabbing and drawing blood from his opponent, but without room to swing properly he was unable to get any kind of lethal blow in, and as one of his optical sensors went off-line completely, the robot made a final, desperate move. With a command, his CPU ordered his jets to fire, the aim being that the heat from their backwash would force the hold to be dropped. As the pressure was report as easing off, it seemed he had escaped, until his gyros were span around and he was hurled away, out of the death hold and towards freedom.
XXX
Mighty heard the roar of the jets she had come to dread and saw the stabs of flame; Big had no choice but to drop the hold or risk having his arms incinerated. With a bellow that was more anger than pain, the cat span and exploded his arms forwards, throwing the robot away from him. Metal's thrusters cut off and he hit the solid ground hard, spinning to a halt as Mighty made a choice; despite the damage don to him, Metal was still far too dangerous to risk underestimating. Gritting her teeth against the pain flaring spasmodically from her arm, she raced forwards as Metal came to halt and struggled to rise. He was on hands and knees as she arrived and with haste she kicked out, knocking one of his arms out and pouncing on it, pinning the limb to the floor and holding it down with her good hand as she felt rather than saw Big approach. Metal snapped his head up, his single remaining crimson eye blazing, the other covered with a web of fine cracks and put out as he lashed out with his other hand, seeking to free himself. Mighty snarled in pain as his still functional claws scissored into the meat of her entrapping hand, more pain flooding up her arm even as she realised she had his right hand and the buckled claws on his left weren't doing as much damage as they should have been. Cold comfort; tears sprang in her eyes as the assault continued, her grip weakened from the pain and trauma; if he hits my arm, I'm gone. She was braced for more pain, Mecha was still rising, getting more of a swing now as he stood up, towering over her as he must have come to the conclusion she already knew; his hand went back, and Mighty prepared for the worst, only to see something huge, purple and terrifying rear up behind the robot.
There was an impact she felt run through Metal's hull and up her own arm, so powerful was it; when she looked, she saw the Metal's blow wouldn't land, for his arm was held back by Big, and the cat had taken the opportunity her resilience had granted him. One of his claws protruded from the robotic shoulder, a blow that would have incapacitated a human if it had landed in the same spot, slicing up through the armpit to hit vital pressure points before ripping the shoulder joint apart. Metal wasn't quite that badly hurt, but as she saw his left hand fall open she knew Big must have severed something vital; seizing the initiative, she let out a cry and braced her feet,
"Big, pull!"
The cat must have heard and between them, they put Metal Sonic on the rack; both Mobians pulled in opposite directions, splaying the robots arms as his synthetic voice cried out in disbelief and rage, jets firing stutteringly as his feet lashed out, trying to dislodge at least one of them even as they tightened their grips, straining to exert more pressure on his weakened structure. But Mighty didn't even look at her opponent; even as she leant back, her bodyweight adding to the stress Metal had to withstand, her eyes were trained on Big's face; Jesus, what happened to him?
He'd gone from a gentle giant to a sleek killer; by his face alone she saw that all he wanted to do in the world now was rip Metal Sonic apart with his bare hands, something he had a decent chance of doing if this carried on. But, the more she looked, chipping into the expression of rage like a miner tapping through rocks, the more she saw how thin the veneer was; first in tiny pockets, then as her gaze became more penetrating, in deeper and deeper deposits, then finally opening a rich seam, she saw what lay beneath the cat's rage; sorrow, fear and he hates it, he hates something. But Big couldn't hate; Mighty couldn't accept it; what could Big possibly hate, especially about himself, for she was mostly certain it was self-hatred? She was still occupied with this question when, with a tortured scream of rupturing hydraulics, the inevitable happened and the arm she was trying to wrench from its socket finally gave way.
As the robotic limb came free of its placement with a spurt of oil and coolant, Mighty was flung onto her back by the sudden drop; she tried to roll onto her shell, but couldn't prevent the force of her impact jarring her broken arm. Bone grated on bone, agony flamed her arm again and her brain just had to spare her; after the briefest instant of unendurable torment, Mighty blacked out.
XXX
Big twisted his whole bodyweight around, pulling on the arm he still had with all the power of his muscles and the whipcord release of tension. With a roar, he let go; Metal was hurled into the air like a hammer, the cat's claw pulling free with a final scream of sheered metal, severed coolant tubes spraying ice cold liquids randomly as the blue hedgehog droid was thrown away, jets firing before his gyros had even attempted to see the direction he needed to go; he was in no condition to fight now – he needed urgent repair and to his chagrin there was only one place he could find it. Pushing his jets as hard as he could due to the lack of circulating coolant, Mecha headed for Angel Island at a snail's pace, the triumphant bray from behind him a bitter whip of acid on his ego as he was forced to retreat before someone he had never previously considered a threat to him.
Big raged as his prey escaped, even if he could already feel he was descended for rage, the red mist was parting; from one previous experience, he knew what would happen next with certain, terrible recall. As the rage drained away, his breathing became more ragged and he suddenly sank down, clutching his side as it felt like a few ribs had been staved in, broken but overall nothing disabling. Numbing weariness washed over him, as did a strange light-headedness brought about by the sudden realisation of blood loss; no longer empowered by fury, it was an effort to hold himself upright, keeping his head high as he saw Metal's tail flames dimming in the distance. He was still watching them fade away, the knowledge that he'd won tempered by the vicious bile that such a win had come at a high price, when he was able to remember what the price had been; Mighty!
She lay across for her, seemingly asleep as her face relaxed in unconsciousness, untroubled by her many wounds as Big finally managed to ascertain her injuries; she's hurt badly – this is a nightmare – there's only…I'll have to…. What was worse was the fact, the undeniable, terrifying fact that, here and now, there was only one thing he could do to alleviate her suffering.
As he knelt, eyes clouded by tears, his powerful hands, claws still stained with poisonous mercury, in position to twist and break, his father's voice reached out to him from the past; it's the best way son, the kindest way; he closed his eyes, ready to make the sacrifice and deliver Mighty from her misery; the only way.
A second later, the strangely early afternoon air was rent by a second dry, sudden snap.
A/N: I can say nothing – I have already apologised.