Notes: This has been on my AO3 for a while, but I haven't posted it here because ffn literally hates all creativity when it comes to strange formatting. As a result, I had to remove all my indents and add spaces in my numbers so this website wouldn't eat them. But, at least this chapter is finally here. At least there's that. (Grumble grumble.) (ALSO! The align center button is broken! And there's no edit with HTML option! Basic functionality-do you have it?)
Breaking Point
Ch. 3: Resistance Items Log
RESISTANCE PERSONAL ITEMS LOG
BUNKER #267, MYSTIC RUINS/STATION SQUARE BRANCH
RESISTANCE MEMBER: Knuckles, #2671
ROOM #136
TRANSLATOR: Tails, #2672
PERSONAL ITEMS, AS REPORTED BY RESISTENCE MEMBER #2671
Smuggled from: TAILS'S WORKSHOP in the early evening thru the early morning of August 21, 20XX via tunnels. STATUS OF THE WORKSHOP UNKNOWN
1.0: one (1) pair of shoes, sneakers, yellow and red, no laces
1.0.1: origin unclear; construction unlike anything found on the surface, found amongst rubble as a child and grown into at around age 13.
1.1: socks, green, five (5) pair, large thread
1.1.1: hand sewn with store bought thread, a wooden needle, at night by firelight; some of the stitches are uneven and crooked, but they are sturdy and will not need replacing unless they are burned.
2.0: gloves, two (2) pair, large thread
2.0.1: origin unclear; large, antique thread, fitted and tailored by firelight to fit tight around fists and spikes; an extension of the wearer; have never ripped and will not need replacing unless burned.
3.0: one (1) windbreaker, red, pink, blue, orange, yellow, in a geometric print
3.0. 1: originally Sonic's, stolen from his bedroom in order to work as a sling to carry canned goods (now found in the kitchens)
3.0. 1.1: bought at a thrift store in Empire City; tried on and ripped on hedgehog quills in excitement; when the clerk saw, her expression made it all worth it; laughed so hard we both cried.
3.0. 1.2: Sonic said, "You break it you buy it" as he shoved some money across the counter.
3.0. 1.3: the only reply I could come up with, "You didn't break it, you ripped it."
3.0. 1.4: that night, sewed up by lamplight, modified to fit hedgehog quills; he thanked me and it felt like it was for more than the jacket. (Translator's note: no real mobian translation exists for this.)
3.1: torn zipper, needs to be mended; Sonic said it gave it character
4.0: one (1) leather jacket, black, buttons and zippers, well-worn
4.0. 1: stolen from Sonic's room, called it his "flying jacket."
4.0. 1.2: only saw him wear it once, when he found his way to the Island on a Wednesday afternoon (as he informed me).
4.0. 1.2. 1: time doesn't exist on the Island, not the way surface dwellers see it; there is no sunrise and sunset when you move above the planet, under the atmosphere; days do not exist so much as pass unnoticed.
4.0. 1.3: we spent the afternoon together, picking the ripe fruit in Marble Garden, munching on apples and plums
4.0. 1.4: he packed lemons into his pockets, "for lemonade," and I pretended not to notice when they spilled out and thudded to the ground when he moved too fast
4.0. 1.5: he paid his respects to the Master Emerald, bowed so that his forehead could touch it, hands spread over its surface, whispering so fast that I couldn't understand the language
4.0. 1.6: the jacket spread under us as we looked at the stars, arguing over constellations
4.0. 1.6. 1: "the warrior protects us from invasion"
4.0. 1.6. 2: "no, the guardian protects the planet from Chaos."
4.0. 1.6. 3: "oh, so I'm in the sky?"
4.0. 1.6. 4: "if anything, that's me up there."
4.0. 1.6. 5: "really Knuckles? You? What have you ever done that deserves astronomical remembering?"
4.0. 1.6. 6: "deal with you, for one."
5.0: one (1) polaroid camera, bumped and bruised, strap tied into knots
5.0. 1: rescued from Tails's full hands in the tunnels; originally from Sonic's room; probably grabbed by the fox in a panic, with the hope that Sonic will use it again
5.1: two (2) rolls of film, still in the boxes, thrown into the windbreaker sling amongst the canned food; unopened but perhaps useful
5.2: photo album, thirty-two (32) photos, four (4) to a page; at least five (5) years
5.2. 1: a few of a creature I've never seen before, of a species that I don't recognize: magenta, with a large green bauble about his neck
5.2. 2: the last photo, the most important, Sonic, days before he went missing, kissing someone we can't quite see, from the back; six (6) head quills, two (2) back quills, small fly-aways that always need to be set back into place
5.3: green bauble (1), knotted into the strap
6.0: a mug, ceramic, white with a child's painting of multi-colors
6.0. 1: "World's Best Dad" it says, an eternal joke between Sonic and Tails
6.0. 1.1: he served me coffee in it once, an early morning when neither of us could sleep
6.0. 1.2: sky sun-lit, pale and clear
6.0. 1.3: cold winter, snow on the ground, making it brighter still
6.0. 1.4: a set of Tails's gloves, ripped from the workshop, in desperate need of attention, splayed on the table like a child's dissection in science class; a needle, metal in my hands
6.0. 1.5: busy energy in the air as Sonic makes coffee, leverages all of his weight into the push pedal on the trash can to throw out the grounds; jittery hands trying to sew, not always the best but it worked out
6.0. 1.6: "I apparently don't know what the word dad means," I said as I spun the mug around.
6.0. 1.7: "would you have a framework for that?" Sonic said. "You living alone and all?"
6.0. 1.7: there's a certain smartness that follows Sonic around; it's easy to forget about, but then he says things like that and you're struck by how he sees the world a bit sideways from everyone else, approaches things from different angles
6.0. 1.8: "That's none of my business," Sonic cut across before I could answer, probably taking my silence as offense. "A dad is a male parental figure, but the mug is a joke."
6.0. 1.9: an imperceptible cock of my head, a blink, nostrils flared in thought
6.0. 1.10: "Everyone says I'm a father figure for Tails. He made me that mug a few months ago. Turn it."
6.0. 1.11: I spun it again, squinted, and there, small and bleeding together, a date, and under that, a blue, spiky figure and a red, rounded one, holding hands.
7.0: one (1) guitar, acoustic, strings perfectly tuned
7.0. 1: retrieved on a secret trip, after the bunker doors had been locked closed for the fallout; tunneled under everything, came up in the Workshop, plaster falling from the ceiling, walls rattling, pictures falling, electricity flickering
7.0. 2: ducked through the house, kept low to the ground, crawled up the stairs, coughed on dust and ash, punched through Sonic's bedroom door, gathered guitar, binder of sheet music, case
7.1: binder of sheet music, black, drawn all over with white paint marker: music notes, time signatures, music notation things, small hearts and stars
7.2: guitar case, covered with bumper stickers from all over the world, bent in the middle, leather peeling off, gray under all those stickers
7.2. 1: Central City, Sonic on a charity bender, feeling guilty and wanting to help everyone; set up near the main park on a bench, guitar case open in front of him, strumming and humming in warm up
7.2. 2: case already confetti'd with bills, both high and low; the money is for sick kids, he told people as they stopped by, asked for autographs, asked for pictures
7.2. 2.1: they trusted him like Santa Claus; they left their money with him, trusting that he would take it to where he said he would; trusted him differently from how I did: I trusted him to watch my back, to share a bed, to have his head near my heart; they trusted like he was a mythical creature.
7.2. 3: when asked about me: "this is Knuckles, my boy—best friend."
7.2. 4: no one ever noticed the slip
8.0: three (3) Chaos Emeralds, green, yellow, red, kept in a locked box in a locked safe under the bed
8.1: the green, found in a Special Zone in Mystic Ruins by Tails, two months before the bombing
8.2: the yellow, found for sale in Shamar in a caravan; Sonic spent far too much on it, but declared it was worth it when he saw Tails nearly breathe fire
8.3: the red, presented to me as "a ruby," with a gentle, small smile, late at night; I had been asleep on the couch and woke up to Sonic on one knee before me, holding the Emerald out
8.3. 1: it cast a strange glow on the room, made his face seem warm and familiar, his teeth brighter, smile true and genuine
8.3. 2: "I found this for you," he whispered. "A ruby."
8.3. 3: "That's an Emerald."
8.3. 4: "No, it's ruby like you."
8.3. 5: sat up, took the Emerald, noticed Sonic's position on the floor, said, "Are you trying to be romantic again?"
8.3. 6: his grin only widened. "Is it working?"
8.3. 7: I've never trusted that smile, but something about the glow, the moment, the sound of the wind outside, made me drop my guard. "If it is, what's your goal?"
8.3. 8: no verbal reply; he leaned forward, so close that I could see the individual furs on his face, looked into my eyes, waiting for permission or encouragement
8.3. 8.1: I haven't lived on the surface for long, but I knew this: Sonic's love of words, words from vocal chords, tone and emotion, positive or negative; no assumption from him, only things verbalized before he moved.
8.3. 9: "Yes, kiss me already."
9.0: one (1) rugged, "field" sewing kit, for mending:
9.0.1: socks,
9.0.2: gloves,
9.0.3: jackets,
9.0.4: hearts.
Reviews are cherished.