EPISODE I: Lost & Found


A/N: A huge chunk of this has already been written and posted on AO3, so this version will be updated on a "once a week" basis.


"Doctor Eggman, the facility is in one hundred percent lockdown," Decoe announced, turning his gaze away from the console before him to focus on the evil mad scientist in question.

"Why do Sonic's friends always get in my way?!" Eggman threw up his arms in frustration. Metal Sonic lurked nearby in the shadows, as it always did, blood-red eyes glowing in the darkness. Its arms were crossed over its chest as it watched its master pace, muttering to himself.

Perhaps his time would be better spent dealing with the intruders rather than throwing a fit.

"They don't get in your way, Doctor Eggman," Cream spoke up, huddling with her Chao inside the clear glass-like capsule they were imprisoned in. "They just try to stop you from doing all the bad things you like to do."

"Chao-chao!" the Chao in her arms added.

"Ooh, is that so?" Eggman drawled. "Well, they're too late to stop me this time! Once I insert the last Chaos Emerald, my World Roboticizer will be invincible! Imagine it— a world of metal, only metal!"

"But you can't do that!" Cream protested.

"Chao-chao-chao!" her annoying little blue pet screeched.

"That's right!" Cream said. "They won't let you get away with this!"

"You're wrong Creamy-dreamy!" Eggman laughed. "They can't sto— hurr?"

The door behind him was reduced to rubbish, dust and bits of rubble collecting in thick clouds. From the swirling wisps emerged a visibly pissed off Knuckles. He slid one first underneath his other hand, bones cracking. Alongside him stood Julie-Su, armed with two fully loaded energy pistols.

"Alright," Knuckles growled, his voice rumble, "so which one of you is game to go to the scrap yard first?"

"Ohhh, Metal," Eggman called.

Metal Sonic stepped forth from the shadows, sharp metal claws glinting softly.

. . . .

Rebooting systems…

Reboot complete.

Running system scan…

Primary systems at 78% efficiency. Activation sequence initiated. Countdown from 10.

10… 9… 8… 7… 6… 5… 4… 3… 2… 1… 0.

Crimson irises flickered into existence against the black. A night sky filtered into the unit's vison. A tilt of the head. There was a perfect rectangle of water, lit up with lights lining submerged walls. A steady hum reverberated from somewhere within the water.

After what felt like a long time, the unit came to realize it was still lying on its back, and quickly tried to push itself into a sitting position. Only one hand brushed against the stone underneath it. In a panic, it whipped its head around to see its left arm was missing, only a mangled mess of wires left behind.

Why did sensors not register this?

It lifted its head to find its entire lower half in a very similar state. A shrill beep escaped its muzzle.

"Are you okay?!"

The unit beeped again, louder as a gangly, fleshy lifeform bumbled into view. A strong wave of familiarity struck the unit, but it could not discern why.

Scanning memory archives…

Search results: One file. METAL SONIC.

Only one?

Opening file…

Unit Designation: METAL SONIC. Height: 100cm. Weight: 41.00475 kg (90.4 lbs). Capabilities…

The unit dubbed "Metal Sonic" would have continued examining the file, except now the strange creature decided to get too close for Metal Sonic's comfort. The unit lifted its hand, showing off its sharp claws in the hopes of looking menacing enough that the fleshling would back off.

"Hey, I'm not gonna hurt you," the fleshling said quietly, halting its approach and instead kneeling down where it was. "I just wanna help if I can."

Metal Sonic eyed the fleshling cautiously. There was not much the unit could do in this state. Well, technically it could not do anything. It could not fight or escape. As far as it could tell, the organic posed no visible threat.

Currently.

Metal Sonic slowly dropped its hand. The organic took that as a sign, and moved closer, carefully pulling the unit into its arms. "My name's Chris," the fleshling spoke again. "What's yours?"

Metal Sonic stared blankly up at the fleshling. The unit was not capable of speech. Perhaps if it still had its other hand, it could at least communicate via sign language. But it did not have its other hand, therefore such communication was at the moment impossible.

"You can't talk?" the fleshling "Chris" asked. An answer to that Metal Sonic would at least be able to deliver. It shook its head no. Chris hummed, and then seemed to struggle a bit. "You're really heavy."

Metal Sonic released a beep of annoyance.

After struggling uselessly to move Metal Sonic anywhere outside of a few feet, Chris had gone to retrieve someone else for assistance. Metal Sonic laid there in wait, the minutes dragging out.

"You found a what out here, Chris?" The new voice was heavy with exhaustion, as though the unit had just been reactivated. Metal Sonic turned its head to see Chris and the new fleshling unit, a very wrinkled one with frizzy grey hair, rounding the corner of the mansion. The wrinkled fleshling stopped, staring wide-eyed at Metal Sonic. "Holy mother of…" It placed a hand on its head, still staring.

"They're hurt pretty badly," Chris spoke, kneeling back down beside Metal Sonic. "Can you help me get them into—?"

"Yes, yes, of course!" The wrinkled fleshling was quick, moving to Metal Sonic's other side. Both organics slid their arms underneath Metal Sonic and lifted it up, grunting against the unit's heavy weight. Slowly but steadily, they started trudging along. "What in holy barbeque sauce is this thing?"

"They're not a thing, Grandpa," Chris instantly protested.

"Sorry, Chris," the wrinkled fleshling "Grandpa" said. "It— they're not like any other robot I've ever seen."

"Same here," Chris muttered.

Grandpa hummed. "Let's just get them into the lab, and I'll see what I can do."

. . . .

Grandpa stared at the readings popping up on his computer screen. This machine may have seemed odd enough on the outside, but looking at these scans— this robot was almost completely alien to him. And oddly enough, there were… some strange discrepancies in this mechanical mystery. Parts that heavily resembled organs that had no clear purpose, if any purpose at all.

They weren't even doing anything, they were just sitting there in the robot's carapace!

Nonetheless, despite the strange and alien nature of the machine, he was confident he could repair it. Granted, the new limbs would not be nearly as advanced, but they would serve their purpose.

"Do you think you can fix them?" Chris asked. He was sitting on a stool by the workbench, upon which their mysterious visitor lay.

"I can repair them, yes," Grandpa finally spoke, turning away from his computer to look at his grandson. "You say they can't speak?"

The machine beeped shrilly at him. Grandpa couldn't exactly speak robot, so all he could do was regard the machine with a frown.

"I've never seen anything like this," he said. "I'm not sure if they were even built at all."

"Huh?"

Grandpa shook his head. Then he crossed his arms and gave Chris a stern look. "Shouldn't you be in bed anyway, young man?"

"But, Grandpaaaaa—" Chris whined.

"Don't 'but Grandpaaaaa' me. Go to bed," Grandpa told him, firm. "Your new friend will still be here in the morning."

. . . .

Metal Sonic watched Grandpa's every move, not letting him out of its sight for even a second. Just because the fleshlings spoke of repairing the unit did not mean that they would. Everywhere in the lab that the old fleshling went, Metal Sonic's eyes would follow.

Grandpa seemed to take notice of this as he started attaching a leg to the unit, slowly working on connecting the wires first with the help of some tiny metal instruments.

"Not a people person, huh?"

Metal Sonic merely continued to watch him.

"Can't really blame you, I guess," Grandpa went on. "People are kind of fickle. Even my own son—" He cut himself short. A long pause. "People are fickle," he said again.

More silence stretched out, across many minutes, before he spoke up once more.

"I don't know what you are. Can't tell where the machine ends and the… whatever you were before begins." Grandpa paused both his words and his work, lifting his head up to study Metal Sonic's face. Fiery red optics glared right back at him. "Look kinda like a… not a porcupine. A hedgehog. Wonder why blue though? I mean, I guess it looks nicer than brown…"

He lowered his head, resuming the connecting of circuits.

"How rude of me," Grandpa suddenly said, pausing his work again. "I never actually introduced myself, have I? The name's Chuck Thorndyke. Everyone calls me Grandpa though—"

He stopped when he saw the widening of Metal Sonic's eyes— the unit was too late in trying to cover it up. The designation "Chuck" brought a burning of familiarity into its circuitry, but it could not understand why.

"That name mean something to you? Chuck Thorndyke?"

Metal Sonic shook its head. It had no data on any other individuals named "Chuck." And even if it did, why would it share said information with this fleshling?

Grandpa grunted and returned his gaze to the leg. "I've pinched myself five times already and I still think I'm dreaming," he muttered.