Bah, the fox was sleeping, so was about everyone. Did any of them have planned sleep schedules?
Oh wait... they actually did; it was just the resident robot who didn't. Stylus mumbled some vulgarities at an incredibly low volume as he stepped silently down the stairs.
It was a nice night, and his energy charge was at maximum. What should he do for the next eight hours? His charge could last about a week from full to empty, but he preferred keeping it high with short recharge breaks in-between short worktimes. Stylus found it more efficient.
He left the property, walking around in his new attire. He never got to really explore the rest of the city. Stylus continued going up and down random roads and streets, committing his chosen directions to uncorrupted memory. He took note of unique landmarks, a street surrounded by nothing but giant apartment complexes, a road with a set of stores in a single building- similar to the one convenience store the robot had been to when he first arrived. A playground on one side, a school on the other. It was a typical area between the suburbs and full-blown city, a small town engulfed by the borders of an ever-expanding metropolis.
At one corner was a market that looked like one similar to one in Fearless Winds. A corner where everybody went for commercial purposes. In the case of this other one, there were giant patches of paint covering other giant patches of paint. A fresh-looking coat appeared to cover some vandalism.
A flicker of movement, around the corner of the L-shaped corner market building. Stylus slowly moved to investigate. Across the street, lit only by a few street lights. The robot saw something. His visual sensors didn't lie, and his motion tracker never lagged. There was something moving back there.
Stylus approached the corner while silently assembling his sidearm. Once he had it loaded, he rounded the corner.
An Albatross... armoured... It had no eyes. In its place, several beady lenses that changed from a dim green to a bright yellow. They appeared to be the albatross' sensors. Seemed that the sensors weren't working at optimal performance. The albatross seemed to have tripped while trying to hide.
"Stylus?" Stylus asked, putting his side-arm into the custom holster on his backpack.
"You too?" The albatross asked.
"Unit 25," Stylus replied.
"Unit 212," The albatross said as well.
Stylus rose an eyebrow. His generation of Stylus long-range troopers were comprised of ninety-three.
"Generation 2 here, how about you?" Stylus asked.
"Generation 8," the albatross replied, giving an odd look- at least, Stylus assumed that when the multiple lenses started refracting purple and green light.
Damn, was Stylus really gone that long? That Robotnik had made six more generations of STYLUS trooper after him? Then again, a lot could happen in seventy-three years.
"Well, it's good to have a true-blue ally these days," Stylus said as he offered a hand. The albatross held a mechanized wing out and gripped the robot bat's hand.
"Are there others?" The albatross asked as Stylus pulled it up. Given a better glance, Stylus noticed the albatross had a busted leg. That would explain the trip.
Stylus shook his head. "I did find two others in a sewer. They ran out of power, I guess. Although the better question is how you managed to avoid detection from these... organics."
"Move at night, hide by day," the albatross replied. "Basic stuff. These organics aren't really that observant."
The albatross sat down on an exposed root of a nearby oak tree. Stylus leaned against the wall of the L-shaped building.
"No, they aren't," Stylus laughed, then paused. "Any signs of Robotnik?"
"No..." the albatross replied as he shook his head. "Although there was this Doctor Eggman organic, constantly trying to attack the city with robots. Always foiled by this Blue Hedgehog and other animal friends of his."
"I managed to make contact with that one," Stylus said, "It's not our Doc."
"Damn..."
Stylus agreed. It was pretty depressing for Robotropolis and its might get replaced by this disorganized city under constant attack by a moron who can't even beat one little organic.
"By the way, you know anyone who could get into our class of memory core?" The albatross asked.
Stylus flinched, or rather, replicated the action. "Is your memory getting corrupted as well?"
"No, I've just been holding onto the core of my wingman," the albatross replied, producing a memory core in a safety cage from its chest storage.
Stylus cocked his head to the side, visually asking what the whole wingman bit was about.
"He was my wingman for assignments. His codename was Detour."
"Codenames? I only adopted the name Stylus. Is that a Generation 8 thing?"
"Yeah, Robotnik started setting up two-unit STYLUS teams at Generation 4, after finding that most troops that are sent never return. He managed to capture many freedom fighters over the years. My codename's Trig, by the way."
Stylus and Trig shook hands. At last, a remnant of a long-gone time that was still alive.
"Anyway, Detour's power core got damaged beyond repair. I finished the assignment with his memory core safely stored, then I returned here about two years ago."
"Was this city here when you got here?" Stylus asked.
"Affirmative," Trig nodded.
"Well, I found two other troopers in a hidden cavern underneath the city. I got their memory cores as well, but... well, no way past the firewall, eh?"
Trig nodded again.
"So you know anyone who could do it aside from the Doc?" Stylus asked.
Trig shook his head.
"The blue hedgehog had a friend who seemed know what he was doing- though he failed to break the firewall. Still, he would figure it out eventually, or he would know someone who could do it."
"You know the hedgehog?"
"Yeah," Stylus replied, "Why?"
"The hedgehog was Doctor Robotnik's arch-nemesis."
Stylus cocked a brow. That didn't make sense. Even considering Sonic's age, Robotnik would've been in his hundreds or something. "That doesn't make sense."
Trig shrugged. "I only knew about the Sonic guy from metaphorical mess hall conversations with other troopers and SWAT Bots. Seemed he was a prominent freedom fighter with his super speed and power rings and all that super-power stuff."
Stylus flattened his mouth. He didn't know what to say. Trig continued, "Still, we're not supposed to target the immediate freedom fighters. We're long-range troopers. Orders are orders and all that."
Stylus nodded. "Still, he's a valuable ally. I keep relics of the past at his place. It's the safest place from the Government, anyway."
"Government?" Trig asked. "Why are the Feds after you?
"I'll tell you on the way." Stylus replied, assuming "Feds" was simply a slang term for the Government officials he had to deal with. Stylus gripped Trig's arms and hoisted the fellow trooper over his shoulder. "Let's just get back."