The sun inched its way past the horizon, marking the first presence of light that wasn't the dark blue sky or the street lamps. Stylus was a block away from the Thorndyke residence, with Trig over his shoulder.
Stylus told Trig about his arrival, the meeting with Sonic and his comrades, and the sewer. He also mentioned the whole mess about the government trying to get their hands on the now-unique metal.
"According to what you just said, we're in a sort of alternate dimension?" Trig asked.
"Sonic and his friends said they were warped here by some strange magic crap, anyway."
At the gate, Stylus tried to figure out a way to climb up with Trig in tow. After a bit of thinking, Stylus just jumped and managed to grip the top of the gate with one hand. From this higher position, Trig took hold of the gate and lifted himself over. Before Stylus could follow, Trig lost grip and crashed onto the asphalt.
Trig cursed. Stylus swung over and picked up Trig again.
"I've got enough spare parts to fix that leg, by the way," Stylus said as he carried the fellow robot to the garage. After getting required materials, Stylus spent the next few hours getting Trig back in one piece.
Tails was the first one down, rubbing his eyes with those relatively loose white gloves of his, wearing a silly-looking night cap. The two-tailed fox glanced at Stylus working on Trig's leg. After taking several steps to the side door, the fox did a double-take.
"What is this?" Tails asked, suddenly fully awake.
"Name's Trig," said the albatross. Stylus didn't respond, since he was busy tightening a few bolts.
"Another robot? Did you build this, Stylus?"
"No, he found me," Trig replied.
"Oh yeah, it's good that you're up, Tails," Stylus interrupted as he snapped a new shin plate into place.
Tails cocked his square-shaped head in confusion. Stylus continued, "Did you know how to crack the firewall on my memory core the first time around?"
Tails shook his head. "I've never seen anything like it. It's like technology that hasn't been invented yet."
Stylus huffed. "Funny, because several decades ago, this city was a central hub of this kind of tech." He took a cloth and wiped off the excess lubricant before giving a tap on the shin for good measure. "Good as new, Trig."
Trig nodded his thanks. "It does support how this is some sort of Alter-Mobius," Trig added as he tested his finished leg.
"Several decades? Just how old are you?" Tails asked.
Stylus had to try to remember. Twenty-one when he was transformed, twenty-four when he arrived... another seventy-three years.
"Seventy-Six years active," Stylus had to resort to logical reasoning, since the exact information was corrupted. "But that's not important. Could you find out how to crack the firewall on one of the extra memory cores? If not, do you know someone who probably could?"
Tails slowly shook his head, then slowly nodded. "I mean, I could try to figure it out. I just need a lot of time, that's all."
Stylus looked at Trig, who produced Detour's core.
"Three cores total, not counting mine and Trig's. You sure you won't damage anything?"
"Puh-lease!" Tails boasted with kid-like enthusiasm. "I built the Tornado practically by myself. I bet I could find out how to crack a memory core."
Stylus flattened his mouth, not exactly amused. Trig handed the core to Stylus prior to hopping off the table. Stylus gave the core to Tails, saying "I'll go get the other two," before leaving the garage.
Trig went outside to test out his new leg, run diagnostics, ultimately making sure all systems read green. Besides, Stylus technically out-ranked the fellow robot experience-wise.
Stylus entered the mansion, thinking about Patriarch Lorem and what he had said over the years the robot knew him. The old sparrow's thoughts on Stylus' desires for immortality. Lots of contradictory thoughts flooded his processors. It wasn't pleasant to clear out everything.
"See you later, Stylus,"
The robot turned. No one was there. Minor glitch in audio memory, probably... There's a lot of audio memory there... Maybe too much.
How the hell was he holding all of this memory, anyway? Shouldn't he have limited storage space? How could he still remember things from over seven decades ago? Maybe some memory overwrote others, but that wouldn't explain the slow corruption of every bit of memory.
With a flinch, Stylus suddenly remembered that thermal enhancement allowed him to see Leo in the tower when he first arrived. It was that of a tiger.
He had a promise. Stylus knew it now. He was dying, just like Detour, just like the two troopers he found under the sewers. The robot muttered vulgarities to himself as he climbed the main lobby stairs on the way to collect the two memory cores.
Stylus needed to find out now. Was Leo still alive? Chances of roboticization are high, considering the worst assumptions of his family problems.
"Patrick, I'm so proud of you!"
Stylus vaulted over the fence and onto the track. Patrick ran from the shoal to Stylus' arms. They hugged like an ecstatic boy and his father. Stella was whooping, as were many other members of the audience.
Stylus entered a hidden pantry. The robot pushed aside some cans and checked every box he had. He soon found both cores and replaced the boxes and cans.
He left the mansion.
Patrick stood proud atop the custom pedestal. An aquamarine badge was stuck on the center of his streamlined chest.
Stylus entered the garage again. "I got them," he said as he walked up the stairs.
A Gunshot rang out. Stylus' hand was raised in the air when it got hit by a low-calibre round. The shot was meant for Patrick. All of the chao got down behind their pedestals as Stylus turned.
A Gunshot rang out. Stylus nearly dropped the memory cores. He placed them on his old prison table before looking out a side window.
Trig held a smoking sidearm, two suited Government Agents stared at each other- wait... not at each other. A third agent lay in the backyard lawn. Even from a distance, red glinted from the grass blades. It didn't take a genius to figure out what just happened.
Stylus cursed aloud as he pulled the round from the damaged hand.
Stylus cursed aloud, unable to do anything fast enough as the Agents attempted to reach for their weapons. Trig gunned the duo down as well.
"Patrick!" Stella shouted from the robot's left, "Are you all right?"
"No! Goddamnit!" Stylus called across the Thorndyke yard.
"See you later, Stylus."