Metal: Hmm…what harms you?
?: Why ask for my flaws?
Metal: Name, before I count to ten! *Energy surge*
?: Nghh… Online, I was your author, PenFullofChaaaaaaos!
Silver: *Muffled* Ooh man, no more sleazy gas station snacks for me.
Metal: *Blinks* Didn't you shut down?
PoC?: I did.
Metal: Then you're NOT Pen! *Aims a shot*
Silver: Hiya, Met! Check out the re-gugh! Gut…my…why? Gutsy…jerk…y…*collapses*
PoC?: Hmm…can you not see through me?
Metal: I can.
PoC?: Then why did you knock him senseless?
Metal: W-Well because the smallest bugs can affect me. A slight dysfunction of the arm can jar my aim. Besides, you might be an error in coding, a block of adware…a fragment of un-decrypted data! There's too much pending about a Pen like you, if that's who you are!
Silver: OOOOOHHHJEEEERRRRKY…is making me constipated! *Flees to the restroom* Ooohh, sweet sunny strips of dried dead meat, why do you torment me?
PoC?: Grrross, but…rrrrrrrRRRRROBOT for our copyright crime, is there a disclaimer or not?
Metal: Heh, you were sued, I trust? *Reads script* So…Prison…of…Answers? Hmph, to cell oneself short never holds much in the way of a 'solution' per se; however, this PrisonofAnswers712 claims, "from beyond the chains of his shame" – corny & cliché – that he owns none of the Sonic the Hedgehog characters originating from the Sega-made game of the same name.
Silver: Uuugh…hey, who're ya talking to, Met? Oh, uh yeah, sorry about the smell.
Metal: Pen.
PoA: What? *Sniffs* Urk! Uuuuurrrrrrgrrrraaaahhwooooe! WOE IS MEEEEE!
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Potential
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5.36080007…4.24060005…3.12040003…2.00020001…0.87999999…
Cool down cycle initiated
-Status Report-
Hostile target count prior to engagement: 45
Estimated duration of combat module activation: 14:37
Hostile target count post engagement: 00
Ratio of targets eliminated: 93.3%
Ratio of targets routed: 6.7%
Total threat suppression: 100%
"Damage…damage report." The order came out as broken, synthetic static, due to a few stray holes lining his vocal matrix. Mechanical armor plating conditioned primarily for maneuverability, left the shape-shifter's body relatively vulnerable to the team's archaic, however potent, 7.62×39mm rounds. There was some monotone lament on the victor's part regarding his present body's fragility, yet for the given circumstances, he had accessed the overall outcome as a success.
Majority of critical breaches located in the hindquarters region
Running query of subject history regarding unusual injuries - Loading…
"Cancel, bypass background report." He sharply commanded his incompetent repair network. Much like the rest of his understandably ignorant kin, the shifter was unable to pin the source of his annoyance on 'humiliation'.
Regardless, what had happened was unavoidable: The bonds restricting his shape-shifting abilities had to be severed by any means necessary. In this case, 'any means necessary' meant allowing his opponents to take several open shots at his rear side, where his bound wrists were just so conveniently located. On the whole, this setback had little effect on one without true emotions, and expectedly far less impact on his stellar battle performance.
In spite of this, the disguised robot had to confess that these issue-wrapped beings never did have much of an advantage over machines in combat. Indeed, given the odds stacked against them, the mimic had to acknowledge his opponents, with great regard for their ability to adapt to his erratic tactics.
"Their performance was highly impressive." He commented, as he paused to let his body make essential repairs "My speed could eclipse their own optical tracking capabilities with ease, yet…" Pausing briefly, the shifter cautiously ascertained his distance from the base.
Having put enough space between himself and his targets for the moment, the shifter's binary code was presently having a conundrum regarding his slain enemies. Though some crucial data remained absent from his files, an overview analysis depicted similarity between himself and the soldiers he had slaughtered.
Like his previous self, they were just pawns; good soldiers doing what they had been programmed to do, following what they believed was correct. Without question, they reported to a master, perhaps even a creator of their own, in hopes of fulfilling their primary directives. Still, whoever ordered them to the battlefield today, whoever commanded to march out and die by the form-blender's hands, was much like Robotnik; the greedy and gluttonous Doctor Eggman.
Realizing his processors might have been comparing two unlike subjects, the shifter had to admit that humans may be unique; perhaps they were made for a purpose higher than his mechanical mind could ever understand; however, was it logical for a higher ranking human to possess the right to sacrifice those under him or her? Eggman certainly treats his soldiers as such, so was this a system all humans operated by, or is the situation somehow unique in the case of his former master?
Then again, having carefully studied his foes, the shifter knew there was a difference, a substantial difference indeed.
Save for a few minor exceptions, these foes of his fought with something he had never seen before: Ignoring the clear discrepancy between his specifications and their own, the blender noted a sort of glow within his opponents. It could, by in world definition, be compared to fire; a self-supplying reactor of uncontained energy. It was unmistakably a special power, a power he could not yet replicate with his current body or level of performance.
With his frame now up and operating at a safe level of stability, the shifter decided to put greater distance between himself and his pursuers. Setting a casual but steady pace of thruster speed, the faceless imitator's mind was still heavy in thought.
"That…light of theirs." He pondered aloud "How can I make it my own?"
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*Tails' POV*
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"Note to self." The fox groaned uncomfortably "Next time, keep a tool belt handy in case of future ventures down clustered ventilation ducts."
At this point, Tails knew anything from a screwdriver, a detached hacksaw blade or even a quarter, would graciously suffice; as all that stood between him and a ticket to an in-person, spy flick cameo was four tiny threaded nuisances. Coupling his frustration with these absurdly cramped shafts, and Tails found himself wishing for a thunderstorm over this claustrophobic debacle.
"Good thing I apply the 'recent' rule when it comes to bathing. Too bad all those suds and this dust will ruin my slick 'mechanic's sheen'." He grumbled non-verbally while searching for a solution to his tight situation.
Twisting his small frame lightly across rows of filth-caked plates of padding made it a chore to recall where exactly his estimated position was…by way of rational negation, of course. Aside from ascertaining his location, pressing matters still included securing any viable escape routes, and preferably liberating the hostage, possibly hostages, in the process. The only fine how-do-you-do, involved making a one out of the two, then finding a way to follow through.
"Heh-heh, even these ingenious thoughts of mine have hints of internal rhyme!" The cheeky fox sarcastically chuckled to himself, while not fully paying attention to his surroundings. In his momentary drift of common sense, the young fox failed to notice the hinges of an unbolted vent cover beneath him.
"Maybe being a tough, cool, confident hero isn't so hard to manage." This falsely placed moxie of his continued over a minor creaking "Okay maybe I'm only pretty smart in the big scheme of things, but plans of mine aren't exactly prone to fai-AIEEE! EERK! T-T-TAILS! PINCHED!"
Fur standing on end with 'wags' over ears, the evidently "ingenious" fox was now caught mid-decent by the sensitive edges of his namesake appendages. Apparently, Eggman's base designer had allowed for sizable cover swing space gaps; impish little snares, suited for snagging the swishy tenders of would-be vent prowlers.
"Can't…move!" Yelped the squirming fox, as he cursed his personal twin propellers. By some good grace he had not fallen in with scores of murderous, animal-powered drones. Unless of course…some gory and gruesome evil lay in the ominous capsule in front of him, all should be smooth sailing from where he stood, or hanged as the case may be.
"Famous last words, but hey, things could be worse, right?" As if by some cruel plot device, the lone chamber of unspoken danger bubbled and belched at his careless, self-applied jinx.
"Ah, why do I get the feeling this won't be as bad as I'm expecting?" Tails instantly had to reevaluate his poor judgment, as the tank gurgled even louder. Behind the pockets of escaping air, the vulpine noticed a very wild, animalistic shape materializing within the mystery fluids, prompting him to shout "Th-that's…horrible! How long has Eggman been experimenting with live specimens, oh? Wha-yipe!"
Rather suddenly, the discourteous ventilation grate chose to drop the studious vulpine on his nose mid-sentence. Superficial scuffs to his dog-like sniffer would have to be answered for later, as now Tails stood face-to-face with the enigmatic figure cased in glass. A fairly specific interface lay to the side of the contained specimen, drawing the fox's unhealthy curiosity.
"I wonder… This couldn't be the captive I saw earlier, could it?" He muttered while debating on whether or not to touch any delicate equipment. Not that he cared for Eggman's property in the least, but any rash moves might well jeopardize the subject's safety, as well as his own.
Taking his good time solving this mildly complicated situation, Tails was unprepared for the 'catatonic' creature's sudden lunge at the glass, making the fox jump back in suprise "Eep! W-W-What the-huh? Wait, NO! Switch it off! How do I switch it off?" Unfortunately, this final act of thoughtlessness had caused Tails to accidently activate the formerly latent containment cell.
Panicked and half-considering a hasty retreat, Tails frantically focused on fixing his nervous misstep as he muttered fearfully "Now just c-calm down! What did I press? Let's see um…ah! This! Uh…well the lights are off now, but…oh crap, nope! It's draining! Um, um, um…shoot, what do I do now? Maybe this! Erm…no! Darn it, now the lights are back on! Come on Tails, think, think!"
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*Metal's POV*
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Blasting off empty threats of termination at E-99 strategically had accomplished him little, or rather had only affected his position adversely, if at all. So many incidents involving misunderstandings and miscalculations had always been a commonality for the murderous clone, but this latest incident might have been the worst yet.
A simple, yet critical, alteration between zero and one was a fine line that he was lethally close to crossing this time; for not only had he allegedly 'failed' his previous mission, a fact that he would contest, but he feared his amnesiac recklessness had unintentionally caused harm to Silvia as well. At a minimum, his actions, consciously or unconsciously, had ultimately resulted in his capture and separation from her.
Leaving all that in mind, he wondered why she had been taken away so forcefully. Metal reasoned that her combat potential offered the greatest reason for the Sentinels' actions, but he refused to justify their cruelty towards her.
Practically speaking, there was in fact no purpose in questioning the exacting methods of one of Eggman's numbers. 99 and the Sentinels had obviously been ordered to restrain Metal and contain his silver companion, both tasks of which were performed flawlessly. Counter wise, only his questioning of their efficient means of goal achievement was truly out of place. Their programming was such that Eggman's orders are supreme; his words are the law above all law. Metal Sonic, an early experimental model of purely robotic mobians, was one of the very few who did not possess this built-in failsafe, yet he had no excuse for not obeying his master. Eggman was his creator, however bumbling and greedy he may be.
These ideas, however valid they may have been, still did not register with Metal, who had become compromised with his highly unstable disposition. Not a single file in his cluttered processor could be accessed without being hijacked first by data and images of the hybrid. Regardless of how many times he attempted to reboot, defragment or drastically format even the smallest quadrant, he still found himself flooded by information regarding her. Like a persistent virus, she had infiltrated and infected his entire CPU; to the extent that no safe mode or factory-level system restore could resist or erase.
All of this took place inaudibly beneath his perpetually crimson stare, currently which had locked coldly onto 99's grime-coated frame. The distracted spark in the general's cheap light bulbs for eyes, served to compromise a few more of Metal's limited caches for patience. Had the general truly expected Metal to comply with another absurd set of orders, likely designed for his demise, without first answering his question? What sort of, by archaic expression, short-circuited, loose-screw did he consider him to be? 99 even claimed to not know who Silvia was, a suspicious act of ignorance absurd enough to make Metal think…
"Hold on, her name?" Metal immediately realized his own mindless mistake. No one, except 85, one or two of those 'special' robots from the library, possibly the doll and Silvia herself knew of the unauthorized I.D. he had given to her. He had inadvertently confessed to further violating protocol by issuing an unofficial designation. These secondary repercussions were not his concern; however, it certainly would explain 99's confusion, while confirm that the Sonic clone was indeed suffering from a loss of clear sight.
To make matters more distressing, 99 had been staring at him with backlit hints of intensity. A nonverbal interrogation of this kind proved effective in further disrupting the doppelganger's ease. Others had tormented him in this way before, but with a variety of effects: E-85's was inquisitive and infuriating, and the Doll's was full of childish curiosity while Silvia's was plain…petrifying. Adding to that list, Metal could only assess 99's wide-eyed look as disturbing, disrespectful and downright creepy.
Unable to bear the general's 'inspection' any longer, Metal rudely said "Should you have a screw to tighten with me, general, I suggest that you unbind me first." He had intended his taunt to sound threatening, but the mobian copy edged backwards nervously as he spoke.
Luckily, 99 took the delayed hint and broke off the optic duel, simultaneously cutting off his radio conversation to give Metal his full attention. Eventually, the pair became embroiled in a new conflict of calculatedly studious stares, this time on more equal terms: 99 seemed to be data matching and scanning every part of Metal's facial features, while the Sonic clone sat scathingly admonishing the E-general's own.
When the war of wary glares had ended, 99 snapped out of his silence and said "Impossible, the data reads an identical match. The probability is low, and the information is inconclusive. Two exact values existing in one space cannot be one, unless the two are combined or are else negated by…" Metal paid little heed to the rambling military mind, until the same lumbering lackwit grabbed the copy and started to shout "METAL EXPLAIN, DATA INCONCLUSIVE! THIS MUST BE AN ERROR! HOW CAN I BE IN ERROR? I AM ERROR! ERRONEOUS-ENORMOUS-EGREGIOUS!"
"Shut…UP!" Metal furiously demanded before delivering 99 a sense-inducing head butt. His sudden blow drove the lummox back with a stumble, and it allowed Metal enough time to say "General, you need to relax; compile your files, then explain the situation to me."
Jolted back to a state of marginal lucidity, 99 briefly seemed to forget that he was speaking to a captive and criminal, chiefly one of lower rank, as he complied with Metal's command "Recent messages from Sky-Port inform me that you, Metal Sonic, have already been dispatched on your designated mission. Master Eggman's databank contains every on and off base unit's operation history and date of manufacture, with facial recognition systems for error proof data acquisition. In this way, there can never be two of the exact same robot at any given interval, however…" At this point, 99 stopped to display a profile image of Metal Sonic, registered as captured in two entirely unlike locations within a startlingly similar timeframe.
Metal nodded at 99's understandable confusion, but casually responded with derisive remarks "General, try not to be filter-minded as you are filthy. No system created by human or robotic hands is perfect by any means." The steel hedgehog found himself briefly caught on those words, before proceeding "Assuming this data isn't just a massive processing oversight, it's possible someone or something managed to superficially duplicate my statistics. How or why, I don't know, but it seems like Eggman's 'error-proof' system has been compromised."
"Compromised? The Master's system has…ahem! Halt! Now listen up!" 99 retorted, rather abruptly donning his contrived military-accent "No dishonorably discharged sack of sea-foam sludge gets by with badmouthing me or our Master's flawless base management!" Though seemingly puffed up on his martial pride, the large general curiously bent down slightly and added quietly "Even if you were, say, hypothetically correct, how would this breach be enacted, and for what purpose?"
Shaking his head, Metal crudely replied "I thought just told you, I have no idea! It isn't doing me any favors as I'm still locked up here, with no way of knowing what happened to Silv-Sil-th-the M-class Prototype." His reckless temper had once again gotten the better of him, causing the clone to turn his face downwards in shame at his slip up.
E-99 at last had his estimations confirmed regarding the identity of this 'Silvia' Metal spoke of, thereby causing a strange reaction within the mighty general: Sinking down on one knee, 99's glowing eyes 'narrowed' as he made an offer "Alright, ex-commander, let me make you a…deal of sorts: You agree to assist with an ongoing investigation of mine, and I will personally make a petition for your early parole, as well as allow for you to visit this 'Silvia'."
Against his normally distrusting demeanor when dealing with legalistic E-goons, Metal instantly raised his crestfallen head upwards; letting out harsh, but rather vulnerable whisper, he asked "You…can make that happen?"
E-99 gestured favorably, as the hidden gleam in his mechanical eyes grew brighter.
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*Tails Doll POV*
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Dangling his feet off the rough chair easily three-times his own size, the doll rubbed his plush hands nervously together. Little pieces of recent events came zapping back into his humble memory space, leaving the child more resigned to silence than the moment before. Not too long ago, his friends had all been together: The nice Miss 85, the cool Mr. Metal and Mama were finally with him at the same time. Then that huge, mean guy with scary armor came in and took Metal and his Mama away.
Wondering why everything had turned out so sad, but unable to understand sadness, meant the doll was left feeling like a big hole had been cut out of his center. These feelings of his started out small, but soon magnified to the point of being unbearable. Not sure of how to fix himself, the doll quickly slipped off the chair and pattered up to the side of the busy E-medic.
"Miss 85…it hurts. Something right here hurts." The fox puppet pointed to his chest, whimpering unintentionally. Due to his infantile amount of processing power, he had no other way of expressing the damage he felt inside. Just seeing flashing pictures of Metal being held down and Silvia crying out over and over was too much for him.
Thankfully, the kindly 85 found enough time to pay attention to the little one "You miss Metal and your Mama don't you?" The doll nodded feebly, inciting the big robot's protective instinct to pick the doll up. Holding the pitiful creation closely, the old caregiver offered an explanation "I gave you a version of my own special gift, given to me by my former master. It allows any robot to think and feel things like a normal mobian would. What you are feeling right now is both loneliness and compassion. You're worried about the people you care for most."
Nodding softly, upset doll asked "Y-Yeah I just miss them, but why does it have to feel so bad?" Rubbing his glassy eyes roughly, he buried his stitched muzzle into 85's shoulder.
Patting the puppet gently, 85 then said, half to herself and half to the child "Free will, no matter how small or artificial, is sometimes painful, but it's a gift unlike any other." She then began recalling images from her own distant past, as she continued to speak her thoughts aloud "Someone I knew once said that machines should be loyal to their master because they choose to be, and not due to some predetermined programming. They believed only machines that were free to think, and act, for themselves had the greatest potential of all."
Rocking back in her seat, 85 mused on her secluded memories of Metal Sonic's conception and evolution, with bittersweet predictions for his future "Eggman did not truly understand his accomplishment when he created Metal Sonic. Disposing of Mecha had been his first mistake, followed by 102 and further, subsequent failures have only led to this: The revival of his greatest creation, which now too is in danger of being pushed down the same path as his predecessors."
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End of Chapter Thirty
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Yes this took me ages, and the result is probably not stellar, I'm sure. Needless to say, I hope anyone reading finds something enjoyable about this somewhat confusing chapter. I'm not certain when the next update will be, but I hope and pray it arrives sooner than this one did.
Until next time.
