The concept of a reunion between long-lost siblings is typically portrayed as an emotionally charged moment, filled with overwhelming joy, tearful embraces, and a bittersweet blend of longing and relief. It is often seen as a heartwarming occasion, a chance to mend the bonds that were torn apart by cruel fate.
But for Scourge, the reunion with his sister was anything but idyllic.
Aside from Tara's aggressive and somewhat feral behavior, her unexpected reappearance in his life has thrown a wrench into his plans of rising back to the power that was stolen from him.
Instead of making strides towards regaining his lost supremacy, he found himself routinely reaching out for aspirin, trying to soothe the throbbing headache brought on by yet another of Tara's explosive fits of rage. The trigger for this latest outburst had been Fiona's seemingly innocent attempt to persuade Tara to exchange her foul-smelling, worn-out clothing for something fresh and clean.
"I DON'T WANT THEM CLOTHES BITCHSHIT!!!!" Tara's voice echoed off the walls, her arms folded across her chest in a stubborn show of defiance.
Fiona, visibly exasperated, retorted, "This place is already rank as it is, it hardly needs your stinky clothes adding to the miasma. C'mon, there's absolutely nothing wrong with the ones I'm offering."
"I WANT MY CLOTHES!!! SCREW THOSE ONES!!!" Tara's retort was filled with such vehemence that she punctuated her words by stomping her foot hard on the ground, further escalating the tension in the room.
"Two days of enduring this," Lightning growled under his breath, snatching the bottle of aspirin from Scourge's hand and hastily swallowing a much-needed dose. With a sigh of exasperation, he couldn't help but blurt out, "Good god, she makes Flying look like a monk." His offhand remark struck a nerve with Flying, who took offense to the comparison.
"Seriously, we can't go on with the constant tantrums. We got work to do." Simon chimed in, his voice a mix of frustration and concern.
Scourge, deep in thought, furrowed his brows as he pondered potential solutions to their predicament. Suddenly, his face brightened with a spark of inspiration.
Swiftly turning his head towards Predator, he instructed, "Go check the surrounding buildings to see if any of them have a hose we can use."
"Consider it done, boss," Predator responded with a nod, swiftly making his way outside to take flight in search of the much-needed hose.
Turning his attention to Flying, Scourge implored, "Flying, I need you to distract that little terror for a while. Fiona needs a break from the havoc."
A mischievous grin spread across Flying's face as he eagerly replied, "You can count on me-he-hee!" With that, he hopped behind Tara, waiting for the opportune moment. And just as Tara was in the midst of her tantrum, unleashing her fury upon the world, Flying let out a sudden, piercing yell that startled her, causing the young girl to lose her balance and tumble over in a mixture of surprise and confusion.
"HEY!" Tara's initial shock quickly transformed into a blazing inferno of rage as she hollered back, her voice laced with fury and defiance. Her eyes narrowed, burning with intensity.
But Flying Frog was not one to be intimidated. With a burst of audacity, he matched her volume and ferocity, his own voice booming with equal force. Leaning in just inches away from her face, he unleashed a "HEY!" that reverberated through the room, his expression unyielding and his gaze unwavering.
Enveloped in a cloud of seething anger, the young girl's fury reached its peak. She released a prolonged, ear-piercing scream, its shrillness filling the air. Her head trembled with the intensity of her rage, and her widened eyes seemed to ignite with an inferno of wrath.
Unfazed by her outburst, Flying maintained his unyielding stance. His grin stretched from ear to ear, displaying an unsettling confidence. With relentless eye contact, he unleashed his own piercing scream, a sound so piercing and powerful that it prompted everyone present to instinctively cover their ears in a desperate attempt to shield themselves from the violent intensity of the noise.
Consumed by anger and frustration, Tara launched herself at Flying, her teeth bared and her nails poised to scratch.
However, luck was on his side as he narrowly evaded her attack, agilely hopping away with a gleeful, maniacal laughter reverberating through the room.
"Don't you dare!" Flying wagged his finger in a mock scolding manner, quickly hopping onto a nearby counter, out of her reach. Undeterred by her aggression, he taunted her once more, "I bite back-wack-snack!"
"I wouldn't do that, Flying." Fiona interjected, her voice tinged with weariness as she rubbed her temples, "she's probably toxic."
Embracing Fiona's warning, Tara adamantly declared, "Yeah, I'm toxic, bitch!" She stomped her feet defiantly, her gaze locked intensely on Flying Frog, readying herself for another attack.
Unfolding a mischievous plan, Flying Frog swiftly responded, his voice filled with playful enthusiasm. "Well, toxic little girl, how about we play a game of hide and seek? I'll hide, and you can count! Catch me if you can!" With that, he let out a boisterous holler and bounded out of the room, leaving Tara seething in anger, her desire for pursuit left unfulfilled.
"GET BACK HERE BITCHSHIT!!!" Tara shrieked furiously, her anger reaching new heights. She lunged forward, attempting to chase after Flying Frog, but her efforts were abruptly halted as a blur of green grabbed her ankle, suspending her in mid-air.
"Count. Those are the rules." Scourge chimed in with a smug grin, relishing in his sister's flailing rage as she struggled against her airborne restraint.
Infused with a surge of unrestrained fury, Tara emitted a primal, childlike roar of anger, punctuating her outburst by thrusting her hand forward and giving him the finger. The ring finger to be exact.
Scourge, upon witnessing this unconventional display of rebellion, was caught entirely off guard. The unexpected sight triggered his amusement, causing him to erupt into uncontrollable laughter. "Can't swear right or even give the finger? How the hell do we share the same DNA?" he exclaimed between fits of laughter, struggling to compose himself.
Ignoring Scourge's amusement, Tara's frustration intensified. She scowled and demanded, "Stop holding my foot!" Her attempts to wriggle free from her aerial confinement proved futile, as Scourge maintained his grip with unwavering determination.
"Count," Scourge insisted, his voice firm and resolute, his eyes narrowing with authority.
Reluctantly, Tara crossed her arms in a display of begrudging cooperation. With gritted teeth, she begrudgingly began to count, her voice infused with sullen determination. "One, two, three, four… Uhm…"
"Five," Simon interjected, rolling his eyes at the slight hiccup in Tara's counting.
"Five, six, seven, nine... eight... ten! Now let me go!" Tara demanded, her impatience palpable as she yearned to be released from her airborne captivity.
With a triumphant grin, Scourge acquiesced, dropping Tara to the ground, setting her free to embark on her quest to find Flying Frog.
"Good idea getting Flying to distract her," Fiona remarked with a sigh of relief, savoring the respite created by Tara's absence.
"Surprised my ears aren't bleeding," Lightning grumbled, rubbing his finger in his ear, the echoes of the incessant screaming still reverberating in his senses, leaving his hearing temporarily muffled and distorted.
Scourge sighed, his face etched with a mix of frustration and concern. "Look, guys, I know it's a setback, but we won't let it deter us. Once her infection is cleared up, we'll find an alternative place for her to stay," he explained, his voice laced with a touch of determination.
"She's not staying?" Simon inquired calmly, although somewhat surprised he'd give up his own sister.
"'Course not. We can't be taking care of a kid with everything going on right now." Scourge replied, his gaze drifting away momentarily, his fingers deftly adjusting the collar of his jacket. He reached into his pocket, retrieving a cigarette, and lit it with a flick of his lighter. The smoke curled upward, mirroring the uncertainty that hung in the air.
"Sure as hell not that one anyways." Lightning scoffed, casting a disdainful glance in the direction Tara was last seen, his arms firmly crossed over his chest, "but who would take her?" He absently tapped his finger against his arm, lost in thought as he pondered the daunting question.
Just as the conversation was about to proceed, the group was abruptly interrupted by a raucous yell echoing through the corridor. "YOU'LL NEVER TAKE ME ALIVE!" The voice, unmistakably belonging to Flying, reverberated through the rooms, capturing their attention and causing a momentary pause.
Within seconds, Flying burst back into the room, his movements frenetic and accompanied by the scrambling of tiny feet. Tara, fueled by determination and a relentless spirit, jumped onto and clung tenaciously to his back as he hopped and maneuvered, desperately attempting to dislodge her grip.
"Fo-- For fuck's sake," Scourge muttered under his breath, a mixture of annoyance and concern etched across his face. Hastily, he extinguished his cigarette, his focus shifting to assisting Flying in prying the growling child off his back. However, their efforts were significantly hindered by Flying's own erratic movements, as he continued to bounce up and down in an attempt to shake Tara loose.
"Hold still, you maniac!" Scourge growled in frustration, his voice tinged with exasperation as he wrestled with them both, attempting to pry Tara off despite the relentless motion.
The chaotic fiasco finally came to an end when Flying, propelled by a desperate surge of energy, leaped into the air with remarkable force. His powerful jump propelled him to such heights that his head made a forceful impact with the ceiling, resulting in a resounding thud that echoed throughout the room. Unable to maintain his balance, Flying came tumbling down to the ground, his descent accompanied by a deafening crash.
Fortunately, Tara had jumped down to safety just moments before Flying's body would have squashed her. As the dust settled, Flying, still feeling disoriented and dizzy from the fall, struggled to sit up. He wobbled unsteadily, attempting to regain his equilibrium, before turning his bleary gaze towards Tara. Speaking in an odd and delirious tone, his words were tinged with a mix of admiration and defeat. "You sure know how to play, kid," he muttered.
In a cruel twist of fate, as if the universe was playing a practical joke on him, debris from the damaged ceiling plummeted down, striking Flying's head and causing him to once again collapse flat on his back. A brief moment of stunned silence followed, only to be shattered by Fiona's stifled laughter. Her amusement quickly spread, and Scourge joined in, their laughter filling the room.
"He keeps-" Fiona managed to gasp between fits of laughter, struggling to catch her breath. "He did it again!"
"Damn it, Fiona!" Scourge exclaimed, his amusement reaching an uncontrollable peak as he struggled to maintain composure.
Perplexed, Fiona retorted, her voice tinged with amusement, "What did I do? He knocked himself out!"
Scourge pointed at her and managed to get his words out between fits of laughter, "You made me laugh!"
"But it was funny!" Fiona defended herself, struggling to contain her own laughter. " I mean, come on, he's practically a living cartoon!"
Their infectious laughter soon spread to Lightning, who couldn't help but join in the mirthful chaos. Even Simon, the typically stoic and somewhat gruff member of their team, couldn't fight off the urge to allow a few muffled chuckles to escape from his lips.
What astounded them even more, however, was the completely unforeseen response from the normally bad-tempered and irritable little girl they had the misfortune of being stuck with. Tara, to everyone's shock, also fell victim to the infectious laughter.
As soon as the others became distracted, their attention drawn to her uncharacteristically jovial demeanor, and their laughter eventually faded, Tara's own laughter quickly died down. She crossed her arms over her chest in a defiant posture and raised a single eyebrow in a mixture of confusion and curiosity, silently questioning why everyone had reacted so surprisingly to her joining in the laughter.
An awkward tension filled the room, the air becoming thick with silence. This silence was abruptly shattered when Predator re-entered the room, having successfully completed his task. His facial expression remained stoic, betraying no emotion as he surveyed the peculiar scene before him - the entire group standing around aimlessly, with the exception of the unconscious Flying, who lay sprawled out amongst the rubble on the floor.
Shattering the lingering silence, Predator voiced his inquiry in a calm and emotionless tone, hinting only at a mild curiosity, "Should I ask?"
Fiona waved off the question dismissively, her tone nonchalant. "Nah, he'll be alright. Hey, did you find somewhere nearby with a hose?"
"Yes, ma'am. There's one just down the block. I'II lead the way," Predator responded dutifully.
"Cool" Scourge nodded approvingly, diverting his attention to Tara. "Hey, Tara-"
"No! I wanna be named Toxic! Like she said!" Tara interrupted, demanding to be addressed by the insult Fiona had used earlier.
With an indifferent shrug, Scourge easily accepted the sudden name change.
"Alright, Toxic. This is your last chance to put on the clothes Fiona got for you." In response, Toxic emitted a low, menacing growl, baring her teeth in defiance. She extended her ring finger in Scourge's direction, her eyes boring into his with a cold, icy stare.
"Suit yourself," Scourge replied nonchalantly, his shoulders rising and falling in a dismissive shrug. He chose the safest and least repugnant method of grabbing Toxic by the ankle, preventing her from launching an attack on him. Ignoring her loud and indignant protests, he turned to Simon, seeking his help. "Hey, would you mind holding her up while we hose her down? You might get wet."
Simon wrinkled his nose in disgust, reminded of the lingering smell of the little girl's filthy clothes. "I don't mind, as long as it gets rid of the stench."
Scourge, satisfied with Simon's agreement, nodded in affirmation. "Great. Fiona, grab the clothes and some towels. Predator, lead the way."
"Have fun," Lightning sneered quietly at the departing group.
Toxic let out a furious roar, her voice echoing through the apathetic slums as she screamed, "DON'T YOU FUCKASSING DARE." before her protests escalated to an even higher decibel. Despite her fierce resistance, Scourge, Fiona, and Simon, led by Predator, remained undeterred, paying little heed to her outbursts as they steadfastly pressed forward with their plan.
Scourge, seizing the moment, offered Toxic a casual lesson in swearing. "Actually, it's 'don't you fucking dare.' 'Fuckass' isn't really a commonly used swear word, especially when you're trying to emphasize something."
Toxic's eyes clouded with confusion as she squinted, attempting to understand the unfamiliar terminology that Scourge was introducing. The complexity of his explanation was a little too much for her four-year-old brain to comprehend.
Scourge, sporting a patronizing grin, dismissed her confusion. "You'll figure it out eventually. The bad swearing is becoming more irritating than funny, so I'll make sure you learn the right way to do it."
"Right over here," Predator gestured, his gaze shifting towards a grime-filled alleyway. The group followed in his footsteps, stepping cautiously over scattered debris as they ventured down the grungy, narrow passage. Taking a sharp left, they arrived in the secluded back parking lot of a dilapidated store. Against the graffiti-smeared wall, a hose hung haphazardly, ready to be put to use.
"IMMA KILL YOU!" Toxic's voice once again erupted in anger, her frustration palpable as she fiercely struggled to break free from Scourge's grip on her ankle. With a sharp glare, she focused her attention on the hose. The prospect of being forcefully hosed down, an act she vehemently opposed, fueled her fury.
Scourge, unperturbed by Toxic's defiance, let out a dismissive scoff, shaking his head in mild amusement at her futile attempts to resist. Turning his attention to Simon, he calmly instructed him to, "Take the little gremlin."
Without a moment's hesitation, Simon complied, his large fingers enveloping Toxic's tiny hands as he lifted her up, suspending the raging child in the air. Meanwhile, Fiona swiftly moved into action, retrieving the nozzle and positioning herself beside in front of Simon and Toxic, ready to unleash a torrent of water.
Toxic's enraged demands and menacing threats were met with resolute determination from the group, their focus unwavering as they pressed on with their mission. Scourge, hunkering down beside the spigot, deftly adjusted the settings to achieve the highest possible water pressure. With a twist of the lever, a powerful surge of water erupted from the hose, spewing forth with forceful intensity from the nozzle.
Fiona, positioned strategically, took charge of directing the torrential spray. With meticulous precision, she aimed the gushing stream at Toxic's dirt-covered form, meticulously washing away the layers of grime that stubbornly clung to her body and clothes. As the water cascaded over Toxic, the accumulated filth began to dissolve, forming muddy droplets that dripped off her, leaving behind streaks of brown residue on the ground.
Scourge's face twisted in disgust as he muttered "gross," under his breath, his voice laced with a cringe-worthy tone. The sight of the runny grime on Toxic's body was enough to elicit a visceral reaction from him.
Fiona, sharing his sentiment, wrinkled her nose in distaste as she chimed in with a hint of disdain, "You should be thanking me. No wonder you got so sick, you're disgusting."
Toxic, now a screeching blur of blue fury, continued to unleash her verbal wrath upon them. Scourge growled low in his throat, finding it almost unfathomable that such an obnoxious and unruly child shared his own DNA.
After a thorough dousing, the water cascading off Toxic's body had transformed from murky brown to a clear stream, indicating that she was finally in a much more hygienic state.
"Alright, I think we've managed to clean her up as best as we can for now. Turn off the hose," Fiona declared, a sense of accomplishment evident in her voice.
With a decisive twist of the nozzle, Scourge shut off the flow of water. He then walked over to his fuming and swearing sister, his frustration with her escalating with each passing moment. Ever since they had stumbled across each other, Toxic had become an absolute nightmare to deal with. She exhibited violent behavior, displayed an incessantly bratty attitude, and emitted ear-piercingly loud screams that grated on his nerves. He couldn't stand her. Interrupting her tirade, he shouted directly in her face, his own anger boiling over.
"Shut the fuck up! God, aren't you tired of your own bullshit by now!? We've been nicer than you deserve—which you won't find anywhere in this place—and yet, you...you bite us," he gestured, counting her actions on his fingers, "you scratch us, you kick us, you scream so fucking loud it makes us want to shove knives in our ears, and you do all of this when we haven't done a damn thing to you! Just..." Scourge clenched his shaking fists, his body trembling with pent-up rage. He walked towards a nearby wall, his clenched fist slamming into it, causing several bricks to dislodge and fall to the ground. A mixture of anger and pain radiated from him as he growled, "FUCK!" through gritted teeth, blood seeping through his glove from the force of the impact.
His piercing gaze shifted towards the motionless group, their silence accentuating the intensity of the moment. "What?" he sneered in disdain. With a contemptuous curl of his lip, he swiftly reached into his jacket, extracting a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. The metallic clinks echoed as he forcefully inserted a cigarette between his lips and ignited it with a resounding flick. A brief pause ensued as his eyes locked onto Fiona's, their gazes intertwining momentarily. Breaking the silence, he issued a terse command, his voice laced with authority, "Give 'em the towels. I'll be back."
Weary and in need of respite, he sought solace on the edge of the sidewalk. Inhaling deeply, he drew in the burning nicotine, its bitter taste a mild distraction for his racing thoughts. His blue eyes remained steadfastly fixed on an unseen focal point, as if attempting to anchor his racing mind. Alas, his efforts to silence the relentless clamor of his thoughts proved futile, each inhale only serving to fan the flames of his internal turmoil.
He cursed their decision to stay at the orphanage, wishing they had chosen a different hideout. If they had opted for an alternative location, he would have never crossed paths with her. However, if they hadn't stumbled upon it, she would have succumbed to her infection. The perplexing part was, why did her survival matter? He had spent years coming to terms with the fact that he would never lay eyes on her again, so whether she lived or died shouldn't have made a difference. Yet, the mere contemplation of her demise triggered the same strange and nauseating sensation he experienced when they initially discovered the deserted orphanage where he left her as an infant. He berated himself for allowing these emotions to affect him, considering them trivial under normal circumstances. However, as his thoughts clashed and collided, they brewed a tumultuous storm within his mind, obscuring his senses and leaving him in a state of disarray.
That is, until a subtle movement from the edge of his peripheral vision caught his attention. It was Fiona settling down next to him on the cold concrete curb. Without uttering a word, she extended two fingers towards him, a silent request for a cigarette. Scourge acquiesced without hesitation, his eyes barely leaving the horizon as he skillfully placed a cigarette between her waiting fingers, igniting it with a flick of his lighter, all without looking at her.
As time passed, an awkward silence draped over them, their shared cloud of smoke swirling around them, intertwining like ghostly tendrils. Fiona, in an attempt to pierce the growing tension, spoke up, saying, "Got her to change. She hated those soggy clothes."
Scourge responded with nothing more than the barest of nods, his silence reestablishing the quiet that had briefly been disturbed.
"What are we doing, Fi?" Scourge finally broke the silence, his voice barely more than a hum. He extinguished his spent cigarette on the rough curb he was perched on, dropping the stub onto the pavement without a second thought.
"You tell me," Fiona countered, her voice smooth as she took a long, deliberate drag of her cigarette. "You should've seen yourself when we stumbled upon that place. And then when we found her alive, well…" She trailed off, her eyes carefully watching Scourge for any hint of a reaction.
"Well?" His face remained a stoic mask, the only sign of his inner turmoil being a slight twitch in his brow.
"You were worried about her, Scourge. And since you matter to me, I helped out…" The crimson-furred vixen's voice faded away, her words dissipating into the air as she continued to speak.
"I seriously doubt you turned into a saint in a split, just to make me feel a bit better," The emerald-green hedgehog shot back, a fresh cigarette already nestled between his lips as he sparked it to life.
"And what's that supposed to mean, exactly?" Fiona's brows furrowed, her body leaning in closer to Scourge as she sought an answer.
With a smug smirk, Scourge echoed a piece of wisdom she'd once harshly imparted to Tails, "You can't count on anybody."
Fiona scoffed, her crimson head shaking indignantly as she retorted, "That was a long time ago! And he was just some brat-"
"Same with her," Scourge interjected, not giving Fiona a chance to finish. "Doesn't matter who she's related to." He adjusted his sunglasses with a casual flick of his fingers, a plume of smoke billowing from his mouth.
"Alright, so what are you trying to suggest, Scourge?" Fiona demanded, her voice thick with indignation.
"Don't play dumb, Fiona. You've clearly got a soft spot for the kid. And I don't believe for a second it's just because you feel sorry for me." He sneered, a bitter edge in his voice. "Why else would you have spent the entire first night taking care of her?"
Fiona shook her head, her silence louder than any words. Scourge's accusation sent ripples of turmoil through her, rendering her mute as she dropped her cigarette, the ember dying under the sole of her boot.
She was reminded of her own childhood, a time when she was chewed up and spit out by a cruel twist of fate. She had spent grueling years under Robotnik's tyrannical rule, forced into hard labor, subjected to inhumane experimentation, and ultimately abandoned in a dank cell to waste away. In the throes of her adolescence, she had clawed her way to freedom, literally digging her way out of her prison cell.
Adding to her torment was the fact that Sonic, the supposed hero of not just the world, but the entire universe, had saved others from one of the prisons she was kept in while she was there. But he couldn't save her. The memory of being left to rot in that cell, the feeling of being forsaken, still made her blood boil. Regardless of the reasons, and despite her attempts to forgive, and even love him, the gnawing resentment lingered.
Toxic was not imprisoned like she was, but her fate seemed to be nothing more than an inevitable, bitter end. Fiona had learned to trust sparingly, but the desperate child within her couldn't be silenced when she saw an opportunity to offer Toxic at least a chance at making it in this unforgiving world.
After a long moment of tapping her foot against the ground in a rhythm of frustration, Fiona finally broke the bitter silence that had settled over them. She stood up, the tension in her body pouring out as she stretched her arms above her head. Then, turning her attention to Scourge, she asked, "You hungry?"
Scourge, taken aback by the sudden turn in their conversation, paused, his mind needing a moment to recalibrate. Then, with a sudden jolt of realization, he remembered that the only food he'd ingested that day was a measly bag of potato chips. His stomach, now keenly aware of its long period without proper nourishment, issued a low, plaintive rumble of hunger.
"I could eat," Scourge responded, attempting to maintain an air of indifference even as his stomach clenched with a gnawing sensation of hunger.
"I'll go tell the others to head back," Fiona stated, her voice reverberating slightly in the confines of the narrow, dingy alleyway. She moved away with a confident stride, heading towards the rest of their disparate group. "We could do with a little 'us' time."
As she disappeared into the alley, Scourge rose to his feet, discarding his finished cigarette onto the cold, grimy pavement. He stamped it out with his sneaker, killing the feeble ember. He muttered a curse under his breath as he readjusted his worn jacket, the leather hanging awkwardly on his underfed figure.
"We'll bring stuff for you guys, okay?" Fiona's voice floated back to him as she spoke to the remaining group. Scourge watched as she, along with Predator, Simon, and Toxic, emerged from the murky depths of the alley.
His eyes met Toxic's and they held each other's stare for a moment, exchanging glares as frigid and sharp as a glacier. But it was Scourge who broke the intense eye contact, shifting his attention back towards Fiona.
"What are we in the mood for?" Fiona queried, sauntering back to his side.
"Tired of ramen. Pizza sound good?" Scourge's ears perked up at the suggestion, and he casually draped an arm around Fiona's waist.
"Smart boy." Fiona complimented him, reciprocating his gesture by looping her arm around his shoulders, "lead the way, baby."
As they began their journey out of the squalor of the slums, Scourge relished the tranquil feeling that came with the company of a single person. Not any random person, but Fiona. Her presence was a source of solace for him, one that surpassed the fleeting relief granted by any chemical stimulant. In comparison to any substance, she was his most potent addiction.
Feeling Scourge's appraising gaze on her, Fiona quirked an eyebrow, a playful smile spreading across her lips, "what?"
"Nothin'. Just enjoying the view." Scourge responded, sealing his remark with a flirtatious wink.
A wave of warmth washed over Fiona as she felt the familiar rush of blood coloring her cheeks. She tilted her head towards him, her gaze filled with affection, "Well, I hope you're not referring to that big pile of trash bags," she teased, her eyes flicking towards the stench-ridden pile they were passing by.
Chuckling, Scourge responded in a faux seductive tone, "Oh I don't know, Fi. It's got a certain... hot and steamy appeal to it," he quipped, his smirk acknowledging the trash heap wilting under the intense heat of the sun.
"Gross!" Fiona retorted, her nose crinkled in distaste as she playfully jabbed his shoulder, her arm still linked with his.
As they crossed into the lively shopping district, their eyes darted to and fro, scanning the dazzling neon signs in their quest to locate a pizza place. Their search was soon rewarded, and they plunged into the moving mass of people that flowed in multiple directions, propelling themselves towards the entrance of a rather run-down pizza parlor. As they stepped inside, a tinny jingle echoed from the overhead speakers, announcing their arrival.
"Snag us a spot, babe," Scourge murmured, pressing a quick kiss to her cheek as he withdrew his arm from her waist.
"Make sure it's pepperoni," Fiona instructed, pointing a finger at him as she set off to find a table for two.
"Gotcha," Scourge confirmed, flashing her a thumbs-up as he took his place in the queue to order.
Beneath the monotonous hum and sporadic flicker of the overhead fluorescent lights, Scourge moved to the front of the line when his turn arrived. He met the gaze of the cashier, whose eyes held a dull, weary look, and ordered two slices of pepperoni pizza accompanied by sodas. After settling the bill, Scourge picked up a number and joined Fiona at the table she had selected, his confusion evident at the sight of her staring off into the distance, lost in thought.
"What's on your mind, babe?" Scourge inquired, pushing up his red sunglasses to better perceive her in the restaurant's dim lighting.
"Just thinkin'..." She replied in a thoughtful hum.
"About what?"
"Where the hell are we going to place that kid once she's healed? Nobody in their right mind would want her," she mused, her gaze distant as she rested her chin on her knuckle.
"You're right, but we can't keep her. We have our own lives to lead and we can't afford the delays this little psycho is causing," he asserted, his tone firm.
"Are there any other orphanages?" Fiona suggested, her eyebrow arched in query.
"I dunno, Fi. It's been years since I last looked. And even then, I could only find one we're staying in." he replied, sounding somewhat deflated as he adjusted his jacket on his shoulder.
"But there's gotta be some place where orphans go," Fiona mused aloud, her thumb nail caught between her teeth.
"In my experience, they either end up homeless or doing manual labor for some company," Scourge said, clearing his throat and scratching the back of his neck. He froze mid-movement as a sudden idea sparked in his mind.
"Damn…" Fiona muttered under her breath, her attention then drawn to Scourge's sudden shift in demeanor. "What's up?"
Scourge snapped his fingers and pointed at Fiona in a eureka moment, "We could possibly find an abandoned building for her. We'd have to teach her survival skills, but at least she'd be off our hands," he suggested, his voice brimming with newfound confidence.
"That could work… If nobody else is willing to take her in, I suppose it's better than forcing her into labor," Fiona considered, shrugging her shoulders in resignation.
Scourge nodded in agreement, just as their conversation was cut short by the shrill call of their order number. Upon collecting their food, Scourge evenly divided their meal, placing plates and drinks before each of them. Saliva pooled in his mouth as he opened wide to sink his teeth into the hot, oily slice of pepperoni pizza.
"Ew!" Fiona burst into laughter as she spotted a trail of drool mixed with pizza grease dribbling onto the table while she picked up her own slice.
"Fuck," Scourge mumbled under his breath, hastily wiping up the mess with a napkin, his ears flaring red with embarrassment.
"Good thing you're hot," Fiona teased, winking at him as she took a bite of her own pizza. "Pizza was a good choice."
"I'll grab a box for the guys on our way out so it's still warm," Scourge proposed after swallowing his mouthful of pizza.
"Smart idea," Fiona agreed, her smile warm as she sipped her soda, gazing fondly at her boyfriend.
"No need to rush, though," Scourge added, reaching across the table to hold Fiona's hand, his thumb softly stroking her knuckles, "When was the last time we actually went on a date?"
Fiona, intertwining her fingers with Scourge's, hummed in thought before answering, "Before you got arrested. So, about three months ago, more or less?"
"Oh right," Scourge nodded, "we could do with a moment like this…" he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper as he tightened his grip around her hand.
"Why don't we deliver some pizza to the guys and then take the rest of the evening for ourselves? Perhaps enjoy a night out in the city?" Fiona proposed, her eyes softening as she watched Scourge press a gentle kiss to her hand before she reached for the last bite of her pizza slice.
"You read my mind, babe," Scourge mumbled in a low, gravelly tone against her hand before releasing it to rest lightly on the table.
"I'll grab the pizza," Fiona offered, an eager smile playing on her lips as she rose from her seat to join the queue.
"Roger that," Scourge responded, shooting her a playful salute before his attention was drawn to the television mounted on the wall. He cringed as an ad for the latest single from an up-and-coming teen pop sensation sang from the speakers while he polished off the last of his pizza. As he began to drain the remnants of his soda, a breaking news bulletin interrupted the regular programming. A police chase was underway, with the suspect described as a female blue child hedgehog. She had been seen stealing from a shopping district on the opposite side of town, and had reportedly assaulted officers when confronted.
Scourge's eyes bulged, his jaw dropping in disbelief. He slammed his empty cup down onto the table, causing a resounding clatter, and belted out, "Fiona!"
Hearing Scourge's cry, Fiona quickly spun on her heel and hurried back to their table. "What's wrong?" she inquired, her eyebrows furrowing in alarm at the urgency in his voice.
Scourge pointed a finger towards the television screen, revealing to her the blurry image of Toxic taken from a security camera that was now being broadcast across the city, her antics having caught the attention of the local law enforcement.