Hello, dear readers and loyal followers!
I'm thrilled to be back with yet another installment in The Darker Side series! Volume Three takes us on an exciting journey as we witness Manic's rise and the formation of his legendary team, the Alpha Squad.
Dive in, enjoy, and don't forget to share your thoughts—your reviews are the heartbeat of this journey and fuel my creativity!
Happy reading!
—RTP
* * * * *
"Come on…" Manic muttered, pacing back and forth within the belly of the CH-47 Chinook. The helicopter's double rotors whirred above them, filling the cabin with a deafening hum as it cut through the smoky sky, carrying Manic and Sonia to Station Square. It was a reunion that was long overdue—a meeting laced with both hope and fear.
Sonia, sitting calmly despite the constant sway of the helicopter, glanced up from the book she was reading, her expression softening at the sight of her brother's agitation. "Calm yourself, Manic. Randy can't make this chopper go any faster. We wouldn't want to break apart mid-air, now would we?" she said, her tone level but with a hint of teasing.
Manic let out a frustrated breath, running a hand through his wild green quills. "Well, Sis, it wouldn't be any different from the rest of the world. Everything is broken…" he grumbled, his voice heavy with a mix of anger and resignation. With a final huff, he walked up to the cockpit, eager to get a glimpse of what lay ahead.
"Randy, what's our ETA?" Manic asked as he approached the grizzled old man piloting the craft.
Randy, his gray hair bristling under his headset, grunted without taking his eyes off the horizon. "We're about ten minutes out," he rumbled, then paused as his expression darkened. "But, Manic... have you seen how bad it is?" He nodded towards the windshield, and Manic followed his gaze.
Manic's heart sank at the sight. Below, the landscape of Station Square sprawled out in a state of complete ruin. Fires still raged within the skeletal remains of some buildings, sending thick black plumes into the sky. Streets, once filled with bustling traffic, were littered with abandoned cars and debris, and the distant sound of chaos echoed even above the Chinook's powerful rotors.
"It's just… desolation," Manic whispered, the weight of it all pressing down on his chest. He clenched his jaw. "Looks like this place is no better off." He tried to swallow the worry clawing at his throat. "I wonder if they made it out alright... If Tails and the others survived too…"
He turned back and made his way down the narrow aisle, his boots clanging against the metal floor, and sank into the seat next to Sonia. "We're about eight minutes out. Better gear up," he said, his voice low.
Sonia nodded, closing her book and setting it aside as they began gathering their gear—helmets, tactical vests, and Manic's beloved pair of drumsticks, reinforced and sharpened to serve as his weapons of choice. The seconds ticked by, and finally, Randy's voice crackled over the intercom.
"Alright, we're descending into Station Square... Be careful, you two. It's a mess down there. Looks like a firefight had just ended I see some people gathering near a large, covered statue in the center of the city. I'd check there."
As the Chinook began its descent, Manic could feel the rotors' roar shifting, the downward thrust pushing against the earth below. Dust and debris swirled around them as the landing gear made contact, and the bay doors slowly began to open, revealing the devastation of Station Square.
Manic's eyes quickly locked onto a figure near the landing zone. Shadow the Hedgehog, his red and black quills distinct even through the haze, was already speaking with Randy, who had stepped out of the cockpit to assess the area.
"Yeah, I'd be happy to help transport the wounded," Randy was saying, his voice muffled by the background noise of the city. "Just let me offload these two first."
Shadow nodded in response, but then his crimson eyes met Manic's, and his expression shifted—something dark passed over his face.
"Shadow!" Manic called out, jumping down from the Chinook, his boots hitting the pavement with a solid thud. "Hey! It looks like you've been through hell!" He offered a grin, though it was tinged with worry. "Where's Sonic? I'll drop our gear with him, and we'll come help!"
Shadow stood there, still as a statue, his gaze fixed on Manic as if struggling to find the right words. The silence stretched on for a moment too long, and Manic's heart began to sink.
Before Shadow could respond, Amy stepped forward, her eyes glistening with an emotion that made Manic's stomach twist. "I got it, Shadow," she said gently, placing a hand on his arm. Shadow nodded, his jaw clenched, and turned away. He hesitated, as if wanting to say something more to Manic and Sonia—something important. But instead, his shoulders sagged, and he sprinted off toward a group of injured soldiers, his form blurring as he moved.
Sonia joined Manic, her eyes darting from Amy to Shadow's retreating figure. "Amy?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper. "Where's Sonic?"
Amy's face crumpled for a moment before she steeled herself, taking a shaky breath. She reached out, wrapping her arms around Sonia in a hug. "I'm so sorry…" she whispered.
Manic felt his world teetering, his breath catching in his throat. His mind raced, grasping for explanations, denials—anything. "No... No, that can't be. He's... He's Sonic," Manic stammered, his voice breaking. He looked at Amy, his eyes wide, desperate for her to take back the words she hadn't even spoken outright.
Amy closed her eyes, tears slipping free as she tightened her embrace around Sonia. "He... He didn't make it, Manic. He's gone."
Manic stumbled back, his knees almost buckling beneath him. The world around him seemed to blur, the sounds of chaos fading into the background. His big brother—his hero—was gone.
Manic's body shook with rage, and he punched the ground, his fist slamming into the dirt over and over again. Each impact sent shockwaves up his arm, but he welcomed the pain. The ground beneath his knuckles cracked, small clouds of dust rising with each strike, until the soil was marred by a large, uneven dent, now turning slightly crimson from the blood seeping from his torn skin.
Sonia watched, her heart breaking as she saw her brother unravel. Without hesitation, she rushed to him, dropping to her knees beside him. She wrapped her arms around him tightly, trying to still his frantic, self-destructive punches. Manic's movements slowed, his strength waning, his fists trembling. His knuckles, raw and bloodied, hovered above the earth before finally falling limp at his sides.
"Manic, please..." Sonia whispered, her voice barely audible over the chaos around them. Tears blurred her vision as she held her brother close.
"I'll kill them…" Manic growled, his voice broken, ragged with fury and grief. He clenched his teeth so hard it hurt, his breath catching in his throat. "Whoever did this… I'll fucking kill them…" He choked on the words, his entire body trembling as his chest heaved with heavy, gasping sobs, each breath almost painful in its intensity.
Sonia held him tighter, her hands pressing against his back, trying to shield him from a pain that she knew she could never take away. "I'm so sorry, brother…" she whispered, her voice thick with her own sorrow. She rocked him gently, her fingers running through his quills in an attempt to soothe him.
Manic's arms slowly rose, his movements shaky, until he wrapped them around his sister, clinging to her as if she was the only thing keeping him from completely shattering. He buried his head in her shoulder, his tears soaking into her clothing, and finally, he let go. The anger that had consumed him just moments before crumbled, leaving behind nothing but raw, aching despair.
A wailing sob tore from his throat, the sound guttural and unrestrained. It was the kind of sound that came from a place deep within—a place that had been shattered. Manic's grief filled the air, drowning out the chaos of the ruined city around them. It was a grief born from the loss of not just his brother, but his hero, his guide, the one who had always been there to show him the way.
Sonia felt her own tears spill freely as she held him, her own heart breaking for her brother, for the pain that had consumed him. She could feel the way his body trembled against hers, the way he clung to her as if he was afraid that, if he let go, he would lose everything that was left. She rested her cheek against the top of his head, her own sobs mingling with his, the two of them kneeling there amidst the wreckage, bound together by their shared loss.
"It's not fair," Manic gasped out, his voice muffled against Sonia's shoulder, each word laced with agony. "He was supposed to be invincible... He was supposed to always be here..."
Sonia closed her eyes, her own tears falling as she whispered, "I know, Mani. I know..." She felt her own heart crack under the weight of those words because she had believed it too. Sonic had always seemed larger than life—unstoppable, untouchable. The idea that he was gone felt impossible, like some cruel joke played by a world that had already taken too much from them.
Manic pulled back slightly, his eyes red, swollen, and brimming with tears. He looked at his sister, his face twisted in anguish. "How... How do we do this without him?" His voice broke, the question escaping as a whisper, so fragile that Sonia could barely hear it. "How do I do this without him?"
Sonia reached up, cupping his face gently in her hands, her thumbs brushing away his tears even as her own continued to fall. "We take it one step at a time," she said, her voice shaking but resolute. "We keep going. For him. Because that's what he would want, Manic. He wouldn't want us to give up."
Manic's eyes searched hers, desperate for something to hold on to, something that could make sense of the senselessness. The pain was still there, sharp and unyielding, but in Sonia's eyes, he found a glimmer of something else—something that wasn't anger or despair. It was love, and it was strength. It was the same strength that had kept them going all this time, even when everything else had fallen apart.
Slowly, Manic nodded, swallowing hard as he tried to steady his breathing. "For him," he whispered, his voice cracking but sincere. He closed his eyes, leaning his forehead against Sonia's, drawing from her strength as he tried to pull himself back from the edge of the abyss.
"For Sonic," Sonia echoed, her voice a promise. They stayed like that for a moment longer, holding each other amidst the ruins of a battered city. The world around them was still broken, still filled with chaos and destruction, but in that moment, they found something to hold on to. And as Manic rose to his feet, Sonia at his side, he knew that somehow, they would find a way to keep moving forward. One step at a time.
The remainder of the day was grueling—filled with ash, smoke, and a despair that weighed heavily on the air. Manic buried his emotions deep, locking them away somewhere far beyond reach. There would be a time to mourn, a time to let the grief consume him, but today was not that day. He had made a promise to Shadow, and that promise became his purpose. He dropped his belongings with Amy at a makeshift mobile command post—an arrangement of tents and hastily constructed shelters—and then moved out into the ruins of Station Square.
Every person he found, every life he helped save, fueled a fire within him. It was a fire that demanded justice—no, vengeance. He would find the people behind this, those responsible for this chaos and suffering, and they would pay. They had taken everything from him, and for that, he would make sure they paid the ultimate price.
Sonia, on the other hand, stayed by Amy's side, working tirelessly within the triage unit. They did what they could for the wounded, providing first aid, comfort, and hope where there was none. The cries of the injured were a constant reminder of the devastation that had befallen them all. Most of the critically wounded were airlifted to Angel Island, where Knuckles worked tirelessly, using the chaotic energies of the Master Emerald to purge the survivors of radiation poisoning and stabilize them. The strain was immense, but Knuckles pressed on, refusing to rest until he had done everything within his power.
When Knuckles finally did take a break, he found Manic alone in the dirt a cold, untouched meal in his hands. Knuckles could see te exhaustion in his all, having escorted one of the victims that had lost her sight, Manic seen to making sure she reached the safety of the island personally. After which he had been taken to a tent where a wrapped meal was handed to him. And as he walked out into the open air of the Island, breathing deep for the first time in hours. he found a place to sit and think. Manic sat on the edge of a crumbling step, his eyes distant, unfocused, staring at something only he could see. The shadows of exhaustion and loss haunted his features, and he looked like he was holding himself together by sheer force of will.
Knuckles approached slowly, his heavy footsteps crunching over the debris-strewn ground. He settled beside Manic without a word, allowing a moment of silence to stretch between them before speaking. "It's good to see you again, Manic," Knuckles said, his deep voice gentle, almost hesitant.
Manic didn't respond at first, didn't even look at him. He simply nodded, a brief movement of acknowledgment that barely counted. Knuckles sighed, understanding the depth of his friend's pain. "I know that none of this is easy," he continued, his voice softer now. "I just wanted to let you know that you aren't alone. You have friends here to help you—both of you."
Manic closed his eyes, raising a hand to signal Knuckles to stop. He set the meal aside, the sight of food making his stomach twist painfully. He forced himself to swallow, feeling the tension build in his throat. "Listen…" He paused, trying to gather the words, trying to keep himself together. "I appreciate what you're trying to do, Knux, but don't." His voice cracked slightly, and he clenched his jaw, his hands balling into fists.
"This... all of this... it's my own personal hell," Manic said, his voice trembling with the weight of what he felt. His eyes were still downcast, staring at the broken ground, at his bloodied knuckles, as if he could find the answers there. "It's like this everywhere, and I can't do anything to stop it... And there's no going back to normal, there's no fixing any of it. It's like a constant royal screw job without any lube."
His voice broke, and he allowed a single, ragged sob to escape—a sound so raw and filled with pain that it seemed to cut through the air itself. He huffed, biting his lower lip, trying to force the sob back down. Blood welled from the cut, staining his lips crimson, but he didn't care. Pain was grounding—it kept him from losing himself entirely.
Knuckles watched him, his own heart aching for his friend. He knew there was nothing he could say to make it better, nothing that could take away what had happened. But still, he stayed, offering his silent support.
Manic finally looked up, meeting Knuckles' gaze, his green eyes filled with a storm of emotions—anger, sorrow, despair. He forced himself to speak, his voice hoarse. "Like I said, thanks for your concern, but I'm okay with not being okay." His lips twitched into something that might have been a smile, but it was twisted, filled with bitterness. "As long as I get the bastards that did this to my family, I'll keep forcing myself to wake up every morning. I'll keep pushing on, even when it feels like I can't."
He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, smearing the blood, and slowly rose to his feet, his legs unsteady. He looked down at Knuckles, his expression hardening, a flicker of determination cutting through the pain. "I got to... My lil' sis ain't got no one else now."
Knuckles nodded, standing as well, his eyes filled with both sorrow and admiration. Manic was broken, but he was still standing, still fighting, and that was something that couldn't be taken away from him. "We've got your back, Manic," Knuckles said quietly. "No matter what. You and Sonia, you're not alone."
Manic gave another nod, a slight dip of his head, and then he turned, walking away without another word. Knuckles watched him go, watched the way his shoulders slumped, the weight of the world pressing down on him. He knew that Manic's journey was far from over, and that the pain he carried would be with him for a long time. But Manic was still here. He was still fighting. And as long as he was, there was still a chance—still a reason to keep going.
Knuckles sighed, glancing back at the tents, at the survivors who still needed him. He clenched his fists, determination settling into his chest. They would make it through this. They had to. For Sonic, for the world they had lost, and for the hope of a better future. One step at a time, they would keep moving forward.
A few Days Later
It was a dreary morning, the sky a canvas of dull gray that seemed to reflect the somber atmosphere of the camp. Manic stirred awake in his cot, the thin blanket tangled around his legs from a restless sleep. He blinked a few times, the hazy fog of exhaustion still clouding his senses. The air was chilly, and he could feel the cold bite against his skin as he shifted to sit up.
Glancing over, he saw Sonia's still form, tightly rolled up in her cot. Her face was peaceful, her breathing steady and deep. A rare moment of tranquility amidst the chaos. "Let her sleep," Manic thought, his heart aching for his sister. "Let her dream… Let her be rid of all of this reality…" He prayed silently, wishing her dreams were of happier times, of moments when their family was whole—when laughter and warmth filled their lives instead of this never-ending struggle for survival.
Quietly, he stood, careful not to wake her, and moved to wash up. He splashed cold water onto his face, feeling the chill shock his system awake. A sigh escaped his lips as he looked at his reflection in the cracked mirror—his eyes were bloodshot, dark circles evident under them, and his knuckles were still raw, the bruises vivid against his green fur. So much had changed in the weeks since their arrival.
Station Square had slowly become a beacon of hope for rebuilding. It was far from perfect, but progress was progress. Power had been restored to several parts of the city, and out of nowhere, robots had arrived one day. They were unlike anything he had seen—efficient, precise, seemingly autonomous—and they had begun aiding in the cleanup efforts. They worked tirelessly, removing radiation, clearing debris, and even building basic structures so that people could have a place to stay, something to protect them from the elements.
The changes were overwhelming, and every small victory had been hard-earned. Even more surprising was the news Manic had learned—Tails had indeed survived. Not only that, but he was leading a populace in Station Square and beyond, territories now known as the Free Mobian Empire. "Tails, an emperor?" Manic thought as he rewrapped his bruised knuckles, a faint, humorless smile tugging at his lips. "Well, like I said… normal is gone, so I guess this is okay."
He moved to the radio, sitting down at the communication console. The device was a hodgepodge of old parts, something hastily put together but functional. He typed in the credentials, then spoke into the mic, his voice steady but laced with a weariness that was hard to mask. "Rabbid Rodent to Frozen Furball, I repeat, Rabbid Rodent to Frozen Furball, come in, over."
There was a moment of static, the crackling of the radio filling the quiet room. Then, a familiar voice broke through. "That's Frozen Fury, Manic. But yeah, I'm here." The voice had a playful tone to it, one that managed to bring a small smile to Manic's face. "Razor and I are finishing some things on our end and flying in. We should be there sometime soon if all goes right.."
Manic nodded, a sense of relief washing over him at the thought of seeing them again. "Good. It'll be great to see you two. My brother's funeral is today, so I doubt I'll be on later to check in."
"Understood." There was a pause, and the voice softened. "Hang tight, my friend. We'll be with you soon."
After the radio went silent, Manic leaned back in his chair, his eyes staring at the ceiling for a moment. He pushed himself to his feet and made his way back to his cot. He reached under his pillow, retrieving a small flask. The cold metal felt comforting against his palm, and he moved to take a swig—anything to dull the aching void inside him, if only for a little while.
Before he could, something soft struck him in the side of the head. A pillow.
"Not before the funeral, Manic!" Sonia's voice was firm, her eyes filled with a mix of concern and exasperation. She reached for the flask, and with a reluctant sigh, Manic handed it over. Sonia set it aside before wrapping her arms around him, pulling her brother into a tight embrace.
"I need you here with me, big bro," she whispered, her voice cracking ever so slightly. "I lost Sonic to this world… I don't need to lose you too."
Manic closed his eyes, biting down hard on his lip to suppress the wave of emotions threatening to break free. He had to be strong for her, for everyone. He swallowed back the grief, forcing himself to stay composed. After a moment, Sonia pulled away and handed him a neatly folded outfit, her eyes softening as she looked at him.
"Now, get dressed," she said, her tone gentle but insistent. "We need to get on the move."
Manic took the clothes, nodding in silent agreement. He watched as Sonia moved to prepare herself, her resolve unbroken despite everything they'd been through. And for her, he'd do the same. He had to. He couldn't let her down, not now, not ever.
He steeled himself, standing tall as he began to get ready for the day ahead. Today was going to be hard—harder than anything he'd faced before—but he owed it to Sonic, to Sonia, to all of them, to keep going. To honor the memory of his brother, and to make sure their fight for a better world was not in vain.
As they exited the makeshift shelter, they made their way down the road to the central part of the city, the cold autumn winds catching him off guard. "What is it with funerals and blustery or dismal days?" he asked Sonia as she walked beside him.
"Even the world knows what is lost and shares her condolences," Sonia said as she walked.
Manic adjusted the collar of his jacket as he approached the tent, the sight of the Statue of Cosmo and his brother standing over Station Square its gaze sending a chill down his spine. People gathered, leaving mementos and tokens of love at its base—a stuffed animal here, a photograph there. Manic clenched his jaw, fighting back the emotions that threatened to rise within him, refusing to let them gain the upper hand. He needed to be strong. For Sonic. For Sonia.
He reached the edge of the tent and paused, his eyes scanning the familiar faces. The rows of chairs, many already occupied by grieving families, seemed to stretch endlessly before him. Manic took a deep breath, his gaze shifting toward the casket that lay at the front, adorned in blues and golds—the colors that represented everything Sonic stood for. Everything he had lived and fought for.
"Hey, Manic..." A soft voice interrupted his thoughts.
Manic turned, his eyes meeting Amy's. She stood a few steps away, her face puffy from tears, yet her eyes were filled with the same strength and warmth he remembered from years past. Amy had always been the heart of their group, the one who held them all together when the world seemed to be falling apart.
"Amy." Manic's voice came out rougher than he intended, and he cleared his throat, trying to regain some composure. "Hey."
She gave him a small, sad smile and stepped closer, placing a gentle hand on his arm. "It's good to see you here... I know how hard this must be." Manic nodded, swallowing hard. He didn't trust himself to speak. Instead, he looked past Amy, his eyes locking on the casket once again. Sonic lay inside, his face calm, serene—so unlike the whirlwind of energy and laughter Manic remembered. A surge of grief welled up inside him, and for a moment, he felt like a kid again—lost, alone, and terrified without his big brother.
Amy squeezed his arm, her voice soft. "We're all here for each other, Manic. You don't have to go through this alone."
He nodded again, barely able to hold back the tears. "Thanks, Amy," he managed, his voice breaking slightly.
Amy gave him a final pat on the arm before stepping back, allowing Manic the space he needed. He approached the casket slowly, each step feeling heavier than the last. His legs felt like lead, his heart pounding in his chest as he moved closer.
The air was thick with floral scents, mingling with the faint tang of ocean breeze. His steps were slow, deliberate, as if every inch closer to the casket was a battle he fought within himself.
Sonia was there already she had continued when Manic stopped to speak with amy. She was frozen, standing beside the casket, her face pale, her eyes hollow. She looked up at Manic as he approached, her lips trembling, and without a word, she reached out for him. Manic wrapped his arms around his sister, holding her tightly as she buried her face in his shoulder, her body shaking with silent sobs.
"It's okay, sis... I'm here," he whispered, his voice cracking, his own tears finally spilling over as he held her. They stayed like that for a while, clinging to each other as the world moved around them. The whispers, the distant hum of voices, the rustle of the wind through the tent—all of it faded into the background as the two siblings stood together, united in their grief.
After a moment, Sonia pulled back, wiping her eyes. She gave Manic a shaky smile, her voice barely above a whisper. "We should say something... to him."
Manic nodded, his gaze shifting to Sonic's peaceful face. He stepped closer, placing a trembling hand on the edge of the casket. "Hey, bro..." he began, his voice hoarse. He paused, struggling to find the words. "I... I wish you were here. I wish... things could be like they were before."
His breath hitched, and he looked away, blinking back tears. "I'm gonna take care of Sonia. I promise. I'm gonna make sure she's okay. I just... I miss you, man."
Sonia stepped up beside him, her hand resting on top of his, her eyes locked on their brother. "We both do," she whispered, her voice breaking. "We both miss you so much."
A moment of silence passed between them, the weight of everything they had lost hanging heavily in the air. Manic took a deep breath, trying to steady himself, before he finally stepped back, giving Sonia a small nod.
"I need a minute," he murmured, his voice barely audible.
Sonia nodded, her eyes filled with understanding, and she stepped away, leaving Manic alone for a brief moment. He clenched his fists, his gaze dropping to the ground, the pain in his chest almost unbearable.
Then, a voice broke through the fog of his grief.
"Manic."
Manic looked up, his eyes meeting the familiar, serious gaze of Shadow, who stood a few feet away, his arms crossed over his chest. Shadow gave him a small nod, his eyes softening. "You're not alone in this."
Manic swallowed hard, his throat tight. He nodded, his voice cracking. "Thanks, Shadow."
Shadow stepped forward, resting a hand on Manic's shoulder. There was no need for more words. In that simple gesture, Manic felt the support of not just Shadow, but of everyone who had gathered here today. They were all in this together, united by their love for Sonic, their determination to honor his memory.
Manic took a deep breath, looking back at the casket one last time, his heart heavy but filled with a renewed sense of purpose. Sonic may have been gone, but his spirit, his legacy—it lived on in each of them. And for that, Manic knew he had to keep moving forward.
He had to be strong. For Sonic. For Sonia. For everyone.
Shadow squeezed Manics shoulder one final time before stepping away. Manic was left alone, surrounded by people, yet isolated in a way only grief can create. He didn't move. He couldn't. His feet felt rooted to the ground, his body turned to stone. He hadn't just lost a brother—he had lost their leader, their anchor, the one who always seemed to know what to do.
Manic could barely breathe. The air felt heavy, suffocating, and he was aware of the way his chest tightened, as though the grief were squeezing the life from him. He could hear muffled voices around him, but none of them mattered. It was as if he were underwater, and the world beyond Sonic's casket was just a distant blur.
He barely noticed Miles approaching until the young fox was beside him, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. The touch was a trigger which jolted Manic back to the present, and the weight of everything he'd been holding back crashed over him. Without thinking, he jerked away, as though Miles' touch seared him, spinning to face him with fists clenched and eyes wild with grief.
Miles stepped back, hands raised in a gesture of peace. "It's okay, Manic," he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper.
The tension drained from Manic's body, leaving him feeling empty, hollow. He rubbed the back of his neck, breaking eye contact. "Sorry… I didn't mean—" The words felt useless, falling flat between them.
"It's fine," Miles said, his voice calm and steady. "I understand."
And Manic knew he did. Miles had lost Sonic too. He had lost the brother who had raised him, who had always been there when the world felt too big and too dangerous. If anyone understood, it was Miles.
"C'mon" Miles gestured towards the back of the tent, away from the crowd. Manic nodded, and they walked outside together, finding a quiet spot where they could escape the noise and the weight of all the eyes watching them. The air was cool, and a gentle breeze rustled the leaves above them, the sound soothing in a way that nothing else had been.
Manic found himself talking without really intending to, his voice distant and hollow. He spoke of the chaos in Edensburg, place he'd been living, the constant bloodshed, the way everything seemed to be falling apart. He spoke of how they hadn't known about Sonic's death until they arrived, and how that knowledge felt like it had torn something out of him.
Miles just listened, his eyes steady, filled with an understanding that made it easier for Manic to continue. He didn't try to offer empty reassurances, didn't tell Manic that it would be okay. He just listened, and for the first time in a long time, Manic felt a small measure of comfort.
After a while, the conversation shifted, and they began sharing memories—stories of Sonic, of their childhood. Manic spoke of the band they had once started, the Sonic Underground, and how he had wanted to get them back together for one last adventure. His eyes lit up at the memory, a flicker of something other than pain breaking through the grief.
Miles smiled, surprised. Sonic had always kept his past close, never really talking about it unless he had to. Hearing these stories felt like uncovering hidden treasures, small pieces of a brother he had always admired but never fully known.
Eventually, the conversation turned to Sonia and Manic's current situation. They had nowhere to go now—another casualty of the chaos they had been living in. It was one of the reasons for coming here, hoping to find some sense of stability, something to hold onto in a world that seemed determined to fall apart. They had been staying at a small thrown together outpost inside stationsquare that was kinda of out of the way, in the rear of a burnt out motel.
Without hesitation, Miles offered them a place to stay. His voice was steady, the offer genuine. Manic looked at him, and for a moment, the weight on his chest felt a little lighter. He told Miles he would talk to Sonia about it, and Miles nodded, as if that was all that needed to be said.
They walked back to the tent, the murmur of the crowd falling into a hush as Knuckles stood at the front to speak. His voice was strong, though thick with emotion. One by one, friends and allies stepped forward to share their memories of Sonic, each story a small piece of the person he had been. Even Shadow, always so distant and stoic, stepped up, his words clipped but filled with meaning.
Manic stood beside Sonia, feeling her hand on his arm, and for the first time in what felt like forever, he didn't feel quite so alone. They had lost so much, but they still had each other. And maybe, just maybe, that would be enough to keep going.
It was his chance to speak. Manic moved up and stood at the front, his eyes scanning the crowd, lingering briefly on Sonic's casket. He took a deep breath, willing himself to stay composed. He hadn't wanted to speak, but this was Sonic—his older brother, their protector. He owed him this.
"Um…" He started, his voice barely above a whisper. He cleared his throat, forcing himself to speak louder. "Sonic was… well, he was everything. He was the big brother who always had our backs. He looked out for us when no one else would, and he was the one who made sure we always had hope, no matter how dark things got."
Manic paused, his eyes blurring as he looked at the casket. He blinked quickly, trying to stave off the tears that threatened to spill. "He… he was more than just a hero to the world. He was our brother. He was the one who always knew what to say, who knew how to make us laugh when everything felt like it was falling apart."
His voice broke, a tremble running through it. He swallowed hard, trying to force the words out, but they got caught in his throat. He took a shaky breath, his hands gripping the edges of the podium as if it was the only thing holding him upright.
"He… he always…" Manic's voice cracked again, and he squeezed his eyes shut, a tear escaping down his cheek. "He always knew how to make us feel safe," he choked out, his voice breaking completely as the tears came. He tried to speak again, but the words wouldn't come. A sob tore from his chest, and he covered his face with his hand, his shoulders shaking.
In an instant, Sonia was at his side, her arms wrapping around him tightly. Manic turned into her embrace, his sobs muffled against her shoulder. She held him, whispering softly, her own tears falling as she tried to comfort him. The crowd watched in silence, the weight of their shared grief settling over them like a heavy blanket.
After what felt like an eternity, Manic pulled away slightly, wiping his face with the back of his hand. He took a deep, shuddering breath, his voice still thick with emotion as he spoke again. "I love you, Sonic," he whispered, his eyes locked on the casket. "I'm gonna miss you more than words can say."
He looked at Sonia, his arm still around her shoulders, and then back at the crowd. "I promise…I'll do my best to honor your memory. I'll take care of her, just like you always took care of us..." His voice was steadier now, though still laced with pain. "You were always the best of us, and I…I'll make sure you're never forgotten."
Manic stepped away from the podium, his arm still around Sonia as they walked back to their seats. The crowd remained silent, the air thick with the weight of their loss. Manic knew that nothing he said could ever truly capture what Sonic had meant to them—but he hoped, in some small way, that his brother knew how much he was loved, and how deeply he would be missed.