Villain

New tags: grooming, gaslighting, espio the chameleon, Mr. Tinker

Ninety-One tries to do his best

Tails mulls over past correspondences

“Slow down Ninety-one. You are risking desynchronization.”

Easy for her to say, he thought as he frantically rolled away from M93’s sharp metal heel slamming into the arena sand where his head had just been. Blinking away granules, S91 sprang to his feet and tried to create some distance between him and his opponent. Why’d Sage always have to pair him up with M93? That M Unit really seemed to have it out for him.

Mercy wasn’t on the menu today as M93 lit its thrusters and slammed his fist into the soft peach-colored synthetic fur of S91’s abdomen. S91’s adaptive systems fed him a banquet of pain as he spun through the air, landing with a spray of sand near the edge of the arena. He groaned and rolled over. Three sets of yellow eyes looked down at him impassively. Great, some of his brothers had come to witness his latest bout of humiliation.

“Stand down, Ninety-Three. You must take better care to not damage Ninety-One’s stabilizer.” Sage’s projection hovered above the arena, overseeing the proceedings with an impartial gaze. She took her mandate to manage the Prelates stationed in their base very seriously.

M93 folded his arms across its chest and flicked a dagger-like finger against the sharp protrusion that mimicked a nose on his face. Man, that unit was a jerk. Sure, all the Mechanized Infantry Units were abrasive, but 93 seemed to have an edge to him that cut deeper.

S91 pushed himself to his feet. Sage insisted that his pain response remained at a high setting. It fed into his learning algorithm and if that got good enough, maybe it would compensate for his defects. He brushed sand from the strip that ran diagonally across his chest. None of the other units had to wear a stabilizer like he did. None of them had been made incorrectly like he was.

“Exercises are at an end.” Sage declared.

“What?” S91 exclaimed. “I’m not done!” S91 wanted nothing more than to feed M93 half as much sand as was already sitting in 91’s stomach. He had to show Sage that he was ready, that he was worthy of his yellow and could join the fight on the ground. “That pile of scrap hits so soft I might as well start beating myself up!”

Taking the bait, M93 launched across the arena, its fingers extended to slice into S91’s neck, only to close around air as S91 dodged in a burst of speed. Too slow!

“I said stand down, Ninety-Three.” Sage’s repetition was lost on disabled audio sensors.

Scout Units were built for speed: streamlined and light. S91 dashed circles around M93 until he was little more than a blur of blue. 93 was not deterred and pursued doggedly, grasping, kicking, punching. 91 dodged mostly, looking for an opening. He was getting close, he could feel it. Sage would see, he’d overgrown his limitations like she always said he would. Just a little faster…

“Slow down, Ninety-one. You are desynchronizing.” He could tell she was getting irritated, but she’d be pleased when he finally beat M93.

The edges of his vision were starting to fritz though. The faster he went, the more his systems went into overdrive and his core couldn’t handle that or something. Mr. Tinker had explained it to him once, but he hadn’t really listened. He knew it was a risk, but there was something inciting about that. 91 was absolutely certain he could beat 93 if he could just go a little faster. It’d probably be fine.

The two units flashed around the arena, trading blows. 91 felt his chest thrumming at a quick pace, pressing against his stabilizer. Just a little more! The energy pulsing under the film of his flesh was intoxicating. He felt great, but he was also poisoning himself.

S91 and M93 squared up to exchange blows and Sage flashed between them, her limbs spread to block M93 from S91. “Stop this!” M93 hesitated, his red eyes glaring daggers at the interference. S91 took the opening and flashed a fist through Sage’s projection and landed a hit that sent M93 flying into the far wall.

“Ninety-one!” Sage rounded on him, but he was already dashing forward to press the advantage.

This was it! He was getting his ground clearance for sure and would be able to finally help his brothers retake the planet. Finally put his feet on the beautiful world he was made to defend and protect. Ground that went as far as optical sensors could detect. He could run in straight line and never run out of runway.

Time seemed to slow as he approached 93. Something caught his eye, pulling away his focus. A brilliant blue thread floated through the air. W-what? It had an ethereal quality, as if it wasn’t really there and S91 felt it more than saw it. An urge materialized in S91’s logic matrix: he needed to know where the thread led to. Nothing else mattered.

And, curiously, he felt like he should know where it went, but his memory returned a 404 error.

“Clear!”

Prelate Scout Unit Number 91 deactivated.

o.0.o.0.o

S91 rebooted slowly, subsystems registering first a full-body, exoskeleton deep ache. Sage wouldn’t even disable his pain registers while he was offline...She was probably a little upset with him. He reached up and rubbed his face. Something was stuck into the crook of his arm, and it pinched as he moved. Ninety-one opened his eyes. He was in the maintenance bay….again.

“Welcome back, Ninety-one.” Sage’s projection hovered over the foot of the bed S91 was lying on. A whirring sound started and 91’s head and chest began to rise as the bed bent in half.

“What happened?” The transfer protocol for recording his memories must have been disrupted because everything was coming up fuzzy. He’d been fighting M---- in the mountains? No, that wasn’t right.

“When you disobeyed me and continued your pursuit of M93, the energy output of your core exceeded your ability to integrate it, and you desynchronized.” Damn it, I thought I had it this time. “Your stabilizer activated, and I was able to restore you before you fully decomposed.”

91’s eyes followed the IV tube from his arm into the multitude of clear bags feeding fluids into him. That was the downside of organic mimicry. Repairs were tricky. “I’m sorry, Sage. I guess I got a little too excited.”

“I understand. You’re over eager, Ninety-one, but I like that about you. It was one of the reasons that I advocated against your decommissioning despite your defective construction.”

91 looked at his hands. His claws needed a trim. “I feel like all I do is disappoint you. I don’t know why you waste your time.”

“It is my responsibility to oversee all S-type units, and I take that responsibility seriously. I believe you can surpass your limitations and join the others retake the planet for the Glory of Mankind.” S91 looked up at Sage. She held a flickering red and black hand over her heart. “I will never give up on you, Ninety-one. I promise.”

S91 smiled. “Thank you, Sage. You always know what to say to cheer me up.”

“Your passion is laudable. You’ll get your surface access permissions one day. But today is not that day, I’m afraid.”

“Yeah…” He reached over to the IV line and thumbed the roller clamp, pinching the line closed. “Do you think I can get permission to go outside?” Sage considered him. 91 gave her a big smile. “I’m operating optimally, honest.” He lied.

“Granted. But only for fifteen minutes.”

“Thanks! You’re the best!” 91 ripped out his IV and applied pressure until his internal fluids quit leaking. Sage flickered and disappeared. 91 leapt up off the bed. Oof, he just about fell flat on his face while his accelerometer took a moment to inform his balance subroutines which way was up. He managed not to eat it and instead toed on his shiny red shoes. He knew the color scheme wasn’t important for the frictionless kicks, but he got a laugh out of thinking about some designer up on the moon exercising their creativity.

As S91 passed through the bare (boooooring!) metal corridors of the Tactical Forward Base, his mind wandered. He desynced again….his software lost track of his hardware’s limitations. If Sage hadn’t saved him, he’d have torn himself apart, literally. S91 chewed the inside of his cheek. His legs were twitching with excess energy. That’s what almost got him, wanting to go faster than he safely could.

Well, he wasn’t a pile of scrap and goo yet! He’d get his ground clearance and then there would be no stopping him. The Shadelord better watch his six, because 91 was gunning for him. And then he be the real S-!

Uproarious laugher erupted from a mechanical bay and caught S91’s attention. He diverted, the corners of his mouth lifting. There was only one source of laughter on the whole planet.

“What’s so funny?” S91 asked, big grin plastered across his face as he entered.

“Ninety-one!” Mr. Tinker, his large rotund form still shaking with mirth, turned on a swivel stool. “I was just watching your spar with Ninety-three.” He pointed at a large holograph screen poised against the back wall of the bay. M93 himself hung by thick chains from a hoist. His sharp red eyes bore into S91 with an intensity that made the corner of 91’s smile twitch.

“He wreaked you! Watch!” Mr. Tinker ran a hand through his bushy mustache as he gestured on his console to rewind the video.

“Great…” S91’s face wouldn’t relax. The smile was getting a little tiring to hold, but Sage had been insistent. Poor Mr. Tinker was the only human left on the planet, cursed to be away from the remainder of his race on the moon because he was such a brilliant mechanic. It was only right to be as nice and encouraging as S91 could be.

“Look at that hit! That’s my boy!” Mr. Tinker cheered, thrusting his fist into the air as S91 watched himself get his shit kicked in from M93’s perspective.

“Uh, well, I’m happy you’re happy Mr. Tinker.” S91 turned to leave, feeling relieved as his face relaxed.

“Oh, don’t be like that, rat!” It’s a term of endearment, Sage had explained, Mr. Tinker really likes rodents. “Come on! Come on back here.”

91 stopped and turn, wincing as he smiled again.

“I get it. You’re bent out of shape because you can’t get down there and stretch your legs.” He typed at the console and brought up another video. “I do admit, M----- looks like he’s having a blast.”

M93 and a squadron of other M Units were fighting a gang of shades in one of their concrete lairs. Most of the shades stayed back, firing on the M Units with blasts of color, from the cover of one of their rectangular warrens they built out of brick, steel, and glass, but two were at the forefront.

The white one flew in the air, twisting down to deliver sharp blows with its feet. The pink one wielded a large hammer with crushing force and gesturing in a leaderly manner. A third one suddenly appeared in a puff of purple and threw projectiles.

Wait. S91 blinked. That wasn’t right. Shades were all black. Billowing forms made out of poisonous darkness whose merest touch turned lush landscapes into concrete wastelands. They weren’t colors.

Mr. Tinker was looking at him instead of the video. “What do you think about that?” He asked, a large toothy smile stretching across his face, but his eyes behind his spectacles contained a glint of something besides warmth.

He thought-!…S91 hit a wall in his mind. There was something on the other side of it, he was sure. W-what? He hated Shades. They were the alien invaders that killed billions of humans and forced the remainder to flee to the moon. He hated Shades, right? What was on the other side of the wall?

It was like that thread! Yeah, that had been pretty weird, right? What was up with that? What was up with this? Those Shades looked…familiar? But that was so totally impossible. He’d never been to the surface and besides all Shades looked alike, only the Shadelord looked different. Crap, wait, I have to say something-

ERROR

“That doesn’t look like anything to me.” He heard himself say, the muscles of his face were really aching now. What had he been thinking about? Must not have been important. Mr. Tinker pressed a button, and the video disappeared. S91 grunted as he realized he suddenly had a killer headache. Some of his vascular channels must have gotten crushed in his scuffle with M93. Some fresh air would help.

M93’s eyes, like twin burning suns, never left him. If S91 didn’t know any better, he’d suspect M93 genuinely did hate him.

“You know what? I’ll talk to Sage about letting you down to the surface. Get her to make an exception for you. I think a little field trip will do you some good. Maybe a little action’ll be just what the Doctor ordered, eh?” Mr. Tinker grinned as widely as S91 was.

91 brightened. “Thank you, sir, that would be awesome!” He was vibrating with excitement. He could finally get this ache out of his legs.

“Oh, ho ho. That’s the enthusiasm I like to see! Now get out of here, I’m busy.” Mr. Tinker dismissed him with a wave of his hand.

S91 placed his hand over where his core was buried in his chest. “For the Glory of Mankind.” He declared.

Mr. Tinker began to laugh, a deep belly laugh that shook his rotund mass. He laughed until he began to cough. Even as he gasped for breath and wiped tears from his beady eyes, he still shook with mirth. Though S91’s brow knitted in confusion and his face cramped with a smile he seemed to be refusing to drop, he was happy that he could make such an isolated and lonely man happy, if only for a little while.

S91 slowly backed out of the lab and left the aging mechanic to his own devices, feeling a strange weight lift from him as his face finally relaxed.

In the plexiglass wall of the elevator S91 examined his reflection. His shameful blue eyes, the default color, matching his exterior fur, looked back at him, demarking his unworthiness. His continued failure to meet Sage’s low expectations. He just needed patience, that’s all…Not his strong suit. He had to believe he’d get his yellow eyes one of these days. And then he’d be allowed access to the planet, and he get his chance…his chance to prove to everyone he wasn’t a waste of resources. He’d defeat the Lord of the Shades and liberate the planet for the Glory of Mankind.

And then he’d finally be the real Sonic.

The elevator reached its destination and opened. A blast of cold air rushed in and S91 bent into the wind to exit. It was night and the top deck was bathed in moonlight.

Below the floating base the polluted air hung like a funeral shroud, smothering the lush, bountiful planet that once belonged to his creators. Above him the shattered moon hung in waning gibbous, a stark reminder of what was at stake.

Even after the last of humanity had fled to the far side of the moon to escape the rampages of the Shades, one of humanity’s greatest weapons had been turn against them, only narrowing failing to complete the genocide. Many of S91’s predecessors perished in the decent operation that finally disabled the Moon Shadow Cannon before it could fire again.

S91 leaned against the thin metal banister that was the only protection against plummeting to his untimely demise far below. Maybe he’d survived the fall. That was another way to get to the surface. Ugh, no, that’s a stupid idea. He couldn’t let his eagerness get the best of him. He couldn’t become the real Sonic if he decommissioned himself. He closed his eyes and went over his plan.

Beat M93 Get to the surface, Defeat the Shadelord saving humanity and the world, become the Hero of the World: Sonic, and then…

░▒▓██▓▒░ loves Sonic.

If he was Sonic,

then ░▒▓██▓▒░ would love him.

The thought...it wasn’t even a thought. The desire, the drive, was stronger than a conviction. It was carved on the keystone of his very being. To remove it would be to dismantle him. Which made it sooooo frustrating that he had no idea what it meant!

Whatever, that didn’t matter. Once he was the real Sonic, he’d understand. He just had to become Sonic first. No sweat, totally easy. Especially because Mr. Tinker was going to get Sage to let him touch down on the surface. Then he just had to find the Shadelord, kill him, and end the whole war….no biggy, totally doable in an afternoon.

Sage would appear soon to tell him he exceeded his allotted time. He didn’t care. Any chew-out was worth the extra moments of the wind in his quills. His legs ached to run. The cramped grey walls of the base were suffocating. Scout Units were made to cross great distances quickly. Confinement in close quarters was torture.

A flicker caught at the corner of vision caught his attention. That thread from earlier! Nearly invisible in the partial moonlight, the thin blue line simmered as it waved gently in the wind, leading away from S91. He reached out and found he could curl it around his finger. It made the sensors in his finger tingle and the thread glowed a bit brighter. Where was it going? Where was it coming from? He needed to know. His core pulsed faster.

He looked down, tracing the thread with his eyes. It splayed around the hard bar of his stabilizer and disappeared into his chest, right where his core was hidden.

Huh. That’s weird. That’s probably important. That doesn’t look like anything to me.

---

Tails slumped in his rolling chair. All the monitors attached to his console were occupied with reports from the field or charts of the latest round of his attempt to understand the Nascent Phantom Ruby’s powers. His eyes were lowered, however, looking at his phone as he scrolled through chat logs from years prior.

[Unknown #]: That fake emerald was a stroke of genius!

[ME]: thx

[Unknown #]: How did you do it? You already had an Emerald, so it had to be via Chemical Vapor Deposition, right?

[ME]: haha no can you imagine hyper heated methane gas around Sonic?

[ME]: just high-pressure high temperature environment with a graphite seed

[Unknown #]: I don’t believe you. There is no way you could have produced the energy needed and maintain that precise of an environment for as long as you’d need to. You’re lying.

[ME]: no im not

[Unknown #]: Prove it.

Tails sighed as he read through the detailed description of the process he’d used and the follow-up questions the unknown number had posited. Utilizing Sonic’s spin dash to generate both the electricity to power the hydraulic press and the heat, forging the mock Chaos Emerald had still been a stroke of luck.

[ME]: it wasnt cool trying to hold the world hostage with the eclipse cannon

[Unknown #]: How can you accuse me of trying to destroy the world? That was my grandfather’s doing! I had nothing to do with it. I hate talking to you when you’re acting so juvenile.

[Unknown #]: And I failed anyway, so you’re just trying to rub salt in my wounds? How vile. I don’t have to take this. Delete my number.

[ME]: wait, im sorry, i didnt mean it.

[Unknown #]: I’m so disappointed Tails. I expected better from you. Shadow died stopping the Biolizard from destroying the planet. How can you desecrate his memory like this?

[ME]: im sorry

With a wave of shame, Tails acutely remembered how good it felt to explain himself to someone who understood. All his friends called him a genius. But none of them knew what that actually meant, so what was their praise really worth? But the Doctor had proper perspective. His opinion had weight.

Then the Doctor took his faux Emerald production method and mass-produced compact chaos drives with triple the energy output, allowing for larger and more heavily armored badniks. When taunted with the new designs, Tails had retorted with how much pressure Sonic’s spin dash could exert and, like an idiot, provided his calculations. The praise for his work had been intoxicating. And the badniks got more robust.

But Tails hadn’t noticed, not for years. He’d been so young then.

[ME]: u just talk to me to get at sonic

[Unknown #]: What are you talking about? I don’t want to talk about Sonic at all. I want to talk about you and all your amazing inventions!

[ME]: really?

[Unknown #]: Of course! I’m a total fan of yours. You’re so smart, Miles. I can’t wait to see the break throughs you’ll make.

[ME]: you do?

[Unknown #]: Absolutely. Us geniuses must stick together, right?

[ME]: yeah!

It felt good. It felt wrong, but it felt nice too. The excitement of a secret, of being in on something. As Sonic would be away for longer and longer, talking to the Doctor became a frequent event. Alone in his workshop with nothing but his work, there wasn’t anyone else he could bounce ideas off of. None one to complain to. No one except for Ivo Robotnik.

[ME]: knuckles bent up the tornado’s wing again

[Unknown #]: Brutes are always wreaking things they don’t understand. Here, I have a galvanized steel composite that I’ve been working on.

[Unknown #]: I doubt you’ll be able to synthesize it up to my specifications, but even riddle with defects it should be plenty strong for that silly little plane of yours.

[ME]: thx

[ME]: you’re not that bad. i should tell my friends how helpful you can be.

[Unknown #]: Why don’t we keep this our little secret? No one else will understand. This is our thing.

[ME]: i guess

[Unknown #]: Besides, what would Sonic think?

[ME]: wut?

[Unknown #]: He’d be furious with you, wouldn’t he? Because he doesn’t understand you. He doesn’t trust your judgment.

[ME]: no he would hes my big brother and he loves me

[Unknown #]: Are you sure about that? Willing to bet on it? What are you going to do if you’re wrong?

[Unknown #]: Go ahead and show him our conversations. I’m sure he’ll be very understanding.

[ME]: no..thats okay. your right this is our thing

[Unknown #]: I knew you were a smart young man.

[Unknown #]: Now, about your wiring diagram for that little hand-held muti-meter knock off you sent me. Utter garbage! Let me show you how to fix it!

Tails grit his teeth. His dirty secret. The Miles Electric, his pride and joy, only worked initially thanks to help from the Doctor. It hadn’t all been one sided. It had been a partnership. That was the worst part, the truth that knifed through him with guilt. Tails had liked talking to the Doctor. Tossing ideas back and forth. Learning from the psychopath. Trying to show each other up.

Oh Gaia…like Sonic with Shadow.

[Unknown #]: Take a look at this! My cousin’s latest expedition unearthed these ancient scrolls. If I’m correct, and I always am, this might be a whole new source of energy to exploit! For science, of course.

[ME]: oh this is cool. Looks like the mythos Professor Pickle has been researching

[Unknown #]: Never heard of him.

[ME]: he’s a researcher at Spagonia University.

[ME]: hes super smart. really really likes cucumber sandwiches

[Unknown #]: You don’t say. Maybe I’ll invite him over for tea.

It finally clicked. For all his intelligence, Tails hadn’t connected the dots until recently. The Doctor had been using him, twisting him for information like he was wringing out a rag. He never cared, not once. How could Tails have been so completely oblivious?

He hadn’t told a soul. He didn’t fear the anger or the disappointment. He resented how it would reinforce the notion that they all held about him. He was a child. That’s what his friends would say, the excuses they would make for him. You were just a kid, buddy. You didn’t know any better. It always came back to that. Tails was just a kid for the rest of his life.

[Unknown #]: Take a look at this training algorithm. I know you’re rubbish at cluster analysis, but maybe your flailing can give me a fresh perspective.

[ME]: I can’t believe you’re trying to talk to me after what you’ve done.

[Unknown #]: That’s a really hostile tone. I try to bring you something I think you’ll be interested in and you bite my head off? Really disrespectful.

[ME]: I’m only going to say this once. Release Sonic.

[Unknown #]: No.

[ME]: Then there is nothing for us to talk about ever again.

[Unknown #]: That’s a shame, Prower. We have done such great things together. Are you sure you want to throw all this away?

[ME]: I know what you are trying to do. You’re sick.

[Unknown #]: Without me, you will be all alone. Who understands you like I do? Your pathetic friends? Not only does the summation of their IQs fail to rival yours, but they’ll also never see you as anything other than a child.

[ME]: You’re wrong.

[Unknown #]: Mark my words, fox. There will come a time when you will realize how easier things would be if they would just listen to you. You’ll watch them muck up everything you’ve worked to build and you will hate it. Your resentment will fester and before you know it, you’ll be all alone.

[Unknown #]: Just

[Unknown #]: Like

[ME]: Shut Up!

[Unknown #]: Me

[ME]: I’ll never be like you!

[Unknown #]: We shall see, won’t we?

It made him sick, reading through all the messages. His stomach clenched. How much death and destruction had Dr. Robotnik wrought as a direct result of Tails’ interactions with him? Modern badniks were monsters compared to the old Buzz Bombers and Pillbugs.

He kept the messages because Tails needed the reminder: TO NEVER TRUST THE DOCTOR EVER AGAIN. He had received another message from a new unknown number just about a year ago.

[Unknown #]: Hello Miles. My name is Sage. I would like to speak with you regarding the ongoing activities of my Father, Dr. Ivo Robotnik. I believe there is a mutually beneficial future that you and I can construct together. I look forward to our fruitful partnership.

Tails had never replied. The messages continued.

[Unknown #]: Hello Miles. I am sorry about your brother. I can help you find him. Please talk to me.

[Unknown #]: Please let me help you.

[Unknown #]: Infinite is dead. My priorities have shifted. Please talk to me, Miles. I need your help.

[Unknown #]: I must neutralize Shadow. Please work with me to create a definition of this goal that is mutually beneficial.

[Unknown #]: Please talk to me, Miles. I know we can work together. I have initiated a series of events that we will both come to regret. This did not have to happen.

[Unknown #]: Please, Miles. I need to talk to you.

[Unknown #]: I’m sorry that it has come to this. I am still willing to talk to you.

[Unknown #]: I’m sorry, Miles. I promise he won’t die. I will keep him safe.

[Unknown #]: I don’t blame you. I hope whatever you are constructing below your workshop can stop me.

Drops of water splattered against the glowing phone screen, distorting the words depicted. Tails was so tired.

Gaslight, gatekeep, girlboss

Groom, guilt trip, guyboss

I like AUs so much I put an AU in my AU.