Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Fiona took a deep, shuddering breath to hide a shiver.

Moebius' air wasn't cold right now, just unsettling.

The ominous similarities and differences that it shared with Mobius, her home world, made coming here quite a nauseating experience. Every time.

‘That's not even mentioning the difference of Chaos and Anarchy have and their possible effects.’

Her knowledge on the indomitable energy that was the cause of both life and death in her own world was limited as it is, a whole other reality?

The fox sighed as she ran a hand through her hair. Dismissing that train of thought, for now.

“Ah home, shitty home.” A throaty voice exclaimed, rather loudly, drawing Fiona’s attention.

A gentle smile wormed itself to her face as she looked to the source of it.

Her eyes fixated upon the green furred hedgehog standing a few meters away from his crew, who was admiring the familiar forests and mountain's like a hungry predator. A raw defiance etched into his every fiber, a freedom carved out of rebellion and chaos.

‘So much like Sonic, yet so different.’ She couldn’t help the comparison.

She also could not help but be drawn to the hauntingly beautiful gait he had. The fierce glint in the eyes, the scars of the past battles worn like medals and that unwavering aura, shouting his untamable nature to the world.

A strange contrast to her own.

She always had to be careful. Always mindful. Always calculate the risks then strike.

It left her feeling wanting. Making the freedom she carved out with her tears, sweat and blood feel like a passing breeze compared to his unrelenting tornado.

But that was an unfair comparison. Scourge was an Adept, from a whole other reality no less. His freedom was not the gentle, sunlit liberation of a peaceful dawn, like the one's the princess was chasing, it was the raw, brutal essence of survival in a world that cared little for soft souls, the reality she grew up in.

“Gotta say, was expecting you to take us somewhere to stay low. Not straight back here.” Scourge broke the vixen out of her thoughts as he made his way to her. “Given how much you like playing it safe and all.”

It took a solid moment to regain her composure before answering.

“There's a reason it took us so long to get you out. We needed to make sure the Zone Cops are too busy chasing their own tails so they wouldn't come for ours.” Her expression returned to relaxed, a satisfied smile followed. “Consider this a homecoming gift of some kind.”

Scourge matched her with a toothy smile of his own as he leaned closer with his hands in his jackets pockets. “Well aren't you quite the expert on making a guy fall hard. Is that how you got these guys together?” He inclined his head towards their small gang who were standing not so far away.

If it were any other girl, they would've flipped and tore into him for the joke, but Fiona is not any kind of girl.

She brushed it off with a scoff as she motioned for their crew to join them. “It's also where our employer needs us to get something done for him.”

Fiona did not like Finitevus nor his *World Bending* schemes, they reminded too much of Eggman and his ideal image of a world made of machines. An image that started the war that robbed her of her childhood, her family, her life.

She shook her head at the dismal thoughts.

‘If we were a real family; I wouldn’t be so easily abandoned.’

She didn’t like how often these thoughts kept creeping up on her.

Especially at her moment of victory.

Fiona managed to gather a capable team and break out her boyfriend out of a multidimensional prison with not even a scrap to her name. She got them this far, she can do more, much more. Finitevus is just a necessary evil in a long list, nothing new.

‘The guy even swore on his ancestors that his next project won’t involve some doomsday nonsense. That’s gotta count for something, for an echidna at least.’

She was brought down before. And she made it back up all on her own.

Nothing can, and nothing will, bring her down, ever again.

“Too bad. This gang got a change in plans.”

Well except that.

Fiona looked incredulously at her boyfriend, now leaning on a tree with crossed hands and a toothy grin. A look that promised a headache inducing debate.

“Scourge.” She addressed him with as much levity as she could. “Finitevus is not the type of guy you jerk around, you know that.”

“You let me worry about Dr. spooky von evil.” The hedgehog drawled smugly as he pushed up his sunglasses. “Right now, you’re my gang so you follow my plans. And believe me, I got big plans for both this world and Sonic’s.”

His toothy grin, drenched in arrogance, made him look more devil than hedgehog. But Fiona knew better. Scourge might be the polar opposite of Sonic’s personality, but is still quite similar in mannerism. He thinks on his feet, fast and unrelenting. Great for fighting or escalated situations but not for long term plans. The last time Scourge planned something he ended up backstabbed by his entire team and thrown into No-Zone prison.

‘Zonic is the most by the book and rule abiding Sonic I met and yet even he doesn’t do well in planning department.’

She couldn’t tell that to his face though. His ego is too fragile for psyche analyses.

And she certainly couldn’t argue with him about this with an audience.

“Zuma, Pred, scout to the north and south. Give us an idea of the area.” The two grim faced Destructix took the dismissal with respective nods and took off.

Simian gave the fox a raised eyebrow and she met it with a hard stare. It took less than a second for the message to get across and the veteran sighed heavily before sitting down on a fallen thick log.

“Don’t take too long.” He said grimly, side-eyeing Flipping who was using his tongue as a sling on a tree branch to sway back and forth.

Fiona sighed as she walked past a disgruntled Scourge. Knowing how much it irked him to be ignored, even for a second, she steeled herself for the tantrum that is to come.

“Fi what the hell?” They weren't as far away as she wanted to be when her boyfriend grabbed her arm and started the argument. “What are you doing, scattering everyone? And what's with you and Simian?”

The fox had to fight really hard to not pinch the bridge of nose.

“We need some privacy.”

It made Scourge's eyebrows disappear behind his sunglasses.

“Really? Now?” He asked with a stupid half-smile, clearly taking her words the wrong way.

“Not that!” Fiona hissed as she wretched her arm out his grip and made her way deeper into the woods, Scourge following her with a confused frown.

After making an acceptable amount of distance from their ape and amphibian teammate, Fiona turned to Scourge.

“We need to talk.”

“About?”

“Your plans.”

And now Scourge looked annoyed, not good.

“And why the others shouldn't hear this?”

“Because we can't have them see us arguing.” Fiona rebutted, matching glares with her partner. “Especially now that the team is only getting a taste of you being boss.”

“Arguing?” He looked absolutely baffled at the notion. As if it were against the laws of nature. “What is there to argue about?”

“Scourge.” The fox said his name in a manner that she knew it would get his attention. “Yesterday you were begging me to leave you in that prison to rot. Now you're telling me that in less than 24 hours you cooked up plans of conquest and revenge on two different dimensions?”

Unbelievable would not even begin to cover it. It was downright ridiculous.

Yet the logic flew right by his head, evident by the smirk that crept back into his face.

“What can I say babe.” He shrugged. “I’m not only fast on my feet. You should know.”

The urge to make him swallow all the chipped razors he called teeth with a single sharp kick have never been stronger. But one does not make it long dating the speed demon of two different dimensions with giving into impulses. So Fiona took a deep breath, slowly approached Scourge, righted his jackets collar and tried again.

“And does your girlfriend get to become privy to these plans?” She asked in a low voice while slowly batting her eyelashes at him, her tail swaying from side to side.

It did get his attention for about a moment; he licked his lips, his eyes lingered on her form and his hands itched to grab into her.

But somehow his resolve won over and his hands went for hers instead, his smirk turning into a lopsided grin.

“Oh she will.” His icy blue eyes met Fiona’s sky blue as the warmth of his slightly larger hands encompassed hers, their muzzles only inches apart. “When the time comes.”

The fox squeezed back at his hands as she took another step and whispered. “And when is that?”

“Trust me babe.” Scourge drawled, the warmth of his breaths hitting her muzzle. “It’s gonna way past anything you could imagine.”

When he closed his eyes and came to close their distance, Fiona sighed and pushed him back. Completely done with him and his nonsense.

“The last time I trusted your plans without question I ended up with my boyfriend imprisoned.” She huffed with her hands crossed and her posture tense.

“Oh where’d you get off?” Scourge threw his hands up in frustration. “I conquered this entire shithole! Twice! By my own! You think you can do better than that?”

“No.” Fiona’s blunt answer made him stop-dead in his tantrum. “But I do have a few solid ideas on making sure to keep the things we take for more than a week. One of them is to get squared with the multiversal mad man that helped us bust you out.”

She shouldn’t have said it. Especially with this tone. Especially now.

She had spent too much time with people whose deal is cut and clean, no need for mental gymnastics (well except Flipping) She forgot how particular Scourge’s can of worms was. The guy just couldn’t except that he has any flaws or someone is better at something than him, it just didn’t register in his worldview. Another difference to Sonic; the blue blur had a childish attitude yet was a somewhat strange maturity to him. Scourge on the other hand; he was cool and zero shits given in the outside but obsessive and insecure on the inside.

‘Happens when your dad barely acknowledges your existence in childhood.’

So talking to him is like trying to dance in a minefield.

“For the love of…” Scourge growled as he violently scratched at his quills, green surges of electricity running across his form. “This whole thing’s about Finitevus? Really? Since when you became the president of his fan club?”

Fiona took a moment to criticize his tense posture and demanding tone. Realizing the need for changing tactics.

“If I had it my way I would’ve stayed as far away as I could from him.” She answered him with an even tone. “But the No-Zone is not like any other dimension. No one can go there with just any simple portal or Warp Ring.”

She uncrossed her arms and slowly approached him with a gentle expression, minding each word.

“So I got desperate trying to get you out and made a deal with a devil. But I’m not gonna regret a decision that brought us back together.” Fiona spoke each word with all the compassion she could muster up at face of an angry Sonic.

And it worked, to a degree.

The influx of power stopped dancing across the Hedgehog’s form but his face was still grim.

“What kind of a deal?” He snarled.

At least she still had his attention.

Fiona sighed.

“A simple retrieval in exchange of a Warp Ring that can access No-Zone.”

“Simple?” Scourge asked with a raised eyebrow. “Simple for us but not for the ring fucker that got you all shivering in your fine boots?”

“A team provides both numbers and different expertise.” Fiona rebutted quickly. “Finitevus is smart and powerful but two set of eyes and hands is always better than one, especially if the extra set is a professional. That is something that echidna needs for his project.”

“And just what the hell is that project? Another Enerjak?” He growled again, looking very much done with this whole debate. “Yeah sorry but not sorry, cause my plans don’t involve *end of the world* types of shit.”

At the mention of his plans an idea struck the vixen.

“What if he helped you with them?” She asked suavely, her tail swaying behind her. “Whatever your plans are could certainly go smoother if we had help from someone who can effortlessly hop Zones and manipulate Chaos.”

It was a bad idea, but keeping Scourge’s compliance made such ideas a necessity more than often.

The speedster frowned as he stared at a random tree, deep in thought.

After a few seconds of pregnant pause, he sighed. “You sound like you actually trust the guy.” He muttered under his breath, his eyes turning to her.

Fiona smiled.

She had him.

“I don’t.” She said, voice sharp as she walked up to him. “But I do trust you…” she placed a hand on his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heart under the scarred fur. “…to help me deal with him if the need arises.”

Scourge’s frown got softened but was still there. His fingers were twitching, like he was itching to run, or to spin dash into something, Fiona could never tell.

The vixen got close enough to whisper in his ear. “Look babe, I get it. I really do. You just got out. You wanna remind everyone here, who thought you are gone for good, who’s boss. But it would it really ruin the fun if we played it just a bit safe?”

After that, silence took over. The surrounding forest giving into a rather loud stillness. Scourge’s expression flickered between irritation and consideration, making Fiona cross her fingers and hope for the best.

“Fine.” He sighed as he took her hand into his. “You can be a real pain in the ass y’know that?”

She scoffed. “Isn’t that why you love me?”

“That and other things.” He rasped before diving in for a kiss.

Fiona sighed as she savored the warmth and taste of the moment, holding his head in her hands as he held her waist in his.

The moment Scourge’s hand started going lower she pulled apart.

“Not here.” She forced out a breath as his growl reached her ears.

“Alright.” Scourge took a deep breath to calm himself as he right his jacket. “Let’s go back before the guys get any ideas.”

Fiona simply shook her head as she walked back to the clearing beside him.

Predator and Inazuma were back and Simian looked only seconds away from snapping at Flipping (who was continuously poking at his massive arm)

“Alright gang listen up.” Scourge drew their attention as they reappeared from the woods. “Got a slight change of plans. I decided that it's best we keep Finitevus on our good side. So consider this job as a warm up for the real hell we're about to raise later.”

The Destructix's acknowledgement was silent but strict.

“Where to now?” Simian’s voice rumbled as he pushed himself to his feet.

“Ivo Kintobor’s hospital.” Fiona answered.

“What?” Scourge looked at her as if she grew an extra head. “All this was for breaking into that twig man’s hole?”

“That *twig man’s hole* has the best security measure in this land as of moment.” Fiona rebutted calmly. “Which is powered up by an Anarchy Beryl.”

That shut him up.

The team made their way towards the southern east of the forest, where Inazuma spotted a tall building, resembling a hospital, in the middle of nowhere.

“What the hell the doc could possibly have that the mummified frankenstein would want?” Scourge asked with annoyance seeping through his teeth.

Fiona smirked. “How good is your history?”

The blank look her boyfriend gave her nearly made the fox scoff.

She huffed instead. 'He is a Sonic, despite the differences, simply sitting and reading something, anything, is still asking for too much.'

“Apparently Dr. Kintobor's grandad, Gerald, wasn't half the saint he is. And Finitevus has it on good source that some of his old skeletons in the closet are now collecting dust under Ivo's hospital.”

“And he wants them.”

“No. Just one of them, something called Project Light.” Fiona remarked as they reached the end of the woods, finding a clearing occupied by something akin to a fortress.

Scourge whistled. “Wow, the doc’s been busy.” 

‘That would be an apt way to put it.’

Dr. Kintobor’s hospital complex stood in front of them like a monument to a bygone era. Its towering structure once a beacon of hope, now a fortress of unintended consequence. The main hospital tower, a relic of an older world, loomed over the surrounding structures, its architecture a blend of old-world charm and repurposed functionality. The once-pristine white walls are now dulled by time and reinforced with steel plating, a precaution against the chaos that thrives beyond its perimeter.

Encircling the hospital was a handful of newer, boxier buildings (medical annexes, research labs or housing perhaps) their smooth, sterile surfaces clashing against the aged facade of the original tower. A thin but well-made concrete wall, lined with electrified fencing, surrounded the entire complex, its surface pockmarked with repairs from past skirmishes. With only two guard towers at entrance.

Simian handed Fiona a set of binoculars from his duffle bag. She brought them to her eyes and surveyed the complex once before finding her target; a tall, cylindrical construct, built from gunmetal plating with glowing veins of deep bluish violet light pulsing beneath its surface, betraying the sheer power coursing through its core. Thick cooling pipes coiled around its base like steel serpents, releasing intermittent bursts of superheated steam into the air. At its center, a rotating gyroscopic ring moving in slow, deliberate circles, crackling with static discharge as it keeps modulating an energy field across the entire complex. Multiple antennae and spires jutting from the top, each tipped with a flickering arc of purple lightning, maintaining and extending the force field’s perimeter.

“Look up there.” She handed the binoculars to Scourge.

The hedgehog peered through them and his flabbergasted expression nearly made her laugh.

“I bet you sensed it before we even got close.” Her teasing went ignored as Scourge lowered the binoculars, his expression hardened.

“What is that thing?”

“It’s a force field generator powered by an Anarchy Beryl.” She answered, her tail flickering in agitation. “Designed to keep any Adept or machinery out.”

Though the powerful gem itself remained hidden, its influence was unmistakable. The air around the machine seemed to warp, thick and heavy, thrumming with chaotic energy that made even the most reckless Mobian hesitate. Whatever lay at its heart was no ordinary power source. It was something alive, waiting.

Scourge huffed in annoyance, giving back the binoculars.

“You sure I can’t just ram through it?”

Fiona gave the hedgehog a flat look, arms crossed as her tail flickered in agitation. “You know what? Go right ahead.” She said dryly, pointing at the force field. “Dash at a concentrated energy field designed specifically to keep your kind out at full speed. Let's see how that works out for you.”

The hedgehog bared his teeth in a savage grin. “Could be fun.”

“Could kill you.” Fiona shot back, then smirked. “Or worse, knock the cool out of you.”

Simian nearly let out a snort but controlled it, Predator chuckled quietly from the branch he was perched on as Flipping cackled madly, rolling on the ground, all while Inazuma stood motionless to the side. Scourge just rolled his eyes as he stuffed his hands into his pockets. “Fine, fine. You got a plan then?”

Fiona's smirk turned sharper as she booped his nose. “Did you even need to ask?”

She glanced back toward the complex, her expression turning serious as she scrutinized the situation, before tossing the binoculars back to Simian.

“Alright, boys. Listen up.” She said, her tone hardening. The Destructix circled around her, instinctively falling into formation.

Fiona spared one last look to the hospital turned fortress. A place of healing about to be turned into a battleground. She almost felt something sour, something similar to the feeling she had when she parted ways with the Freedom Fighters. The fox shook her head as she tried to regain her focus. “Here’s how we’re playing this.”

Chapter Text

Inazuma sucked in another breath as he walked towards the gates of the hospital complex.

Loud noises came from the two towers next to it, signaling he was already spotted.

The lynx bit down a groan at the resurgence of the pain on his shoulder. He tightened his grip on his limp arm, keeping it still, keeping the act together.

As the iron gates groaned and guards stepped out, he took a deep breath to mentally prepare himself.

He shouldn't be here. This is not his expertise. But Fiona made valid points. Both her and her hedgehog were well-known in this world, Flipping was too wild, Simian too intimidating and they needed Predator to be their eyes in the sky. So it left him to play the Trojan horse.

An unarmed and wounded one at that.

He argued, extensively, against it. He wasn't an actor.

‘Then don't say anything so they'll think you're mime.’ Was the insufferable vixens counter. Her all-knowing smirk still grating on his nerves.

‘She wasn’t smirking when we were practicing her guard.’ He suppressed his smirk at the memory, fully intending on making the fox eat twice the dirt the next time they spar.

The lynx shook these thoughts out of his head as three mobians, clad in airsoft brown vests, approached him. Two of them were carrying SMG’s and searching around for anyone else while the middle one, a short quokka with brick colored fur, rested his hand on his pistol holster while eyeing Zuma critically.

“Hello there, you alright?”

Zuma swallowed as he pointed to his left arm.

The quokka frowned at the dangling limb.

“That looks painful. How did it happen?”

The lynx pointed with his hand to the hill nearby and mimicked someone walking and then falling with his fingers. The whole time the three guards stared dumbly at his performance, making him sweat.

“Can't you talk?” The stoat in the right asked with a raised eyebrow.

Inazuma gave a pitiful groan as he shook his head, humiliation making the spit in his mouth taste bitter.

The quokka guard’s eyes hardened as asked. “Are you alone?” And the lynx nodded with a blank expression.

The guards exchanged a series of unreadable looks, having a conversation without the use of words.

Zuma swallowed hard.

‘They didn't buy it?’

“Berry? Is everything alright?” A gentle voice drew their attention to the tall, lanky human the guards. Zuma blinked as a carbon copy of Eggman (albeit slimmer) walked towards them.

“Doctor!” The quokka whirled around as he growled. “What are you doing out here?”

“I heard there's someone wounded out of our gates; thought I should check.” The man answered timidly as his gaze landed on Inazuma.

“Well he is wounded.” The meerkat to the left grunted, clutching his gun. “But we haven't made sure if...”

“Oh heavens!”

The doctor rushed past the guards, completely ignoring their shouts of concern, and knelt in front of Zuma.

“It looks like you've been through the ringer.” The human observed the dirt covered and wounded lynx before reaching a hand out. “May I?”

Zuma took his right hand off his left shoulder and let the doctor do his thing.

Kintobor’s hands were gentle, practiced, but even the lightest touch sent a bolt of fire up Zuma’s arm. He bit down on his tongue, hard, forcing himself to exhale through his nose. He wasn’t supposed to show pain. A real mute would struggle to vocalize, not wince and growl like some cornered animal.

Dr. Kintobor hummed in thought, carefully rotating Zuma’s arm just enough to test the extent of the damage.

“Dislocated” he diagnosed softly, more to himself than to anyone else. “And judging by the swelling...It's been out of place for at least an hour.”

Berry, the quokka, took his hand off his gun holster and shifted on his feet. Anxious. It was obvious he was suspicious of Zuma, but of what? Remains to be seen. For now, the doctor’s presence seemed to have broken the guard’s professionalism.

‘That's good enough.’

The stoat took a deep breath before stepping forward. “Doc, maybe we should...”

“I need to pop this back in.” Kintobor cut the her off, voice firm but still carrying that odd, disarming kindness. “We need to get him inside. If we leave it like this much longer, the tissue damage could worsen.”

Zuma stayed still, keeping his face unreadable, even as his heart hammered. The plan was working, so far.

The stoat huffed and the meerkat scrunched up his nose as they both turned to Berry. The three exchanged a look before the two SMG holders finally relaxed, but Berry's gaze lingered on Kintobor as the doctor put a hand on Zuma’s good shoulder and led him towards the gates.

The lynx stole a glance at the quokka, noticing his twitching hand near his pistol. But he lingered too long. Forest green narrowed at stormy blue, and he quickly look away.

He kept his gaze down as they walked past the gates, the fairly new buildings blurring the edges of his vision. The air inside the force field that encompassed the complex felt no different than its outside, beside the lingering odor of machinery oil and rusted metal dancing with the fresh waves of flower fragrance coming from a nearby garden. His ears twitched at the distant sounds of tools clanking, metals scrapping against each other, drones zipping about, people’s murmurs drifting in the wind and the iron gates behind him creaking shut. The lynx shook his head as he ignored it and kept his pace steady.

Only when they entered the main building did he look up. Inside the tower the atmosphere shifted. The air felt cooler with the sharp clinical scent of antiseptic, a heavy contrast to the warm wilderness of the outside. The sound of Zuma and Kintobor’s footsteps on the ceramic tiles melded with the soft thuds of others moving about, clicking of equipment, muffled voices and occasional coughing as they made their way past the front desk, without any receptionist on sight. They continued through a cluttered hallway with flickering lights casting strange shadows on discarded equipment and the cracked, yellowed walls. Above them, rusted and new pipes ran alongside one another, twisting through the space in an odd, chaotic dance, contributing to the places haphazard, almost forgotten feeling. They turned down a corridor and walked past a makeshift workstation of some kind, when Zuma’s eyes caught the sight of a map on the wall.

‘A facility map?’ His eyes shot to the colorful piece of paper and let out a relieved sigh as they walked past it. The map was colorful and it didn’t look old. ‘So it was printed after the renovations.’ He made a mental note of its location as he matched paces with the doctor, who let him deeper into the labyrinth of ceramic tiled corridors, filled with locked metal doors and hodgepodge of equipment’s and parts.

They finally stopped in front of a room and Kintobor ushered the lynx inside. There was a bed, a metal drawer, two chairs in a kit, a med kit and stethoscope on a metal table near the bed. All looking as worn as the peeling blue wallpaper on the walls. Every surface, though scrubbed clean, held the history of a place that is trying to forget what it once was. The faint hum of outdated machinery that seemed to come from everywhere yet nowhere added an eerie undertone to this peaceful place.

‘It feels more like an archive than a place of healing.’ The lynx mused as he sat on the bed.

Kintobor knelt in front of him and gave him a gentle smile.

“Can you sit uptight?”

Zuma sucked in a breath as he did, ready for the pain.

“Oho, no that’s not necessary. Let go of your breath please.”

The lynx raised an eyebrow at him.

“Just keep a good posture and we can go from there, okay?” The doctor gave him a disarming smile as he laid a hand on his uninjured shoulder.

Zuma felt something twist in his stomach. This situation was unorthodox as it is but to see someone with the exact looks and voice of the dangerous Dr. Eggman sitting in front of him, being kind and patient while trying to treat his injuries?

‘Spending less than a week in a prison filled with completely different versions of the people you know is not enough to make you get used to the multiverses nonsense.’ These thoughts ran rampart in his head as he nodded.

“Good, now I’m going to move your arm to your lap. Is that fine?”

His answer was all but a nod.

“Let me know if you feel any discomfort.” And with that the doctor took hold of the dislocated arm and slowly brought it closer to the lynx’s body.

Zuma’s teeth gritted against each other as Kintobor gently shifted the dislocated appendage. Every motion sent a fresh wave of fire through his shoulder, radiating up into his neck. His breath came in controlled, measured exhales, but the tension coiling through his body refused to release. He had dealt with pain before, broken ribs, bruised knuckles, deep and shallow cuts. This one would pass, just like the rest.

‘Just soldier through it.’

Kintobor’s touch was steady, deliberate. He wasn’t yanking or forcing the limb back into place like Zuma had expected. Instead, the doctor guided his arm with an almost unnatural patience, allowing it to settle against his lap.

“Now, just focus on breathing,” Kintobor reassured, his tone warm but measured, as if trying to keep the lynx grounded. “and relax your shoulders.”

Zuma barely held back a scoff. ‘Relax?’ His body was already wound tight from the act he was putting on, and now he had to loosen up? Still, he nodded, jaw clenched. Thankfully, Kintobor didn’t seem bothered by the lack of verbal confirmation.

After a short series of deep breaths Zuma winced as the doctor’s right hand started messaging his shoulder. His fingers pressed into the tight muscles around the joint, kneading in slow, purposeful circles, as if coaxing his body into compliance rather than demanding it. 

“Now I need to put your hand on my shoulder...”

Zuma cut him off with an affirmative hum.

Kintobor’s calm demeanor didn’t falter. He moved the lower arm and put Zuma’s hand on his own shoulder with so much with so much care that the lynx barely felt anything.

When Kintobor put his left hand on the elbow, Zuma clenched his jaw. His instincts screamed at him to be on guard, to brace for the inevitable snap of pain that always came with injury treatment. But that moment never arrived. The sharp agony dulled under the persistent, methodical pressure of Kintobor’s hands. His thumbs pressed into specific points near Zuma’s upper arm and shoulder, massaging the muscles in slow, rhythmic circles. The pressure wasn’t painful, but it sent strange, tingling sensations through the joint, like the tension was being slowly unwound. 

“This part is important,” Kintobor continued in that same patient tone. “Keep breathing and remain calm and relaxed. Don't let tension creep up on you.”

Zuma swallowed. It was an odd request. His body wanted to fight, to resist, but Kintobor’s hands never forced him into submission. Instead, the slow, careful movements allowed his own muscles to fatigue on their own, letting the weight of his arm do most of the work. He exhaled slowly and steadily, forcing himself to loosen his stiff posture as much as possible. Kintobor’s fingers lightly pressed into the muscles of his upper arm, kneading in small circles. The motion was almost soothing, coaxing the tension to ebb away.

“Good, that’s it,” The doctor encouraged. “Now, I’m going to let gravity do the work. Keep breathing.”

Minutes passed, as the lynx sat there and let the doctors finger work their magic. The discomfort gradually ebbing into something manageable. The relaxing sensation caused him to barely notice the moment it happened. When the joint slid back into place with a subtle, muffled pop. There was no sharp agony, no blinding pain. Just a strange, deep throb, followed by a sense of...relief.

He let go of his breath as Kintobor finally released his arm and stared down at his arm.

“There we go,” The doctor smiled, somehow even brighter than before. He gave the lynx’s shoulder a final, reassuring pat before pulling back. “Much better, isn’t it?”

Zuma didn’t answer. His mind was still catching up, expecting pain that hadn’t come. He rolled his left shoulder and arm experimentally. It still hurt. But it was different now. The burning edge was gone, replaced by something duller, something bearable.

His stormy eyes traced the doctor who has moved to the metal drawer in the corner and started rummaging inside.

Inazuma was no stranger to gentleness but it wasn’t something he often encountered. The amount of times he felt such care from someone after leaving the comfort of his home and his mother’s embrace could be counted on one hand. The healers of the Raiju clan were mostly strict and rarely gentle, so the clan’s warriors would be encouraged to become stronger. The No-Zone prison’s medical staff only poked, prodded, scanned and injected him with somethings (Fiona assured him it was only an interdimensional vaccine, so if anything the No-Zone prison did them a favor) with robot like detachment. Fiona was his only other experience with a medical expert and even she fell off short compared to Kintobor. The vixen’s methods were very on hand and survival driven. When she dislocated his arm her attempts at trying to make it as painless as possible were simply for making sure there wouldn’t be any retribution.

Yet the human doctor who was putting his previously dislocated arm in a sling was being unnecessarily patient and gentle with an adult mobian.

‘And not just any doctor, Robotnik! From another dimension.’

“And there we go.” The man in question remarked as he tightened the sling around the lynx’s neck. “It should be all better after two days. That is of course, if you take it easy.”

Zuma nodded stiffly.

“It’s a bit of a busy day so I might not be able to visit. But I’ll make sure to drop by tomorrow.” Kintobor said with an apologetic tone as he grabbed the notepad on the foot of the bed and wrote something. “It’s nearly evening but I’ll have the kitchen bring something to help get you back on your feet.”

He put the notepad back and gave the lynx another gentle smile before moving to the door.

“Try to relax. If nothing else, you can take a stroll in the garden tomorrow. It’ll lift your spirit.”

And with that Kintobor was gone.

Inazuma took a deep breath as he ran a hand on face.

He reached down into his right shoe, took out the tiny plastic memory stick and made sure it wasn’t damaged before slipping it back in.

He got from the bed and rubbed at his left shoulder as he made his way to the window.

The view outside of it was of the front of the tower and it didn’t reveal anything he haven’t seen by now. And that annoyed him.

He couldn’t spot Buns’ mech suit or the robot that Kintobor design specifically for Scourge.

‘No matter, it’s Scourge’s problem anyway.’

His sightseeing came to an abrupt end when his ears twitched with the sound of footsteps getting near his room.

The lynx laid down on the bed, deciding it’s best to play the tired patient as long as he can to not raise any suspicion.

A sharp knock came from the door but Zuma didn’t answer. Instead he mimicked the knocking on the wood of the nightstand.

The door creaked open and Berry stepped inside, a notepad and pen in hand. His facial expression was neutral to the point of looking artificial. Zuma’s eyes flicked down, noting the empty holster at the quokka’s belt.

“Hope I’m not disturbing your rest.” The guard said with a light tone that carried a certain edge to it.

Zuma merely shook his head, but didn’t believe a word of it. 

Berry moved further in, grabbed the metal chair next to the window, and dragged it across the floor. A sigh followed the scrap of metal on ceramic as the chair was placed next to the bed. The quokka sat down heavily, posture deceptively relaxed as he locked eyes with the lynx. Forest green met stormy blue again as the two mobians sized each other up.

“I know this might seem a bit forward, even unsavory.” He gestured vaguely as he drawled, his eyes never leaving Zuma’s. “But considering how...unstable things are nowadays, I’m sure you’d understand why some extra precautions are necessary.”

Zuma blinked slowly, waiting for him to get to the point.

“Whenever a patient shows up, we ask a few questions. Just to make sure there won’t be any trouble.” The quokka raised his hands in mock surrender, but his fingers curled slightly, betraying the tension beneath his easy demeanor. “Now, before you get all defensive, let me be clear that I’m not accusing you of anything.”

“By now, it’s just a formality,” he continued, tilting his head slightly as if studying Zuma’s reaction. “Helps the hardworking nurses and doctors here sleep a little easier.” A pause. Then, with a small, knowing smile followed. “Would that be too much to ask?”

Zuma wanted to tell him to piss off.

All of this song and dance and having to stay quiet all the time is really grating on his nerves.

But he kept his composure, let out a slow breath and shook his head, his expression carefully resigned. Then, he raised a hand to his throat and made a rough, rasping sound, like air being sucked through a hollow pipe. 

Berry’s face barely flickered but there was a tightness around his mouth. 

“I noticed.” The quokka muttered, flipping open the notepad and holding it out along with the pen. “So I came prepared.” 

Zuma’s eyes lingered on the stationery for a second longer before snatching them, his claws lightly scraping against the plastic.

Berry blinked, thrice.

The air between them hung heavy for just a moment longer before the quokka leaned back, and cleared his throat. "Let’s start with an introduction, hmm?" He remarked, his lips pulling into something that wasn't quite a smile. “I'm Berry, from Rock Ridge. You?”

Zuma fumbled with the pen a little, wracking his brain for what little it recalled of Fiona’s cover story before scribbling on the pad and showing it to the quokka.

Lightning, from Fuzzville

Berry raised an eyebrow. "That’s quite the distance." 

Zuma huffed through his nose and wrote quickly.

I like traveling in the woods

"In times of war?" Berry’s voice had a new edge to it, the casual act beginning to fray at the seams.

Zuma’s eyes didn’t leave his as he wrote down his answer.

Scourge is gone

The quokka sighed, rubbing a hand over his face like he’s tired of hearing that. “That doesn’t mean it’s safe to just roam around the countryside.”

Zuma stopped his fingers from making the pen tap on the paper as he searched for an answer until his eyes lit up as he recalled the significance of the green hedgehog in this world.

He flipped to a blank page and instantly scribbled.

Been doing it since before Scourge was king

Berry gave a slow, small nod. His expression unreadable, but his eyes never left Zuma’s.

“All on your own?”

Zuma nodded. 

Berry’s gaze flickered toward the lynx’s injured arm. “How did that happen?”

Lost my footing. Fell down a hill

The quokka let out a short huff, his nose twitching in mild irritation. Zuma couldn’t tell at what. 

“So,” Berry husked as he leaned towards him, voice tethering between mocking and outright demanding. “Traveling alone in the wild with no equipment. When the kingdom’s chain of command is rattling every day. That’s a hobby now?”

Zuma paused for a beat, realizing just how much heat was buried beneath those words.

I had a backpack, He finally wrote. Couldn’t find it after waking up

Berry’s jaw tensed. Zuma wouldn’t notice it if he wasn’t locking eyes with the guard.

“Convenient.”

The quokka’s mouth barely moved and the word wasn’t outright accusatory, but it wasn’t friendly either.

Zuma kept his expression neutral, but inside, something twisted. He flipped another page and wrote: Is that all?

Berry’s gaze flicked from the fresh words on the notepad to Zuma’s face, his expression still unreadable. The tension between them thickened like a storm cloud, heavy and waiting to break.

The quokka exhaled sharply through his nose, interlocking his fingers as they started twitching. “What's the rush? We barely got to know each other.”

Zuma held his stare for as he wrote on the page in slow, deliberate strokes of the pen and then shoving the notepad into the quokka’s face.

The guard frowned and leaned back a he read what was written.

I’m in a rush to rest.

Berry huffed out a short laugh, though there was no humor in it. “Right. Wouldn’t want to keep you from that, then.”

He took the pen and notepad from Zuma and got up from his chair. His eyes still locked into the lynx’s. His jaw still tight and his form still alert despite the neutral expression.

“Alright,” Berry said, tucking the notepad under his arm. “Get some rest, Lightning. See you tomorrow.”

He gave Zuma one last once-over before turning away and making his way toward the door.

Zuma waited until it clicked shut behind him before exhaling, shoulders sinking just a fraction.

The cover story had held.

For now.

And that is all he needed.

He spared a glance at the clock on the wall in front of him, reading 4:51, and fully laid down on the bed. Letting his tense muscles ease up on the soft, feathery material.

‘It's going to be a long night.’

Inazuma’s eyes flickered open, sharp and alert, to a dark room, slightly illuminated by small rays of the moonlight. His internal clock rarely failed him, but a quick glance at the actual one in the room confirmed the time.

11:36

‘It’s time.’

The lynx sighed as he rubbed the sleep away from his eyes. He pushed himself upright and slipped off the sling, letting it fall on the bed. His hand instinctively went to his left shoulder, kneading the sore joint. He exhaled deeply before rolling his shoulders and creaked his neck, chasing away the numbness. A dull, phantom pain, echoing in his left shoulder reminding him of his situation.

He rose from the bed, stepped into the center of the room, planted his feet firmly on the ground, and dropped down into position. The lynx braced his body weight on his one good arm and pushed himself up and down. He breathes came in controlled slow exhales as he repeated the motion six times before pushing himself into seating.

Another deep breath left his mouth as he closed his eyes and centered himself. His blood pumping, his body regaining its rhythm and his mind cleared.

He was ready.

The lynx rose up and approached the door. Planting his large ear on the metal surface of it, he closed his eyes and focused.

Crackle of statics

Buzzing of drones

Thumping of footsteps

Faint hum of machinery

Whirling of ventilation fan

Soft metallic clank of a door closing

Whisper of air moving through the ducts

All around the sounds of the complex pulsed, slow, deliberate and relentless, like a living body. Even at such a peaceful state.

‘Not peaceful for long.’

He opened the door with patience and care, not letting even a creak escape it as he slinked out and closed it.

The quiet hum of the facility became louder and encompassing as Zuma crept from shadow to shadow. His ears twitching at every sound, every shift in the atmosphere, alert to the smallest disturbance. His soft padded shoes barely made a sound on the cold, hard floor. His body looking like an extension of the shadows in the dark hallways and corridors to the naked eye.

There was a large window in the hallway he just passed, giving a view of the small garden the facility housed, and the drone watching over it. The flying the machine didn’t appear to be looking for anything specifically, but its constant vigilance gave the lynx a good head’s up to be on the lookout for the windows.

It was after passing that hallway that the ninja paused, listening. The low murmur of distant voices drifted from an adjoining hallway, and the shuffle of guards’ footsteps echoed against the walls. He stepped back, flattening himself against the corner.

A few seconds ticked by. Then, the voices grew faint. The guards had turned the other way.

Zuma let out a slow breath and moved, his steps as soft as a whisper. Really wishing he had some of his weapons.

‘These people are jumpy, and for good reasons. Best to not give them any reason to suspect you.’ Fiona’s voice sneaked up to the forefront of his mind, again, as the image of her dumping his tanto and throwing stars into Simian’s duffel bag like discarded waste passed in front of his eyes.

Zuma exhaled sharply as he tried to remember something more useful at the moment. Like the location of that map.

His eyes lit up at spotting an odd looking but very familiar workstation at the end of a corridor.

He made his way towards it with carefully measured steps. His ears twitching with the sound of steady breathing and ruffling clothe that came from the doors in the corridor.

Zuma’s eyes flickered to the map on the wall as he moved towards it. It was a large colorful sheet, detailing the building’s layout. Good thing it was near the window so the moonlight could offer some illumination. His hand traced along the floors of the tower as his eyes scanned it quickly. There were two guard barracks in the tower, one in the ground floor and the other near a room called the security center, which was on the 10th floor.

‘All of these renovations and security measures are fairly new and a bit of a hodgepodge; so it would make sense for them to control all the big guns from a singular center.’ Going by Fiona’s words, then that is where he needs to go.

And that was a problem.

Inazuma would have to navigate 10 floors full of patrols without any equipment, had to take the drones outside looking in through the mirrors into account, and the only way to navigate was through memory of this map.

His train of thought got derailed as the sound of buzzing came from the window next to the map. The lynx moved without thought, flattening himself against the wall before the drone stopped in front of the window and peered inside. He steadied his breaths as the surveillance device hovered closer to the glass. His body rigid and muscles coiled and ready to spring if it spotted him.

Time stretched. The machine hovered near window, staring inside with its unblinking red optics. A bead of sweat traveled down Zuma’s forehead, but he didn’t dare move.

‘If it spots me the mission is done for.’

Luckily it did not. After what felt like an eternity, the drone finally went back to its patrol, the sound of its small copters drifting away.

Only after the sound drifting away, did the lynx let go of his breath.

He wiped away the sweat on his forehead as he gazed out of the window. A frustrated huff left his mouth.

‘This plan is too hasty. I should at least be given a day to scout and familiarize myself with the layout and the patrol routes.’

This must be the wildest plan Fiona has ever come up with. The fox was not a risk averse leader but this was a whole new level. The smallest misstep could topple everything

‘Must be because of Scourge. The hedgehog has very little patience to spare for anything, much less a carefully constructed plan.’

And that made the lynx sigh in resignation, for it seems this is about to become the new norm now that Scourge is in charge.

‘Strength or quick thinking do not equal intellect. They are completely different qualities. The Destructix are deadly for each person on the team is allowed to operate to their true potential.’

It was a strange notion, considering how far they all went to get Scourge out of No-Zone prison, but Zuma could not help his thoughts drift towards questioning the notion of replacing Fiona with Scourge as their leader.

A dangerous train of thought.

One the lynx had no notion of chasing.

He spared another glance to the map and slipped back into the shadows.

Using the stairs would take too long and leave him too exposed.

The elevator was out of the question.

So that only left the ventilation shafts.

And he remembers spotting one in one of the hallways he passed.

Zuma stopped by a corner and sharpened his ears, listening for anything and everything. Once satisfied of the coast being clear, he proceeded to the hatch; a grated metal cover in the corner of the wall that he could easily fit through.

The metal walls of the ventilation shaft were as cold as they were unforgiving, the tight space pressing in from all sides as Zuma maneuvered through the narrow tunnel and ignoring the dull throb in his left shoulder. He kept his body low, movements slow and controlled, careful to distribute his weight evenly to avoid making unnecessary noise. The metal groaned faintly beneath him, but he barely registered it, he had long since learned how to move through such spaces without drawing attention. The air inside was stale, tinged with the faint scent of oil and dust. With every shift forward or upward he felt the edges of the metal press against his shoulders and knees, the confined space forcing him into a near-reptilian crawl. For anyone else, it would be claustrophobic, unbearable even; but for Zuma, it was just another part of the job.

His gloves and shoes, padded for stealth, worked wonderfully. The specialized material created just enough friction to grant him control, allowing him to slink forward without slipping. Each movement was methodical, his fingers gripping the narrow seams, his feet finding purchase against the thin ridges of the shaft’s floor.

A faint hum echoed through the ventilation system, the sounds of distant drones and muffled voices bleeding through from below, above, the sides, everywhere.

Zuma paused at another ventilation cover and peered through its grates, seeing another hallway but with distinctively different looking guards patrolling it.

‘8th. I'm close.’

He climbed up until reaching another fourway. He took a moment for a few deep breaths, the air feeling deceptively hollow and leaving a bitter taste in the back of his throat, before continuing.

Counting how much it took for him to reach each floor made him confident that after the next six pulls, the next turn will lead him to his goal. The lynx turned left, inching through another passage. The metal here was smoother, worn down from years of hot airflow, ensuring him of his path. His muscles burned from the constant tension but he pressed forward until he heard it.

Soft clicks of keyboard keys

His ears twitched as he slowed his paced and searched for the source.

Then, just ahead, he spotted it. Another grated vent cover. This one looking down.

He crawled towards it and felt relief wash over him as the noises of keyboard became clearer as he got closer. Peering through the grates of the cover destroyed any and all doubts.

The ventilation cover was right above a spacious room with tall server boxes flanking its walls and cables strewn about on the ground like sleeping snakes, illuminated with more than a dozen monitors on a singular wall, all connected to a sizeable command post.

Zuma grabbed it by the grates and applied the barest minimum of force to push it open. When he did, only a dull thud escaped it. He turned the cover around to fit it in the shafts and gently put it next to himself.

Now with a clear view of the room he could see that one of the guards just went outside, that left only three others. One was a black anteater who was walking to the coffee making machine, looking dead tired, and the two were a wolverine with shaggy brown fur and a white mouse, both sitting in front of the consoles and watching the monitors.

Zuma’s ears twitched as it caught the mouse’s whispering in the wolverine’s ears. It sounded quite sultry.

‘One of them is only awake through caffeine and the other two are distracted with flirting. This is too easy.’

He changed position to see the anteater yawning as he refilled his cup. Zuma saw that the small cabinets above the counter filled with culinary is just a bit further away from him. Waiting until the anteater turned around, and walked back to his chair, the lynx seized the moment.

He put his hands on the ledge of the shafts opening and dangled his body out. He swung his weight back and forth for three times before letting go and softly landing on the cabinet. His eyes snapped on the guards as the wood gave a small thud under his weight, but they were none the wiser.

Zuma quietly climbed down and slowly approached the guards from behind.

“Not now.” The wolverine growled, his voice deep and unpleasant.

The mouse scoffed. “Don't act all professional.” He teased with a smirk, his tail flickering on his partner’s ear. “I know you’re enjoying this.”

The gruff carnivore sighed heavily as he swatted away the offending appendage and turned to the smaller mobian. But before anymore words could be exchanged, both guards were grabbed by the back of their necks and their heads got smashed to each other.

“What the...?” The anteater jumped, his clothes getting soaked in hot coffee, as he heard the sounds of bodies dropping and chairs spinning. His eyes nearly popped out of their sockets when turned around and saw both of his coworkers knocked out cold on the ground and a grim faced lynx standing over them.

Before the guard could completely process what happened the ninja charged at him. The lynx struck the anteater in the side of his neck in a chopping motion, causing him to choke on his breath and crumble to the floor as his body went limp.

Inazuma moved to the consoles and scanned each monitor. Most were surveillance footage of the complexes perimeter and a few others charts and logs that he could not what they were for.

‘Doesn’t matter.’ He thought as he pulled out Fiona’s gift out of his shoe and inserted it into a USB port.

A notification came up in one of the screens.

Unknown program detected!
This program might cause harm to the system. Do you wish to allow access?

Zuma clicked the accept button and bared witness to complete chaos.

One of the screens with charts on them brought up a management program of some sort that was showing the Anarchy Beryl force field generator.

Power redirection in progress

Several alarms showed up on a few of the screens, warnings about overcharge and power circuits destabilizing, before the server boxes behind him started sizzling with bolts of electricity flying out of them. The smell of ozone and burned plastic filling his senses.

The alarms doubled in amount as drones started shutting down and torrents went haywire.

All of a sudden everything got encompassed by darkness, for a few seconds, and when the lights came back every single monitor was flooded with warnings and alarms of the security systems failing. Yet Zuma barely paid any attention to them as the biggest alarm was the one he was looking for.

Alert!
Force field generator destabilized!
Alert!

The lynx allowed himself a self-satisfied smirk as he took back his USB and walked towards the exit.

With the force field vulnerable, Scourge can take care of the generator, and his team will take over this place within an hour. So he best be quick.

‘Now, time to find the dear doctor.’

Chapter Text

The first thing Scourge noticed was the warmth.

Not the kind that came from fire, friction or the sunlight, but the kind you forgot existed when you'd spent too long surrounded by steel walls, stun batons, and the sharp stink of antiseptic. The warmth of a gentle touch.

The second was the weight. Solid, soft and spread out from his shoulder to across his scarred abdomen.

And the third came the smell; the grimy odor of oil, the sharp tang of wild grass and the sour scent of dried sweat traced with something else, something sweet yet bitter.

Scourge yawned as his eyes groggily opened. After blinking away the blurriness, the first thing he saw was a mop of dark red hair in his face. A yellow bow sitting in the middle of it.

Fiona.

Her head was on his chest, looking mighty comfortable with her arm slung across his side, like this is where they belonged. Maybe they did.

Seconds got stretched into minutes, and Scourge didn’t move. Didn’t dare to. Just laid there on the grass, staring at the starry night sky with his girlfriend napping at his side. The world felt still and quiet, but far from peaceful. He didn’t trust peace. Or quiet. Even before the No-Zone prison, where every quiet or peaceful moment was the breath that left the lungs without the sting of cracked ribs before the next beating, long stretches of calm meant serious trouble. Meant he had nothing to do with his hands, nothing to run from, nowhere to run to, no rush of adrenaline or planning strategy to burn any and all brain cells. Whenever his body stilled, his head got loud.

And it never thought nice things.

But this….this moment? Strangely enough, he couldn’t find any problem with it.

Dare say was even content with it.

‘Why though?’

Scourge couldn’t say it felt surreal because….well it didn’t. It felt very damn real. In a way that made his skin crawl and his heart to settle at the same time.

Maybe because it was the first time in months, maybe even longer, that he was touched with this much intent. With care. Warmth.

He blinked at the dim sky just in time to catch a shimmer fading overhead, accompanied by a strange mechanical whine.

‘It sounded like a dying animal.’

Fiona stirred and slowly turned her head toward Scourge. Gorgeous sky blue orbs glinted in the dark as they blinked at him. With hair a mess and left ear folded where it had pressed against him, she looked almost innocent. Almost.

He simply grinned lazily to her silent question before sighing at her getting up.

Whether he was relieved to be free from her weight or missing the warmth, he didn’t care enough to think about.

Thinking about sentimental shit always led to even shittier places.

Fortunately, his mind didn’t get to even try to drag him back in its depth, for his girl propped herself up on her left elbow, rubbed her eyes with her right hand, and then proceeded to stretch. Unintentionally giving the hedgehog quite the show of her figure.

So Scourge resigned himself to staying put, letting his mind wander into…livelier thoughts. Until Fiona tugged something out from beneath his head.

His makeshift pillow, his jacket.

She scoffed at his surprised yelp, grinning like a devil.

“Rise and riot big boy.” She murmured, shaking off the dirt and leaves from the worn leather.

The hedgehog huffed, pushing himself off the ground and stretching his back. A groan escaped him as the sore muscles loosened a fraction of their tension. Fiona approached, holding out his jacket, folded like a birthday present with a ghost of a smile on her muzzle. The second Scourge grabbed it she sprang up and planted a soft kiss on his cheeks.

“Don't get it more shredded.” She winked at him before turning towards their team.

For a moment, Scourge didn’t move. Just stared at his girlfriend. Silhouetted by the flickering lights of a dying force field, her hand on her hips, her tail flickering like a snake made of shadows and her ears twitching at every distant crackle of static. He’d never admit it out loud, but sometimes, just sometimes, she took his breath away more than a fight ever could.

A throat cleared. Snapping him out of these thoughts. Looking toward its source had Scourge locking eyes with the disgruntled face of a veteran gorilla, who raised an eyebrow at him before side glancing Fiona. Scourge answered with a glare before pulling on his jacket, savoring the familiar feel of leather and the faint scent of ozone.

‘Get your head in the game.’

He rolled his shoulders and walked up to the group. All of them watched the hospital complex ahead, its precious force field sputtering like a candle about to flicker out, painting the night in jagged flashes of bluish purple.

“Drones are down, turrets are shut and the force field generator is haywiring.” Predator reported after touching down, his extreme gear still powered on, ready for takeoff.

Fiona nodded, posture tense. “Then best get a move on, we got about two minutes until the backup generator kicks in.”

Scourge grinned as he stretched his legs.

“Two minutes too long.”

Fiona whirled around, a critical look pointed at the hedgehog.

“Scourge remember…”

“Yeah, yeah, I know; get the beryl and clear the way so you guys can come and raise hell.” He cut her off, creaked his neck and letting out a sigh at the tensions relief, before getting on a running pose. “Just try to keep up.”

The hedgehog launched himself forward, the forest melting into a smear of dark greens and shadowed browns as he build up speed. Dirt scattered in his wake like smoke from a fuse. The wind howled in his ears, causing any and all sounds (especially Fiona’s undignified shout) to drown out alongside his rapid footfalls. His body became pure momentum. Muscles coiled tight like springs and eyes narrowed with a predator’s focus. The sight of the compound’s gate looming ahead, with the force field looking near invisible, only made his smirk widen.

Scourge dropped low, curling into a spin dash just meters away from the gate, his quills flaring outward in a violent cyclone of power. The familiar pressure of the maneuver settling in before the hedgehog launched himself into the gate like a wrecking ball. Metal shrieked as it folded under the sheer force of his attack, winning like a dying beast. Shock waves exploded in a burst of green sparks as the whole structure caved inward, twisting like it had been punched by a giant. The tore through it in a shower of debris, steel shrapnel whirling through the air behind him.

Scourge unfurled from the spin and skidded low, sliding across the gravel with a satisfied snarl twisting his muzzle. He barely had any time to digest the strange, prickling sensation that passed through his body and caused a ripple in his spine after he passed the force field before the weapons hum came. Accompanied by a shrill scream.

“BARRIER BREACH!”

Nearly a dozen mobian guards in armored vests surrounded the hedgehog, guns leveled at him with trembling hands.

He cocked an eyebrow, grinning like a devil fresh out of hell.

“Well ain’t this quite the welcome.”

“KILL HIM!”

The courtyard erupted in gunfire. Scorching bolts of amber plasma sliced through the air, burning holes in the walls and trees behind him. But Scourge was already moving, twisting, flipping, sliding beneath bolts and bouncing off walls with momentum that made tracking him a nightmare.

He zigzagged through the barrage, darting between the soldiers like a green comet on crack. One guard barely had time to scream before he found himself spun around and flung face-first into one of the towers, giving the Scourge an idea.

“Time for some renovation.”

The hedgehog lunged forward like a spring uncoiled, dodging fire with inches to spare, weaving through the chaos with ease born from instinct and experience as he curled into a spin dash, glowing with sick green energy, and slammed himself against the tower.

Metal shrieked, concrete cracked, and the entire structure groaned with an ominous creak before giving out. The tower tilted in slow motion for just a breath and then crashed down like a hammer from the heaven.

The guards couldn't scatter fast enough.

Half the squad in the courtyard got swallowed by the collapse, buried in a thunder of twisted steel, splintered scaffolding, and clouds of dust as thick as fog. And through it all, Scourge emerged from the dust cloud, posture relaxed as he admired his handiwork.

All of a sudden a noise echoed throughout the complex. A mechanical whine laced with something else, something that made his quills stand upright as the prickle on the back of his spine returned. Scourge's eyes snapped to the tower ahead. The air on top of it buzzing with heat and tension. From the tower’s roof, the generator groaned like a wounded animal, its glow sickly and unstable. Reminding him of the plan.

‘Right, first the beryl, then the beatdowm.’

Not wasting anymore time, he turned and sprinted toward the tower. His feet hit the concrete in rhythmic slaps as he sprinted vertically, defying gravity with sheer momentum. Shouts and gunfire followed him like angry bees, but none got even close to him. Reaching the ledge, he grabbed it, swung himself over, and flipped through the air one last time, basking in the brief feeling of weightlessness before landing hard on the rooftop with a thud. Gravel scattering beneath his boots.

The generator loomed like a metallic statue of darkness. Looking just as unbelievable and hodgepodgy as it did from afar. The gem inside pulsing with raw power, and Anarchy bleeding from its core in fire-like waves.

The hedgehog sucked in a breath before approaching the malfunctioning machine. The very air around it felt thick, heavy with unchained power. It was so intense that Scourge could literally taste it. It nearly knocked the wind out of him.

His eyes zeroed in on the flickering lights seem to be coming as he remembered Fiona’s words.

‘You can't get near the beryl while the generator is unstable. First you need to shut it down. Look for cold pipes.’

The hedgehog huffed as he circled around the machine, his girlfriend’s words echoing in his head.

‘The biggest headache for a generator like that is its cooling system. It’s bound to get worn out fast when supporting this amount of power siphoning. So there must be a shutdown protocol in case of a cooling system failure.’

He barely understood half it; only that he needed to rip off some pipes before getting near the beryl. And with the way the generator was acting up, he felt like there was something to his girlfriend’s words.

‘Still, she's getting too comfy bossing everyone around. Gotta talk to her about it. Soon.’

The hedgehog stalked around the base of the generator, eyes scanning for anything that looked even remotely like a pipe. The whole thing was a mess of steel plates, bolts and glowing seams, humming with the unstable energy coursing through it. But then, near the back, he spotted them. Thick brown tubes snaking from the core, covered in bits of frost and vibrating faintly from the pressure running through them. Scourge crouched low and grabbed the cold pipe with his gloved hands. One. Two. Three violent tugs, and the pipe hissed as they cracked loose, steam bursting out with a screech. The pipe swung free and clanged to the floor. The generator roared in response of losing the flow of the chill coolant, deep and furious. Like it knew it’s been violated.

The hedgehog took a few steps back as he saw a surge of electricity ripple through the machine like lightning. The violent arcs of Anarchy coiled inward like they’d been yanked back on a leash, and the generator’s hum softened into something almost silent. The rotating thing that spitted out the column of energy to the sky, and held the force field, slowed down. Causing the energy column to flicker out, and with it, the force field.

The shield vanished. The light died. And the screams began.

A cacophony, nearly a hundred voices shrieking at once, pierced the sky like a war cry. But to Scourge it all melted into white noise and static. Just a part his victories soundtrack. The world narrowed down to the glowing containment chamber on the generator. A solid kick and the latch snapped, allowing hot steam to hiss outwards, hot and wet against his skin. A pulse of raw heat rolled off the chamber like an exhale from a dragon’s mouth, making the hedgehog sweat as it hit him like a wall. A sigh left his mouth as his eyes feasted upon his magnificent prize. Glowing a deep, malevolent violet, the Anarchy Beryl sat in the small chamber like the beating heart of a God. The familiar hum of its power calling out to the hedgehog like an old friend. Welcoming him back.

“Well, hello beautiful…” Scourge murmured as he reached for it. Eyes wide and enthralled. The small surges of Anarchy nearly kissing fingertips….

And then something snatched him.

A crushing grip wrapped around his neck from the back.

Not a hand. A clamp.

Cold and brutal, finger like thick metal hooks dug into his skin. Before Scourge could even react he got ripped backwards, the ground vanishing beneath his feet as he was hurled through the air like he weighted nothing.

The world flipped and gravity spun as Scourge became airborne, for mere seconds, before hitting the gravel and tumbling in a violent roll that scrapped his fur. Pain nagged at him as his vision spun, noticing the ledge. When the ground beneath him vanished again, reflex kicked in. His hands reached out to grab into something, anything, to prevent the coming fall.

At the last second, he caught the roof’s ledge, fingers scrapping for purchase. Gravel rained down as his body swung, dangling ten stories above a field ruled by chaos. Fire lighting up the night sky as it swallowed building after, people running around like lost ants, their screams and shouting downed by the explosions. The sight of Predator, flying over them all and dropping grenades, said it all. It started.

‘And I still don’t have the beryl.’

The speedster growled with a nasty glare as he grabbed the ledge with his other hand and pulled himself up. Muscles burned while supporting his weight, but he didn’t let the tension slip away, for he had an ass whooping to serve up. But the murderous intensions needed to wait a little longer. For the hedgehog stopped dead on his tracks as he came face to face with his backstabber.

It was a robot. Around Scourge’s height, slick build, blue glowing eyes, mobian like, its shiny silver metal and orange plating illuminated by the moonlight. It reminded him of Metal Sonic, in some weird way. But that thing looked like a hedgehog, this thing? Scourge isn’t sure. A badger?

“What the fu…”

“Greetings, Scourge!” The thing buzzed in a perfectly modulated timbre. “I have been looking forward to meet you.” There a was strange quality to his tone. Like it was excited.

‘It sounds like an old hag.’ The hedgehog mused as he blinked at the now empty beryl chamber on the generator. ‘And took the damn beryl. Great.’

“And who the hell are you?” He rasped, making the machine blink before slapping its own head with a sharp clank.

“My goodness! How rude! To allow my enthusiasm overrule my manners.” The robot shook its head, looking like a teacher disappointed in their student. “Allow me to rectify it with an introduction!” He struck a pose similar to a theater bow before chiming up again. “My designation is Steel the Sentinel.”

The robot righted itself up before slamming its left fist into its right palm. “And my directive is to break every single bone inside of your body.”

“Cute.” Scourge scoffed as he dusted off his jacket. “How long you've been rehearsing that?”

Instead of an answer, the robot leaped. Rocket boosters under its feet screamed and it was on Scourge within a second. Steel tackled Scourge, its metal arms digging into the hedgehog’s shoulders as it launched them both off the rooftop in a blazing arc. The world blurred as they plummeted and wind tore past the hedgehog’s ears as ground raced to meet them. Scourge’s eyes narrowed, trying to regain focus through the chaos as he struggled against the iron grip. Instincts flared as he bent his knees and kicked him off against the robot’s chestplate, making the robot loose hold for the hedgehog to twist his body. Steel’s thrusters fired wildly, struggling to regain momentum. The hedgehog and robot spiraled into a tumble mid-air, giving Scourge the chance to rip himself free himself. He spin dashed into Steel mere seconds before colliding with the ground. Their impact looking like a meteor strike to everyone in the courtyard.

Scourge bounced off the sentinel, rolled once, and flopped onto his back with a groan. His vision swam and his back and joints hurt.

‘That’s the last time I’m spin dashing without build up.’ The hedgehog sighed as his gaze caught the sentinel’s now still form. Blinking rapidly as the color reminded him of something. Fiona’s voice echoed in his head:

‘Kintobor built something. Something designed to counter you. I don’t know what it is. But word is, it’s fast, and strong…’

‘…Just look out for an orange robot.’

His girlfriend’s whisper of a memory barely passed when something came crashing down towards his face.

The ground shuddered as something big and heavy slammed into it with a seismic crack.

Scourge rolled just in time.

For where his head used to be mere seconds ago, was now a rock as big as Simian.

The speedster didn’t get to sigh in relief. For there was no relief to find in witnessing the one who just tried to crush his head like grape punch the rock twice their size and break it in half.

Steel strode over the crushed remains of the rock like a specter, the two pieces dropping to the side lifelessly, its blue eyes gleaming in the dark with deadly intent.

Scourge stared right back with a savage grin.

“It’s gonna be one of those nights, huh?” He muttered, spitting gravel as he pushed himself up.

Fiona and Simian burst in through the doors, the chaos they left behind screaming after them, and slammed them shut. The sound of the metal clang echoing in the empty lobby. The fox leaned forward, one hand braced on the door as she steadied her breath, heart still jackhammering from the mad sprint they had through the absolute hell that was outside. The sound of scraping wood on ceramic drew her attention to her companion. The towering gorilla did not waste any time and was dragging the oversized reception desk towards the door. Fiona jumped in, gripping the sides and throwing her weight behind the oak furniture. Together, they slammed the makeshift barricade to the door with a satisfying thud.

‘A quick fix. Won’t hold long though.’ Fiona thought with a huff.

Simian wasn’t done though.

The veteran turned to a corner of the room, where an industrial pipe ran up the wall. With a sharp grunt, he ripped off a good chunk of it. Wires sparkled as metal groaned in protest. Fiona stepped back, giving the gorilla some space as he stalked back to the door and slid the pipe through handles, his face scrunched up as he twisted the metal until its ends bent past each other and locked into place.

A crude lock. But effective.

‘Should buy us a good while.’

Fiona finally straightened, eyes darting around the empty and dark lobby, ignoring the muffled sounds of screams and explosions from the outside.

‘Predator won’t be able to bombard them forever, and Flipping will eventually get caught drawing all their attention. Zuma better hurry.’

“We should hurry.” Came Simian’s baritone, grounding her in the moment, and their plan.

The fox nodded before running to the corridor to the right of the reception area, the gorilla’s heavy steps following her.

“Predator spotted Buns parking the mech suit in the main workshop. Ground floor, right side of the tower.” She recalled aloud.

‘The last thing we need is for her gigantic mech suit to trample all over the plan, literally.’

They passed two hallways and took another turn, before spotting it. The only double doors in the building, with a big sign hanging above it.

WORKSHOP

But something was off.

The doors were open. Just barely. Left ajar as if someone left, or entered in a hurry.

The Destructix duo shared a kicked the doors open.

Inside was a mess.

Machine parts, scattered blueprints, busted crates, loose wires, half-finished contraptions, pipes, cables and tools and such were strewn about the large room, creating a greasy labyrinth. Yet all of it had a strange, lived-in logic.

‘Controlled chaos, Tails would call it.’

But none that mattered compared to the centerpiece

The Omega Care Unit

An imposing mech suit, just a head shorter than Simian, with sleek black and blue armor plating. Built to sustain Buns Rabbot’s weakened immune system. And right now, a flash of golden fur disappeared inside of it.

“SIMIAN!”

The veteran was already moving. He launched himself at the machine and metal shrieked as the heavy suit got tackled by the gorilla. The ground shook as the mech suit gave into Simian’s weight and hit the floor, throwing its pilot out. Buns hit the floor hard, and rolled. She spared a panicked glance at them before scrambling upright. Fiona’s eyes widened as she saw the rabbit bolt towards a cluttered desk.

‘Buns can walk!? Since when?”

Rabbot smashed a locked chest open with a wrench and yanked out a very thick rifle.

Simian charged forward, aiming to crush the rabbit but Fiona stood where she was. Eyes bulging at the sight of the short yet wide muzzle, the small glowing emitters and the low whine as it charged up.

Her instincts screamed.

“DUCK!” The fox screamed, hurling herself sideways just as…

BOOM!

The sound hit like a freight train made of thunder. Not just loud, deep, like it was rattling up from the floorboards of the world itself. The violent concussive wave that exploded out of the weapon rippled the air, space itself warping with visible shockwaves when Buns pulled the trigger. And Simian was hit dead-on.

He didn’t even shout, or groan, or give any indication of pain. The wave slammed into the gorilla and lifted him clean off the ground and hurled across the room, having him hit the mech suit and fall into a heap of muscle and metal outside the workshop.

Fiona pushed herself off the floor, ears ringing despite having dodged the brunt. She gritted her teeth, body vibrating with the weapon’s residual hum. She spared a glance at Buns, noticing the way the rabbit’s arms were shaking as she lowered the gun's muzzle and took a deep breath.

The second Fiona took a step, Buns' eyes met hers. And her hand pumped the fore-end of the sonic disrupter.

Fiona moved.

She jumped behind the nearest cover, an overturned engine rig bigger than a fridge, and rolled past it just as the second shot from the cannon rang out. She could feel the wave of sound vibrate through the air, sending the engine tumbling down like a severed tree with several of its pieces missing. The room shook as the giant mechanical component fell. It barely missed the fox, causing her to fall and scramble back up as the sound of another charge came.

‘Buns isn't playing around. That thing hits me, I’m paste.’

Fiona bolted low behind a tall stack of metal crates and dashed past before another thunderous shockwave tore through her cover, flinging the crates and all the knickknacks inside of them across the room. The walls shook as the blast echoed through the cramped space.

“STAND STILL, SKANK!” The rabbit screamed before pumping back the cannon’s fore-end, charging it up.

Fiona skidded to a stop behind a contraption of some sort, her heart thudding and eyes flicking across the chaos. When the fox noticed there was only one other cover she could rely on after Bunnie blew this one too, she decided that she played the mouse in the maze for long enough.

‘No risk, no reward.’

The fox turned back to the direction she came from and rolled away before the contraption got blown to pieces by another ear piercing blast of shockwave. She stood up in the open, to the rabbit’s right, as Buns blasted away the workbench next to the contraption, believing the fox has continued with her predictable route. Giving Fiona three seconds before getting noticed.

And that was all she needed to draw her knife, take aim, and throw it. The blade flew through the air like a streak of silver lightning, cutting the distance between them.

Buns caught the movement through the thin layer of dust and debris and pumped the canon as she took aim…

Thuck!

Only for the knife to sink straight into the gun’s muzzle just when Buns pulled the trigger. The rabbit’s eyes widened in horror as the canon shook and sparks danced across its frame. The emitters glow flickered rapidly and the low whine that accompanied the charging mechanism became a rumbling buzz.

Buns snarled as she tossed it aside, not willing to risk it blowing up in her face.

“Said the bitch in the leotard.” Came Fiona’s low growl, stalking towards the rabbit as the last of the smoke and dust curled between them.

Buns let out a savage snarl and charged.

She swung wild and Fiona sidestepped just in time, the fist grazing a lock of her bangs, and drove her knee straight into Buns’ gut.

The golden furred rabbit gagged, air getting ripped out of her lungs as she folded over, eyes wide in stunned pain. Not having the capacity to do anything against the foxes next assault, which came in the form of a bone-jarring double axe handle to her back.

Buns hit the floor hard, limbs splaying out and dazed.

Fiona turned the rabbit over and gave her a sickeningly sweet smile.

“Nighty night, skank.” Was the last thing Buns heard before getting a faceful of metal sole boots.

Fiona ran hand on her boots to clean off the blood that came from the now out cold rabbit’s broken nose before marching towards the discarded canon.

‘Invalid idiot thought she could throw hands after spending a year in wheelchairs and a mech suit.’ She scoffed as her eyes examined the burnt out weapon, making sure it wouldn't act up before yanking her knife out of the muzzle.

‘How did she got back her legs anyway? NIDS doesn't let any kind of healing procedure take place because it chokes out all of the body's capacity for it.’ Fiona mused as she pocketed her knife, her icy blue eyes scrutinizing the knocked out rabbit.

She shook her head and marched towards the entrance to check on her teammate. Not seeing any point on sating her medical mind's curiosity right now.

The large gorilla was already regaining consciousness when she kneeled next to him.

“Alright, Sergeant. Nap time’s over.” The fox gently slapped the side of his face, making him groan as he awoke. Fiona checked for any wounds, blinking in bewilderment at how young the gorilla looked without his helmet.

‘Despite everything, we still have yet to reach proper adulthood.’

Simian finally opened his eyes, seeing her making his posture relax.

“What…what was that?” The veteran rasped while running a hand from his head to his face.

Fiona didn’t answer right away. Her eyes locked on the mech suit beside him as she remembered the ripple of concentrated soundwaves the weapon produced, how it flung both the gorilla and the heap of metal across the room like paper.

“A sonic disrupter.” She muttered, mostly to herself. “Nonlethal, but packs a punch like nothing else. Can knock over anything without an energy shield.”

Simian raised a tired eyebrow at her.

“Tails rigged one up during a swatbot factory raid.” The fox sighed, reaching for his camo helmet.

“I thought Freedom Fighters didn’t use guns.” The gorilla grunted as he took back his helmet.

“We were cornered and outnumbered.” Fiona shrugged. She couldn’t bring herself to care about her old team’s codes of conduct at the moment.

‘Better trash this mech suit quickly, then we can…’

Suddenly her ears twitched.

A very low sound came, barely perceptible. A faint tremor, like a dying engine growling deep underground. But it wasn’t mechanical. It was rhythm. Cadence.

A soft, unremarkable thud-thud-thud.

Fiona rose up, body taut. “You hear that?”

“What, the ringing in my skull?” Simian grunted.

Fiona’s head whipped to their left corner, where she could hear voices reverberating across the hallway the Destructix duo just came from. She hushed the gorilla as her ears twitched to gain better clarity of the noises.

Footsteps, hurried and fast.

Words, breathless and faint.

All which were getting closer.

Fiona reached over Simian and plucked a grenade from his bandolier without asking. Her eyes remained glued to the corner as her thumb caressed the cold metal of the cylindrical explosive, her heartbeat elevating.

The noises became louder and closer by the second, and the very second her eyes caught the sight of a boot and a gun’s muzzle, she pulled the pin free. A sharp clink followed and the deadly device was hurled straight down the hall.

A second later, three figures stepped into view, and got swallowed by fire. The explosion rocked the corridor with a thunderous boom. Smoke billowed out in a roiling wave of dust and debris. Screams briefly pierced the chaos, cut off by the rolling thunder of shrapnel and force. The hallway lit up in a flash of orange, then went dark again under the thick cloak of acrid smoke.

Fiona breathed heavily, ears ringing, heart pounding as she stared into the haze, lips tight.

A few seconds of silence was all she needed to finally turn her back on it.

“We gotta move.” The fox said as she helped her companion to his feet.

The veteran put back his helmet, rolled his shoulder with a grunt, and stomped towards the Omega Care Unit. Sparks shot from the damaged joint as he gripped the mech’s leg with both hands, planting his left boot on its hull. With a guttural growl, the gorilla pulled, wrenching metal free with a scream of bolts and torn servo-hydraulics. Cables snapping with whip like cracks as he tore the limb free. Sparks danced off his forearm, but Simian didn’t flinch. Another pull and the other leg followed. Twisted steel clanged to the floor like an anchor drop.

Simian spared the smoke-choked hallway a glance before marching forward, leaving Fiona dumbfounded and questioning if the blast mushed up his brain.

“Simian?”

He didn’t answer. Just waved his massive hand and disappeared into the smoke. Sounds of clattering came before the gorilla reemerged a moment later, hands heavy with guns.

Fiona’s question died in her throat.

Simian threw Fiona a sleek dark green SMG and slung a broad-barreled shotgun over his back, a heavy pistol with sharp, squared edges and a glowing ammo counter holstered on his side.

Fiona accepted the weapon without a word and examined it. It was a little bulky for an SMG, its body was etched with pale blue lights and a compact energy core humming faintly. But its weight was good, the grip even better. She chambered it, the sound crisp and satisfying, before thanking the other Destructix with a nod.

Simian nodded back before asking “What now boss?”

Fiona took a moment before answering. “Predator must’ve run out of grenades by now, but he and Flipping still have Scourge out there with them. Inazuma on the other hand, is still on his own in here, unarmed.”

“So we find Zuma, then Kintobor, and hold the doctor hostage so the rest of the security fall in line.”

Fiona smirked in response. This is why she liked Simian more than the rest of the Destructix. The veteran wasn’t just quick to act, but also quick to think. Tactical and strategic. Very little nonsense or baggage came from working with him.

‘Isn’t that a rare trait nowadays.’

They moved in tandem, steps echoing as they made their way through the halls and corridors. Aiming to find the nearest elevator, map or anything that might help them locate either the doctor or their teammate. Fiona kept her head on a swivel, the tension in her mind tightening with each step in an unknown direction.

She hated this. Running around like headless chickens without any clue or clear direction. Not having any form of preparation.

‘If we had comm’s, would’ve been able to keep in touch, stay coordinated. this plan wouldn’t have taken half this long.’

But that wouldn’t be possible, for it would take another raid at another army base. And that would take more than three days of scouting and planning. Time that Finitevus would not grant them to take after she took his offer. And Scourge sure as hell wasn’t going to let them bother raiding a base for some standard equipment.

‘It took me weeks to get the whole crew and what little we have together. But God forbid if either Scourge or Dr. albinism wait so we could have smoother missions.’

Before the fox could spiral any further, they turned to a corridor, and a crash shook everything. Something fast, orange and green, blasted through the ceiling of the corridor, tearing through concrete like paper, before slamming into the wall to the left like a missile with a metallic thud. Leaving nothing but dust, debris, and two frozen Destructix.

Simian met Fiona’s distressed expression with a grim one.

The fox bolted forward, ducking around the twisted debris, and peered through fresh gaping hole in the wall. Below her was the main lobby, with Scourge standing in the middle over a beaten up orange robot, lying in a crater. More than a dozen guards strewn about the lobby, the blasted entrance doors and it's barricade being the reason, and were now aiming their guns at the fastest being in the world.

It went about as well one could expect.

Scourge turned into a blur of violence. Tearing through the guards like a green bolt of destruction. His fists a blur, his laughter sharp and feral. Bodies flew. Bones cracked. Half the squad was down in seconds. The gunshots the mobians desperately fired didn't even grazed the hegdehog. They might as well be fireworks.

It was quite the sight. Fiona couldn't look away, even if she wanted to.

There was something catalhartic in watching her boyfriend being an unstoppable force of nature. A wind that nothing could slow dow or stop.

But then the sentinel steered.

The orange-plated machine surged up from the floor behind Scourge and tackled him through the broken lobby doors, sending them both rolling into the open courtyard beyond in a blur of sparks and snarls.

Before Fiona could curse, a guard spotted her and Simian.

“There!”

Energy bolts screamed past them. Fiona and Simian ducked away as shards of concrete exploded around the hole. The gorilla reached into his bandolier and slid a grenade across the floor to her without a word. Fiona took it and counted until three with her fingers before they both yanked the pins simultaneously and lobbed the explosives through the hole.

“GRENADE!”

“TAKE COVER...!”

Panicked screams echoed just before the lobby lit up with twin bursts of orange and concussive force. The Destructix duo vaulted through the hole, debris crunching underfoot as smoke licked at their boots.

Two guards met them immediately. Simian’s pistol barked, dropping the first one with a single, echoing shot to the head. Fiona opened fire on the second, bolts pinging off armor, forcing the tiger behind a pillar.

When they made it near the center of the room, Simian grabbed a massive slab of broken debris (part of the crater left by Scourge’s earlier spin dash) and put it in front of them guards opened fire. Energy bolts scorched off small pieces of their makeshift barrier. Fiona’s SMG roared when the shooting stopped, making another guard regret leaving his cover.

More shots rang out from deeper in the lobby, chewing into their cover. Then came a single, devastating crack. Not like the others. Louder. Sharper. Precision.

A high-powered rifle round tore through the debris, obliterating their cover and sending Fiona and Simian sprawling.

Fiona grunted, dirt and dust filled her vision as she rolled to her side. Spotting tall figures, the fox pulled the trigger, unloading her SMG in a tight burst that cut down one of the advancing figures. Simian rose up and shot down the tiger behind the pillar.

Then a shot rang out. Loud. Sharp.

Simian's helmet flew off his head and his head violently jerked backwards. He dropped like a sack of potato at the same time his helmet landed on the floor, with a smoking hole in it.

“Simian!” Fiona screamed, scrambling toward him, panic taking a hold of her. But the sound of a click brought her to the moment. Making her spot the the rifle shooter, a brick colored quokka in a brown tactical vest, recharging his oversized weapon.

'No time to check him. No time to think.'

She yanked the shotgun off the gorilla's back, aimed, and pulled the trigger.

The blast gave a nasty kick back, nearly making her fall, as it sent the quokka sprawling down and teared into another guard's head who was standing behind the quokka. Fiona’s eyes scanned the entire lobby. Fingers twitching, ready to dispatch anything that dared to move. Nothing but dust, debris, and dead bodies remained.

Fiona let go of the breath she was holding as she lowered the weapon, its muzzle still hot from use. The only sounds or indication of other life was the rampaging chaos outside.

Fiona finally slumped down, chest heaving, and her limbs feeling like lead. The cold tile of the tower floor pressed against her palms as she leaned back, against the still and battered body of Simian. The fox's fists clenched at the reminder of their loss, but let go as adrenaline gave way to aching fatigue. For a long, drawn-out moment, she just sat there, staring out through the shattered entrance doors, taking in the mayhem still unfolding outside. The screams, the smoke, the unmistakable trail her boyfriend left behind while wrestling with that sentinel. There wasn't a significant distance between the tower and the rest of the complex, and yet for some reason it all looked....distant. Distant and strangely muffled.

'I should be out there.' Her mind berated, but she ignored it, at least for now.

A moment of solitude was a given.

But the tower’s PA system seem to disagree, by crackling to life.

“Attention everyone!” Came the monotone voice of the lynx she sent here with a limp arm. “Dr. Kintobor has something very important to disclose.”

Fiona perked up and sat straighter as the familiar voice of the man who destroyed her childhood came. But without any of the graveliness or assertive tone.

“Everyone…p..please cooperate with the...” A pause, and then it returned, even more shaky. “T-the intruders. F-for your safe….safety do what t-they say....

Zuma’s voice returned, sharper now. “If anyone feels brave, remember that your precious doctor got a lot of small limbs to spare before getting completely crippled.”

Fiona let out a breathy chuckle as she laid her head on her companions torso.

“About fucking time.”

She closed her eyes, basking in the moment of victory, not noticing the faint rasp of breathing beneath her.