Archive of Our Own ^beta

Sonic was made of tough stuff, but there was only so much physical violence he could take before he collapsed on the metal floor and couldn’t push himself back up. He didn’t have the energy or the stamina any more; they’d long drained away as hunger had gnawed his stomach open and exhaustion had made itself at home in his muscles. He laid on the floor, instead, gasping for air through the aching of his beaten body.

He was aware of Infinite looming over him, his dark fur scuffed, gloves and boots splattered with Sonic’s blood. He didn’t so much as chuckle at Sonic’s state—a stark contrast to Eggman, who wouldn’t have resisted the opportunity to laugh and rub it in—but Sonic was sure he was smirking underneath his creepy mask.

“I will commend you, hedgehog,” Infinite told him, voice flat and cold like always. Sonic had yet to decide if his lack of obvious amusement was better or worse. “Even like this, your stubbornness is unmatched.”

Sonic couldn’t bring himself to crack a joke. He was in too much pain for that. Instead, he turned his head against the floor to glare up at Infinite, teeth bared.

Infinite wasn’t fazed. “In the end, though, it only proves your inferiority.”

It was too bad Sonic couldn’t have punched Infinite’s teeth out, or made him bite his own tongue off. He was already sick of listening to him prattle on about how powerful he was, as if he wasn’t obviously siphoning off the ruby implanted in his chest.

Infinite gave him a once-over, his visible eye taking in the cuts and bruises he’d littered Sonic’s body with. Sonic braced himself to be injured again—whether that was Infinite raking claws down his side or stomping his boot down hard on a leg—but nothing happened. Infinite seemed to be satisfied with his handiwork.

“Be a good boy and wait there,” Infinite instructed coolly. He left the cell with no further fanfare, phasing through the bars in a burst of glitchy red light.

Sonic hissed through clenched teeth as he forced himself to sit up against the wall, cradling his bruised middle as best as he could with his arms cuffed in front of him. He tried moving each of his limbs, assessing them for damage. Infinite didn’t seem to have caused any major breaks, at least, but shooting pains informed Sonic that he’d left a few fractures. Sonic only hoped he’d still be able to walk. It’d be a nightmare if he had to deal with that while he was imprisoned.

He didn’t get much farther in checking his injuries before Infinite returned to the cell, brandishing a bright red first-aid kit. Sonic blinked stupidly at it. Where’d that come from? Well, it didn’t surprise him to think Eggman had plenty of medical supplies in stock, but, still—

Infinite knelt on the floor beside him. Sonic couldn’t help flinching away, expecting further violence. A firm, gloved hand on his shoulder stopped him from creating any more distance between them.

“Don’t be like that,” Infinite chided. “Unless you’d prefer to go without treatment.”

Sonic hesitated; he really didn’t want to spend alone time licking his wounds.

“Dunno why you’d bother,” he muttered. There was no way Infinite was doing this out of the kindness of his heart—if he even had one, that was. Sonic doubted it.

“It’d be inconvenient if you died on us before we’re done with you,” Infinite explained, almost bored. “Now, stay still. I need to examine you.”

No, thanks, Sonic thought, but he had no real choice. He could only swallow his pride down and endure it as Infinite patted him down to check the severity of his wounds. It wasn’t comfortable at all, and Infinite didn’t try to make it any easier on him. In fact, Sonic swore it was on purpose when Infinite traced a cut here or thumbed a bruise there with enough firmness to make Sonic shudder and hiss through his teeth. It was even worse when Infinite disinfected the open wounds; the antiseptic he used hurt like hell. It took Sonic all his strength not to cry or whimper, ears pressed flat against his head and tail curled between his legs. He could only sigh in relief when Infinite finally taped the last dressing into place and then packed everything back into the first-aid kit.

Infinite looked him over one last time. There was, for once, a hint of amusement in his cold voice as he said: “Bandages suit you well, hedgehog.”

“Freak,” Sonic snapped, on reflex. His shoulders stiffened immediately as he expected to be hit for talking back, but Infinite didn’t budge. He didn’t even blink. The insult bounced right off him.

That made Sonic more uncomfortable than he wanted to admit.

“You should be thankful,” Infinite said, instead. “The doctor wouldn’t be as willing to treat you like this. He’d much rather leave you to rot.”

You’re the bastard who beat me up in the first place, Sonic thought angrily. He clung to the anger—it was a good sign. It meant he still had fight in him. It meant he could still win.

He chose to glare at Infinite, in lieu of a verbal reply, chin raised and jaw set.

For a moment, it was tense, as Sonic waited for Infinite to make his move. Instead, Infinite grabbed the first-aid kit and stood up, his bushy tail flicking languidly behind him. Apathetic. Disinterested.

“Be as defiant as you want,” Infinite said, turning to leave. “It’ll only make it more satisfying when you finally give in.”

Sonic didn’t want him to have the last word, but he couldn’t do much more than growl lowly while watching Infinite walk away. It wasn’t until he lost track of the sound of Infinite’s footsteps amid the buzzing lights and whirring engines that Sonic finally relaxed, letting himself sink back against the wall and curl his bandaged legs up into his chest.

The wait for his rescue was going to take longer than he’d first thought.