#seargent simian

[vendettaspathfanfic]

(Art by @ceoofdestructix who gave me permission to use it for this post)

As some of y’all may know it was recently @ceoofdestructix ‘s bday!

I thought they might like a little snippet ft Ursula as a present bc we have talked about how Mama Bear she is and how Ursimian is elite djdhdh and if you too are a fan of Ursula you may like this lil story i wrote!

I call it “Warmth”

A persistent, uncomfortable dryness plagued Ursula's throat, acting as a relentless barrier against the slumber her body craved. The solution seemed simple enough: rise from the bed, shuffle to the vending machine she had noted earlier just a few feet from their motel room's door, and procure a bottle of cold water. However, aside from the weariness that weighed heavily on her eyelids, she was drawn in by the gentle pull from Simon's arm around her waist, as he subconsciously yearned for the cooling presence her ice abilities provided. The late July heat was oppressive, the motel air conditioning was weak, and her powers were a welcome respite.

Ursula, who typically shunned the confining embrace of blankets due to her natural aversion to heat, found herself making an exception on this particular night. The usual discomfort from warmth was absent; instead, Simon's proximity and the protective arm he had lovingly draped over her were unexpectedly comforting. His body heat, mingled with her cooler aura, created a harmonious balance that felt just right.

Embraced by this soothing equilibrium, Ursula weighed her discomfort against the serene moment and chose to disregard her thirst. She made the decision to shut her eyes once more, seeking solace in the cocoon of Simon's warm hold.

Hissssss!

Wait, what the fuck was that?

The mysterious sound ceased as quickly as it had begun, only to be interrupted by her eyes snapping open. She was on the verge of dismissing it as a figment of her half-asleep imagination when it pierced the quiet a second time. This interruption was immediately followed by a shrill "fuck!" The voice was unmistakably that of Toxic, their precociously profane four-year-old companion. What could she possibly be doing awake at this hour?

With a delicate touch, Ursula attempted to extricate herself from Simon's embrace, aiming not to rouse him from his slumber. Unfortunately, even her gentlest efforts could not prevent him from stirring.

“Cm’back…” His voice was a sleepy murmur, muffled by the pillow, his eyelids remaining firmly closed.

“I’ll be right back,” She responded softly, careful to soothe him as she straightened her tank top and prepared to investigate the commotion. “You sleep.”

Simon's response was nothing more than a sleepy grunt, his hand instinctively reaching up to rub the sleep from his eyes. In that moment, another hiss cut through the air, followed immediately by a louder, more frustrated "Fuck!"

“God damn it…” Simon's voice was tinged with exasperation as he let out a deep sigh, realizing it was Toxic once again testing the limits of his patience.

Ursula cautiously peered through the slats of the blinds, her gaze falling upon Toxic seated before the door, encircled by an array of spray paint cans, her arms crossed in frustration, head drooping.

“Aww, lil gremlin…” Ursula's voice softened with compassion, her heartstrings tugged by the sight of Toxic in distress. After ensuring that everyone in the room was decent, Ursula pulled the door open, causing Toxic to startle, a can rolling off her lap in the process.

“Oh, sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you, lil gal!” Ursula's tone remained gentle and soothing. “I’m just checkin’ on ye! What’s wrong?”

“I’m trying to do pictures but nothing’s coming out,” Toxic responded, gesturing towards a can with its lid missing.

“No luck? Did you give the can a good shake?” Ursula inquired, bending down to retrieve the can.

“Where did you get spray paint?” Simon interjected, a note of exasperation evident in his voice as he leaned against the doorway, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Toxic fidgeted with one of her pigtails and absentmindedly tugged at a loose thread on her t-shirt, her voice filled with hesitation as she confessed, “Off the floor. I didn’t shake it, I just wanna draw.”

“You gotta shake it up first if you wanna draw,” Ursula explained with a lighthearted chuckle, vigorously agitating the can in her hand.

“Why?” Toxic inquired, mimicking the action by shaking another can.

“It helps mix the paint so it comes out right,” Ursula clarified. “What do you wanna draw?”

Without a moment's hesitation, Toxic pointed directly at Simon, her little blue tail wagging with enthusiasm.

“R-really?” Simon's heart skipped a beat at the unexpected gesture, though he maintained a stoic facade in response.

“Sergeant Wussypants? Well, you’re the artist,” Ursula quipped with a smile, playfully teasing Simon and earning an eye roll in response.

Toxic took the brown can from Ursula's hand and approached a nearby wall, where she began crafting a large vertical oval.

“Yep, make him great big like that. He’s a tall drink of water,” Ursula remarked with a comedic flair, observing the tiny artist at work.

“He’s not water. He’s a fuckin’ gorilla,” Toxic retorted as she started to fill in the oval with color, eliciting a burst of laughter from Ursula.

“Ah, you've got me there,” Ursula conceded amidst her laughter, casting a sideways glance to catch Simon on the brink of laughter himself. “Careful there, you might crack a smile for once.”

“At what?” Simon replied smugly, his arms folded in defiance.

“Oh, you know what I mean. Or maybe you don’t,” she teased, grabbing a blue paint can. “I’m going to sketch a certain cheeky little girl I know.” With that, she began spray painting a small blue stick figure.

As Toxic reached for the green paint to add the finishing touches to Simon's makeshift portrait, her attention was captured by the figure Ursula had drawn. “Is that me?”

“Mm-hmm,” Ursula affirmed with a nod, her tone warm. “Do you like it?”

“Yeah, I wanna be dressed in green,” Toxic replied eagerly, immersing herself in the task at hand.

“Alright, just pass me the green when you’re ready,” Ursula replied graciously.

After finishing her part with the green spray paint, Toxic handed the can to Ursula and then picked up a white one, extending it towards Simon. “You make Ursula.”

“Listen, kiddo, I don’t-” Simon began, his hand raised in a gesture of refusal.

“You heard her,” Ursula interjected, shooting Simon a pointed look.

With a heavy sigh, Simon accepted the can from Toxic, shook it, and hastily spray painted a rudimentary portrait of Ursula.

Once the trio had completed their impromptu artwork, Toxic couldn't contain her excitement. “We’re done!”

“And it's absolutely perfect!” Ursula exclaimed, her face lighting up with joy as she snapped a picture of the creation with her phone.

“Alright,” Simon said with a faint smile, “time for bed.”

“I can’t sleep,” Toxic groaned, crossing her arms. “It's too hot.”

“It is indeed a warm summer night,” Ursula acknowledged. “But you know my ice powers can help cool things down for you?”

“Really?” Toxic's ears perked up with interest.

“Of course. Head on into our room, and I'll be right there,” Ursula reassured. “Would you both like some water?”

After receiving unanimous agreement for water, Ursula procured three bottles from the vending machine and returned to distribute them.

“Thank you,” Simon offered quietly before turning to the young hedgehog with an expectant look. “What do you say to her, Toxic?”

“Thanks,” Toxic muttered as she struggled to twist open her water bottle.

“You're welcome,” Ursula replied warmly, assisting Toxic in opening the bottle before settling into an armchair in the corner of the room. As she took a sip of her own water, a sigh of relief escaped her lips as the cool liquid trickled down her throat. “Come sit on my lap.”

Toxic nodded in response and climbed onto Ursula's lap, snuggling close to her and finding instant relief in the coolness of her fur.

“Feeling better now?” Ursula inquired softly, running her fingers through Toxic's soft hair with a gentle touch.

Toxic nodded, her eyelids growing heavy as a sense of peace and comfort enveloped her both physically and emotionally.

Ursula cradled the child lovingly, holding her close as she observed Toxic gradually succumb to the embrace of sleep.

Although Ursula typically avoided warmth, there were moments when it held a special significance for her. In this instance, it was the simple, heartfelt connection with a little girl who sought solace in her arms.

The profound sense of comfort in this shared embrace eventually lulled Ursula into a peaceful slumber right there in the armchair.

Simon lay on top of the covers, quietly observing the tender scene before him, understanding the importance of allowing this moment to unfold undisturbed. A gentle smile graced his lips as he gazed at the two figures nestled together in sleep, and he whispered to himself, “Goodnight, girls…”

#ceoofdestructix #sonic archie comics #archie sonic #sonic archie #sonic comics #sonic the hedgehog #simon simian #seargent simian #sgt. simian #sergeant simian #sgt simian #ursula the polar bear #sonic oc art #sonic oc #sonic original character #original character #HAPPY LATE BIRTHDAY BUDDY #IM SO HAPPY YOU LIKED THIS #FOLLOW CEOOFDESTRUCTIX OR YOU WILL NEVER DRINK WATER AGAIN

[storykeeper-wra]

Be careful what you wish for,

you never know how it will come true... Tonight’s tale speaks of such things. A cursed hand and a mother wanting her child.

The Storykeeper settled in the large tent of the Argent Crusade’s jousting grounds. The winds of Icecrown whipping about outside as even the fire within couldn’t keep the full chill at bay.

Without, the night was cold and wet, but in the small parlor of a home the blinds were drawn and the fire burned brightly. Father and son were at chess; the former, who possessed ideas about the game involving radical chances, putting his king into such sharp and unnecessary perils that it even provoked comment from the white-haired old lady knitting placidly by the fire.

"Hark at the wind," said Mr. White, who, having seen a fatal mistake after it was too late, was amiably desirous of preventing his son from seeing it.

"I'm listening," said the latter grimly surveying the board as he stretched out his hand. "Check."

"I should hardly think that he's come tonight, " said his father, with his hand poised over the board.

"Mate," replied the son.

"That's the worst of living so far out," balled Mr. White with sudden and unlooked-for violence; "Of all the beastly, slushy, out of the way places to live in, this is the worst. Path's a bog, and the road's a torrent. I don't know what people are thinking about. I suppose because only two houses in the road are left, they think it doesn't matter."

"Never mind, dear," said his wife soothingly; "perhaps you'll win the next one."

Mr. White looked up sharply, just in time to intercept a knowing glance between mother and son. the words died away on his lips, and he hid a guilty grin in his thin grey beard.

"There he is," said Herbert White as the gate banged to loudly and heavy footsteps came toward the door.

The old man rose with hospitable haste and opening the door, was heard condoling with the new arrival. The new arrival also condoled with himself, so that Mrs. White said, "Tut, tut!" and coughed gently as her husband entered the room followed by a tall, burly man, beady of eye and rubicund of visage.

"Sergeant-Major Morris, " he said, introducing him.

The Sergeant-Major took hands and taking the proffered seat by the fire, watched contentedly as his host got out whiskey and tumblers and stood a small copper kettle on the fire.

At the third glass, his eyes got brighter, and he began to talk, the little family circle regarding with eager interest this visitor from distant parts, as he squared his broad shoulders in the chair and spoke of wild scenes and doughty deeds; of wars and plagues and strange peoples.

"Twenty-one years of it," said Mr. White, nodding at his wife and son. "When he went away he was a slip of a youth in the warehouse. Now, look at him."

"He doesn't look to have taken much harm," said Mrs. White politely.

"I'd like to go to Northrend myself," said the old man, just to look around a bit, you know."

"Better where you are," said the Sergeant-Major, shaking his head. He put down the empty glass and sighing softly, shook it again.

"I should like to see those old temples and fakirs and jugglers," said the old man. "what was that that you started telling me the other day about a monkey's paw or something, Morris?"

"Nothing." said the soldier hastily. "Leastways, nothing worth hearing."

"Monkey's paw?" said Mrs. White curiously.

"Well, it's just a bit of what you might call magic, perhaps." said the Sergeant-Major off-handedly.

His three listeners leaned forward eagerly. The visitor absent-mindedly put his empty glass to his lips and then set it down again. His host filled it for him again.

"To look at," said the Sergeant-Major, fumbling in his pocket, "it's just an ordinary little paw, dried to a mummy."

He took something out of his pocket and proffered it. Mrs. White drew back with a grimace, but her son, taking it, examined it curiously.

"And what is there special about it?" inquired Mr. White as he took it from his son, and having examined it, placed it upon the table.

"It had a spell put on it by an old Fakir," said the Sergeant-Major, "a very holy man. He wanted to show that fate ruled people's lives and that those who interfered with it did so to their sorrow. He put a spell on it so that three separate men could each have three wishes from it."

His manners were so impressive that his hearers were conscious that their light laughter had jarred somewhat.

"Well, why don't you have three, sir?" said Herbert White cleverly.

The soldier regarded him the way that middle age is wont to regard presumptuous youth."I have," he said quietly, and his blotchy face whitened.

"And did you really have the three wishes granted?" asked Mrs. White.

"I did," said the sergeant-major, and his glass tapped against his strong teeth.

"And has anybody else wished?" persisted the old lady.

"The first man had his three wishes. Yes," was the reply, "I don't know what the first two were, but the third was for death. That's how I got the paw."

His tones were so grave that a hush fell upon the group.

"If you've had your three wishes it's no good to you now then Morris," said the old man at last. "What do you keep it for?"

The soldier shook his head. "Fancy I suppose," he said slowly." I did have some idea of selling it, but I don't think I will. It has caused me enough mischief already. Besides, people won't buy. They think it's a fairy tale, some of them; and those who do think anything of it want to try it first and pay me afterward."

"If you could have another three wishes," said the old man, eyeing him keenly," would you have them?"

"I don't know," said the other. "I don't know."

He took the paw, and dangling it between his forefinger and thumb, suddenly threw it upon the fire. White, with a slight cry, stooped down and snatched it off.

"Better let it burn," said the soldier solemnly.

"If you don't want it, Morris," said the other, "give it to me."

"I won't." said his friend doggedly. "I threw it on the fire. If you keep it, don't blame me for what happens. Pitch it on the fire like a sensible man."

The other shook his head and examined his possession closely. "How do you do it?" he inquired.

"Hold it up in your right hand, and wish aloud," said the Sergeant-Major, "But I warn you of the consequences."

"Sounds like the 'Uldum Nights'", said Mrs. White, as she rose and began to set the supper. "Don't you think you might wish for four pairs of hands for me."

Her husband drew the talisman from his pocket, and all three burst into laughter as the Seargent-Major, with a look of alarm on his face, caught him by the arm.

"If you must wish," he said gruffly, "Wish for something sensible."

Mr. White dropped it back in his pocket, and placing chairs, motioned his friend to the table. In the business of supper the talisman was partly forgotten, and afterward, the three sat listening in an enthralled fashion to a second installment of the soldier's adventures in Northrend.

"If the tale about the monkey's paw is not more truthful than those he has been telling us," said Herbert, as the door closed behind their guest, just in time to catch the last train, "We shan't make much out of it."

"Did you give anything for it, father?" inquired Mrs. White, regarding her husband closely.

"A trifle," said he, coloring slightly, "He didn't want it, but I made him take it. And he pressed me again to throw it away."

"Likely," said Herbert, with pretended horror. "Why, we're going to be rich, and famous, and happy. Wish to be an emperor, father, to begin with; then you can't be henpecked."

He darted around the table, pursued by the maligned Mrs. White armed with an antimacassar.

Mr. White took the paw from his pocket and eyed it dubiously. "I don't know what to wish for, and that's a fact," he said slowly, "It seems to me I've got all I want."

"If you only cleared the house, you'd be quite happy, wouldn't you!" said Herbert, with his hand on his shoulder. "Well, wish for two hundred pounds, then; that'll just do it."

His father, smiling shamefacedly at his own credulity, held up the talisman, as his son, with a solemn face, somewhat marred by a wink at his mother, sat down and struck a few impressive chords.

"I wish for two hundred pounds," said the old man distinctly.

A fine crash from the piano greeted his words, interrupted by a shuddering cry from the old man. His wife and son ran toward him.

"It moved," he cried, with a glance of disgust at the object as it lay on the floor. "As I wished, it twisted in my hand like a snake."

"Well, I don't see the money," said his son, as he picked it up and placed it on the table, "and I bet I never shall."

"It must have been your fancy, father," said his wife, regarding him anxiously.

He shook his head. "Never mind, though; there's no harm done, but it gave me a shock all the same."

They sat down by the fire again while the two men finished their pipes. Outside, the wind was higher than ever, as the old man started nervously at the sound of a door banging upstairs. A silence unusual and depressing settled on all three, which lasted until the old couple rose to retire for the rest of the night.

"I expect you'll find the cash tied up in a big bag in the middle of your bed," said Herbert, as he bade them good night, " and something horrible squatting on top of your wardrobe watching you as you pocket your ill-gotten gains."

He sat alone in the darkness, gazing at the dying fire, and seeing faces in it. The last was so horrible and so simian that he gazed at it in amazement. It got so vivid that, with a little uneasy laugh, he felt on the table for a glass containing a little water to throw over it. His hand grasped the monkey's paw, and with a little shiver he wiped his hand on his coat and went up to bed.

In the brightness of the wintry sun next morning as it streamed over the breakfast table, he laughed at his fears. There was an air of prosaic wholesomeness about the room which it had lacked on the previous night, and the dirty, shriveled little paw was pitched on the side-board with a carelessness which betokened no great belief in its virtues.

"I suppose all old soldiers are the same," said Mrs. White. "The idea of our listening to such nonsense! How could wishes be granted in these days? And if they could, how could two hundred pounds hurt you, father?"

"Might drop on his head from the sky," said the frivolous Herbert.

"Morris said the things happened so naturally," said his father, "That you might if you so wished to attribute it to coincidence."

"Well don't break into the money before I come back," said Herbert as he rose from the table. "I'm afraid it'll turn you into a mean, avaricious man, and we shall have to disown you."

His mother laughed, and following him to the door, watched him down the road; and returning to the breakfast table, was very happy at the expense of her husband's credulity. All of which did not prevent her from scurrying to the door at the postman's knock, nor prevent her from referring somewhat shortly to retired Sergeant-Majors of bibulous habits when she found that the post brought a tailor's bill.

"Herbert will have some more of his funny remarks, I expect, when he comes home," she said as they sat at dinner.

"I dare say," said Mr. White, pouring himself out some beer; "but for all that, the thing moved in my hand; that I'll swear to."

"You thought it did," said the old lady soothingly.

"I say it did," replied the other. "There was no thought about it; I had just - What's the matter?"

His wife made no reply. She was watching the mysterious movements of a man outside, who, peering in an undecided fashion at the house, appeared to be trying to make up his mind to enter. In mental connexion with the two hundred pounds, she noticed that the stranger was well dressed, and wore a silk hat of glossy newness. Three times he paused at the gate and then walked on again. The fourth time he stood with his hand upon it, and then with sudden resolution flung it open and walked up the path. Mrs. White at the same moment placed her hands behind her, and hurriedly unfastening the strings of her apron, put that useful article of apparel beneath the cushion of her chair.

She brought the stranger, who seemed ill at ease, into the room. He gazed at her furtively and listened in a preoccupied fashion as the old lady apologized for the appearance of the room, and her husband's coat, a garment which he usually reserved for the garden. She then waited as patiently as her sex would permit for him to broach his business, but he was at first strangely silent.

"I - was asked to call," he said at last, and stooped and picked a piece of cotton from his trousers. "I come from 'Maw and Meggins.' "

The old lady started. "Is anything the matter?" she asked breathlessly. "Has anything happened to Herbert? What is it? What is it?

Her husband interposed. "There there mother," he said hastily. "Sit down, and don't jump to conclusions. You've not brought bad news, I'm sure sir," and eyed the other wistfully.

"I'm sorry - " began the visitor.

"Is he hurt?" demanded the mother wildly.

The visitor bowed in assent."Badly hurt," he said quietly, "but he is not in any pain."

"Oh thank God!" said the old woman, clasping her hands. "Thank God for that! Thank - "

She broke off as the sinister meaning of the assurance dawned on her and she saw the awful confirmation of her fears in the others averted face. She caught her breath, and turning to her slower-witted husband, laid her trembling hand on his. There was a long silence.

"He was caught in the machinery," said the visitor at length in a low voice.

"Caught in the machinery," repeated Mr. White, in a dazed fashion,"yes."

He sat staring out the window, and taking his wife's hand between his own, pressed it as he had been wont to do in their old courting days nearly forty years before.

"He was the only one left to us," he said, turning gently to the visitor. "It is hard."

The other coughed, and rising, walked slowly to the window. " The firm wishes me to convey their sincere sympathy with you in your great loss," he said, without looking around. "I beg that you will understand I am only their servant and merely obeying orders."

There was no reply; the old woman’s face was white, her eyes staring, and her breath inaudible; on the husband's face was a look such as his friend the sergeant might have carried into his first action.

"I was to say that Maw and Meggins disclaim all responsibility," continued the other. "They admit no liability at all, but in consideration of your son's services, they wish to present you with a certain sum as compensation."

Mr. White dropped his wife's hand, and rising to his feet, gazed with a look of horror at his visitor. His dry lips shaped the words, "How much?"

"Two hundred pounds," was the answer.

Unconscious of his wife's shriek, the old man smiled faintly, put out his hands like a sightless man, and dropped, a senseless heap, to the floor.

In the huge new cemetery, some two miles distant, the old people buried their dead and came back to the house steeped in shadows and silence. It was all over so quickly that at first, they could hardly realize it, and remained in a state of expectation as though of something else to happen - something else which was to lighten this load, too heavy for old hearts to bear.

But the days passed, and expectations gave way to resignation - the hopeless resignation of the old, sometimes miscalled apathy. Sometimes they hardly exchanged a word, for now, they had nothing to talk about, and their days were long to weariness.

It was about a week after that the old man, waking suddenly in the night, stretched out his hand and found himself alone. The room was in darkness, and the sound of subdued weeping came from the window. He raised himself in bed and listened.

"Come back," he said tenderly. "You will be cold."

"It is colder for my son," said the old woman, and wept afresh.

The sounds of her sobs died away on his ears. The bed was warm, and his eyes heavy with sleep. He dozed fitfully and then slept until a sudden wild cry from his wife awoke him with a start.

"THE PAW!" she cried wildly. "THE MONKEY'S PAW!"

He started up in alarm. "Where? Where is it? What’s the matter?"

She came stumbling across the room toward him. "I want it," she said quietly. "You've not destroyed it?"

"It's in the parlor, on the bracket," he replied, marveling. "Why?"

She cried and laughed together, and bending over, kissed his cheek.

"I only just thought of it," she said hysterically. "Why didn't I think of it before? Why didn't you think of it?"

"Think of what?" he questioned.

"The other two wishes," she replied rapidly. "We've only had one."

"Was not that enough?" he demanded fiercely.

"No," she cried triumphantly; "We'll have one more. Go down and get it quickly, and wish our boy alive again."

The man sat in bed and flung the bedclothes from his quaking limbs."Good God, you are mad!" he cried aghast. "Get it," she panted; "get it quickly, and wish - Oh my boy, my boy!"

Her husband struck a match and lit the candle. "Get back to bed he said unsteadily. "You don't know what you are saying."

"We had the first wish granted," said the old woman, feverishly; "why not the second?"

"A coincidence," stammered the old man.

"Go get it and wish," cried his wife, quivering with excitement.

The old man turned and regarded her, and his voice shook. "He has been dead ten days, and besides he - I would not tell you else, but - I could only recognize him by his clothing. If he was too terrible for you to see then, how now?"

"Bring him back," cried the old woman, and dragged him towards the door. "Do you think I fear the child I have nursed?"

He went down in the darkness, and felt his way to the parlor, and then to the mantlepiece. The talisman was in its place, and a horrible fear that the unspoken wish might bring his mutilated son before him ere he could escape from the room seized up on him, and he caught his breath as he found that he had lost the direction of the door. His brow cold with sweat, he felt his way around the table and groped along the wall until he found himself in the small passage with the unwholesome thing in his hand.

Even his wife's face seemed changed as he entered the room. It was white and expectant, and to his fears seemed to have an unnatural look upon it. He was afraid of her.

"WISH!" she cried in a strong voice.

"It is foolish and wicked," he faltered.

"WISH!" repeated his wife.

He raised his hand. "I wish my son alive again."

The talisman fell to the floor, and he regarded it fearfully. Then he sank trembling into a chair as the old woman, with burning eyes, walked to the window and raised the blind.

He sat until he was chilled with the cold, glancing occasionally at the figure of the old woman peering through the window. The candle-end, which had burned below the rim of the china candlestick, was throwing pulsating shadows on the ceiling and walls until with a flicker larger than the rest, it expired. The old man, with an unspeakable sense of relief at the failure of the talisman, crept back to his bed, and a minute afterward the old woman came silently and apathetically beside him.

Neither spoke but sat silently listening to the ticking of the clock. A stair creaked, and a squeaky mouse scurried noisily through the wall. The darkness was oppressive, and after lying for some time screwing up his courage, he took the box of matches, and striking one, went downstairs for a candle.

At the foot of the stairs the match went out, and he paused to strike another; and at the same moment a knock came so quiet and stealthy as to be scarcely audible, sounded on the front door.

The matches fell from his hand and spilled in the passage. He stood motionless, his breath suspended until the knock was repeated. Then he turned and fled swiftly back to his room, and closed the door behind him. A third knock sounded through the house.

"WHAT’S THAT?" cried the old woman, starting up.

"A rat," said the old man in shaking tones - "a rat. It passed me on the stairs."

His wife sat up in bed listening. A loud knock resounded through the house.

"It's Herbert!"

She ran to the door, but her husband was before her, and catching her by the arm, held her tightly.

"What are you going to do?" he whispered hoarsely.

"It's my boy; it's Herbert!" she cried, struggling mechanically. "I forgot it was two miles away. What are you holding me for? Let go. I must open the door."

"For God's sake don't let it in," cried the old man, trembling.

"You're afraid of your own son," she cried struggling. "Let me go. I'm coming, Herbert; I'm coming."

There was another knock and another. The old woman with a sudden wrench broke free and ran from the room. Her husband followed to the landing and called after her appealingly as she hurried downstairs. He heard the chain rattle back and the bolt is drawn slowly and stiffly from the socket. Then the old woman’s voice strained and panting.

"The bolt," she cried loudly. "Come down. I can't reach it."

But her husband was on his hands and knees groping wildly on the floor in search of the paw. If only he could find it before the thing outside got in. A perfect fusillade of knocks reverberated through the house, and he heard the scraping of a chair as his wife put it down in the passage against the door. He heard the creaking of the bolt as it came slowly back, and at the same moment he found the monkey's paw, and frantically breathed his third and last wish.

The knocking ceased suddenly, although the echoes of it were still in the house. He heard the chair drawn back, and the door opened. A cold wind rushed up the staircase, and a long loud wail of disappointment and misery from his wife gave him the courage to run down to her side, and then to the gate beyond. The street lamp flickering opposite shone on a quiet and deserted road.

[Source]

#[Storykeeper's Tales of Terror] #Day 11 #It's long

[robotropoliszone]

From Sonic Universe #14

#Sonic The Hedgehog #Comic #Archie #Fiona Fox #Seargent Simian

[vendettaspathfanfic]

Chapter Three

(Chapter Index)

(Previous)

(Next)

The concept of a reunion between long-lost siblings is typically portrayed as an emotionally charged moment, filled with overwhelming joy, tearful embraces, and a bittersweet blend of longing and relief. It is often seen as a heartwarming occasion, a chance to mend the bonds that were torn apart by cruel fate.

But for Scourge, the reunion with his sister was anything but idyllic.

Aside from Tara’s aggressive and somewhat feral behavior, her unexpected reappearance in his life has thrown a wrench into his plans of rising back to the power that was stolen from him.

Instead of making strides towards regaining his lost supremacy, he found himself routinely reaching out for aspirin, trying to soothe the throbbing headache brought on by yet another of Tara's explosive fits of rage. The trigger for this latest outburst had been Fiona's seemingly innocent attempt to persuade Tara to exchange her foul-smelling, worn-out clothing for something fresh and clean.

“I DON’T WANT THEM CLOTHES BITCHSHIT!!!!” Tara's voice echoed off the walls, her arms folded across her chest in a stubborn show of defiance.

Fiona, visibly exasperated, retorted, "This place is already rank as it is, it hardly needs your stinky clothes adding to the miasma. C'mon, there's absolutely nothing wrong with the ones I'm offering."

"I WANT MY CLOTHES!!! SCREW THOSE ONES!!!" Tara's retort was filled with such vehemence that she punctuated her words by stomping her foot hard on the ground, further escalating the tension in the room.

"Two days of enduring this," Lightning growled under his breath, snatching the bottle of aspirin from Scourge's hand and hastily swallowing a much-needed dose. With a sigh of exasperation, he couldn't help but blurt out, "Good god, she makes Flying look like a monk." His offhand remark struck a nerve with Flying, who took offense to the comparison.

“Seriously, we can’t go on with the constant tantrums. We got work to do.” Simon chimed in, his voice a mix of frustration and concern.

Scourge, deep in thought, furrowed his brows as he pondered potential solutions to their predicament. Suddenly, his face brightened with a spark of inspiration.

Swiftly turning his head towards Predator, he instructed, "Go check the surrounding buildings to see if any of them have a hose we can use."

"Consider it done, boss," Predator responded with a nod, swiftly making his way outside to take flight in search of the much-needed hose.

Turning his attention to Flying, Scourge implored, "Flying, I need you to distract that little terror for a while. Fiona needs a break from the havoc."

A mischievous grin spread across Flying's face as he eagerly replied, "You can count on me-he-hee!" With that, he hopped behind Tara, waiting for the opportune moment. And just as Tara was in the midst of her tantrum, unleashing her fury upon the world, Flying let out a sudden, piercing yell that startled her, causing the young girl to lose her balance and tumble over in a mixture of surprise and confusion.

"HEY!" Tara’s initial shock quickly transformed into a blazing inferno of rage as she hollered back, her voice laced with fury and defiance. Her eyes narrowed, burning with intensity.

But Flying Frog was not one to be intimidated. With a burst of audacity, he matched her volume and ferocity, his own voice booming with equal force. Leaning in just inches away from her face, he unleashed a “HEY!” that reverberated through the room, his expression unyielding and his gaze unwavering.

Enveloped in a cloud of seething anger, the young girl's fury reached its peak. She released a prolonged, ear-piercing scream, its shrillness filling the air. Her head trembled with the intensity of her rage, and her widened eyes seemed to ignite with an inferno of wrath.

Unfazed by her outburst, Flying maintained his unyielding stance. His grin stretched from ear to ear, displaying an unsettling confidence. With relentless eye contact, he unleashed his own piercing scream, a sound so piercing and powerful that it prompted everyone present to instinctively cover their ears in a desperate attempt to shield themselves from the violent intensity of the noise.

Consumed by anger and frustration, Tara launched herself at Flying, her teeth bared and her nails poised to scratch.

However, luck was on his side as he narrowly evaded her attack, agilely hopping away with a gleeful, maniacal laughter reverberating through the room.

"Don't you dare!" Flying wagged his finger in a mock scolding manner, quickly hopping onto a nearby counter, out of her reach. Undeterred by her aggression, he taunted her once more, "I bite back-wack-snack!"

“I wouldn’t do that, Flying.” Fiona interjected, her voice tinged with weariness as she rubbed her temples, “she’s probably toxic.”

Embracing Fiona's warning, Tara adamantly declared, "Yeah, I'm toxic, bitch!" She stomped her feet defiantly, her gaze locked intensely on Flying Frog, readying herself for another attack.

Unfolding a mischievous plan, Flying Frog swiftly responded, his voice filled with playful enthusiasm. "Well, toxic little girl, how about we play a game of hide and seek? I'll hide, and you can count! Catch me if you can!" With that, he let out a boisterous holler and bounded out of the room, leaving Tara seething in anger, her desire for pursuit left unfulfilled.

“GET BACK HERE BITCHSHIT!!!” Tara shrieked furiously, her anger reaching new heights. She lunged forward, attempting to chase after Flying Frog, but her efforts were abruptly halted as a blur of green grabbed her ankle, suspending her in mid-air.

“Count. Those are the rules.” Scourge chimed in with a smug grin, relishing in his sister’s flailing rage as she struggled against her airborne restraint.

Infused with a surge of unrestrained fury, Tara emitted a primal, childlike roar of anger, punctuating her outburst by thrusting her hand forward and giving him the finger. The ring finger to be exact.

Scourge, upon witnessing this unconventional display of rebellion, was caught entirely off guard. The unexpected sight triggered his amusement, causing him to erupt into uncontrollable laughter. "Can't swear right or even give the finger? How the hell do we share the same DNA?" he exclaimed between fits of laughter, struggling to compose himself.

Ignoring Scourge's amusement, Tara's frustration intensified. She scowled and demanded, "Stop holding my foot!" Her attempts to wriggle free from her aerial confinement proved futile, as Scourge maintained his grip with unwavering determination.

"Count," Scourge insisted, his voice firm and resolute, his eyes narrowing with authority.

Reluctantly, Tara crossed her arms in a display of begrudging cooperation. With gritted teeth, she begrudgingly began to count, her voice infused with sullen determination. "One, two, three, four… Uhm…”

"Five," Simon interjected, rolling his eyes at the slight hiccup in Tara's counting.

"Five, six, seven, nine... eight... ten! Now let me go!" Tara demanded, her impatience palpable as she yearned to be released from her airborne captivity.

With a triumphant grin, Scourge acquiesced, dropping Tara to the ground, setting her free to embark on her quest to find Flying Frog.

"Good idea getting Flying to distract her," Fiona remarked with a sigh of relief, savoring the respite created by Tara's absence.

"Surprised my ears aren’t bleeding," Lightning grumbled, rubbing his finger in his ear, the echoes of the incessant screaming still reverberating in his senses, leaving his hearing temporarily muffled and distorted.

Scourge sighed, his face etched with a mix of frustration and concern. "Look, guys, I know it's a setback, but we won’t let it deter us. Once her infection is cleared up, we'll find an alternative place for her to stay," he explained, his voice laced with a touch of determination.

“She’s not staying?” Simon inquired calmly, although somewhat surprised he’d give up his own sister.

“‘Course not. We can’t be taking care of a kid with everything going on right now.” Scourge replied, his gaze drifting away momentarily, his fingers deftly adjusting the collar of his jacket. He reached into his pocket, retrieving a cigarette, and lit it with a flick of his lighter. The smoke curled upward, mirroring the uncertainty that hung in the air.

“Sure as hell not that one anyways.” Lightning scoffed, casting a disdainful glance in the direction Tara was last seen, his arms firmly crossed over his chest, “but who would take her?” He absently tapped his finger against his arm, lost in thought as he pondered the daunting question.

Just as the conversation was about to proceed, the group was abruptly interrupted by a raucous yell echoing through the corridor. "YOU'LL NEVER TAKE ME ALIVE!" The voice, unmistakably belonging to Flying, reverberated through the rooms, capturing their attention and causing a momentary pause.

Within seconds, Flying burst back into the room, his movements frenetic and accompanied by the scrambling of tiny feet. Tara, fueled by determination and a relentless spirit, jumped onto and clung tenaciously to his back as he hopped and maneuvered, desperately attempting to dislodge her grip.

"Fo-- For fuck's sake," Scourge muttered under his breath, a mixture of annoyance and concern etched across his face. Hastily, he extinguished his cigarette, his focus shifting to assisting Flying in prying the growling child off his back. However, their efforts were significantly hindered by Flying’s own erratic movements, as he continued to bounce up and down in an attempt to shake Tara loose.

"Hold still, you maniac!" Scourge growled in frustration, his voice tinged with exasperation as he wrestled with them both, attempting to pry Tara off despite the relentless motion.

The chaotic fiasco finally came to an end when Flying, propelled by a desperate surge of energy, leaped into the air with remarkable force. His powerful jump propelled him to such heights that his head made a forceful impact with the ceiling, resulting in a resounding thud that echoed throughout the room. Unable to maintain his balance, Flying came tumbling down to the ground, his descent accompanied by a deafening crash.

Fortunately, Tara had jumped down to safety just moments before Flying's body would have squashed her. As the dust settled, Flying, still feeling disoriented and dizzy from the fall, struggled to sit up. He wobbled unsteadily, attempting to regain his equilibrium, before turning his bleary gaze towards Tara. Speaking in an odd and delirious tone, his words were tinged with a mix of admiration and defeat. "You sure know how to play, kid," he muttered.

In a cruel twist of fate, as if the universe was playing a practical joke on him, debris from the damaged ceiling plummeted down, striking Flying's head and causing him to once again collapse flat on his back. A brief moment of stunned silence followed, only to be shattered by Fiona's stifled laughter. Her amusement quickly spread, and Scourge joined in, their laughter filling the room.

“He keeps-“ Fiona managed to gasp between fits of laughter, struggling to catch her breath. "He did it again!"

“Damn it, Fiona!” Scourge exclaimed, his amusement reaching an uncontrollable peak as he struggled to maintain composure.

Perplexed, Fiona retorted, her voice tinged with amusement, "What did I do? He knocked himself out!"

Scourge pointed at her and managed to get his words out between fits of laughter, "You made me laugh!"

"But it was funny!" Fiona defended herself, struggling to contain her own laughter. " I mean, come on, he's practically a living cartoon!"

Their infectious laughter soon spread to Lightning, who couldn't help but join in the mirthful chaos. Even Simon, the typically stoic and somewhat gruff member of their team, couldn't fight off the urge to allow a few muffled chuckles to escape from his lips.

What astounded them even more, however, was the completely unforeseen response from the normally bad-tempered and irritable little girl they had the misfortune of being stuck with. Tara, to everyone's shock, also fell victim to the infectious laughter.

As soon as the others became distracted, their attention drawn to her uncharacteristically jovial demeanor, and their laughter eventually faded, Tara's own laughter quickly died down. She crossed her arms over her chest in a defiant posture and raised a single eyebrow in a mixture of confusion and curiosity, silently questioning why everyone had reacted so surprisingly to her joining in the laughter.

An awkward tension filled the room, the air becoming thick with silence. This silence was abruptly shattered when Predator re-entered the room, having successfully completed his task. His facial expression remained stoic, betraying no emotion as he surveyed the peculiar scene before him - the entire group standing around aimlessly, with the exception of the unconscious Flying, who lay sprawled out amongst the rubble on the floor.

Shattering the lingering silence, Predator voiced his inquiry in a calm and emotionless tone, hinting only at a mild curiosity, "Should I ask?"

Fiona waved off the question dismissively, her tone nonchalant. "Nah, he'll be alright. Hey, did you find somewhere nearby with a hose?"

"Yes, ma'am. There's one just down the block. I'II lead the way," Predator responded dutifully.

"Cool" Scourge nodded approvingly, diverting his attention to Tara. "Hey, Tara-"

"No! I wanna be named Toxic! Like she said!" Tara interrupted, demanding to be addressed by the insult Fiona had used earlier.

With an indifferent shrug, Scourge easily accepted the sudden name change.

"Alright, Toxic. This is your last chance to put on the clothes Fiona got for you." In response, Toxic emitted a low, menacing growl, baring her teeth in defiance. She extended her ring finger in Scourge's direction, her eyes boring into his with a cold, icy stare.

"Suit yourself," Scourge replied nonchalantly, his shoulders rising and falling in a dismissive shrug. He chose the safest and least repugnant method of grabbing Toxic by the ankle, preventing her from launching an attack on him. Ignoring her loud and indignant protests, he turned to Simon, seeking his help. "Hey, would you mind holding her up while we hose her down? You might get wet."

Simon wrinkled his nose in disgust, reminded of the lingering smell of the little girl’s filthy clothes. "I don't mind, as long as it gets rid of the stench."

Scourge, satisfied with Simon's agreement, nodded in affirmation. "Great. Fiona, grab the clothes and some towels. Predator, lead the way."

“Have fun,” Lightning sneered quietly at the departing group.

Toxic let out a furious roar, her voice echoing through the apathetic slums as she screamed, "DON'T YOU FUCKASSING DARE." before her protests escalated to an even higher decibel. Despite her fierce resistance, Scourge, Fiona, and Simon, led by Predator, remained undeterred, paying little heed to her outbursts as they steadfastly pressed forward with their plan.

Scourge, seizing the moment, offered Toxic a casual lesson in swearing. "Actually, it's 'don't you fucking dare.’ 'Fuckass' isn't really a commonly used swear word, especially when you're trying to emphasize something."

Toxic's eyes clouded with confusion as she squinted, attempting to understand the unfamiliar terminology that Scourge was introducing. The complexity of his explanation was a little too much for her four-year-old brain to comprehend.

Scourge, sporting a patronizing grin, dismissed her confusion. "You'll figure it out eventually. The bad swearing is becoming more irritating than funny, so I'll make sure you learn the right way to do it."

"Right over here," Predator gestured, his gaze shifting towards a grime-filled alleyway. The group followed in his footsteps, stepping cautiously over scattered debris as they ventured down the grungy, narrow passage. Taking a sharp left, they arrived in the secluded back parking lot of a dilapidated store. Against the graffiti-smeared wall, a hose hung haphazardly, ready to be put to use.

“IMMA KILL YOU!” Toxic’s voice once again erupted in anger, her frustration palpable as she fiercely struggled to break free from Scourge's grip on her ankle. With a sharp glare, she focused her attention on the hose. The prospect of being forcefully hosed down, an act she vehemently opposed, fueled her fury.

Scourge, unperturbed by Toxic's defiance, let out a dismissive scoff, shaking his head in mild amusement at her futile attempts to resist. Turning his attention to Simon, he calmly instructed him to, "Take the little gremlin.”

Without a moment's hesitation, Simon complied, his large fingers enveloping Toxic's tiny hands as he lifted her up, suspending the raging child in the air. Meanwhile, Fiona swiftly moved into action, retrieving the nozzle and positioning herself beside in front of Simon and Toxic, ready to unleash a torrent of water.

Toxic's enraged demands and menacing threats were met with resolute determination from the group, their focus unwavering as they pressed on with their mission. Scourge, hunkering down beside the spigot, deftly adjusted the settings to achieve the highest possible water pressure. With a twist of the lever, a powerful surge of water erupted from the hose, spewing forth with forceful intensity from the nozzle.

Fiona, positioned strategically, took charge of directing the torrential spray. With meticulous precision, she aimed the gushing stream at Toxic's dirt-covered form, meticulously washing away the layers of grime that stubbornly clung to her body and clothes. As the water cascaded over Toxic, the accumulated filth began to dissolve, forming muddy droplets that dripped off her, leaving behind streaks of brown residue on the ground.

Scourge's face twisted in disgust as he muttered “gross,” under his breath, his voice laced with a cringe-worthy tone. The sight of the runny grime on Toxic's body was enough to elicit a visceral reaction from him.

Fiona, sharing his sentiment, wrinkled her nose in distaste as she chimed in with a hint of disdain, "You should be thanking me. No wonder you got so sick, you're disgusting."

Toxic, now a screeching blur of blue fury, continued to unleash her verbal wrath upon them. Scourge growled low in his throat, finding it almost unfathomable that such an obnoxious and unruly child shared his own DNA.

After a thorough dousing, the water cascading off Toxic's body had transformed from murky brown to a clear stream, indicating that she was finally in a much more hygienic state.

"Alright, I think we've managed to clean her up as best as we can for now. Turn off the hose," Fiona declared, a sense of accomplishment evident in her voice.

With a decisive twist of the nozzle, Scourge shut off the flow of water. He then walked over to his fuming and swearing sister, his frustration with her escalating with each passing moment. Ever since they had stumbled across each other, Toxic had become an absolute nightmare to deal with. She exhibited violent behavior, displayed an incessantly bratty attitude, and emitted ear-piercingly loud screams that grated on his nerves. He couldn't stand her. Interrupting her tirade, he shouted directly in her face, his own anger boiling over.

"Shut the fuck up! God, aren't you tired of your own bullshit by now!? We've been nicer than you deserve—which you won't find anywhere in this place—and yet, you...you bite us," he gestured, counting her actions on his fingers, "you scratch us, you kick us, you scream so fucking loud it makes us want to shove knives in our ears, and you do all of this when we haven't done a damn thing to you! Just..." Scourge clenched his shaking fists, his body trembling with pent-up rage. He walked towards a nearby wall, his clenched fist slamming into it, causing several bricks to dislodge and fall to the ground. A mixture of anger and pain radiated from him as he growled, “FUCK!” through gritted teeth, blood seeping through his glove from the force of the impact.

His piercing gaze shifted towards the motionless group, their silence accentuating the intensity of the moment. “What?” he sneered in disdain. With a contemptuous curl of his lip, he swiftly reached into his jacket, extracting a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. The metallic clinks echoed as he forcefully inserted a cigarette between his lips and ignited it with a resounding flick. A brief pause ensued as his eyes locked onto Fiona's, their gazes intertwining momentarily. Breaking the silence, he issued a terse command, his voice laced with authority, "Give ‘em the towels. I'll be back."

Weary and in need of respite, he sought solace on the edge of the sidewalk. Inhaling deeply, he drew in the burning nicotine, its bitter taste a mild distraction for his racing thoughts. His blue eyes remained steadfastly fixed on an unseen focal point, as if attempting to anchor his racing mind. Alas, his efforts to silence the relentless clamor of his thoughts proved futile, each inhale only serving to fan the flames of his internal turmoil.

He cursed their decision to stay at the orphanage, wishing they had chosen a different hideout. If they had opted for an alternative location, he would have never crossed paths with her. However, if they hadn't stumbled upon it, she would have succumbed to her infection. The perplexing part was, why did her survival matter? He had spent years coming to terms with the fact that he would never lay eyes on her again, so whether she lived or died shouldn't have made a difference. Yet, the mere contemplation of her demise triggered the same strange and nauseating sensation he experienced when they initially discovered the deserted orphanage where he left her as an infant. He berated himself for allowing these emotions to affect him, considering them trivial under normal circumstances. However, as his thoughts clashed and collided, they brewed a tumultuous storm within his mind, obscuring his senses and leaving him in a state of disarray.

That is, until a subtle movement from the edge of his peripheral vision caught his attention. It was Fiona settling down next to him on the cold concrete curb. Without uttering a word, she extended two fingers towards him, a silent request for a cigarette. Scourge acquiesced without hesitation, his eyes barely leaving the horizon as he skillfully placed a cigarette between her waiting fingers, igniting it with a flick of his lighter, all without looking at her.

As time passed, an awkward silence draped over them, their shared cloud of smoke swirling around them, intertwining like ghostly tendrils. Fiona, in an attempt to pierce the growing tension, spoke up, saying, “Got her to change. She hated those soggy clothes.”

Scourge responded with nothing more than the barest of nods, his silence reestablishing the quiet that had briefly been disturbed.

“What are we doing, Fi?” Scourge finally broke the silence, his voice barely more than a hum. He extinguished his spent cigarette on the rough curb he was perched on, dropping the stub onto the pavement without a second thought.

“You tell me,” Fiona countered, her voice smooth as she took a long, deliberate drag of her cigarette. “You should've seen yourself when we stumbled upon that place. And then when we found her alive, well…” She trailed off, her eyes carefully watching Scourge for any hint of a reaction.

“Well?” His face remained a stoic mask, the only sign of his inner turmoil being a slight twitch in his brow.

“You were worried about her, Scourge. And since you matter to me, I helped out…” The crimson-furred vixen's voice faded away, her words dissipating into the air as she continued to speak.

“I seriously doubt you turned into a saint in a split, just to make me feel a bit better,” The green hedgehog shot back, a fresh cigarette already nestled between his lips as he sparked it to life.

“And what’s that supposed to mean, exactly?” Fiona’s brows furrowed, her body leaning in closer to Scourge as she sought an answer.

With a smug smirk, Scourge echoed a piece of wisdom she'd once harshly imparted to Tails, “You can’t count on anybody.”

Fiona scoffed, her crimson head shaking indignantly as she retorted, “That was a long time ago! And he was just some brat-“

“Same with her,” Scourge interjected, not giving Fiona a chance to finish. “Doesn’t matter who she’s related to.” He adjusted his sunglasses with a casual flick of his fingers, a plume of smoke billowing from his mouth.

“Alright, so what are you trying to suggest, Scourge?” Fiona demanded, her voice thick with indignation.

“Don’t play dumb, Fiona. You’ve clearly got a soft spot for the kid. And I don’t believe for a second it’s just because you feel sorry for me.” He sneered, a bitter edge in his voice. “Why else would you have spent the entire first night taking care of her?”

Fiona shook her head, her silence louder than any words. Scourge’s accusation sent ripples of turmoil through her, rendering her mute as she dropped her cigarette, the ember dying under the sole of her boot.

She was reminded of her own childhood, a time when she was chewed up and spit out by a cruel twist of fate. She had spent grueling years under Robotnik's tyrannical rule, forced into hard labor, subjected to inhumane experimentation, and ultimately abandoned in a dank cell to waste away. In the throes of her adolescence, she had clawed her way to freedom, literally digging her way out of her prison cell.

Adding to her torment was the fact that Sonic, the supposed hero of not just the world, but the entire universe, had saved others from one of the prisons she was kept in while she was there. But he couldn’t save her. The memory of being left to rot in that cell, the feeling of being forsaken, still made her blood boil. Regardless of the reasons, and despite her attempts to forgive, and even love him, the gnawing resentment lingered.

Toxic was not imprisoned like she was, but her fate seemed to be nothing more than an inevitable, bitter end. Fiona had learned to trust sparingly, but the desperate child within her couldn’t be silenced when she saw an opportunity to offer Toxic at least a chance at making it in this unforgiving world.

After a long moment of tapping her foot against the ground in a rhythm of frustration, Fiona finally broke the bitter silence that had settled over them. She stood up, the tension in her body pouring out as she stretched her arms above her head. Then, turning her attention to Scourge, she asked, "You hungry?"

Scourge, taken aback by the sudden turn in their conversation, paused, his mind needing a moment to recalibrate. Then, with a sudden jolt of realization, he remembered that the only food he'd ingested that day was a measly bag of potato chips. His stomach, now keenly aware of its long period without proper nourishment, issued a low, plaintive rumble of hunger.

"I could eat," Scourge responded, attempting to maintain an air of indifference even as his stomach clenched with a gnawing sensation of hunger.

"I'll go tell the others to head back," Fiona stated, her voice reverberating slightly in the confines of the narrow, dingy alleyway. She moved away with a confident stride, heading towards the rest of their disparate group. "We could do with a little 'us' time."

As she disappeared into the alley, Scourge rose to his feet, discarding his finished cigarette onto the cold, grimy pavement. He stamped it out with his sneaker, killing the feeble ember. He muttered a curse under his breath as he readjusted his worn jacket, the leather hanging awkwardly on his underfed figure.

"We'll bring stuff for you guys, okay?" Fiona's voice floated back to him as she spoke to the remaining group. Scourge watched as she, along with Predator, Simon, and Toxic, emerged from the murky depths of the alley.

His eyes met Toxic's and they held each other's stare for a moment, exchanging glares as frigid and sharp as a glacier. But it was Scourge who broke the intense eye contact, shifting his attention back towards Fiona.

"What are we in the mood for?" Fiona queried, sauntering back to his side.

“Tired of ramen. Pizza sound good?” Scourge’s ears perked up at the suggestion, and he casually draped an arm around Fiona’s waist.

“Smart boy.” Fiona complimented him, reciprocating his gesture by looping her arm around his shoulders, “lead the way, baby.”

As they began their journey out of the squalor of the slums, Scourge relished the tranquil feeling that came with the company of a single person. Not any random person, but Fiona. Her presence was a source of solace for him, one that surpassed the fleeting relief granted by any chemical stimulant. In comparison to any substance, she was his most potent addiction.

Feeling Scourge’s appraising gaze on her, Fiona quirked an eyebrow, a playful smile spreading across her lips, “what?”

“Nothin’. Just enjoying the view.” Scourge responded, sealing his remark with a flirtatious wink.

A wave of warmth washed over Fiona as she felt the familiar rush of blood coloring her cheeks. She tilted her head towards him, her gaze filled with affection, "Well, I hope you're not referring to that big pile of trash bags," she teased, her eyes flicking towards the stench-ridden pile they were passing by.

Chuckling, Scourge responded in a faux seductive tone, "Oh I don't know, Fi. It's got a certain... hot and steamy appeal to it," he quipped, his smirk acknowledging the trash heap wilting under the intense heat of the sun.

"Gross!" Fiona retorted, her nose crinkled in distaste as she playfully jabbed his shoulder, her arm still linked with his.

As they crossed into the lively shopping district, their eyes darted to and fro, scanning the dazzling neon signs in their quest to locate a pizza place. Their search was soon rewarded, and they plunged into the moving mass of people that flowed in multiple directions, propelling themselves towards the entrance of a rather run-down pizza parlor. As they stepped inside, a tinny jingle echoed from the overhead speakers, announcing their arrival.

"Snag us a spot, babe," Scourge murmured, pressing a quick kiss to her cheek as he withdrew his arm from her waist.

"Make sure it's pepperoni," Fiona instructed, pointing a finger at him as she set off to find a table for two.

"Gotcha," Scourge confirmed, flashing her a thumbs-up as he took his place in the queue to order.

Beneath the monotonous hum and sporadic flicker of the overhead fluorescent lights, Scourge moved to the front of the line when his turn arrived. He met the gaze of the cashier, whose eyes held a dull, weary look, and ordered two slices of pepperoni pizza accompanied by sodas. After settling the bill, Scourge picked up a number and joined Fiona at the table she had selected, his confusion evident at the sight of her staring off into the distance, lost in thought.

"What's on your mind, babe?" Scourge inquired, pushing up his red sunglasses to better perceive her in the restaurant's dim lighting.

"Just thinkin’..." She replied in a thoughtful hum.

"About what?"

"Where the hell are we going to place that kid once she's healed? Nobody in their right mind would want her," she mused, her gaze distant as she rested her chin on her knuckle.

"You’re right, but we can't keep her. We have our own lives to lead and we can't afford the delays this little psycho is causing," he asserted, his tone firm.

"Are there any other orphanages?" Fiona suggested, her eyebrow arched in query.

"I dunno, Fi. It's been years since I last looked. And even then, I could only find one we’re staying in." he replied, sounding somewhat deflated as he adjusted his jacket on his shoulder.

"But there’s gotta be some place where orphans go," Fiona mused aloud, her thumb nail caught between her teeth.

"In my experience, they either end up homeless or doing manual labor for some company," Scourge said, clearing his throat and scratching the back of his neck. He froze mid-movement as a sudden idea sparked in his mind.

"Damn…" Fiona muttered under her breath, her attention then drawn to Scourge's sudden shift in demeanor. "What's up?"

Scourge snapped his fingers and pointed at Fiona in a eureka moment, "We could possibly find an abandoned building for her. We'd have to teach her survival skills, but at least she'd be off our hands," he suggested, his voice brimming with newfound confidence.

"That could work… If nobody else is willing to take her in, I suppose it's better than forcing her into labor," Fiona considered, shrugging her shoulders in resignation.

Scourge nodded in agreement, just as their conversation was cut short by the shrill call of their order number. Upon collecting their food, Scourge evenly divided their meal, placing plates and drinks before each of them. Saliva pooled in his mouth as he opened wide to sink his teeth into the hot, oily slice of pepperoni pizza.

"Ew!" Fiona burst into laughter as she spotted a trail of drool mixed with pizza grease dribbling onto the table while she picked up her own slice.

"Fuck," Scourge mumbled under his breath, hastily wiping up the mess with a napkin, his ears flaring red with embarrassment.

"Good thing you're hot," Fiona teased, winking at him as she took a bite of her own pizza. "Pizza was a good choice."

"I'll grab a box for the guys on our way out so it's still warm," Scourge proposed after swallowing his mouthful of pizza.

"Smart idea," Fiona agreed, her smile warm as she sipped her soda, gazing fondly at her boyfriend.

"No need to rush, though," Scourge added, reaching across the table to hold Fiona's hand, his thumb softly stroking her knuckles, "When was the last time we actually went on a date?"

Fiona, intertwining her fingers with Scourge's, hummed in thought before answering, "Before you got arrested. So, about three months ago, more or less?"

"Oh right," Scourge nodded, "we could do with a moment like this…" he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper as he tightened his grip around her hand.

"Why don't we deliver some pizza to the guys and then take the rest of the evening for ourselves? Perhaps enjoy a night out in the city?" Fiona proposed, her eyes softening as she watched Scourge press a gentle kiss to her hand before she reached for the last bite of her pizza slice.

"You read my mind, babe," Scourge mumbled in a low, gravelly tone against her hand before releasing it to rest lightly on the table.

"I'll grab the pizza," Fiona offered, an eager smile playing on her lips as she rose from her seat to join the queue.

"Roger that," Scourge responded, shooting her a playful salute before his attention was drawn to the television mounted on the wall. He cringed as an ad for the latest single from an up-and-coming teen pop sensation sang from the speakers while he polished off the last of his pizza. As he began to drain the remnants of his soda, a breaking news bulletin interrupted the regular programming. A police chase was underway, with the suspect described as a female blue child hedgehog. She had been seen stealing from an upper class shopping district on the opposite side of town, and had reportedly assaulted officers when confronted.

Scourge's eyes bulged, his jaw dropping in disbelief. He slammed his empty cup down onto the table, causing a resounding clatter, and belted out, "Fiona!"

Hearing Scourge's cry, Fiona quickly spun on her heel and hurried back to their table. "What's wrong?" she inquired, her eyebrows furrowing in alarm at the urgency in his voice.

Scourge pointed a finger towards the television screen, revealing to her the blurry image of Toxic taken from a security camera that was now being broadcast across the city, her antics having caught the attention of the local law enforcement.

#anti mobius #archie sonic #fiona fox #flying frog #lightning lynx #moebius #predator hawk #scourge the hedgehog #seargent simian #sonic archie #anti sonic #sonic fanfiction #sonic archie comics #sonic original character #sonic comics #sonic oc #sonic the hedgehog #archie sonic comics #scourge #the destructix #destructix #evil sonic #sonic au #sgt simian #sgt. simian #sonic fandom #scourgiona #scourge x fiona #scourge the hedgehog x fiona fox

[vendettaspathfanfic]

Chapter Four

(Chapter Index)

(Previous)

(Next)

Just letting y’all know this is where the violence starts

Scourge's anger erupted the moment the group call connected, his voice booming through the phone, "What the FUCK!?" He unleashed his frustration, directing his fury at the remaining members of the Destructix who had failed to prevent the disastrous situation.

"She ran off!” Simon’s voice crackled with fury as he vehemently defended himself over the phone. “We genuinely believed she was taking a nap! We had no clue she had left!"

Scourge's sarcasm dripped from his words as he seethed, the tension evident in his gritted teeth, "Well, isn't that just fucking great? We should always blindly rely on that little shit to behave, shouldn't we?"

“Scourge!” Fiona intervened sharply as she paced through the narrow, dark alley, “pointing fingers won’t solve anything right now! She could lead the cops to the orphanage!”

“I know!” Scourge roared back, his hand tightening around his phone as he battled the urge to smash it into the ground, a guttural yell of frustration escaping his throat.

“We’ll clear out of here.” Predator chimed in dutifully.

"Make it fast!" Fiona commanded, her voice slightly distracted as she picked up on Scourge's indistinct grumbling. "What is it?" She queried, her voice laced with concern.

“We gotta get her.”

“Are you kidding Scourge!? We don’t need this shi-“ Lightning seethed before being interrupted.

“Shove it, Lightning. You guys and Fi split up to look and keep an ear out on the police scanner.” You guys and Fi need to split up and search. And stay tuned to the police scanner.” Scourge snapped, ending the call abruptly before shifting into a ready stance, preparing to sprint off.

“Scourge!” Fiona interjected with urgency, “you can’t run!”

“No time for jokes right now,” Scourge retorted following a dismissive scoff.

“Seriously! A green blur zooming through town could easily be spotted by the wrong people! And then, what? You’re not as strong as you used to be and the Suppression Squad could throw your ass back in jail and let me tell you, yanking you out once is hard enough.”

Despite his ego being slightly bruised, Scourge knew she was right. He had to stay incognito, under the radar. Resigned, he grumbled “fine, then what’s your brilliant plan for catching up with that kid?”

Almost as though answering his question, the distant but unmistakable roar of engines echoed through the air, a likely indication of a street race, a common occurrence in various parts of the city.

“Will wheels be fast enough?” Fiona questioned, her voice uneasy with skepticism.

“Probably not. No other choice though, sounds like they’re coming ‘round so be ready.” Scourge responded, swiftly grabbing Fiona’s hand and darting to the curb, moderating his speed to blend in.

“For what?” Fiona queried, trying to make sense of this unfolding plan as she barely managed to keep pace with Scourge.

“Shush.” Scourge raised a finger to his lips, releasing her hand as they reached the curb, his ears tuned to the escalating noise of the approaching engines.

It grew louder…

And louder…

Until…

Vrooooom!

The sleek purple sports car passed in front of them in a blink of an eye, and Scourge and Fiona-

Wait.

It was just Fiona on the curb now. Where’d Scourge go?

Unable to hear his girlfriend call for him by this point, Scourge was now lying prone on top of the driver’s side of the speeding car, his fist smashing through the driver’s window.

Before the startled and fuming driver could finish his string of profanities, Scourge leaned into the shattered window and delivered a swift and powerful punch. The driver was knocked unconscious in a heartbeat, his body slumping against the car seat.

In one fluid motion, Scourge vaulted through the fragmented window, his body twisting and turning with an incredible display of agility. He maneuvered himself into the driver's seat after swiftly unfastening the seat belt that held the unconscious driver in place and pushed his limp body onto the passenger's seat.

His hands gripped the steering wheel with unyielding determination. His eyes scanned the road ahead, his mind calculating the best course of action. With a powerful push of the accelerator and a swift turn of the wheel, he brought the stolen vehicle under his control, the powerful engine roaring in response to his touch.

In spite of the immediate and critical nature of the situation at hand, Scourge found himself immersed in a profound sense of exhilaration as a powerful surge of adrenaline coursed through his veins. It was a sensation that he cherished, knowing that only the most intense and high-stakes circumstances could elicit such a thrilling response from his body and mind.

With a sudden jerk of the wheel, Scourge executed an abrupt U-turn, skillfully weaving through the honking cars that littered the road, back to where Fiona was pacing anxiously on the curb.

"Get that fucker out and hop in, Fi!" Scourge barked as he screeched to a halt in front of her.

Without missing a beat, Fiona complied. She yanked open the door and tossed the unconscious man onto the curb before climbing into the passenger seat. She held her phone tightly in her grasp, her attention fixed on the voice of Predator Hawk as he relayed the latest directions and news from the police scanner.

"The police can't seem to apprehend her," Predator reported, his voice echoing through the dimly lit interior of the car. "She's retaliating with force against any officer that attempts to detain her." He paused, his attention focused on the crackling police radio, gathering more information about the escalating situation. "She has managed to disarm one of them and is now in possession of a firearm."

"That's just great. If we find her, she can finally put us out of our misery," Scourge grumbled, his hands tightly clutching the steering wheel as he accelerated the car, driving recklessly in the direction of Toxic's last known location.

"Wait a moment, boss… The police have received orders to retreat and establish a perimeter around the area," Predator continued, pausing to tune in more closely to the radio chatter. Suddenly, Scourge and Fiona could hear him mutter under his breath, "Damn..."

"What!?" Scourge demanded, his voice sharp with impatience.

"Some members of the Suppression Squad are moving in on her location!" Predator warned, horror creeping into his usually unflappable voice.

Scourge's muzzle drained of color at this revelation, his grip on the steering wheel tightening to the point of his knuckles whitening. His heart pounded like a wild drum in his chest, drowning out Fiona's voice. Anger welled up within him, blurring his vision and making him seethe, "SHE'LL FUCKING RAT US OUT TO THE SUPPRESSION SQUAD!!!"

"Scourge-" Fiona tried to interject.

"WE SHOULD HAVE LEFT THAT LITTLE BITCH TO DIE FROM THAT DAMN INFECTION!!!" Scourge roared, his fury reaching a frightening level that was rarely seen even in him. "I SWEAR, I'LL KILL HER MYSELF BEFORE THEY GET TO HER!!! I DON'T CARE WHO SHE IS!!!" Although he could feel his anger reaching a fever pitch, and heard his voice continuing to spew venom and hatred, he was not fully aware of his words. His jaw moved mechanically, his words pouring out uncontrollably as he navigated through the city's traffic at breakneck speed.

"SHUT UP, SCOURGE!!!" Fiona's voice cut through his tirade, bringing his rant to an abrupt end. The green hedgehog fell into a stunned silence. "I'm just as furious at her as you are, Scourge! Trust me on that! But throwing a fit isn't going to solve anything! We need to calm down and figure out a plan!"

"But how!? You've said it yourself! I'm not powerful enough-"

"I know what I said, but we will figure it out, okay!? We can't just roll over and bitch about it because the situation looks like shit!" Fiona shot back, her tone just as fiery. "Predator! Who else is out there?"

"They didn't mention any specific names," Predator replied.

"We need to know who we're up again-" Fiona's sentence was cut off as she was nearly thrown forward when Scourge brought the car to a screeching stop. "Ow!" She winced as the seatbelt dug into her torso. "Watch it, you idiot!"

"Police blockade! She's around here!" Scourge's voice reverberated through the confined space of the car, his expression contorting with discomfort as the seatbelt dug into him. "We need a diversion to clear a path..." Scourge drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, his mind racing as he pondered their next move. Suddenly, his eyes lit up with a spark of inspiration. "It's time to mow down some pigs. Do we still have bandage from when Toxic bit us?"

"Yeah, we've got plenty," Predator affirmed. "But what's your plan?"

"Cover your faces with it and make your way over here," Scourge commanded, his tone urgent. "And tell Simon to bring an arsenal!" He swiftly relayed their current location and details of their vehicle to Predator.

"Understood, boss. We're not far," Predator acknowledged dutifully.

"Keep us updated on the situation for the time being," Fiona chimed in, her voice intermingling with the electric tension that permeated the tight confines of the vehicle.

She cracked open the car window slightly, letting the sounds of the scene infiltrate the car’s interior as she watched the drama unfold. Armored police officers, their bodies encased in reflective gear, were waving away a throng of curious bystanders from the scene of action. Fiona found her attention being yanked towards the shrill sound of a loud alarm, triggered when a bystander audaciously tried to slip past a towering wall of pulsating yellow light. To her surprise, the wall flashed a harsh red as the intruder penetrated its boundaries, only to be forcefully repelled backward onto the ground by a hollering cop.

“How does it know the difference?” Fiona posed the question to Scourge, her curiosity piqued as she observed one of the policemen stepping through the luminescent wall without any issue whatsoever.

“It scans your body to see if you have clearance.” Scourge explained.

The gears in Fiona's mind began to turn as a potential idea hatched. "We used to be the rulers of this place. If we had clearance at some point, do you think it would still be valid now?" she asked, a hopeful note creeping into her voice.

Scourge, however, was decidedly less optimistic. "Not worth the gamble," he refuted, shaking his head in a definitive no.

"You're probably right," Fiona conceded with a resigned sigh. Her gaze turned back towards the ongoing scene outside.

Just then, Predator's voice cut into their conversation. "A vehicle from the Suppression Squad just crossed the perimeter. North 36th Street." He warned them, his tone serious.

"That's about half a mile from us," Scourge noted, his eyes scanning their surroundings.

"Almost there. We have your vehicle in our sights. Over and out," Predator's voice came through one last time before the line went dead.

"Ready to stir up some shit, Fi?" Scourge asked, his voice laced with a hint of playful flirtation. His heart started to pound with the exhilarating rush that only came from living on the fringe, teetering on the edge of danger.

"Waiting on your move, babe," Fiona replied, her voice carrying a teasing lilt.

The duo stepped out of their sleek, purple car, their boiling blood somewhat cooled by the fresh chill of the night air. Scourge beckoned for the Destructix, who were driving a stolen postal van, to follow them into a dimly lit, narrow alleyway adjacent to their location. Once parked, they all disembarked from the vehicle, their faces covered in bandages as they were told.

"Alright, here's the plan," Scourge said, his voice commanding the attention of his team. "I'll scale the building and throw grenades down at the cop cars, then bolt back down here. The explosions will take out the police lines, disabling any alarms. We move into the perimeter swiftly, split up, locate the kid, and communicate once we've found her. Then we make our exit. Under no circumstances should you let the Suppression Squad get wind of you. Understood?"

A chorus of affirmatives echoed through the alleyway, confirming their understanding of the plan. Scourge nodded approvingly, "Good. Anyone still got the bandages?"

"Yeah," Lightning replied, shifting his weight as he prepared to toss a roll to Scourge. "Catch."

Scourge snapped out a hand, catching the roll deftly in the air. He began to apply the bandages, pressing his conspicuous quills flat and covering every part of his face except for his eyes and nose, to minimize his visibility in case he was spotted.

Once Simon had handed him the grenades, the stage was set. The show was about to begin.

"Be prepared, guys," Scourge commanded his gang as he proceeded to climb the rusty rungs of the building's fire escape, carefully cradling the grenades in one arm. "You might want to cover your ears."

Upon reaching the rooftop, he crouched near the ledge, peering down at the unsuspecting law enforcers below. They were completely at his mercy, just as they should be. He ran this town, this entire world. His power was the only one that truly mattered, whether others acknowledged it or not. With a predatory grin, he stood slowly, savoring the moment. "Hail to the king, baby," he whispered, before using his super speed to pull the pins from the grenades and lob them down onto the police cars. A rush of adrenaline surged through him, eliciting a maniacal laughter as he sped away from the ledge and jumped down the fire escape, landing on his feet just as the symphony of explosions erupted. The ground shook with the force of the detonation, causing several power satellites and various other structures to topple.

In the ensuing chaos and sudden darkness, Simon thrust a pistol into Scourge's hand. "You never know!" He yelled over the cacophony of sirens, alarms, and terrified screams.

"Appreciated, Simon! Everyone, scatter!" Scourge commanded, darting through the alleys at an incredibly swift yet controlled speed, careful not to stand out as a green blur. His eyes scanned the shadows for any sign of his unhinged sister.

Naturally, without his supersonic speed at his disposal, the task of locating a small, elusive girl who could nearly match his pace was a challenge. During his fervent search, he unexpectedly stumbled upon two members of the dreaded Suppression Squad, known as Boomer and Miles. Reacting instantly, he swiftly concealed himself behind a nearby wall, narrowly evading their notice.

Miles, a young, yellow, twin-tailed fox, was wrestling with his malfunctioning radio, a result of the recent destruction of their communications tower.

"Damn," he growled in frustration, "without the radio, I can’t determine the cause of that explosion. Something isn’t adding up, Boomer.”

“Yeah…” Boomer, a hulking purple cyborg walrus, started to reply, “The timing of this incident is suspicious. We should-”

However, their conversation was abruptly cut short as a small blur of blue zipped past them, stirring up a swift gust of wind.

“Survey the area for intruders and try to get a signal!” Miles commanded Boomer, passing him the faulty radio before taking to the air. His aerial agility made it clear why he had been assigned to pursue her. Few could even dream of keeping pace with Scourge, and Miles was a notable exception.

Suddenly, Scourge found himself engaged in a high-stakes race against this familiar adversary. If he failed, Miles would apprehend Toxic, and if she caved under pressure, their entire plan could crumble.

He was determined not to lose this race.

The police and news helicopters were preoccupied with the wreckage from the recent explosions, allowing Scourge a brief moment of anonymity. He used this opportunity to dart through the narrow alleyways, pushing his speed to its limits as he chased after the blue blur. In his haste, the bandages that obscured his identity were torn away, revealing his true self. With his abilities pushed to their peak, he managed to swiftly apprehend the young girl without attracting Miles' attention. He covered her mouth and pressed a gun against her head.

“If you fight or scream, it's over for you.” Scourge whispered harshly into her ear before hoisting her over his shoulder. He retreated deeper into the shadowy alley and attempted to contact his team, only to discover his own signal was out. An oversight he regretted.

“You’re fuckin’ kidding me…” Scourge growled, maintaining a stealthy and controlled pace as he searched for a signal.

His efforts were abruptly interrupted by the sound of a thunderous blast, powerful enough to make him drop Toxic and send him crashing into a nearby brick wall.

Boomer had located them.

“I thought Sonic threw you to the wolves.” Boomer sneered with contempt. “You were always a stubborn shitstain, though.”

“How’s life been, big guy?” Scourge replied, dusting himself off and shifting his gaze toward Toxic’s faint silhouette. “Stay put, kid. If you attempt to escape, I’ll hunt you down.”

“Should've guessed she was involved with you.” Boomer jeered as he chuckled darkly.

“Unfortunately, that’s the case.” Scourge retorted before launching himself at Boomer in a rapid spin dash, knocking him to the ground. He reached for his gun, only to realize it was no longer in his jacket and must have fallen during the commotion. As he scanned the dimly lit ground, he was hit with a stronger sonic boom blast. The impact sent him crashing into the wall with such force that it knocked the wind out of him. As he gasped for breath, he could faintly make out Boomer's maniacal grin in the moonlight, until suddenly…

BANG!

BANG!

BANG!

BANG!

Boomer’s grin quickly snapped into a look of sheer horror as he clasped his bloody neck and collapsed with a heavy thud.

As the shots were fired, Scourge noticed flashes of light illuminating from the hands of Toxic’s small figure.

“Damn, kid!” Scourge gasped, slowly regaining his breath as he stared at his fallen enemy. He was now weakly choking, gasping for air, and desperately clutching at his neck wound as he audibly gargled blood. The longer he struggled, the quieter the sounds of his agony became.

Before he could react to the shocking scene, Scourge spotted Miles, frozen in horror at the sight.

Without a moment's hesitation, Scourge snatched the gun from Toxic, grabbed Miles by the collar, and landed a powerful punch that knocked him unconscious.

Holding up Miles’ limp body by the shirt collar, Scourge glanced back at Boomer. In mere minutes, the once formidable adversary had been reduced to a lifeless shell. The once powerful walrus was now silent and still, his gaze vacant, a pool of blood spreading around his face.

“Damn, kid…” Scourge panted out in shock, not sure what else to say.

“Stupid bitch.” Toxic sneered, flipping the lifeless body off with her ring finger.

(Hey! If you read this far, thanks a ton! Please leave a comment and tell me what you think! Just so y’all know this is all I have pre-written before making this page (was posting bit by bit as it got more attention) so the next chapters will be taking a bit longer to come out. Again, thank you so much for reading! Oh and most likely the photo for the next chapter will be the official cover!! P.S. sorry if ur a boomer walrus fan 😅!)

#anti mobius #archie sonic #fiona fox #flying frog #lightning lynx #moebius #predator hawk #scourge the hedgehog #seargent simian #sonic archie #anti sonic #sonic fanfiction #sonic archie comics #sonic original character #sonic comics #sonic oc #sonic the hedgehog #archie sonic comics #scourge #sgt. simian #sergeant simian #sonic au #miles prower #boomer walrus #suppression squad #the destructix #destructix #evil sonic #scourge x fiona #scourgiona

[vendettaspathfanfic]

Destructix fans WYA!!

#destructix #scourge the hedgehog #fiona fox #seargent simian #flying frog #lightning lynx #predator hawk #sonic archie #archie sonic #sonic archie comics #sonic the hedgehog #moebius #anti mobius #evil sonic #anti sonic #sonic comics #sonic the hedgehog comics

[vendettaspathfanfic]

Chapter Five

(First one with the cover!!)

(Chapter Index)

(Previous)

The sudden demise of a prominent official and the mysterious vanishing of another were events that could not stay undetected for long. Reinforcements were swiftly deployed to the location to scrutinize the aftermath of a violent explosion, an array of gunfire, and the resonating shockwaves of sonic booms.

Although nobody had any idea who initiated the bombing, it was initially assumed Miles Prower and Boomer Walrus of the Suppression Squad had neutralized the elusive blue blur. Yet, upon arrival, they were met with a chilling scene - the lifeless body of Boomer, his existence snuffed out by a fatal gunshot wound on the lower right side of his neck. The grim tableau was punctuated by the discovery of four police-issue bullet casings and three bullets lodged in the nearby concrete wall.

This evidence led to an almost inescapable conclusion - the young blue blur who had managed to seize a gun from the law enforcement ranks was the likely perpetrator of this crime.

After power and communications were swiftly restored, the area remained under stringent lockdown. Law enforcement personnel diligently scanned the vicinity for any trace of Miles, the young suspect, or any individuals exhibiting suspicious behavior. Their search unearthed only the shattered remnants of Miles' array of handheld devices and a faint set of small, bloody shoeprints.

Atop a hill, overlooking the city, the massive Castle Acorn loomed like a fortress of steel and glass. Its impressive structure was marked by glowing neon spires that pierced the evening sky, a true testament to technological power. Inside the castle's walls, Alicia Acorn sat in the throne room, surrounded by modern design and bathed in the gentle glow of neon lights. It was there that she received an urgent phone call from the chief of police, bearing this news of her comrades' fate and the circumstances surrounding it.

The newly crowned queen gripped her throne, taking in a breath in an attempt to retain composure. “Please bring Boomer’s remains to the castle as soon as you are able. And do not cease in your search for Miles.”

“Yes, your majesty.” The chief dutifully responded. “We’re able to have him sent back right away.”

The loss of Boomer was bad enough by itself. His collaboration with Miles in the realm of engineering and invention had been a cornerstone of the extraordinary technological revolution sweeping through their world. More than just an innovator, Boomer was also one of the most formidable combatants within their small team.

The impact of Miles' sudden disappearance was even more catastrophic. While Alicia held the official title of queen in their domain, it was Miles who was the true architect of power behind the throne. His strategic wit was the keystone in their coup that toppled the despised Scourge, leading to the former king's incarceration in Zone Jail at the hands of Sonic. Without his guiding hand, Alicia's governance faced the threat of unraveling.

Patch, interjected with furrowed brows and a skeptical glance from his intact eye, "I was under the impression that the Shapeshifters had departed our planet, madame."

Alicia gestured assertively as she responded, "Many have, not her.” She turned to pace in another direction, her eyes shifting in continuous thought as she spoke. "I had already considered extending an invitation for her to join us. Now, there's no luxury of time to ponder further. She represents our immediate recourse." With her arms now dropping to her sides, her hands clenched into determined fists, Alicia’s eyes blazed with resolve. "As for locating Miles, rest assured we will find him," she proclaimed with a steely tone. "Even if our search means reducing our world to ashes."

Little did Miles’ comrades know that he was unconscious in the back of a postal van.

In a fortunate turn of events, telecommunications were swiftly restored in the vicinity of the recent bombing. Inhabitants of this affluent area had the financial means to ensure rapid resumption of services, and as a result, utility crews worked diligently to rectify the outage in under 20 minutes. The expeditious recovery allowed the Destructix to hastily reconvene and make their escape from the site of the explosion, slipping away before law enforcement could fully divert their attention from managing the immediate effects of the devastation.

In a calculated move to avoid drawing attention, Fiona opted for a less direct route than the rest of the gang as they drove back to their hideout. She was at the wheel of the high-performance sports car they had stolen earlier. In the passenger seat, Scourge was visibly annoyed, burdened with the task of holding the most wanted child in all of Moebius, who was making her discontent loudly known. Due to earlier incidents, he deemed it best that the Destructix didn’t attempt to handle her.

"I wanna fuckin' drive!" Toxic's high-pitched, petulant demand sliced through the interior of the car, her voice a discordant note that caused Scourge's ears to involuntarily flatten against his head in vexation.

Scourge's patience frayed, and with a harsh tone, he retorted, "And if you don't shut up, I'll want to knock all your baby teeth out." This threat prompted Toxic to issue a low, defiant growl, and with exaggerated pique, she crossed her arms and turned her gaze out the window, embodying the essence of childish rebellion.

Despite the animosity that he held towards his sister, recent developments were too significant to overlook. For starters, there was the fact that one of their rivals had been shot dead, which had subsequently resulted in the abduction of another. To top it all off, Scourge found himself in possession of an exceptionally sleek sports car. Admittedly, the vehicle had a shattered window—a souvenir from the circumstances of its acquisition—but he was confident that with a little bodywork and a fresh coat of paint, it would serve as a magnificent means of transportation. The cause of these victories were his sister's reckless escapade that had her tangling with the long arm of the law.

Her actions, albeit inadvertent, had proven to be of considerable advantage to them.

"Ay, Toxic… We need to talk about some things," Scourge reluctantly initiated the conversation, hesitant to give her credit for her aid.

"I thought you said shut up?" Toxic retorted, her tone laced with bitterness as she tightly crossed her arms over her chest.

Scourge let out an exasperated roll of his eyes, followed by a scoff, "Well, you can talk now, smartass."

"Can I drive?" Toxic inquired, a spark of curiosity lighting up her gaze as she considered the prospect.

"Not a chance, brat," Scourge dismissed the idea instantly. "Anyways, that's not what I'm trying to talk about. Look, you did some crazy-ass stuff today, and I was this close," he said, holding his thumb and forefinger millimeters apart, "to blowing your brains out. You could've landed us all back in the slammer," he added, his voice tinged with contempt. He paused to rub his face, as if the physical action could somehow help him process the day's events, "But, lucky for you, your antics actually played out in our favor. So, not only am I sparing your life, but I'm also offering you another shot to roll with our crew. We're talking about a legit life here. Away from that hellhole of an orphanage, living it up in the castle where everything we could ever want is just a snap away. But this comes with conditions: you do everything we say, you don't run off, you don't attack us, you don't mess with our stuff without permission, and you put an end to those tantrums of yours. Otherwise, you're nothing but fodder for the rats. Are we clear, kid?"

Toxic seemed to mull over his words, her initially rigid posture gradually easing, her ear twitching as if weighing each word. Scourge watched her with a raised eyebrow, his head tilted in anticipation of her response.

"Um… Does this mean you can help me?" Toxic eventually asked, her voice small as she twiddled a strand of her unkempt hair, avoiding eye contact.

Scourge blinked, taken aback. She was asking for help? It dawned on him that he had never really considered her needing anything beyond the apparent satisfaction she derived from antagonizing him and his cohorts.

"Uh… Depends," Scourge replied, his expression still betraying his confusion, "What do you need, Toxic?"

Her response was timid, her words imbued with a childlike simplicity, "My friends didn't come back..." Toxic admitted sheepishly, her gaze shifting away to the car window, evading the weight of their stares.

"Your friends?" Fiona chimed in, perplexed at the idea of her ever having friends.

"Hold on a second," Scourge interjected with a snap of his fingers, a lightbulb going off in his head, "Is that why you had four lanterns?"

Toxic nodded slowly, her long fingernail, encrusted with dirt, scraping against the door's upper panel as she gazed blankly into the distance.

"Uh..." Scourge exhaled, a notable tension in his breath as he grappled with the realization of her situation and scratched at the back of his head, pondering the implication of her words, "we… might have a way to find them." Scourge's voice was tentative, betraying a hint of reluctance before he directed his gaze to her, asking with a newfound sense of purpose, "Where were they last seen? What happened?"

She began to recount the events in a halting, childlike manner, "Um… ok so Revine told me not to do the slide because it was broken but it didn’t look broken and then I did it, but it um… broked. Then my mouth cut hurt really bad and I had a hot um… face." Toxic tapped her forehead, indicating a fever, her speech hampered by the limits of her youthful lexicon, "I didn't feel good and Revine went to go get um… the medicine… But she didn't come back. Ren and Selene were scared, and I felt badder, but..." She trailed off, her voice dropping to almost a whisper as she lowered her head, her gaze fixated on Scourge's shoes in the dim light of the car while she fidgeted with her hair, "Revine always said don't look for her if she doesn't come back, but they still went looking and they didn't come back either."

A heavy silence settled over the interior of the car as the gravity of Toxic's predicament sunk in. For the first time, Scourge felt a genuine pang of sympathy for his sister, his blue eyes softening as they made contact with her green ones, reflecting a vulnerability he hadn't noticed before. He was acutely aware that finding her friends would be no simple feat. In the best-case scenario, they had been apprehended and would be listed in police records, which could be accessed with ease if they managed to secure positions of influence. But if they weren't in custody, they could be kidnapped, dead, or lost among the countless homeless children wandering the neon-drenched labyrinth of the city's streets.

"Ok..." Scourge finally spoke, his voice lower, the earlier edge of command now replaced with a more contemplative tone as he averted his eyes from Toxic and stared ahead at the road, "Just stick to the rules, do what we say, and we'll help you look for them, understood?"

Toxic's nod was firm, and with newfound conviction, she affirmed, "Ok."

"You know, Toxic," Fiona interjected, taking control of the steering wheel as she navigated the vehicle, her eyes scanning the road ahead, "shooting seems to be in your blood. We could train you to handle a gun like a real sharpshooter. But remember, you only use a gun when we say so, got it?"

"Ok," Toxic responded, a glimmer of enthusiasm detectable in her voice as she contemplated the offer, "Can we get some food?"

"Yeah," Scourge agreed, pointing at Fiona with a sudden inspiration, "we should swing by that pizza joint we hit up earlier. We could grab a box and some beers to toast our little victory tonight."

"Amen to that," Fiona laughed.

"Wait, I want beer too," Toxic suddenly piped up, her request prompting a burst of laughter from Scourge and Fiona.

"Have you ever even tasted beer?" Scourge queried through his chuckles.

"No. I saw some people drinking it when we went out to find food. Revine said I'm too young for it, but are you saying I can have some?" Toxic asked, her thumbs fidgeting in anticipation.

Scourge was about to respond when Fiona interjected with a firm, "No!"

"Come on, she's earned it! It'd just be a taste," Scourge argued, still laughing at the thought of their youngest member joining in the revelry.

"Scourge, she's just a kid. Who knows what it might do to her? Plus, she’d definitely be a mean drunk," Fiona retorted, shaking her head at Scourge's lack of foresight.

The idea of a belligerent, inebriated child hurling insults at hardened criminals was too amusing for Scourge to resist. "Wait—Shit!" he gasped, struggling to stifle his laughter, "Alright, alright, just one little sip," he conceded, still chuckling.

"Just a splash, barely a taste," Fiona relented, joining in the mirth, "We're definitely going straight to hell for this."

As the laughter subsided, Scourge reassured Toxic, "We'll get you some soda too. Beer's an acquired taste, kid."

"What the hell does that mean?" Toxic asked, her brows knitting together in confusion.

"You'll find out," Scourge said, glancing out the window just in time to see they were pulling up to the pizzeria.

Through the grimy car window, they could see the restaurant's television broadcasting the news, ablaze with coverage of the aftermath of a recent bombing, and now featuring the murder of Boomer Walrus.

"Damn..." Scourge muttered to himself, "Fiona, you grab the pizza. Toxic, you're staying in the car with me."

Fiona nodded tersely, understanding the gravity of the situation, and exited the vehicle to collect their order.

"Why do we have to stay in the car?" Toxic inquired, her fingernail resuming its path along the car door's leather panel.

"Because you've landed yourself in a shitload of trouble. We can't risk some bounty hunter spotting you and trying to cash in," Scourge explained with a weary sigh, his mind flashing back to past encounters with relentless headhunters who’d do anything for a reward.

When Fiona returned, laden with an extra large box of pizza and bottles of beer, they wasted no time in driving back to the orphanage. Upon arrival, they rearranged some scattered chairs into a circle in one of the building's larger rooms. They set a single chair in the center to serve as a makeshift table for the pizza box, which was now the focal point surrounded by the soft glow of the four lanterns. The dim light from the lanterns cast eerie shadows on the walls as they settled into their seats, ready to celebrate the tumultuous day's end.

"Where's Miles, by the way?" Fiona inquired casually, reaching for a slice of pizza and a beer from the makeshift table.

"We tied him to a chair in an old freezer down in the basement," Predator answered, popping open his beer and taking an eager gulp. His face contorted in disgust as he quickly pulled the bottle away, "This tastes like..."

"Like piss and batteries," Lightning finished, grimacing after taking a swig of his own.

"You'd know all about that, wouldn't you, Lightning-wing-sting?" Flying Frog teased with a jeering point, his laughter echoing in the room.

"Yeah, learned from the best—your mom," Lightning retorted with a smirk, eliciting a round of chuckles from the group.

"Hey! Watch it, pally!" Flying Frog shot back with mock offense, standing on his chair He then grinned widely, "Tell her I said thanks for dumping me when I was born," he joked before collapsing back into his chair amidst the group's laughter.

Scourge felt a gentle tap on his arm and looked down to see Toxic seeking his attention. "Can I have a beer now?" she asked with a hopeful look in her eyes.

"Hold up, everyone. Before we drink any more, I think we need to acknowledge our little wildcard here," Scourge declared, raising his bottle for attention despite the murmurs of disbelief from his gang. "If it weren't for her wild antics today, Boomer would still be alive and Miles wouldn't be in the freezer. So here's to Toxic," he proclaimed, nodding at Fiona who reluctantly opened a bottle for the youngster.

"Toxic," they echoed, albeit somewhat scattered, as they raised their bottles and took a drink. Toxic, in her innocence, tried to mimic the gesture but immediately spat out the beer, her face scrunching up in disgust, which sent another wave of laughter through the group.

"To be fair, this beer is pretty terrible," Simon admitted with the hint of a grin.

"We kicked ass guys, not win the lottery," Fiona added with a chuckle, handing over a bottle of orange soda to Toxic. "Here, try this instead, kid."

Grateful to rid her mouth of the bitter taste, Toxic eagerly guzzled the soda before hungrily diving into her slice of pizza.

The atmosphere within the dimly lit room was unusually relaxed and convivial as the evening progressed. The gang, typically bound by the commonality of their shared objectives and the threat of their enemies, found themselves unwinding in a rare display of camaraderie. It wasn't an occasion that required the profundity of deep, heart-to-heart discussions; rather, the air was filled with an undercurrent of joviality that was a welcome departure from their usual interactions.

Simon, Flying, Lightning, and Predator shared a history that spanned several years, their familiarity with one another evident in their effortless exchanges. For Scourge and Fiona, however, the dynamics were relatively new territory. Although past collaborations had occasionally thrown them together, it was only recently that they had committed to being full-time members of this gang. As such, their integration into the fold was still a work in progress, with trust and friendship being forged through shared experiences and battles.

Yet, as laughter filled the room and barriers began to dissolve, it seemed that the invisible walls that had separated them were crumbling. Even Toxic, the young girl who had been the object of their collective disdain earlier in the day, was now an integral part of the evening's festivities, her presence accepted, perhaps even appreciated, as they all found common ground in the simple pleasure of the moment.

As the night wore on, the effects of the alcohol became increasingly evident. Their inhibitions lowered, their speech slowed, and their movements took on a languid quality. Lightning, in particular, seemed to succumb to the introspective pull of inebriation. Holding an empty bottle with a loose grip, he lamented over a lost love with slurred words and a bitterness that could only be fueled by the sting of rejection. Bride of the Conquering Storm, the formidable leader of his former Raiju clan, had not only denied his affections but had also cast him out of said clan following his failure to display his worth in combat against her and Sonic.

Predator, observing Lightning's inebriated state, offered a dose of unsentimental advice. Hunched over in his chair, a bottle of his own hanging precariously from his fingers, he addressed Lightning with a weary sigh. "If she's such a bitch, forget her," he muttered.

"I c-“ Lightning's speech was abruptly cut off by a soft burp, his words trailing off. "I can’t. I wanted her more than anything, man… And then I get kicked out of my clan… Like what the fuck!?" His voice grew progressively louder, his words slurred as he spoke.

"Lightning, look around you," Predator grumbled, his grip tightening on the bottle as he gestured around them. "Sure, we’re in a dump of an orphanage, but no matter what, you’ve got us. Focus on that. What happened back then won’t happen again."

Lightning paused, attempting to process Predator’s words, but before he could, he was overcome by a wave of acute nausea, muttering a faint "fuck" before rushing out of the room to vomit.

Predator watched him go and then stared at the doorway through which he had fled for a moment or two. He shut his eyes and clenched his jaw, staring down at his feet in silence. After a heavy sigh, he placed the bottle on the floor, stood up, and slurred, "I’m gonna go to bed…" before storming away without another word, dragging his feet as he went.

"Looks like I’m getting some black coffee in the morning," Simon said, observing Flying Frog snoring in his chair with an empty beer bottle in his lap.

“Why?” Toxic asked, squishing her empty plastic soda bottle out of boredom.

"It helps when you get a hangover," Simon replied, his words slightly slurred from the alcohol.

"What’s a hangover?" Toxic asked, wiggling her feet aimlessly before putting the tip of the bottle in her mouth and gnawing on it. She leaned back against the wall, her curiosity piqued.

“It’s when you drink a lot of beer or other types of alcohol and the next morning you feel sick,” Simon explained, getting up to pick up the empty bottles scattered around the room, the faint aroma of alcohol lingering in the air.

“Why do people do that?” she pondered with a grimace, unable to fathom the appeal of drinking something so vile. She wrinkled her nose at the thought.

“For fun, I guess. Why do you ask so many questions?” Simon replied, taking her bottle and adding it to the trash he took to a nearby waste bin, the clinking of glass echoing in the quiet room.

“I dunno,” Toxic said with a shrug, her eyes following Simon as he moved around the room.

“Well,” Simon began with a stretch, “I’ll go to bed too. You should sleep too soon, you hear me?”

“I’m not tired,” Toxic protested, her gaze wandering around the room.

“Well, you will be soon. G’night, Toxic,” he said softly before leaving to go to bed, his steps fading into the distance.

Meanwhile, Scourge and Fiona were outside having one last cigarette before they went to bed, the night air cool against their skin.

“So…” Fiona exhaled, a cloud of smoke escaping her lips, “If we get Miles to talk, we get word on the castle’s security. Then… it’s almost straight shootin’ from there.”

“Hopefully,” Scourge added before inhaling deeply, the red ember of his cigarette glowing in the darkness, “but our plans have seemed to change a lot lately, so we gotta be prepared for anything.”

“We’re good at rolling with the punches though, ain’t we?” She said with a mischievous smirk as she held the cigarette between her fingers, turning her head to Scourge, nudging his side playfully with her elbow, the faint glow of the cigarette illuminating their faces in the dim light.

“True,” Scourge admitted, his arm enveloping Fiona’s waist as they stood bathed in the gentle glow of the moonlight filtering through the night sky. He gazed into her eyes, the silver beams reflecting in her irises, creating a mesmerizing effect.

“Nowhere I’d rather be…” Fiona said softly, her voice carrying a hint of longing, as she closed the gap between their lips, embracing a fusion of love and the bitter tang of nicotine.

They savored the moment for a couple of minutes, their connection deepened by the intoxicating allure of both the chemicals and each other’s presence. Although unspoken, they both knew they needed one another. In a world consumed by chaos, they were each other’s anchor, the one constant they could rely on. As their lips hesitantly drifted apart, they extinguished their cigarettes, reentered the building, and headed off to bed, their silhouettes fading into the darkness.

Toxic was the last one awake at this point. She rubbed her eyes as she got up from her chair and turned three of the lanterns off, preserving their power as Revine had taught her to do before taking one to guide her to her designated mattress. With a quiet click, she turned off the lantern and settled onto her bed, a glimmer of hope kindling within her for the first time in almost two weeks.

As Scourge had mentioned earlier, they had to be prepared for anything.

Dr. Stellaria Versipelle eagerly accepted the opportunity to join the Suppression Squad. After conducting a thorough examination of Boomer’s lifeless form, she extended an invitation to Queen Alicia and Patch to demonstrate something she claimed would be incredibly useful to them.

“What can she show us?” Patch asked Alicia as they approached the lab, his voice tinged with curiosity and uncertainty. “Clearly the child shot and killed him.”

“We won’t know until we get there, now will we?” Alicia tersely replied as they entered the lab, the sterile scent of antiseptic hitting their nostrils as they were greeted by the doctor, who had taken the form of a tall navy blue Moebian fox, her presence exuding an air of professionalism and intrigue.

“Thank you for making time out of your schedule to come see me,” the doctor spoke formally with a grin, her hands folding in front of her as she stood before them. “I’ll make this quick and worth your while.”

“Well, what do you have to say?” Alicia inquired, her eyes fixed on the shrouded form of Boomer, a sense of urgency palpable in her voice.

“Firstly,” the doctor began, her steps purposeful as she paced around Boomer’s still figure, “I’ve come to the conclusion he didn’t die instantly. He struggled for a moment, gagging on his own blood long enough for me to be able to show you why you’re here.” She turned to an assistant standing nearby, her expression expectant. “If you could bring my subject in? And please do be gentle with her, she can be sensitive.”

As her assistant followed orders, Patch’s eyes furrowed in confusion, his unease growing palpable in the tense atmosphere of the lab.

“Erm… Subject, Miss?” Patch asked apprehensively, his gaze shifting between the doctor and the assistant, uncertainty etched on his features.

"Doctor," Stellaria corrected him, her blood orange eyes locking onto Patch’s with an icy intensity that sent a chill running down his spine, eliciting a disquieting chuckle from her. The air in the room seemed to grow colder as her gaze held him in place. "And, yes. I found her and have been working with her since she was a child. You see, she was born with certain abilities that make her quite unique. This includes but isn’t limited to telekinetic powers, the ability to create out of thin air, and, most relevantly at the moment, clairvoyance. With the ever-increasing rise in technological and scientific advancement, her abilities have been enhanced tenfold, resulting in quite a remarkable specimen if I do say so myself. Oh, and do call her McKenna."

At that moment, accompanied by the aforementioned assistant, a teenage red fox with frizzy, somewhat wavy hair entered the room, her locks partially obscuring half of her face. She wore a plain white t-shirt and matching white pants, with socks that had grips on the bottom, her posture rigid and her expression blank and unflinching. The only indication of her being anything near lifelike was the subtle movement of her fingertips as she twiddled them in random, strange patterns, her presence casting an otherworldly aura in the room.

“I’ve taken the liberty of collecting a blood sample from Boomer,” Stellaria added, holding up a small vial of blood, the crimson liquid swirling within the glass under the harsh laboratory lights. “Just enough for her to show us what we need to know. As I’ve said, her clairvoyance is vital right now. When she tastes his blood, she can get somewhat of a profile of his energy, as well as be able to see things from his perspective. More importantly, the circumstances of his death. If you will, my dear?”

Saying nothing and retaining a blank, unflinching expression, McKenna took the vial that Dr. Versipelle handed her and removed the cap. Closing her eyes, she raised it to her lips and drank the blood sample, the action causing a flicker of repulsion to cross the faces of Alicia and Patch. For a moment, she was completely still, the bottle held to her lips, looking as though she was the subject of a paused movie frame.

When she let out a loud gasp, she startled all but Stellaria, her frame tensing as she gripped the lower right side of her neck, the place where Boomer was shot, her distress unmistakable as she seemed to struggle to breathe, the tension in the room thickening with each passing second. After a moment, her jaw squirmed, and she emitted a deep, guttural voice that bore a striking resemblance to Boomer's as she shut her eyes tightly. “That little bitch shot me!”

“Who did!?” Alicia interjected demandingly, her voice cutting through the tense silence, her eyes locked onto McKenna.

“The fucking kid! Who do you think!? She’s with him! We should have known!” McKenna groaned and gasped, her voice still laced with pain as she retained the same tone, clutching her neck tightly. When she opened her eyes, it was revealed her pupils were glowing red.

"Who’s ‘him’?” Alicia stood closer to her, her eyes narrowed as she knelt in front of McKenna. She clenched her fists in determination as she demanded to know the answer.

“OUR OLD KING, GENIUS!” McKenna roared before coughing violently and falling to the ground, writhing as she struggled to breathe and clutch her throat.

Dr. Versipelle, unfazed by the display that shocked Patch and Alicia, calmly pressed a button on her watch. In response, electrodes surged through McKenna’s body, causing her to jolt and become limp, panting as she tried to steady her breathing. Stellaria knelt down to the girl who lay helpless on the ground and helped her stand.

“You’re ok. It’s just energy. You haven’t been hurt, my dear,” Stellaria reassured McKenna, who whimpered as she reciprocated the hug she was pulled into.

“Mother…” McKenna whispered, her accent and voice now dramatically different as it became higher pitched and wheezy. Furthermore, the red light was once again absent from her eyes.

“Shhh… follow him back to your room for now and rest, my dear,” Stellaria requested gently, to which McKenna and her lab assistant obliged.

Dr. Versipelle’s demeanor returned to its typical formal state with a hint of cockiness. “In case you’re wondering, the electrodes help ground her back to reality.”

With Alicia and Patch in a state of horror, Patch, with his hand over his mouth, murmured, “Scourge…”

"He’s back!? How!? Fuck!” She roared ferociously, her voice laced with anger and disbelief. “he’s been behind everything. We’ll find him! When we do, we’ll ensure he NEVER sees the light of day again!”

Stellaria chuckled at the outburst, finding grim amusement in the situation. “Oh, that much is clear,” she spoke, her grin growing wider as she observed the raw determination in Alicia’s eyes. “I hope to work with you further, your majesty.”

#archie sonic #sonic archie #sonic archie comics #lightning lynx #predator hawk #scourge the hedgehog #sonic comics #sonic the hedgehog #fiona fox #flying frog #seargent simian #sgt. simian #archie comics #alicia acorn #archie #sonic au #anti mobius #archie sonic comics #anti sonic #sonic fanfiction #sonic original character #sonic oc #sonic fanfic #boomer walrus #patch d'coolette #miles prower #the destructix #destructix #scourge x fiona #suppression squad

[vendettaspathfanfic]

Prologue

(Chapter Index)

(Next)

A display of technological marvel, yet still rotten in more ways than not.

With the ever-increasing environmental degradation, incessant crime, and the overcrowded masses living in despair, many would turn up their nose to such a dystopia.

But to Scourge the Hedgehog, this was home. Once his dad died, this was all he had when he was 11. Although that felt like a lifetime ago, the different sights made him recall his survival instincts from those days. For instance, every shop they passed reminded Scourge of his various strategies when it came to getting away with shoplifting.

He still knew this city like the back of his hand; down to the safest places to sleep and the most rewarding places to dumpster dive. Above all, he knew he was indeed home.

It had been about a day since he and his crew had broken out of Zone Jail. In comparison, this dump was paradise; especially since this is where they’d likely find their base of operations for their various plans.

Given the circumstances, it would be difficult to believe that Scourge used to be the king of this planet. After a few years on the streets, he and his former gang, the Suppression Squad, decided they wanted more than just survival.

They wanted to rise above the rest.

Of course, the best way to do so was to overthrow the king. Many would find such a task to be overly ambitious and even impossible without an army of a thousand soldiers. Luckily, with Princess Alicia on their side, they were able to successfully usurp King Maxx and imprison him in the Zone of Silence.

From that point onwards, Scourge’s rule of Moebius was a rather complicated matter.

On one hand, there was plenty of fun in things such as raising the taxes astronomically, severely punishing those who didn’t pay said taxes, cutting all public funding to keep their world even remotely clean, and other practices that sucked the life out of this world.

However, after struggling to overthrow their holier-than-thou rival, Dr. Julian Kintobor, Scourge himself was overthrown by one of the impatient members of the Suppression Squad named Jeffrey St. Croix.

After an incident on Mobius Prime involving the Master Emerald, his speed and strength tested new limits, and he regained rule of his gang and planet.

If the Suppression Squad didn’t hate him so much for allegedly treating them like shit, he wouldn’t have been betrayed by them with the help of his enemy, Sonic of Mobius Prime. Thanks to them, Sonic defeated him and he was imprisoned in the No Zone for his crimes across the multiverse.

As aforementioned, Zone Jail was no summer camp. With his powers stripped and quills shaved down, he was defenseless at the bottom of the food chain as he was at the epicenter of endless beatings. By dumb luck, his girlfriend, Fiona had gotten herself and a new gang of their own, the Destructix, thrown in Zone Jail. One hop, skip, and prison riot later, they were free and ready to take back what was lost.

More importantly, to take an eye for an eye.

(Stay tuned. Lot more where that came from ;D)

#sonic fanfiction #archie sonic #sonic archie comics #sonic archie #scourge the hedgehog #supression squad #destructix #seargent simian #fiona fox #lightning lynx #predator hawk #flying frog #anti sonic #moebius #anti mobius #evil sonic #sonic oc #sonic original character #sonic fanfic #sonic au #sonic the hedgehog comics #sonic comics #sonic the hedgehog #sonic #cyberpunk #alicia acorn #miles prower #boomer walrus #patch d'coolette #fanfiction

[vendettaspathfanfic]

Howdy y’all so just FYI this fanfiction has also been posted on Ao3! It’s not done yet, but stay tuned for updates!!

(Asks Open!)

~~~~

After breaking out of prison, Scourge and the Destructix take care of some unfinished business in a journey of crime and mayhem as they rise to power. One more thing—expect the unexpected.

~~~~

Chapters Posted:

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

(Cover drawn by @viveela !!)

#scourge #scourge the hedgehog #fiona fox #predator hawk #flying frog #lightning lynx #sgt simian #simon simian #seargent simian #alicia acorn #miles prower #boomer walrus #patch d'coolette #moebius #anti mobius #sonic archie #sonic archie comics #sonic the hedgehog #sonic oc #sonic au #sonic original character #cyberpunk #crime #sonic comics #sonic fandom #archie sonic #archie sonic fandom #action #destructix #sonic fanfiction