Spagonia! Kind of a home away from home after this long. Well, just about everywhere I’ve come back to more than once feels like home now, no matter where it is. Not so friendly cities, wide open fields, doesn’t really matter. I mean, I might not actually have a house or anything, but every time I come back to a place and see it just how I remember it, that’s when it feels like home.

Even if cops are chasing after me because I’m going about double or triple the speed limit, as long as I’m up to speed, I’m where I need to be.

So who needs a home base? Besides, the steep hill coming into Spagonia is to die for. Running at about half top speed is great, but taking that pace downhill, now that’s a rush. It hits fast and-

Oh SHOOT—!

Midday Spins - Sonic - Chapter 3

I did not expect the grass to be wet this morning! Once I cleared the hill, it was a slide that I knew braking wasn’t going to stop. So I leaned into it, pushed the gas, and tried to remember if it was a left or right that leads into that dead-end alleyway.

The one with the spiked steel fence. The one that totally doesn’t feel good on the abdomen at top speed. Had to sit down after that one.

Half a second later, decision time, and I’m steering mostly left. Left it is! Three turns and one with way less traction and I should be—

That’s the fence.

I let the momentum carry me up when I jump, grabbing just below the spiked top two bars. My feet go up and over in a front flip, and just as the force is about to seriously bend my hands and wrist the wrong way, I let go of the steel bars, just as if they were jungle vines.

High speed dead-ends aren’t an issue, not anymore. Guess it’s to the rooftops with me. If I’m too rusty on my way around here, getting to a higher vantage point is the best way to navigate without needing to slow down. I’ve done it before, and after all these years, I can pretty much zip around any area without needing to stop to look where I’m going.

Movement at this pace is the best, it’s all on instinct. By the time I feel nothing below my feet, I’ve already jumped. When I notice I’ve ducked under something, it’s already yards behind me. I may have quick eyes and faster legs, but hitting top speed in a dense area goes beyond just the traditional senses. Movement and muscle memory become everything, and it’s there I can find some sweet, kinetic peace.

Even if I don’t remember how Spagonia is laid out, there’s something in me that remembers. Guess my subconscious has a kind of instinct that I’ll never get to look in the eye. When you get this fast, movements mean a lot.

Just a little kick to my left and I’ve launched off a villa and toward a set of buildings. A hundred rooftops later and I’ve landed. That split second when my shoes touch the ground, I’ve decided I want to hang right. Why?

I have no clue. But when my hands catch a metal bar, I get the picture. Swinging over it, one two, I let go and am sent flying up and on my way. Shingles, chimney tops, water pipes, railways, and balconies all make for stepping stones as I twist and fly through the city around me. It blends together until I close my eyes, just feeling the momentum as I let muscle memory do all the work.

Yep. I remember now. Just the same as it ever was.

Catching another roof by the edges of its shingles, I heft myself up. Breathing in, I take a huge gulp of air, probably the first one I’ve taken in half a minute. Wind from my own speed forward comes rushing after me, slamming me in the back and making me almost tumble across someone’s roof. I lean on an antennae next to me, watching dust, leaves and other rooftop debris fly away from all around me. I let the breath out of my lungs with a shout in the wind, greeting the day with all the volume I got.

“Good morning Spagonia!!!”

There wasn’t much time to lose this morning. Markets woke up earlier than me, and I knew if I wanted to snag some good stuff for the garden, it was gonna be before the rush got there.

Luckily for me, rush doesn’t mean much. Even when I’m late I’m early. The last vendor, she hardly knows what to think, me running through her stall and gathering up a few things in less than a second. Nothing falls off her shelves, but I slow things down anyway.

“Sorry ma’am!” I say up to her surprised expression, dropping a few things on the counter, “This will be all, thanks.”

With a warm smile, she collects the knicknacks off the table and counts up the price. I think I have the money? Reaching into the pack on my back, I dig around over my shoulder for it, trying to not make the hole at the bottom of the bag any worse. Really gotta patch this thing. Just as she’s getting a paper bag for everything, I get the money on the table.

“Keep the change!” I say, grabbing my stuff and heading out. While that was probably double the price, I got no doubt in my head that Tails’ couch in his old lab will probably end up reimbursing me later. It’s only a day’s run back, so if I really wanted to I could pull an all nighter to get more spending money. Weaving through the cramped alleyways of the outer-end markets, I take a few skips and leaps over buildings and yards to the plaza.

Early enough in the morning, no one’s here but the ducks I managed to not scare off with my landing. I do skid a bit, and almost end up falling right into the fountain where a few are swimming together under the sprinkling water. When my gut hits the stone, one splashes water in my face to get away.

“Sorry geese and gals.” I say, picking myself up off the fountain edge. A few of them stuck around and stare at me with cautious side eyes, “Don’t give me that. Here.”

The bread I have leftover from breakfast is hardly together, all crumbled and dry from the wind. Still, I have a few takers that swim right up to me for a few bites. “Locals got you eating good, huh?” They’re almost picky, but I let them gobble down the rest, “That was fresh this morning you know! Straight from the next town over the mountains. Nowhere you featherheads could reach easily.”

They swim away, quacking softly. Tough crowd. There isn’t enough of the bread left for anything decent, so I leave it on the fountain edge as I hop off. All about the plaza, I see people leaving their houses, opening up the windows and doors on their balconies. Mainlanders and islanders alike are starting to make the place a little populated, and I’m about to make myself scarce when I see a familiar face.

“Ray!” I shout over at him.

Jumping at my yell, he almost drops the apple he’s sampling. A few more are in his hands, and he gathers them up more closely as the vendor in front of him puts the bills away, “Sonic!” he waves and runs over to me, placing the apple he was eating between his teeth before throwing me one.

I catch it, “Dude, I didn’t know you were on the mainland! How do you like this one?” I wave an arm behind me, “Pretty cool spot huh?”

“It’s awesome here!” he says excitedly, dumping the apples in a bag on his shoulder, “The Chaotix paid our way, tickets, rooms, everything!”

“That’s a sweet deal,” I say, giving the apple a quick spin on my finger, “If you’re up for cramped flights in those tube planes, that is. Why’d you have to pay? Just skip across the ocean like a rock, I know you have the juice for it.”

Ray shakes his head at me, looking embarrassed, “I might, but those waves are scary. I don’t know how you do it.”

“Carefully,” I say, flinging up the apple and letting it fall into my backpack behind me, shooting him a smile, “But for the record, it helps to get an energy drink in night before.”

Ray starts walking alongside me to the main street. We walk past vendors that have tourist trap sales and souvenir handouts. I’m offered a couple, but politely decline. Throwing the paper bag over my shoulder, I let Ray give me the updates.

Since Eggman’s last stand, he’s been working with the Chaotix Detective Agency a little bit, helping them with security alongside Mighty. He’s not really the detective type, but I know Vector likes to have more muscle on his side. And Ray’s a pretty tricky guy to fight, especially with Mighty always in his corner, ready to knock out anyone that even looks at him the wrong way.

They’re here together, seeing the sights. Soon he’s talking about all the neat stuff they’ve seen and I listen. It’s nice to talk to someone after a few months camping around. The afternoon rolls on, and we’ve been in and out of a few stores. I watch him try on a few sunglasses before going with a rad green pair that cost way too much money.

“Man, can’t wait for the party tonight,” Ray tells me, brandishing a pose in his new shades, “It’s gonna be cool!”

“Party huh?” I fold my arms, “What kind?”

“I heard they’re having an open party in the plaza. Some kind of festival for the month. Don’t know what about though, but I heard they got a DJ, lights, everything!”

“Sounds pretty cool to me,” I say, walking along with him, “Too bad I’m skippin’ town tonight, otherwise I’d jam with you.” Just as we turn on the main street, I hear a mainlander hail Ray down.

“Outta luck, kid,” he says, “That festival’s canceled.”

“What?!” Ray looks up at the guy, dismayed, “Why?”

“DJ’s out. Some kinda hiccup, I’m not sure,” the guy says, “Either way, no DJ, no festival.”

“Man…” Ray looks down, “I was looking forward to having a party in a place like this.”

With a shrug of my shoulders, I try to walk a little faster, “That’s too bad. Well, guess it wasn’t fated to happen-“

“Wait!”

I stop. No Ray, bud, don’t you do it.

“Aren’t you a DJ? Like, technically?” Ray comes up behind me enthusiastically, stopping me, “You could totally fill in for him! It would rock!”

“No no, nope.” I shake my head, “No can do. I did that like, one time. Yeaaaars ago. I even messed up, they wouldn't take me back after that.”

“You DJ?” the guy behind us asks, “We could really use a fill in, you’d help us alot here.”

“I don’t, really!” I raise my hands up in defense at them both, “It was for a stupid commercial, one time. I was in the city and needed some money, so…”

“C’mon Sonic, you gotta do it!” Ray grabs my shoulder with both hands.

“I can’t, I wish I could! I don’t got equipment or anything…in fact, I was on the road and was gonna leave tomorrow mor--”

“Well, we got some stuff. Enough to get you by,” the man says, walking next to us on the street.

“Nah man,” I try shutting him down, “Ray’s talking me up. I’m not a DJ, really.”

“The pay they got for the gig is pretty sizable from what I know,” he says.

...

Ah, shoot.

I stop walking. I do need cash. That would save me a trip back home, wouldn’t it? And a run across the ocean…hmm.

“How…sizable?” I ask.

The man looks at Ray before leaning down to me, whispering the amount in my ear. I feel both perk up. Hey, hey, that’s not that bad! That’s actually really good, just for one night?

“Huh!” I say, then feel my foot start to tap, “Well, I mean, uh…hm.”

“Please Sonic?” Ray looks at me, pleading, “It would be so cool to go to a party in Spagonia! Especially if I know the DJ!”

My foot taps faster as I mull it over. They wait. Pretty sure Ray doesn’t breathe.

“Eh alright. What the heck.”

Ray gives a fist pump and shakes my shoulder a little, “Yess! Thanks Sonic!”

“I’ll see what I can work out with the manager,” the guy says, “Just stay here in the plaza, I’ll tell them to meet you here if it’s a go.”

“Sure, sure,” I wave him off, “I guess two nights in the same place won’t kill me.”

After he leaves, Ray and I are left to enjoy the afternoon around town. Once we’ve hit up the main spots of the plaza, he plops down on a bench, eating another apple from his bag. I take a seat next to him, enjoying the sunshine and company.

You’d probably get a kick out of this place too, Tails. Just you wait. I’ll pry you out of that dingy old lab one of these days.

He arrests my attention back with a hand on my shoulder, apple core in his other hand, “Hey, next time you do go running across an entire ocean, at least tell somebody which sea you’re skipping across!” he says, giving me a worried look, “You don’t exactly have Tails on coms anymore.”

“Eh, like I said, I’m careful enough,” I say with a shrug, “Do it enough times and it gets easier to handle.”

“Easier to handle?” he echoes, “It’s the ocean!”

“Dude, it’s fine. Have you seen my top speed lately? I hardly touch water when I go for it anymore,” I brush his hand off my shoulder. He laughs, clearly not believing me, when someone blocks the sun in front of us.

“I bet he brought floaties.”

We both look to the new voice, and it’s Mighty. He unfolds his arms and offers me a fist bump with a small smile.

I accept and retort, “Did not.”

“Then you’re stupid,” He laughs at me, “What if you trip on a wave, huh?”

“Kick your legs hard enough and you pop out the water like a boogie board,” I say with a smirk, “Not that you’d know, you’d sink like a rock.”

“Whatever,” he rolls his eyes, “At least I can swim once I sink.”

Despite the fact that he’s all jokes with me, I can tell they’re both a little concerned. If I caught them in a bad mood, they’d probably push the issue and make me get on the com line with the Chaotix. Instead, he doesn’t, catching an apple from Ray and taking a crunch at it. Good. The thought of Honey ringing me up the second I don’t answer a call makes my head hurt.

“Ray,” he says with a full mouth, “Gotta come back to the hotel. Chaotix just called, we’re needed.”

“We have to leave? Already?” Ray looks at Mighty, wide eyed.

“Nah, we can have this meeting remotely. But depending on what that meeting entails, the next week is up in the air,” Mighty says.

“Anything important?” I ask as Ray gets up and gets his stuff together.

“Shouldn’t be. Probably just some investigations tying up some loose ends around the last stand,” Mighty says, taking another bite of the apple, “Not sure why that case is even open anymore. You checked everything right?”

“Every square inch,” I say, leaning back on the bench now that there’s more room, “It was about two months of solid checking, Tails had to pry me away. Battlefield had nothing, zip traces, and all known Egg Bases were clean as a whistle. I even checked for more before I finally gave it a rest and started my vacay. No way Egghead made it out, underground or by the air.”

Mighty gives a huff, “Yeah, now that I think about it, I remember you looking really ugly for a few months after that. Did you even sleep?”

I lean my head back on the bench, “My dude, those two months are the reason I even have a no-sleep record at all.”

As my head falls back on the memory, even as hazy as those two months were, I feel Ray smack a hand on my shoulder.

“Thanks for hanging out with me today, Sonic. Hopefully I’ll be out of that meeting in time for the party, mister DJ!” Ray says, hefting up his shoulder bag, “Please, take a plane home whenever you decide to leave afterwards, okay?”

I roll my eyes, “I’ll think about it. You two stay safe though, y’hear?”

With a pat on Ray’s shoulder, Mighty starts walking down the main street. I wave them bye as the afternoon sun crawls into a warm, orange evening. Once they’re gone, I shrug off my pack and let it rest in front of me on the bench. I pull out a few of my finds, making sure everything’s still here. A few figurines, one representative of each landmark around. A deck of cards--Knuckles asked me to grab him one from somewhere on my run. A good photo frame, I can probably print the picture when I get to the old lab…

I dig around some more. Shoot, did I lose it?

“Nah, there you are.”

I pull out the shell bracelet from my bag. It’s tied with a black string, mismatched holes in each shell.

Along the coasts, I’ve been gathering a few shells here and there. In fact, each shell is from a different beach. I may not be as good of a DIY guy, but I think this gift’s coming along pretty sweet. Seeing it in progress though, it’s nowhere near ready. I hold the bracelet up in the light. Looks almost like the one she gave me all that time ago. Except, well, the shells don’t match at all.

I twirl the shell bracelet around on my finger a little bit, then test the knot to make sure it’s secure before stuffing it back in the bag. It’s the best I got. Whatever. She’ll love it. For sure.

I hope.

Hopping up, I groan. Man, I can feel myself growing roots. A whole day in one spot. This place is gathering dust.

If I didn’t promise that random dude a DJ, I could get outta here and be in the next town by dark. I pull the strings on my bag closed, before I feel a tap on my shoulder.

A jerboa boy, clearly either an islander or a nomad like me. His tall green ears are flopped down by a green beanie. The rest of his fur is black, and the gloves he has on are clearly meant for heavy duty work, worn and brown. He’s got orange hiking boots on, and the clothes he has on don’t look all that new, which makes me think that he could be a traveler too. He talks in a different language, but it’s one I understand. He signs the sentence out with his hands, and while I am a little rusty, I get the picture.

He’s talking out loud too. It’s very slight, but I can tell he’s deaf.

“Are you Sonic? One of my associates told me you’d be helping us tonight.”

I smile and respond the best I can, trying to remember signs on the fly, making a few before I put a hand on my chest, “That’s me.”

He seems surprised, “Oh, you actually speak in…?”

“Yeah.” I nod, “I learn a lot of languages. Have to if I want to travel.”

“Travel.” He corrects, making a snaking motion with his index and middle finger. I smile. Whoops.

“Right, travel.” I make the right sign this time. He gives an earnest smile, nodding happily.

“I can read your lips, you don’t have to sign if you don’t want to,” he says out loud. His voice is really soft, but I can understand him just fine.

“It’s okay!” I sign enthusiastically, determined to get it right, “I need to practice.”

“You’re very good,” he says back, “Not rusty at all. My name is Scrap,” he offers me a hand.

I shake it, “Sonic,” I say out loud, “So, you’re the manager person?”

“Not quite,” he says. I notice he has a huge backpack on, one that he sits down next to the bench, “I come here often, and when I do they pull me into organizing events.”

“You’re telling me! I wasn’t here for a day and now I’m the DJ!”

“It’s the town’s bad habit,” he says with a chuckle, “But I like being involved. As long as I get to move on the next day.”

“You said it,” I say, “So you travel too, huh?”

“As much as I can,” Scrap says, “Not usually to towns like this. But yes.”

I nod, “Well, lead the way. Daylight’s fading fast.”

He signs back, “Just as it always does.”

Setting things up is a cinch with that kid around. He can’t be much older than Tails, although that could just be because of how quiet he is. Moving equipment was easy; he didn’t need help even with the heavy speakers. Whoever this kid is, he must live outdoors. You don’t get that kinda muscle unless you rough it like Knuckles. I can cheat walls by running up them, but people like him can get over mountains the old fashioned way.

By the time we’re done, he’s clearly exhausted though. I speed through the rest of the little details while he sits down on a speaker, hanging some banners and making sure everything’s plugged in alright. When I wrap things up, I notice he’s looking at me with some kind of distant looking admiration. It’s like he’s seen me before.

“I take it you’re a fan?” I offer a smile.

“Ah, yeah,” he says, looking slightly embarrassed as he stands, “I’ve seen you around. We tend to go to some same spots.”

“Really? Where’d you see me last?”

“Adabat, I think. I went for the beach. You must have gone for the jungle,” he says.

“Oh yeah, that place rocks,” I say, fond at the memory, “That wasn’t too long ago, dude. You traveled the continents in that time?” I ask, kind of impressed.

“I get around,” he says, “One way or another.”

“Well hey, it was cool to meet you Scrap,” I say, offering a hand, “Next time you see me somewhere, don’t be a stranger.”

“For sure,” he says, taking the handshake firmly. The sun’s dipping down, giving me my cue to hit the lights. Once I do, the entire brick plaza is showered in pink, purple and blue lights all around. People are even starting to show up, just a little earlier than Scrap said. I turn back to tell him something, but he’s already gone. I chuckle.

“Not often someone beats me outta town,” I say, “Goodluck dude, wherever is is you’re going.” I take a seat on the fountain, watching people wander about the plaza. I can’t find Ray or Mighty. Geez, that’s a long meeting huh? I wonder who has them on the line…maybe Tails. That or Vector, if it isn’t all that serious.

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Tails, more or less, has acted like an organizer for rebuilding on most of the islands. While he isn’t the only leader, he’s taken almost total management of getting our main base back in order, mostly in providing building power and materials. Getting projects done is Tails’ forte, where Amy’s is being a help. She visits homes, provides transportation for those who need it, and does a great job as a volunteer for some of the relief shelters Tails has set up, making food, helping families get the essentials they need. Out of all my friends, it surprises me that Knuckles of all people is the one who’s more likely to see the world than anyone else. I’ve been chippin’ away at him, pestering to get off that stupid boulder and see some of the cultures he studies in person.

He’s always got an excuse. But I think I’ve just about unearthed the guy like the stone cold artifact he is. I smile, Man, you’d like it here too, Knux. When are ya just gonna take the leap already and stop being such a rock in the mud?

I get a tap on my shoulder as I recline on the bench, hand holding up my head. It’s that dude from earlier.

“Oh, right. I have a job to do. You got music files on that thing right?” I open an eye up to him. Maybe I’ll let him talk my ear off for a little bit. When’d I last sleep?

“We sure do,” he says, “Thank you so much for agreeing to this. Without you this wouldn’t be possible.

I wave him off, “Yeah, don’t thank me yet. I already told you I’m hardly any good. But I can probably remember all the motions pretty quick,” I say, “Besides, it wasn’t just me. That guy Scrap helped with the setup.”

“Hm?” the man looks at me strange, “Who?”

“Scrap,” I say firmly, “That jerboa kid. Green ears? Speaks sign language?”

“I have no clue who you’re talking about,” the man admits, “I do know a green jeroba that helps out occasionally, but he’s not deaf. And he certainly isn’t named something like Scrap.”

“Huh…” That one’s surprising. There aren’t too many green jerboa around. That’s the thing about our species, it’s pretty easy to remember a face. I hop up from the bench, That just doesn’t add up. My foot starts tapping quickly, and I don’t notice that the guy’s saying something to me until he taps my shoulder again.

“Sorry, come again?”

“I was just saying uh, you’re up.”

“Oh. Right. The job. And the pay is…when…?”

“After the event is over.”

“Eh, fine,” I can feel my eye roll as I make my way to the table, grabbing a crate nearby so I can actually stand well enough above it to operate the thing. I crack my knuckles, stretching my arms forward as I look for Ray in the crowd. He’s not here. Poor kid, I surely thought Mighty would cave in like the big softy he is and take some notes for him while he gets one more night of fun.

Must be something somewhat important then. Or maybe…maybe they already ditched for a flight? I grab the headphones from the side of the rack, Maybe I shoulda hit them up for a com connection offer…just to maybe check in.

I shake my head, Oh c’mon, don’t do that. You’ve been checking in a pot that’s never gonna boil. Everything’s been fine for almost a year now, so just live in the moment.

As if to goad me on cue, I see a familiar face in the crowd. It’s that jerboa kid from earlier. He stands in the back, away from the main lights, watching me. When we meet eyes, he offers a thumbs up. I give him one back, then turn to the equipment.

“Alright. A lightspeed show and then I’m outta here,” I say, turning on my mic, “Let’s get this party started!”

As I put on the first track, and as people start to dance, I notice the jerboa is gone.

Something about him feels…familiar.

I step down from the turntable, receiving a pat on my shoulder from the guy who better pay me soon, “That was a wonderful show! You really saved this one, thank you so much!”

I yawn, “I tried. Pretty snazzy for rusty hands, huh?”

As he's going on about something else, I look around at those leaving. It's crazy late, and if I want to get a good running start tomorrow, I have to get to setting up camp soon. "Well, it's been rad," I say to the man, probably interrupting something he was saying, "You got the cash, or?"

"Right! Right, here, I was able to get it from the manager..."

"You mean that jerboa?"

"Well again, I don't think we're talking about the same person..."

"Doesn't matter," I say, watching them count it out and hand it to me. Pretty sweet for just one night. Maybe I should do this more often, “Thanks! See ya!”

Sheesh, I thought I’d never get out of there. My quills were starting to feel static charged just standing there for a few hours. Still, the cash is neat. Now I don’t need to risk getting waterlogged going back home for a few bucks. I take a few extra spins around the town until I make it to clear, open nature just a few miles outside of any residential spaces. Here, there’s no risk of running into anybody. These kind of places where I can let loose, that’s where I really fly.

So I do. I let the peace and wind take me, despite its cold. I soon go so fast that I doubt my feet are even hitting earth anymore. Every detail, even the ones I don’t notice, form in a completely comprehensible line of thought and motion. At speeds like this, everything feels so simple. I let myself coast until a hill comes, and I launch off. Tucking my arms in, I feel myself flip over and over sideways, spinning like a rocket straight off into open air.

When I finally land, I take a breath. Coasting down to a stop, I realize I’m a good ways out. The momentum dissipates, and I reach a cliff. Stopping on a foot, I let the forward motion carry me like a skipping stone, stopping just before the cliff’s edge. That familiar wind comes in behind me, just a bit late, and I let it move around me. It’s a comforting presence, that afterburn of high speed. It lets me know I’m here, and just how fast I was moving. Like the sun, or a splash of water in your face, it helps remind my body that I’m awake.

Feels good.

Just as I get comfortable on the cliff face overlooking the valley below, I hear some scuffling against rock. Peeking down, I see that jerboa kid against the sheer cliff face. He’s got his gloved hands almost wedged in hand holds, his boots dug into rock, his face knit in fierce concentration. This high up…oh shoot does he have a safety line?

“Dude, what are you doing?” I say down to him, he’s just a few yards below my feet. Then I remember he’s deaf. Crap, what if he falls? I can probably climb down in a few seconds to get him, but…

“Focusing, thanks,” he says, and the response catches me by surprise. He talked just now with absolutely no change in tone. No lisp. Clear as a whistle. I stare down at the kid with my eyes narrowed.

“Hey, what’s the deal with you? Climbing this high is dangerous without something to catch you! And what happened to your ears, I thought—”

“None of your business—” he starts to say before heaving himself up a few feet, digging his fingers into the rock.

I shrug. That’s true I guess. “Yeah well, while it ain’t my business, I don’t exactly wanna see a jeroba pancake cooking tutorial either.”

He digs into the cliff so with so much force that I’m surprise he’s not in pain. Maybe not as strong as Knuckles when he really gets serious, but he’s tough. When he jumps again I feel my shoulders rise involuntarily as he’s in the open air for a second and a half, before digging his hands and feet into the rockface once again. Despite the fact that he’s making his own footholds, the whole jumping thing sends huge shivers of dread up and down my quills. If he slips up on just one part of that, it could avalanche into a problem I can’t solve.

Could I run around this cliff and where he would land in time? It’s too uneven to run down it. The anticipation makes me stand on my tip toes, shoulders tight.

“Dude, take it easy!” I spit out, "You might wanna be careful!” I shout down at him.

“Careful?” he looks up at me, just a few feet below where I’m leaning over the edge, “Nah. I prefer it this way. Don’t you understand how it works, Sonic?”

I stare at him, then find myself gripping the grass. I don’t like that vacant look in his eyes. It’s the same look I see in some people’s eyes when they need help, that emptiness that shouts out at me.

“You don’t fear the fall. Neither do I.”

He pushes himself off the rock, quickly moving his hands behind his head, and I act on instinct. Just like with the roofs today, my body moves before I tell it to. I didn’t think about how the gravity would feel. I’ve fallen out of planes, I’ve sky dived dozens of times, splitting the air from the stratosphere to the ground, but that sensation of falling never gets old. And I never stop noticing the fear. This guy doesn’t have that fear on his face at all. He doesn’t respect it. I feel myself shouting as I reach out for his him in a wild, unthought attempt. What will I do when I grab him? My feet are only just barely touching the cliff. Getting a kick back to pull him in, that’s a thin chance. A real thin chance.

The jeroba’s hands are folded behind his head, a vacant look in his eyes but a weary smile on his face.

Being on vacation has made me way too thoughtless, and that thought is the only thing that registers right before I shout, realizing we’re falling.

Maybe I can turn mid-air, cushion his fall, maybe I can--

Just as we both dip over the cliff, something happens. That sensation stops completely. I watch as the jerboa unfolds his hands from behind his head and catches me, holding me up by my shoulders as I land with a slam against him, my feet pedaling back in the open air. His feet are dug into the earth, almost buried up to his knees, as he stands horizontal on the cliff face. After the weight pushes us down a few feet, his legs standing firm while the earth moves around them, we finally stop.

“Yo…” I squirm in his grip, looking at his legs. I may have strength there too, but I don’t just stand vertically on walls. That takes momentum, and I hear some kind of electric surge vibrating through his legs, no, his entire body. It’s like the hum from Tails’ gigantic lab computers.

He’s just doing it out of sheer strength. Mighty may be able to pull this off, but he’d sweat about it. This kid doesn’t look like he’s sweating at all. His face is calm, his expression vacant, as he takes a few steps up the cliff, trudging through the rock as if it were icy snow. When he reaches the edge, I jump back on my feet, and only then do I see that his boots are basically ruined.

I see his ankles. They’re nothing but metal.

“You’re a…”

I don’t want to say badnik, even though that’s my impulse. Some people would get offended by that, whether their heart be made of muscle or silicon. I’ve met enough robots in this big blue world of ours to know that there are tons of creations out there, including robots, who think just like you and me.

Either way, there’s no way Egghead made this thing.

He tried once, a long time ago, to copy Shadow. But according to Rouge’s story, they were all duds. Metal Sonic is another ordeal, just another robot that looks like a robot. Whatever this kid is, he isn’t robotic. But he isn’t flesh and blood either. I feel my foot tapping again and consciously stop it.

“Sorry to scare you, Sonic,” he says with a small smile, his raspy little voice now as clear as ever. Now that he’s talking clearly, he reminds me even more of Tails.

He looks at me, almost nervous now.

“But I couldn’t help it. There was no danger. I’m built very well. You can say robot. Android. Whatever you prefer.”

I let out a low whistle, “I’ll just uh…call you by your name?” I say, stepping back from the cliff face he just mauled. I let myself fall back onto the grass, “Which is something I don’t know, because that guy in town says it’s definitely not Scrap.”

Scrap sighs, sitting down next to me on the cliff, lowering one foot cautiously, before the other. He takes his time when he sits, almost as if it hurts. Huh. You don’t look as well built as you say. When he takes off his boot, all that I see is metal. Just above where his ankle would be is fake skin and some kind of clear, mesh muscle, thinner than I expected. With his hands, he picks at the pieces to make them even as he talks to me.

“That’s not my real name. I have many that I just kind of make up on the spot. Scrap. Dusty. Basil. Whatever comes to my mind, really. Nobody remembers my name long enough for it to matter,” he says.

I nod. He acts no older than Tails’ age. But just like him, I see some maturity under there somewhere. He isn’t an Eggman design, but he’s got the complexity of a genius at work. The electric noises from before begin to die down as we sit there, until the noises are no more. He focuses on picking at the skin until finally, the cutoff from false skin to the robotic limb underneath is even. He puts his ruined boot back on. Besides the holes that show a shine in metal, it looks relatively normal.

“In the crowd back there? You looked like you knew me,” I say, “And honestly, now that I think about it, I saw you in Adabat, and a few other places.”

His expression flickers with embarrassment, “So you noticed.”

“Yeah, well I was moving pretty fast. I can’t notice everything,” I say, “So answer me with a truth this time. What’s your deal?” I look at him, and his vacant expression meets up with my eyes, “Are you in trouble or something?”

It’s slim, but he could be a runaway robot. Whoever made this guy, maybe they’re cruel, like Eggman. Robots have rebelled against their creators before, I’ve gotten the pleasure of working with a few. The more I think about it, the more I realize that this could be the exact same situation. Almost every part of him looks worn down, right to the hat on the beanie top of his head that keeps his tall, pointy ears pinned down like folded sails.

His eyes look hesitant when they look away from me.

“I can help if something’s wrong,” I say, trying to keep my tone gentle. If I insist, he might just run off with how jumpy he looks about it. I gotta break the tension, so I sit up, placing my hands on my knees.

“With those legs, you can probably jump right outta here and to the bottom of the cliff if you wanted to, huh?” I say, looking at him expectantly. He looks back at me, the static fading from his expression. He nods with a slight smile.

“Sorry. I don’t mean to worry you,” he says, taking off his beanie. His ears pop out and point up, a lot like Big’s, but without the big-ness to match. They’re just huge ears, with a green mess of tousled hair inbetween.

Looks like it hasn’t been combed in weeks. He looks at me, taking a breath, then placing the hat on his lap. He studies the leather label on it for a second, and folds it before I can see what it says.

“There’s nothing you can really do to help me,” he says, looking down at where the hat is folded in his hands, “You’ve done enough. Eggman’s defeated,” he looks to me, his eyes looking empty into me, “You were the one who took him down a year ago, right?”

“Yep, that was me,” I say with a smile, “Story of my life.”

“Eggman was a terrible genius,” Scrap says, some distant admiration lacing his voice, “A great mind.”

“You’re giving the fat guy too much credit I think,” I let out a half chuckle before I see his expression. It’s somber. With a breath, I lie down on my back, hands behind my head, “So…what’d you see of him? Were you with the Resistance at all?”

“He kidnapped me.”

My ears perk up. Scrap’s now brought his knees to his chest. His eyes have changed. He focuses on the horizon beyond the cliff, staring into the blue night sky without a trace of movement. It’s a far winded shout from the vacancy I saw there earlier. But it still makes my stomach turn. Eggman’s done so many terrible things, I keep forgetting that a simple kidnapping isn’t outside his low. Plenty of my friends have been his victims.

I was once, too. It makes me look at him as he talks. He’s still staring out into that horizon, as if he were reading it like a book.

“I don’t know how long I was there. My memories of the entire event have been wiped. The last thing I remember is waking up in a ruined base. When I came to the surface, he was…gone. Instantaneous in time, no memories in between.”

I sit up, watching as his stare looks as if it tries to tear a hole in the sky, focused like a laser beam. When he doesn’t move for a few seconds, I place a hand on his shoulder. He looks at me, his grip on his knees loosening.

“Well, from one ex-Eggman-captive to another, I’m glad you got out of there,” I say, then feel my tone drag, “And…I’m sorry I couldn’t bust you out myself.”

He smiles, his expression breaking through his focus like a gentle light coming in through smoke. He lets go of his legs, slowly, as his knuckles relax.

“Was there any…damage afterwards?” I scratch the back of my ear with my free hand, “Being cooped up in a cell didn’t do me wonders, but he never actually did anything to me. But with you, sounds like a different story.”

“The memories are fuzzy. I am not…whole?” he says, looking unsure about his words.

When I feel myself wince, he fumbles over the words, “In code! Only in code, there’s just some critical data missing for my body regulation. However, my actual hardware will last years before anything breaks. The software simply tricks me sometimes when it runs over missing code, that’s all.”

“Is that…” I consider, then look at his ears.

He nods, “Every day I lose some kind of sense. But every night when I go to sleep, the cycle repeats and I gain the sense back.”

“Huh. That’s…” I shake my head. If I just woke up blind one day I’d be in some trouble, “You travel like that?”

“I’m very good at making camp,” he says with some pride in his voice, “Good enough to keep up with you, at least.”

“Hah, that so?” I say grinning, “You still haven’t told me why you’re following me, ya creep.”

“I’m not following you exactly. Just more so on your general path. You’re seeing the major cities of the world, right?”

“Yup. And a few repeats for good measure.”

“There are many reasons I keep running into you,” he says, slowly, “We have the same lifestyle,” he puts up a finger, “I enjoy distant company,” he puts up another, before looking irritated, “I thought I could do this indefinitely since you didn’t notice me, but now that you have, I suppose it’s time to stop.”

“Eh, whatever floats your boat. I don’t mind,” I say, “Anyone who can keep up with me and hates Eggman is a friend of mine, even if the fight’s over. If you wanna see the sights with me, go right ahead. You aren’t the first person to try and keep up in my wake.”

This gets a laugh out of him. “You aren’t easy to keep up with! If I was actually trying to follow your every move, I would have lost you in Adabat for certain,” he says, twisting the beanie in his hands, “Even if I could fly, following you’s a full time job.”

I find myself grinning at that. Hah, speaking of…

“Y’know, maybe I can call Tails down from his lonely little workshop to see what he can do about fixing you up. He’s kinda a genius. Maybe he could get your programming back in order so that you don’t have to worry so much,” I say, gesturing to his ankle, “You look like you could use some maintenance, all around.”

“That would be very generous of you,” he says with a smile.

“So…you gonna tell me your real name or not?” I lean back in the grass, looking up at the stars.

“Right,” he says, “It’s Flint. Flint the Jerboa.”

“Good to meet you, Flint.”

He gets up, “It’s about time I make camp for the night.”

“Not gonna make camp here?” I say, getting comfortable, “Sure is a nice night.”

“I’ve taken up enough of your time already, really,” Flint says, holding his beanie with both hands, “I haven’t caught dinner either.”

“Eh, don’t worry about it. Ray made me miss hanging out with somebody every once in a while,” I say, before looking up, “Wait, you eat? But, you’re mechanical.”

“I can eat. Not that I need to,” he says, “But it helps me not need solar energy as much,” with a tap on his ears, I watch the black fur there turn over, and suddenly his ears are entirely made of metal. They look like the same stuff that’s on solar panels.

“Woah, that’s sick,” I say, pointing to the hat that covered up most of his ears earlier, “So why the hat? Doesn’t that block solar power?”

Flint looks down, as if encountering the question for the first time. I already know the answer. It’s a self imposed challenge. Kid’s bored.

I hop up, making him jump.

“Eh, don’t bother answering. I get it! Never fear the fall right? No fun if there’s no fall.”

And in less than a second grab a cup from my bag run and scoop some water from a river hundreds of yards away. When I slide back into my spot, Flint has blinked. I give him a wink, offering the cup. His expression is flustered, grinning like somebody his age, like a kid is supposed to grin all the time, not just rarely.

He takes it, giving me that sensation of pleasant company for the second time today. I didn’t know how scarce that commodity was about to get.