Chapter Text
The night sky over Central City was filled with spotlights as chaos erupted within the Sweepstakes Colosseum. The Restoration shuttle was listing to the side as it descended uncontrollably, emergency lights blaring across its bow. Occasionally, the booming sound of cannon fire or the crackling of electricity would echo from the deck, hints of the fierce battle being waged aboard.
But Mimic wasn’t paying attention to that fight right now—he was busy trying to save his own skin. As he accelerated down the race track on his hoverboard, chased by his former ‘comrades’ in a deadly pursuit, his mind was still processing just how badly things had gone.
«I’m a professional, for Gaia’s sake! What kind of amateur leaves his radio on at full volume? And why the hell is Clutch yelling for me to come save his ass? He has a whole network of goons to do his dirty business for him, right?! What in the name of CHAOS is going ON right now?!-»
Suddenly, he caught the distinct whizz of a Wispon bolt heading straight for his head. He cursed and ducked under the offending shot, snapping out of his self-scolding long enough to snarl at the wolf behind him.
«I really should pay more attention to where Whisper is aiming. Well, two can play that game, pup!»
Mimic pulled a concealed blaster out of his cloak and aimed it at Whisper with a malicious smirk. A personal gift from Clutch, salvaged from stolen Eggtech so that he wouldn’t have to deal with a Wisp again. He squeezed off a handful of rounds at her, but if Whisper had been surprised by his new toy, she didn’t let that stop her from maneuvering expertly through the laser fire. He cursed under his breath as he looked back at the course ahead, dipping underneath the track with his hoverboard to block the hail of Wispon fire.
“You really messed up this time, Mimic!” cried a shrill and energetic voice behind him.
Mimic glanced back to see Tangle rushing forward on her hover-skates, tail ready to ensnare him. He rolled his eyes and fired a quick burst at her, smirking at her surprised yelp as she slowed down to avoid his shots. But no sooner did he manage to ward off the lemur that another Wispon bolt came screaming at him. He served on his board hard, narrowly avoiding becoming fried calamari but losing speed in the process, allowing both of his pursuers a chance to catch up.
And so the chase continued, with neither Mimic nor the Diamond Cutters being able to land a good hit on the other. Mimic pulled out of a dive to crest over an incoming ramp, and nearly fell off of his board for his troubles. As he regained his balance, he looked back at the top of the course with a smirk.
«At least it’s only two out of three… seems like Lanolin couldn’t handle the fact that poor, sweet, innocent Duo was really me all along… Oh, how I wish I could have savored that look of horror on her face!»
Mimic shook his head, dissipating that thought as he accelerated his hoverboard once again.
«I might have gotten lucky with Lanolin, but I still screwed up badly. Clutch is the one who exposed me, but I should have known something would go wrong when I got cornered by that tenrec and her little pet fennec. Damn traitors… can’t trust anyone, especially your teammates…»
Mimic shuddered as he recalled Surge’s sharp grin and the dangerous glint in the Kit’s eye as they gave him their ultimatum.
“What’ll it be, Tentacles? Try your luck with the Diamond Cutters and Clutch up there… or with us?”
He glanced briefly at the airship as it lurched towards the stadium, faint emergency lights blaring across its hull. His grip on his blaster tightened as he saw a flash of lightning on board, a tell-tale sign of the tenrec fighting onboard.
«Clutch is a rat stuck on his own sinking ship, and I could've flown halfway out of Central City before anyone would have known I was gone! Instead, here I am, getting chased by Whisper and her gal pal when I’m supposed to be the one hunting her! Of all the-»
His thoughts were interrupted as he instinctively swerved to the side to dodge the incoming hail of Wispon bolts, lifting his blaster to return fire. But before he could get on target, one of the bolts collided with his gloved hand, reducing his blaster into scrap metal and leaving him defenseless.
“End of the line, Mimic!” shouted Tangle, gunning forward with a victorious grin on her face and her tail formed into a lasso.
Before he could react, another bolt from Whisper connected with his extreme gear, sending Mimic into free-fall. Hearing the sparking and hissing from the engine, he quickly threw the exploding gear towards his pursuers as he plummeted towards the energy grid below the race track. Normally, that grid was supposed to act as a safety net, catching anyone from falling all the way to the ground if their extreme gear malfunctioned off the track. Now, it was a fast-approaching cage, ready to ensnare him at the mercy of Whisper and Tangle.
«If I land on that grid, I’m trapped. And if I miss the grid, I go splat on the ground! Better think of something fast, damnit!»
He looked around desperately for anything he could use, and noticed that below the grid was a floating set of stadium stands, filled to the brim with slack-jawed audience members all watching the carnage unfolding above him. With no time to spare, he immediately twisted in the air, barely slipping through the gaps in the energy grid as he plummeted towards the stands. It was a desperate ploy, but it was his only chance at escape.
Already, his body had begun to transform. His head tentacles conjoined and blended together, widening until on each side of his head were two flapping ears. His sharp beak softened into a gentle snout, purple fur covering his body in place of slimy octopus skin. His scarf transformed into a set of aviator goggles, manifested squarely onto his once bald head.
His dog disguise completed, Mimic fell into a roll as his legs finally connected with the platform. He gasped as a sharp pain shot up his legs, causing him to fall to his hands and knees. He gritted his faux canine teeth, taking a few agonizing seconds to collect himself, before he stood back up. Around him were wide-eyed spectators all looking up at the fireball in the sky, seemingly unaware of Mimic’s presence. He limped as casually as he could to a railing he could lean on, watching the smoke slowly dissipate from his exploded gear. He glanced around, confused at the lack of response from the crowd.
«How in the hell did nobody see me?!» Mimic questioned as he eyed the Mobians around him staring into the air, «that explosion was pretty and all, but I did just fall out of the bloody sky!-»
“WHERE IS HE? WHERE IS MIMIC?!” roared Whisper as she accelerated past the energy grid, her speeder rocketing towards the stands where he was standing. “Whoa, Whisper!” shouted Tangle as she tried desperately to calm down her partner.
«Ah, damn it all!» cursed Mimic as he watched the duo approach. «I can’t run or fight like this. Guess I have no choice but to keep up the act.»
As Whisper hurtled straight toward him, he pulled the most confused and terrified face he could muster, as if he had never seen this crazy wolf before in his life. He could feel his hearts pounding hard from the adrenaline of the chase. Another spike of pain from his legs caused Mimic to grip the railing a little harder to stay upright. He watched Whisper scanning the crowd with her weapon, looking for any hint of the octopus. Her face was still covered by her mask, but he could see her arms trembling with fury as her wispon shifting from one terrified face to another.
“W-we don’t know any Mimic! P-please, don’t hurt my family!” pleaded one terrified audience member, clutching her child as she stared down the barrel of a Wispon rifle. His breath hitched every time her weapon was brandished in his direction.
«I’m a sitting duck right now. And I’m still purple for Gaia’s sake! If she looks at me for more than two seconds, she’ll skewer me before you can say “Diamond Cutters”!-»
Before he could brainstorm an effective plea for his life, an explosion rocked the stands. Mimic’s legs nearly buckled from the shockwave, but he managed to cling onto the railing enough to remain standing. Looking up, Mimic wondered morbidly if Clutch had just turned the Restoration ship’s guns onto the city below.
“The course is falling apart! What do we do?!” shouted Tangle, pointing at the various obstacles that were slowly drifting towards the stands. This predicament finally seemed to snap Whisper out of her vengeful stupor, tearing her gaze away from the stands to look at where Tangle was pointing. Suddenly, everyone heard the sound of a clanging bell, and the two hovering Diamond Cutters turned their attention to the source of the noise.
“Ahem. My name is Lanolin… I’m with the Restoration’s Diamond Cutters. I know you’re all scared. You have every right to be. But you are not alone. We are here to help. Remain calm while my team and I guide the ship to a safe landing.” The sheep spoke with calm authority to the crowd, her eyes level and determined as she addressed the crowd of terrified onlookers. Mimic couldn’t believe his eyes.
«Incredible… The sheep actually pulled herself together after that… Well, I can’t say I mind right now. Just can’t help yourself when it comes to saving me, eh Lanolin?» He smirked at the irony of the situation before grimacing as another wave of pain washed over him from his legs.
Turning as smoothly as he could manage, Mimic slowly began to shuffle to the back of the stands. He occasionally glanced behind him, watching Whisper for any sign of recognition as she privately conversed with Lanolin and Tangle. Just in case, he readied his knife under his cloak as he eyed the Mobians around him. He had no plans to die quietly if Whisper saw him.
“Okay–Let’s go Diamond Cutters, we’ve got a city to save!” Lanolin finally said on her loudspeaker, with all three speeding back towards the slowly plummeting ship in the sky. Mimic released a breath he didn’t realize he had been holding, and slowly released his knife back into its strap.
“Too close… Way too close…” muttered the octopus as he watched the trio leave.
***
It took Mimic an embarrassingly long time to check into a motel. Most places near the stadium were fully booked by excited fans who had traveled to Central City to see the Sweepstakes in person. This also meant that traffic was so impossibly backed up that it took a full hour before the cab he called arrived at the stadium.
Then he had to travel halfway across the city in that heavy traffic to find an open room, limp his way to the front desk to collect the key to his room, and finally all the way to his room on the second floor. He didn’t have any broken bones as far as he could tell, but it would take a day or two before he could perform any future acrobatics. After three hours of painful travel, he finally closed the door to his apartment in relief. His shoddy canine disguise fell away into his normal appearance as he shuffled over to the bed.
“Gaia, things really went tits up, didn’t they?” The octopus sighed heavily, collapsing face first onto the bed. He laid there for a few seconds, wondering what deity he pissed off to deserve this. “All of them, probably,” he finally mumbled, as he rolled over to grab a TV remote from the bed stand.
“May as well see what happened with that ship. Maybe I’ll get lucky, and Whisper ended up combusting in a giant explosion,” he wished forlornly.
It didn’t take long for him to swap to a news channel covering the Sweepstakes events. A feline reporter was standing in front of what looked to be the smoldering ruins of Restoration HQ, emergency vehicles parked all around the wreckage.
“This is Kate from Central Media, reporting live from the crash site of the downed Restoration shuttle at Restoration HQ. Emergency services are still present here—they seem to have put out the fire, but medical staff are still combing through the wreckage for anyone needing medical attention,” said the reporter as she looked back at the wreckage before facing the camera again. “Many key Restoration officials were present within the ship prior to the alleged triggering of the ship’s self-destruct sequence. We are still waiting for official reports on what exactly happened aboard the ship, as well as the casualty estimates for the crash.”
Mimic’s gloomy mood vanished, and he sneered in malicious delight. “Finally, some payback! Now if only I had brought some booze with me, I’d be drinking like a king right now.” Unfortunately, he had left his personal stash behind at Restoration HQ, but it was a small price to pay in his eyes.
Suddenly, the camera panned toward the sound of buzzing wings, showing a frazzled-looking beetle wearing a pink dress with matching heels. Her once shiny rainbow shell was a bit covered in soot, and her hands were nervously fidgeting as she flew towards the reporter with a nervous look on her face. “Oh, and it looks like Director Jewel will be joining us!” reported Kate with a warm smile as she turned towards the beetle, “Director, can you tell us anything about what happened at this crash site?” Kate extended her microphone towards the beetle in anticipation. Mimic keenly watched the director as she accepted the microphone.
After a small second of hesitation, Jewel looked at the feline reporter with a small smile. “H-hello Kate. I know you guys want an explanation about what happened here… I do have some good news though! We were able to rescue everyone from Restoration HQ before the ship crashed into the building. S-so even though the building might be a bit… wrecked, the Restoration is still alive and well!”
“Well that’s wonderful news! I’m sure Central City will rest easy knowing that everyone is safe. You must be very relieved that you were able to save everyone!” said Kate as she smiled with relief. Mimic groaned in disappointment, flopping backwards onto his bed and staring at the ceiling in simmering hatred.
«So much for payback…» Mimic thought as he silently brooded, «all these irritating brats that I had to interact with for months, and not a single dead body? The indignity of it all!»
Jewel chuckled nervously, uncomfortable with the sudden praise. “Oh, I didn’t do much of anything, really! I-It was all Sonic and his friends, and the Babylon Rogues and the Diamond Cutters who really deserve the credit. I-I just steered the ship...” she faltered slightly as she looked back at the ruins of Restoration HQ.
“Well, you’re nothing if not humble, director!” chuckled the reporter, and Jewel looked back with a soft smile, fidgeting a bit with the edge of her dress. “Now, as I understand it, there was an incident aboard the Restoration shuttle between you and Clean Sweep’s CEO… could you clarify what happened?”
Mimic sat up again, ignoring the persistent ache in his legs as he watched Jewel’s eyes narrow slightly, her lips pursed as she considered the question. “Yes… Clutch the Opossum attempted to seize control of the vessel after his organization’s criminal history was exposed on air. In the following scuffle, he attempted to flee the vessel, but was stopped by Sonic and his allies. His whereabouts are… unknown at the moment, but I will announce when I have more information to give about his present location.“
Mimic raised an eyebrow as he watched Jewel fidget on screen. Her answer had been well-spoken, diplomatic, and tactful–Mimic didn’t trust it.
”There has to be more to the story here,” he mused as he stroked his chin in thought, “I don’t buy that they just lost Clutch. I mean, how do you even lose someone in the sky? It doesn’t make any sense-”
”We also know that there was a traitor among the Diamond Cutters working with Clutch to sabotage the event: a shapeshifting octopus by the name of Mimic.”
Immediately, Mimic’s attention snapped to the screen in horror. He couldn’t believe his eyes: a clear picture of him was held between Jewel’s fingers. There he was, undisguised on the race track, being pursued by Tangle and Whisper. Jewel’s gaze hardened as she turned from Kate to the camera, “He is a dangerous killer, who was hired to infiltrate our organization in order to sow chaos within the Restoration. He was able to escape capture, but he is believed to still be within the city. Anyone who has any information on his whereabouts should report it immediately to the Restoration HQ emergency hotline, which will be restored to full functionality within a few hours. We will do all in our power to bring him to just-.”
Mimic tossed the remote as hard as he could at the TV. The screen cracked as the remote lodged itself into the screen, scattering pieces of glass all over the wooden floor. He barely resisted the urge to scream at the top of his lungs, lest anyone hear him.
Enraged, he took his combat knife out and lunged for the nearest pillow. With every stab, he imagined that he was plunging his knife into the head of a certain rainbow beetle, rather than a cloth sack stuffed with feathers. After going through every pillow on the bed, his fury finally abated enough for him to realize what he had just done.
“Damnit, there’s no way I can hide this all… I guess I’ll have to leave first thing in the morning, before the room staff come by for cleaning…”
Mimic slumped as he considered his options. His alias at the Restoration was burned, and they would be on high alert. Whisper herself was probably already putting together a search party to hunt him down, so he had to move quickly. But it was even worse than that, because he had just been exposed on national television. News stations from across the globe were covering this event. He’d be recognized halfway around the world if he ever dropped his disguise.
And to make matters even worse, Clutch had gone completely AWOL. Mimic wasn’t even sure if Clutch was still alive, much less able to protect him. Whisper was a problem he could handle, but the entire Restoration? GUN? Robotnik? Not a chance.
The octopus considered making a run for it: taking the first train out of Central City in the morning and then hightailing it to some remote neck of the woods for a few weeks. He liked the peace and quiet of the wilderness, and it would give him a way to take out his anger in a… less noticeable manner.
«There’s also nobody around in the woods, now is there? I can just be myself, no need to worry about who's watching… Too bad the rest of the world has so many people in it. People who pounce the moment they smell weakness, or worse, who draw you in with false promises and fake smiles until they know where to hurt you the worst… Like pretending that you could all be a family-»
Mimic shook his head, shutting down that pernicious thought. He was not about to go there right now.
«On second thought, maybe I should try and check in with Clean Sweep. After all, I still haven’t been fully paid for my services. If Clutch is still around, I’m sure he’ll be amenable to helping to cover for me in exchange for a favor… and if he isn’t, I’m sure I can salvage something valuable from his personal belongings.»
He sighed, his mind made up. Tomorrow, he’d head over to the nearest Clean Sweep office to see if the old possum had made it out in one piece. If not, he’d enrich himself with whatever he could scrounge up there, and then he’d find some hole to hide out at until things blew over.
«Man… I could use a drink right about now.»
Notes:
Shout out to S3ruma, the author of Metal Body, for not only inspiring me to create this fic but also for helping me beta read the first chapter! If you haven't already read Metal Body, you should go do that. Like now. It's an incredible fic. Shoo, away with you!... But remember to come back eventually.
Chapter 2: Deal with the Devil
Notes:
Thanks for the support from the first chapter! Excited to get this fic on the road!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
The first thing that Clutch the Opossum heard as he stirred awake was the faint hum of electricity. He groggily attempted to sit up, but found that he was strapped to some kind of table, his arms and feet secured against the cold metal. Looking around as best as he could, he noticed that he was located in a small concrete room. The drab walls were bare of any windows or decorations, the only light coming from a bulb on the ceiling. He spotted a single door at the other end of the room, which looked to be made of solid steel. To his dismay, Clutch spotted a very familiar insignia on the door itself, the smiling visage of the doctor outlined in dull red.
«Well, this is certainly an interesting predicament…»
He twisted against his restraints to try and find the source of that electrical hum, which seemed to be buzzing just below him under the table. The straps that held him down were firm, but he was able to tilt his head enough to make out some sort of electric generator underneath him.
«Restrained on a metal table, with electricity running underneath? Don't need to be a genius to know I should tread lightly…»
Clutch looked in the corner of the room and noticed a camera on his left side pointing directly at him. He spotted a faint red light underneath the camera’s visor, indicating the camera was in use. He smiled at the camera, and then rested his head back on the table as he tried to think of a plan.
«I‘m still in my suit, which means I haven’t been stripped. I likely haven’t been here long, and with Eggman, I probably won’t be here much longer,» he reasoned as he glanced down at his wrinkled white suit.
«I’d say my current situation calls for a… conciliatory bargain with the doctor, or else I risk a painful execution. Now… how to make sure that my attempts at the former don't cause the latter?»
As he mulled over this question, Clutch’s mind couldn’t help but wander to the disaster that had unfolded at the Sweepstakes. He had been cocky, so sure that everyone under his thumb would do their damn job when he had asked them to. And yet, here he was, outwitted and betrayed.
«Ugh, that infernal tenrec… this is the last time I hire a loose cannon like her!» he thought disdainfully, «damn bastard couldn’t help getting sentimental, and now look where it’s gotten me! And it’s not like my security team or Mimic did any better, fleeing at the first sign of trouble. What a bunch of amateurs-»
His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of an opening door. Clutch opened his eyes and stared at the infamous visage of Doctor Eggman standing in the doorway. The doctor wore a cruel smile on his face, his hands clasped behind his back as he approached his new prisoner.
“Oh ho ho! Rise and shine, rodent! How are you enjoying the accommodations?” he said with a sneer. The door closed automatically behind him, hydraulics hissing as the door sealed shut.
“Very familiar, I’m afraid,” replied Clutch, adopting a wry smile as he watched his captor pace around the table. “Although usually, I’m the one asking.”
“Ahh, how the tables have turned, then.” The doctor circled the table, every step clanking on the metallic floor.“You know, I’ve been planning this little meeting for a while now.”
Clutch shifted a bit as the doctor approached him. “Really now? I never knew you were such a…fan of my work.”
The doctor stopped, his smile vanishing and being replaced with a menacing glare. He leaned over the table, looming over Clutch as his goggles seemed to gleam with malice. “You have mocked me for the last time, rodent. Did you really think I wouldn’t notice your little ads making fun of me?!” He straightened his posture as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a device with a big red button on it.
Clutch’s eyes widened as he watched the doctor point the device at the table. “A-Ah, well my company always panders to our target audience, Doctor. My business deals with all kinds of people, not just the Restor-”
Suddenly, Eggman pushed the button, and within the blink of an eye the whole table became electrified. Clutch convulsed in pain and screamed, his body completely locked together as electricity coursed through his body. Eggman chuckled as he watched the sight of the electrocuted possum, his good humor regained. After a few agonizing seconds, Eggman released his thumb off of the button, and the sharp buzzing of electricity quieted to a gentle hum.
Eggman grinned wickedly as Clutch gasped in relief, ”Hah! Really, you should consider your position here carefully,” joked the mad doctor as he admired his handiwork, “you never know what shocking developments might occur!”
Eggman pressed the button again, and Clutch once again felt hundreds of thousands of volts channeled into the table below him. After a few more seconds of screaming, the doctor slowly took his thumb off the remote. He seemed pleased at Clutch’s ragged breathing, wisps of smoke curling over the crime boss’s once pristine suit. Humming with pleasure, he slowly lowered his thumb once again.
“W-Wait!” shouted Clutch before Eggman could shock him again, “Doctor, I’m sure we can come to a mutual agreement that would be beneficial to both of us!”
Eggman’s thumb halted just above the remote, his face tinged with bemused curiosity. He lifted his arm so that the remote pointed directly at Clutch, his thumb hovering over the trigger. The doctor let the crime boss sweat for a few seconds, and then lowered the remote to the ground. “And what exactly did you have in mind, rodent?”
Clutch took a deep breath to calm his nerves. “First, my organization could be very valuable to the Eggman Empire. Clean Sweep makes a great deal of money through salvaging the broken robots and derelict bases that you leave rusting all over Mobius.
All that activity invites a whole range of business partners from all over the economy. I’ve got contracts worth billions of rings with tech firms, manufacturing plants, private security groups, mining companies, and even some real estate agents, all looking to make use of these scraps we collect.”
Eggman scoffed, “I’m one of the richest men on the planet, rodent. Don’t think you can bribe your way out of this!”
The possum recoiled slightly, as if he were gravely offended by this insinuation. “Of course not, doctor! My point is, Clean Sweep offers you more than just money. It gets you influence, a foot in the door within the biggest sectors of the economy. And if Clean Sweep were to partner with the Eggman Empire, you could wield a great deal of power within Mobian society itself.”
Clutch smiled as he watched Eggman’s brow furrow in thought. The doctor tapped a finger on his chin for a few seconds as he considered the offer. “And what reason do I have not to barbeque you now and take over your facilities for myself, hmm?” countered the doctor, arching an eyebrow at the crime boss.
Clutch sighed and spread his palms as much as he could, as if he were inviting a business partner to lunch rather than courting a mad dictator on the verge of executing him. He was in his element now, negotiating a deal with the most dangerous man on the planet. The opossum glanced at his human captor with a calm smile, eyes twinkling with confidence.
“Doctor, for all of your brilliant inventions, you lack one crucial element: loyalty. You are a complete pariah in Mobian society, and even criminals don’t want to deal with someone as unpredictable as yourself if they can help it.” Eggman scowled at that remark, but stayed silent. “Your machines might overthrow nations, but my words can mobilize them.”
Clutch looked intently at the doctor, carefully gauging the man’s attitude before continuing with his speech. “I have a third of all the organized crime in Mobius available at my beck and call. You kill me, they become chaff in the wind. But if you allowed me to work with–no, for you, the Eggman Empire would surge with new recruits, and the vast resources and connections of the criminal underworld would be at your fingertips.”
Clutch watched the doctor as he stroked his mustache and hummed in thought. Clutch allowed himself to relax a bit, resting his hands back down on the cold metal of the interrogation table.
After a few tense seconds of silence, Eggman finally looked back down at the possum. “You make a good argument, rodent. And I’ve been meaning to explore… alternative avenues of expansion for my empire for some time now,” admitted the doctor, before his expression shifted to a cruel smile. “However, you understand that I cannot simply let you wander about unchecked, yes? I have a reputation to maintain, after all!”
Clutch’s eyes widened in surprise. “What exactly did you have in mind, doctor? If it’s a matter of trust, I’m sure we can come to some kind of agreement,” he said hesitantly.
Eggman chuckled as he brought up his sleeve. “You see, Clutch, I don’t know if I can trust you, scheming little rodent that you are,” said Eggman as he pushed a few buttons on his cufflink, causing a projection to appear. Clutch saw what appeared to be a robotic tick implanted on top of a generic Mobian’s head. “This model should be sufficient to quell any chance for…rebellious thinking,” said Eggman as he maliciously smiled at the opossum.
Clutch swallowed hard as he looked over the robot’s curious design, noting the sharp spikes on its underside currently implanted into the Mobian’s head. «Clearly, he’s not letting go of his anger at me so easily,» thought Clutch, biting his upper lip as he considered his options.
Suddenly, he perked up as an idea went off in his head. «But maybe I can redirect his vengeance to another target…»
“While it’s certainly an interesting idea, I think it would compromise my effectiveness if I were… bugged in such a manner,” Clutch smiled at his own pun, and Eggman huffed in slight amusement. “I have a proposal that I’m sure you’ll find more agreeable. I have something that I know you want.”
Eggman leaned in, his massive yet lanky frame hovering over the opossum. “Yeeeeees?” drawled the doctor with an amused grin, “and what exactly can you give me that I don’t already have?”
Clutch flashed his golden tooth at the doctor as he grinned, “Revenge.”
***
Mimic stood in the center of a foggy city crosswalk, the war torn streets littered with debris. He could just make out the sun setting over the ruins of the city skyline. Around him were dozens of corpses. Most were twisted hunks of metal, badniks blasted apart by Wispons and left to rust. A few were Mobians, some with limbs ripped cleanly off and others struck with blaster bolts. Their milky eyes stared into nothing, their fur caked in their own blood.
The octopus walks forward, seeing ahead of him a group of half-a-dozen Mobians. They were faceless, their features shrouded as they slowly prowled toward him. He does not know their names, but he recognizes their uniforms as Resistance members. One Mobian raises their hand to hail him, only for a burst of laser fire to cut them down from behind. An eerie scream pierces the air as the Mobian crumples on the ground. The remainder of the group scatters, taking cover amid the street’s debris as they turn their attention to the badnik patrol turning the corner behind them. Mimic just stands and watches.
The Mobians yell a battle cry as they fire back at the badniks ahead of them, cutting down a handful of Egg Pawns and an Egg Fighter before the bots spread out for cover. The two groups exchange fire, Wispon shots and laser bolts flung across the street. One Resistance fighter stands up to fire at an advancing Egg Knight, only to be struck in the head by a bolt. Their Wispon clatters to the ground, and the Wisp flies out and wails in grief at the sight of their stricken owner.
Mimic then noticed a faint noise, a slow stomping sound accompanied by the mechanical hissing of hydraulics. He looked around, trying to identify the source of the sound as the stomping grew louder and louder. Suddenly, it stopped, and Mimic’s eyes widened as he heard the sound of a laser charging up. He took one last look at the group of Mobians, who were still embroiled in battle, and dove to the ground.
A giant red laser beam from a Death Egg Robot suddenly blasted through the ruins of a building across the street from him, aimed directly onto the Resistance position. Mimic watched in horror as the laser vaporized two Mobians instantly, while the remaining two fighters were flung back by the blast. Their bodies hit the asphalt and rolled, limbs flapping lifelessly until they slow to a stop. A burnt husk of a Resistance uniform lands a few feet next to him, the torso of the Mobian who wore it still inside.
Nothing makes a sound, save for the crackling of flames and the ringing in Mimic’s ears. Ash kicked up by the blast floats down around him, and Mimic sees no movement in the street. He shakes off the layer of dust settling on his face as he slowly picks himself up off the ground-
Suddenly, a metallic hand grabs his exposed neck. Mimic gags for air as an Egg Fighter lifts him off the ground. He tries to pry himself free from the robot, grabbing his knife and desperately stabbing at any exposed joints on the arm, but to no avail. The robot’s eyes bore into him as he struggles, and then… a voice emits from its voice box.
And instead of unintelligible robotic gibberish, or perhaps the mad gloating of Robotnik, Mimic hears the voice of Whisper, cold and vengeful.
“For all the people you’ve killed, you deserve no mercy, Mimic.”
The badnik squeezed, and he heard his neck snap-
Mimic awoke with a start, sweat dripping from his brow as he sat up from his bed. His hearts were beating furiously from the adrenaline, and he had to take a few seconds to calm his labored breathing. He used his blanket to wipe his brow before lying back down and staring at the ceiling.
“Screw you, Whisper,” he grumbled, rubbing the side of his neck, “and screw these nightmares too…”
He turned his head and blinked his eyes a few times as he looked at his alarm. “…5:26 AM? Yeah, that’s probably fine. Who needs sleep anyway?” he chuckled as he sleepily stumbled toward the bathroom. He could feel a dull ache in his legs as the adrenaline faded, but he was able to walk well enough now.
Turning on the spout, the octopus splashed his face with water a few times, partially to rehydrate himself and partially to try and wash away the memories of the nightmare he just had. Eventually, he settled for partial success and dried his face off with a towel, idly wondering why ghosts of his past kept coming back to haunt his dreams.
«It really starts to get old, after a while. There’s only so many ways someone can get mutilated by robots before they become numb to it, right?» Mimic thought to himself as he finished using the restroom.
As he walked across the room towards the door, he passed by the aftermath of the mess he created after last night’s temper tantrum. The remote was still firmly planted inside the cracked TV screen, and a pile of disemboweled pillows were located in the corner next to the bathroom. Mimic shook his head as he walked, silently scolding himself for losing his temper.
«Pull yourself together, you’re supposed to be a professional.»
He then began to transform, his purple skin becoming covered with orange feathers while his tentacles shimmered together into the fleshy waddles of a middle-aged rooster. His scarf transformed into a common work cap on his head, while his black combat boots changed into a softer brown.
As the ‘rooster’ exited the motel, he felt the cool morning wind ruffle through his new feathers. The sky was still mostly dark, but on the horizon a few rays of sunlight were beginning to crest into view. The streets were mostly empty, only a few cars on the road so early in the morning. Nobody noticed him standing there, slightly shivering from the persistent breeze.
And just for a second, Mimic closed his eyes and sighed, absently rubbing the side of his neck. «…Today is a new day. I will not be bested by Whisper and those false Diamond Cutters. I’ll be back for her someday…»
«… and when I do, I’ll turn her into a martyr. Even if I have to burn this whole damn city to do it.»
Notes:
I've got quite a few headcanons about how Sonic's world actually... works? Economically, politically, geographically... we get basically nothing from the games, so I'm making it up as we go along. All you need to know right now is that rings are basically just the Mobian version of dollars.
Anyway, this chapter was quick to upload since I had it mostly finished beforehand, but it might take a bit more time before Chapter 3 is ready. Hopefully, I can get to that before Finals Week crushes my soul! (You usually need one of those to write fanfiction)
Chapter 3: On the Hunt
Notes:
Whoof, finally got this one done! Just in time for finals too, so enjoy the ride.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
The morning glow of the sun’s rays filtered through the large windows of the conference room. Whisper sat at the polished wooden table in the center of the room, eyeing the only entrance like a hawk. Her keen ears caught the faint din of morning traffic echoing from the street below. The air smelled of freshly printed paper and ink.
Following the aftermath of the Restoration’s flagship demolishing their base of operations, Jewel had quickly set up a temporary lease arrangement with a nearby consulting firm. The Restoration had temporarily commandeered their entire office building in order to host their activities, at least until the living quarters and storage facilities at Restoration HQ were rebuilt.
Whisper tensed as she heard brisk footsteps approach, her hand drifting towards her Wispon lying on her lap. «It’s just Tangle or Silver walking down the hall for our meeting,» she told herself.
Yet as those footsteps grew louder, her breathing became a little shallower, and her heart started to pump a little harder. Old fears she had buried long ago rose from their graves with a vengeance.
«What if it’s him?» The thought caused her to grasp her Wispon, ready to fire at a moment's notice. «Mimic could be anywhere; he could be that security guard at the front entrance, or any of the Restoration employees working on this floor, or he could have ambushed Tangle and-»
Before Whisper could slip too far into her own paranoia, the door creaked open, revealing the familiar face of Tangle the Lemur.
“Hey, Whisper!” exclaimed Tangle as she waved at the silent wolf.
Whisper locked eyes with Tangle for a second, then relaxed as she noted her magenta eyes. The pounding in her chest receded as she greeted Tangle with a nod, a slight smile forming on her face. Tangle gasped as she leaped to the window, smushing her face to the glass as she admired the city below her. “Oooh, this is such a good view! I could get used to this.”
Whisper chuckled as she watched Tangle gawk at the skyline in amazement. “You know, I think we can go on the roof later, if you want a better view,” she suggested softly.
Tangle whipped her head toward Whisper with wide eyes and a giddy expression.
“Can we?! Oh, that’d be great!” she exclaimed excitedly, “You know, Tails was teaching me how to make paper airplanes recently, and I think we should totally go on the roof later and throw some off the building to see how far they can go.”
She grabbed a piece of paper from a nearby printer and began to fold it rapidly. A few seconds later, she exclaimed, “Ta-da!” as she presented her newly-folded creation.
Whisper giggled as Tangle tossed the airplane across the room, sailing over her head before crumpling as it hit the wall on the other side.
“Seems like fun. You’ll have to teach me how to make them, since you’re so talented,” said Whisper warmly, watching as Tangle blushed slightly at the compliment.
“Hehe, yeah… Oh, right!” exclaimed Tangle, “Silver is coming too, he’s just a little behind because he wanted to speak with Lanolin before we headed out.”
Whisper nodded in acknowledgement. Lanolin had taken a step back from leadership after the whole debacle with Duo, temporarily disbanding the Diamond Cutters so that she could focus on the reconstruction efforts at Restoration HQ. Whisper remembers how the sheep had privately confided with her just after the disbandment, wishing the former mercenary luck in her hunt to take down Mimic.
“Take him down a peg for me, will you? You’re been much better at handling him than I’ll ever be, and I trust you to get the job done.”
“I’ll make sure he never hurts anyone again. You have my word.”
The sound of polite knocking interrupted Whisper’s flashback. “I’ll get it!” shouted Tangle as she quickly bounded towards the door.
“Wait!” commanded Whisper, and Tangle froze right before she turned the door knob.
“Right! Sorry…” apologized Tangle as she sheepishly rubbed the back of her head.
“Better to be safe than sorry,” reminded Whisper, watching as Tangle backed a few feet away from the door before saying, “Come in!”
The door opened, and Silver the Hedgehog stepped into the room, his left hand outstretched upward as he levitated a cardboard box above him. “Hey guys,” he greeted with a cheerful smile, “is it alright if I leave this on the table?”
“Sure,” said Whisper with a nod, and Silver moved his hand forward. The box drifted overhead and then dropped unceremoniously right on the table with a loud noise.
Silver cringed at his clumsiness. “Sorry…” he apologized, rubbing his quills in his embarrassment. Whisper regarded him with an amused look. “What’s in the box?” Tangle asked curiously as she peered inside.
“Oh! Well, I really wanted to help you guys with catching Mimic, so I asked Lanolin if she could get some news footage of the stadium,” he explained as he pulled a video projector out of the box. He placed it right at the front of the conference table, facing a bare wall with a projector screen attached to the ceiling. “Tails was able to stitch together a bunch of news feeds into a single video. I thought it'd be good to watch over that footage together, so that we can learn how he escaped, and maybe even get a clue on where he's heading!”
”Ooh, like detectives!” exclaimed Tangle as she clapped in excitement. “Well, let’s get set up then! You have the footage, right?”
Silver pulled a USB stick out of his quills and held it up. “Unfortunately, Tails didn’t have much time to edit it. He had to leave with Blaze and Amy to see if the Restoration towns outside of Central City were still functioning,” he admitted, mouth twisted in disappointment, “so we’ll have to watch through the film ourselves to find what we're looking for.”
Whisper hummed in thought. “We should compare the stadium audience before and after the chase. Look for any duplicates or new faces compared to who was in the crowd beforehand,” she suggested.
“Alright, sounds like a plan!” said Tangle, with Silver nodding in agreement. The hedgehog began looking around for an electric socket he could use, while Tangle used her tail to bring the projector screen down.
Suddenly, there was a shout from outside the room, causing everyone to freeze. Whisper unslung her Wispon and cautiously approached the door, putting her ear to one of the wooden panels to hear what was going on.
“I’m sorry, but you don’t have the proper clear-“
“Screw that, bozo! I just saved all your stinking lives yesterday! The least you could do is be grateful about it! Outta my way!”
Suddenly, Whisper heard a sharp crack of electricity, and at the door was a sudden knock. She narrowed her eyes as she slowly turned the door knob, her Wispon pointed directly ahead as she cautiously opened the door. Standing in the hallway was Surge the Tenrec, her shark-like teeth bared into a sharp grin as she leaned casually on a wall.
“Hey Squinty, how’s it hanging?” she said glibly, unfazed by the Wispon pointed directly at her chest.
“What are you doing here, Surge?” asked Whisper tersely, not lowering her gun.
Surge shrugged, her hands clasping behind her head as she leered at the former mercenary. “What, can’t a gal check in on her teammates every once in a while? We’re all on the same side, y’know!” Surge’s grin widened, “Well, aside from Duo, of course.”
Whisper’s finger twitched at the tenrec’s jab, but before she could test the speedster’s reflexes with a Wispon bolt to the head, Tangle spoke up from behind her. “We were about to start looking through some news footage of the Sweepstakes to see if we can find how Mimic got away—we’d be happy if you wanted to pitch in and help!” offered Tangle cheerily.
“We?” Whisper questioned, looking back incredulously at the lemur. Tangle teasingly stuck her tongue out in response. “Yes, Whisper, we would be happy for the extra help,” she reaffirmed, looking back at Surge with a sunny smile, “so, want to be a team player?”
Surge put her fist under her chin, mockingly pondering the question. “Gee, what an offer,” she said sarcastically, “sit around in this stuffy office and stare at a screen all day playing ‘Where’s Waldo?’ with a shapeshifter. Where’d you come up with that brilliant idea, Twinkletoes?”
Behind the tenrec, a blue tendril of water slowly snaked up and tapped her on the shoulder. Surge turned to look back at the shy fennec behind her. “Whaddaya want, Drippy?” she asked, unimpressed.
The fennec raised himself up by his tendrils, leaning into Surge’s ear and murmuring something that Whisper couldn’t make out.
“...Ugh, fine!” whined the tenrec, “we’ll join your stupid watch party. You're welcome.”
Whisper glanced down at Kit as the fennec glided back to the floor, water tendrils retreating into his backpack. Her eyes darted back and forth between the two hooligans with suspicion.
«They're hiding something,» she decided, slinging her Wispon back around her shoulder, «but it would be better to keep a close eye on them until I know what their true aims are.»
“... Fine, welcome to the team.”
***
Mimic’s eyes widened in horror as he turned the corner and saw a crowd of people gathered in front of Clean Sweep’s offices. Hundreds of angry Mobians were picketing right at the entrance, holding signs and megaphones as they protested.
“We know you’re all lying cheats! Kick out Clean Sweep from our streets!” chanted the crowd. A few security guards at the front entrance stood nervously in front of the crowd, occasionally waving their batons in a futile attempt to shoo away the crowd.
«Chaos… and here I was worrying about being unpopular,» he mused incredulously as he began walking towards the commotion. «It’s not even 8 in the morning yet! Does no one have anything better to do?!»
Looking around, Mimic spotted at least three media vans parked nearby, camera crews setting up while reporters prepared their scripts. He grimaced, and quickened his pace towards the entrance.
«Better get inside before more people show up,» he decided, tugging on his disguise’s work cap as he pushed past the crowd.
Occasionally, he would catch a dirty look from a protestor as he walked forward, but thankfully nobody was dumb enough to try and block his path. Mimic did not want to have to deal with the consequences of knocking out a Mobian in broad daylight.
Just as Mimic reached the entrance, one of the guards blocked his path with their baton. “S-sir, I’m going to need to see some identification to c-confirm that you’re an employee,” the guard stammered.
The faux rooster rolled his eyes with a huff, and made a show of patting himself down before producing a well-worn employee ID.
The guard glanced at the card for a second, then nodded. “A-Alright sir, you’re good to go,” he said as he retracted his hand. The rooster nodded, pushing the glass doors open as he walked past the checkpoint.
After a few paces, the illusion around his ID shimmered, and the card melted back into his feathered hand.
«Good thing they didn’t bring a scanner,» Mimic smirked to himself as he sauntered his way through the foyer. It was an opulent hall, marbled walls illuminated by the warm light of a hanging chandelier on the ceiling. The path to the front desk was covered by a soft velvet carpet, and cushy seats lined the edges of the room.
“Hello sir, can I help you?” asked the tired-looking rabbit sitting at the desk as Mimic approached.
“Hey darlin’,” he winked, placing a feathered arm on the table and leaning towards the receptionist, “I gotta talk to the boss about makin’ sure he keeps payin’ me after that whole mess last night,” he said in a slight country accent.
She gave the rooster an unimpressed look as she picked up the phone. “Name?” she asked as she began dialing.
“Russo the Rooster,” Mimic said with a self-satisfied smirk. She finished dialing and put the phone to her ear.
“Hello?” asked the receptionist after a short pause. “Is Clutch available at the moment?… Ah… Well there’s a ‘Russo the Rooster’ here to see him… mhm…he’s here about a missing pay claim… mhm…”
The receptionist lowered the phone and looked towards him. “What’s your ID number, sir?”
Mimic balked slightly at the question as his brain scrambled to come up with a response. «If only Clutch had given me a damned ID that I could use! I guess he didn’t want anyone finding out he had infamous criminals on his payroll.»
“Is that the boss on the line?” he asked, trying to stall for time. The receptionist raised an eyebrow. “No, he isn’t in the office right now. But I’m recording your request so that his secretary can give it to him when he returns. What’s your ID number?”
Mimic pondered for a second, drumming his fingers on the table. «Not at work, huh? Could be dead at this point… ah, what the hell. May as well leave a message.»
“That’s alright,” he finally said, dropping his accent, “just tell him that the foreman of his ‘Demolition Department’ was here to collect his payment, and that I’m always looking for another job.”
The rabbit wrinkled her brow at him in confusion. “Sir, I still need an ID? And I don’t believe that we have a demolition department…“
“He’ll know who I am and what I mean.” Mimic leaned in over the table, eyes boring into the rabbit with a murderous glare. “You don’t need an ID from me, you got that?” She shrunk a little, nodding nervously.
“Good. He’ll know how to call me,” Mimic said, straightening his posture as if he were stretching.
He turned to walk out the door, but looked back at the receptionist one last time, a knowing smirk plastered on his face. “Oh, and… if anyone other than the boss asks, I was never here. Capiche?”
Notes:
Finally, the good guys have arrived! Plus Surge and Kit. Who invited these two punks again? Ah, I'm sure they mean well.
Also, has anyone thought about what the rules for Mimic's shapeshifting actually are? If the IDW writers know, they sure haven't told us! How big can he get? How small? Does he have to be a living object, or can he just blend into the environment by becoming a trash can or a bush or whatever? What are the properties of his transformations? When he turns into a robot, is he actually metal, or does he just get very shiny?
And I know the writers thought about it, because Kit comments on whether Mimic can fly if he transforms into something with wings. But they DON'T ANSWER THAT! How dare they tease me over this? Truly unforgivable. But at least it gives me the license to come up with whatever creative shifts I want for him. Suck it IDW!
Chapter 4: Tightening the Noose
Notes:
Sorry for the wait! Finals are over with, so enjoy the chapter!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
The office room was now dim, windows covered with blinds as the video projector buzzed to life. At the front of the room, a bird’s eye view of the Sweepstakes Colosseum appeared on the lowered projector screen. The aerial camera was zoomed in at the starting line, racers revving their extreme gear in preparation for the race to start.
“Hello to all you Ex-Gear fans out there, and welcome to the final event of the Clean Sweepstakes!” announced Nite the Owl through the stadium’s loudspeakers, “I hope you’re excited, because we’ve saved the best for last!” Cheers erupted from the stands, the sound slightly distorted through the old speaker of the projector.
“But before we get started, I’ve been asked to share some words from Clean Sweep Inc.’s CEO…” Whisper heard a low growl from the other side of the table, and glanced toward the irate tenrec.
“Can we skip past this part? I’m sick of listening to that sleaze-bag,” complained Surge, kicking her boots onto the table with a loud thunk.
Tangle furrowed her brow, turning toward the tenrec with a quizzical expression. “I mean, I’ve always thought that Nite was a really nice guy-”
“Not the owl, dumbass!” Surge shot back with an annoyed look on her face, “I meant Clutch! He's not the slimy bastard we're looking for, so skip this talking crap and get to the action!”
“Uh… hold on,” Silver fidgeted a bit with the remote, pointing it at the screen as he clicked the fast-forward button. After a few attempts, the footage began to speed up, fast-forwarding through yesterday's events. Whisper hummed in contemplation as she watched the Phantom Rider be revealed to be Sonic in front of the whole stadium, only for Nite to begin airing out Clutch’s dirty laundry on air.
As chaos erupted aboard the Restoration Ship, Whisper spotted herself racing towards the doomed vessel alongside Lanolin and Tangle. But as the camera panned to a wider shot of the arena, her eyes widened in recognition. «Wait a second… what are they doing together?»
“Pause it,” she commanded Silver. After a few seconds, the sped-up footage froze, drawing confused glances from the rest of the group. Whisper pointed to three figures still on the track: the fuzzy images of Kit and Surge, speaking with an anxious-looking Duo.
She turned towards Surge with a menacing glare, her right hand falling underneath the table to grasp her Wispon. “You better have a good explanation for this, Surge. Why were you speaking alone with him?”
Surge smirked, unfazed by the former mercenary’s candor. “What? I thought you wanted me to be a team player!” she waved dismissively. “Eh, I had bigger fish to fry.”
Whisper inched closer to the tenrec, her eyes staring daggers into the cocky speedster. “So you decided to let this murderer go loose? What would have happened if he had attacked us?! He could have hurt Tangle or-“
“Would you have believed us?” asked Kit softly, his sullen magenta eyes staring unnervingly at her as he moved to Surge’s side. “You were already tricked by him once before, and you don’t trust us. We had no way to know how you would take the news.”
Whisper gnashed her teeth in frustration. “That doesn’t mean you can just leave us high and dry,” she growled, “how can you expect us to trust you if you don’t have our backs?”
Surge zipped to her side, perching her elbow on the wolf’s shoulder. “Well, how about this: we help you capture that little squid, and you forgive us for letting him go. How does that sound?” she asked, her grin widening into a toothy smile.
Whisper shoved Surge off her shoulder, then grabbed her jacket with both fists clenched. “If I find out that you two ever betray us again, I will toss you both into the deepest, darkest, nastiest prison cell I can find,” she whispered, her face mere inches away from the tenrec. “Do you understand me?”
Whisper watched as Surge’s cocky attitude melted in the face of the wolf’s threat, a few beads of sweat forming on her forehead. “Y-yeah, fine… Now get off of me!” Surge stuttered, shoving Whisper away from her.
As she watched Surge slink back to her seat, Whisper felt a hand gently placed on her shoulder. “Hey, Whisper, you alright?” asked Tangle, a concerned look on her face.
“I’ll be fine,” said Whisper, glaring at the speedster as she sat next to Kit, her arms crossed and a frown etched on her face.
“Uh… so should we keep going or…” Silver asked hesitantly, to which Whisper nodded.
Soon, Mimic’s deception was revealed to the Diamond Cutters, and Silver slowed the speed back to normal so that everyone could watch the chase unfold. Whisper stood from her chair and walked to the projector, face inscrutable as she watched herself chase down the traitor.
Surge huffed in amusement as the on-screen Tangle yipped in panic, swerving as she barely dodged a blaster shot. “Nice reflexes, Twinkletoes,” she snarked.
Tangle pouted, cheeks puffed up in indignation. “Well, not everyone has super speed like you do, Sparky,” she shot back.
Suddenly, an explosion rocked the camera, putting it out of focus as it tried to capture the fiery remains of Mimic’s combusting Extreme-Gear. Surge whistled at the sight, prompting a glare from Whisper.
“Play it at half speed,” commanded Whisper as she turned back to the projector, “see if the camera caught where he fell.”
“Which button is… oh, there we go!” exclaimed Silver, as the expanding cloud of smoke slowed with a click of the remote.
As the smoke from the fireball slowly dissipated, Whisper could make out a dark shape falling into the stands below. “There,” she said as she pointed to the fuzzy figure, tracking his descent with her finger until he disappeared into the crowd.
«I’ve found you, you bastard.»
The camera circled the area, honed in on the Diamond Cutters as they descended to the stands. Hundreds of bystanders stood and gawked at the unfolding spectacle, faces of fear and confusion abounding.
“He’s somewhere in this crowd,” she concluded, turning back to the group, “look for any lone strangers with brown eyes, anyone trying to be nondescript and anonymous.”
“...It’d be easier to see if the camera was zoomed in,” muttered Kit, looking toward Silver as he tried to fidget with the remote.
After half a minute of button-mashing, Silver finally looked back at the fennec. “I uh… I don’t know how?” admitted Silver sheepishly.
Kit rolled his eyes, walked over to the projector, and took the remote out of the hedgehog’s hands. After a few seconds of tinkering, he pointed at the screen and clicked, causing the image to zoom into the stands.
“There, now it's zoomed in,” he said grumpily, handing the remote back. Silver looked back and forth between the surly fennec and the screen, an amazed look on his face.
“Wow, thanks Kit!” said the time traveler, “I’m not used to working with this kind of tech…”
“P-Please don’t mention it,” he quickly said, embarrassed by the sudden praise. “So, does anyone see any… leads?”
“Ooh, what about that guy hiding behind the benches?” called out Tangle, leaping from her chair and tapping her finger on a terrified mouse huddled in the back corner.
Whisper looked at the Mobian in question, waiting for him to turn his face to the camera. Eventually, the mouse looked up, and Whisper’s eyes widened as she saw a mouse pup held tight in his arms. “Can’t be him, he’s got a kid,” she sighed.
Kit gazed at a female gazelle wearing sunglasses, looking around curiously. “She’s hidden her eyes…” he mumbled, brushing his teal bangs to the side as he eyed the suspect.
“Keep an eye on her, see if she loses the shades or starts to run for it,” said Whisper.
The minutes ticked by as the three Mobians carefully watched the footage, looking for any sign of the traitorous octopus. They quickly ruled out anyone who didn't have brown eyes or was a part of a group, but that still left over 30 Mobians to scrutinize.
«At this rate, it might take us up to an hour just to figure out his identity,» Whisper calculated, «and who knows how far he’s gotten at this point.»
“Ughhhhhh,” groaned Surge, her eyes rolling in boredom, “how hard is it to find one evil octopus? I mean, the guy fell outta the frickin’ sky! And none of you dunderheads can figure out who he is?”
Whisper turned, about to lecture the tenrec on her lazy conduct, when she heard an excited gasp from Tangle. “Oh my gosh, that’s it!” she cried, “He fell out of the sky! Which means he might have been injured by the fall!”
Whisper turned to the lemur and smiled. “I knew I could count on you.” Tangle blushed at the compliment, while Surge rolled her eyes.
“Replay it one more time,” she said to Silver as she turned her gaze back to the screen.
“... Which one was it… Ah, there!” The footage rewound, right to the point where the Diamond Cutters had set off to the Restoration ship. Whisper watched like a hawk, assessing each Mobian for any hidden injuries.
«There!» Whisper’s eyes locked onto a purple dog, shuffling slowly away from the front of the stands. He seemed to blend in seamlessly with the milling crowd, outside of the occasional paranoid glance above. His eyes were brown, his face pained as he stumbled towards the back of the stands.
She practically stabbed the projector with her finger as she pointed at the dog, slowly making his exit. “We finally found him,” she stated, turning to her team.
“Now, we just need to know where he’s going.”
***
Mimic grasped another cup of whiskey and nursed it in his hand, watching the liquid swirl in a mesmerizing spiral. Around him were a few empty glasses, haphazardly strewn across the bar. After a few seconds of contemplation, he downed the shot in a single motion.
«Egh, this cheap crap is foul,» he grimaced as the bitter taste burned its way down his throat. «Barely even feel a buzz… guess I got too used to the good stuff.»
Back when he was familiarizing himself with Restoration HQ, “Duo” had discovered a cache of fine wine tucked away in storage. Apparently, it was a gift from the mayor of a town famous for its wine-making. Of the few people who knew of it, only Lanolin was old enough to drink, and she seemed to prefer coffee over anything alcoholic.
As such, nobody seemed to notice when a few bottles started disappearing over time. «Heh, sure helped keep the urge to gut Whisper off my mind…» he reminisced, chuckling slightly.
He leaned forward, both elbows on the table as he discretely glanced around. The bar was lowly lit, neither bustling with people nor deserted. Soft jazz played overhead, the sound slightly crunchy as it filtered through the old speakers.
This wasn’t the first time he'd been to this bar, the Cobra Lounge. The owner was apparently a good friend of Clutch’s, and Mimic had been invited more than once to meet at this bar whenever Clutch wanted to talk face–to-face. It was at one of these meetings that Clutch had gifted him that laser pistol for “personal use”, a rare courtesy from the greedy crime boss. «If the old man is still alive, he’ll know to find me here.»
Mimic looked behind him, squinting at the clock on the opposite side of the bar. «It’s getting close to lunch time… haven’t heard a peep yet. Might want to come back later in the evening…» he reasoned.
Just as he was about to go for lunch, the bell dinged at the entrance. An older sheepdog, fur white and shaggy, casually walked to the bar, an envelope clutched in his left hand. Mimic took stock of him as the sheepdog flagged down the barkeeper. After a few seconds of hushed conversation, he glanced in Mimic’s direction, looked back to the barkeeper, and nodded.
Mimic pretended not to notice as the sheepdog approached, looking ahead as his right arm slowly drifted towards one of his concealed knives. «Just in case…» Mimic thought.
“Ahem, uh… Russo?” asked the sheepdog with a gravelly voice.
Mimic cocked his head to the Mobian. “Might be. Who’s askin’?” he replied.
“The boss asked me to give you this,” answered the sheepdog as he slid the envelope across the table. “You take care now,” he said, nodding to the rooster before turning towards the exit.
As the bell jingled, Mimic took the envelope in one hand and tore it open with a faux talon. Looking inside, Mimic grabbed a folded letter adorned with an ornate stamp, as well as a couple of rings bound together which he gladly pocketed. Looking around to make sure he was alone, Mimic unfolded the letter and began to read it.
Hello Russo,
I’m glad to hear that you’re still around after that nasty business in Central City. I feared that you might have moved on by the time I could reestablish myself. Thankfully, if you’re reading this letter, then those fears were unfounded.
I must confess, I’ve been put in a difficult situation with my company. The media frenzy has greatly complicated my position at Clean Sweep, and I’ve been pushed into a corporate merger in order to alleviate those concerns.
That is where you come in, my friend. Your particular talents for “demolition” would be invaluable to me while negotiations are still ongoing. The meeting will be this evening at 6:30 PM, at my residence in White Park. I want you to arrive by 6 PM, so that we can have time to discuss specifics before the meeting. Rest assured, you will be well-compensated for this arrangement.
I’ve included 50 rings alongside this letter, which should be plenty for the train out of Central City as well as to pay for your tab at the Cobra Lounge. See you soon, Russo the Rooster.
Regards,
Clutch the Opossum
“Well I’ll be…” Mimic said with a grin, “looks like the old rat still lives."
He took half of the rings from the letter and set them on the table. «Usually don’t bother paying for drinks,» he thought as he flagged down the barkeeper, «but if Clutch wants to pick up the tab, who am I to refuse? Better to play nice for now…»
He staggered slightly as he walked out of the bar, the buzz of alcohol slightly inhibiting his razor-sharp reflexes. As the door jingled and Mimic stepped out into the street, he contemplated the implications of Clutch’s message.
A sense of euphoria washed over him as he walked to the train station. “Finally got my lucky break, hehe…” he chuckled, “I’ll have the chance to get back on my feet, give some time to take the heat off…”
He stopped, gaze locked onto a Restoration recruitment poster plastered onto a billboard across the street. Depicted on the advertisement were the Neo Diamond Cutters:
Whisper, front and center with a stoic look, her Wispon by her side and her wisps floating around her; Tangle, a friendly grin on her face and an arm wrapped around Whisper, her bushy tail off to the side; and Lanolin, her bell jangling at her neck as she gives a tired smile, standing at attention just beside Whisper.
A malicious grin spread across his face as he gazed at the poster. “The universe cannot keep me down, Whisper… I’ll find you, someday.”
“And when I do, the Diamond Cutter name will die along with you.”
Notes:
It turns out that growing up in a hellscape future means you aren't the best at dealing with technology. Not that I blame him, video projectors are one of the devil's greatest pranks on humanity, second only to printers. At least Kit can help him out!
Anyways, have you ever wondered how the heck Whisper is able to track down a shapeshifter? The answer is hard work, luck, and a whole lot of accessible cameras. It also helps when your quarry has to keep the same disguise on for a whole day just so his boss knows how to call him.
Also, how often do you think Mimic actually pays for anything at a restaurant or bar? If I had shapeshifting powers and no ethical qualms, I'd ghost every restaurant I come across... Now that I think of it, maybe that's how Whisper tracks down Mimic. Follow the pattern of ghosted establishments, and you find the evil octopus!
Chapter 5: Karma
Notes:
Finally, all the buildup has led up to this point. Get ready, this is probably my favorite chapter so far.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Snow crunched under Mimic’s boots as he hiked up the winding path to the White Park Grand Chateau. Around him stood a forest of evergreen trees, snow-topped greenery stretching for miles across the frigid mountains in the distance.
As another gust of icy wind slammed into him, Mimic began to regret not having stopped at White Park to grab a jacket before he started his ascent. The feathers of his disguise were a poor substitute for proper winter clothing and were beginning to frost over from the winter chill.
Ahead of him loomed the Chateau, a luxurious ski lodge that doubled as Clutch’s residence. The building struck an imposing figure, its dark oak facade and fancy tinted windows were visible all the way from White Park. As Mimic approached, however, it was clear that the popular resort was now deserted. The building’s red roofs were covered with snow, the marble fountain in the front courtyard was frozen over, and a faded cutout of a Chao stood at the entrance, showing that the lodge was closed to the public.
The silence unnerved him. «This is the home of one of Mobius’s biggest crime lords, and I’m able to just waltz through the front door? Where in the hell is everyone?» he wondered, scanning the windows for any sign of life.
He stopped at the outskirts of the lodge, despite the cold seeping through his feathers. There was a small, paranoid part of his brain that was screaming about this being a setup. «I was so caught up in the moment, I didn't even bother to question it! That’s what I get for drinking on the job…» he thought, turning around to make sure nobody was stalking him.
He reexamined the letter to check that it was authentic. «Yeah, it’s him. Mentions ‘Russo’ by name and everything,» he mused, «so either I’ve got the wrong address, or this bastard wants to surprise me…»
For a moment, Mimic was tempted to run back down the hill. He looked back at the letter, eyes narrowing on the words ‘well-compensated’, and reluctantly gave in.
He approached the front door of the chateau and tried the handle, finding it unlocked. As the door swung open, he was greeted by an empty hall decorated with an embroidered red carpet. Egg Pawns, reprogrammed to serve Clutch, sat abandoned around the hall. Mimic eyed the inert badniks with suspicion, noting their positions in case of an ambush.
”Didn’t you see that we’re closed for the season?” Called out a familiar voice to his right. Mimic’s hand instinctively reached for his knife as he turned towards the source.
His eyes landed on Clutch the Opossum, standing atop a flight of stairs. The crime boss was dressed in his usual dapper appearance, a classy white uniform alongside his trusty cane. The crime boss tipped his hat towards the octopus as he descended to the ground floor.
“Never took you for the holiday sort, Mimic,” he said with a cheeky smirk as he eyed the blade pointed at him.
Mimic sighed in relief, his form melting back into his typical octopus appearance. “You trying to give me a heart attack?” he asked, sheathing his knife under his dark cloak.
“You’re not quite old enough for that, my friend,” Clutch joked as he spun his cane. “I’m happy to see you arrived on time. Might I trouble you for a tour of our facilities, before we commence our business?” The crime boss turned on a heel and began walking down the hall.
“A tour implies there’s something to see,” Mimic snarked as he followed Clutch, eyeing the dusty furniture around them. The air inside was warmer than outside, but Mimic still found himself shivering slightly as they walked along.
“It is the off-season, so most of my employees are stationed elsewhere,” Clutch offered with a nonchalant shrug. “You should visit next year when the Chao Races come around; that’s when you’ll see some real splendor.”
“Anyway, where the hell is your security? Don’t tell me a big crime boss like yourself lives alone in a giant mansion?” Mimic asked incredulously.
As they passed a nearby electrical panel, Clutch produced a key out of one of his pockets. He unlocked the panel, flipped a few switches, and closed the panel again. Mimic turned to see that behind them, the inert Egg Pawns began to reactivate. Some merely stood at attention as guards, while others grabbed cleaning supplies and began to wipe down the hall’s furniture.
Clutch gave him a sharp grin. “Does that put your worries to rest?”
The octopus huffed, unimpressed. “You seem to be in a fantastic mood for someone who was just exposed on national television for being a scumbag.”
Clutch frowned slightly at the reminder, eyeing the octopus as they neared an elevator at the end of the hall. “Yes, that whole affair was quite the blow to our popularity,” he remarked, stopping at the elevator’s entrance to press the up button.
The door opened, and Mimic followed Clutch as the elevator shuddered to life, taking them up to the second floor. “The Restoration caught us off-guard with how… proactive their investigations were. That, coupled with some incompetence from my employees–” Clutch paused for a second as he remembered who he was speaking to, “Present company excluded, of course.”
“Of course,” acknowledged Mimic, rolling his eyes at the opossum. “And by the way, I never thanked you for yelling into my radio at the top of your lungs. I always wanted to be a star on live television.”
Clutch cleared his throat, pointedly ignoring Mimic’s comment. “Anyways, because of the negative publicity, we’ve lost a good chunk of our workforce,” he admitted. “Most of them were low-skilled labor, but it has unfortunately dampened the scale of our local salvaging operations.”
“Didn’t know you had so many ‘true believers’ working for you,” Mimic sneered.
“It’s much easier to get away with paying a low wage when people think your business is a charity,” Clutch chuckled.
As the elevator doors opened, the two emerged on the second floor. In front of them was a balcony overlooking the entrance hall below, and to the sides were several penthouse suites, usually reserved for Clutch’s higher-end clientele. “This is where we’ll be meeting them,” Clutch pointed with his cane towards one suite, where twin Egg Pawns were standing guard at the entrance.
Unlike the other Egg Pawns cleaning below, Mimic noticed that these seemed brand new, without dents and polished to a factory shine. “Bringing out the fancy toys, huh?” he said, whistling at the two badniks as they headed for the door.
“Yes, these models have been specially prepared for this occasion,” replied Clutch smoothly, waving for the Egg Pawns to let them inside. After a small delay, one of the badniks opened the door, allowing the two to step into the suite.
“Make yourself at home,” Clutch said, inviting the octopus inside. It was a lavish little apartment, expensive rugs and silk-lined furniture more fit for a king’s bedroom than a clandestine business meeting. In the left corner was a cocktail station, where a shiny Egg Pawn was standing at attention. To the right was a brick fireplace with a few cozy chairs oriented to face it.
Mimic eagerly moved towards the fireplace, a wave of warmth washing away the residual wind chill of his outdoor hike. “Oh yeah… this is way more comfortable than the train,” he remarked as he sank into the soft cushions and watched the flickering flames.
“Want something to drink?” Clutch called from the cocktail station. “Sure. Something light, I’d rather be alert for the job,” Mimic replied.
Mimic heard low murmuring from Clutch, presumably giving the badnik on station his order. A few seconds went by, each moment punctuated by the ticking of a grandfather clock in the corner of the room.
«What’s taking him so long?» he began to wonder.
Just as he was about to forgo the comfortable embrace of silk and check on the opossum, Clutch finally appeared beside him. “Sorry, just had to give the bot my order,” he offered apologetically as he sat across from the octopus.
“What, feeling indecisive?” Mimic probed. Clutch tilted his head and looked up in thought.
“No, just some kinks with the programming that need to be sorted out,” he explained.
“Anyways, now that we’re here, let’s talk business,” Clutch declared, crossing his legs and using his cane to prop his hands in front of him.
“In a few minutes, our special guest is going to be arriving to begin negotiations on a potential merger between our companies. I will be the chief negotiator for the meeting, but I want you to gather information about our guest while they're here.
Clutch gave a vicious smile to the octopus. “Once the meeting concludes, you’ll follow them back to their headquarters and embed yourself within their company. I authorize you to do whatever it takes to give us an advantage in negotiations. Espionage, impersonation, kidnapping, murder: as long as none of it traces back to Clean Sweep.”
Mimic nodded, a grin of his own creeping onto his face. “Alright, I like where this is going. Now, as for being ‘well-compensated’...”
From behind one of the cushions on his seat, Clutch revealed a leather briefcase. He handed the briefcase over to Mimic, who spun the case around and clicked it open. His eyes widened as he took in the brimming contents of the case, the mass of rings practically glowing by the fireplace.
“Here is the promised payment. It accounts for both your work in Central City and this new job,” Clutch offered as Mimic began to count the rings inside the briefcase.
“This is… half a million rings.” Mimic looked incredulously at Clutch with a slack-jawed expression. “You promised me a fifth of this for the whole Sweepstakes job!”
«I haven’t seen this kind of money since-!» Mimic scrambled to recall when he’d last gotten as good an offer as this. Then he paused, as he realized that there was only one other time. «... since the day Eggman made the offer to betray the Diamond Cutters.»
“I take it you’re impressed,” Clutch said with a grin. “Do we have a deal?”
Mimic was sorely tempted to acquiesce. But he also knew Clutch. And while the crime boss cultivated an outward appearance of generosity, he was still a ruthless criminal overlord. “What’s the catch?” Mimic asked, closing the case so as to not spill any rings on the floor.
“I figured you’d ask that,” Clutch admitted, “The catch is that I don’t know who I’m meeting with.”
Mimic’s face furrowed in confusion. “What… What do you mean? How in the name of Gaia did you two even set up this meeting?”
Clutch shrugged, a brief flash of annoyance masked by his calm demeanor. “Correspondence began a few days ago, and always through indirect sources. This is going to be our first meeting in-person.”
“And it gets better,” he chuckled mirthlessly, “They claim to own half-a-dozen Mobian tech companies, specializing in electronic development and manufacturing. I’ve run checks on the companies mentioned, but all of them have a different CEO at the head. So either they’re a fellow criminal relying on pseudonyms, or they’re lying in order to gain an audience.”
“So you decided to just have a meeting in-person?” Mimic asked as he crossed his arms in disapproval, “you haven’t vetted them yet!”
“Well, that’s what I have you for,” reassured Clutch, “I’m confident that you’ll be able to find anything suspicious about them after our meeting is concluded.”
“And what if they’re with the Restoration?” Mimic shouted, raising his arms in exasperation, “For all you know, this place is a few minutes away from being raided!”
Clutch chortled heartily at the octopus’s annoyance. “If the Restoration was planning to come after me, they wouldn’t set up a fake identity and send me a written letter the day their HQ went up in flames.”
Mimic grumbled at Clutch’s lighthearted demeanor. “Look, how about you have a drink to settle your nerves,” proposed the crime boss. Mimic looked over to see the Egg Pawn from before standing beside them with a tray in its hand. The badnik reached onto the tray and handed the octopus a fizzling martini glass brimming with soft golden liquor.
As Clutch was handed a glass filled with blood-red wine, he raised that glass up high. “A toast to prosperity!” he declared, and both Mobians clinked their glasses together.
“Oh yeah, that’s much nicer than the stuff at the Cobra’s Lounge,” Mimic noted, downing his drink and setting his empty glass back on the tray. Clutch smiled, nursing his glass while taking the occasional sip.
“By the way, I know I didn’t ask this beforehand, but how did you manage to escape from that ship?” Mimic inquired.
Clutch laughed, leaning back into his chair as he slapped his knee. “Oh, it’s funny that you ask that now. I thought you’d be more curious about that!”
“Yeah? I just figured you had connections or somethin’,” Mimic admitted.
“Well let me tell you, it was certainly the most action I’ve seen in quite a while.” Clutch stood from his chair and began to pace in front of the fireplace, leaving his wine glass on the table.
“Like I said before, I underestimated the Restoration’s cunning and overestimated my own security forces. So when the director of the Restoration engaged the self-destruct on her own bloody ship, I had to… take matters into my own hands,” he chuckled, visually inspecting his cane as he slowly paced.
“So here I am, in a three-way battle between Sonic and that punk tenrec with her little fennec pet. Where’s my backup? Gone with the wind, scared of a little electricity!” he spat, tossing his hand up in the air.
“I’m not a big fan o’ gettin’ shocked either, bein’ an octopus and all,” Mimic admitted freely.
“Well, I might not look it, but I was something of a crack shot back in my day,” he stated proudly, raising his cane up and aiming towards the fireplace. “I’m even able to catch the great Sonic the Hedgehog off his game. He gets thrown off his extreme gear, and I get the bright idea to grab it to try and escape.”
“Ahh, th’ one he’s ridin’ on as th’ Phant’m Rid’r…” Mimic blinked, furrowing his brow as he realized how slurred his own speech was becoming.
“But then… an unexpected variable appeared.” Clutch finally stopped his pacing, turning towards Mimic and setting his wine glass on the table in front of them.
“Wh’…What?” Mimic stumbled, trying to shake the cloudy feeling that was enveloping his mind. “Wai’, why… th’ wasn’t s’poss’d… t’ be a…”
Clutch smiled softly as Mimic’s eyes widened in shock. “As it turns out, the Phantom Rider’s gear was provided by a… dare I say, infamous source. A source you know quite well, in fact.”
“A source who just so happens to be our special guest,” he whispered, leaning in close.
“You…” Mimic tried to sit up, to go for his knife, to move anything at all. But his limbs refused to cooperate, his body now completely numb. The mental fog was so heavy that he was struggling just to stay awake, much less process what was happening to him.
“I suppose that it’s time for me to come clean, old friend,” Clutch admitted, his tone dripping with false sympathy, “I am not the one who truly requested your special talents tonight. That offer goes to my new partner-in-crime.”
Mimic froze as he heard a bellowing laugh, a terrible, familiar cackle that seemed to reverberate throughout the chateau. “How very charming, my crafty collaborator! I knew you’d come through with your promises.”
«No… No! Not him!» Mimic could do nothing but sit in terror as the infamous figure of Doctor Eggman appeared beside Clutch.
“It’s been a pleasure doing business, Doctor,” Clutch said, extending a hand towards the doctor. “I trust that my debt to you has been repaid?”
The doctor sneered, accepting the crime boss’s handshake. “For the moment, yes. At least you’re smart enough to know not to cross me. You have all the paperwork prepared?”
“Of course, Doctor. All it requires is your signature.”
“Good! You know, I’ve never been a big fan of recycling. But if it doubles the reach of the Eggman Empire, who am I to refuse?!” Eggman barked.
The doctor then turned, looming over the powerless octopus with his signature evil grin.
“Ohohohoho! And what do we have here?” chortled the doctor, “thought you could escape me, you malignant mollusk?!”
The doctor grabbed Mimic by the tentacles, painfully yanking him out of his seat like a sack of potatoes so that the two were face to face. Eggman’s eyes were hidden behind his opaque goggles, sizing up the trembling octopus like a predator ready to strike.
“You are now property of the Eggman Empire,” he whispered menacingly, “and I do not tolerate desertion. Enjoy your little nap, pest. We’ll be seeing each other again very soon.”
Eggman snapped his fingers, and Mimic heard the two Egg Pawns outside approach. “Take him to my ship and place him in stasis. We’ll be leaving shortly,” he ordered.
As Mimic began to be dragged away by the badniks, his grasp on consciousness slipping, he saw Clutch giving him a sly smirk and a mock tip of the hat.
“With that business finally out of the way…” Clutch grabbed his wine glass, and raised it towards the mad doctor. “To the glory of the Eggman Empire!”
And that declaration was the final thing Mimic heard, before he finally fell unconscious.
Notes:
Looks like Mimic's gotten himself into a tiny pickle! I'm sure he'll be fine though. Right?
Fun fact, Eggman is canonically obscenely rich because he sells his inventions through shell companies and pseudonyms. You'd think it'd be harder for a world-infamous genocidal pariah to do that, but I suppose it's rather difficult to stop someone with a 300 IQ and a private robotic army capable of conquering the world from evading international law. At least it explains how the hell he has the money to replace all the robots Sonic keeps blowing up.
Chapter 6: Evading Justice
Notes:
Jeez this chapter took a while to make. It took so long, that Mimic's already dead! Well, guess that's it then. Pack it up fellas, story's over!
Just kidding, hehe. Anyways, despite the struggle, I'm pretty darn happy with how this chapter turned out.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
“We’re in position,” came Silver’s voice from the radio, “ready when you guys are.”
Through the night vision in her tactical mask, Whisper could make out three figures on the second floor of the motel. Silver stood in front of the apartment, ready to break through the door’s lock with his psychic powers. Surge and Kit lined up behind him, tasked with storming inside once Silver cleared the entrance.
The mask’s targeting algorithms provided her with a stream of information, calculating optimal firing arcs for her Wispon. Whisper shifted into a prone position, resting an arm on the ledge of the roof she was laying on. She zeroed in on the single window of the apartment, adjusting her aim in conjunction with the mask’s software.
Around her, the usual din of city traffic still persisted, even at this late hour. The night sky was cloudy, the moon hidden from view. Bright lights decorated the city skyline, with skyscrapers and high rise apartments adorned with gleaming dots across their surface.
Clicking a button on the side of her mask, Whisper spoke into the built-in radio. “I’ve got a firing position, but I can’t get a good look inside. The lights are off and the blinds are raised. Surge, Kit, he might have readied an ambush, so be careful.”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever Squinty. Just make sure the cameras are rolling for when I save the day again,” came Surge’s cocky reply.
Whisper sighed, muting her radio as she raised her head towards Tangle, who was sitting on top of a water tower. The lemur was the dedicated lookout, using a pair of binoculars to scout the perimeter. «And it keeps her out of harm’s way…» she added, gazing at Tangle wistfully.
“How are we looking?” Whisper asked.
“Nothing suspicious to report!” Tangle chirped from her perch, “Are you sure Mimic’s even inside?”
“Mmm… might be,” Whisper answered. “The owner said that he paid for a few nights in that room. It's possible he fled early before we arrived.”
“Well, in any case, it’ll be good practice for everyone!” Tangle reasoned. She grabbed her radio off her belt using her tail and said, “Lookout is all clear!”
Whisper nodded, then lowered her head back to her firing position. She took a deep breath as she unmuted her radio and steadied her aim. “I’m all clear. Go for it, Silver.”
She saw a bright flash of blue psychic energy, and the door flung open like a leaf caught in a windy draft. The sharp crackle of electricity rang out as Surge and Kit made their way inside. After a few seconds of tense silence, Surge’s voice came over the radio. “Damnit, he’s not even here!”
“You sure?” Whisper asked, skeptical of the tenrec’s thoroughness.
“I CHECKED the damn place, Squinty! It already looks like a frickin’ mess, but unless your octopus pal can turn into a pile of pillow fluff, there ain’t nothing to see here!” Surge indignantly replied.
“Yeah, I don’t see anyone either,” Silver chimed in, “On the plus side, maybe we can set a trap for him when he comes back?”
“Doubtful. If he’s not here now, he’s not coming back,” Whisper begrudgingly admitted. “Hold on, we’re coming in.”
She stood on top of the roof, shifting her Wispon from laser to hover mode as she looked towards Tangle. The lemur hopped off of the water tower and landed beside her. “Ready when you are!” Tangle confirmed, interlocking her arms around the wolf.
Whisper leapt forward, her Wispon raised to the sky. An energy field resembling an umbrella sprouted from the top end, holding the pair above the traffic below as they glided towards their destination. Right as they reached the hotel, Whisper disengaged her Wispon, allowing both of them to land right in front of the apartment.
The floor was littered with broken glass from the TV, a plastic remote forcibly lobbed into the screen. The bed’s pillows had been ripped open, their contents collected and discarded into an overflowing trash bin in the corner. Surge stood in the center of the room, grumbling curses under her breath. Kit, meanwhile, was trying to dislodge the remote from the TV with one of his watery tendrils. He partially succeeded, with half of the remote coming loose alongside some crumbling bits of glass.
“Whoa… This place is pretty trashed,” observed Tangle as they walked through the apartment. Whisper opened the bathroom door and stepped inside. She noted the towels carelessly tossed across the countertop, swiping at the bone-dry sink with her finger. After a few seconds of mental calculation, Whisper sighed and stepped back out.
“He wasn't here recently. Must have left earlier before we picked up his trail,” Whisper concluded, shaking her head in disappointment.
“Ah, shoot…” Tangle lamented, “Well, now what?”
Whisper looked towards the doorway, where Silver was standing. “Silver, go with Kit to see if the owner has any cameras on this floor.”
“You got it!” Silver responded, giving a quick salute. Kit nodded silently and followed the hedgehog down the hall.
“Why’d you send Drippy and Psycho to go do that?” Surge questioned.
“It’d be good to know when he left and if he’s switched disguises yet,” Whisper explained.
“Oh great, so we're wasting even more time?” Surge objected, “How about we stop checking for clues and actually catch the guy, huh?!”
“Well, we can’t go anywhere until we know where we’re going first,” Tangle chided. She turned to Whisper with an expectant glance. “You know Mimic’s habits better than anyone else. What’s he most likely to do right now?”
Whisper considered that question for a moment. “… Mimic is a prideful coward. When his ego is bruised, he either lashes out or runs away to plot his revenge.”
“Oh yeah, and I bet it was pretty embarrassing getting called out by his own boss in front of everyone,” Tangle pointed out.
“If he were planning to ambush us, we would have known by now. That means he’s trying to escape,” Whisper reasoned.
The thought incensed her. Mimic had been allowed to escape justice too many times before. If they didn’t act quickly, he’d be able to disappear, hiding away in some tucked-away village until he felt ready to strike. It was infuriating, having this murderer toying with her.
«Make no mistake, Mimic. Your reign of terror will end someday. I will avenge them, mark my words,» Whisper vowed to herself.
“Well, I’ve got an idea,” Surge interjected, snapping Whisper out of her thoughts. “I say that we oughta pay a visit to Clean Sweep.”
“What for?” Tangle asked curiously.
“Use your noggin, Twinkletoes. If he's been palling around with Clutch, clearly the rat might know where the heck his octopus buddy might be!”
“Well, we can’t exactly talk to Clutch. Last anyone saw him, he was getting carried away by Eggman,” Tangle pointed out.
“W-Well yeah, I know that! I was there y'know!” Surge stuttered angrily, “But maybe there's some secret hidey hole that both of 'em know about in case anyone's cover got blown. And if that's the case, then maybe he left it at his base when he got conked out!”
“...It’s not a bad idea,” Whisper conceded.
Surge grinned, satisfied with Whisper’s admission. “Heh, of course it’s a great idea! I came up with it. Now, where’d Drippy run off to?”
The tenrec walked off as she searched for her fennec partner. Whisper threw a dismayed look to Tangle as the lemur chuckled. “You’d think she’d start floating with how inflated her ego is,” she joked.
Now that she was alone with Tangle, Whisper’s stalwart facade cracked. She giggled, wiping her brow as she sat down on the bed. “She’s almost as bad as Eggman, and that’s saying something.”
Tangle laughed, her bubbly voice echoing throughout the apartment. “Awww, at least she’s helping us now!”
“She thinks she’s helping,” Whisper corrected, rolling her eyes, “she just does whatever she wants and expects praise at the end.”
“Well, I’m sure you can handle her just fine,” Tangle said confidently, “Just don’t let her get to you, okay?”
“It’s not the showboating that I’m worried about…” Whisper replied quietly. Tangle thought for a moment.
“... Look, I know you and her have some bad history together, but just give her a chance to prove herself,” Tangle asked, “She might be a bit full of herself, but she seems like she wants to do the right thing now.”
Whisper sat in silence for a moment as she contemplated Tangle’s words. Despite their clashes in the past, Surge did seem willing to go along with them for now. Yet, there was still a small, nagging voice in the back of her mind that warned about trusting her. A paranoia that she had not felt in a long time had crept up on her once again, caused by Mimic’s reappearance.
“... Alright, I’ll try to give her a chance,” she agreed hesitantly. “But I’ll still be watching her closely.”
Tangle smiled and hugged Whisper, wrapping her tail around the two of them in a fuzzy embrace. “Thank you, Whisper.”
“And I’m still not bringing out the Wisps around her,” Whisper added with a slight smile.
“Hehe, that’s probably for the best,” Tangle agreed.
Suddenly, from Tangle’s radio came the voice of a very impatient tenrec. “Hey, are you slowpokes STILL upstairs?! HURRY UP, Drippy’s found something!” barked Surge through the speaker.
“Well, guess we should make our way down then,” Tangle concluded.
Whisper nodded, and the two walked out together to join their companions downstairs.
***
“Lost in thought, Mimic?”
Mimic blinked as he tore his gaze away from the campfire. To his right, Claire the Monkey was patiently waiting for him to respond. “It’s nothing. Did you need something?” he assured her.
She gave an enigmatic smile, then held up a blackened marshmallow. “I asked if you’d like an extra marshmallow. Slinger burned his last one, so he offered for you to have it instead.”
“What am I, a garbage disposal?” he spat incredulously, turning his head to Slinger the Ocelot sitting across the fire. “How hard is it to pay attention to a marshmallow for a few minutes?”
“I got distracted, okay?!” Slinger defended, sticking his tongue out at the surly octopus. “Besides, we all know you’re not one to turn down free food.”
Mimic grumbled, but accepted the burnt offering. “Yeah, because we’re at war, in case you forgot. And you’re still a growing kid, you need the nutrients. Can’t afford to be a picky eater.”
“Uh huh, and what nutrients would a burnt marshmallow provide?” Slinger glibly responded. “Nothing in there but burnt sugar!”
“Sugar is energy, you need that on the field,” Mimic insisted as he bit into the charred candy with his beak. “If I were you, I’d be thankful Smithy managed to find that pack of marshmallows at all. Convenience stores get looted damn quickly when the world goes to Chaos.”
To Mimic’s left, Smithy the Lion looked up from a gadget he was tinkering with. “Eh? Someone mention my name?”
Slinger rolled his eyes playfully as he looked over towards the lion. “Yeah, Mickey’s complaining that I’m not getting all my nutrients ‘cuz I gave him a marshmallow.”
Smithy raised an eyebrow at the junior Diamond Cutter as he reached for a screwdriver laying on the ground. “Well, if Mimic’s saying you should eat more, I think you should listen to him.”
“Yeah kid, listen to your elders,” Mimic snarked, “And I thought I told you to stop calling me ‘Mickey’.”
“Aw, c’mon! It’s a fun nickname,” Slinger defended, “Whisper calls you ‘Mickey’ too!”
“Yeah, because she picked it up from you,” he reminded the ocelot. Looking around, he noted that Whisper was curiously absent. “Speaking of, where is she?”
Clair looked out into the woods that surrounded their campsite, trying to sense where Whisper was. “I think she went scouting around the camp…” After a few seconds, she pointed in a particular direction. “She’s close. I see her looking over Red Rock Canyon.”
“I think you should bring her back here, Mimic,” Smithy suggested as he set the screwdriver down and began fiddling with the gadget’s controls.“It’s getting late, and we have to be up by sunrise tomorrow if we want to make it to the chemical plant.”
Mimic nodded, and walked in the direction that Claire pointed him in. Streaks of silver moonlight illuminated his path as he moved through the woods. The dense vegetation became sparse after a few minutes of walking, soft dirt replaced with hard granite as he neared his destination.
Clearing the final line of trees, Mimic finally spotted Whisper sitting alone on the edge of the cliff. She seemed to be looking up at the stars above, gawking at the constellations in the sky. As he neared her, he slowed his pace to a silent crawl until he was right behind her.
“Hey kid,” he murmured into her ear.
“AHHH-!” she shrieked, whipping around her Wispon before she realized that it was him. “D-Don’t scare me like that!” she protested, giving him a light smack in the arm.
“Then pay attention to your surroundings,” he chided, “how am I supposed to trust you to have my back in the field if you can’t even watch your own?”
“I-I was only distracted for a moment…” she lamented, lowering her Wispon as she stood up and faced the shapeshifter.
“It only takes a moment. What if I’d been an Egg Pawn? You’d have been shot in the back before you could react.” He pointed a finger gun at Whisper’s forehead, who promptly swatted it away.
“Oh come on, that’s not fair! You know there isn’t a badnik around that can be as stealthy as you, Mickey.” Whisper looked back toward the distant column of smoke rising from the woods. “And besides, we always have each other's backs during a mission.”
“First off, I told you not to call me Mickey. Don’t copy Slinger, he’s a terrible role model,” Mimic began, eliciting a chortle from the wolf. “And secondly, you need to learn how to be self-sufficient. I don’t want to have to save your sorry ass because you were too busy admiring a pretty view.”
“Oh, don’t be so grumpy!” she tisked, an innocent smile playing across her face, “We’re all in this together, aren’t we?”
Mimic was silent for a moment as he looked up towards the sky. “Yes, I suppose we are, kid.”
LIAR.
The accusation was deafening and all-encompassing. Mimic whipped his head to Whisper, who was no longer smiling. Her clothes were tattered and muddy, and her eyes were filled with murderous rage. She snarled, lunging at him and throwing him off balance. He gasped in pain as his head connected with the rocky ground, his vision swimming.
YOU KILLED THEM.
The scenery around him shifted, no longer a peaceful cliffside but rather the cold, metallic interior of an Eggman facility. In front of him laid the still forms of Claire, Slinger, and Smithy, surrounded by Shadow Androids whose fists were still dripping with blood. Their masks were cracked, uniforms were torn, and faces beaten bloody.
YOU KILLED US.
Mimic recoiled in horror as the corpses looked towards him with milky eyes and blank expressions. Suddenly, a cacophony of pleading voices rang out in his head, the final words of the Diamond Cutters seared into his memory.
“We’re sealed in!”
“ FIRE AT WILL!”
“Mimic! Whisper! We need evac!”
“Mimic! Where are you?!”
Mimic cradled his head with his arms, trying in vain to shut out the voices. “Stop!” Mimic shouted, “I don’t- I don’t care! They weren’t my team! They were weak!”
YOU DESERVE TO SUFFER.
Mimic froze as he heard the boisterous laughter of Doctor Robotnik behind him. “Ohohohohoho! I see there’s still one more loose end to tie up!”
The Shadow Androids turned towards Mimic and began to advance on him. “G-Get away from me!” he cried, brandishing his combat knife. One Shadow Android stepped forward and knocked the blade out of his hands, then socked him in the jaw.
As he fell, the other Androids pounced, beating his body mercilessly with punches and kicks. Mimic could do nothing but scream in pain.
In the end, he felt almost relieved when the knockout punch finally sent him into the abyss.
Notes:
One of the main reasons this chapter took like five billion years was because I kept scrapping and rewriting what the Diamond Cutters are doing at this point in the story. It was certainly a process, but I think they're in a good spot now.
That uh, certainly can't be said of Mimic right now. Well, in the story anyway. I think the guy might have a few issues. I'm sure things can't get that much worse for him though, right?
Chapter 7: Shocking Developments
Notes:
Got this chapter done just in time for my birthday today! It's certainly a happy occasion for me... for Mimic? Not so much :b
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Mimic startled awake, frantically attempting to sit up, only to realize he couldn’t move his limbs. He was laid across a metal table, his arms and legs secured by cuffs at each corner. Acting on instinct, he tried to transform his arms into something smaller in order to slip out of the cuffs. His eyes widened in panic as he felt nothing but a numbing sensation in his limbs, watching as the transformation fizzled out before he could get free. “What the hell?... Where am I?!” he questioned, his eyes darting across the room as his mind scrambled for answers.
A moment later, his gaze landed on the crimson insignia painted on the room’s only exit, and his heart sank. “No… no, this can’t be real. I can’t be back here. I can’t! It’s not POSSIBLE!” he cried in disbelief. His breathing grew more and more frenzied, sweat perspiring down his brow as Mimic shut his eyes and tried to calm himself down.
«This has to be part of that nightmare, right? Any second now, I’ll wake up, and things will be back to normal… Any second now!» Mimic desperately reasoned. After a few moments, he opened his eyes, greeted only by the drab ceiling panels of the holding cell. The gentle humming of electricity in the air mocked him, dashing any delusions he might have still held about his situation.
“Okay, this is… not good,” Mimic admitted in an even tone, trying to keep himself from losing it completely. He knocked his head into the table a few times as he tried to clear his mind. «Pull yourself together, you’re supposed to be a professional! Now, how in Chaos did I end up here?»
Tamping down his emotions for the moment, Mimic racked his brain as he tried to recall what had happened last night. «Well, the last thing I remember doing was… going to meet with Clutch. He sent me that envelope to meet him at the Chateau, and then he brought–»
The realization struck like a thunderbolt in his mind. That disastrous series of events at the Chateau, Clutch’s betrayal, being drugged and captured by Eggman: it was all coming back to him now. Mimic seethed with rage as he recalled the opossum's gloating smile. «That… that bastard! He made a deal with Robotnik?!»
The more Mimic thought about it, the more pieces slid into place. Little oddities that he dismissed before were now damning in hindsight. «Those brand-new badniks must have been Robotnik’s, not Clutch’s… and those drinks! That cheeky snake, talking about ‘malfunctioning equipment’! And that stupid story about the mystery CEO who appears out of thin air to save him?! Why didn’t I catch that?!» Mimic questioned, slamming his head into the table again out of sheer frustration.
After a few moments, Mimic glared towards the camera pointed directly at him in the corner of the room. “I’m sure you think you won, didn’t you? I bet you thought that you could just cut me out, make a deal behind my back, and get rid of me, huh?!”
“WELL YOU’RE DEAD WRONG!” the octopus furiously bellowed, “And when I find you, you traitorous little weasel, I’ll SKIN YOU ALIVE! YOU HEAR ME, CLUTCH?! YOU’LL PAY FOR WHAT YOU’VE DONE TO ME! HOW DARE YOU… you…”
Mimic’s ire dissipated as the sheer irony of the situation dawned on him. Here he was, betrayed and left to die by someone he thought he could trust. Mimic thought of the dream he had, of the rage and hatred in Whisper’s expression as she threw him to the ground.
After a moment of hesitation, Mimic dismissed the memory. «No, this isn’t a… betrayal. Betrayal implies that… that I should have expected him to be trustworthy! I mean, how naive can you be to think that a crime boss wouldn’t sell you out, right? That’s the way the world works! It’s just business, after all…» he chided to himself.
«Really, I should have known better. We both should have known better. And yet we played along with that stupid… team, when everyone had to have known it was temporary. And for what? What purpose did they truly fulfill? A power plant here, a village there… none of it mattered in the end anyway. All I did was… speed things along.»
Mimic’s bitter musings were interrupted as the door suddenly hissed open, revealing the sinister silhouette of Dr. Eggman. He twiddled his mustache as he stepped inside, chuckling as he regarded the octopus restrained on the table. “Ohohoho! Anyone getting a sense of… deja vu?” asked the doctor, his smile wide with sadistic glee.
“Doctor Robotnik…” Mimic swallowed hard, his mouth dry as the mad doctor began to circle him. “To what do I owe this… pleasure?”
“I’m sure you already know, my sycophantic squid. Tell me, have your accommodations been to your liking?” Eggman gestured towards the table with a mischievous grin, “I’ve outfitted these restraints specifically to suit your particular talents.”
Mimic involuntarily shivered as he stared down the mad doctor, scrambling to think of anything he could say. “Look, Doctor… I implore that you reconsider–”
“Oh, I don’t believe any reconsiderations are necessary,” Eggman interrupted, pulling a remote out of his pocket. “The time for negotiations has passed, and you’ve proven to be a defective asset. And I’m sure you don’t need my genius to know what I do to defects.”
Mimic’s eyes widened at the phrase, snapping his head towards the doctor in dismay as he pointed the remote downward. “P-please… Doctor, I could still be useful to you! I–”
With a click, the table became live. The gentle hum of electrical currents sharpened as Mimic yelled in pain, his limbs going rigid from the electricity wracking his body.
“You know, amphibious Mobians are particularly vulnerable to electrical currents,” Eggman grinned, still holding the button down as he watched the octopus convulse in agony, "Compared to other Mobians, your kind has a particularly high concentration of sodium ions inside your bodies. I suppose that’s why many amphibious Mobians are so wary of modern technology. Wouldn’t want to be exposed to such a shocking experience! Hohohohoho!”
Finally, the doctor released the remote, and Mimic gasped with relief as the current ebbed out of his body. His head turned towards Eggman, his voice faint as he pleaded for his life, “Please… Please don’t kill me… I…”
“Kill you?” Eggman questioned, raising an eyebrow in astonishment, “Oh, my tentacled turncoat, your death will seem like a relief once I’m through with you! It’s been so long since I’ve been really able to let loose on a pest such as you!” Eggman swatted the air in frustration as he turned away from the octopus. “Bah, Sonic and his foolish friends always have to make things difficult for a genius like myself to terrorize people. I can barely get started before some impetuous interruption draws my attention elsewhere.”
“L-look, you’re a… reasonable man, right? Surely, w-we can come to some kind of arrangement?” Mimic desperately tried to bargain. Eggman looked back at the trembling octopus and sneered in disgust.
“Quit your begging, you sniveling cephalopod. The only arrangement I seek is payback for your incompetence!” bellowed the doctor, clicking the button again and smiling with satisfaction at the octopus’s cries of agony. Smoke was beginning to curl off of his body, skin peeling from the burns inflicted by the electrical torture. The acrid smell of his burning flesh began to fill his nostrils, causing his eyes to water.
After a few more moments of watching him spasm, Eggman again released the button. “Besides, what could you possibly offer me? You’ve proven yourself to be completely incompetent time and time again. You failed your mission to finish off the Diamond Cutters twice under my command. Then, you infiltrated the Restoration only to blunder again on the world stage!” Eggman cruelly chuckled as he towered over Mimic. “The only thing you’ve succeeded in doing so far was giving me a good laugh as I watched you plummet into the stands and slink away like the coward you were!” The doctor jabbed a finger into Mimic’s panting chest. “So really, what use are you?”
Mimic’s head dropped as he tried to come up with an answer. Lamentably, he had to admit that Eggman had a point. «Ever since that day, it’s been like… like I couldn’t rest until the mission was completed. The nightmares, the screw ups… it all comes back to the Diamond Cutters. Until she’s gone and that memory is behind me… what use am I to anyone? A professional isn’t supposed to have… hangups…»
Eggman chuckled as he scratched his chin in thought, “I mean, the only thing particularly special about you is that shape-shifting power of yours. But it’s not as if I can just siphon that power into my robots! That’d be… well…hmm...” Eggman glanced again at the Mobian with an eyebrow raised, an expression more akin to intense curiosity rather than malicious disgust. It was as if Mimic was a new species of insect an entomologist had just discovered infesting their food.
“Perhaps… give me a moment,” muttered the doctor as he tapped one of the golden buttons on his coat. “Orbot, Cubot! Prepare the Egg Tick in Cell #79 for insertion.”
“The prototype?” came Orbot’s unsure reply over the doctor’s comms, “But boss, didn’t you say it needed more testing before it could be deployed on Mobians?”
“Yeah, because there was a chance it could cause permanent brain damage!... Wait, isn’t that a good thing?” Cubot helpfully questioned.
“Nitwits! Do not question my orders!” barked Eggman, “just prepare the prototype!”
As the two minions affirmed Eggman’s command, the doctor sighed and turned his attention back towards the shaken octopus. “Well, it appears I’ve found a way to make you useful after all!” he declared with a grand smile. “Rejoice, you aggravating amphibian. Your torture will be not only excruciating, but also educational!”
Mimic balked in horror at the doctor’s flippancy. “B-but I’m helping you! I-I should be…” he hopelessly stuttered.
“Rewarded? Hahahahaha!!” Eggman cackled, leaning backwards as he let out a hearty laugh. After a few moments of uproarious laughter, Eggman finally wiped his brow and sighed. “Heh… Let me make things crystal clear for you, because it seems you still aren’t getting it.” He pointed the remote at the table, cranking up the dial on its side by a few notches.
“No! NO! Please have merc— AGGGGHHHHHHHHHHH!!!” Mimic let out an ear-shattering scream as the electricity returned in even greater force, the sharp buzz reaching a frenzied pitch as the voltage wracked the restrained Mobian’s body.
After a few seconds of excruciating pain, Eggman turned off the electricity and leaned down above the fried Mobian’s head. “Have I gotten your attention now, pest?” the doctor impatiently questioned.
Mimic’s breathing was raspy and uneven, and he blinked away the spots that danced in his vision. His flesh had sloughed off in droves as burns appeared all over his body, and his limbs were completely numb. All he could do was nod, tears streaming down his face.
“Good…” Eggman lowered his voice to a whisper as he stared into Mimic’s eyes. “Now, I want you to understand the nature of our arrangement. You are a failure, a defective product that rebelled against me when you failed to eliminate the Diamond Cutters. You are now nothing more than another cog in the great machine of the Eggman Empire. The only reason you still breathe is because I allow it. You will serve my Empire however I see fit. Is that clear?”
Mimic nodded numbly. “Good! So now we can get started,” Eggman announced as he straightened his posture. He pushed a button on his cufflink as he looked upward to the ceiling, watching as a panel shifted away to reveal some kind of robotic bug. It was a small device, about half the size of a Mobian’s head, with spindly limbs and two beady black eyes. Mimic stiffened as he noted the sharp spikes on each limb slowly lowering towards him.
“Meet the Egg Tick!” Eggman explained with glee, “A wonderful little device that gives me unparalleled access to the mind of a Mobian. It will allow me to study your… particular talents more closely.” The doctor’s eyes twinkled with malice. “It’s also equipped with a remote electrocution feature, should I deem it necessary to terminate you.”
“Oh, don’t worry!” added the doctor, noticing the Mobian’s apprehension, “The installation process will only take a matter of moments. It’s nearly painless!” Eggman chuckled a little. “Well, at least it should be. It is only a prototype after all.”
“Y-you won’t… get away with… this…” Mimic mumbled under his breath, his eyes squeezed shut as if he were praying.
“Hmm? Won’t I? And who is going to stop me?” Eggman asked, a smug look playing across his face. “You’re certainly in no condition to be making threats right now. And I don’t think there’s a single Mobian left on the planet who would want to rescue you! Not even Sonic would mind, and that pesky rodent would help anyone! Face it, you pathetic polypus, you have nothing left! Nyahahahaha!” the doctor madly cackled as he pressed again on his cufflink, causing the robot’s limbs to begin to converge on Mimic’s head.
There had to be something that he could cling to. Surely some forlorn hope that he could escape, right? If such a thing still existed, Mimic couldn’t think of it. All he could think of as he felt sharp metal begin to press into his skull was that final condemnation from his nightmare.
«I… deserve… this…»
Notes:
Now wasn't that an electrifying chapter? Guess Mimic has become an outlet for Eggman to express his frustrations... Quite the set of obstacles that he's been charged with, huh? I hope you guys are as amped as I am for what comes next!
(Oh, and before I forget, here's the full list of ages for everyone that I promised last chapter.)
Cream: 8
Charmy: 9
Tails: 12
Kit: 13*
Slinger: 16
Amy: 17
Silver: 18
Tangle: 19
Blaze: 19
Jewel: 20
Whisper: 20
Shadow: 20*
Sonic: 20
Surge: 21*
Knuckles: 21
Claire: 21
Espio: 21
Smithy: 24
Vector: 24
Lanolin: 25
Rouge: 26
Vanilla: 30
Mimic: 32
Eggman: 48
Clutch: 56
*Equivalent Maturity, not chronological age (Since they’re lab experiments)
Chapter 8: Shifting Gears
Notes:
At long last, I have returned with a new chapter! It's the longest one so far, so hopefully that makes up for the... month and a half I was gone... ;(
I would say expect faster updates, but school is about to start sooooo y'know.
Anyways, hope you enjoy!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
As a new dawn graced the skyline of Central City, a crackle of electricity rang out along the city’s main highway. A streak of mean green energy raced through the metropolis, diving and weaving between lanes of morning traffic like a bolt of lightning. Surge grinned arrogantly as she bounced from car to car, leaving a cacophony of annoyed drivers in her wake.
Eventually, she skidded to a halt and looked back, only to see her competition lagging behind. “C’mon, slowpokes! Can’t you at least try to make it a close race?!” she shouted at the moving specks in the distance. She tapped her foot impatiently as she waited for the rest of the Diamond Cutters to close the gap. «Yeesh, you’d think being buddy-buddies with Sonic would give them a fighting chance!»
Just then, she heard a whoosh of air, and was stunned to see a silver blur flying past her. «Wha— was that Psycho? Who woulda known that clumsy dork could move that fast?!» Her surprise quickly morphed into excitement as she dashed after him. Surprisingly, she found it rather challenging to catch up with the psychic hedgehog. Although he didn’t have the same raw speed that Surge possessed, his flight meant he could keep a steady pace in the air without needing to dodge incoming traffic. As a result, it took Surge almost half a minute to close the gap enough to get within earshot of him.
“Hey, Psycho!” she called out, “Glad to see at least someone here’s got a little speed!”
Silver looked back with an innocent smile and a wave. “Hey, thanks! I’ve done a few races with Sonic before, so I’m used to this sort of thing!”
Surge sneered at the mention of the blue blur. “Oh yeah? Betcha you’ll be eating my dust once I get serious!”
“Well, I ate breakfast, so I’m not feeling hungry right now!” Silver earnestly replied, ducking under an incoming sign and cruising back up to a comfortable height.
“What are you, five?” Surge snorted, stopping as she landed on a cargo truck and looked back at him, “That’s gotta be the lamest comeback I’ve ever heard, Psycho.”
“Oh… Uh, wait, I can come up with something better…” He furrowed his brow in thought for a few moments. “How about… The only thing I’ll be tasting… is victory?”
Surge raised a judging eyebrow at him as she began to spin into a dash. “Are you asking or telling me? Cuz from where I’m standing, I don’t think you’ve got the stomach for competition!”
At that moment, she leapt off the truck with the force of a rocket, shattering the sound barrier with a loud boom as she left Silver to contemplate his lackluster trash-talk. «At least Sonic knows how to banter…» Surge chuckled to herself as she raced along the now ascending highway. The rest of the city was now visible below, the morning sunlight reflecting warm light off the skyscrapers in the downtown area.
Reaching the zenith of her ascent, Surge’s eyes sparked with recognition as she spotted the office of Clean Sweep at the base of the hill. “Heh, looks like it’s time to take my victory lap!” she remarked as she looked around for an opportunity to showboat. She grinned from ear to ear as she spotted a well-position ramp pointed right towards her destination. Spinning into a Super Peel Out, she steered towards the ramp and catapulted herself into the sky, cackling with glee as her momentum propelled her through the air. “HAHAHA!! WHO’S FLYIN’ NOW, SUCKA?!” she exclaimed as she hurtled through the city like a comet.
With the ground accelerating towards her, she spun into a drop-dash moments before she splattered face-first into the pavement. Her heels found purchase on the asphalt, and with a triumphant whoop she sped down the highway with the momentum of a bullet train. Surge looked over her shoulder and smirked as she realized Silver had been reduced to a mere floating dot in the distance. “Heh, bet he didn’t expect me to do that!” Surge gloated, watching him slowly descend after her, “Heck, I bet not even Sonic could pull off that stunt withou–”
KLANG!
When Surge opened her eyes again, she found herself sprawled out on the pavement, a stinging pain lingering on her forehead. She blinked dumbly as she wiped her brow and gaped at the streak of blood that appeared on her glove. Sitting up and looking around, the tenrec’s confusion quickly turned to embarrassment as she spotted an uprooted lamp post lying a few feet away from her, its metal stem bent at a rather awkward angle. “Oh… you’ve gotta be kidding me…” she muttered in mortified disbelief.
“Whoa! Are you alright?” Surge snapped out of her stupor and looked up to see a concerned Silver floating above her. “That looked like it hur–”
“I’m FINE!” Surge interrupted, scowling at the hedgehog as she dusted herself off. “Why’d you stop, Psycho? The race ain’t over yet!”
“U-uh, you sure? You’re still bleeding–”
Before he could finish, Surge was gone. Already she could feel her headache fading as her cybernetic healing factor worked to repair the damage. Unfortunately, her implants could do little to quell the swirling torrent of embarrassment growing inside of her; All she could do was keep moving, keeping her eyes firmly on the road this time.
A few moments later, she came to a screeching halt as the Clean Sweep office building finally came into view. The building had been engulfed in a sea of waving signs and raised fists, a protest rally taking place across the entire street. The office itself seemed oddly deserted: Even the security guards usually posted at the entrance were nowhere to be seen. If the protestors thought that no one was inside, they didn’t seem to care. A few Mobians stood on pedestals in front of the crowd, chanting slogans through handheld megaphones.
“What do we do with lying cheats?!”
“SWEEP THEM ALL OFF OUR STREETS!”
“And what do we know about Clean Sweep?!”
“WE KNOW YOU’RE A BUNCH OF CREEPS!”
“Well… that’s new,” Surge observed. The tenrec was unusually despondent, considering she had just won a race against the rest of the Diamond Cutters. Normally, the thought would have filled her with arrogant pride, but right now all she could think about was her embarrassing fumble. «Urgh… Next time, keep a frickin’ eye on the road! It’s a good thing the rest of ’em weren’t around, or else I’d—»
The sound of rushing air snapped Surge out of her internal scolding. Plastering a cocky grin on her face, she turned to see Silver touching down beside her. “Guess you’re destined for second place with a name like yours, eh Psycho?” she bantered, acting as if nothing had happened.
Silver chuckled nervously, rubbing his neck as he watched the tenrec carefully. “You uh… sure you’re alright?” he asked again.
Surge rolled her eyes in annoyance. «Can’t this idiot take a damn hint?»
“I’m fine, Dorkupine. Anyone ever tell you that you worry too much?”
Silver’s expression relaxed at the tenrec’s assurance. “Well… alright, so long as you’re sure.” His gaze turned towards the crowd, and Surge breathed a quiet sigh of relief.
“Anyways… looks like we’ll be having an audience for when we bust these creeps!” Surge gestured proudly towards the protest.
“Yeah…” Silver muttered, his expression turning somber. “There’s… a lot of people here. I didn’t realize so many people would be so mad. I-I mean, I know that Clean Sweep was a big company! But still…”
Surge wasn’t exactly surprised herself. Clutch had built his criminal empire under the guise of rebuilding communities destroyed by Eggman’s attacks. People had earnestly considered Clean Sweep a viable alternative to the Restoration, up until Clutch’s true intentions were revealed.
“All the more reason for us to take them down,” Surge shrugged, “They’re all just fakers, taking advantage of other people by duping ‘em into thinking they’re the good guys. They deserve what’s coming to them.“
Silver nodded, although there was a curious shift in his expression that Surge couldn’t quite place. He opened his mouth to say something, but before he got the chance, Kit finally arrived at the scene. The fennec waved enthusiastically to Surge as he lowered himself to the ground, his watery tentacles retreating back into his hydro pack. “You were so fast, ma’am!” he exclaimed in awe.
Surge tussled the fennec’s hair with a chuckle. “Yeah, yeah… left you slowpokes in the dust! It was so easy I coulda done it blindfolded!” she postured, although she spared a quick glance back at Silver to make sure the hedgehog wasn’t paying attention.
Following close behind Kit was Tangle, whose normally bouncy candor had been reduced to an exhausted shuffle as she flopped onto a nearby bench. “Haahh…” Tangle huffed as she tried to catch her breath, “That was… a lot… of cardio…”
“Got in a good workout, Twinkletoes?” Surge zipped forward and leaned on the bench beside her, pretending to examine her nails with a smug smirk on her face.
“Ooh yeah…” Tangle sat up, using her tail to mop sweat off of her brow and then wringing it out using her hands. “It gets me all pumped up for taking down bad guys!”
”Right…” Surge furrowed her brow and glanced around, noticing that one member was still missing. “And uh, where’s Squinty?”
“Oh! She said she was doing some scouting… up there!” Tangle pointed up to a masked figure standing atop a nearby roof. Surge rolled her eyes and shouted, “HEY SQUINTY, GET YOUR BUTT DOWN HERE!”
The masked Diamond Cutter looked towards Surge and paused for a few moments, as if contemplating whether to ignore the speedster’s hail. Eventually, with a flash of green energy, she engaged Hover Mode on her Wispon and began to float to the ground, landing right next to the impatient tenrec. “Use your radio, it’s there for a reason,” she muttered, removing her mask to reveal an unamused expression underneath.
Surge gave her a cheeky smile. “Yeah, but yelling’s more fun. Anyway, what’s the game plan, Squinty?”
“…The office looks closed to the public. No guards at the entrance and the main doors are barred. We’ll need to find another way in.” she reported.
“Wait, why can’t we just kick down the front door?” Surge questioned, “Can’t be that hard to blast our way through—“
“If you do that, this protest turns into a riot,” Whisper interrupted, “Mimic would thrive in that environment. He could use the crowd to escape or ambush us, and we’ll be too busy sorting through protestors to stop him.”
Surge narrowed her eyes in annoyance as she crossed her arms. “Seriously? I’m pretty sure we can handle whatever Tentacles can throw at us. Besides, it’s not like he’s outrunning me.”
“And if he takes a hostage from the crowd? What then?” Whisper countered. “Or do you think you can run faster than he can slit someone’s throat?”
An awkward silence fell between them, until Surge finally conceded, “… Fine, we won’t go through the front door. Any other bright ideas?”
“Well, we could always get onto the roof and go in from the top, right?” Silver offered, “I should be able to lift everyone up with my powers.”
Tangle clapped excitedly at the idea. “Ooh, that’ll be fun! I’ve always loved flying through the sky~!”
«Yeah, just watch out for lamp posts…» Surge winced, absently rubbing her forehead.
“Once we’re in, we’ll need to secure the building quickly,” Whisper explained as she turned to Kit. “Focus on hacking into the building’s cameras. They’ll give us a big edge in locating Mimic if he’s hiding inside.”
Surge‘s expression brightened as she put her arm around the fennec. “Well, don’t worry about that. Drippy here’s an expert at hacking, right?” Kit nodded vigorously, eager to meet her expectations.
“Should we split up to cover more ground?” Tangle chimed in, “I know it might be risky if Mimic’s around, but two groups should be fine.”
“Good call,” Whisper agreed, “You and Surge will be with me, while Kit and Silver will hunt for the computer room. Worst case scenario, use your radios to call for backup…”
Surge tuned out Whisper for a moment as she noticed Kit’s mood had fallen drastically. «What in Gaia has gotten him so down?» she wondered, tapping him on the shoulder and giving him a questioning look.
“They’re separating us…” he whispered warily to her, “Do you think they still don’t trust us?”
Surge gave a half-hearted shrug to ease her partner’s concerns. “Yeah, I’m not happy with being a stooge in Squinty’s group either,” she admitted to him, “But we gotta listen to ‘em for now. And remember, you’ll always be my partner, Drippy. Nothing’s gonna stand between us, ya hear me?”
Kit reluctantly nodded, murmuring a hushed “Yes, Ma’am” to her before the two both turned back to the group. “Alright, enough yapping!” Surge announced, “Let’s get to busting these chumps.”
Whisper nodded and turned towards Silver, who began to channel his psychic powers. “Alright everyone, this should only take a moment…” he said as he stuck out his hands, causing bubbles of glowing white energy to form around each of the Diamond Cutters.
A few seconds later, Surge was floating her way up to the roof of Clean Sweep’s office. A few protestors noticed them hovering above: some cheered as they recognized some of their members, while others stared bewilderedly at the sight of five Mobians being lifted through the air through telekinesis.
The roof itself was utterly barren aside from a locked access hatch, quickly dispatched through a burst of psychokinetic force. The team dropped into the far end of a dimly lit hallway, with just a few rays of sunshine peaking past shuttered windows and closed doors. Behind them was a staircase and a light switch, which Tangle flicked using her tail to turn on the lights.
The sight was somewhat familiar to Surge at this point. While she and Kit were working for Clutch, he had often summoned the pair to his office so that he could be informed about the Restoration’s movements. But it was strange to see the space so lifeless, without clumsy interns carrying mountains of paperwork or some knuckle-headed security guard laughing at a stupid joke. Nothing stirred as the lights came on, but Surge still watched the hall like a hawk for any sign of the shapeshifting saboteur they were hunting.
“Huh… the place sure looks abandoned to me,” the lemur commented as she looked around. She took a glance at Silver and added, “Might wanna move quickly though, just in case there’s some kind of silent alarm.”
Silver nodded and pushed open the door to the staircase behind, followed by Kit as they headed downstairs in search for a way to access the cameras. As the door slammed shut, Whisper gestured for the two remaining Diamond Cutters to follow her.
They made their way down the hall cautiously, pausing at each door while Whisper quietly swept the room with her Wispon. It took a few minutes for them to finally reach Clutch’s office, only to find the door locked. “... Silver’s not here to do this quietly, so I’ll use Blue to–” Whisper began, only to be interrupted by Surge’s boot slamming into the door and tearing it clean off the hinges.
“What are you doing?!” Whisper hissed as the tenrec stepped inside and admired her handiwork on the floor.
“You were taking too long, Squinty,” Surge dismissed.
Unlike the normal office spaces behind them, Clutch’s main office was rather ostentatious. The floor was covered in expensive carpet, an executive desk made of finely polished wood and granite dominating the center of the room. A jet-black chair, sporting fluffy white cushions and all sorts of adjustable buttons, stood behind the desk. Leaning against the wall was an expansive bookshelf, alongside all sorts of displayed trophies: Surge spotted a case of fine wine that Clutch would sometimes drink while she gave her reports, while Tangle whistled as she marveled at a collection of precious gems. “Man… Clutch might be a crooked fraudster, but you have to admit he’s got taste,” she commented.
“Not the point right now,” Whisper sighed exasperatedly as she lowered her Wispon. “Looks like Mimic’s not on this floor.”
“Heh, there might not be an octopus around here,” Surge remarked as she moved towards the bookshelf, “but that doesn’t mean we can’t score a big one.” She grabbed a handful of books from the bottom shelf, revealing a hidden safe inside.
“Whoa, good find!” Tangle exclaimed, “how’d you guess that was there?”
“Uh… guess I’m just lucky, heh…” Surge lied. In truth, Kit had spotted it during one of their meetings after noticing that the books in that section were the only ones that ever seemed to move between visits.
Whisper didn’t seem to buy the excuse. “... You’ve been here before,” she stated matter-of-factly, her expression darkening as she tightened her grip on her Wispon.
«Crap.» Surge tensed as she scrambled to think of a response. Technically, the Restoration had no idea about the full extent of her involvement with Clutch. The only evidence they had was her vague admission about “destroying the Phantom Rider” under Clutch’s orders. Perhaps if Restoration HQ hadn’t been reduced to a flaming pile of debris, her role in sabotaging the race and conspiring against the Restoration would have been discovered. As things stood, after an informal talk with Jewel about ”second chances”, the whole affair had been quietly swept under the rug.
And Surge had been eager to go along with it. After all, how would Whisper have reacted if she knew that the only reason they had initially joined the Diamond Cutters was to destroy them. «Of course, now that I’m actually trying to help, that’s when I get caught! Great!» Surge cursed to herself as she considered whether or not to come clean. The memory of yesterday’s freakout, when Whisper discovered her conversation with Duo, was still fresh in her mind. Would this be the last straw for the vengeful wolf?
Before things could escalate any further, Tangle cleared her throat and put a hand on Whisper’s shoulder. “Whisper… remember what we talked about before?” she said softly.
Whisper stood as still as a statue, her enigmatic gaze not budging from Surge for what felt like an eternity. Eventually though, something in her expression softened. She relaxed her posture as she held out a hand towards Surge. “... I’m sorry. I did not mean to accuse you of being… well, it’s in the past now, so long as you truly mean to help us.”
Surge’s mouth gaped in surprise as she processed the fact that Whisper was apologizing to her. “Oh, uh… Y-Yeah, of course! Like I said, we’re on your side now…” she stammered out, still in disbelief that Whisper wasn’t about to try and blast her. It took her another moment to grab onto the wolf’s outstretched hand, and the two performed an awkward handshake before pulling away again.
“Yay, friends!” Tangle cheered, “Now, how’s about we open this safe that Surge uncovered for us?”
Whisper shook herself from her stupor and approached the safe. “... Leave it to me,” she said, giving Tangle a small smile as she gripped her Wispon by the barrel. As she gave the weapon a twirl, a blue burst of energy transferred from her cloak into it, causing a large hammer to form around on the rounded end. She swung the hammer down onto the safe with a satisfying crack, leaving its exterior a warped mess.
“...Not bad, Squinty,” Surge chuckled, a genuine smile beginning to form on her face. Whisper looked up and gave her a subtle nod in return, before beginning to peel back the bent metal in order to free whatever was inside.
Tangle bounded her way over to Surge, smiling from ear to ear. “Keep up the good work, Surge,” she warmly remarked, “she’ll come around on you eventually.”
“Heh…” Surge huffed lightheartedly, “Well, as long as I keep trying, eh?”
Suddenly, Kit’s voice came through on the radio. “Ma’am? Can you hear me?” it barked softly.
Surge grabbed her walkie talkie and raised the volume so that everyone in the room could listen in. “Yeah, I hear ya. What’s up?”
“Well Ma’am, I was able to get access to the cameras, and I’m pretty sure Mimic’s not here.”
Surge paused for a moment. “You sure? Maybe Tentacles could avoid the cameras if he wanted to stay hidden.”
“T-That’s possible too Ma’am! It’s just that…” Kit’s voice trailed off.
“What?”
“Well, Ma’am… You remember the footage from the hotel last night?”
Surge’s eyes widened with recognition as she remembered exactly what Kit was referring to. Last night, Kit had managed to look through the cameras and found that Mimic had left early in the morning under a new disguise: a middle-aged rooster wearing a work cap. “Are you telling me you saw the rooster?”
“Yes Ma’am! At 7:50 in the morning yesterday, he came in through the front door and spoke with the receptionist for a few minutes, and then he left!” Kit excitedly explained.
“And you’re sure he hasn’t been back since?” Surge questioned.
“Ma’am, unless he switched disguises or is very good at hiding from cameras, he’s not been back since,” Kit answered confidently.
“... Alright, good work Drippy.” Surge holstered her walkie talkie back as she turned back towards Tangle, her mind swirling with questions.
“So… hold on,” Tangle hesitated, “Mimic shows up at the front desk, talks for a few minutes, and then just… leaves?”
“Seems like it, Sunshine,” Surge confirmed.
“Well, that’s… promising, right? That means Clutch and Mimic are probably collaborating!... Or it would mean that, if Clutch wasn’t still MIA from being kidnapped by Eggman at the Sweepstakes. Man, there’s too many possibilities…” Tangle groaned. She spared a glance at Whisper, who was currently inspecting the safe’s battered remains. “Find any clues, Whisper?” she asked hopefully.
The wolf snatched a red envelope out of the twisted metal, carefully tearing it open to reveal a letter inside. But as she opened the letter, Surge noticed Whisper’s teeth clench and her eyes narrow. Her posture grew stiff as she read, until she dropped the paper onto Clutch’s desk out of disgust.
“... We have a lead,” Whisper growled as she stabbed the page with her finger, drawing the gaze of the other two Diamond Cutters to the page. Surge’s eyes widened as she spotted a familiar red symbol printed at the bottom of the page.
It was as if the Doctor’s eerie grin was taunting them.
«…Looks like things just got a whole lot more interesting.»
Notes:
Believe me when I say that I've spent way too long thinking about the political and economic incentives of criminal organizations in a story that's supposed to be centered around one evil octopus. I've also spent way too long figuring out what the hell Surge's and Kit's deals are in IDW's canon, because honestly, I don't think even the writers know what to do with Kit's... like, half-villain arc that's based around Surge's half-hero arc. Did I succeed? I suppose I'll let you all be the judge of that as we continue along with this tale...
Edit: Changed the ending a bit here so that it makes more sense and also flows better into the next chapter.
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