A particle, trapped.

A Sonic SatAM fic by MistressAli

All characters and locations ( c ) DIC, Sega, Archie, and probably others who aren't me.

A/N:

Alright, this isn't exactly a 'story' persay...

It was inspired by a couple of VAST songs, and I really only had some feelings and imagery to go by...but I really wanted to write it out. So, this pointless, boring little thing was born.

I DO have some ideas for a part 2, but whether or not it'll happen I dunno!

Anyway, enjoy (?) reading this verbal diarrhea... hoohaa haw.

Oh yeah, and there's some sexual undertones in this... so OHNOES watch yo'self!

(And if you'd like to listen to my songs o' inspiration, check 'em out:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0eq80h3YEUA A damn fine video as well.)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Rp2QgYS-48k 'My TV and You.')

'where do i put the shame,

it feels like a broken toy i can't play with anymore.

Where do i put the hate to a pixelated screen i can't watch anymore.

All i know is that i'm here,

drifting somewhere in the vast,

somewhere in eternity, and i never want to leave.'

(where do i put the love...?)

--Vast 'Here'

'my tv and you, it's the only place to be,

nothing else to do, nothing else to see

a room without a view, not so much for me and you.

I was born to stare at stars on ceiling walls,

it's all i need

it's all i've ever needed, until the world is gone

...

it's all i need, it's all i ever needed,

my love for life is gone.'

---Vast ' my tv and you.'

'A particle, trapped.'

The skies were black, maybe navy blue. Robotropolis had no stars. But Snively, awakening from nodding off at his evening post, knew the night was still upon him. The daytime skies were gray.

Monitors showed empty streets. He blinked. His eyes were bloodshot, a firework of red veins over the white. Cold coffee lay low in his mug, swirling over the dark grains. He scrunched his nose, moved his gaze to the small screen before him.

.Robotropolis Roboticized Citizens Database.

Today's entry:

mercury the fox

age: 22

sex: male

status: workerbot in swatbot repair facility #5

A database of souls. Lives neatly summarized like stats on a baseball card. Each containing three photos, two of the face, one of the body. Sometimes a robot had to hold them still for the body shot. They were defiant, wiggling, struggling. Or injured, broken legs buckling under them as they were thrust to their feet.

Mercury could stand just fine, though, and he'd made the most of his ability to talk.

*

Snively had been bored. He went down to process the furball earlier that day.

“Hey. Who sent the albino skinbag, huh? What the hell you gonna do to me?”

“The same thing we always do. Turn your pretty fur coat into cold hard metal.”

“Creative. Ever think of somethin' new?”

“You wouldn't want to be around for that.” Snively wasn't about to enlighten him. There were things worse than roboticization. Or perhaps not. Eternal slavery was high on the 'shit happens' list.

He took the Mobian's stats. Mercury willingly gave his name and his age, and seemed to not mind so much that he was stuck here with Snively. He shot weird insults Snively's way, spiced with the occasional attempt at small talk. 'An' how old are you? How long you been in this place? Why exactly you need to know all this stuff?'

“I don't need to know it,” Snively rolled his eyes and reached out for the nearby digital camera. “This is all Robotnik's protocol.”

The fox's eyes were on the camera, and the first expression of fear came onto his face. “Hey...asshole! What are you doing? You ain't taking my picture, eh? I ain't never had my picture taken in my life. Mama taught me well.” He jerked his head about; the SWAT guard had to restrain him.

“I am indeed,” Snively said, and looked through the viewfinder on the camera's back. Nice and square, put that Mobian's jaw-flappin' face right dead center.

“NO!”

“Aw. Camera-shy?” Snively snapped the shutter. Click-snap. The guy's stupid visage immortalized in pixels.

“You stupid bag of bones! You ain't never been taught nothin'! Photos steal parts of your soul!” He struggled hard, his hand clawing out towards the camera.

“Profile shot,” Snively said, and the SWAT forcefully turned the fox's head to the side. Click-snap.

“NO! Erase it. Give me back my pieces,” Mercury cried, and his voice held a disgusting, pleading undertone.

Snively scoffed, setting the camera down. “I don't think so... but don't fret. You won't have to worry about such ridiculous notions in a moment.”

He nodded his head at the bots. There was something that really stole souls here, and Mercury was dragged over to the roboticizer. He struggled and pleaded, but it wasn't to avoid entering the glass tube. His eyes were on the camera the entire time. When the tube came down, effectively trapping him, his fear spilled into rage.

You think you can take parts of me?!” He cracked a fist against the tube's side, skin splitting over the knuckles, leaving red smears on the glass. “Give it back!”

Snively stared at the blood, scrunched his nose. Yuck. He paced the control panel, waiting for another outburst. The fox muttered to himself; the show was apparently over. Snively fired up the ole robot maker, feeling the power cores warming up under the floor's metal paneling. The lights flickered.

Mercury punched the glass again, and yelled. Incoherent shit. “Souls! Particles... light! Give it back!”

“Shut up, already!”

The roboticizer beam came down, green and glittering. Mercury's mouth didn't stop until his tongue turned to steel.

Snively rubbed his temples. He didn't know why he was here. The Fat Ass was away, gone searching for treasure, promises of power. The usual bullshit, but at least he hadn't dragged his nephew along. The city was his, for a few days, and he should be kicking back in Robotnik's jacuzzi, chugging cold glasses of spiced rum.

**

He'd gone as far as fetching the rum, but he couldn't shake the feeling of being watched by Big Uncle. He'd brought his afternoon treat to the control room instead.

Half a bottle later, he'd fallen asleep sprawled in the throne. Good sleep, empty sleep.

And now he was awake, in the late night of Robotropolis. The city was void of life. SWATs circled on their endless patrols...and he was bored.

He stared at Mercury's photo. The fox's profile shot was in mid-blink. Hooded eyes... a nonchalance that hadn't been present in the real-life specimen.

'particles...light.'

Rubbish.

He closed Mercury's file. Robotnik probably wouldn't look at it. It was just another soul in his collection. A low-level soul, nothing special. Not like the Freedom Fighters. Not like...

He pulled up her picture.

A girl with hair of windblown auburn, willow-branch limbs, and the eyes: royal blue, for a royal bitch.

They didn't have many pictures of Sally or her band of fools. Not much footage either.

'We should keep this. Study them, and their techniques.' Snively had suggested once upon a time, as Robotnik replayed footage of Sonic and CO.

“I don't need to study them, Snively!” The air reverberated with an indignant Robotnik roar. A fat hand slap-slapped one cheek, then the other. Snively had staggered. “Next time they come, they'll be mine!”

Snively hadn't suggested it again. Robotnik had been saying that for three years now.

Oh Sally. Snively leaned forward to study her pixelated visage. The forest princess with a hacker's mind. She was such an inspiration.

He sneered. An inspiration for many late night wrist-tiring activities.

Snively didn't like this picture of her. Her eyes were too bulgy, her mouth agape in a yell. She'd been caught by surprise.

Particles... light and setting. How could a photo turn something beautiful into an awkward, ugly thing?

'Seeing the other side of things... the things you never could before...?'

It captured particles of her ineptitude, her clumsiness, her doubt. Maybe he liked the photo after all. It was a monument to the imperfection she'd never admit.

Lightwaves and images – they reminded him of last year....

Robotnik had been intrigued with Virtual Reality technology. He'd used it in a remote-piloted vehicle called the Shriekbot. Putting his fat head in the VR helmet, piloting it from the comfort of his throne. But Robotnik was a shit pilot either way. The Shriekbot had crashed and burned.

It was Sonic's fault, for being there to chase. It was Snively's fault for not making the Shreikbot faster. It did tend to move slowly after crashing head-on into a wall.

That failure didn't stop Robotnik from playing with the VR. He'd go off to his lab alone with it, doing who-knows-what. Probably homoerotic VR fantasies with Sonic. He'd also incorporated it into interrogations a few times, but his interest soon dwindled. The trauma inflicted by VR torture wasn't nearly painful, nor permanent enough for the Sadique de Robotropolis.

Snively had salvaged the abandoned VR unit and snuck it into his own lab. He plugged in a lengthy scenario and fed the unit all the images of Sally he could scrounge up.

VR Sally was less fierce and less pompous. And she had a big lusty fetish for Overlanders, or so she whispered huskily into his VR ear. Oh, he couldn't deny he wasn't satisfied in the end – he came out of that scenario feeling rather... sticky. But she wasn't right... she was too willing, too fake... too NOT Sally. Too much of her psyche influenced by himself. But it was a step up from simply fantasizing in his head.

The next time he conjured her up, he wasn't so lucky... and he didn't -get- lucky. Uncle just -had- to venture into his lab that day, and he quickly figured out what was transpiring.

There was the usual beating, threats of penile removal, and smashing of the VR unit. Snively hated when that happened.

Not that rebuilding it was difficult for a genius like him...

Snively sat up straight. He was the only one sitting in Fatty's throne these past few days. No one was around to stop him from getting out the old pleasure unit tonight.

'Particles...' Trapped in photos...in footage? He stared at Sally's eyes, her gaping mouth. What if he used surveillance footage in the VR... immersed himself in past events? Wouldn't more particles be trapped in film than in a photo?

'What are you talking about? Particles DON'T get trapped. Quit thinking about that stupid Mobian and his psycho-babble!'

'I'm not,' he retorted. 'Just an excuse to meet up with Her Virtual Highness again.'

His fingers flew over the keys. When were they here last? Two days ago, three. It shouldn't be purged from the system yet. There it was. The Freedom Fighters captured by Spy Eye, skulking about the water refinery. They seemed to be merely scoping out the place, for they'd left without doing damage. Snively hadn't bothered to tell Robotnik. An omission a day kept the infirmary away.

He downloaded the footage to a zip disk and made his way down to his laboratory. Elevators and walls, metal floors blurred together. He was tired, but strangely aware. The buzz of track lighting and echo of his footsteps reminded him of how alone he was. He flipped the disk between his fingers. Not for long though...

In the lab, he took out the VR unit, plugging the zip disk into the data slot. He entered his desired specifics into the unit's keypad. Scenario direct from footage. Keep it pure, keep it uninfluenced.

He took up the VR helmet. Go time. GO.

He flicked the unit's switch on.

In the blackness of the helmet, a tiny spark of light appeared. Another, another, like a rush of static. 'A starfield,' he thought idly.

And then, ground came rushing up to him, like waves creeping onto a shore. It slid under his feet, sky slid into place above him... and the dirty walls of buildings dropped down. He could feel the foul air of Robotropolis tickling his nose. He stretched out his hand. The breeze played over it.

He squinted, looking about. Just as the Spy Eye had been, he found himself behind the meddling Freedom Fighters. They were moving up a side street ahead of him, and he followed.

He kept his eyes on Sally. The fine sway of her hips as she walked, her tail a fluffy curl of fur over a perfect ass. He felt like a ghost. No matter how closely he followed, she never seemed to hear him. She talked to Sonic in her bossy, overbearing tone, but Snively couldn't be bothered to listen. This was already better than before. She seemed more tangible, so much more beautiful. Her voice was hers, her stride, the poise of her body... it was pure.

When the group paused, he crept close to her, close enough to press his nose into her hair. She didn't move when he gripped her arm, or when he slipped his leg between hers. Her head tilted towards Sonic. He could feel his groin pressing against the firm muscle of her thigh.

He watched her lips moving as she talked. Her tongue, within the walls of her teeth, forming syllables. The curve of her eyelashes as she blinked, eyeballs turned away, then back. He couldn't smell her, but he could imagine it. Something like a forest, sweet oil, something exquisitely female.

His breathing was heavy and harsh. He wanted to kiss her, but she looked away. He jolted up to his toes, and then down again, up, down... the friction of her leg against him was maddening.

“Hey, what's that?” Sonic said, and Sally stepped away so abruptly that Snively stumbled. She turned towards him and glared fiercely.

Cheeks flushed, he glowered at the both of them, caught as he was in the act. He cycled through a dozen cutting responses, but he was spared.

“Spy Eye. Them sneaky things...” Sonic zipped behind the camera, and before it could sight him again, he'd smashed the Spy Eye onto the ground. The visual seemed to shatter, cutting light and darkness into Snively's optic nerves. He screeched and tore the helmet from his head, throwing it on the worktable beside him. The sight of his cold, sterile lab jolted through him like an electric shock. He could still feel her body...

As in the VR, he was panting here in the real world, plagued by all the same lustful afflictions. He glared down the length of his skinny body. Maybe everything he did here was out of some shitty sexual frustration... maybe every soul he ripped apart-

Oh shut up.

Enough with the psycho-analysis. He wanted her, sure, but how many girls had he roboticized and not spared a glance at their chests, their asses? Plenty.

He glanced, blurry-eyed, to the clock. 3 AM. He was alone again tomorrow, and he intended to make the most of his chance to sleep in.

--

The owner of the body wanted to sleep long. 12 pm? 2 or 3? Sure. But the body kept waking him, in jolting intervals. Internal alarms blaring, warning him of the beatings he would suffer. Alarms that wouldn't listen to logic. Bodies could be so stupid sometimes.

So, 9:30 AM, still late by normal standards, Snively stepped over the threshold of the Command room, getting one foot in before the alarm went off. He recognized the tone of it instantly. Freedom Fighter sighting. And he knew where they were. The water refinery.

His body was hyper-sensitive to alarms. It responded to internal, and external ones with the same mindless efficiency. His survival depended on it. He was at his surveillance station in a flash, putting on his headset, contacting the outdoor SWAT patrols. His fingers had already typed in the city sector code to route Spy Eyes there.

A SWAT commander answered his ping.

His eyes wandered, inexplicably, to what lay on a computer screen a few steps away. He'd never shut down the files last night. Sally Acorn, with her bulging, caught-me-red-handed eyes, glared at him accusingly.

'I know what you did last night.'

“Sir?” The SWAT's voice was tinny in his ear.

Sally's image threw light into the dim interior of the room. There weren't any lights in here. The computer screens provided that. No wonder he had eye-strain.

Light...

Memories of last night. What HAD he done? His mind... in a strange place...the booze talking, right? There was something about particles. The prisoner, Mercury, had wormed his way into Snively's thoughts something good.

Souls trapped in photos. He snorted a laugh. It was even more ridiculous in the dim light of day.

But...

“SWATbot, I want your troops to stand down. Do not attack, apprehend, or pursue the Freedom Fighters. Not EVEN Priority 1. You understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

He took off the headset and sent more Spy Eyes, fresh with additional instructions: Focus on Freedom Fighter: Code PR-2. The Princess's code. He wanted her from all angles. He wanted as much as possible.

'Steal as much as you can, boy.'

He stared up at the ceiling, the shifting patterns of light cast by rows of monitors. If souls...if everyone was just a bunch of particles... like pixels make up a picture...?

How was it captured? Was it contained in light? Could light be caged?

Maybe that's why everyone aged, died. They fell apart, pixel by pixel. Just left parts of themselves, everywhere.

The ceiling...covered in crawling ocean waves of light.

'This is weird shit, Snively.'

If only Mercury knew how much his stupid words stuck. Why, he should be honored. But Robotnik was the soul-collector. Snively didn't believe in that bullshit.

But if it were possible...

He wasn't going to pass on a chance to collect Sally, just to preserve his skeptical stance. No one would know but him.

The SpyEyes preformed beautifully. Shots of Sally rolled in. Close-ups and panoramics of her squeezing through narrow alleyways and vaulting over scrap in her way. She'd split off from Sonic and he could see her wrist-watch flashing. They were synchronizing again, the hedgehog and the squirrel. Timers on their watches counting down to some dramatic, destructive shit. He hoped it was a long countdown.

She was intent on her mission; she either didn't notice or didn't care about the eyes watching her. She was off to make a dent in Robotnik's regime. What a laugh.

The footage streamed in, live and fresh. He wondered if he could...

He quickly brought up techbot locations throughout the Command Building and pinged the one closest to his lab. When it answered, he gave it a simple errand: 'Would you be a dear and fetch something from my lab for me?'

Sally ran along the side of the refinery, where huge pipes pumped water from the bay into the building's cleaning facilities.

The techbot rolled in, and Snively turned to take the VR unit from its claw-like hands. It exited the room, though Snively was oblivious to that, his hands shaking slightly as he hooked the unit up to the surveillance computer.

'Get a grip.'

The surveillance footage was running through the VR unit now. He didn't know if it would work, but he jammed the helmet on his head. It was blinding dark inside. -Whoosh- whispered the blood in and out of his heart.

The unit took a while to project the image. It was a jolting, static-filled ride into the Virtual World. With footage constantly coming in, the unit had to work hard to keep updating the imagery. Snively found himself walking along the beach. Sally was far ahead, up by the water refinery's' wall. She was crouching, fiddling with something in her hands.

The sky flickered white, and Snively gasped. His eyes burned as the scene changed... he was suddenly standing right beside her, staring down at the top of her auburn head. She was playing with a tube of explosive, setting the charge.

“Little meddling bitch,” he snorted. If she heard him, he didn't know. He flickered out, reappearing at the corner of the building.

He was jumping from SpyEye to SpyEye! He jerked the helmet off, wincing at the sharp jab of pain in his brain. Hopping in and out of worlds gave him a headache, but it was a small price to pay. He hit a few keys, setting the unit to draw from only one SpyEye's feed.

When he got back to her, he was pleased to see they were close. They were walking side by side along the beach, like a pair of romantic lovers. He snickered at the notion.

His blood pumped harder. She had turned her head, staring right at him. Strands of her hair blew about, the light caught her eyes. He squinted hard, trying to see if her particles were flying away. No. He couldn't see shit.

He saw then, she was not looking at him, but -through- him. Her gaze was traveling the expanse of Robotropolis Bay.

“It takes a lot of heat, and filtration to get that shit drinkable,” Snively informed her. She reacted to this piece of fascinating information with the look of a zombie. All dead behind the eyes. His lip curled. The VR wasn't getting this right. Her eyes...they weren't like that...

'Or are you taking too much of her...?'

Too much? He hadn't gotten any at all. She glanced at the ticking numbers of her watch, and she didn't stop walking until she was a fair distance from the refinery.

He probably should be concerned about that. Were they going to blow his water supply sky-high? He'd be awfully thirsty. Good thing he had plenty of booze.

'Hey...” He almost bumped into her as she halted. She looked back at the distant refinery with a smirk.

“Why so quiet?” He was doing a lot of the talking. Some chaps liked that in a woman. Keep their mouths shut, their opinions in. But part of his turn-on with her... was her contempt. “Belittle me, Sally, tell me just how pathetic I am. It'll only make the moment when I put you in your place so much sweeter.”

“Come on...” She said, glaring through him. The edges of her hair wisped away into static. Waves crawled sluggishly onto land. Everything seemed jittery. Her features were sharp and clear, but the background a blur. The VR unit wasn't meant to handle a constantly-changing scenario. It was too much data. He knew it could shut down at any moment. He'd better hurry, he'd better reach out and take a skein of her hair in his hand.

He sniffed it. There were no smells here – The SpyEye didn't have olfactory sensors. He knew what it'd be like. Warm dusty fur, evergreens, and young, ripe girl. -Whoosh!- said his heart. It was pumping blood downwards at an alarming rate.

Sally shivered and tossed her head; her hair slipped from his hand. “C'mon, Sonic,” she muttered.

“Don't talk about him!” Stupid one-track bitch. He was sick of hearing that name, like the mantra of a hated god. He didn't subscribe to the religion of the All Mighty Blue One. He reclaimed the hair and gave it a hard, spiteful yank. Strands of red silk ripped out into his fist, and he clutched them covetingly, like a treasure.

She flinched, and backed up till her heels nearly touched the black, frothing water. A shiver went through him, and his mouth was very wet. Saliva equaled anticipation. She was looking right at him.

She knew he was there... did she? He didn't care. Her eyes were before him, and whether on him or -through- him didn't matter. He lunged forward, years of fantasizing culminating in a fierce kiss. He gripped her abused hair anew, his mouth crushed to hers.

'Own her, Snively,

throw her down to the sand and-'

'All in due time, my hasty mind.'

So...this was what it was like to touch her soul. And he didn't know if the fantasy or the reality was better, or if this was even the reality-

Cause, the funny thing was, she didn't react, no pushing or biting his tongue off.

'But you don't know how she'd react-'

The VR ran on influence, and it picked up on his, it made it real. If he thought her heart would be pounding, it was. Her claws dug into his arms, pin-pricking through to his skin. She jerked her head, and strands of her hair lashed into his face, sticking wetly to his lips. He spat and batted them away.

She stepped back, ankle-deep into the water. He didn't want any of that shit touching him. It was probably caustic enough to eat through his boot leather.

“C'mere...' He grabbed her slight wrist and tugged her to him. They were both bony, slender specimens, male to female bodies that slid perfectly together, curves to hollows.

'None of this namby-pamby-'

The bulge in his pants fit puzzle-piece-perfect into the space between her thighs. She looked away from him, her wrist squirming worm-like in his grasp.

'—unzip and stick it to her-

lift her up and pull her on, let her body weight sink her down-'

His eyes flitted to the water refinery. His mind was being eaten alive by sudden lust, pieces

particles

of his logic consumed. Chemicals overrode knowledge, physiology trumped psyche.

'Over on the refinery wall, slam her against it and take her-'

'But the refinery's going to blow up!' His logic called. It had to shout to be heard over his harsh breaths. His hand clenched on a handful of Sally tit and a whimper escaped her mouth. What sweet music -

'That's in reality.'

Out on the real beach, Sally was impatiently waiting for Sonic. In reality, she'd be knocking Snively on his ass if he dared to touch her. Or would she...?

'Don't... don't turn it fake.'

He fumbled with her hand, forced her to drag it up his thigh and onto his groin. She looked him dead in the eye. “No, Snively. Don't.”

He pressed her hand harder, everything was harder – his breathing, his heartbeat, his flesh... and his despair deeper. She wouldn't act this way. This wasn't her soul – it was his. He knew it, he knew he'd ruined it. He let go of her hand, feeling each finger slip over his palm, leaving his skin tingling.

A sudden gush of air rushed over. He looked up to be dazzled with snow... no, it was white sheets of static enveloping him. Like being hit by ocean waves, he was rocked off balance, losing grip on her. He fell to the sand, a rock gouged into his thigh.

She was awash in glittering air. Her hair was fizzing out, turning to pixels. She looked down at him, her eyes a blooming blur of blue. Pretty face fragmenting, shifting side to side like a bad video reception.

“What the fuck-”

Next to Sally, the hedgehog came to a stop, a red foot tipped upwards, his typical cocky grin in place. He'd screwed up the reception, and Snively felt hate as black as raw coffee rise up.

Pixels turned dark, oozed together, they all melted across his vision in gobs of putrid color. He huffed in pain – this was killing his optic nerves – he ripped the helmet off and folded his torso over his knees.

“It's about time you got here,” Sally's voice griped from the speaker on the surveillance panel. “There's 30 seconds until-”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” Sonic cut her off. Snively could tell he was still grinning. He stayed hunched over, catching his breath. His brain ached inside his skull.

“What's with all the cams, Sal?”

“I don't know. He hasn't sent any reinforcements. I've been watching.”

“Whatevs. Maybe he's catching some Z's.”

Snively pulled himself upright, slumping back into the chair. The refinery rumbled in the background behind squirrel and hedgehog. Its row of square windows shattered, belching smoke outward.

“Come on,” Sally said, tugging Sonic's arm. They put distance between themselves and the bay, the soon-to-be-flooded area of West Robotropolis. On the city streets, they darted from shadow to shadow, losing several of their Spy Eye entourage. One stuck to them, like a leech to skin. Following. Listening.

Though Snively's interest in the pair had fled, he kept his ears tuned to the surveillance as he flipped through the still images the Spy Eyes had captured. There were some breathtaking shots of the Princess, much better than the ones in the Robotropolis database. He traced a finger along the crystal-clear edges of her hair, the detail of her corneas. Light-weaved circles of lapis lazuli. He could almost believe... part of her soul could be in this picture.

He rolled his eyes. Utter crap. There was no way souls were captured. Bodies were chemicals and reactions and flash-card memories. They were self-contained and could not live beyond themselves.

Sonic began making annoying noises, prompting Snively to glare over at the screen. “I thought up a killer guitar riff, Sal! I can't wait to try it!”

“Uhuhh..” Sally sounded distracted, and she stared at the buildings they passed with blank-looking eyes. She rubbed her hands over her arms, tucking her neck down into her shoulders.

“Yo, Sal. You cold?”

She shrugged. “I don't know, Sonic. It's just...on the beach. It was creepy.”

“More like smelly!”

“No, seriously. It felt like someone was watching me.”

“The Spy Eyes.”

“Not just that.”

Sometimes, when Snively had been on surveillance for endless hours, he would stare with red, dry eyes at the shifting pixels. His mind would detach from his body. It felt, sometimes... like he was on the edge of some great revelation. If he just stared a little harder...

And now, the shift of her arms, the tone of her voice... it was an epiphany.

“It felt like someone was there...like someone was touching me.”

Snively thumped back into the chair. He didn't know he'd been leaning forward. She'd felt him...

But through wires, through light, how could it be-

Sonic whistled. “Whoa, you're startin' to sound like the ole Antoine! I thought you were way over the creepy-crawlies by now!” He grinned sheepishly, as if expecting a sharp rebuke. “I mean, c'mon, Sal!”

Snively stared at her, the clasp of her arms around her chest, over the places he'd touched. His brain hurt worse than ever.

'Stand on your head, turn it all around, you're not going to figure it out-'

“Sal...?”

“Nevermind, Sonic,” she said, letting her arms drop and swing limply. “Let's just go.”

“Yeah. We're outta here.” Sonic took her in his arms. They blasted through the city, losing the lone Spy Eye in an instant. Snively didn't notice.

He leaned back in the chair and massaged his temples, outwardly in pain....but inwards a euphoric mess.

He was catching the madness...it oozed all through his veins like a fire poison. The sick art of collecting souls, hypnotizing him with its allure.

He smiled, soft, secretly. Unlike Uncle, he wasn't indiscriminate, taking whatever came along. No, Snively was fickle, and focused...his sole focus was on one.

He knew he'd have to plan, but he had no idea where to start. This was unfamiliar territory, but his aching brain lusted for the challenge, something to break the monotony, and something to live for. Her.

He stuck a zip disc in the computer and began to backup todays' surveillance footage and photos. The start of his collection. A ping came in, and he answered, unflinching as Robotnik's sharp, impatient voice leapt from the speakers.

“Snively!”

“Yes?”

“I will be home tomorrow. Have there been any problems?”

He watched the download bar reach the end. “Uhuh. None.” Nevermind the blown-up refinery. Nevermind the beating. He didn't care if blood was coming out his ears at the end of it, as long as he had this disc.

“Good.” Robotnik's voice was cruel, rich with his unspoken threats. “There had better not be.”

'Shove it, fat boy.'

“No, sir.”

The download finished; the girl immortalized in plastic and circuitry. He popped it out, holding the warm sliver of her in his palm. Robotnik growled a sort of caustic goodbye and closed the COMM Link; Snively ignored it. Though Robotnik was coming back, he would go out again on a treasure hunt, or killing spree, or oil dig... he always did. And when Robotnik went out to hunt, his nephew would hunt too. Elusive prey of light-sparks and shadow, memory of euphoria and pain... Sally held all that, and he would have it.

But for now..

He had a particle of her trapped, clutched in the bony digits of his fingers, caught. He wasn't giving it back.

And this was just the start.

T eh end?

A/N PART II: Why can't I ever write Snively and Sally together without sexualizing them...? Cuz that's no fun, that's why.

Also, no! this story isn't supposed to be logical, in case you were wondering.

Though I do like parts of this story frament-thing, I find a lot of it to be boring and dry. So, lemme know what you think, whether it's ok, or whether I should go die in a gutter, far far away from any keyboards. ^^