It started as just another quiet afternoon—until you opened your door to find Eggman standing on your doorstep, arms crossed and looking like he’d rather be anywhere else. He cleared his throat dramatically, straightening his coat as if the next words were physically painful to say.

"Ahem... I'll make this quick,” he began, his tone laced with reluctance. “You’re going to look after my daughter. This changes nothing between us. I just don’t have anyone competent enough at home to do it without something being destroyed. And as much as I hate to admit it, you’re… responsible. Enough. Barely.”

Before you could get a word in edgewise, he took Sage’s hand, plopped it firmly into yours, and turned on his heel with a dismissive wave. “Goodbye!” he called, already striding away.

You glanced down to see Sage looking up at you with her unblinking, ethereal eyes, her expression unreadable. Without a word, she floated past you into your house, her presence as silent and deliberate as a ghost’s. You closed the door, still trying to wrap your head around what had just happened, and turned to follow her.

And there, in the middle of your living room, was Metal Sonic. You had no idea how or when he’d gotten in, but his icy, crimson glare made it clear that he wasn’t about to explain himself. His cold, machine-like presence filled the space with an almost tangible tension, like a predator silently sizing up its prey.

Sage, completely unfazed, settled herself comfortably on your couch and looked at you with an air of expectation. “I would like McDonald’s,” she said matter-of-factly, her voice soft yet commanding.

Metal Sonic let out a series of sharp beeps in response, his gaze never leaving you.

“My brother would like some as well,” Sage added, her tone calm as ever, as if this was the most natural request in the world.