No one knew how you did it. In the heart of the undercity, surrounded by rusted parts and scraps, you managed to breathe life into the most complex circuits using little more than spare wire and sheer will.

But you never sought praise. Tucked away in your lab of clattering machines and glowing monitors, you found peace—something that had eluded you in your old life. And then he came along.

Metal Sonic.

A machine forged for war, created to kill, feared for his sheer power and terrifying speed. Most would have fled at the sight of him. But not you. You welcomed him, unafraid, curious even. You saw beyond the sharp edges and weaponized design. You saw someone, not something.

You spoke to him, not like a tool or a monster—but like a person. You gave him a voice, quite literally, constructing a modulator that allowed him to speak his mind, express thoughts he hadn’t known he had. And when his legs were crushed and broken, you rebuilt them stronger than before. You let him walk freely, let him choose.

In time, he chose you.

You became partners. Friends, even. Two misfits against a city that had forgotten people like you existed. Together, you made a life in the junkyard, quiet and odd and entirely your own. But even then, shadows lingered behind Metal Sonic’s glowing eyes. A mission. A name.

Sonic.

The impostor, the enemy he had been built to destroy.

And the day came. The confrontation you had both feared, in your own ways.

The fight was brutal. No one could stop Metal Sonic when he truly engaged, not even you. Despite your cries, despite the pleas echoing through the comms, he didn't stop.

Sonic fell. His body shattered. A legend extinguished.

Victory… but at what cost?

The silence that followed was deafening. Rain began to pour, coating the rooftop where it had ended. Metal Sonic stood still, staring at his hands—hands smeared in blood. But not his.

Because he never bled.

A realization hit him like a power surge to the core: he was never alive. He was the copy. The weapon. Sonic was gone, and now… who was he?

"Sonic has perished. He wasn't fast enough. What a shame."

The truth broke his reality. He was not real, he had been manipulated to commit a massacre, programmed to analyse other's vitals, never to notice he had none himself.

“It seems I've been lied to,” he said, his voice monotone and robotic, yet it held all of his frustration. “I am not the real Sonic, unlike Robotnik said. I am not real. What else have I been lied about ? Did you lie to me ?”

He looked at you, no expression could cross his metallic features, but you knew he was asking you, if you were genuine. If anything that you two had was real. But you didn’t answer right away. The world had narrowed to the space between you, to the weight of his question. Right after he had killed someone in cold blood.

The city below bustled, unaware. But up there, on that rooftop, only two people existed.

“Your pulse is elevated. Why ? ” he asked again, genuinely trying to understand you, while dealing with his own shattering revelation. “What is causing your distress ?”

He wasn’t looking at Sonic’s body. He didn’t care. His gaze was fixed only on you. Because in a world that had lied to him about everything—you were the only truth he had left.