before my melatonin kicks in, here’s a notes app wip excerpt about my purple bisexuals below the cut! it’s not done, nor is it proofread, but i like them a lot so (: enjoy the scraps while i suffer over real world things
The swallow began fiddling with Omega's back panel, but found herself pausing every few moments due to the undesired attention she was getting. Her client didn't seem to be aware of how obnoxious his staring was, so Wave didn't feel justified to snap at him... but that didn't make things easier.
"Have you ever worked with robots before?" she asked, turning to look at the chameleon.
Espio shook his head, but approached the now exposed wiring; "I've only ever been inside the cyberworld," he explained, trying to make sense of the robot's innards.
Wave blinked a couple times in disbelief, growing more uneasy as the chameleon's statement seemed less and less like a joke.
"It's a long story; Shadow karate-chopped a computer that I couldn't seen to hack and I followed him in," he elaborated, holding back a laugh. Espio knew he sounded insane, but it was amusing to watch the rogue silently ruminate over this bizarre information: it was cruel, but her expressions were priceless.
Turning back to continue assessing the damage, Wave began mumbling nonsense under her breath about the panel being tampered with, which piqued Espio's interest. He didn't ask, as the swallow looked focused, but he was impressed with how familiar the mechanic was with robotics, considering extreme gear was her specialization.
"Do you want the good news or the bad news first?"
"The order doesn't matter to me."
Wave sighed, pinching her beak; "Don't be a smartass, just answer my questions. Anyways, I just need to resolder the connections on his panel, and hope there was nothing erased... especially software. I don't fuck with software," she groaned, glancing warily at the exposed wires.
The chameleon raised an eyebrow, "Where's the bad news?"
"I uh, don't really... okay, maybe I don't like soldering." Wave stated, crossing her arms.
Espio was far from amused; "You mean to tell me that your personal preferences are going to cost us the war?" he enquired, biting back as much aggression as he could.
The swallow scoffed, "Us? For the record, I hate it because I have to keep my hands steady, which is hard to do when someone is staring through my skull."
"Us as in the resistance, not you and I, as I'm well aware your team is not aligned and has chosen to ignore the fight entirely," Espio clarified, trying to mask his frustration. Sensing that his misstep was uncalled for, he backtracked with a softer tone, "But I do apologize for making your work environment hostile. I made a promise to Rouge, so I can't leave Omega unattended. If there's another way for me to be less obno—" he started, but was quickly cut off.
"No, it's fine," Wave said quickly, backpedaling. "I can fix the robot, you can stay here, it's all fine.”
Whether she was telling the truth or not was debatable, but they didn’t have the time to think about it in more depth. In fact, there was no time at all, as Espio was already receiving an incoming transmission from his communicator.
“I won’t be able to work with that beeping,” she scolded, but the smirk on her face indicated this was a joke. Nonetheless, the chameleon apologized anyways and answered the call.
“Listen up, we just got word that Eggman’s forces are undermanned at his headquarters in Metropolis!” a familiar voice cheered through speaker.
The swallow perked up and leaned back on her work table to commentate; “Huh, I guess Clifford is still hanging around that group after all… wait, is he a commander? Him, seriously?!”
Espio rolled his eyes and shushed her before unmuting; “They're probably staging somewhere else as part of Eggman's plan. This could be our only chance to take the city,” he replied.
Wave snorted and shook her head; “Yeah, sure he is: he’s fucking with you 100%, are you seriously gonna fall for that?” she jeered as the detective frantically re-muted and prayed her comments weren’t picked up by the crappy mic on his wrist.
Thankfully, Knuckles hadn’t heard the girl, and was too swept away in agreement to question Espio’s willing cooperation; “Exactly!” he cheered, “That's why we're focusing on a full frontal assault on Metropolis: I'm calling it ‘Operation Big Wave.’”
“I bet he’s still mad I’m taller than him,” she chimed back in, this time loudly crunching on some chips that were stale in her desk for who knows how long.
Espio raised an eyebrow, “You know Knuckles?” he asked, flinching at the loud crunching. “Also, this has nothing to do with your hei—“ he started, but eventually deadpanned while Wave snickered, successfully duping him again.
The swallow shrugged and nodded, still smirking from her joke, “Yeah, he’s not the brightest bulb, but then again neither is Storm so I guess we’re even. Who put him in charge?”
“Who cares what it's called? What's important is to have a well thought out strategy,” a different voice chimed in, and the swallow’s attention was quickly refocused once more.
She used this as an opportunity to brush her gloves on her pants, and walk over to Espio in an attempt to peer at the communicator’s visuals; “Oh, I like him! I dunno why he sounds familiar, but the dude has a point.”
Espio tried to move his arm away from her, but it was pointless: Wave wanted to snoop, so she’d get to. “I thought up this strategy in about a minute and a half,” Knuckles started, which earned a groan from both mobians.
“I bet his brain only has 4MB of storage, and half of that is dedicated to remembering how to aim when punching: 90 seconds is probably a personal record for him!” Wave jeered, but this time the chameleon couldn’t resist laughing.
“You have a point, but your commentary isn’t funny enough to drown out the discussion, so save you insults until AFTER they’re done talking.”
“Rude, but fair. If you talked over my meetings I’d probably concuss you.”
Before the swallow could continue the banter, Vector’s tendency to eat the mic proved its comedic timing, cutting the two off with a boom; “Ha! Great speech! Let's give Eggman an old-fashioned beat down!”
Wave glared at the auditory assailant, “What an irritable teammate, I’d hate to put up with him.”
“That’s my boss,” Espio admitted, failing to keep a straight face, but managed to disguise his laugh by clearing his throat.
The mechanic raised an eyebrow, stepping back in disbelief.
“You… work for HIM? You’re fucking with me, no… seriously? In what universe would someone like you work for an airbag like him?”
Espio shrugged, opting to not take offence or enable the notion that Vector was an idiot; “He’s usually more insightful than this, a method to his madness if you will. It’s irritating and unconventional, but he could be worse.”
“They have more in sheer numbers, so the idea of a quick, focused attack isn't bad. We also have Sonic— I mean, the other Sonic— so I have no doubt we can do this! Also, if we can destroy the Phantom Ruby, we should be able to send the other Sonic home… at least I hope so, this is all new territory for me!” Tails rambled out.
The chameleon was surprised Wave had no insults for the kitsune, turning back to figure out why— but her expression was unreadable.
Espio inhaled, “I am aware that you have somewhat of a rivalry with Tails, but—
—he sounds okay,” the swallow affirmed, almost relieved.
“Did you… know otherwise?” the chameleon prompted, but he was hesitant to say anything at all.
Wave shook out of her contemplative state and made her way back to Omega’s exposed panel, removing herself from the shift in tone; “It doesn’t matter, anyways. He’s just a kid,” she muttered before pushing her glasses down onto her face.
Opting to change the subject, Espio joined her by the robot and pointed to her lenses; “Are those also protective eye gear? I figured it was a style choice, or something for debris when flying… but soldering, too?”
She scoffed, “What do you think this is, Vogue runway? 73 questions with Wave? Seriously, just because I’m the girl of the team it doesn’t make me the vain one.”
While the mechanic knew Espio hadn’t implied anything superficial, and was actually being more insightful and polite than anyone else who entered her workshop, she couldn’t resist berating him.
If he was any less observant, this would have been the end of their agreement. But Espio was far too good of a detective to fall for deflection, and far too stubborn to lose at his own game.
“I bet it’s Storm, then.”
“You said you’re not the vain one, so that means it has to be Storm.”
Wave, perplexed, turned away from her work again to stare inquisitively at the chameleon. “Go on,” she promoted, “State your reasoning.”
He inhaled, “Well, you ruled yourself out which leaves Jet and Storm— presuming there are no secret rogues and you only intend to include members of this generation. It seems too easy for me to point the finger at Jet; he’s vain to an extent, but he’s also rich, 14, and in a position of power. Some of it is inevitable, but leadership requires a level of humility so that one does not assume their position: his virtues are not a result of leadership, as that would be affirming the consequent. Rather, he is a leader because of his inherent virtue,” Espio explained.
To his surprise, the swallow didn’t cut him off, instead nodding for the analysis to resume.
“Okay,” he began warily, not used to getting this far, “Storm gets to fulfill his role as second in command, which most likely means he completes more tasks. Whether it be manning the airship, completing chores, going out on missions, cooking, being a yes man, personal fitness training— which I’m guessing purely based on his stature— he’s doing a lot, especially for Jet. Am I right in presuming this?” he paused for approval.
“Yes, but go on, I’m invested in where this is heading.”
Espio had to resist smiling, continuing to explain his reasoning; “In Storm’s mind, he does a lot more than you, and way more than Jet. He’s the man keeping everything together in his eyes, so even though people look down on him for not being the brightest, Storm knows in his heart that he’s more important than anyone will ever know. But he’s okay with that, because he’s the bigger person— literally and figuratively— so their assumptions don’t matter anymore. Even if no one else knows it, he is the backbone of the Babylon Rogues, the cogs that run the machine, and his ability to do it without recognition makes him the most valuable member. He’s quiet about it, but that’s precisely what makes him more vain: Storm thinks he’s above the petty feud between you and Jet since he doesn’t fight for the recognition. That’s my thought process.”
Wave began slowly applauding as she approached the chameleon, who had unknowingly paced around her workshop and grown more passionate and outspoken with every word, spiralling into the rambles of a madman. Hell, he was still completely oblivious to how quickly he lost all composure, basking in the pride of completing his monologue.
However, as the swallow became a concerning level of close without uttering a word, Espio started returning to his senses, realizing how far he overstepped.
At this point, Wave was inches from his face, merely held back by the chameleon’s horn.
Cheshire grin overtaking her vaguely amused expression, she spoke lowly,
Espio, uneasy, backed away ever so slightly in confusion, “What?”
“I lied,” the mechanic repeated. “I’m the vain one, wanna know what gives it away?” she asked, still speaking ever so slowly.
When he didn’t respond, Wave barely held back a giggle and jabbed the chameleon’s shoulder with her finger;
“I just got you to ramble out justifications to take the heat off me and put it on Storm. You didn’t even see it coming,” she admitted earnestly, yet her condescending and mocking tone remained intact.
Espio, although flustered, was too stubborn to let this reasoning slide; “Maybe, but that doesn’t make you vain. Vain people don’t need external validation because they already know their worth: just like I noted about Storm. If you want attention this badly, you’re not vain, you’re desperate.”
Almost immediately after opening his mouth, the chameleon was certain he had fucked things up completely this time. Perhaps this was a good reminder to why he stopped going on arrogant, thrill-seeking battles of wit, and became the stoic voice of reason for his team.
He expected a heated comeback of sorts, or perhaps a slap to the face, but the mechanic did neither.
Sneer melting into smile, Wave managed to surprise the chameleon again:
“Oh, I like you. You’re not leaving this workshop anytime soon, so get comfortable,” she commanded, gently bonking his horn before gliding back to Omega, solder in hand.
Still in shock, Espio shook his head and blinked repeatedly before reluctantly accepting that what just happened really did occur, “I’m sorry, what?” he rasped out, bewildered.
The mechanic, who was now resoldering the motherboard like it was nothing, couldn’t resist giggling this time; “You’re smart, stubborn, sarcastic, and socratic. Where else am I gonna find discussion like this!?”
Laughing nervously, the chameleon wondered how he could politely reply; “Well, I appreciate the um, compliments? But I should really be getting back to the restoration— Operation Big Wave and all, he explained.
“That’s going to fail and you know it,” she retorted, “Just stay here and pretend you showed up! They won’t know the difference.”
Espio could have argued against her logic, but he not only knew better, he knew that Wave knew he knew better. And that, in itself, was an inescapable position.
“Can you at least put some music on?”
“Only if you’re in the mood for Warped circa 2008.”
Yeah, this would definitely be a better use of his time.
