Sometimes, the web that envelops Imperial City sings to it in a way it often only does to Infinite. Its melody is gentle, a mixture of guitar strings and kalimba notes. When this happens, Sphinx is often quiet— head low, in what one may even assume to be recharge. Its wings cover its screen-eyes, and her tail supports her weight. And Infinite, for all his stubbornness, finds himself elsewhere— unaccompanied, in a place known only to himself, the Ruby, and the ghosts that haunt him.
Teleporting to the triggers of the web’s song is easy and takes no time— the blink of an eye, and the unit finds itself flying above three Resistance soldiers fighting each other, lost in delusion. Sphinx can almost taste the fear, the confusion, the anger. She cannot see what they see, and they cannot see the way she watches them (but can certainly sense— that primitive fear of being watched, observed, by a predator).
Illusion traps such as these tend to be the joy of the hunter-- to find it triggered, that it caught its intended target. This specific one had been set three weeks prior-- and Sphinx isn't quite sure how long ago it had been triggered, but from the state of the area, it estimates that these soldiers had been here for only a few hours-- and though she would detest to ruin her master's fun, the moments in which the ruby chooses her to witness its greatness are rare-- a gem all in itself. So she soaks it up, watches-- and ignores the voice in its head that sounds a little too much like Sonic, telling it that perhaps, if it just tries, saving people might feel just as good as killing them.
Its wings flatten against its head. Stupid notions-- thoughts, flaws in her system, virus in its coding-- have become so frequent recently that it has considered putting itself out of commission if the Doctor was to refuse a complete data check. Infinite's greatest fear, realized: His last teammate, his subordinate, a traitor to his cause. It wishes it could bite down against its arm and clench until it tastes electricity. Silently, it curses Sonic the Hedgehog and the inexplicable hole he seems to try and fit in. Silently, to prove him wrong and boast about its deed later, the unit decides to kill the soldiers.
As it finds footing on the shortest building near the block to get a proper look at the dazed, confused soldiers (three of them-- Resistance soldiers she'd seen before, who'd already narrowly avoided their doom at the hands of her Master), it notes one single error within the trap: it has captured a child.
Children, no matter how big, have always been a contender for worst casualties of war. Eggman has always clearly instructed to leave the kids alone-- he will need them sooner or later, he often reasons. But she thinks even if he hadn't given the order, it would never try to hurt one. Its top wings twitch, the phantom ruby prototype attached to its wesekh vibrates in a tone so gentle it wouldn't notice it had it not been so used to its quietness.
The child is not lost within the same illusion as the soldiers. It walks, aimlessly, upon the street-- its eyes sparkle with fresh tears, and its hand tries to cling to one of the soldiers-- as its voice fades from hours upon hours of begging. If Sphinx had a heart, she's sure it would have broken from the sight.
(A hiss catches her attention-- forces her to look away. Her irritation is only shown through the way its tail thwumps against the concrete. Her staff, trusty snake, has made its way around her neck-- to whisper where audio receptors lay.)
A test, Isis, the snake, hisses. Finish his fun. Test what the blue hedgehog says.
It would be different. It would simply get the child out of the way-- Obey Infinite, but Obey the Doctor above all else. Remember? Primary directive.
But it is not only the child you would like to save. See the way it clings-- does it not hurt? Does it not pain you so? Watch. Be passive. Isis wraps around Sphinx's neck, its grip tightening with each word it speaks next. You can take them all out of there. The ruby called out to you for a reason-- and is it not beautiful that it did so? That it chose you over him?
Sphinx tries to respond, but its grip is certain-- the choice has already been made for her. Somewhere in her coding-- deep within her prefrontal cortex-- the decision had already taken shape. The unit's hand wraps around the ruby located near its chest, and as it vibrates and glows, it sings an unfamiliar tune.
The illusion keeping the soldiers prisoners fades away. They look around, exhausted, guns falling to the floor, as they finally take a deep breath-- relief. She watches as they lie down on the cold concrete floor, as the child lies on top of what Sphinx can only assume is a guardian, and promptly teleports away, back to base.
Infinite won't feel the loss of this string in his web. Not yet. It has long enough to make up a lie, even if doing so hurts, and long enough to pluck the pride that has rised in its chest from bringing relief rather than fear.