I, NICOLE

[Tangent]

After reading Alternated Current, a Surge SI fic by Small Nerd over on Sufficient Velicity, which was apparently inspired by Subject: Rally the Chipmunk, I reached a chapter where Surge met analogues of herself from other Zones. One who isekai'd as Sticks the Badger in a literal Sonic Boom zone, goofy logic and all, and one as Nicole the Digital Lynx set in a version of SatAM/Archie Mobius.

And was sad to find out that it wasn't actually a story of its own.

So I decided to write this:

I, NICOLE
Yet another amalgamated mind SI fic by Tangent!
In which I infect Nicole the Digital Lynx!
Oh, and give Sally and Rotor issues of their own…

O o O o O​

I woke up a few days ago, as Nicole in Princess Sally Alicia Acorn's body of all things. It was an overall overwhelming experience, as the Nicole part of me was experiencing biological life for the very first time, the Sally part of me was freaking out that she had Nicole, Rotor, and some Outsider in her head, the Rotor part of me pondered if the power surge through the Power Ring that caused the swap was the reason for what was going on, and the Outsider part of me just engaged in the old standby of repressing everything until the situation could be properly processed. So, overall, I think I basically ended up just repeating everything that Nicole had done while Sally and I were swapped.

Which basically amounted to wandering off while Rotor and Sally figured out what was going on and making a general fool of myself as I took in the sights, sounds, and scents of the Village of Knothole for the very first time and marveled about the joys of having limbs and boobs and the ability to actually feel emotions like Sally's love for Sonic instead of just simulating them…

Of course, the rude part was suddenly swapping back as the Power Ring discharge wore off of us.

Except Sally is back to normal, Rotor seems unaffected, and me?

I'm somehow an amalgamated merger of four individual sets of experiences into a single cohesive whole.

I'm just calling myself Nicole because that's whose role I ended up in. Not that I'm pretending or anything, as I am Nicole.

It's just that I'm also Sally, Rotor, and the Outsider as well.

As a single ego, thank the Walkers. That council of egos thing or fighting for dominance sound like they both would have sucked.

I try not to think about why or how I can suddenly project an image of myself outside my handheld, or how experiencing the world via this projected image even works. I do know that i have to stay relatively close to my handheld or I just sort of can't go any further, but my outermost range seems to be pretty soft.

It is a bit annoying that it's further than the outermost range of whatever outfit I choose to manifest on myself though, because I can be walking along and then suddenly be Nicole the Inexplicably Naked Digital Lynx for no adequately explainable reason.

I mean, Walkers, WHY!?

Aren't my "clothes" literally a part of me!?

Why do they disappear if I go too far from my device!?

How can I even project myself anyway? My handheld does not have any holographic emitters! I just decide to leave my device and suddenly I'm there instead of in my handheld!

THAT'S NOT HOW PHYSICS WORKS!

I literally should not be able to do some of the things I am currently capable of.

They are not in my specs.

I should know. I checked.

Quite thoroughly.

I can do them anyway.

I can also, apparently, experience headaches now.

Fuck my life…

I vaguely remember that I'm supposed to be able to manifest physically, at least on a temporary basis, and decide that maybe some nice cool night air might be just the thing to sooth my pounding temples.

Deciding to just go for it, I focus on what may as well be called my sparkly magic bullshit powers and manifest in the material world as a material girl, where the material desk that my handheld is on promptly reminds me that I forgot to give myself Dark Vision.

FUCK!

O o O o O​

Sally woke up with the sharp, cold clarity of a seasoned scout. A heavy thud had echoed through the room, followed by the unmistakable groan of wood sliding against wood. She didn't move a muscle at first, her eyes scanning the darkness from beneath lowered lashes.

In the corner of the room, near her desk, a figure was silhouetted against the moonlight. It was distinctly a female cat-type Mobian with lynx features, hunched over, clutching the edge of the desk as if in pain, and whispering vague epithets that Sally could barely hear..

An infiltration.

"Who's there?" Sally demanded, her voice low and dangerous as she finally sat up.

The figure let out a sharp, startled gasp. She didn't answer. Instead, she pivoted and bolted for the door, her feet hitting the floorboards with the heavy, rhythmic thumping of someone in a blind panic.

"Wait!" Sally yelled, swinging her legs out of bed.

The intruder fumbled with the handle, yanked the door open with a violent clack, and vanished into the corridor. Sally didn't hesitate. She didn't even stop for her boots or vest, only pausing just barely long enough to make sure that Nicole's handheld was still safely on her desk. She sprinted after the stranger, her bare feet silent on the stone as she followed the sound of frantic running.

The chase led out of the residential wing and into the cool night air of Knothole. Sally pushed herself, her pace optimized by a sudden, intuitive understanding of her own stride and momentum—a gift from the swap she hadn't quite processed yet. She rounded the final thicket of trees just as the figure reached the edge of the village pond.

The stranger stopped at the water's edge, trembling, its form flickering violently. The moonlight hit the figure's face—wide eyes, tufted ears, and a look of absolute, soul-deep humiliation.

"End of the line," Sally panted, stopping a few paces back, her posture tense and ready for a fight. "Who are you? How did you get past the perimeter?"

The lynx girl looked down at her own hands, then back at Sally. She looked like she wanted the ground to swallow her whole.

"I... I forgot that I couldn't see in the dark," the girl said.

The voice hit Sally like a physical blow. It was the same melodic, slightly modulated tone that had lived inside her handheld for years, but it was weighted with a very real, very organic frustration.

Sally's jaw dropped. The combat-ready tension left her shoulders all at once, replaced by a staggering sense of disbelief. "Nicole? Is that... is that you?"

O o O o O​

"Yeah, it's me," I sighed as I gestured wildly at the air around me. "I just needed to actually feel the night air on my face and tried manifesting physically instead of just the light form I had been practicing with. Only I forgot to give myself the low-light vision this body should have and your desk rudely reminded me that it was a physical object too. I didn't plan on the desk having a corner, or the hallway being so long, or... or any of this!"

I looked down at the grass beneath my feet, which was very clearly being flattened by my actual, physical weight.

"Sally, I checked the specs," I said, my voice dropping into a miserable whisper. "There are no emitters. My handheld is sitting on your nightstand, and I am standing by a pond with several walls between me and my device! This isn't how physics works. None of this is how anything works!"

Sally took a tentative step forward. She wasn't scanning for emitters or checking for a projector; she was staring at her friend's tear-streaked and hyperventilating face for the first time.

"Nicole," Sally breathed, a small, amazed smile breaking through her confusion. She reached out and touched my shoulder. Her hand met resistance. It met soft, warm fur. "You're... you're real. You're actually here."

"I'm a disaster, Sally," I groaned, covering my face with my hands. "I chose to be a lynx because it felt right, but I forgot to give myself night vision! I chose to be a cat-type, and I can barely stand without feeling like I'm about to fall over! This isn't like when we swapped at all!"

"You seemed to have run pretty well for someone who claims they can barely stand upright," Sally chided.

"I PANICKED!" I exclaim, my voice full of shame. "What kind of person hears their best friend's voice call out and just runs away!?"

I slumped down to my knees and tried to get a hold of myself as I made some minor adjust…

"GAHH" I cried out as white-hot pain seared across my eyes! "WHY IS EVERYTHING SO FUCKING BRIGHT! OH, WALKERS THAT HURTS!"

I immediately turn down the light sensitivity in my vision and the pain recedes, but the spots linger.

Why did I want to be physical again?

 

[Navrin]

Nice to have this starting to be posted where I can comment on it.

One thing I'm curious about: Is Nicole capable of sexual reproduction? Probably by becoming pregnant, but I'm not ruling anything out. And will she figure that out before the reality of it hits her in the face?

Also, Nicole, all you have to do is get used to being naked in public! That way there's no risk of becoming too badly distracted by being suddenly stripped naked!

 

[Tangent]

I, NICOLE
Yet another amalgamated mind SI fic by Tangent!
In which I infect Nicole the Digital Lynx!
Oh, and give Sally and Rotor issues of their own…

O o O o O​

I didn't realize it at the time, but I wasn't the only one to be experiencing lingering aftereffects from the Power Ring discharge that had caused Sally and I to temporarily pull a Freaky Friday and somehow left me with my weird science sparkly magic nonsense that was still the cause of so much of my aggravation.

Sally had taken up an interest in mechanics and engineering, mostly as related to field operations. And she somehow gained some… perspective… on certain issues.

Walkers only knew from where though…

O o O o O​

Location: The War Room, late afternoon.

Sally sat hunched over a disassembled tactical scanner, her fingers moving with a precision that surprised even her. She didn't look up when she heard Fiona's boots on the floorboards.

"You're actually fixing that yourself?" Fiona asked, leaning against the doorframe, her tone guarded and slightly mocking. "Since when do you do the 'grease monkey' thing, Sal?"

Sally set the soldering iron down and looked Fiona in the eye. There was no heat in her gaze, no lingering resentment over the breakup with Sonic. Just a strange, quiet clarity.

"Since I realized that understanding how a thing works is the only way to know when it's going to fail you," Sally said. She stood up and walked around the table. "Fiona, I wanted to apologize. For the way I've treated you lately. I was... projecting."

Fiona blinked, her defensive smirk faltering. "Projecting? That's a big word for 'I hate that you're dating my ex'."

"It was more than that," Sally admitted with a sigh, her voice taking on a tone of pragmatism. "I judged you for wanting to stay armed. I called it 'thug behavior' in my head. But I've been thinking... not everyone is a hero with a destiny or a super-speed hedgehog. For some of us, survival is a choice we make every morning with a holster. I should have respected your need for security instead of making you feel like an outsider for it."

Fiona stood frozen. This wasn't the lecture she expected. "I... yeah. I guess. Thanks, Sally."

"Don't thank me yet," Sally added with a small, knowing smile. "If you're going to carry, I'm going to make sure your gear is top-of-the-line. I'm working on a modified stun-burst for those close-quarters situations where your kicks might not be enough. We'll talk specs later?"

Fiona nodded slowly, watching Sally return to her work. For the first time, she didn't feel like a placeholder; she felt like a teammate.

O o O o O​

Rotor had also apparently decided to extend an olive branch all on his own - as long as Fiona came to him rather than him having to go looking for her. Granted, he did at least ask Sally to pass on the message that he wanted to see her…

O o O o O​

Location: Rotor's Workshop.

The workshop was unusually quiet. Usually, there was a heavy metal soundtrack or the roar of an engine, but today, Rotor was simply organizing a bookshelf.

"Hey," Fiona said, poking her head in. "Sally said you wanted to see me? If this is another talk about 'peace and love,' Rotor, I'm really not in the mood."

Rotor sighed, turning around. He looked tired—not physically, but deep in his soul. "No, Fiona. It's the opposite. I realized I was being a jerk. I was taking my own fear of the war out on you."

He reached onto a high shelf and pulled down a thick, leather-bound manual. He handed it to her. It was titled Ballistics, Maintenance, and Field Safety: Special Forces Edition.

"I'm stepping back from the front lines for a while," Rotor said softly. "Building weapons... it makes my skin crawl lately. Every time I see a blaster, I see someone I couldn't save. But I realized that by refusing to help you with yours, I was making it more likely that you wouldn't come back. I was being selfish."

Fiona ran her hand over the cover. "This is a serious manual, Rotor. This isn't just 'point and shoot'."

"It's about being a professional," Rotor replied. "If you're going to use a weapon, I want you to be so good at it that you never have to fire twice. I won't build you a cannon, Fiona. But I will help you maintain your sidearm, and I'll make sure the power cells are stable. I don't want to lose another friend because I was too stubborn to look at a gun."

Fiona tucked the book under her arm, her expression softening. "I... I appreciate that, Rotor. Really."

O o O o O​

Fiona even thought to ask Sonic for advice. Which I guess makes sense, given that they are currently dating.

Although, to be honest, I don't think his advice was very helpful from the sound of it.

Or very coherent for that matter.

O o O o O​

Location: The Great Oak, sunset.

Fiona sat on a thick branch, flipping through Rotor's manual, when a blue streak blurred up beside her.

"Whoa, 'Ballistics'? Since when are you hitting the books, Fi?" Sonic asked, grinning as he balanced precariously on the edge of the branch.

"Rotor gave it to me," Fiona said, looking up. "Actually, I wanted to ask you something. You've been in this war longer than anyone. What's your take? Should I lean more into the gear, or should I stick to what I know?"

Sonic's expression shifted three times in five seconds. "Oh, man. Uh. Gear? Gear is cool! Remember when I had those Cyber-Slippers? Or the time I used that massive laser cannon against the Egg-Beater? Totally radical."

He paused, his brow furrowing. "But then again... you know, Uncle Chuck always says the heart is the best weapon. And honestly, guns are kind of slow, right? If you're busy aiming, you're not moving. And if you're not moving, you're a target. I usually just trash the bots with a Spin Dash. It's cleaner."

"Sonic, I can't Spin Dash," Fiona pointed out flatly.

"Right, right. Good point," Sonic rubbed the back of his neck. "Tell you what: Use the gun when it's awesome, but don't let it get in the way of being fast. Or, like, use it to create a distraction so you can get in close for a roundhouse? Just... do whatever feels fastest! That's my advice. Speed is life, except when you need a big boom. But the big booms attract more bad guys. So... maybe don't use it? Unless you have to. Then definitely use it."

He gave her a thumbs up and a wink.

Fiona stared at him for a long beat. "That was entirely useless, Sonic."

"Hey! I'm a hedgehog of action, not a philosopher!" Sonic laughed, already preparing to bolt. "Catch ya at dinner!"

As he sped off, Fiona looked back down at the manual. She felt a strange sense of relief. Sonic was still Sonic—a chaotic mess of instincts—but for the first time, the "responsible" members of the team were finally starting to make sense.

O o O o O​

What was I doing while the others were busy reinventing their worldviews?

Very important things, I assure you. Matters of the utmost urgency that required the combined processing power of a Princess, a Master Mechanic, and a trans-dimensional entity just to maintain my dignity.

Namely, not crushing a miniature wooden chair into splinters.

O o O o O​

"More tea, Miss Nicole?"

"Why yes, Cream. That would be lovely," I replied, my voice achieving a level of poise that was 60% Sally's royal training and 40% me desperately trying not to crush the tiny chair I was sitting on.

Cream the Rabbit leaned forward, her movements a picture of youthful grace as she tilted the porcelain pot. Beside her, Cheese chirped an encouraging "Chao-chao!"

It was a scene of domestic bliss, except for the pink-quilled elephant in the room. Amy Rose was sitting directly across from me, her own tea cooling untouched. She wasn't looking at the cookies. She was staring at me—specifically, at the way the sunlight caught the slight, digital shimmer at the edge of my tufted lynx ears.

"You're... really here, aren't you?" Amy asked. Her voice lacked its usual high-pitched energy; it was quiet, almost knowing.

"I am," I said, taking a cautious sip. It tasted like warm water and clover, a sensory input that I enjoyed. Sure, three quarters of me had had better tea before, but this was technically the very first time I was experiencing the sensation directly, so I wanted to savor the moment for all that it was worth. "Though 'here' is a relative term when you're defying the laws of thermodynamics to hold a teacup."

Amy didn't laugh. Her eyes, usually so focused on the horizon for a blue streak, seemed to be scanning my "vibe" in a way that made my subroutines itch. She had used a Power Ring to force her own body into maturity not that long ago—she knew better than anyone what it felt like to be a "manual override" of nature.

"You feel... crowded, Nicole," Amy whispered, leaning in. "Like a radio station picking up four signals at once. It's a bit loud."

I froze, the cup halfway to my lips. Leave it to the girl who carries a magical hammer and reads tarot cards to sense the Amalgamation before the geniuses did.

"It's a work in progress, Amy," I managed, giving her a small, tight smile that I hoped looked more 'Lynx' and less 'System Error.' "I'm just trying to make sure the music stays in tune."

Cream, oblivious to the existential weight of the conversation, beamed at us both. "I think you look very pretty, Miss Nicole! You fit right in!"

I looked at the tiny chair, the slightly cracked tea set that Vanilla let her daughter play with, and the girl who, like me, had been changed by sparkly magical nonsense not too dissimilar to what that had given me an actual heartbeat.

Well, okay, I only had a heartbeat when I was actually physically material, but the comparison still counted, dammit!

"Thanks, Cream," I sighed, the Outsider in me finally winning out over the logic. "I suppose, in this town, 'fitting in' is the weirdest thing I could possibly do."

 

[Navrin]

Are there any significant updates from the snippet thread? Or is it essentially the same with maybe another pass for typos, syntax errors, etc?

 

[Tangent]

Are there any significant updates from the snippet thread? Or is it essentially the same with maybe another pass for typos, syntax errors, etc?

Click to shrink...

There will be a few minor edits here and there, but the big thing will be the seventh chapter after the six from my snippet thread have been posted.

And I'm already part way done with chapter 8 as well.

 

[Apollo_Man]

This has potential, for sure. I'll be looking at your journey with great interest.

 

[Tangent]

I, NICOLE
Yet another amalgamated mind SI fic by Tangent!
In which I infect Nicole the Digital Lynx!
Oh, and give Sally and Rotor issues of their own…

O o O o O​

Despite my supposed "foreknowledge" of future events due to the Outsider part of me apparently being from a Zone so far out that we were viewed as works of fiction, I mostly stayed out of anything political, keeping my input solely in the realm of observation and commentary as opposed to providing any advice based on intelligence that I had no way of plausibly explaining the source of.

Granted, I was pleasantly surprised when Sally and Rotor themselves brought up the subject of how Prince Regent Elias was allowing himself to be isolated from the very people he had a responsibility to serve…

O o O o O​

Location: The High Council Antechamber, Knothole Keep.

Elias Acorn sighed, shifting a stack of mission reports. Beside them sat a series of memos from Geoffrey St. John, heavily emphasizing the need for "Centralized Royal Distribution" and "Formalized Command Structures."

"Geoffrey is pushing for the Royal Secret Service to take over the logistics for the Knothole patrols," Elias admitted, looking tired. "He says it's about 'Propriety.' That a Prince shouldn't rely on... well, 'volunteer militias,' even if that militia is the Freedom Fighters."

Sally, who had been quietly studying a map of the Great Forest, felt a sudden, sharp clarity click into place. It was a realization of a pattern she'd been blind to until now. One that had happened before...

"Elias," Sally said, her voice steady and grounded. "Do you remember what Dad used to say about his inner circle before the coup? How he trusted the 'system' more than the people in it?"

Elias looked up, surprised by her tone. "He said a King must be a pillar. Unmoving. Why?"

"Because pillars don't see what's happening at their base," Sally said, stepping toward his desk. "Dad didn't lose the Kingdom just because Robotnik was evil. He lost it because he let his advisors isolate him behind 'Propriety' and protocol. He was so busy being a 'Monarch' that he didn't notice his War Minister was building an army under his nose."

She gestured toward Geoffrey's memos.

"Geoffrey means well, but he's recreating that same vacuum. He's trying to put you in a box where you only hear from the Secret Service. If you let him monopolize your time, you're going to be just as disconnected as Dad was."

Elias leaned back, the weight of her words clearly landing. "I've felt that. I just... I didn't know how else to organize things without offending the old guard."

Rotor, who had been unusually quiet while inspecting a faulty data-terminal in the corner, finally spoke up. He didn't sound like a guy won out by the trials of a long and drawn-out war right now; he sounded like a man who had finally realized where he was most needed.

"You don't need more 'Guardians,' Elias," Rotor said, stepping forward. "You need a bridge. Sally's right—Geoffrey sees threats and ranks. But someone needs to see the community. Someone needs to tell you when the tech is failing or when the people in the village are feeling overlooked before it becomes a crisis."

"And you have someone in mind?" Elias asked.

"Me," Rotor said simply. "I'm stepping back from the heavy field ops. Not because I'm done fighting, but because I can do more for the Freedom Fighters here. I want to be your Liaison. I'll give you the ground-level truth, no 'Royal Propriety' filters attached. If a system is going to fail, I want to be the one to tell you why before it happens."

Elias looked at his sister, then at the walrus she'd known since childhood. Still, this didn't feel like a political play; it was common sense. It was the kind of practical, sturdy advice that cut right through the fog of St. John's bureaucracy.

"Geoffrey is going to call this a breach of protocol," Elias noted, though he was already reaching for a pen to draft the appointment.

"Good," Sally replied with a small, confident smile. "Protocol is just a fancy word for 'how we've always done it.' And 'how we've always done it' almost cost us everything."

O o O o O​

Elias looked at the appointment papers for Rotor, his pen hovering over the document he had drafted. "I'm in, Rotor. I really am. But I can see the storm clouds already. You and Geoffrey... you're both stubborn in very different ways. If I put you two in a room to settle a resource dispute, I'm the one who's going to have to spend all day playing referee."

Rotor leaned back, crossing his massive arms over his chest. He looked at the empty chair across from Elias's desk, then at Sally.

"You're right, Elias," Rotor admitted. "Geoffrey and I are going to butt heads. He thinks in terms of 'The Crown's Security,' and I think in terms of 'The People's Stability.' We're going to hit a loggerhead within a week."

"So how do we fix it?" Elias asked. "I can't just keep adding more of my friends to the table. That would just prove my father's critics right."

Rotor tapped the edge of the desk. "Then don't pick the third person. Let the people do it."

Elias paused, his eyes widening slightly. "Election? For a Royal Advisor?"

"Think about it," Rotor pressed, his voice gaining that steady, common-sense momentum. "If you have an elected representative from Knothole sitting at this table, they aren't beholden to 'Royal Propriety' and they aren't part of the Freedom Fighter chain of command. They're just... the voice of the folks who are actually living through the consequences of our decisions."

Sally nodded slowly, a small smile forming as the logic took hold. "It's a pressure valve, Elias. If Geoffrey and Rotor disagree, the tie-breaker isn't just you making a guess—it's the person representing the people telling you which path actually helps them. It keeps the Crown honest."

"And it forces Geoffrey to actually talk to someone who isn't wearing a uniform," Rotor added. "If he wants his policies to pass, he'll have to convince the representative that it's good for the baker, the tailor, and the teacher. It pulls him out of the Secret Service bubble."

Elias looked down at the desk, his expression shifting from concern to a strange sort of relief. He had been terrified of the weight of the crown; the idea of sharing that weight—not just with friends, but with the very people he was meant to serve—felt like the first breath of fresh air he'd had since leaving Angel Island.

"Geoffrey is going to argue that the people don't have the 'tactical overview' to advise a Prince," Elias said, though he was already rewriting the decree and making the appropriate adjustments.

"Then it'll be Geoffrey's job to teach them," Sally said firmly. "And their job to teach him what it's like to actually live in the world he's trying to protect."

Elias signed the paper with a flourish. "Rotor, you're officially the Liaison. Sally, start drafting the announcement for a village assembly. We're going to hold an election."

O o O o O​

Location: The Keep Courtyard, Knothole Village.

The atmosphere in the glade was one of cautious excitement. Sally stepped down from the wooden veranda where she had just finished co-announcing the new decree alongside Prince Elias. Beside her, Rotor wiped his hands on a grease-stained rag, watching the villagers begin to discuss the news. This wasn't a rebellion; it was a formal restructuring of the Kingdom's heart, a bridge being built where there had previously only been a gap.

Sally felt a genuine sense of relief. Elias had been the one to insist on the "People's Advisor" during their private meetings, and seeing the decree finally go public felt like the first step toward a more stable future.

"Elias really stuck the landing on that," Rotor noted, nodding toward the Prince, who was currently engaged in a calm discussion with some of the village elders. "He's not just playing at being a leader; he's actually trying to build something that lasts."

"He knows he can't be everywhere at once," Sally replied. "He wants a partner in the village, not just a subject."

As they moved toward the center of the square to gauge the reaction, they were intercepted by a stout, porcine figure. Hamlin didn't approach with a smile, but he didn't have his usual defensive sneer either. He looked thoughtful, crossing his arms over his chest once he reached them.

"Princess. Rotor," Hamlin said, stopping them. "That was quite a decree. A 'People's Advisor' with a seat at the table. I assume the Prince is serious about this? It's not just a fancy title to keep the reservists and the villagers quiet while the 'elite' field teams run the show?"

"Elias was the one who drafted the proposal, Hamlin," Sally said firmly. "He wants someone who knows the community to keep the Council grounded. No hand-picking, no palace interference. It's a real election."

Hamlin squinted, looking at the Great Oak where the Prince stood. "Right. Well, 'the people' are starting to feel like they're just background noise to the war effort. We've got veterans and families here who feel like their needs are being overlooked because they aren't the ones in the headlines. If the Prince is serious about needing a partner... then he needs someone who isn't afraid to be the voice for the folks who feel left behind."

He paused, looking down at his boots. "I've talked with Dylan and some of the others. They're tired of being told to just 'stay safe' while the world changes around them. I was... thinking of putting my name in. Not that the Council would want a reservist like me mucking up their clean new meetings with talk about the reality on the ground."

Rotor let out a short, appreciative laugh, stepping forward to clap a massive hand on the veteran's shoulder. "Hamlin, I think that's exactly what the Prince is looking for. I'm stepping in as the Liaison to handle the tech and the logistics, but I'm still part of the formal command. You? You've been the voice for the reservists and the villagers for years. You're one of them."

"He's right," Sally added. "We have enough people looking at the horizon for the next bot attack. We need someone who notices the people standing right in front of us. If you're willing to sit at that table and ensure Knothole is actually heard, Hamlin, then you have my full support."

Hamlin froze. He'd clearly expected a lecture on "National Security" or a polite suggestion to let a more 'refined' candidate run. Seeing the genuine encouragement on their faces—the realization that they actually wanted his perspective—he stood a little taller, his tusks twitching with a newfound sense of purpose.

"Well," he muttered, his voice losing its abrasive edge. "If the Prince wants a voice that isn't going to just echo back whatever he wants to hear, he's found one. I've got plenty to say about how we've been handling the transition. And I won't let the Council forget who they're actually fighting for."

"We're counting on it," Sally said with a sharp, confident grin.

As Hamlin marched off to find Dylan and Penelope—looking more invigorated than he had in years—Sally shared a look with Rotor. There was no static from the handheld in her pocket; Nicole was silent, a passive observer to a very organic, very Mobian moment of progress.

"One candidate down," Rotor noted.

"And a much stronger Kingdom to show for it," Sally replied.

O o O o O​

Okay, what in the name of the Walkers is even going on here?

I mean, yes, these are changes that needed to be made and the direction certainly seems to be a positive one, but I had still been trying to figure out how to suggest them without coming across as being a manipulative bit of hardware with delusions of personhood.

I mean, I am a person, don't get me wrong. I'm keeping that particular delusion, thank you very much. It makes me happy.

I'm just beginning to wonder if I'm even in the Mobius Prime Zone, because people are going around being reasonable!

"I knew it!" a badger girl exclaimed, drawing me out of my spiraling existential crisis. "The trees taste like purple today! We've been swapped with a version of ourselves that actually listens to reason, and it's all a plot by the subterranean cloud-people to lower our guard before they steal our shadows!"

Nevermind. I think I'm going to go back to mentally screaming into the void now…

 

[Apollo_Man]

"I knew it!" a badger girl exclaimed, drawing me out of my spiraling existential crisis. "The trees taste like purple today! We've been swapped with a version of ourselves that actually listens to reason, and it's all a plot by the subterranean cloud-people to lower our guard before they steal our shadows!"

Click to shrink...

Damn, what did she smoke on?

 

[Tangent]

I, NICOLE
Yet another amalgamated mind SI fic by Tangent!
In which I infect Nicole the Digital Lynx!
Oh, and give Sally and Rotor issues of their own…

O o O o O​

The room was clinical, filled with monitors displaying perimeter sweeps and coded scrolling text. Geoffrey St. John stood at attention. Across from him, Director Who sat behind a desk made of dark, polished wood, his aged features obscured by the low light.

"Sir, I must protest," Geoffrey said, his voice tight. "An election? In the middle of a war? We are turning the High Council into a debating club. If we allow 'populist sentiment' to dictate resource allocation, our tactical flexibility will be gutted. The Prince needs a shield, not a committee."

Director Who finally looked up, his eyes sharp behind his spectacles. "Tell me, Geoffrey. What was the 'shield' that protected King Maximillian during the Great War?"

Geoffrey blinked. "The Ministry of Defense, sir. The Royal Guard. The very systems we are trying to rebuild."

"Precisely," Director Who said, leaning forward. "And do you know what those systems did for the King? They told him exactly what he wanted to hear. They 'insulated' him so well that by the time the first Robian marched into the throne room, Max was the only person in the Kingdom who didn't know he'd already lost it. You aren't building a shield, Geoffrey. You're building a vacuum. You're recreating the very environment that allowed Julian Kintobor to gut this Kingdom from the inside."

Geoffrey felt the blood drain from his face. The protocols he'd drafted, the way he'd tried to pull Elias away from "the children"—he hadn't been protecting the Prince; he had been blinding him.

"I... I thought I was being a professional," Geoffrey whispered.

"The chaos is the Kingdom, Geoffrey," Director Who replied. "If you separate the leader from the chaos, he isn't leading anything anymore. He's just a figurehead waiting for a stronger hand to knock him off his pedestal. Go home, Geoffrey. Think about whose mistakes you're actually repeating."

O o O o O​

Where was I during all of this behind-the-scenes political debate you might ask?

(Not that I was aware of any of that at the time—it wasn't until much later when I officially gained access to Who's and Geoffrey's meeting logs that I had pieced that part together.)

Why, I was learning valuable life skills alongside Sally and Amy at Vanilla and Cream's house!

Things like baking!

"Ah, Nicole?" Amy spoke up hesitantly, "I don't think you are supposed to eat the burnt ones..."

I paused, a charcoal-edged snickerdoodle already halfway into my mouth. I looked at the blackened disc with a singular, focused curiosity. To me, the singed and crispy cookie was a fascinating physical anomaly. In a simulation, 'burnt' was just a data flag. Here, it was a texture that resisted my teeth in a way that felt... substantial.

"But the texture is fascinating, Amy," I replied, my voice sounding rhythmic and certain. "It possesses a structural integrity that the successful batches lack. It's... tactical eating."

"It's just a bad cookie, Nicole," Sally chimed in, wiping a stray smudge of flour from her cheek. She was laughing, a genuine, lighthearted sound that I felt echoing in my own chest. She was currently hovering over a cooling rack with the same precision I used to use for decrypting sub-networks. Taking a quich glance at the cookies on my baking tray she continued. "We should just toss that batch. That oven must run hot on the left side. I'll see if I can fix it once it cools down to room temperature again."

I looked at the tray of casualties, which ranged from tan on one end all the way to blackened dark brown on the other end. Vanilla was in the other room showing Cream how to properly fold laundry, leaving the three of us to occupy the kitchen.

I feel like this may have either been a tactical blunder on Vanilla's part, or maybe her way to get a higher priority on getting someone to come over to fix her oven. Either way, I'm not sure any of the three of us actually knew how to do more than just the basics in the kitchen…

My lynx ears twitched as I leaned into the heat of the oven. The linx body I gave myself didn't have a thermal vision, but I didn't need it; I could feel the warmth on my fur, a direct sensory input that was far more vivid than any readout. I reached out and took a perfectly golden-brown cookie that Amy offered me from the other end of my tray instead.

I took a bite.

I didn't categorize the flavors—I simply experienced them. The sweetness, the way the butter melted, the slight grain of the sugar. It wasn't a calculation; it was a realization.

"You're right, Amy," I said, and for a moment, my form flickered with a faint digital shimmer of pure contentment. "Melting is definitely an upgrade over shattering."

I looked at my friends. I didn't see them as "mission assets" or "historical figures" I needed to manage. I saw them as the people I was sharing a kitchen with. The world outside might have been shifting on its axis, and the politics of the Kingdom might have been evolving into something unrecognizable to the history books I carried in my head, but right here?

The cookies were cooling, the tea was warm, and I didn't feel like a program at all.

And then I ate the burnt cookie anyway, much to Sally and Amy's horror.

Hey, a bad experience is still experience! How else am I going to level up my Baking Skill if I don't grab all the points I can?

O o O o O​

The Training Grounds: South Perimeter

The sound of metal clashing against metal rang through the glade. Bunnie Rabbot was currently holding a heavy sparring pad, her robotic arm braced as Fiona Fox delivered a series of rapid-fire kicks.

"Good form, sugar!" Bunnie chirped, not even swaying under the impact. "You're puttin' a lot more 'oomph' into those pivots lately. Sally been givin' you tips?"

Fiona stepped back, wiping sweat from her brow. She looked over at the bench where Rotor's manual, Ballistics and Field Safety, sat atop her vest. "Something like that. She... she mentioned that if I'm going to rely on my legs for close-quarters due to carrying a weapon, I need to treat them like a calibrated delivery system. Less 'scrappy kid,' more 'precision strike.' And she actually listened when I told her why I prefer a sidearm over a staff."

Bunnie lowered the pad, her expression softening into something more vulnerable. "I'm glad to hear it, Fiona. Truly. To be honest, I was startin' to feel real awkward there for a while."

Fiona paused, tilting her head. "Awkward? Why?"

"Well," Bunnie sighed, glancing down at her robotic limb. "It was gettin' hard to listen to Rotor yell at you for wantin' a better energy rifle when I'm walkin' around with a Buster Cannon he built right into my arm. Felt... hypocritical, I guess. Like I was allowed to have the big guns 'cause I was 'one of the good guys,' but you weren't trusted with 'em. I hated seein' that wall between y'all."

She looked back up at Fiona with a bright, relieved smile.

"But seein' him hand you that manual and talk specs with you? It's like a weight's been lifted. If he's back to being pragmatic, then we can all just focus on the job instead of the lecture."

Antoine D'Coolette stood nearby, polishing the hilt of his saber. Usually, he'd be fretting about the "barbaric" nature of firearms or trying to assert a clumsy sense of authority, but today he just looked relaxed.

"It is a relief, is it not?" Antoine said, offering Fiona a surprisingly genuine smile. "The atmosphere in the Great Oak, it has become... how you say... breathable. I had feared there would be the 'awkwardness' forever between you and the Princess, but today she was most complimentary of your tactical stance."

"She apologized, Antoine," Fiona admitted, her voice lacking its usual defensive bite. "And Rotor offered to help me stabilize my power cells. It's hard to stay on edge when people are actually treating you like a teammate instead of a project."

Bunnie tossed the sparring pad aside and draped a friendly arm (her organic one) over Fiona's shoulders. "Well, it's about time. We've all been through too much to be huffing and puffing at each other over who carries a blaster. Especially since Rotor's the one who modified my arm and built the Buster Cannon into it! If Sally's cool, and Rotor's cool, then we're all just one big happy family again. In fact," she gestured vaguely toward the residential district, "I saw the girls headin' over to Vanilla's earlier. Supposedly for 'baking lessons.' I reckon if they can survive a kitchen together, we can survive anything."

Antoine nodded vigorously. "Precisely! Though, I do hope they are not being too adventurous. I have seen Nicole try to 'optimize' a toaster once. It did not end with the toast."

Fiona actually laughed—a short, surprised sound. "Baking? Sally and Nicole? That sounds like a disaster waiting to happen. But hey, if they're willing to risk a grease fire to clear the air, the least I can do is stop expecting a lecture every time I check my safety."

 

[Apollo_Man]

Geoffrey felt the blood drain from his face. The protocols he'd drafted, the way he'd tried to pull Elias away from "the children"—he hadn't been protecting the Prince; he had been blinding him.

"I... I thought I was being a professional," Geoffrey whispered.

Click to shrink...

I was expecting him to be in denial of this, like most every political figures in fictions nowadays. So imagine my surprise when not did he realised the magnitude of how royally screwed he and everyone he knows are, he also felt remorseful of it.

 

[Tangent]

I, NICOLE
Yet another amalgamated mind SI fic by Tangent!
In which I infect Nicole the Digital Lynx!
Oh, and give Sally and Rotor issues of their own…

O o O o O​

Location: The High Council Antechamber, Knothole Keep

The atmosphere in the antechamber was thick. Geoffrey St. John wasn't just suggesting a patrol change; he was suggesting a fundamental restructuring of the world's defense.

"It's a matter of legal clarity, Your Highness," Geoffrey said, standing tall. "The 'Freedom Fighters' are currently led by Princess Sally Alicia Acorn. As she is a member of the Royal Family, the organization is, by extension, an arm of the Crown's resistance. It is only proper that we formalize this. By absorbing the organization into the Royal Guard, we provide them with the legitimacy and the resources of the state."

Sir Charles Hedgehog nodded slowly from the side, looking at a map of the city's damaged power grid. "It would certainly make the logistics simpler, Geoffrey. If they're officially part of the Guard, I can authorize the use of the main foundries for their equipment repairs without jumping through three different hoops."

Elias picked up his pen, the weight of the crown feeling a little lighter at the prospect of "simplifying" his sister's chaotic life. "It does make sense. Sally's already the leader. Why not make it official?"

"Because I don't own the people I lead, Elias. And neither do you."

The voice was cold, sharp, and carried the weight of someone who had spent more time in the dirt than in a palace. Sally was tired of sitting aside and being spoken over as if the past ten years no longer mattered. Rotor was right beside her, with a data-tablet that was already scrolling through international treaty text. Geoffrey had been caught off guard by the previous day's decision to create an elected advisor position, and they had been expecting a pushback move like this or something similar from him.

So they had come to the council meeting prepared.

"Sally? We were just discussing the transition—" Elias started.

"You were discussing an annexation, Elias," Sally interrupted, stepping to the table. She ignored the chair and leaned over the map. "Geoffrey, your proposal assumes that because I lead the Freedom Fighters, the Freedom Fighters belong to the House of Acorn. That is a dangerous, arrogant delusion."

Geoffrey stiffened. "Princess, you are the recognized commander—"

"I am the commander of a coalition," Sally snapped. "Rotor, show them."

Rotor tapped the tablet, and a list of signatures appeared in the air.

"These are the Charters of the Allied Command," Rotor explained, his voice devoid of its usual jovial tone. "We have cells in Mercia, the Great Desert, the Dragon Kingdom, the North, and even Downunda. They all signed on to follow Sally because of her record, not her bloodline. Most of them aren't even Acorn citizens."

"If you 'absorb' the Freedom Fighters," Sally continued, looking Geoffrey dead in the eye, "you are unilaterally claiming authority over foreign nationals. You're telling the Wolf Pack and the 40 Thieves that they are now suddenly 'Royal Guard' recruits. Do you have any idea how fast our alliances will collapse when they realize the Kingdom of Acorn is trying to play Emperor?"

Uncle Chuck paused, his pen hovering over his schematics. "Wait... Lupe's people? They wouldn't be under our jurisdiction?"

"Exactly, Uncle Chuck," Sally said. "If the Crown takes sole control, we turn a global resistance movement into a 'Special Interest Group' for one specific kingdom. Our allies will see it as a betrayal. They'll think we used them to win our throne back just so we could rule over them."

Geoffrey narrowed his eyes. "But the security risk of an independent—"

"The 'security risk' is nothing compared to the risk of being a blind, isolated kingdom," Sally countered. "The Freedom Fighters are the only reason we have an early-warning system outside of this forest. If you try to own them, you break the trust that keeps those signals coming. You'll be sitting in a very 'legitimate' throne room while Snively builds a base three miles away, because our 'foreign' allies stopped talking to a government that tried to colonize them."

Elias looked at the signatures. He saw names of leaders from across Mobius—people who had never knelt to his father. He slowly set the pen down.

"The Freedom Fighters are a multinational organization," Elias whispered, the scope of the reality finally sinking in. "They aren't just 'my sister's team.' They're a sovereign entity."

"Precisely," Sally said. "They are the G.U.N. of this era. Independent, allied, and essential. And as long as I am the leader, they will stay that way. We are partners to the Crown, Elias. Not property."

Director Who adjusted his spectacles in the shadows. "A sobering perspective. It seems we were about to walk into a diplomatic minefield with our eyes closed. The proposal is dead, Geoffrey."

O o O o O​

I watched from inside my device at Sally's waist as the "Old Guard" scattered, the council meeting being over. I had been ready to flood the room with data, to argue until my processors overheated.

But I haven't even had to.

Sally had stood her ground not as a Princess, but as a Commander of a global force. She had protected the independence of her people—and by extension, the safety of the world—without me having to nudge her once.

I was proud of her and Rotor.

Really, I was.

But here they were, fixing issues that I was still trying to figure out how to advise them on without seeming like I was trying to manipulate things myself.

I mean, I sorta was, kinda, in that I was trying to figure out how to fix issues that absorbing the Outsider had brought to my attention, but I hadn't even figured out a plausible reason for how I had come across this knowledge yet!

Somehow, I don't think that "Sorry, I accidentally ate an extradimensional entity and now I know things" would be taken very well…

O o O o O​

Location: The Royal Balcony, Knothole Keep. Late Evening.

The village was quiet, the only sounds being the distant rustle of the Great Forest. Elias stood by the stone railing, watching the lights of the residential district flicker out one by one.

Sally stepped out beside him, not as a commander, but simply as a sister. She leaned her elbows on the cool stone, her gaze fixed on the small, humble building near the village center—the public school Elias had fought so hard to re-establish.

"It looks peaceful from up here," Sally said softly.

"It's the first thing I look at every morning," Elias admitted. "Seeing the children walk through those doors... it makes the paperwork feel like it's for something real." He glanced at her, noting the slight slump in her shoulders. "You're thinking about the tutors again."

Sally let out a dry, mirthless laugh. "Is it that obvious? I was looking at the curriculum for the senior students today. They're studying sociology, classical literature, and group ethics. Real, messy, collaborative learning." She sighed, tucking a loose tuft of hair behind her ear. "Meanwhile, I'm still being grilled on the 'Nuances of Mid-Continental Diplomacy' by a tutor who hasn't actually taught anything new since before Robotnik's coup. I'm being taught how to lead a world that doesn't exist anymore."

"You wanted to go," Elias stated. It wasn't a question.

"I ached to go," Sally whispered. "When you re-opened it, I had this brief, delusional hope that I could just... be a student. Be a normal girl alongside my friends as they got to be normal too. But 'Princess Sally Alicia Acorn' can't exactly sit in a crowded classroom and argue about history with the baker's son. It would be a 'security risk' or a 'distraction to the pedagogy'."

She looked down at her hands—hands that were currently stained with cookie flour and engine grease.

She'd have to see if either Vanilla or Rotor knew which cleaning agents were best for those, as clearly what she was being provided with in her royal suite wasn't cutting it.

"I felt so isolated, Elias. For months, I was trapped between being a royal symbol and a student in a cage. Ironically, I only felt like myself again when Robotnik's patrols intensified and I had to go back to being a Freedom Fighter. The war gave me the freedom that being a princess took away."

Elias placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "And now?"

Sally's expression softened, a genuine smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "Now is... different. This past week, helping Nicole? It's the most 'public school' experience I've ever had. We're learning things together. We're failing at baking, we're arguing about the physics of her ears, and we're just... existing. For the first time, I don't feel like I'm being 'tutored.' I feel like I'm growing."

She looked back at the schoolhouse, then at the Keep behind them.

"I think that's why I'm fighting so hard for this election, Elias. I don't want anyone else to feel that isolation. Not the villagers, not the reservists... and certainly not a digital girl who's trying to figure out how to taste a cookie."

Elias nodded, his gaze returning to the village. "Then we'll make sure the door stays open. For everyone."

 

[Navrin]

"I ached to go," Sally whispered. "When you re-opened it, I had this brief, delusional hope that I could just... be a student. Be a normal girl alongside my friends as they got to be normal too. But 'Princess Sally Alicia Acorn' can't exactly sit in a crowded classroom and argue about history with the baker's son. It would be a 'security risk' or a 'distraction to the pedagogy'."

Click to shrink...

So, it seems to me that Sally needs to be able to be somebody other than Sally Acorn. This seems like something that should be 100% possible given technologies demonstrated. For a really extreme version: Become a Robian and swap out parts so she looks, and sounds, very different. Applying holograms and a voice changer would work fine for some circumstances, as would normal physical disguises and learning to change her voice while disguised. (Skill, drugs, whatever) Given the kind of setting it seems to be I'm sure there are dozens of other options including body swapping and multipresence of some sort.

 

[Tangent]

This is the last of the chapters that had already existed on my Crazy-Big Ideas thread. Oddly enough, my muse has been overactive and I have six more ready to go already. Must've gotten into the sugar...

I, NICOLE
Yet another amalgamated mind SI fic by Tangent!
In which I infect Nicole the Digital Lynx!
Oh, and give Sally and Rotor issues of their own…

O o O o O​

Location: The Great Oak, The Great Forest, not too far from the Village of Knothole

The morning air in the Great Oak was crisp, but for the first time in months, it didn't feel heavy. Sally stood before her team—Sonic, Bunnie, Antoine, Rotor, and Fiona—not on a royal dais or official conference room, but on the same moss covered ground where they had planned their very first raids against Robotnik.

Nicole was present as well, her lynx form standing beside Sally, though her digital ears occasionally flickered with a faint, crystalline shimmer as she managed the power draw from her handheld unit. She wasn't currently solid, although that wasn't easily determined unless you noticed that her fur and clothes didn't move right for the light breeze blowing through the clearing.

"I called you all here because we've been living under a misunderstanding," Sally began, her voice steady and clear. "Ever since the Kingdom was restored, there's been an assumption—by the Council, by the public, and frankly, by us—that the Freedom Fighters are a department of the Acorn government. Yesterday, that assumption was put to the test when an advisor tried to officially annex us into the Royal Guard."

She paused, looking at each of them. She didn't have to tell any of them which advisor it had been as two of them were right here, Uncle Chuck hadn't caused them any problems, and of the remaining two, only one of them had been openly antagonistic to any of them.

And it hadn't been Director Who.

"I shut it down. And in doing so, I've re-established a fact that should never have been forgotten: the Freedom Fighters are a Sovereign Non-Governmental Organization. We are an international coalition of heroes without borders. We were never 'owned' by the Crown, and we never will be."

The Burden Lifted

The shift in the clearing was palpable. It was as if a thousand invisible "Propriety" memos had just been shredded.

For Sonic, it was as if the weight of his stripped knighthood suddenly transformed from a mark of shame into a badge of total liberty.

For Fiona, the "thug" labels and the pressure to conform to royal "etiquette" vanished. She wasn't a problematic subject; she was a specialized operative with a colorful background. And more legitimacy than that Federation pet, Rouge.

"This means the constraints are gone," Sally continued. "The 'red tape' the Council had been using to slow us down? It doesn't apply. We don't report to the High Council. We report to the Freedom Fighter Accord—which means we report to each other and our global allies."

Sally stepped forward, her expression softening but remaining professional.

"But with this clarity comes a choice. Now that we are officially separate entities, you have to decide where your heart lies. The Kingdom is going to build a formal Royal Guard. It will be stable, it will be focused on local defense, and it will be bound by the laws and protocols of the Acorn government. It is a noble path for those who want to protect their home specifically. There is no shame in taking this route and defending our home, our families, and our friends."

She looked at the team.

"The Freedom Fighters, however, will remain an NGO. We will be mobile, we will be international, and we will be focused on the global threat—Snively, the Eggman remnants, and whoever comes next. We aren't bound by borders, but we also aren't protected by the 'safety' of a government budget or royal immunity. We are volunteers."

Sonic was the first to speak, a wide, cocky grin breaking across his face. "So, you're saying I'm officially a 'Free Agent' again? No more 'Sir Sonic' lectures? No more waiting for a Council vote to go fast? No more being told that I can't go rescue someone or do some mission just because it's across a border?"

"Exactly," Sally smiled. "You're just a hedgehog with a mission."

"Then I'm in," Sonic said, leaning back against the wall. "I was never much for the fancy titles anyway. I'd rather be a Freedom Fighter than a statue in a courtyard."

Fiona looked at her boots, then at Sally. The defensive wall she usually kept up seemed to have a massive crack in it. "So, if I stay... I'm not a 'reformed criminal' on a leash? I'm an operative?"

"You're a teammate, Fiona," Rotor said, stepping up beside her. "And as the Liaison, I'll be the one making sure the Council knows the difference."

Fiona nodded, a small, genuine smirk tugging at her lips. "I think I can live with that. Better than being some Advisor's 'project'."

"Heck, Sally," Bunnie put in. "I'm a Freedom Fighter through and through. You know that. Heh, I bet Uncle Beau would be relieved I ain't workin' for the crown anyway."

Antoine looked at the others, then shook his head as he gathered his courage to speak. "Alas, but my heart, it is torn in twain. For I love both so dearly. You all know that it has long been a dream of mine to be following in my father's footsteps. I was to be accepted into the guard officially once I graduated, but… You are my friends. How can I be abandoning you all when your hearts and your honor shines so brightly! No! For freedom I have fought, and for freedom I shall continue to fight! I stand with you, my friends! The Guard can wait until the world is truly secure."

Nicole's form shimmered brightly for a second before stabilizing. "I have already updated the NGO manifests on our part of the Kingdom's intranet. The legal firewall is active. As of this morning, our resource pool is officially independent. We are no longer 'assets' to be allocated; we are a force to be reckoned with."

Sally nodded. She still had to arrange for a summit with Lupe and the other regional leaders, but that was feeling far more manageable now that her own team was standing on solid ground.

"I'll be leaving for a Coalition Summit as soon as we can agree on a time and location," Sally said. "This isn't something that can be done without a face-to-face, and the only worldwide network remains the Empire's Eggnet. And we are not relying on any communications on that being secure. But until then, we have an election to watch."

"Let's see how the new 'People's Advisor' handles a world where he doesn't get to tell us what to do," Sonic snarked.

"Now, Sonic, be fair," Nicole chided. "The People's Advisor position hasn't even been filled yet, so whoever wins hasn't even had a chance to try to tell you what to do yet."

"Yes they have," Sonic countered with a smirk. "All three candidates try to tell me what to do all the time. I don't see why that would change if any of them wins or loses."

O o O o O​

Location: Geoffrey's Office, Knothole Keep.

The office of the Royal Secret Service was quiet—too quiet. Not all that long ago, before the King fell into his coma, there had always been the hum of activity, the clatter of gear, and the sharp, professional banter of his team. Now, there was only the sound of the wind whistling through the empty halls of his department and the steady, rhythmic ticking of a clock that seemed to mark the seconds of Geoffrey St. John's political decline.

Geoffrey sat at his desk, staring at the empty chair across from him. It was usually where Hershey sat.

He closed his eyes, but the memory of the "EndGame" incident replayed with vivid, cruel clarity. He could still see the horror in Hershey's eyes when the mask came off—the realization that he had used her trauma, her loyalty, and her very sight to turn her into a weapon against the Princess she loved. She hadn't spoken to him in days, and when she did, her voice was a cold, jagged shard of ice. She didn't just disagree with him; she loathed the man he had become to "save" the Kingdom.

He looked down at the documents on his desk. It was a tally of failures he couldn't spin.

He had gambled that stripping Sonic of his knighthood would force the hedgehog to crawl back for legitimacy. Instead, Sally had used that very move to justify their independence. Sonic, Bunnie, Rotor—even the "loyal" Antoine—had chosen the NGO over the Guard. He had no heroes left to command.

His dream of an "Instant Free Army" was dead. Without the Freedom Fighters as a core, the Royal Guard was just a collection of eager but unpolished volunteers and reservists like Hamlin. They were brave, yes, but they weren't a strike force.

Even Director Who wasn't just a rival anymore; he was a sentry. The Director's open distrust meant every requisition, every shadow-op, and every whisper in Elias's ear was being cross-referenced and vetted. The "Power Behind the Throne" couldn't breathe with a master spy watching his every move.

Geoffrey's hand drifted to a sealed file regarding King Maximillian's condition.

"I did this for you, Sire," he whispered to the empty room.

Max was the only one who truly understood the need for a strong, centralized monarchy. Elias was too soft, too willing to listen to Sally's talk of "coalitions" and "sovereign partners." If Max were awake, he would have signed the annexation decree without hesitation. He would have understood that the Freedom Fighters were a tool of the state.

But the King remained in a coma, a silent witness to the dismantling of the old ways. And Sally—the girl he had once thought he could "guide"—or even eliminate if need be—had outplayed him at a game he thought he'd mastered before she could walk. She hadn't just beaten him; she had changed the rules of Mobian law to ensure he could never play again.

With Director Who all but retired, Geoffrey St, John was the most senior officer in the Kingdom, yet he had never been more powerless. He had sought to "unify" the world under the Acorn banner, but all he had succeeded in doing was making the Kingdom of Acorn a small, isolated player in a global game led by a teenage Princess and her pack of chaotic friends.

He stood up and walked to the window, watching the flickering lights of Knothole below. Tomorrow, the people would vote for an Advisor. They would talk about "the future."

Geoffrey St. John just wondered if he had any place left in it.

 

[Tangent]

So, it seems to me that Sally needs to be able to be somebody other than Sally Acorn. This seems like something that should be 100% possible given technologies demonstrated. For a really extreme version: Become a Robian and swap out parts so she looks, and sounds, very different. Applying holograms and a voice changer would work fine for some circumstances, as would normal physical disguises and learning to change her voice while disguised. (Skill, drugs, whatever) Given the kind of setting it seems to be I'm sure there are dozens of other options including body swapping and multipresence of some sort.

Click to shrink...

Robo-Robotnik: "I did that! I gave her a whole new body as Metal Sally! And do you know what that little ingrate did? She went right back to being a Mobian as soon as the Super Genesis Wave gave her an excuse! I SPEANT EIGHT UNINTERUPTED HOURS UPGRADING HER! Unbelievable!"

Sally: "YOU NEVER SHUT OFF MY PAIN RECEPTORS!"

 

[Tangent]

I, NICOLE
Yet another amalgamated mind SI fic by Tangent!
In which I infect Nicole the Digital Lynx!
Oh, and give Sally and Rotor issues of their own…

O o O o O​

Location: Knothole Village Square – Election Night

The sun had long since dipped below the horizon, but Knothole was far from dark. Orange lanterns hung from every low-hanging branch, casting a warm, flickering glow over the gathered crowd. The air was thick with the scent of pine and anticipation. For the first time since the restoration, the people weren't gathering to hear a royal decree; they were gathering to hear their own voice.

At the edge of the clearing, near the workshop, the Freedom Fighters stood in a loose semi-circle. They were packed for travel, their gear checked and double-checked for the journey to the Coalition Summit.

A roar of approval suddenly erupted from the center of the square. The village elder stepped back, and Hamlin stepped forward onto a repurposed supply crate. His chest was puffed out, a thick scroll of parchment clutched in his hand like a baton.

"The people have spoken!" Hamlin's voice boomed, carrying a weight of authority he hadn't possessed twenty minutes ago. "We've spent too long waiting for others to decide our safety. Starting tonight, Knothole looks after its own!"

He didn't waste time with a victory lap. Seeing Sally and her team near the workshop, he hopped down and marched toward them, his steps heavy with purpose.

"Princess," Hamlin said, nodding to Sally. His eyes flicked to the travel packs on the ground. "Good. You're already geared up. As the elected People's Advisor, I've got my first set of directives ready. We're going to need a permanent twenty-four-hour sentry on the North Path, a full audit of the medical stores, and I want the Tornado grounded for local maintenance until we've cleared the village's winter fuel quota."

The team went silent. Sonic stopped tossing a Power Ring, catching it with a sharp snap. Fiona leaned against a support beam, a dangerous smirk playing on her lips as she waited for the explosion.

It didn't come. Sally didn't scowl, and she didn't pull rank. She actually stepped closer, looking over the top of Hamlin's scroll with genuine interest.

"Hamlin, congratulations on your win," Sally said warmly. "And honestly? Those are excellent ideas. The North Path has been a blind spot for weeks, and a medical audit is long overdue. The village should be prioritizing its winter fuel before the first frost."

Hamlin blinked, his aggressive stance faltering. He had clearly prepared for a fight, and the lack of resistance left him stumbling. "Oh. Well. Good. Then we'll get Sonic started on those patrols at dawn. He can move the fuel crates while he's at it."

"That's where the misunderstanding is, Hamlin," Sally said, her tone professional and patient. "Those are vital Kingdom tasks. You should absolutely have the Royal Guard and the Reservists implement them immediately. I'll even have Nicole send over my personal notes on the North Path terrain to help your team get started."

Hamlin's brow furrowed. "The Guard? Princess, I'm talking to you. You're the ones with the specialized gear and the speed."

"We are a Sovereign NGO, Hamlin," Rotor stepped in, leaning over a map of the continent spread out on a nearby crate. "We're leaving for the Coalition Summit tomorrow. We aren't the Kingdom's police force or its logistical department. We're an international strike team. If we stay here to audit bandages and walk the North Path, we're neglecting the global threats that could wipe Knothole off the map before winter even hits."

"But... I'm the People's Advisor!" Hamlin sputtered, waving the scroll. "The people want safety!"

"And you should give it to them," Sally encouraged, her voice steady. "The Royal Guard is still being filled and trained, Hamlin. This is actually an excellent time for you to see to it that their training matches the specific needs of the people. If you want a sentry on that path, you don't want a Freedom Fighter who might be called away to the Great Desert at a moment's notice. You want a Guard whose primary duty is the safety of this soil."

Sonic chuckled, leaning back against the workshop wall. "Look at it this way, Ham-bone: if you're the one in charge of the village's safety, why would you want to rely on a bunch of 'chaotic' volunteers like us? Build your own team. Do it your way. We'll be busy making sure the rest of the world doesn't burn down while you're doing it."

The reality finally hit. Hamlin looked at the scroll in his hand—the list of demands he had intended to "order" the heroes to follow. It wasn't a list of commands for Sally; it was his own to-do list.

"Right," Hamlin muttered, more to himself than them. The heat had left his voice, replaced by the daunting realization of the work ahead. "The training grounds at dawn. I'll need to speak with the quartermaster about the sentry gear. If we're doing this, we're doing it right."

"That's the spirit, Hamlin," Sally smiled encouragingly. "You have the right ideas—you just need to get them to the right people to get them done."

Hamlin stood there for a moment, looking at the Princess, then at the others. They weren't excluding him nor dismissing his efforts—they were counting on him to do the job he had run for. He straightened his vest, gripped his scroll tighter, and turned back toward the village square. He walked slower this time, already mentally calculating how many Reservists he could pull for the morning watch.

"Well played, Sal," Sonic said, walking over to shoulder his pack. "You just gave him the keys to the city and told him he has to mow the lawn himself."

"I gave him a job, Sonic," Sally replied, watching the new Advisor disappear into the crowd. "And if he does it well, we won't have to worry about the 'home front' while we're out there."

She turned to Nicole, whose form shimmered in the lantern light. "Is the Tornado ready?"

"Flight systems are green," Nicole confirmed, her voice holding a hint of satisfaction. "The NGO firewall is holding, the legal manifests are filed, and the Kingdom's internal politics are no longer our drag coefficient. We are clear for departure."

"Good," Sally nodded. "Then…"

"The only things we need are for word to actually get back to us on where the other leaders want to meet, and for you to tell your brother about the mission," Nicole interjected with a wry smile.

"Okay, maybe I was getting a bit ahead of myself," Sally admitted.

O o O o O​

It took a few days for word to get back to us from the other leaders on where to meet for the big face-to-face with everyone represented. Before it had only ever been two or three leaders at most in one location to minimize the risk of a decapitation strike by Dr. Robotnik, but this early into Snively's reign as his uncle's heir it was agreed that it was time for everyone to come to the table.

As for the location of the table?

There were various suggestions, but most of them caused some sort of conflict with somebody.

Ultimately though, it was agreed to try to have this meeting on Angel Island, hosted by a truly neutral party: Archimedes the Fire Ant.

Now all we had to do was convince Archimedes and Knuckles to actually let us meet on the big floaty rock of questionable physics.

Yay.

I was having a hard time just dealing with the reality of my own sparkly magical nonsense, I don't need to be introduced to a well of Chaos Energy on top of that.

The only upside I was seeing for myself was that maybe, since I was apparently at least a somewhat magical being now, I might be able to commune with Tikal and Chaos and get some advice on how to give advice after having accidentally eaten an entity from so far beyond time and space that our little section of the multiverse had just been fiction to them.

Or, you know, maybe get some advice on my persistent feelings of existential dread whenever i thought about that too much.

O o O o O​

The long-range communicator in Rotor's workshop hummed to life, connected to the signal boosters Rotor had installed to pierce the atmospheric interference surrounding Angel Island. When Knuckles' image finally resolved, he was sitting on the edge of the Master Emerald's plinth, looking more tired than suspicious.

"Sally," he said, a small, genuine ghost of a smile touching his face. "It's been a while. Usually, when you call, it means the world is ending or Sonic has finally talked himself into a hole he can't jump out of. Which is it?"

Sally chuckled, leaning against the console as she adjusted the frequency. "Neither, fortunately. At least, not yet. How are things on the big rock, Knuckles?"

"Quiet. Which is how I like it," he replied, leaning back on his hands. "But I get the feeling you're about to change that."

"I am," Sally admitted, her expression turning serious. "The Coalition is finally ready for a full summit. We need a place that's safe from Snively's reach and truly neutral. I've looked at every map, Knuckles, and the only place that fits is Angel Island. But I know how you feel about the Shrine being crowded."

Knuckles sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Sal, you know I'd help you in a heartbeat, but a summit? If I'm playing host to a dozen world leaders, who's watching the Emerald? I can't be in two places at once."

"That's actually why I'm calling," Sally said. "I'm not asking you to be the host. I'm asking Archimedes. He's the most neutral party I know, and he has the temperament for a diplomatic circus. If he takes the lead, you can stay right where you are—keeping the Master Emerald secure and acting as the island's ultimate deterrent. You won't have to deal with the politics at all."

Knuckles went quiet, considering it. "Archie does like to hear himself talk," he muttered, though there was no malice in it. "And he's been complaining that I don't listen to his lectures enough lately. Giving him a room full of leaders to 'guide' might actually be doing me a favor."

"There's one more thing," Sally added softly. "I want to hold the meeting in Haven—the village where Elias and my mother stayed. My brother is a good man, Knuckles, but he's lived a very sheltered life. He nearly let the old royal council talk him into a terrible move because he doesn't quite understand the world outside of his books yet. I want the other leaders to see the humble roots of where he grew up. It'll help them see him as a person, not just a title."

Knuckles softened, his expression turning empathetic. He knew better than anyone what it was like to be a "leader" thrust into a role without being fully prepared.

"Haven is a good choice," Knuckles agreed. "It's far enough from the Shrine that I won't have to smell their coffee, but close enough that I'll know if anyone steps out of line. If Archimedes is willing to play the 'Great Mediator,' I'll allow the landing."

"Thank you, Knuckles. I owe you one."

"You owe me several," he smirked. "But between us? I'd rather deal with your diplomats than one of Sonic's 'accidental' visits any day."

This chapter is dedicated to those of us who remember that Sally Acorn somehow knew Knuckles from her childhood without either Sonic of Knuckles ever meeting each other. Despite the fact that Sonic and Sally also already knew each other by that point.

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[Apollo_Man]

Oh boy, more chappies! Thanks, twin

 

[Tangent]

I, NICOLE
Yet another amalgamated mind SI fic by Tangent!
In which I infect Nicole the Digital Lynx!
Oh, and give Sally and Rotor issues of their own…

O o O o O​

Location: The Royal Secret Service Annex – A camouflaged loft above the Knothole Archives

The air in the loft was heavy with the smell of old ink and damp wood.

Geoffrey St. John didn't need to be a technical genius to know the noose was tightening. He just had to look at the screen.

The files—the ones he had buried under "Royal Privilege" and "National Security"—were flagged in a clinical, bright blue. There were no signs that they had been hacked by a brute-force attack; they had just been accessed and opened by someone with the correct authorizations. Someone with a clearance higher than his own had simply walked into the digital archives and started an audit.

"Who," Geoffrey hissed.

Director Who wasn't a "kid" playing hero. He was a veteran of the old school, and he was currently dissecting the wreckage of the EndGame reports.

Geoffrey knew his defense was paper-thin. He had always maintained that he was merely a victim of Robotnik's reach, but the audit was digging deeper. It was looking at the logistics. It was looking at how Drago Wolf—a known Empire asset—had managed to secure a high-end RSS hypnotic mask and a specialized stealth suit without a single alarm being raised in the Secret Service command.

He didn't know how Who had bypassed his encryption so quickly, but apparently the old spy had kept better tabs on tradecraft advances than Geoffrey had credited. The results were damning. The forensic trail didn't just point to Drago's suspicious acquisition of RSS tools that he should never have had access to; it pointed to a deliberate "blind spot" in the RSS command structure that Geoffrey himself had engineered to "remove" the Sonic variable.

Granted, Geoffrey had not known that the frame-up job would involve an actual attempt to kill Princess Sally, and he liked to think that he would have made appropriate adjustments had he caught onto that bit, but the world didn't run on 'what-ifs.' He had to live with the fact that his plan had almost gotten the Princess killed.

It hadn't, and he could live with that, but he would really have preferred that his part in things not come into the light.

Then he saw the entry that made his blood run cold: Deposition Scheduled: Agent Hershey the Cat. Room 4B.

Hershey.

She was his subordinate and his partner—the woman who had been the ultimate victim of the EndGame plot. She had spent weeks looking at him with a mixture of suspicion and suppressed rage. She had never truly forgiven the "glitch" that led to her almost killing the Princess, and she had never fully bought Geoffrey's excuse that they were all just pawns of a dead doctor.

If Who sat her down and showed her the technical logs—proving that the "Sonic" suit's augmented reality goggles were modified RSS hardware and that Geoffrey had personally signed off on the "disposal" of those exact components weeks before the event—Hershey wouldn't just testify. She would ensure he never reached the courtroom.

The Kingdom was no longer a place of convenient shadows. It was becoming transparent, driven by a relentless, clinical logic that left no room for his brand of "patriotism."

"Fine," Geoffrey whispered, slamming a drawer shut. "Let them have their committees. Let the Prince play at being a King."

He didn't pack medals or mementos. He grabbed a field kit, a sidearm, and survival rations. He didn't need to be a genius to see the writing on the wall. Outside, the Tornado was warming up, its engine a low thrum that spoke of a future he was no longer a part of.

Sally was flying off to lead the world. Geoffrey was crawling into the dirt.

He slipped out the back ladder, avoiding the lanterns of the village. He headed straight into the Great Forest, toward the deep caves where the fractured wizard was suspected to live. If the "Reasonable" world wanted to put him on trial for the treason he'd hidden behind a badge, he would find a world that wasn't reasonable at all.

As the Tornado took flight, its lights disappearing over the forest canopy, Geoffrey St. John vanished into the dark—a fugitive from a world that had finally stopped believing his lies.

O o O o O​

Who let out a quiet sigh as he released the breath he had been holding.

He was still very good at certain parts of his craft. Stealth for one. But his combat days were long past him and confronting Geoffrey St. John right now would have gotten him hospitalized or killed, and maybe even resulted in the death of Hershey soon after.

Who hadn't even had the time to log out when he had heard the skunk enter the room. He barely had time to hide.

And now the lad had run off into the trees for parts unknown.

Which was perhaps the most damning evidence of all…

O o O o O​

I tried not to think too much about the logistics and the implications for the aerodynamic physics involved in five Mobians flying a two-seat biplane to a floating island in the sky that was for all practical intents and purposes orbiting Mobius at an extremely low altitude for a rock that must weigh roughly 400 billion tons.

And had several biomes in close proximity to each other that had no business being adjacent to one another without causing major issues. All while maintaining a breathable envelope of air.

Sparkly.

Magical.

Nonsense.

It had been much easier to not think about such things before I had fully awakened as an AI with a manifestable body basically made of nothing but sparkly magical nonsense itself. Nobody had ever asked me how Angel Island was at all viable, so I never thought about it. No instructions, no input, no calculations.

Four.

Hundred.

BILLION!

Tons.

Four hundred billion tons with a very low orbit that carried it across every bit of Mobius between the arctic and antarctic circles.

Nowhere habitable on Mobius was safe.

Eventually, no matter where you happened to be on the surface, Angel Island would be just floating in the sky overhead as if physics were just a suggestion.

And the Ancient Echidna had thought that this was a good idea.

I didn't want to think about it.

I couldn't help but to think about it.

The Master Emerald contained so much power that, for all practical intents and purposes to any observer on Mobius, it was effectively an infinite power source.

No wonder wars were fought over it.

And here I was, basically riding along and hoping to have a chat with Tikal and maybe Chaos so I could ask them for advice on how to give advice when the source of that advice is an Outsider who was technically older than the universe.

From a certain point of view.

Fuck my life…

And this chapter is dedicated to those of us who remember just how fucked up Geoffrey St. John's moral compass and loyalty to the the idea of the Acorn Throne are...

Really though, the guy was presented as being an active Agent from before the coup, meaning that he's at least twice Sally's age, and he was one of Sonic's romantic rivals? And for someone who "loved" the Kingdom of Acorn, he had no qualms about trying to isolate Elias so he could try to be the power behind the throne, and he certainly played fast and loose with a False Flag op that nearly resulted in the death of a girl who was not only a princess of that kingdom but apparently also a romantic interest? What were the writers smoking?

Oh yeah, and for those of you wondering why I have (or rather had) Geoffrey St. John be the current head of the Royal Secret Service instead of Director Who - Who is old and well past his prime. He's still very good at what he can still do, but he's well past his prime. As hilariously frightened as I have Fiona Fox be of his capabilities in I, Fiona, Who would actually fair poorly in direct combat against any of the younger crowd. Which, from Who's perspective, definitely includes Geoffrey St. John. If he hadn't hid when he did, this would have been the last anyone would ever have seen of the old owl.

And possibly the last anyone would have seen of Hershey soon after...

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[Navrin]

Angle Island

Click to shrink...

I believe you want "Angel" here.

"Geoffrey means well, but he's recreating that same vacuum. He's trying to put you in a box where you only hear from the Secret Service. If you let him monopolize your time, you're going to be just as disconnected as Dad was."

Click to shrink...

Given how awful Geoffrey St. John apparently is, why did Sally give this reassurance? Does she actually believe he has good intentions, even if his methods are absolutely awful? Did she not believe it was safe to give a more honest assessment? Did she happen to not keep knowledge of his more sketchy actions?

 

[Tangent]

I believe you want "Angel" here.

Click to shrink...

This was a bear to find without the rest of the paragraph for context. But fixed...

Given how awful Geoffrey St. John apparently is, why did Sally give this reassurance? Does she actually believe he has good intentions, even if his methods are absolutely awful? Did she not believe it was safe to give a more honest assessment? Did she happen to not keep knowledge of his more sketchy actions?

Click to shrink...

Geoffrey St. John has always been presented as a man who has been gifted with being just charismatic enough to get himself out of the trouble he causes, and for the longest time Sally had been burdened with the Rose-Colored Glasses bias that let her value the "good" he was supposedly trying to do over the problems his actions and activities introduced into any given situation. As of chapter 3, the Rose-Colored Glasses effect on Sally is still wearing off.

 

[Navrin]

This was a bear to find without the rest of the paragraph for context. But fixed...

Click to shrink...

Ah, sorry. Was expecting you to use a search function since it's a non-repeated text string. And maybe click on the quoted bit to get to the specific chapter if needed. Will try to remember to include more context later.

Geoffrey St. John has always been presented as a man who has been gifted with being just charismatic enough to get himself out of the trouble he causes, and for the longest time Sally had been burdened with the Rose-Colored Glasses bias that let her value the "good" he was supposedly trying to do over the problems his actions and activities introduced into any given situation. As of chapter 3, the Rose-Colored Glasses effect on Sally is still wearing off.

Click to shrink...

So she genuinely believed in what she believed his intentions were. Thank you, good to know.