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Waves wash over the red and black chassis before hitting the shore.
Green LEDs light up as Omega’s front-end-processor kicks back online after humidity levels around the most sensitive functions register safe. Stiffly, the metal body rights itself, water pouring from crevasses.
Starting self-calibration, Omega analyses that 58% of his systems are currently damaged or out of commission, namely everything electrically ignited in his armament. He kicks off his core heating and fans before he can even begin to feel exasperated over it. Now he needs t-
The thought process is cut short by an alarm because his fans didn’t spur smoothly into action as intended.
Instead, they’re spluttering and coughing up water. With embarrassment and stilted awkwardness he wouldn’t let anyone catch him wallowing in, Omega turns them off, spinning his torso around hoping the centrifugal force is enough to dislocate the misplaced liquid. Restarting the fans, an alert informs of an external obstruction in one of the propellers, possibly seaweed or debris from the rig. Omega lets it be for now, cutting off the power to not damage the blades further, running his fans at a manageable 60% capacity while he proceeds with calibration.
~~~
The mission had been simple; to infiltrate a nautical Eggman base posing as an oil rig under a subsidiary belonging to one of the doctor’s numerous aliases. G.U.N. had taken its sweet time with bureaucratic nonsense because the rig was on Adabat’s unofficially claimed waters, bordering the coast of The Eastern Archipelago.
After waiting around uselessly for a few weeks, Team Dark was finally given a green light on the case:
They were dropped off at the coast of one of the sovereign islands, from where Shadow was able to teleport them to the base with the Chaos Emerald in their current possession. (Technically in G.U.N.’s possession but Rouge disagrees: “A taxpayer right”.)
Omega, of course, approves of splurging in G.U.N. assets, emeralds included. But what he doesn’t approve of is the nature of their mission; recon (useless, boring), opposed to immediate destruction of the Eggman facility (the fun and correct option). He had voiced his displeasure, but the G.U.N. official deploying them on the case had been especially persistent hammering in the risk of environmental hazards if something happened to the rig.
Being aware of this, Omega wants to emphasize that he’s innocent in the following events:
While a cover-up, the base had still been functioning as an oilrig. The rig was fully automated, with no organics maintaining it, which meant that the place was a, quote-on-quote, OSHA nightmare. Teleporting in, they were hit in the face with hydrogen sulfide gas; a toxic and corrosive compound Omega’s sensors detected promptly.
He didn’t have to inform his teammates because Shadow and Rouge’s olfactory systems picked it up instantly as well, their faces crunching up at the apparent unpleasant fragrance resembling rotten eggs.
Of course.
“Oh sweet Gaia, that’s nasty- Let’s get this over with so we can get the hell out of here”, Rouge’s eyes began to water.
Toxicity aside, hydrogen sulfide gas is most notably highly flammable. Omega’s mood soured as he was inhibited from taking advantage of its explosive potential, instead having to ensure not to use any of his artillery to avoid accidental ignition. “IT WOULD NOT BE ACCIDENTAL!” “Yeah yeah – you get what I mean, smart guy.”
Even his thrusters were out of the question, which Shadow felt the need to make a snarky remark about – Omega heavily considered throwing him off the rig – Rouge pointed out Shadow couldn’t use his skates either, and the hedgehog had the gall to turn away from Omega’s unimpressed look.
The concentration of the gas was higher than expected, naturally shortening their mission timeframe as Rouge’s non-ultimate biological makeup was not built for prolonged exposure. Her systems would begin to take more severe damage in 10 minutes – longer, if she only stuck to the highest levels and open areas as the dense gas had accumulated to the lowest floors. They were “on the clock”, so to speak, so they had to be quick in their decisions:
Rouge’s healthy sense of biological self-preservation, “I’m not risking my health for this whack-ass mission”, cemented her position on the open deck.
Meanwhile, Omega did not have the build to effectively traverse steep staircases and tight corridors, so after a brisk argument, and a calculated estimate from the robot, Shadow ventured onto the lowest levels to look for a command center with 5 minutes on the clock.
(Omega is certain Shadow could survive for much longer, if not indefinitely. But neither Rouge or him wanted Shadow to teleport in blindly, for the hybrid to only end up in a pocket with lethal gas concentrations and knock himself out. – Rouge didn’t want Shadow to try his luck like that, and Omega simply didn’t want to be stuck on this rig without getting to blow it up for no longer than necessary.)
He was simulating doing just that as he scanned through the –1. deck’s numerous halls. The entire floor was jarringly empty, bar the boiler chamber with its numerous pressurized kettles. Having to trudge the dim, steely corridors would’ve been processor-numbingly boring if Eggman’s architectural design wasn’t so grating on his visual processor. It actually evoked visceral disgust in Omega.
The awkward cabling on the floor, leaking ventilation shafts of the over-abused systems – everything possibly shiny tainted by accumulated soot due to lack of upkeep. It was sterile only in its lack of life, somehow crammed despite being empty. Barely illuminated by the LEDs of gauge meters or simple automatons of the various mechanisms. The only noise being the distant hissing and pumping of the seabed drills, reverberating through the entire rig. The sound of air conditioning blasting and water drippling from the pipes where oxidative gases had corroded through an inadequate meld job. Unidentified liquid boiling in the industrial kettles.
The bubbling bothered Omega the most: He wanted to punch through the barrel to empty it of its contents just to make the aggravating noise stop. Because it was somehow filling the empty room, covering the drill thumps, yet not the air conditioning. And the dim lights did nothing to hide the neglect of the whole place, but it was still all-too-dark, but not too dark where Omega couldn’t see Eggman’s logos plastering every surface and it was majorly pissing him off.
And that’s when the alarm blared to life.
Shadow must’ve triggered it as Omega does not believe Rouge would ever accidentally manage that.
He heard commotion from the deck above, trailed by her distant voice. Rouge hadn’t tapped into the communications, meaning she must’ve been caught off guard, too busy dealing with what could only the base’s defenses. Omega was down the corridor in a respectable 4.2 seconds but he was interjected by a common Eggshooter behind the next corner.
Omega could’ve easily ignored the measly defense bot, or closed the gap and simply crushed it, but it didn’t matter in the end; for the inferior model’s sorry excuse for an AI couldn’t conclude that firing would ignite the moderate amount of hydrogen sulfide gas present. That it would cause a dangerous flashover. The fire reaching the corridor and rooms behind Omega in an instant. Rooms with oil in pressurized barrels, some of them definitely leaking.
There was an explosion.
The structure collapsed.
~~~
Omega’s yet to reboot all of his sensors to avoid short circuiting in them but his optics are as sharp as ever. Reorienting himself out of the water and onto the sand – slower than he’d like to – the E-series begins to observe his surroundings. Turning on his Chaos energy sensors first and foremost to run a 50m radius scan, he gauges for a familiar Chaos signature.
>Shadow: not detected nearby.
Instead, he sees Rouge lying in the shoreline approximately 38.7 meters away. Her body looks to be completely still, and Omega curses his waterlogged thrusters as he begins to trot towards her. Except, the sand gives away more than he anticipated, and he almost falls before he manages to recalibrate his gyroscope. He curses the sand too.
Optics trained on Rouge; Omega boots up his thermal scanners as he approaches.
>Core body heat: 34.7°c.
Alarmingly low – even for bat mobians. Omega speeds up to a sprint. He runs his other sensors one by one as they turn online to gauge for Rouge’s vitals.
Not sensing a pulse with superficial sensors. Deeper scan required.
The robot nearly stumbles when he breaks in the sand before Rouge and immediately kneels down to assess her body, coarse stones grinding in his joints from the violent drop. Her body is lying at an odd angle on its back. Organics should not be this still. She’s soaking wet and has sand sticking to her... everywhere. (67% coverage.) If conscious; she wouldn’t tolerate her current state, having vocalized her frustrations with the substance on beach excursions in the past.
Her respiration is disabled. Omega immediately rolls Rouge onto her side, tipping her chin out. Small amounts of water dribble from the corner of her mouth. The paleness of her lips is noticeable even from under the faded lipstain, her hypothermia unnervingly visible. The color doesn’t fit her.
He places his claws on her upper chest:
Failing to detect any electric activity from the sinoatrial node.
>Conclusion: Her atrial muscles are disabled.
>Result: No pulse.
This must be rectified.
Omega’s cooling fans spur into action automatically as he recalls more information on organic medical care from his databanks. He quickly puts his other hand on Rouge’s head, noting a bruise in her crown – most likely acquired head trauma in the explosions, causing her to fall unconscious before falling into the water – but dismissing it for the time being. Getting an electroencephalogram is more pressing at this time.
>Brain electrical activity registered. Good.
He takes Rouge’s ear between his digits for another scan.
>Blood oxygen saturation: 90%. Critically low oxygen. Diagnosis: hypaxia.
No pulse to transfer even the minimal amount of oxygen to the brain.
>Conclusion: Begin immediate cardiopulmonary resuscitation to reduce chances of brain damage.
//
>Directives…Subfolder…Active objective:
“Uphold Rouge’s brain activity”
And:
“Restart Rouge’s heart”
//
Omega turns Rouge on her back, remembering to be mindful of her wings between his swift motions. Critical oxygen levels. His claws rip through the front of his teammate’s uniform with ease, giving him proper access to her sternum. She requires oxygen. With a singular joint of his finger, he begins approximately 5cm deep compressions at 120/min. The standard “CPR” procedure for drowning victims includes rescue breaths to restock oxygen in the blood. He fumes that he has to slow down to a 113/min rate to guarantee full re-expansion of her ribcage. Unable to execute rescue breaths. He registers a hairline fracture in Rouge’s 4th rib and almost stops the compression process before he can dismiss the alert. Bones will heal. Unable to provide her with oxygen.
Her heart must restart for the respiratory reflex to kick in. Complication: complete asystole is not correctable by an electric impulse. She requires oxygen.
...
>Variables to consider for executing defibrillation:
Rouge is still drenched in sea water with saline concentration of 36 parts per 1000 and 8.1 pH.
The conductive capabilities of the moisture will make centralizing and looping the current difficult, even hazardous, possibly causing burns in larger areas or even causing the current loop back to chassis unpredictably.
He dials up his ventilation and redirects his functional fans to speed up Rouge’s drying progress, dismissing his CPU’s overheating warnings.
She has multiple points of direct skin contact with metal; Including: uniform, jewelry, communicator. With the calculated resistance, voltage over even the minimum needed 250 (approx.), would cause 2nd to 3rd degree burns.
Without disrupting the compressions, Omega goes to remove Rouge’s communicator with his unoccupied hand, careful of her arteries as he fiddles around the clasp. Have her wrists always been this thin? (His cameras seem to be distorted by leftover moisture if he’s unable to make a satisfactory assessment from visuals alone. Omega calipers her wrist width twice to be sure.) He tosses the communicator to the side and assesses the other points of concern:
The jewelry can stay as the burn risk they pose isn’t major. The biggest concern left is the metal at the base of her still-intact, albeit shredded, piece of chest support. Omega opts to simply rip the wiring out, taking the remaining fabric and leather from the tactical suit with him. He recalls a memory of her complaining about the difficulty of finding these textiles of adequate quality. She can yell at Omega for ruining her clothes once she’s functioning at normal capacity. Although, he’d rather not deal with that: Omega knows her measurements and he takes a mental note to go “shopping” for a replacement, opening his to-do list and…
Omega’s calculations stop here, his internal calendar opened on a random day the next week. His processor is overheating, RAM usage borderlining maximum capacity, used up by the calculations and scans running in the background. He’s triangulated their location and is in the progress of searching for the nearest settlement with appropriate healthcare facilities.
>Oxygen saturation: 89%.
She requires oxygen.
Timeframe for irreversible brain tissue damage: 1–2 minutes. Estimated current limit: 1> minutes.
She requires oxygen.
Moving the compression task back to his frontal processor, Omega’s forced to focus on the outwardly lifeless organic form beneath him. The only movement of Rouge’s limp body being it shifting with each compression, none executed by her own somatic nervous system. (She likely isn’t aware of it herself, but her ears regularly adjust under normal conditions. As do most mobians’, but her ears are almost in constant motion, even in her sleep.) Rouge’s immobile ears have picked up the same pale hue as her lips.
Omega speeds up his compressions, slipping away from the perfectly measured form, recalculating for another technique that’d allow for more efficient transfer of blood by volume. She requires oxygen. He alters the compression depth but immediately retracts his claw at another fracture in her ribcage.
He reprimands himself for the action and goes to restart the compressions.
>Oxygen saturation: 87%. She requires oxygen.
He struggles to recall the previous automated cycle from his congested processor as his hand hovers on top of her sternum. Unable to provide oxygen for her. Her brain activity will cease. Why is the average meatbag so frustratingly fragile?!
>“List of reasons why meatbags are infe-
>Cease thought process! Observed contradiction: Rouge is not average, nor fragile!
…
But her respiration refuses to start. And she needs the oxygen. There’s a bruise on her head. And she will complain how the inevitable scab ‘ruins her looks’ during the healing process.
Except she will not have the opportunity to say that. Because her synapses are currently deteriorating. Her brain activity will cease in 1> minutes. She will be registered dead.
>Conclusion: I must prevent this.
>Complication: Unable to provide oxygen.
>Unable to provide oxygen.
>Unable to restart heart.
>Unable to fulfill direct-
>Unable-
…
>Incapable of ful-
…
>I am inc-
…
>This…
This unit is incapable of fulfilling its current directive.
Impossible; He is The Ultimate robot! No mere-
This unit is incapable of completing a simple task. Pathetic.
Unacceptable ; He is the greatest. He is more than capable. He is-
Powerless. Wea-
Omega’s fist hits sand – hard – before he registers the execution of the action, processor trying to patch the self-afflicted contradictions. Next to his clenched fist, he takes in the image of Rouge’s unmoving form again. The only reason he’s even processing visuals is because he’s force-running every scanner to keep relaying information related to her vitals. Vitals, of which only 60% are functioning. Corresponding to two disabled organs.
>Main objective: “Restart Rouge’s heart”.
>Task: faile-
Omega entire frame shudders as he fights the automated commands being fired at a high rate; to empty his magazines into the nearby foliage to level the tree line. To scorch the sand beneath him to its melting point. To ignite his boosters and fly back to the remnants of the rig and rain down destruction to any remaining piece of scrap until no Eggman emblem is recognisable. To crush and shred and maim to prove that he is strong- Correction; the strongest; and superior; and efficient; and capable; and useful; and functional; and worth-
He aborts the action of his claws halfway closing around Rouge’s torso, to dispose of the problem causing his current system overload – pistons ready to apply 5000 N, enough force to break every bone in her-
Digging his fingers into the sand instead, because he is supposed to revive her and he is unable to and instead he almost- The harsh reprimand, due to infringing his active directive, hits Omega’s processor belatedly, causing his joints to lock, fans blasting on maximum as his RAM capacity is pushed to its limits. The searing pressure on his CPU is overwhelming and he. can’t. compute. And he doesn’t panic, his inability to run cognitive processes barely registering to him in the first place – it’s harrowing – The offending image of rapidly cooling sand-covered flesh stuck on his front-end-processor mocking him as he hastily presses to fully reboot his GPU so that he doesn’t have to look at-
It takes more than a few million ticks for him to render the new visuals, and then some, to actually recognize the pair of jet boots in his field of vision.
Shadow.
Omega had not registered his arrival.
He quits multiple processes simultaneously, choosing to deal with the following lag and confusion just to free more RAM for his GPU. He lifts his optics to look at the hedgehog hybrid, framerates nonexistent as he struggles to focus his optics:
Shadow's wet and panting. No communicator. He’s clutching the Chaos Emerald. He’s…
…in the sand on his knees, pressing down on Rouge’s chest in near-perfect rhythm for organic standards, his intense eyes (pupils blown wide with fear, Omega analyses later) trained on him:
“Why the hell are you just sitting there?!!”
Omega’s processes halt for a second until he’s able to form a response.
“SHE REQUIRES OXYGEN!” the statement shoots out of his vocalizer hastily.
Shadow’s only flinches a little at Omega’s volume, followed by his eyes widening as Omega unexpectedly grips Shadow by the quills, making him face their teammate beneath him. Omega points to her airways:
“OXYGEN, SHADOW!” (He’s unable to conjure a more comprehensive statement.)
Shadow doesn’t waste time pressing his mouth to Rouge’s and expertly blowing four slow breaths into her, making sure her chest rises with each one. He goes onto continue with the compressions again, but Omega beats him to it:
“CONTINUE WITH TWO RESCUE BREATHS AFTER 30 COMPRESSIONS. I CAN EXECUTE THEM MORE ACCURATELY.” He managed to recalculate his previous “CPR” cycle. His RAM usage has lowered to 94%.
They switch around.
“SHE HAS NO PULSE”, Omega continues.
“Can’t you d-”
“DEFIBRILLATION NOT APPLICABLE IN THE CASE OF COMPLETE ASYSTOLE”, he pulls from his notes. Unable to restart heart. Inability to fulfill directive by self. Incapable of finishing one task. Worthl-
Another tremor runs through Omega, pistons disrupting, and his next compression doesn’t quite follow through.
“Tch- move.”
Normally, Omega would’ve argued against, because he is more efficient, more accurate – he has to be, by design, better than any organic, he must- He fights to keep his joints steady as he closes and dismisses the numerous warnings that popped in response to the mixed-up compression process and stiffly leans away.
Shadow presses his palms on top of Rouge’s chest and Omega’s still-active scanner picks up the burst of Chaos energy propelled into her. Her body jolts, not dissimilar to an electric shock.
…
A signal.
“A PULSE”, Omega gaze in unmoving. Her respiration should restart within seconds.
The signal is abnormal.
“RETRACTING STATEMENT; SHE HAS ENTERED VENTRICULAR FIBRILLATION!”
Chaos energy is not applicable here, as Shadow is unable to estimate or regulate the amount of ignition needed. Omega measures Rouge requiring proper defibrillation of 800V at the CPR-procedure-specified points of contact. With said amplitude, his hands will sear 3rd degree burns into her which will pose high risk of lung tissue scarring and infection, lessening chances of recovery post-revival. But a too-small area of contact doesn’t allow for the formation of the required electric circle. The water can also risk dispersing the current unevenly, making any attempt % null. This would require-
“Hold on.”
Omega cuts the signal to his vocalizer which he hadn’t noticed activating, continuing to run the process over in his head.
“Use these as conductors”, Shadow clicks his right limiter ring off, interrupting him, “All I know is they’re a special mix of…not quite metal…should provide better skin contact…”
Shadow’s face betrays almost no emotion other than determination, but his brows furrow when he takes off the other ring, Omega able to detect the trickle of unfiltered Chaos energy leaking from him. Omega’s focus is still divided between his rebooted scanners, most measuring Rouge’s vitals – the signals are wrongwrongwrong – and the less important tactical sensors registering secondary things, including: Chaos energy, the wind that’s making Rouge’s ears sway slightly – a false negative – the texture of the shifting sand as Shadow’s position changes-
“-ey? Hey! Omega!”
His awareness is pulled back to the tight-wound hedgehog in front of him, clutching the inhibitor rings against the back of Omega’s hands because the robot’s palms are currently pressed against his thighs, and he should probably unclench his claws because they’re bending the round bars, causing damage alerts to-
“Focus!”
>RAM usage: 99%
Oh.
…
“HER FUR IS STILL MOIST”, Omega states as he figures out the best, grounded hold of the inhibitors.
Shadow takes a steely intake of air, hands hovering a great 25cm above Rouge, and releases a small blast of Chaos energy. It’s unfocused and volatile to the point of confusing Omega’s radar but concentrated enough to create enough heat to…
Rouge’s fur isn’t soaking wet anymore.
Omega shuffled through five different sensors to gather this information because his processor’s taking too long to run the correct correlation-causation analysis.
While force-running and -quitting different programs in the background, Omega places the rings on the appropriate positions on Rouge’s chest.
“CLEAR!”
Shadow scoots away automatically.
Rouge’s body convulses at the shock.
There’s a 1.72 second pause.
A heartbeat.
>Rescan:
It’s steady.
“DEFIBRILLATION: SUCCESS.”
The pulse is faint but it’s there. She has a steady pulse.
Omega’s processor’s reeling from the positive reinforcements crashing down on his system.
Then Rouge’s body convulses a second time and Omega doesn’t have time to react, his processes delayed – he’s overwhelmed and fighting a full system reboot – and Shadow is there, turning Rouge on her side and patting her behind the shoulder blades as she begins to hack and cough, finally drawing in a wheezy breath. She doesn’t gain consciousness but she’s alive.
Shadow’s talking but Omega’s language center is not processing it. Instead, he’s focusing on Rouge’s functioning sinoatrial node emitting correct electric signals. He puts out ultrasound to take an echocardiogram read of her insides as Shadow hefts her up in a bridal carry. Omega stares at her weakly beating heart. Her lungs struggling to draw in breaths. Shadow says something more before disappearing in a flash of Chaos energy, Rouge in tow.
Omega's left to sit on the beach, with only the visuals of his scans to look at.
He’s never deemed organic systems as anything special – the opposite, actually;
>”List of reasons why meatbags are…
Omega keeps looking at the sonogram of Rouge’s beating heart.
He gets a call from Shadow at some point.
>Reason for failing to contact G.U.N.?
Shadow must’ve gotten Rouge needed medical care. Or, there might’ve been complications and Shadow’s calling to inform Omega of her deceasing. The scans state otherwise.
>Another party could have been contacted.
Omega doesn’t answer. Just in case.
He keeps analyzing the scans, sitting in the sand. Shadow calls him again. And three more times after that. Omega doesn’t move from his spot even as his power reserves dwindle. He shuts off any unnecessary scanners, closing the programs fully for the first time that day to preserve energy. He cleans out his task manager systematically while he rotates between the scans.
GPS: offline.
Tactical sensors: offline.
Radars: offline.
Communications: offline.
Visual processing: offline.
Auditory processing: offline.
He keeps looking at the sonogram – Her heart is beating – until he must enter power-saving mode.
Omega’s not awake for Shadow’s arrival, deep into the night, nor does he stir when the hedgehog regards the stationary robot for a moment before whisking them both away in a flash of light.