Alcohol And Idiots Do Not Mix

 Kuroko didn't quite recall how he'd ended up in a hotel. By the looks of it, what little he could see beyond the sun shield that was his own arm, it was a fairly nice hotel. He remembered somewhere in the back of his mind Akashi insisting they call it a night because someone had done something stupid and one of Aomine's friends was about three seconds away from being arrested, and he remembered falling over and someone picking him up bridal style...he must have passed out or fallen asleep after that, though he wasn't sure if, in the end, the others had listened to an ever so slightly drunk Akashi's suggestion. Evidently, he at least had managed to make it somewhere with a bed.

Slowly, Kuroko managed to move his arm away from his eyes and get his other arm underneath him, trying to use it to lever himself up into a seated position. There wasn't anyone else in the room, which really was a nice room. He was alone, as far as he could see, and surprisingly hungover for someone who went into a celebration or a night out or whatever you might call it with the decision to not get blind drunk and fall over on level ground and have to be carried back to a hotel by his boyfriend.

He managed not to groan as he attempted to swing his legs off the bed, got them caught up in the duvet and spent the next minute and a half with his eyes squeezed shut trying to kick his legs free before he could finally put his feet, still clad in muddy shoes for some reason or another, on the floor, only to find he wasn't alone in the room, someone was sleeping next to the bed, and trying to step on them sent him sprawling forward onto the carpet. He decided to lay there for a good few minutes, face down on the floor. It wasn't like anyone would care. He didn't even get up when he heard a shriek from down the hall. He heard footsteps outside the door, supposedly someone rushing off to the rescue, and felt something move against his own feet. Kagami groaned as he woke up and rolled onto his side, curling into a ball.

"What happened last night?" He moaned. "Why does my tongue taste of cardboard and dirt?"

"Aomine-kun's stag night." Came a mumbled response, spoken into the tickly carpet.

"Kuroko?"

"Yes?"

From down the hall, they both heard a shout of 'Oh God, what the hell is that doing in here?' and both looked to the door. Slowly, far slower than Kuroko had been before, Kagami got to his feet, question or request completely forgotten. He was barefoot, inching towards the door like a zombie. It was almost funny. After a moment, Kuroko decided to join him, both arriving at the door just in time to see a sheep rush past down the hall, being chased by three of Aomine's friends. Wakamatsu, Sakurai and one of Aomine's university friends, or maybe work friends (Kuroko couldn't remember his name, but he remembered he smelled funny, and he could still smell him now over the stench of sheep) appeared to be trying to corral the poor creature towards the lifts and stairwells, each displaying various degrees of panic upon their faces.

Kagami stared at the scene for about a minute before running a hand over his face with a groan. "I'm going back to bed." He announced before turning back and slamming the door, leaving Kuroko locked outside his hotel room.

"Ah, Kagami-kun..." He turned and tried to open the door, but gave up quickly. There was no response to him knocking, either. As if the big idiot had already fallen asleep.

He honestly wasn't quite sure how long he stood there, zoned out and wishing he could function or that he had water before the door opposite opened and someone called out to him. A man with a camera around his neck  and an excited smile  on his face. Clearly not hungover. In fact, every word he said was so loud Kuroko thought his head might split in two.

"Hey!" He called. "Oh my god, hey, come here, come here! You gotta see this! The really really big guy and the naggy redhead are in bed together!"

With that, he disappeared into the room he'd just opened, and Kuroko stared after him for a moment. The big guy and the nagging redhead? Murasakibara and Akashi maybe? After all, that fit the biggest guy and the only redhead Kuroko hadn't already seen. Well...that was interesting, certainly, but what really enticed him into that room was  that, through the open door, he could see a table with bottled water on it, which he went straight to before anything else.

Okay, so it turned out Murasakibara and Akashi really were in bed together. Fully clothed, fast asleep, clearly with nothing going on, but at some point in the night the former had evidently decided he needed a collection of teddy bears. That collection was mostly formed of hotel pillows, a table lamp, and Akashi's sleeping form. Additionally, there was a third man in the bed between the two, but between their legs and completely hidden by the covers, a fourth man could be heard vomiting in the en suite bathroom, and Imayoshi was asleep in an armchair, though his glasses appeared to have slipped off his face and onto his shoe at some point during the night. The man that had called Kuroko in, another one he didn't quite remember the name of but who was definitely the guy who almost got arrested, was taking photos of the carnage. Kuroko briefly wondered if he'd photographed the sheep fiasco at all. It certainly seemed like something worth making a memory of.

The wannabe photographer moved off towards the bathroom, calling for Aomine as he went. Honestly, with the amount he'd been drinking the night before, Kuroko wasn't surprised that Aomine was vomiting. He was pretty sure the poor idiot had been vomiting at the club as well. A movement caught the shadow's eye and he found himself looking back to the bed as the man asleep by the miracles' legs began to wake, moving up until his head was resting on part of Murasakibara's pillow collection, just under the lamp.

Midorima. Fully clothed, by the looks of things, just like the other two, glasses and all. For all of two seconds, he lay there, reluctant to open his eyes, as though he knew the world beyond his eyelids would not be kind to him, but when Murasakibara heaved a great sigh into his face, still mid-dream himself, Midorima found himself needing to open his eyes to see who was that close to his face.

It might have been the snap realisation of who he was sharing a bed with, or it might have just been that their faces were almost touching and that in itself was a shock, but the moment those green eyes opened, their owner bellowed out an almighty shriek and pulled back, colliding with the blissfully asleep Akashi and bringing them both off the bed, along with the duvet that had been covering the three former miracles. A scream in his face was enough to wake Murasakibara up, and he shot upright with a yelp, clutching his precious lamp to his chest as he watched the scene with wide eyes before making a vague, noncommittal sound and flopping back down into his pillow hoard. At the same time, the two men in the bathroom came running into the main bedroom, clearly alerted by the scream and apparently not vomiting. Kise and the photographer.

"What's going on?" Photographer yelled. "We heard screaming, and not good screaming!"

There was no answer for a moment, just a lot of cursing as Midorima and Akashi tried to get themselves untangled from each other and the bedclothes, and Kise leaned over to whisper in Kuroko's ear.

"What are Midorimacchi and Akashicchi doing?"

"Bonding." Kuroko replied with a slight shrug.

"Oh." Kise's breath reeked of vomit.

It was Akashi who managed to disentangle himself first, crawling away from the duvet and the other man, eyes screwed shut in what may have been pain. He crawled headfirst into the wicker chair Imayoshi slept in and groaned, collapsing sideways to the floor and laying there stock still. Imayoshi jerked awake with an unattractive snort and peered blearily around the room.

"Where am I? Oh god, my head..." His eyes shut again and he clumsily massaged his temples.

"My hotel room." Akashi responded irritably, eyes snapping open again. "Why are you all in my room?"

"Look, man, I don't even know who you are. I just know my head hurts..."

"Atsushi, get out of my bed."

"But I'm so comfy..."

Midorima managed to get free from the duvet he'd managed to wrap around himself like a cocoon and limped to the bathroom, almost tripping over Akashi as he went. Akashi, in turn, sat up and drew his legs to his chest to prevent anyone else tripping over him. Wakamatsu peeked  into the room through the door Kuroko had left wide open.

"Uh...is everything okay in here?" Silence and staring. "Is Aomine in here?" More silence, but this time Kise shook his head.

"He isn't in the bathroom?" Kuroko asked.

"No." Photographer answered. "It was only blondie here in there."

"Kise."

"Gesundheit."

Sakurai and Aomine's other university friend were behind Wakamatsu, seemingly trying to look into the room over the blond's shoulders. "Imayoshi-san looks like he's going to throw up." The former muttered, mostly to himself. "Throw up or die."

Looking back to the man in question, Kuroko had to agree he did look rather ill. His face was an impressive shade of grey, and rather sweaty, and he'd been gradually leaning over to one side since he'd last spoken, like  his spine had simply given up on keeping him upright. Perhaps it was still drunk.

"Yeah, Imayoshi, we don't need to call an ambulance for you or something, do we?" Wakamatsu asked with obvious concern that may have bordered on full on fear for the other man's life. Imayoshi took about five minutes to realise he was being addressed, by which point Midorima had emerged from the bathroom, having attempted to comb his hair and wash his face at the least, and the others had decided it might be worthwhile calling an ambulance after all because the grey-faced idiot just wasn't responding, and then

"Oh, I'm Imayoshi...am I Imayoshi?" He ran a hand up his face and through his hair as he spoke.

"Uh...yeah?"

"Oh...I don't need an  ambulance...I'm good...I could do with throwing up though..." He then scowled. "Imayoshi? Really?"

Akashi decided that was as good a time as any to try and get to his feet, handing the confused Imayoshi his glasses back in the process. Imayoshi seemed to have no idea what he was supposed to do with them. "So is Aomine not in his room?"

"He's...not anywhere..." Replied an equally stunned and confused Wakamatsu. "Nowhere we've looked, anyway..."

The redhead thought for a moment, trying to cast his mind back. "Did...did he even make it to the hotel with us?"

Kise shook his head again. "Didn't...did he even leave the club with us?"

"Why wouldn't he?"

"I don't  know, but...I think we left him behind..."

"Just call him." Midorima told them. "He probably hasn't gone far anyway." He limped past the wicker chair to pick up the tangled mess of bedclothes and pillows, as he was the one that  had knocked them all to the floor, and dumped them on the bed. Imayoshi caught sight of his reflection in the window.

"Oh god!" He exclaimed. "Who's that ugly motherfucker?"

"You." Akashi told him.

"No, the one with the glasses. The ugly one with the weird eyes."

"You." He repeated.

"Oh god."

"Shintaro."

"What?" He asked, barely offering the redhead a glance.

"...Have you done something to your leg?"

He glanced down to the offending limb. "I guess so." He shifted his lower leg experimentally. "It aches..."

"Roll your pant leg up."

He did so, rolling it up to his knee and craning his head back to try and see.

On his lower leg, a large, white, square bandage had been stuck to his skin. Akashi knelt down to take a look at Midorima's calf, gripping the edge of the bandage and tearing it off.

"What is that?" The green-haired man asked, looking at the strange mark revealed. He'd been expecting a stitched injury, perhaps. Something that signified he'd fallen and hurt himself while intoxicated. Instead, he could see something green and sore-looking as he tried to twist his leg to see better.

"It's a tattoo." Akashi answered.

"What?!"

"A tattoo." He repeated as Kuroko came to crouch beside him and get a better look.

"A tattoo of what? What is it?"

"A caterpillar."

"A cutesy caterpillar." Kuroko added.

"Wearing a little pink bow." Akashi confirmed.

"Have you got any others?"

"No!" Midorima yelped before patting himself down experimentally. "At least...I hope not." Surely he would know if he had any other tattoos, right? The one on his leg hurt, after all. And he didn't remember getting any other tattoos. Then again, he didn't remember getting the caterpillar either. "I need a mirror."

At that moment, Kagami came bursting through the door. "I heard screaming!"

"That was ages ago, Kagami-kun. You've missed all the fun."

"Is...is everyone else in here?" He asked, looking around curiously, and then "Is that a tattoo?"

Midorima dropped his trouser leg and rubbed a hand over his face. "I can never wear shorts again..."

"Aomine's missing." Kuroko corrected his light. "Have you seen him?"

"No. Have you tried calling him?"

"No, but we were going to."

Akashi dipped into his pockets before frowning. "My phone isn't there..." He muttered, checking another pocket before looking at the bed. "Did it fall out?"

"I don't have mine either!" Photographer yelped, looking mortified.

"I'm sorry, but mine's gone too!" Sakurai cried  next as most of the others began to search their pockets for their phones. Midorima, Kuroko, Kagami and Aomine's other university friend still had  theirs, and Imayoshi managed to find his in his back pocket.

"I have a phone." He slurred. "I've got a text." He took a few minutes to read the text, frowned, read it again and then gasped. "Guys, I have a sister."

Completely ignoring him, Kuroko found Aomine in his contacts (it wasn't a long search) and called him.

A cheerful tune filled the room, prompting everyone to turn to the source, which was one of the pockets of Murasakibara's trousers. After a moment, the purple-haired giant dug the ringing phone out of his pocket, stared at  it as  he considered whether or not to answer  it, and then said "This isn't my phone."

"It's Aomine's." Kuroko agreed as the phone rang out.

"Why do I have phones?" He asked, reaching into each of his pockets and pulling out more and more devices, laying each one on the bed beside him. Kise's, Akashi's, Sakurai's, Wakamatsu's, the photographer's, his own, of course, and an additional and expensive looking phone that nobody claimed as their own. Akashi's phone was decorated with an unpleasant looking crack across both the screen and the back. Murasakibara insisted he had no idea how it happened.

"We'll have to go looking for  him." Kuroko mused.

There was a general murmur of agreement. After all, this was a strange, unfamiliar place. They couldn't just leave the poor idiot to fend for himself. He'd probably end up being eaten by badgers the next town over. If  he didn't just wander around in circles until he dropped.

As everyone else began to get up and set out, Imayoshi lurched forward in his seat and began to vomit profusely over the carpet.

((So I actually wrote this a long time ago and posted it only to my tumblr because technically this was an unfinished version. I was also going to write flashbacks to the night itself and them actually looking for Aomine, but I never went back to finish it, and I wanted to share these parts when I finished them. Also introducing Yuri (the smelly guy) and Mitsuki (the photography student), who are not mentioned by name, but exist because I'm pretty sure Aomine would have friends he made between leaving school and getting married.))

The Slaughterhouse Kid's Test

Missie was conscious the entire journey, but bound and gagged, blindfolded. Whatever they'd bound her with was actually quite comfortable. Soft, but tied tight. The amount of care they'd taken to not harm her in transit was surprising, but appreciated, even if her being in good nick was just to be used for leverage. She was pretty sure she knew already who had taken her and why, and with that in mind her future prospects weren't looking good. Unable to see, unable to move her limbs, she couldn't use her powers or fight to protect herself, and the end goal of these people would most likely be her death. Obviously, she was afraid. She wanted to scream and cry and fight for her life. But she couldn't do a thing.

She had been placed in a vehicle, a van or a truck she thought, somewhere in the back on her side, and off the kidnappers had driven. Someone was in the back with her. Occasionally, when the truck lurched, she felt their foot press against her, possibly keeping her from sliding all over the place. She wasn't sure if it was motion sickness or morning sickness, but she felt like she might hurl any moment. Feeling nauseous with your mouth blocked was never great, and she was honestly anxious she might choke on her own vomit before she even made it to wherever they planned to execute her.

The journey was a good two hours of lefts, rights and roundabouts she couldn't keep track of. It ended in a sudden stop, a slam of the breaks that had her squealing in terror. Hands were on her and she was hoisted up, carried inside a building and made to kneel on what felt like a hard, metal grate. A man stood there beside her, a hand on her shoulder. She shivered in fear.

"Get McCree. Tell him I need to talk to him about something vitally important."

"Yes sir." Footsteps. The sound of a heavy door. Silence.

Another door opened, this time in front of her, and the voice of the underling before sounded out. "Sir, Agent McCree here to see you."

Castor stepped into the large metal room, often nicknamed The Gallows by his colleagues, and respectfully dropped to one knee. If he was surprised to see the superhero, Total Nightmare, bound at the hands of his boss, albeit out of costume and in her nightclothes, he didn't show it in his eyes. The downturn of his lips at the sight was hidden by his mask. The boss himself, a tall man who kept his true face hidden and his true voice disguised, stood to the side on an elevated platform, while a skinhead ranked at a measly 19 in the runnings stood at the captive's side, a shit eating grin on his face. The woman who had come to fetch him was so low in ranks she was little more than a runner or messenger.

"Agent McCree." The boss began, reclining leisurely against the railing around his platform. "I have a small assassination job for you, and it's been a while since I saw your abilities in person. I thought it might be entertaining to have you put on a little show for me." He gestured to the girl and the agent below, an uncaring flick of the hand. "Agent Nevers here has brought this lovely young lady to our base. A miss Melissa Colleen Varnham. I believe you know her."

Castor replied only with a slight incline of his head.

"Excellent. Agent Nevers and I have confirmed you and Miss Varnham...well, let's just say you've found her useful for whetting your sexual appetites, shall we? And that in and of itself is fine, and to be expected. You came to us very young, pledged to throw away friends, family and loved ones, and to be loyal to us, when you were but a child. Since then, you've been through the changes of puberty, and your emotional needs have changed. It was bound to happen eventually that hormones and cravings would drive you to experiment sexually with the body of another. And that does not concern us, my boy, so do not worry. I have no problem with my employees spending some time with a sex worker or on a one night stand."

"But...?"

He could almost feel the boss smirking down at him. "Did this particular young lady ever make you aware that she was carrying your child?"

"Never. Our only contact has been during our...sexual liaisons." It wasn't completely true. While Missie certainly had not yet informed him of her pregnancy, their relationship was certainly more than just casual sex.

"I see. And do you still stand by the pledge you made upon joining us?"

"Of course, sir."

"Of course. I'm sorry, I have to ask. After all, some make this pledge without truly being able to keep it. Agent Soyka, Agent Vrana, Agent Clausius, Agent Hassan...you used to be close to Agent Hassan, did you not?"

"When he defected, he told me he believed if we'd not been part of the agency we could have been friends."

"What a sweet fantasy. Of course, we still haven't obtained Agent Hassan's head...but he defected because he had a child, did he not?"

"Correct."

"Yes. The human heart sure is a tricky thing. Now, obviously, we don't want to run the risk of you getting attached, or of someone finding out you have connections or emotional bonds you really shouldn't have. McCree is our finest killing machine, correct?"

"Correct."

"And anyone could try to use any family or partners you might have to manipulate you, to prevent you being at your best."

"I have no bonds. I'm loyal only to The Agency."

"Of course, of course, of course. So this entire conversation is just a long-winded way of saying I support you, but please be careful. You're like a son to me, Castor. I don't want any more accidental pregnancies."

"Yes, sir."

"Excellent. Now, on with the show. Kill the girl, and her unborn child. Show no mercy. Make it flashy. I want to see how you've improved since last time. I know you prefer your targets to try and escape, but just this time you'll have to make do with a bound captive."

Castor got to his feet. Missie's breath hitched. Perhaps she was crying. He had options, of course. Option one was to do as his boss said, and slice his girlfriend to ribbons in the most theatrical way he could think of. Option two would be to attack Agent Nevers, the shithead currently looking down Missie's top. Option three would be to tactically cut the ribbon around Missie's eyes, allowing her to see any other oncoming blades and thus allowing her to redirect them. Anything but option one would have the rest of the agency coming to kill him. Stalling for time wasn't an option either, though he was sure if word of Missie's disappearance got to the group keeping Hassan under custody, he'd probably tell them exactly where to find her. He liked his job as an assassin, and didn't want his relationship with a superhero to be the end of it.

He took a deep, steadying breath, withdrew his weapons and took aim.

Angst But It's Team Chaotix

The world around him swam and blurred, hazing through various degrees of out of focus. Never quite in. He was face down on the ground. It was warm. He expected cold, but the ground was warm, like hot sand on a beach. And it hurt. His hand hurt, his head hurt, it really hurt. A sharp, throbbing pain, worse than anything he'd ever felt before. His instinct was to raise his hand, his good one, up to his head, to where it hurt, but he had to move first. Something dripped down the edge of his helmet and onto his face, and he squeezed his eyes shut, closing out the wavering, nauseating world.

Charmy lay still for several minutes, gritting his teeth, breathing in shattered sobs. He was crying. It hurt so much, he was crying. It took a lot of courage to get his good hand underneath him, to push himself up, and the movement made him feel very ill. He wanted to throw up. Scratch that, he was going to throw up.

"V-Vector...Espio?" Charmy tried to call out for them once he'd finished gagging, but it came out more as a whimper. His own voice sounded strange, like it was muffled, or through a filter. He managed to open his eyes, tried to look around. Couldn't see anyone. A long corridor stretched out in front of him. He raised his hand, feeling over his helmet, trying to work out why blood was on top of it. Because that was what was dripping down his face and onto his shoulders, it was blood. He was bleeding. His hand ghosted over his left antenna...or rather, where his left antenna should have been. He cried out again as a fresh wave of agony shot from the point of contact, and a panicked voice in his head managed to make itself heard. The antenna was gone. It just...wasn't there.

What were you supposed to do when you woke up somewhere weird, all by yourself, a part of your body missing and everything hurting, no memory of what happened beforehand, no clue who had hurt you or why? He knew when he'd grazed a knee or something, Vector would sometimes put a sticky plaster on it, one with smiley faces. Smiley faces would be nice right now. And Vector, if Vector was here it would be better. Or Espio. Or even Knuckles. Just anyone.

But when he called for them, there was no answer. No-one came to get him. So Charmy did the only sensible thing for a six year old to do in such a situation. He cried harder.

------

The whole thing started as a report of kidnappings in the area. It was two little girls playing together not too far from the docks, supervised by one of their mothers. The mother said someone had grabbed her from behind and held a funny smelling rag over her mouth and nose, and as she struggled and fell unconscious, another man grabbed the children. All she knew for sure was that it was a man with blue fur.

Team Chaotix hadn't been officially tasked with this particular case, it had been taken straight to the police. Still, with this happening so close to their detective office, keeping their eyes open for a clue that could help find these two girls couldn't hurt.

Things became a bit more personal when the same man with the blue fur grabbed Charmy as well.

Having witnessed the kidnapping and having been assaulted by the kidnapper's buddies, Vector and Espio had a much more solid lead to follow, and promised to rescue not just Charmy, but the two missing girls as well. Having been injured in the attack, when they narrowed down their search to the most likely place, they brought some back up in the form of some good friends used to playing the role of hero.

At this point, Charmy had been missing a little over a day, and the two girls for two and a half. The search party/investigation team arrived at a strange complex. The kidnapped girls were found locked in a room, unharmed but obviously frightened and greatly distressed. They revealed to their rescuers that the boy who had been with them had helped them try to escape, but the man with the blue fur had caught him again and had threatened to hurt him if the girls didn't do as told. They didn't see him after they were locked back in the room, but they were pretty sure he struggled and one said she saw him try and bite the man.

At around the same time, Sonic, who had accompanied the Chaotix on this particular venture, claimed to have found the kidnapper and two cohorts and to have apprehended them. The three refused to tell him where Charmy was, and further pressing from Vector and Espio only got the kidnapper to say he found the child incredibly annoying. One of the other two insisted their boss had taken the child downstairs, and that they weren't privy to the exact whereabouts. The second had cursed out his friend for spilling.

Tails and Amy took it upon themselves to escort the two girls home, and Sonic assured them he would be right back as soon as he'd deposited the criminals in a secure place. With that, Vector and Espio ventured into the lower levels to find Charmy.

The first clue they found was a telltale patch of blood on an old rickety staircase that creaked every time they so much as looked at it. The blood was dry to the touch, and led into a renovated basement level that now seemed to serve as a recreational room of some sort. Under a locked trap door beneath a lumpy carpet was a narrow corridor with more blood, a patch on the floor and a swathe on the wall made by a little hand. This blood wasn't completely dry, and so must have been less than an hour old. As unnerving as this trail was, they were on the right track. It seemed this area was used purely for storage of old and broken objects, possibly adjacent to a boiler room, and there were plenty of small, tight spaces to hide. They made sure to keep an eye out for him as they searched.

And there, tucked into a tight space in a cluttered corner, was Charmy. He was shivering violently and whimpering. Vector bolted to his side, kneeling close and trying to reach into that tight space. "Charmy, hey, Charmy, can you hear me?"

"Vec...Vector?" The bee shifted until Vector could see his eye, red from crying so hard.

"Yeah, kid, I'm here. Are you hurt?"

"Hhhh..." The sound was more of a breathy, shuddering moan than a proper reply. Vector shifted back, holding both arms out.

"Come here, Charmy, let me see."

"...It hurts..."

"I know. Come here, let me see."

With some hesitation, he managed to coax the child out of his hiding place, and felt his heart drop as he saw the damage. Charmy's left hand was clearly broken. It was swollen, and three of the fingers were at an unnatural angle. He had blood drying on his face and his left antenna wasn't visible. Vector gently tilted the boy's head, trying to get a better look. There was a crack across the helmet as well. A slight dent. There must have been one hell of an impact against the poor kid's head. This was not something Vector knew how to deal with, this was...this was bad. A look back at his company told him Espio wasn't sure how to manage this sort of damage either. He took a steadying breath and placed his hands on Charmy's cheeks, trying to get him to look him in the eye.

"Okay, Charmy, I...I'm going to take off your helmet to get a better look at your head, okay? I'll try and do it without hurting you, but it might hurt just a teeny, tiny bit, okay?"

"No! No, don't make it hurt! I don't want it to hurt any more! I want the hurt to stop!" He started to squirm and Vector pulled him in, getting a proper grip on him to prevent him scrabbling away.

"It will stop, I promise, but first I need to see why it hurts, okay?"

"I want to go home!"

"We're going home. We'll head home as soon as I'm done checking you over, okay?"

"I'm here too." Espio assured him, moving in closer, hiding his clenched fists from the child's view, not wanting to concern him. "We've apprehended the one who did this to you. You're safe now, and rest assured you did well. The other children are safe as well."

That seemed to calm him a little. He was still crying, still shaking, but he wasn't trying to escape or pull away. In fact, he rested his head against Vector's chest, seeking warmth and comfort. He held onto the larger figure, gripping tight as if scared his friends, his family, might disappear if he let them. Vector took this as his opportunity to remove the helmet, wincing when this caused Charmy to cry out again. He passed the helmet behind him, for Espio to hold, and took a close look at the damage. Around the area the helmet had cracked was a nasty-looking swelling, and a bloodied stump was all that remained of his antenna. The mere thought of someone doing this, of causing so much pain and damage to one of his boys, of leaving the kid to suffer...it made his blood boil. It made him angrier than he'd ever remembered feeling before, and it also scared him. He hadn't been there when Charmy had needed him, and this was the result. This would change the kid's entire life, his entire future, an injury this bad.

"Vector. We need to take him to a doctor."

"I know." He growled back. "How fast do you think you can get him to one?"

"On foot by myself to Seaside City? Two hours. One-forty-five if lucky."

"Not good enough. Get Sonic."

"Roger."

He disappeared back up the trap door, and Sonic soon took his place, promising to get Charmy to a hospital safe and sound. Tails would return in his plane to pick Vector and Espio up and take them to the same hospital, as it would be faster than having them make their own way back on injured feet. When the doctor overseeing Charmy's treatment spoke to Vector, she made a few things clear. The damage to his head likely would have killed him had he not been wearing a helmet at the time, the missing antenna would almost certainly result in permanent hearing loss on the affected side, there was a possibility the broken bones in his hand and fingers could require surgical intervention to heal properly and they were, of course, going to keep him in until they were absolutely sure he was good to go. The exact damage to his brain and what effects it would have in the long term was still uncertain, and he would have to be monitored in regards to that as well. Overall, far from the best outcome, but still not the worst. He wasn't in danger of dying, at least, but if only, he kept thinking...if only he could have stopped this, made it so Charmy never got hurt at all.