Evening settled slowly over the old underground base.
Not all at once.
The light simply… faded.
Orange sunlight filtered weakly through the cracked upper ventilation shafts overhead, stretching long shadows across the corridors Doctor Julian Ivo Kintobor and Arthur Sylvannia had once called home.
Now the base felt different.
Too quiet.
Too careful.
The war outside hadn't reached this place directly yet, but everyone inside could feel it pressing closer day by day anyway.
Collin Kintobor Jr. sat near the side of the medical room with a wrench in one hand and a half-disassembled scanner in the other.
Mostly because sitting still for too long made him anxious.
And because fixing things was easier than thinking.
The room itself remained dim except for the soft glow of medical equipment surrounding Arthur Sylvannia's bed.
Arthur hadn't moved in days.
Still.
Silent.
Blue quills slightly longer now than when Collin had first met him months ago as Sonic the Hedgehog.
Funny how strange that still felt.
Half a year ago Arthur had been an unpredictable blue blur with an attitude problem and absolutely no sense of self-preservation.
Now—
He was a king.
Sort of.
An unconscious king currently drooling slightly into a pillow.
Collin stared for a moment.
"…You know," he muttered toward Arthur's unconscious form, "that somehow makes you seem more normal."
No response.
Miles made one instead.
A tiny sleepy chirping noise rose from the nearby crib.
Collin immediately looked over.
The fox kit had been asleep most of the afternoon after finally exhausting himself earlier. His two tails twitched faintly beneath the blanket while one oversized ear flicked sleepily.
Then—
One eye cracked open slightly.
Collin blinked.
"…Oh."
Miles blinked blearily back at him.
For several long seconds neither moved.
Then Miles yawned.
It was tiny.
Ridiculously tiny.
Collin physically felt his defenses weaken.
"…Anarchy Below."
He rubbed lightly at his own face.
"Why are babies built like biological weapons."
Miles stared at him blankly.
Then sneezed.
A tiny little ptff.
Collin pointed immediately.
"See? Psychological warfare."
The fox kit responded by making another sleepy chirping sound and attempting to eat part of the blanket.
"…That too apparently."
The medical room door slid open behind him with a metallic hiss.
Boomer entered carrying what looked like three separate mechanical components stacked precariously in his arms alongside an oversized toolbox nearly half his size.
The seven-year-old walrus Mobian immediately kicked the door shut behind himself without looking.
"…I swear if one more person touches my workbench without askin' permission I'm buildin' a defense turret."
Collin glanced over.
"…You say that like it's hypothetical."
"It ain't."
Boomer finally noticed Miles awake.
Then immediately lit up.
"Oh hey, the little fuzzball's conscious."
Miles blinked slowly toward the newcomer.
Then grabbed one of his own tails.
Boomer set the machinery down carefully near the far table before walking over.
"…Still weird he's got two of those."
Collin snorted softly.
"You met his family."
"Yeah but Arthur's weird in ways that yell loudly and break physics."
Boomer leaned slightly over the crib.
"This little guy just looks confused."
Miles stared upward at him.
Boomer stared back.
"…We're havin' a moment."
Collin shook his head.
"You say that about everything."
"Because everything's dramatic."
The walrus reached down carefully and wiggled one finger slightly near Miles.
The fox kit immediately grabbed it with both tiny hands.
Boomer froze.
"…Oh no."
Collin smirked faintly.
"What?"
"He's got grip strength."
"That is how hands work."
"No, you don't understand."
Boomer pointed dramatically.
"That's the grip of somebody who plans crimes."
Miles responded by trying to chew on Boomer's finger.
"…Yep," Boomer sighed solemnly.
"Future criminal mastermind."
Collin laughed quietly despite himself.
It still surprised him sometimes how easily Boomer pulled people into conversations.
The kid talked constantly.
Half the time about things nobody understood.
The other half about things nobody wanted to understand.
Like the rocket-powered wrench incident.
Or the microwave railgun.
Or whatever horrifying thing he'd meant earlier by "defense turret."
Boomer finally freed his finger from Miles' tiny grasp and glanced toward Arthur's bed.
His expression softened slightly.
"…Still not up?"
Collin shook his head.
"No changes."
Boomer was quiet for a second.
Then nodded once.
"…Julian'll fix it."
Not hopeful.
Certain.
That certainty hit differently coming from Boomer.
Because he genuinely believed it.
Collin leaned back slightly in his chair.
"…You really trust him that much."
Boomer looked confused.
"…Why wouldn't I?"
Collin shrugged faintly.
"I dunno."
A pause.
"…He's your uncle."
"And?"
"And geniuses are usually terrible people."
Boomer considered that.
"…Fair."
Then immediately added:
"But Uncle Julian's only terrible socially."
"That is incredibly specific."
"He once explained surgery techniques while we were eatin' lunch."
Collin stared.
"…Anarchy Below."
"Aye."
Boomer crossed his arms.
"Lost my appetite for two days."
Miles made another tiny noise from the crib.
Both boys looked over immediately.
The fox kit had managed to roll slightly onto his side now and was blinking around the room with growing awareness.
One tail swished lazily behind him.
Then the second.
Collin still wasn't entirely used to that.
"…He's definitely more awake."
Boomer nodded.
"Yup."
Miles spotted Arthur next.
The fox kit's ears perked immediately.
Then he made a tiny questioning sound.
Boomer's expression softened slightly again.
"…Yeah."
The walrus gently leaned against the side of the crib.
"He's still sleepin'."
Miles stared toward Arthur for several seconds.
Then looked back at Boomer.
Then Arthur again.
Like he expected something to happen if he checked enough times.
Collin felt something uncomfortable twist in his chest at that.
Because even babies understood absence.
Boomer noticed too.
He glanced toward Collin quietly.
"…He misses him."
Collin nodded faintly.
"Yeah."
For a little while the room fell quiet except for the soft beeping of medical monitors and distant mechanical humming throughout the old base.
Then Boomer suddenly squinted toward the half-disassembled scanner beside Collin.
"…Did you rewire that backwards?"
Collin immediately frowned.
"No."
Boomer walked over.
Looked at it once.
"…You absolutely did."
"I did not."
"You crossed the stabilization coils."
"That shouldn't matter."
Boomer stared at him in horror.
"'Shouldn't matter,' he says."
"It SHOULDN'T."
Boomer pointed dramatically at the machine.
"That scanner nearly exploded yesterday!"
"It sparked a little!"
"It achieved sentience for four seconds!"
"That was ONE time!"
Miles suddenly giggled.
Both boys froze.
Then slowly looked toward the crib.
The fox kit blinked at them happily.
Boomer gasped softly.
"…Oh no."
Collin raised an eyebrow.
"What now?"
"He's laughin' at us."
Miles did it again.
Tiny little giggles.
Collin physically felt his stress lowering against his will.
Boomer leaned closer toward the crib again.
"You think we're funny, huh?"
Miles immediately grabbed for his face.
"HEY—"
Too late.
Tiny hands latched onto one of Boomer's whiskers.
The walrus froze completely.
"…Collin."
Collin folded his arms smugly.
"Yes?"
"…I have made a tactical error."
Miles tugged experimentally.
Boomer winced.
"…Ow."
The fox kit giggled harder.
Collin lost the battle against laughter entirely.
Boomer pointed accusingly while still trapped.
"You ain't helpin'!"
"Oh no," Collin grinned.
"This is the funniest thing I've seen all week."
"You're a traitor."
"Correct."
Eventually Boomer carefully freed himself with all the caution of someone disarming explosives.
Miles looked deeply pleased with himself afterward.
Boomer rubbed one whisker dramatically.
"…He's stronger than he looks."
"That's still a baby."
"That's what makes it terrifying."
The room settled again after that.
Comfortably this time.
And for a little while—
The war outside felt farther away.
Hopefully it would almost be over soon.
-------
Collin eventually stood with a quiet groan, stretching stiffly until several joints cracked loudly enough for Miles to blink at him in alarm.
"…Okay wow," Collin muttered. "I'm officially becoming an old man."
Boomer snorted immediately.
"You are nineteen."
"And exhausted."
"That's fair."
Collin rubbed at one eye before glancing toward the medical monitors again.
Arthur's vitals remained stable.
Slow.
Controlled.
Exactly how Doctor Julian Ivo Kintobor had intended.
That mattered.
Especially now.
Tomorrow.
According to Julian's calculations, Arthur was supposed to wake tomorrow.
The thought had been hanging over the entire base all day.
Nobody said it directly much.
Probably because saying hopeful things aloud lately felt dangerous.
Boomer was already dragging a chair across the room toward the crib and Arthur's bed simultaneously in the sort of maneuver that looked deeply unsafe but somehow worked anyway.
Collin watched him for a second.
"…You know you can just make two trips."
Boomer kept dragging everything at once.
"That sounds inefficient."
"You are going to throw out your back before adulthood."
"Nah."
The walrus finally wedged the chair into place between Arthur's bed and Miles' crib with visible satisfaction.
"There."
Collin stared.
"…You moved the heavy chair instead of the light one."
Boomer blinked.
Then looked at both chairs.
A pause.
"…Anarchy Below."
Collin laughed tiredly.
Miles giggled too, mostly because the other two were laughing.
Boomer pointed accusingly at the fox kit.
"Don't encourage him."
Miles responded by trying to eat his own tail.
"…Okay maybe encourage him a little," Boomer amended.
Collin shook his head while gathering the tools he'd been using.
Even after everything happening outside—
The medical room somehow still felt lived in.
Safe.
Not because the world outside couldn't reach them.
But because people kept trying anyway.
The old base had become full of tiny acts of stubbornness like that.
People cooking meals despite rationing.
Fixing broken lights no one strictly needed.
Arguing over dumb things.
Keeping watch over unconscious kings and fox babies like that alone could hold the world together.
Maybe it could.
Boomer plopped heavily into the chair beside Arthur's bed and immediately kicked his feet up onto an overturned supply crate.
"…Alright," he announced grandly.
"I am now in charge."
Collin snorted.
"That is the least reassuring sentence I've heard today."
"You wound me."
"I'm serious."
Boomer folded his arms.
"I'll have you know I'm extremely responsible."
At that exact moment one of the mechanical parts he'd dumped earlier slid off the table and hit the floor with a loud metallic crash.
Silence.
Collin slowly looked at the fallen machinery.
Then back at Boomer.
Boomer remained perfectly still.
"…That was unrelated."
"You are physically incapable of proving that."
Miles squeaked happily from the crib.
Boomer pointed at him.
"See? He trusts me."
"He is literally a baby."
"Exactly. Pure instincts."
"That is not how instincts work."
Boomer ignored him.
Instead he leaned slightly toward Miles.
"Ain't that right, little fuzzball?"
Miles stared at him.
Then sneezed directly into his face.
Collin doubled over laughing.
Boomer sat frozen for several seconds, blinking slowly.
"…I have been betrayed."
Miles made another tiny chirping noise.
Boomer wiped his face dramatically.
"Y'know what? That's fair. I probably deserved that somehow."
Collin finally managed to catch his breath again.
"…You absolutely did."
Boomer sniffed suspiciously.
"…Was that apple sauce?"
"How would I know?"
"You were on watch before me!"
"I was not cataloging the baby fluids, Boomer!"
"That sounds irresponsible."
Collin pointed toward the door.
"I am leaving before I commit violence."
Boomer waved lazily from the chair.
"Have fun."
Collin grabbed his bag and headed toward the exit before pausing beside Arthur's bed.
For just a second—
The humor faded quietly from his expression.
Arthur still looked too still.
Too pale.
The blue hedgehog who once ricocheted through hallways at impossible speeds now hadn't moved voluntarily in days.
But unlike earlier in the week—
There was finally an end in sight.
Tomorrow.
Julian had been certain.
The coma-inducing compound was stabilizing Arthur's nervous system exactly as intended after the damage from the fight with Master Maximilian.
Tomorrow he should wake up.
Should.
Collin hated that word lately.
He looked toward Arthur quietly.
"…You better actually wake up tomorrow."
Boomer heard him.
But for once—
Didn't joke.
"…He will."
Collin glanced toward him.
The certainty was back again.
Simple.
Firm.
Like Boomer genuinely couldn't imagine a reality where Arthur stayed like this forever.
Maybe that was childish.
Maybe that was faith.
At the moment Collin honestly couldn't tell the difference anymore.
Still—
It helped.
He nodded once.
Then finally left the room.
The door slid shut behind him with a soft hiss.
Silence settled briefly afterward.
Miles immediately looked toward the closed door.
Then back toward Boomer.
The walrus leaned back slightly in the chair.
"…Well."
He looked between Arthur and Miles.
"It's just us now."
Arthur did not respond.
Miles grabbed one of his own feet.
Boomer pointed.
"That's probably the smarter reaction honestly."
The fox kit wrinkled his nose slightly before rolling awkwardly onto his stomach.
Boomer immediately leaned forward.
"…Oh no."
Miles pushed upward shakily with both hands.
One tail flopped sideways.
Then the other.
Boomer's eyes widened.
"…You're mobile now?"
That realization visibly horrified him.
"No no no no."
Miles looked delighted by the concept.
The fox kit pushed again and managed approximately three inches of unstable crawling before collapsing dramatically against the blanket.
Boomer stared.
"…Anarchy Below."
Miles squeaked proudly anyway.
"You moved less distance than a spoon falling off a table."
Another happy squeak.
Boomer rubbed lightly at his face.
"I'm too young for this."
The fox kit immediately attempted another crawl.
Boomer pointed sternly.
"I see your ambitions and reject them."
Miles ignored him completely.
Boomer sighed heavily before standing and carefully lifting the fox kit from the crib.
Miles immediately latched onto the front of his shirt.
"…Okay wow your grip strength is still deeply concerning."
The baby simply chirped sleepily and settled against him.
Boomer froze slightly.
Because this—
This part still got him sometimes.
How tiny Miles was.
How trusting.
Like the world hadn't already proven it could be monstrous.
Boomer adjusted his hold more carefully almost automatically.
"…Y'know," he muttered softly, "you picked a weird time to be born."
Miles yawned.
Boomer glanced toward Arthur.
"…Your family—dad?—brother?—whatever, HE, is even weirder."
The unconscious hedgehog remained silent beneath the low glow of the medical monitors.
Boomer slowly walked back toward the chair before sitting again with Miles resting carefully against his chest.
The fox kit's two tails swished lazily against Boomer's arm.
"…Still can't get over that," the walrus muttered.
"You got extra tail budget somehow."
Miles blinked up at him.
Boomer blinked back.
"…Do foxes normally do that?"
No response.
"Helpful."
The room grew dimmer as evening continued settling over the old base.
Soft mechanical lights gradually activated along portions of the walls while distant generators hummed steadily somewhere deeper underground.
Miles began drifting sleepily again against Boomer's chest.
Boomer carefully leaned farther back in the chair.
Then looked toward Arthur once more.
"…Everybody's worried about you, y'know."
Silence answered.
Boomer shrugged faintly.
"Even Collin."
Another pause.
"…He just hides it under sarcasm and emotional repression."
Miles made a tiny sleepy sound.
Boomer smiled faintly despite himself.
"…You too apparently."
The walrus looked around the quiet medical room.
At the tools scattered everywhere.
At Julian's notes stacked near the monitors.
At Arthur asleep beneath dim light.
At the baby curled safely against him.
And for the first time all day—
The weight of the war outside felt distant enough to breathe around.
-------
Boomer sat quietly for a long while after that.
The medical room hummed softly around him.
Generators.
Ventilation.
Heart monitors.
All the tiny mechanical noises that made the old underground base feel alive.
Miles slept against his chest now, tiny body warm beneath the oversized blanket wrapped around him. One of the fox kit's tails twitched every few seconds in his sleep while the second remained curled lazily around Boomer's arm like it belonged there.
Arthur still hadn't moved.
But tomorrow.
Tomorrow he was supposed to wake up.
Boomer stared at him across the dim room.
"…You better," he muttered quietly.
The unconscious hedgehog gave no response.
Boomer snorted faintly.
"Yeah, that tracks."
He adjusted slightly in the chair, careful not to wake Miles.
His gaze drifted around the room afterward.
Toward Julian's scattered notes.
Toward old tools piled along counters.
Toward the cracked wall panel Arthur still hadn't fixed despite promising to do it three weeks ago.
Then finally—
Back toward Arthur himself.
Even unconscious, Arthur Sylvannia looked strange.
Not weak.
Not fragile.
Just…
Contained.
Like someone had somehow convinced a lightning storm to lie down for awhile.
Boomer remembered the first time they met.
Anarchy Below, he remembered everything about it.
Back then—
Before Sonic.
Before Arthur Sylvannia.
Before kings and armies and speeches—
Boomer had just wanted the world to hurt.
That was the simplest way to explain it.
Not fix it.
Not save it.
Not change it.
Burn it.
Burn all of it.
Maxx Acorn's regime.
The cities.
The labs.
The aristocrats.
The military checkpoints.
All the smiling bastards pretending the world wasn't rotten underneath.
Boomer had wanted revenge long before he even understood what to call it.
And Buns—
Buns had been worse.
Or maybe sadder.
Hard to tell sometimes.
The rabbit had been half machine and half rage when they met.
All sharp edges and shaking servos.
Boomer still remembered how tightly she held that plasma scalpel like the second she loosened her grip the whole world would collapse on top of her.
And then there had been Sonic.
Just Sonic back then.
A blue hedgehog with terrifying eyes and the social skills of a landmine.
Boomer smiled faintly at the memory.
"…You were real scary, y'know."
Miles made a tiny sleepy chirp against his chest.
Boomer looked down briefly.
"I'm serious."
Then his eyes drifted back toward Arthur.
He remembered the first thing Sonic did after they agreed to work with him.
Not a speech.
Not threats.
Not revolutionary propaganda.
The idiot had made them help clean the base.
Boomer nearly laughed aloud remembering it.
"You threatened ta crush my throat then handed me a toolbox."
Arthur remained unconscious.
Boomer pointed accusingly anyway.
"That's weird behavior."
And the strangest part?
Sonic had meant every word he said.
Back then Boomer and Buns had expected another extremist.
Another revolutionary lunatic.
Another person who wanted power dressed up as justice.
Instead they got—
A deeply exhausted hedgehog who genuinely believed the world could become better.
Not perfect.
Better.
That had somehow been more unbelievable.
Boomer still remembered watching Sonic and Julian together during those early days.
Julian teaching.
Sonic listening.
Arguing constantly.
The entire base smelled like burnt circuitry and cheap soup for months because neither of them knew how to take care of themselves properly.
Boomer smiled softly despite himself.
Then sighed.
"…Y'know what the worst part is?"
Silence answered.
"You were right."
That felt strange admitting even now.
Because Sonic had been right.
About them.
About the world.
About what came after destruction.
Back then Boomer and Buns only understood rage.
Tear it down.
Burn it all.
Make the people responsible suffer.
And Sonic—
Sonic had looked at the ruins around them and asked what came next.
Not because he was soft.
Anarchy Below no.
Boomer had seen him fight.
Seen the horrifying stillness in him when violence became necessary.
Sonic could be terrifying.
Not loud terrifying either.
Quiet terrifying.
Surgical.
Like someone weaponized mercy itself.
But despite all that—
He still wanted to build.
That was the part Boomer hadn't understood at first.
Why care about rebuilding a world this rotten?
Why bother saving people who'd allowed monsters like Maxx Acorn to rule?
Why exhaust yourself trying to fix systems designed to hurt people?
Boomer understood now though.
Because Arthur had changed people simply by existing near them long enough.
Buns.
Sally.
Patch.
Collin.
Even Julian.
Even him.
Especially him maybe.
The walrus looked down toward his own hands.
Hands that now built things instead of just breaking them.
Weapons too, sure.
But not just weapons anymore.
Generators.
Medical equipment.
Infrastructure.
Defense systems.
Arthur had looked at an angry little walrus who wanted to watch the world burn and somehow gone:
No, you're an engineer.
Boomer still wasn't entirely sure how the hedgehog managed that.
Maybe Arthur wasn't either.
Miles stirred faintly against him.
Boomer instinctively adjusted his hold again.
"…And now there's him."
The baby fox kit yawned sleepily without waking.
Boomer's expression softened.
Arthur being a father still felt deeply surreal.
Not impossible.
Just surreal.
Because Boomer remembered the hedgehog from before.
The one who barely slept.
Barely ate.
Who carried the weight of entire cities in silence because he genuinely believed if he stopped moving long enough everything around him would collapse.
And somehow—
Somehow that same person now had a.. son?
Brother?
Successor?
Protege?
All of the above?
A tiny little fox kit with two tails and a habit of sneezing on people.
Boomer smiled faintly again.
"…You'd better wake up tomorrow."
His voice grew quieter this time.
More honest.
"Because everybody's kinda built around you now."
That was the scary part.
Arthur probably didn't even realize it fully.
People depended on him emotionally in ways that went far beyond strategy or leadership.
He made people believe things could improve.
Which was honestly ridiculous considering how depressed he looked half the time.
But still.
He did.
Boomer glanced toward the heart monitor.
Steady.
Slow.
Tomorrow.
The walrus leaned his head back against the chair.
The room dimmed further as evening deepened into night beyond the buried base.
Miles slept peacefully against his chest.
Arthur slept beneath dim medical lights.
And Boomer quietly kept watch over both of them while the world outside continued trying to tear itself apart.