Time for practice.



It was the start of the indoor track and field season, also known as the only reason he ever went to the other side of Emerald University's campus. He got in some steps on the way there, earbuds plugged into his ears and music blasting to drown out the crowds of students around him. There was no one. Just him, his goal, and his favorite band.



He didn't like much about the university. He hated the students, hated the classes, hated the buildings. More than anything, he hated that he had to be there. The university would have surely noticed their biggest sponsor's oldest son, the one at a fresh college age, missing from their roster. At least he didn't have to deal with his father at home since winter break was over.



It was his second year with likely six more to go. He just needed to spend his youth on obtaining an astronautical engineering degree, go for a masters and then a doctorate, then work for his father and have the cycle repeat in his career. Work for the top, do something else for his dearest father. Dedicate his projects to his father, attribute every skill to his father, and one day die for his father. His entire life had been laid out for him, his goals set, his expectations as complex as the major he was forced to pursue. He was to aid in his father's ever expanding goal to spread his face and reach other stars, other planets. The great Dr. Ivo Robotnik's oldest son instead watched others ascend while he was chained to the earth.



He didn't know what to do with his life. He just knew he hated it. Hated everything except track.



Not even his rival team member could ruin his favorite sport-- and that rodent certainly tried. He and Sonic looked like brothers. They were both hedgehogs, both similar heights, both similar skin and similar fur colors... They even shared the same name. Besides personality, their distinct differences lie only in their eye color and their body structure. Sonic's eyes were bright green, his build light and athletic and free. His own eyes were a sharp crimson red, and his body, though incredibly strong, had been partially covered by his father's own technology. An accident horribly injured him as a child... He didn't even remember what it was. But part of his chest, one of his shoulders, and his spine were reconstructed with the finest materials imaginable; without them, he wouldn't be able to walk or breathe, not even feel his heartbeat. His own survival was a testament to Dr. Robotnik's genius.



Such a burden grew up with him, haunted him into adulthood, lingered in every aspect of his life. His peers teased him with the name 'Metal Sonic' to the point that he heard it more often than not. He started referring to himself that way to take ownership of the insult and eventually began to prefer it. When he joined track in his freshman year, the team referred to him as 'Metal' so they could properly differentiate between the two different Sonics. Metal was an even better alternative. It was better than 'Sonic' in every way.



Metal thought it was a cruel joke to have met someone part of the track team that carried a similar appearance and name, even crueler that he was considered Emerald University's shining star. Being number two was an accomplishment for most, however it was unacceptable for Metal. Number two simply meant he wasn't number one.



He practiced harder than anyone else to escape his shortcomings. All his time spent away from studying was spent improving his body. He ate the correct foods, drank only pristine water, and he exercised every part of himself. Every day was an improvement. Every day was a greater promise of beating every single one of Sonic's records.



His first year was embarrassing. He was one of the slower racers at the start, finding it difficult to balance running with his fragile heart. He couldn't get to the end of a sprint without feeling lightheaded, sometimes he'd nearly collapse while trying to catch his breath. He was told the sport wasn't for him.



There was a fire within him that refused to let the sport go. His embarrassment translated into rage. The other Sonic was naturally gifted, effortlessly fast. He would prove to Sonic that living effortlessly was a mistake.



And he did. He showed the greatest amount of improvement over the entire year, and by the end, he rivaled Sonic directly. In some ways, he was even better; he worked on his weaknesses and turned them into his greatest strengths. He had incredible endurance, and when he really needed it, he could sprint with every fiber of his being.



But he still got second place.



He remembered what that horrible hedgehog teased on the last day of the previous season:



"Hey! Keep it up and you'll beat me by senior year."



Senior year. Sonic was a fool. Metal trained off-season and even off-campus when the university was closed. Senior year was three years too late-- he would best Sonic this year and it would be by a wide margin. He was ready to show all of them what he could do.



Metal controlled both his breath and his temper, deciding to shake away thoughts about his rival. He wondered how the team changed since the previous semester. He wasn't sure how to feel about familiar faces or not... He mutually disliked them. But, they were a team, so as long as they worked towards their goals and played to each other's strengths, they would dominate each track meet.



Finally, the indoor track. He removed his ear buds and put away his phone to focus. There were plenty of people here, though only a few of them would be at the next competition. Easy win for Metal. Predictably, no one approached him and he approached no one else. From what he could gather, there were some new faces, some agonizingly familiar ones, and...



Sonic noticed Metal and approached him all while dressed in appropriately tacky training clothes. He passed a knowing smirk and lifted his hand in a simple wave. Metal didn't know why he got singled out by him every time they met and it certainly didn't get less annoying.



"Hey, Metal!" he beamed in a voice way too excited for what was going to be a training session. "Have a good break?"



"I'm not here to chat," Metal growled in return. "I'm here to destroy your accomplishments."



"Ooh, tough talk. I've been doing some training of my own, tough guy. You might be surprised how much I've improved." He playfully tapped his own nose.



"Tell yourself whatever you can to soften your defeat, Hedgehog."



Sonic laughed. "Gotta say, your attitude's an improvement over last semester. I think we'll have fun!"



Fun. Of course he would say something so jovial. Others around noticed Sonic's friendly behavior, something they wouldn't dare themselves when it came to Metal. Sonic, as the superstar himself, could do whatever he wanted and approach whoever he liked and not a word would spread about him. He had gone far and beyond to prove himself already.



Anyone else, though? Why would they willingly associate with the ominous rich kid unless it was for a specific reason? Dr. Robotnik was the biggest sponsor for the university, but he was far from popular among the students. Many even blamed him for the declining state of the world and its environment. Metal assumed that they also blamed him to some extent. They felt that Dr. Robotnik's decision to have five adopted children was a public stunt, especially since one of them ran away. Metal didn't run, so they blamed him for surviving and existing in the same space as them.



He didn't want to study at the university, but he did want to exist. He intended to make his own mark, separate from his father. He hoped doing something with track and field would be a start.



Metal put away his stuff and changed into his own track outfit, far less gaudy and ridiculous than his rival's. No longer in winter clothes, the parts that gave his nickname were visible on his left. His entire left shoulder was silver-gray in color and contoured the left part of his chest. A brief sliver of metal was visible at his neck, then it extended down his back. He was glad his back quills took more of a focus. Newer students gawked at him, but he was used to ignoring everyone who did.



The coach arrived, so their drills began. They did their warm-ups, their general exercises, and then finally, the trials.



The coach announced that they'd all be timed in each track and field category to mark their improvements over the season. Each participating member had their times written down on the board; the coach advocated for making new personal bests, but Metal knew different-- the best time to aim for was simply the best time. He would take the record this semester, especially for all the sprints.



Sonic went first to give a goal for everyone else to dream of. After the timer began, he zoomed down the track. Metal watched him carefully; he ran with an annoying amount of grace like he knew he was untouchable. The ego on him was disgusting. Metal impatiently tapped his feet, waiting for his turn. Despite Sonic's earlier gloating, he didn't seem to be particularly faster than--



The coach wrote down a time on a nearby white board after Sonic crossed the finish line. He shaved off two seconds from his already impressive time.



The other members exclaimed in awe and excitement. Metal invited himself towards the starting line, passing a glare at the coach.



"I'd like to go next," he said. Despite his intense stare, he spoke in a polite tone.



The coach gave a smirk and reset the timer. Metal took his position. He felt everyone's stare on him.



"Anddd... Go!" called the coach.



Metal took off. He cleared his head, focusing on his feet and the path ahead of him. Along the way, he felt lighter. He was excited. The rush of wind was invigorating. He wanted to reach the horizon and go beyond even that.



He knew how to not overexert himself, a task more daunting because of the metal that cased his pounding heart. He pushed himself, then let go for the briefest moment before pushing himself again. He saw the finish line and shot for it.



He passed it. The coach wrote down a time while Metal slowed down to catch his breath.



"Great work, Metal! You're at your personal best already and it's only the beginning of the season," the coach beamed.



Metal checked the board. His time improved by three seconds...



But it was still behind Sonic's by half a second.



A hand clapped onto his bare shoulder.



"Whoa! Nice, man," Sonic said from beside him.



Metal slapped his hand away. "Get away from me," he hissed. He walked past Sonic, abruptly bumping past him with his metallic shoulder. Sonic stumbled away a little, frowning. He supposed not too much changed over winter break.



The rest of the practice went the same. Metal would have excelled in every category if it weren't for the Hedgehog beating him every single time. Second place, second place, second place. His nickname should've been Silver.



At least he improved and he only had more reason to. If there was anything he did better than Sonic, it was that his improvements were nothing to sneeze at. Statistics suggested he would outpace Sonic very soon... Getting there felt so frustrating, though.



First day of practice done, so Metal found it best to grab something to eat from the university's convenience store and go back to his dorm. He didn't feel like messing with his music, so he just walked and hoped to not overhear anything particularly annoying.



He hoped far too soon.



In the campus's central walkway, a few students were handing out flyers for something aggravatingly peppy. He had an unfortunate encounter with the hedgehog there, egregiously pink with her quills straightened and pulled back by a headband. She eagerly waved the flyer, hoping other students would take it.



He recognized her from past track meets. She cheered very loudly for their team, but she especially cheered for Sonic. She was another useless fan, so she was another person for Metal to avoid.



"Hey!" She called as he tried to pass by. Something possessed him in the moment to stop and look at her. He hoped the disinterest on his face said enough. She didn't seem to notice: "You're the other Sonic, right?" she called.



His brow twitched. Her phrase was another reason he disliked his name. He apparently wasn't good enough to just be 'Sonic'; it always had to be 'the other Sonic'. The alternative. Why would anyone want to be named Sonic when there was apparently supposed to be just one?



"I recognize you from the track team, but I don't think I ever said hi before. I'm Amy," she said cheerfully. "I help organize some student events and we're having one soon to welcome students back from break and help them get re-acquainted with the new semester. You should come by!" She offered him a flyer. "There's free food~"



He glared at her. "I recognize you too. You're the other nuisance, right?" he hissed out. "I'm not interested in your pointless get-together."



Her eyes widened. "Uh-- Okay, I apparently said something that struck a nerve, but you don't have to be an asshole," she replied, raising one of her brows.



"If you watched more than Sonic the Superstar at the track meets, you shouldn't be surprised." He slapped her hand away, causing her to drop the flyer.



"Ah-- hey!!" she yelled. "What's your problem?!" She leaned down to pick up the flyer. When she stood back up, he was already far past the central walkway. "What a jackass," she grumbled under her breath. She sighed and cleaned stray dirt off the flyer. She heard gossip about Metal before, though she knew words spread as freely as they did falsely. He was supposedly the rich kid that cruised through college since they wouldn't let anything less happen to a Robotnik prodigy. With riches came a horrible attitude. She was disappointed to find out it was actually true.



What a jealous streak, too. Ah, well. She tried to let the unpleasant interaction go and continue her mission of gathering interest for the next student event.



Metal grabbed a brief meal from the convenience store and ate it on the way back to his dorm. He entered the building, ascended the stairs, and went up to his private room. He was glad he never had to ever be paired up with anyone else; with these dorms, only the bathroom was shared with one other person, but that wasn't really a big deal. He entered his room, clean, organized, and decorated with some posters and nic-nacs he took from home.



He slung his backpack to his desk chair and slapped some text books on the empty half of his desk; the other half was occupied by a laptop. One of the corners of his desk had a lamp and a couple action figures under it; they were colorful and menacing mechs from a show he enjoyed a lot as a kid. He grabbed one of the figures and casually wiped it to keep it free of dust. With a sigh, he placed it back down and moved his backpack to finally sit down.



He was relieved to be alone... So tired from a long, busy day. He had three two-hour long classes in a row and then had to go to track right after. He had four classes two days of the week, one of them three hours and stretching into the evening. At least there was a bit of a break after two of them. He wished he took one less class at the very least, but he wasn't at the university for fun. There were classes to attend... There was work to do. He was lucky he had time for activities like track at all.



He shot an empty stare at the books on his desk. He knew he needed to get everything out of the way so he wouldn't be so overwhelmed the next day. It only took one day of slipping up to be behind... Track proved to him that even if he didn't slip up, he could still be behind.



Brrrzt! Brrrzt! His phone vibrated in his pocket.



He let out a frustrated exhale through his nose. There was only one reason he'd get a call. He took his phone out and checked, only to have his guess confirmed as fact; the screen brightened with 'Father' in large text in the top-center. Metal answered the call and held the phone to his ear. "Coming," he said, then immediately hung up.



Just like that, he had to go.



Metal's family lived far from the university, but that didn't necessarily matter to his father. He traveled everywhere with one of his gaudy jets and especially visited the university to keep in touch with board members. Another unfortunate side effect was Dr. Robotnik's desire to keep checking on his eldest's metallic parts and make changes.



His goal was never to improve Metal's life; if he felt better after a checkup, it was a coincidence. He was tired of being poked and prodded, but he had no control over it. At least he didn't call during class this time... He did it several times before.



Metal walked to the university's clinic. The faculty there knew him well, their expressions full of pity since they'd never utter a word.



"Room 3," the receptionist up front said and gestured to the hall with the exam rooms. Metal said nothing, walking down the hall and making his way to the designated room. He wouldn't be surprised if the staff were instructed to always let him by.



No father yet. Instead, his father's most faithful servant, a human by the name Mr. Stone, waited inside. Metal crossed his arms and sat in the exam chair, wordless and waiting.



"Hey, champ," Stone said cheerfully. Metal hated Stone's pathetic attempts to be on better terms with him; it never worked. He tried to be a father when Dr. Robotnik didn't, and he knew it was all just for formality's sake anyway. "Did you settle back into your dorm well over the weekend?"



Metal gave a single nod, keeping his attention on the floor's tile.



"How are you feeling?"



"Fine," Metal replied.



"No shortness of breath?"



He shook his head.



Stone stared at him for a little while. "... No attacks?"



"No," Metal replied, returning his stare.



Stone broke eye contact and scribbled something down on his clipboard for a while. "Well, that's good. You haven't had an attack for four months now, and you've been pretty active. You haven't had any trouble with sports?" His eyes flicked back to Metal.



Other than losing, no. Metal shook his head.



"Alright, let's do the usual stuff. Afterwards, Dr. Robotnik will check on your tech."



Metal sighed and pulled his shirt off.



Blood pressure, normal. Had to draw some blood for studying later. Reflexes, excellent. Metal was functioning as he should have been. His heart had a typical rhythm and he was able to take deep breaths with ease. Legs worked fine. He had to do this routine every single time. Each action caused Stone to write something down in that same clipboard.



Satisfied with the exam, he left the room. Metal hugged his arms and tapped his feet against the floor.



After a few minutes, a tall, moustached human walked in. Dr. Robotnik. Metal didn't lift his head to acknowledge him, instead waiting for the next part of the checkup.



"You got some nerve, boy," he started in a low tone. "When you answer my phone calls, you listen to what I have to say!"



"I already knew what you were calling for," Metal grumbled in reply.



"I'm here to make you better, yet you act so ungrateful. The only reason I haven't ejected you from that paltry sport you enjoy so much is because it benefits my work."



Metal scoffed to himself and didn't reply, making Dr. Robotnik growl in irritation.



"At least you haven't done anything stupid to threaten my reputation." He held out a metallic tool to pick at the plates on Metal's body. A panel opened at the base of his neck; Metal went as still as possible. "The wiring looks good, the plates undamaged." He focused on Metal's chest and opened another panel; in front of his heart was a bright blue circle of light. "Energy core seems to be stable. You have proper energy levels, so I think everything's functioning as intended."



Proper energy levels? He felt exhausted by this point. He wanted to go back to his room.



"You're expected at an interview next month," Dr. Robotnik said, changing the subject. He checked Metal's chest some more, then closed the panels. He examined the areas where the metal met his skin.



"I have to study," Metal quietly replied. "The start of the semester is always packed."



His father sighed. "I'd normally call you out, but I do prefer you focusing on your classes. I trust you've been using your time well. If not..."



Metal directly glared at his father. "I'm an adult," he retorted. "You talk so much about how everything I do at the university is my responsibility, that I have to solve my own problems, but you breathe down my neck and threaten to take away my interests like I'm in middle school."



"You're not just an adult," Dr. Robotnik hissed back. "You're a Robotnik-- and a childish one at that. I control this campus, everything around it, everything in it, including you. You'll remember well to not mess anything up."



Metal clenched his teeth and dug his nails into the exam chair. He didn't respond.



Dr. Robotnik made a more dramatic sigh. "I'm not paying for your classes so you can be normal. Excellence-- transcending above all these other nitwits-- isn't achieved by chasing your pointless hobbies. Continue to work hard, remember why you're actually here, and maybe you'll get rewarded."



"Yes, Father." Metal doubted the reward was anything worthwhile to him.



Dr. Robotnik put away the tools he used for examination, so Metal took it as permission to put his shirt back on. Dr. Robotnik crossed his arms. "Call me immediately if you notice any changes. You can go now. Oh, right--" he checked a chair in the room and picked up a small bag, offering it to Metal. "Sage wanted me to give something to you."



"Thank you." Metal hopped up from the exam chair and left the room. While walking towards the building's exit, he checked the bag... He pulled out a knitted hat, red and with two holes for his ears. Sage, his little sister, often liked knitting in the winter months.



The hat looked better than her previous attempts. He was surprised she had any time to knit at all; though she was clearly preferred as the youngest sibling, she had to do nearly as much work as he did.



... He put the hat on as he went outside and made his way back to his dorm, finally.



He didn't like listening to his father, but he would still work hard. If anything, he'd work hard for himself. He had to take control in what ways he could, however little they were.