Author: Stormy1x2 (travelingstorm)
Word Count: Tis a drabble – 270 words starring Manic:)
Summary: Manic used to to think his talents never measured up.
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He used to think his talents never measured up. That, among themselves, he was the unofficial 'weak link' of the team. After all, he couldn't run at Sonic-level speeds, and he couldn't do a super spin if his life depended on it (which it had on occasion, thank you very much).
But then came missions where the tricks and skills he'd learned from Farrel came in handy. No one in the Resistance could pick a lock like him, or crack a safe, or execute a clean job like the one they'd pulled off in Robotnik's museum. He couldn't buzz his way through a crowd of SwatBots, or karate chop the heck out of Sleet and Dingo, but he could hack through an 'S level' mainframe in less time than it took Sonic to down a plate of chili dogs. He could steal a guards key card from under their nose without them being the wiser. And he definitely could bring the house down with his earth-shakin' drums.
Power-wise, he knew he couldn't hold a candle to his sibs. That was cool.
After so many missions and so much time together, he finally understood. His talents were just as valuable – were just as needed. His thieving ways had become an integral part of their fighting force, and his siblings relied on his many talents – plural, see that? - to get them through one dangerous plan after another. He didn't need to be ashamed of what he brought to the fight.
...and then there was his natural talent of being the good-looking one, but hey, that had been a given anyway.
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grins I love Manic...