WARNING: This portrays Sonic the Hedgehog in a different light than
most fans are used to, and his character, as well as others in the series,
are changed drastically. Approach with an open mind.
RATED R FOR STRONG LANGUAGE AND VIOLENCE!!
Sonic: Sketchy
Concept by M.C. Griffen
Story by Sean Catlett and M.C. Griffen
Sunday
This place. I can’t stand this place. The walls seem to no longer accept
me, rejecting me. I couldswear that this place is alive. It’s almost like
the inside of an organ, and I’m like a foreign invader, areplacement limb
taken from a different species. It knows I don’t belong here, it knows that
I am all wrongfor the tasks it needs me for, and worst of all, it knows
enough to get rid of me. It’s now trying to sweat me
out of its pores.
So I do the thing I’m built for . . . . . .
I run.
It seemed all I did was run anymore. Running is what I did best, but I was
required to do so. This wasn’t freedom, only doing what was needed, then
retiring for the day. Well, now I wasn’t running for him. . . . . . I was
running for me.
You see, I was the Eggman’s errand boy, his little lackey. I was expected
to do whatever,
whenever, however he wanted. One of his many slaves, but even that’s a lie.
He made me better than that.
I remember when I was born, about 4 years ago (well, I wasn’t so much born
as I was created, invented, made, and pieced together from blue plastic and
hedgehog anatomy). I had the distinct feeling of content ness with my work.
I used to have to round up new subjects for Robotosization, but now he has
more capable robots for that. Now I’m just used as a Gopher boy. But once
again, I’m too good for both of those jobs.
You know, now that I think about it, I realize that I was, at one point,
almost as bad as he was. I never questioned orders, or thought of the moral
implications of sending living creatures off to their enslavement. In fact,
I almost enjoyed hearing them whimper and squirm as I escorted them to the
Scrap Brain Zone.
Until one day, when my outlook changed.
**********
I call him ‘Boomer‘, because I didn’t know his real name, and ‘Boomer’
pretty much summed up his appearance. A fat, slightly taller than twice my
height, walrus. Sort of fat, but not THAT fat. I speculate that Robotnik
must have engineered his kind to withstand a grassy, forest environment, as
I assumed a regular walrus would have been uncomfortable in such a place.
‘Boomer’ was damn sure uncomfortable now, but he did his best to hide it as
he was escorted to the Scrap Brain Zone to be Robotosized. Two Buzzbombers
flew both in front and behind, but they wouldn’t have been needed. He
couldn’t have outrun me even if he tried.
‘Boomer’ was squirming slightly as he walked. He looked like he wanted to
talk to me, but was working up the courage. It was almost like he was a
little scared of me (I would’ve been).
He finally said something. “Would you . . . . mind telling me where you’re
taking me?” he said innocently.
“It’s best not to know,” I told him. I saw no point in telling him, since
it wouldn’t matter in a couple of minutes anyway.
He turned his head ever so slightly towards me. “I’ll try.”
I said nothing, just walked with him.
“It’s just that I can’t stop thinking about my family, back at Knothole. I
went out to find food about 2 hours ago. They’ll be beginning to wonder
about me.”
Knothole, did he say? I wasn’t familiar with that name. Must have been a
city in one of Robotnik’s holding zones.
“I haven’t seen you before, in any of the cities I’ve ever visited,” he
continued. “Where do you come from?”
Hmm, sounds like he thought that I was captured with him. (Hell, I was
starting to question whether he knew he was captured himself!).
“Here,” I said, motioning around me, indicating the entire metal structure
towering around us, neon beams pulsing.
His eyes grew wide. He stopped walking and suddenly was very energetic and
excited.
“I KNEW you were as important as you looked!” he exclaimed. “It must be
wonderful to live with the demigods.”
Demigods? Did he mean the Buzzbombers?
“I’ve only heard stories,” ’Boomer’ babbled on. “about how only worthy
people are chosen to come live here. Is . . . . Is this why I’m here. Have I
been chosen?”
. . . . . . . . . Ok, this was starting to irritate me. Did everyone like
him think that those assholes were demigods?
“Is it as wonderful as I think, living in paradise?”
I couldn’t listen to this anymore. I stopped walking and turned angrily to
him.
“Shut the f*ck up and listen the f*ck up! Your ‘Gods’ are machines! The
Death Egg is not f*ckin paradise!! And the only thing you have to look
forward to is helpless enslavement. Dwell on THAT and quit bothering me . .
. . . . .!”
**********
It took me about 6 months after that incident to realize what a f*cking
fink Robotnik is. I finally took some initiative and decided to first start
by hacking into the Death Egg’s central computer. It took me a year to
memorize the entire database.
It would have taken me a lot faster, but hacking into a maximum security
computer isn’t easy when a security ‘bot goes by every 10 seconds. As fast
as I am, I can only do so much with that small of a window. And I was VERY
careful.
I had made a promise to myself to memorize every bit of information
contained in the database, so I would be totally prepared for what I was
about to face. I had plans for leaving Robotnik’s lie, but I had never been
outside the Death Egg, which I learned stood in the exact center of
Robotropolis, his ENTIRE domain, which stretched for miles on end. I knew
for an area of that size, a computer database about it would be huge. I knew
it would take awhile, especially if I was meticulous with not getting
caught, but I wanted to make sure that I at least knew most of what I was up
against.
While I couldn’t hack or assimilate information, I made sure to keep up the
front that I was still a happy little worker. I kept doing what I had been
doing, leading mammals off for Robotosization, even though it made me sick.
And every weekend, the Eggman would ask me to accompany him to the
screening room, which he built for some sort of flying machine. I had NO
idea why, but he would show me movies for an entire day. His explanation for
doing this was ‘to teach me valuable things about life’. I got nothing out
of it.
On one of these outings, I asked Robotnik why he built all of this. “Why go
to all the trouble?” I asked.
“I wanted to do something great for my kind,” the Eggman said. “Now I can
finally get the respect I deserve . . . .”
Just then, I realized how tangibly evil he is. Like a fat version of Darth
Vader, without the cool costume or hidden innocence. Maybe he shouldn’t have
put images of good and evil in my head with those goddamn movies. But maybe
then I wouldn’t be doing this.
**********
And here I am now, running from Robotnik and his evil. It’s been 4 years
since I was ‘born’, 2 years since I met ‘Boomer’ the walrus, 1 year since I
started memorizing information from the computer, and 1 week since I had the
last words into my head.
I then asked Robotnik for the next 2 days off (that would get me a head
start). I’m hoping it didn’t make him suspicious. He seemed oblivious enough
of my insubordination. (I wanted my 2 week notice to come in 2 weeks after I
left).
Then I took off running. I wanted out of this hell hole fast, but I also
wanted to do it quietly. This was priority #1. I tried not to think about
what to do when I left the Death Egg. Maybe I’d look for the place that
‘Boomer’ was from.
Home was a small cot on the 1999th floor of Robotnik’s round fortress. I am
now trying to get to the 150th where security starts to slacken so I can
steal a HoverUnit. Currently, I’m on the 1439th floor, and so far I’ve gone
undetected.
Even though I had hacked into the entire system, the computer was vague and
secretive about many things. For instance, it did not give away the location
of ALL the traps on ALL the floors (the official reason I thought was for
security, but I’m slightly worried about why they weren’t listed). I tried
to piece the computer info with what I had learned during my existence. Even
after that, there were still missing pieces.
I’m worried about security for a reason: the corridor in front of me is
rather suspicious (as far as corridors go, I guess). I knew absolutely
nothing about it, which is HIGHLY unusual in this place. I knew something
about EVERY corridor that I had passed so far (as far as I knew. I hadn’t
run into any trouble, so I take it I was still undetected).
I looked around the corner for the millionth time, still finding nothing. I
weighed my options:
1) Looking for an alternate route: It would take time. It’s been 3 days
since I asked Robotnik for 2 sick days. He probably is wondering why I
haven’t reported in yet. Most likely he would soon discover I was nowhere
near where I was supposed to be. The clock was ticking down . . . .
2)Backtracking a short ways back: Again, more time would be used. Slightly
less, albeit, but it was still using a precious commodity. Plus, I would be
pressing my luck with the patrol ’bots I’ve already fooled (this one holds
the same problems as the above choice).
3) Taking my chances in the hallway: The more I thought about it, the more
easy this decision seemed to me. If my intuition turned out to be bogus,
then I would’ve wasted valuable minutes if I’d chosen the above 2 choices.
God could I use some time.
Then again, if it WAS a trap, all hope for me would be lost. Robotnik sure
as sh*t wouldn’t let all this slide. He would most likely send me to
conditioning, Robotosization, or possibly total eradication. His other
creations would LOVE that (I was increasingly becoming more and more
unpopular with them since Robotnik favored me. It would be wonderful to them
if I left, but even more so if they were the ones who got rid of me). But I
wasn’t going down without a fight.
I decided to take my chances with the corridor. If you didn’t take risks,
you got no rewards. I started walking up the hallway, confident and sure of
myself for the first time in days.
Then the floor dropped out from under me.
**********
“ . . . . . . is EVERYONE as f*ckin naive as you?!”
I finished my long tirade of explanation. ‘Boomer’ just stood there,
looking completely crushed.
“No . . . . . ,” he muttered. “You’re lying.” He looked like he was either
about to cry or scream at me. Couldn’t decide which.
He responded in the way I expected him to, but I couldn’t blame him. I
might have the same way (except I wouldn’t have acted like such a bitch
about it).
“Then . . . . . . Why was I chosen?”
“Listen, you weren’t chosen, you were f*ckin captured. You just happened to
be where the
Buzzbombers were. You were captured because of Robotnik’s need for you . . .
.”
“Who’s RoBUTTnik?” he interrupted.
My patience was wearing thin. I did my best not to yell at the guy.
“That’s RoBOTnik. This is his place, Robotropolis. It’s his domain, his
HOME. Robotnik needs you for two things: labor and power. Because of his
domain’s size, it needs a lot of maintenance. And that’s where you come in.”
I suddenly turned into “Joe the explainer” from all those movies Robotnik
made me watch. I didn’t care. I was pissed.
“So . . . . what now?” he shakily asked, small tears streaming down his
face.
“You f*cking putz. Right now, I’m supposed to escort you to the Scrap Brain
Zone to be
Robotosized. Now, I know that doesn’t sound good, and that’s because it
isn’t. Now, wipe off your face and quit ‘yer f*ckin blubbering (he cant
stop his blubbering, he’s a f*ckin walrus).”
**********
I fell for what seemed like a long time, which was good, since it gave me a
chance to rest, but more for a chance to mentally chastise myself for being
so goddamn stupid. “I should’ve f*cking gone around!” and so forth. It was a
childish way of dealing with what happened to me. I didn’t know WHAT was in
store for me next. The voice in my head was REALLY mad at me.
Finally, I landed.
“sh*t . . . . . ” That hurt a little, sending shocks up my spine. I shook
it off and took a look at where I was.
“sh*t.” I was in the Scrap Brain Zone. This wasn’t good. It was the one
place in Robotropolis I DIDN’T want to be.
Not only did this area serve to Robotosize newly captured mammals, but it
also held their brain energies, in the form of different sized electric
arcs, all connected by powerful electricity. This harnessed the brain
energies into a useable power source. These tall electrical staffs/arcs were
as far as I could see, running from arc to arc for miles on end.
“sh*t!” I was trapped. Suddenly, flood lights turned on above me, almost
blinding me. I looked at the source of them.
“Oh sh*t!!” It was E-102, Robotnik’s personal robotic assassin, standing on
a platform above me. This was NOT going to be an easy day. To me, he looked
big and bulky, but I knew from the report (and experience with him) that he
had a full compliment of gun emplacements on almost his whole body. GATT
ling guns as arms, missile launchers on his back. He had it where it counted
for a lot. As I said, this was NOT going to be an easy day.
“So, what time do I clock in tomorrow?” E-102 didn’t laugh.
“BY ORDER OF ROBOTNIK, REPORT BACK TO DUTY, OR EXCESSIVE FORCE WILL
BE USED.”
Just my luck I’d run into this dinger bastard. I’d rather tango with 10
Buzzbombers any day than him. It’d be much more fun, because they at least
frown at you when you say something that you think is funny. E-102 just sits
there expressionless, like he was doing right now . . . . . . . I hate him
so much.
Options . . . . . . . there were always options, out of any given
situation. Taking a look at my surroundings a second time, I looked for an
option that would work in my favor. As I did, I thought back to the reports
of this place . . . .
*********
I mentally skipped through the statistical reports, and concentrated on
certain incidents. Let’s see . . . . . . there were thousands of documented
cases when Buzzbombers lost control of themselves (because of the static
that this place conducted) and flew into one of the energy arcs on their
patrols. Their casings would harden, and its circuits would short out. Every
week or so a ‘cleaner’ ‘bot would be sent to find any lying around.
**********
Then I thought of the Buzzbomber blue-print. Since they were mass-produced
on an assembly line, they had interchangeable parts, like ALL of the ‘bots
in Robotnik’s domain. Also, there was a stipulation: if in a case a
Buzzbomber’s emplacement was the only thing undamaged in a fire fight, a
completely different ‘bot whose gun placement was the ONLY thing damaged in
a fight, could take that hand gun, press the button on the side, and add it
to their body with no problem.
**********
The gun report. Pressing the button on the side would turn on the gun’s
“fit” mechanism, meaning that the gun would fit into anything that was
holding it while it was moving. In essence, ‘bots mass-produced in the Death
Egg could have a “weapon exchange program” and not have any
incompatibilities.
**********
And how was all of this useful to me? Because I see a shorted out
Buzzbomber 20 feet to my left, lying past 3 pairs of electrical fields. It
looked like a tight fit between the fields (about 2 feet wide), but it was
better than giving up. (Anything was better than giving up). But in order
for me to get to it, I needed a small distraction.
I did my best Robotnik voice impression. “E-102, shut down for the day and
come to my office, and bring my bird with you.” I was hoping to keep him
busy.
As he tried to make sense out of what I’d said, I dove to my immediate
left. I twisted my body into what I thought was a good Hedgehog pretzel, and
curled up my extremities. I missed the arcs by inches. Dimly I heard E-102’s
guns whir into place to fire on me.
Now the gun. I ignored the ‘surprisingly loud’ whirring of guns and I
outstretched my right hand. I turned in mid-air so I could easily grab it
when I sailed past. I jammed my hand into the Buzzbomber’s hardened casing,
shattering it. I found what I was looking for and gripped it tightly. This
swung me down to the ground on my right side.
Using my shoulder to absorb most of the impact, I utilized my momentum and
came up standing. As I did this, I thumbed the button on the newly retrieved
gun and sent it into ‘pedestrian’ mode. E-102’s guns were blazing. I thought
I was dead. “f*ck!” the exasperated voice in my head yelled. “You’re too
slow.”
Lucky for me, though, E-102 considered me a big enough threat to launch a
missile at me. Idiot didn’t consider what would happen if it happened to
explode next to an energy staff. Assassin indeed.
KABOOOOOOOOOM!!!!
The explosion from the staff knocked me back 50 or so yards, I can’t be
sure. It’s sketchy in my mind. But I DO remember thinking two things:
“Boy, I sure hope I don’t fly into an energy arc.” and “Heh, idiot didn’t
realize he was sitting below an energy arc.”
So, when I woke up seconds or minutes later, I realized that that was E-102
melting in the distance. Because of the explosion, the energy arcs within a
50 yard radius were destroyed. I figured that either the explosion from the
destroyed arc either destroyed the one above him as well, or I fired a shot
at it. Either way, it seemed anti-climactic to me. I kinda wanted to Buzz
saw his ass.
I walked up to him slowly, so my head would stop hurting. E-102 was
steadily on his way to becoming a melted puddle on the floor. I decided to
end his misery quickly, so I raised my foot and kicked him in his halfway
melted breast plate.
Unexpectedly, his chest exploded outward. I shielded myself from the debris
with my arms. When the smoke cleared, I had an un-obstructed view of what
made E-102 tick . . . . . . . . .
**********
“You see, Robotosization is not the direct conversion of animals to robot
as you may think it is. It’s really just the repeated placing of metal parts
upon flesh until the original animal is no longer recognizable. Then the
body runs the ‘bot parts like a battery. The “once” animal has no freewill,
because all thoughts are diverted here, to the Scrap Brain Zone, hence the
arcs of electricity. In a sense, the animal is still alive, but he is a
slave, his thoughts never being able to move it’s body. Ever see that movie
Being John Malkovich,
where . . . . . .”
My explanation was cut short. ‘Boomer’ took a swing at me.
**********
A Raccoon sat inside of E-102, tubes entering and exiting it’s body. The
tubes running from the metal shell to the Racoon were ripped out of him when
the chest explosed, and since the animal was still technically alive, there
was blood, a lot of it. More than I thought could exist in someone. The
sight of it disgusted me. It looked as if caught in a state halfway between
life and death. It’s body contorted in anguish, his arms hanging limply
outwards, the small holes all over him, and his eyes . . . . . . . it’s eyes
seemed to peer into me, still trying to call out to me. And, oh god, the
blood . . . . . . . . . . . .
The gun was no longer in my hand. I assumed it must’ve been thrown across
the room somewhere. I needed a replacement gun . . . . . . ANY gun.
E-102’s looked in good shape, just a little melted. I picked it off of his
body and pressed the button on the side. It whirred into it’s fit mechanism.
“Good,” I thought. “Still works. Wonder if it still fires.” I eyed the
Raccoon’s head.
It worked perfectly.
Just then I realized that alarms were blaring all over the place. Thousands
of Buzzbombers and God-knows-what would soon converge on my position. I
needed a way out . . . . . . . . . .
The gun. That was a way out.
I put the gun to my head. It might come to this, if I ran out of options.
“What do you do when the food is cold, the stores are closed, and all the
clocks say sh*t:50?”
You wait 10 minutes.
I lowered the gun and sat down on the cold floor. Ten minutes came too
quickly.
**********
Since I was built to be super fast, I perceived everything differently, as
if life were moving in slow-motion (that‘s the best I can explain it). I saw
the punch coming way before it was halfway to my head. I ducked it with
ease, but didn’t fight back. I wanted to see what he would do next.
‘Boomer’ must have realized that I was too fast for him, because he went
after the nearest Buzzbombers, which happened to be the 2 in front of us. He
sent the one on the left flying into the wall with a Rabbit punch, and took
care of the one on the right by twisting it’s head around and pulling it
off. He was strong for a fat f*cker.
The last 2 Buzzbombers came up quickly behind him as he was busy twisting
their comrade. They swung their stingers out at him and dove full speed at
his back. Quickly, ‘Boomer’ turned around and threw the head of a Buzzbomber
at one of them. One of them was completely knocked to pieces, while the
other continued its dive. No time to dodge it, ‘Boomer’ jumped backwards and
slapped his hands together to catch the stinger.
It worked . . . . . sort of. He didn’t succeed in stopping the stinger, but
his hands diverted it to just above his shoulder, making it stick into the
hard metal floor. The Buzzbomber now stuck, he slammed both his fists into
it head, breaking it. Cut up his hands to sh*t, though.
I was impressed slightly, although he now had to deal with me. Unless he
had a truckload of back-that-sh*t-up, he was f*cked.
“You done?” I asked plainly. “Because now that you’ve destroyed what is
most likely two of your former friends, you should have any heroics out of
your system. Now, come with me, or I break every finger in your hand.”
“Please, I don’t want to fight anymore. I just want out of here.” He raised
his hands in the air non-threateningly. “Help me. Please.”
“No. I have a f*ckin job to do! And willfully or unconscious, you’re coming
with me.” I started toward him.
He didn’t back away. He just stared at me.
“You’ve never left here, have you?” I stopped walking. He continued. “This
is all the world you’ve known? Do you REALIZE how pathetic that is?!” I
continued walking at him.
“Listen, I can help you. Come with me. I can show you the outside world,
the world you’ve only heard about, only DREAMED about. Sounds intriguing,
doesn’t it?”
I kept walking until I was right up to his face. Then I hit him in the side
of the head, knocking him out.
**********
What a day.
My life has meant nothing until now. Sitting in this stolen HoverUnit,
piloting through narrow sections of tubes, after just recently killing
hundreds of Buzzbombers with living creatures encased inside them that I
most likely made enslaved. It was not until now that I realized how
decidedly evil and corrupt I was. There is almost NO chance for redemption.
Almost. If I can do one thing right in my life, I can stop him. Robotnik.
The epitome of all evil in this world. If I can stop him, kill him, before
any more innocents are raped of their lives, I might be able to call myself
a decent creature. My hate for him is so great it overflows my veins like a
lava flow.
When I kill him, it will be the most painful, degrading, deserving death he
can get. And it will be beautiful. It will turn uglier the more I beat his
dead body with a lead pipe. That was MY definition of justice.
Currently, my situation could have been a lot better. Security was on full
alert and coming after me with a vengeance. My gun had since long run out of
juice. I was fighting with my hands and quills now. I could kick serious ass
as long as I wasn’t attacked with great numbers, but that was looking less
and less like it would happen.
I found the HoverUnit sitting alone in an isolated hanger. I took my
opportunity and lifted off. Once I reach the outside world, I’m in sh*t’s
creek without so much as a boat. Every ‘bot within radio range would want a
piece of me.
What a day.
Artificial sunlight flooded the cockpit. I hunched over the controls.
“Bring it on.”
**********
‘Boomer’ woke up next to me and at first, he started fighting back. “Calm
the f*ck down!” I whispered to him. “You want them to catch us?!”
He stopped struggling and looked around him. The piles of metal and repair
tables must have confused him. “Where are we?”
“We’re in a HoverUnit repair room. It’s small, no surveillance, and hardly
anyone ever comes in here. Perfect for us to hide until I figure things out.
Just a patrol ‘bot every 10 minutes or so.”
He touched the side of his head and grimaced. “Um, why did you hit me?”
“I said “Alive or unconscious,” didn’t I?! Also, I’ve decided to accept
your offer. But I needed you quiet to sneak us down here, after the stunt
you pulled.”
‘Boomer’ leaned his back against the wall and sighed. “Thanks, I guess.”
Silence from him for awhile. “Sorry ‘bout taking a swing at you.
“Hey, no harm, no foul.” I shrugged.
“So, why did you decide to help me?” he asked.
“I dunno. I guess deep down I’ve always dreamed of a better way to live.
You sounded like my ticket to that life.”
“Well, I’m assuming you have a plan. Actually, more like I’m HOPING you
have a plan.”
“I do . . . . . sort of. My plan is to wait until a HoverUnit becomes
available, steal it, and sail to freedom. And freedom at this point is
probably that Knothole place you mentioned.”
“Hmmm,“ he said. “That sounds really easy. Then what?”
“ . . . . . . . . . I guess we’ll find out when we get there. Until then,
we concentrate on us getting a ride out of here.”
Again, silence from him. “So . . . . what’s your name?” he asked.
For some reason, I hesitated. “Sonic.”
“Sonic? That’s a strange name for a Hedgehog.”
I snapped my head angrily toward him. “Sorry,” he quickly added. “It’s just
I’ve never heard of a name like that. Did your parents give that name to
you?”
I was suddenly angry at him. “I have no f*cking parents! I was built! My
name just means what I do for a living. Now, do you mind shutting yer fu . .
. . .”
I was interrupted by the sound of a door opening. No time to berate him
now. A bipedal patrol ’bot came into the room.
**********
Wait. Before I continue, there are some things you should know about me and
about the place I live in . . . . . . . . .
Robotropolis. Sounds like a city, but it really isn’t. It’s actually a
man-made, domed structure with many different areas, or ‘zones’, inside.
Robotnik built it to conduct his tests on Robotosization, and the utilizing
of synapse energy in the brain and converting it to a usable power source.
But to do this, he needs subjects.
Around the edges of Robotropolis, are holding pens. These pens are
fashioned to look like a real environment, so the animals are none the
wiser. A patrol ‘bot comes by when a new subject is needed, and one that is
the most isolated from a large group is taken.
Now, I would have thought the animals would get suspicious after awhile,
but somehow they
weren’t, and I think I knew why.
At some point, a religion was introduced that said that it was a blessing
if you were taken away by the ‘demigods’ (Buzzbombers or any other robot) to
‘paradise’ (the Death Egg), which is why they never questioned why the
person disappeared. This I learned part from ‘Boomer’ and part from my own
deductions.
Here is a breakdown of the Robotropolis zones:
The Death Egg: Robotnik’s fortress, where he resides. Also houses 3 other
zones where tests are
conducted, ‘bots are built, and animals are Robotosized. Also, (this are
just my suspicions) but I think it’s built towards some higher purpose that
has been kept secret from me.
Scrap Brain Zone: Where cheap labor is born and a highly unstable power
source is utilized.
Star Light Zone: Construction point of the Death Egg. I remember being
trained here, but, oddly, only vaguely.
Labyrinth Zone: Runs the entire length of Robotropolis, but starting in the
Scrap Brain Zone. So many tunnels inside I don’t even what to think about
where some of them lead.
Circled around the Death Egg were Robotnik’s personal areas:
Casino Night Zone: The Eggman’s personal recreational area, run by some
‘bots and even tightly
regimented subjects. Basically whores and poker.
Spring Yard Zone: Another training area. Also never been. The reports place
it under the tightest of security, so I’m thinking I should avoid it all
together.
Surrounding these were maintenance areas for the ‘bots.
Chemical Plant Zone: Exactly like it sounds; a storage area for chemicals.
Huge-ass complex.
Oil Ocean: The oil refinery for all ‘bots that need oil. For something
that’s relatively small in
demand, this ocean is BIG. So huge, in fact, that it effects some areas
around it in a great way.
And the holding pens and ruined (?) cities.
Aquatic Ruin Zone: A ruined place with a stony structure, dried with dead
plants.
Green Hill Zone: Holding area #1. This is where Robotnik keeps all of his
free range animals awaiting Robotosization. The breeding is not restricted
so new subjects are almost always available, as the same with ALL of the
holding pens. ‘Boomer’ mentioned a city
inside called “Knothole.”
Marble Zone: Area with stony structures, next to the Green Hill Zone. Molten
lava surrounds it.
Emerald Hill Zone: Holding area #2.
Hill Top Zone: Holding area #3. This one sits right next to the Oil Ocean,
most likely effecting the IQ’s of the animals residing there.
Mystic Cave: Cave in the Hill Top Zone. I don’t know why it was mentioned,
really, but it was in
the report, so I assume it’s important somehow.
And, believe it or not, some zones are in the sky.
Angel Island: This island has a dark past revolving around an ancient
civilization that was destroyed by someone named ‘Chaos.’ It now serves as
base and home for a gang called ‘The Chaotix.’ Ooo, I don’t like the sound
of THAT.
Carnival Nights Zone: The recreational area for the Chaotix. It is also
apparently a source of income for them. It’s basically a family amusement
park for the other residents on the island. It’s, you know, for kids. The
Chaotix must use the money to pay Robotnik for immunity, because the entire
island is listed as off limits to the ‘bots. (How nice of them.)
Hydro City: The ruins of an ancient civilization destroyed by that Chaos
guy. It’s now engulfed in water.
Lava Reef Zone: A volcano. The term ‘reef’ is used loosely.
Sandopolis Zone: Another ruin from that old civilization. This area is
tainted by *ahem* ghosts. Yeah, ok.
Now, about me:
Some people might tell you that I’m a Hedgehog, when in fact I am not. Well,
technically not. Technically, I am a creation of Doctor Robotnik. My body is
made of a durable plastic made for high speed traveling stresses. However,
my insides ARE made from organic parts. The reports I hacked into housed a
file on me, but didn’t contain much information. All I know is that my
organs were cloned from a genetic template, then a blue-plastic was molded
on me. The plastic formed along my head and back are pointed at the ends. I
was also genetically engineered to run at super-human speeds, and couple
along with the shoes the Eggman gave me, I can break the speed of sound in 6
seconds flat. For attacking purposes, all I need to do to hurt somebody
badly is get a good head start, and curl into a tight ball. Because of the
spines on my back, I turn into fast moving buzz saw. You all know what
happens next. As for the rest of me, it’s a complete mystery. I have NO idea
why I was made, or from who I was cloned off of. I hope to GOD it’s not
Robotnik’s genes running through me. Just the thought of him coursing
through my veins . . . . .
**********
I’ve been piloting this HoverUnit for about 10 minutes. I expected an
armada of flying things to converge on me and knock me out of the sky after
the show I put on inside. But nothing. Not even a bird flew in my wake.
Strange, but I suppose I should be grateful that I’m so lucky, even the
slightest bit grateful that I even got THIS far, but I’m not. I keep telling
myself that I’m being paranoid, but the feeling of being royally screwed
doesn’t leave my mind. I keep coming up with notions in my head; always the
same “It’s probably a trap” or “They’re probably following you”, and “They
have a homing beacon planted on you,”
“Your body is set to self destruct in 10 seconds if you don‘t surrender”,
“They have you in their sights, Sonic. Turn left, turn left or you’re dead.
Turn left right NOW!” but always nothing would happen. But this didn’t stop
the nagging voice in my head. “Sonic, you f*ckin idiot. Don’t you realize
that they’re LETTING you go?!” . . . . . . . that last one didn’t sound too
farfetched . . . . . . . . Oh, sh*t!!!!!!
An explosion rocked my HoverUnit. I was already on my way out of the ship.
The door
automatically opened as I ran towards it. I dove outwards, right as the
HoverUnit exploded. The force sent me crashing to the ground faster that
gravity would have. I closed my eyes and braced myself for whatever surface
awaited me . . . . . ..
. . . . . . . . . Ooooo, soft.
Huh?
I opened my eyes. I had landed in the middle of a grassy field. A large one
at that, about 50 feet in diameter. Trees lined around the edges of what
looked to be a huge clearing. I was also dimly aware of the fact that my
HoverUnit explode from my left in a shower of flames that engulfed all the
surrounding trees, but I was more aware of the two figures standing on the
other side of the field.
Scratch and Grounder.
**********
“Quiet!” I whispered to him.
The patrol ‘bot moved slowly around the maintenance area,
searching and scrutinizing. I motioned ‘Boomer’ to follow me, to keep out
sight of the ‘bot.
I started leading him to the other side of the repair hanger. I figured
there was enough debris and such to keep ME hidden, but I didn’t know about
him. He was a fat f*cker.
I moved under a big piece of scrap metal and held up my hand. Rotor, who
was crawling on his hands and knees, stopped. I took a look over the scrap
metal pile to see where the ‘bot was.
The ‘bot was at the other side of the room, moving along the edges. Pretty
soon it would check over this area, and most likely find us.
I searched the room for an alternative. My eyes moved over several tables,
tool cabinets and metal piles. Almost nothing would accommodate for Rotor’s
size.
I sighed in exasperation. We would just have to avoid him, rather than hide
from him. I motioned for ‘Boomer’ to follow me, but to keep extremely low to
the ground. He did so, then started following me.
For the next couple of minutes, we crawled on the ground, staying exactly
on the other end of the patrol ‘bot. ‘Boomer’ was doing a pretty good job of
staying quiet and low to the ground. He flattened his body as best he could
against the floor. I was actually proud of him.
I stopped crawling when I reached shelter under a sizable repair table.
‘Boomer’ was a couple feet away, still crawling. I checked the patrol ‘bot’s
position.
sh*t! He altered his course and was only a few feet from ‘Boomer.’ I
motioned for him to stop crawling. He halted and held as still as he could.
The ‘bot must have detected motion in this area.
The patrol ‘bot swung it’s massive legs and kept walking. Sooner or later,
I knew it would find him and alert security. And then our entire plan was
sh*t. I was screwed. I had to do something . . . . . . . .
**********
Scratch conveyed a composure of pompous confidence as he seemed to stare
disappointment into me. I hated that. If I’d know these guys were waiting
for me, I would have brought some shotguns. These two were a handful.
You may be wondering, “Sonic, why are you so scared of those two?” Well,
Billy, it’s because that, even though both of them look stupid, they are
actually efficient, cold, calculating killing machines.
What made them dangerous was their appearance. At first glace, these two
look like bumbling idiots that you could swindle 1000$ out of, but they were
actually MADE to look like that.
Scratch was a tactical genius, a general in every sense of the word. He was
fashioned to look like a chicken in order to blend in with the animals in
the pens to monitor their activities. I suspect that Scratch also had a hand
in their capture.
Grounder, who was your basic grunt all terrain vehicle, followed Scratch
around whenever he could, but mostly hide close by in radio contact with
him. Information from Scratch would be radioed to him, then radioed directly
to Robotnik.
Across the grassy field from me, Scratch shook his head in mock-shame and
clicked his tongue. “Sonic, Sonic, Sonic,” he said. “Why this little
insurrection? You know it’s futile. But, I guess I should be grateful, for
it gives me a chance to make a better name for myself in the boss’s eyes.
Still, your logic escapes me . . . . . . . . .”
I looked around me. Flames from the downed HoverUnit lashed out at me from
far away. My eyes fell to the ground. “f*ck off,” I mumbled.
“Pay attention, boy!” he yelled. His patience apparently wore thin. “Now,
my orders are to take you in alive, but you’re obviously resisting arrest,
so I’m forced to use old Grounder here to soften you up a little.”
Grounder, sitting at Scratch’s left, raised his hand drills in the air.
“Grounder, remember those machines I showed you that chopped meat into
dust?”
“Sir, yes sir!”
“It’s your turn.”
Grounder started his drills moving and advanced at me.
Now, Grounder’s downfall was his mobility. He was built to be tough rather
than maneuverable, which suited me just fine. I waited about 5 seconds until
he was close enough to me, then I jumped over the top of him just before he
reached me. He had to reverse one of his tracks to turn 180 degrees. While
he was doing that, I landed punches and kicks all over his back. They hardly
made a dent in him.
When Grounder turned to me, I jumped backwards. Grounder, lucky for me,
wasn’t equipped with any projectile weapons. Unlucky for me, Scratch was. He
started firing at me as soon as I landed. I rolled away from him and jumped
on the other side of Grounder again. His drills came at me faster than I
would have imagined. As I sailed over him, a shot from Scratch’s gun hit me
in the back.
Stars flew before my eyes as I hit the ground with a thud. I shook my head
violently and my hands went to my back. Not a bad wound, I decided, after a
quick examination. Went off to the side.
I looked up and saw Grounder standing over me. He had his drill aimed at my
forehead.
“Stop!” I dimly heard. I saw Scratch walk up next to Grounder. “He’s mine.”
He pointed his gun at me. “Stand up, NOW.”
Slowly, I got up. Scratch kept the gun trained on my face.
“Turn around,” he ordered. I stood still.
He got closer to me. “Turn around!” he said in a harsher voice. That
chicken exterior made him look ridiculous. A small roar started in my head.
Scratch thumbed the control on the gun to fully automatic.
He leaned forward. “Turn the f*ck around!” he got right up to my face and
yelled. Idiot should have known I’d spit in his face if he got that close.
Scratch took the trouble to hit me in the head with the gun before wiping
the spit off his face. I fell to my knees. The wet grass felt good, and
real. The roar got even louder.
“Goodnight, Sonic.” He pushed the gun into my head. I closed my eyes.
The roaring in my ears got to be almost unbearable. I felt like reaching up
and covering my ears, but I knew that wouldn’t help. Tears started to well
up in my eyes because of the unbearable pain. Anything to quench it,
anything, even death. I wanted Scratch to pull the trigger already. Why is
he moving so slow?
Then . . . . . . . in perfect clarity, the voice in my head, the voice that
was always with me wherever I went, spoke in booming clarity. It told me
what to do, how to stay alive, and to act before life slipped away. My
saving grace. But I had to move fast. Scratch’s finger was already
tightening on the trigger.
In a fluid motion, I moved my left hand to swipe his arm. The gun moved all
the way from my head, to Grounder’s head. The gun went off.
I then used my right hand to knock the gun clean out of Scratch’s hand. He
had gripped the gun so tightly that breaking the gun loose snapped all his
fingers off.
Grounder’s head looked like a hunk of caved in metal, but I didn’t care.
All I could think about was doing the exact same thing to Scratch. No other
thought entered my head.
Scratch landed a punch in my face with his left hand, but I got him in his
stomach and his arm. I was a little surprised at how far he reeled back from
it. I started towards him.
Grounder suddenly came in front of me, limbs flailing. He still had enough
control over himself to come towards me with drills turning. And he cam e at
me fast, too. I jumped backwards as far as I could, then ran straight
towards him. I could feel the fire building beneath my shoes building. When
it felt right, I rolled into a ball and let the momentum spin me.
I felt friction go all around me, and when I stood on solid ground again,
Grounder was sliced in two pieces. History.
Scratch had apparently went looking for the gun. He was 10 feet away,
searching in the bushes, right near where I saw it land. From where I was, I
saw recognition in his eyes. He found the gun. sh*t. I looked over to
Grounder’s upper half. I quickly ran over to it and grabbed his drill bit
arm. I was HOPING that it would have a ‘fit’ mechanism button. I found one
on the side, and pressed it . . . . .
Nothing happened. I heard a small “whir,” but nothing changed. Granted, I
could still use the drill as a hand-to-hand weapon, but not a gun.
Scratch had the gun hanging at his side. He stared daggers at me. “That was
my best lieutenant you killed.”
I said nothing. Just stared back at him. Then I threw the drill bit to the
ground.
We both dove at each other at the same time.
**********
VISUAL SENSORS ON: TIME DELAY- 10000TH OF A SECOND.
WARNING: SENSORS DETECT DENSE OBJECT MOVING AT HIGH SPEEDS ON
COLLISION COURSE. SET DEFENSE PARAMETERS: COORDINATES 10387568 ALPHA
SEARCHING FOR WEAK SPOT . . . . . . . . . . TARGET AQUIRED. FIRING . . . . .
HIT SCORED . . . . . . HIT SCORED . . . . . . MISS . . . . . . .
.RECALIBRATING . . . . . . . . MISS . . .
. . . . . . RECALIBRATING . . . . . MISS . . . . . RECALIBRATING . . . . . .
. ALERT, ALERT, OBJECT IN CLOSE PROXIMITY, COLLISION IMMINENT . . . . .
ERROR, ERROR, 101000010010101010100101<>………..
**********
I stood over Scratch’s decapitated body. His head I could not find. My body
was weak from
exhaustion and the wounds in my stomach. I wobbled on my feet as I watched
the artificial sun set. I would have thought it was beautiful if I didn’t
know it was fake, a lie. Nothing in Robotnik’s world is beautiful.
**********
You want to know the truth, what REALLY happened between me and ‘Boomer?’
Well, here it is:
After I knocked him out, I started to drag him to the Scrap Brain Zone, but
before I got there, Buzzbombers came in front of me. At first they just
stood there, then they started to attack me. “Why!?” I yelled out to them. I
pleaded with them to stop firing at me, but they wouldn’t STOP. Maybe they
thought I was the one who attacked their comrades. I didn’t have a choice. I
had to kill them before they killed me.
After the 4 Buzzbombers lay in pieces around me, I looked down at ‘Boomer’s
unconscious form. Iconsidered his offer. I thought Robotnik would NEVER let
me back after the number of troops I killed. I decided to take ‘Boomer’ up
on his offer. I wanted to leave. (At least, that’s what I THOUGHT)
Remember this conversation?:
“So . . . . what’s your name?” he asked.
For some reason, I hesitated. “Sonic.”
“Sonic? That’s a strange name for a Hedgehog.”
I snapped my head angrily toward him. “Sorry,” he quickly added. “It’s just
I’ve never heard of a name like
that. Did your parents give that name to you?”
Well, he added a part just before the patrol ‘bot came in.
“My name’s Rotor, by the way.”
Why did he have to tell me his name . . . . . why? Why can’t I ever get
what I f*cking want? I want to be happy. That’s all I want. I CAN’T be happy
after I know his name and turn against him.
That’s right, you heard right. I TURNED HIM IN. I stood up in the repair
hanger and gave up. Said he tried to get away and caught him. He was
escorted back to the Scrap Brain Zone. I guess I figured Robotnik would take
me back.
Robotnik was surprisingly understanding. He gave me a hug (he dwarfed me)
and said I did the right thing. Then he did something strange.
“Would you like to see it?”
See Robotosization? Okay, why not? I let him lead me into the Scrap Brain
Zone.
I watched the unconscious walrus Rotor be strapped onto the table. I
watched tubes being inserted into his ears and neck. I watched as his eyes
snapped open mid-process, but it continued. And . . . . . I watched the life
leave his eyes . . . . . .
WHY DID HE HAVE TO TELL ME HIS f*ckING NAME?!
**********
I waited until the sun set all the way, then I let my legs give out from
under me. The world slipped away from me as I hit the soft, grassy ground.
**********
All I want is to be happy. I should be happy. That’s why this doesn’t seem
real.
The End of Sunday.
**********
Storyline is copywrited Michael Griffen and Sean Catlett. Characters
copywrite Sega.
Sean Catlett’s email: carringtonagent@hotmail.com
<mailto:carringtonagent@hotmail.com>
Sonic: Sketchy Comic: www.angelfire.com/anime2/griller
<https://www.angelfire.com/anime2/griller>
Comments are appreciated.
