Remake! Not quite done yet, of course, since I'm remaking everything at the same time, so...
As strange as it sounds, the cage comforts me.
Yes, the great Blue Blur preferred to be locked up inside a room filled with nothing but empty crates than to face the outside world like he always did. Being held inside a prison for Chaos knows how long does that to one. My perception of the outside world had changed greatly since the last time I saw the sunlight.
Then again, many of my views and beliefs had changed.
Everything out of my cage screamed danger. Each time they had to make test, they would need chains and drugs to keep me docile, and even that didn't last. Once, they got really tired of my routine and pinned me down on a table with the help of enough morphine to kill an elephant.
The boss didn't like that. Said he didn't like his property being damaged.
Something had changed inside me during the length of my captivity. I would bite and snarl at the men who kept me in this cage, trying to hurt them as they hurt me. I felt like the lion in a pen, watching people point and laugh at me everyday, with the need to tear into their insides and show them who owned who.
The electrified walls were great dissuasive measures, but I was patient. I waited like the predator I had become, crouching in the darkness of the room, eyes fixed on the small door. Sometimes, I would spend the entire day there, calm and collected, laying in wait for one of the bastards to slips up.
One morning, a new guard got too close to the door when they feed me. He left without his right arm and half of his face. I heard them throw his corpse with the trash after they were done performing test on it.
They disnt come in to clean up the blood.
They never did.
Sometimes, I would sit and let my memories fly. They became blurrier as the time went by no matter how much I would do this exercise in a effort to kept those tiny shards of my freedom from escaping. Did Tails have brown or blue eyes? Did Amy's hammer have a sharp end or was it flat, perfect for crushing? Did Knuckles have three or four barbs on each of his hands?
I could not remember.
They slipped through my fingers like water, leaving me in the darkness with the smell of decay as company.