Well, this is a currently unfinished fic. It's also the only one I ever did based on the Sonic games/anime etc.
Oh, and even though it doesn't look like it at first, the regular Sonic characters will make appreances later in this fic, probably to save the world or some such thing like they usually do
Disclaimer: I do not own Sonic or any related characters, Sega does. I do, however, own my own characters and their personalities, so please, no stealing of them.
To Ashes, To Dust
The wind, gentle in the first time for days, blew serenely through a small gap in the trees. The grass bowed its thin fronds to the caress, almost reaching the soil. A single, small slug made its slow way across the ground, leaving a shining trail of mucus in its wake, a warning to all predators that the creature was not the meal it seemed.
Birds frolicked in the trees, each singing their call for all they were worth to announce the spot as theirs and no other's. The sky was beginning to clear from its previous dreary, overcast state, and the feeling in the great wilderness was optimistic. A rabbit hopped slowly across the green expanse, nibbling here and there on a leaf or a clump of clover. Suddenly, it stopped, lifting its head and swiveling its ears with wide eyes, fully alert.
Nothing answered its vigilance, and it went back to placidly wandering about the meadow. In its travels, it came upon an old and moss covered car that was patched liberally with rust and covered with dry, dead branches. The rabbit sniffed once, sneezed, and went back to eating a cowslip it had found.
The mystery of the car remained, silent and undiscovered where no car ought to have ever been. The windows were cracked and the tires were flat, but it had no wings, and without such its presence here was a mystery. That mattered not to the inhabitants of this meadow however; to them, the car had always been there, and always would be there forever. Perhaps this was true, perhaps not; it was one of the great questions of the unknown wilds.
A branch that was settled on the car shifted, cracked, and the rabbit sprang away to the safety of the shadows. A barely audible whisper -one that sounded vaguely like a curse- emanated from the spot where the branch had broken. The moss indented in the suspicious shape of a shoe, and then into an amorphous blob. A shadow appeared, and shifted upwards to form a shape, then a creature.
The rabbit returned, sniffing carefully by the tires of the car and looking up at the creature with a watchful eye. The ebony creature smiled, revealing white teeth in his ashen face. The rabbit, with an indifferent snuffle, returned to its interrupted grazing.
The shadow creature wasn't tall; in fact, he was barely three and a half feet in height. His color was uniformly black, with the exception of a single pale horn on his forehead and his stark, wide gray eyes. His tail, which was longer than some of his species, curled into a small, delicate spiral at the end, and he had a ridge of tiny plates running down his back that were the same color as his skin. On his head was a protoceratopsian crest, which started at the blunt horn, and swept back into a roguish curve.
The only clothing he wore were a pair of shoes, which were made of very durable materials to withstand even the hardest of abuse. Their color was a deep black shot with green and yellow; a stylish accent to the skin tone of the wearer, whom sat with his knees up to his chest, staring out into the meadow from his secret hiding spot.
No one would ever come here, and that was what made it the best spot for thinking and meditating while at the same time feeling safe and secure in the wonders of nature. This was one of the most isolated places on the island, one of the last places where cities hadn't sprung up and the pollution hadn't spoiled what was left of the wilderness.
That was why he was leaving, but not without sitting in this wondrous place one last time. He silently wished the rabbit, who had finished its cowslip and hopped to a dandelion, good luck, as well as the deer and other creatures that frequently visited this place. He even wished the slug the best, for the small creatures had such a slow life, and they would never be able to get away if the construction and cities came.
He sighed, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. The rabbit, now used to his presence, merely looked up with a glare before returning to its business. A bird flit to a branch next to him, twittered curiously, and flew off in pursuit of a moth that had come a little too close to be unnoticeable.
Well, it wasn't getting any earlier. With a grunt, the Chameleon turned invisible once more, and the rabbit hopped away as a line of depressions in the grass moved off towards the forest. To the rest of the world, it was just another normal day on the floating island, but to Yellow, it was his only chance to escape.
White mist covered the expanse of rolling hills, sifting gently through the air with little regard or care for whatever creatures may have been caught in it. It was of a different world, and what happened in this one was of little interest to the steadily thickening fog.
Of course, since it was night, the fog was rather more of help than a hindrance to most beasts wandering the downs. The predator was cloaked while searching out prey; the prey was hidden safely within the swirling white. It was good for all… for all except weary travelers with no sense of direction.
There, squiggling through the field is a subtle trail of disturbed grass, where moisture had been dislodged to make the track as clear as a foot trail on a summer day. Though the time was not summer, but early fall. The trees, if it had been light, would have just been showing small signs of changing color.
A spider, just putting the finishing touches on it's carefully and tediously crafted web was suddenly and roughly pushed aside as the trail meandered directly through its work. It hissed, a sound unnoticed by the unseen intruder, and started the weary work of salvaging what was left, much like the shattered families of a hurricane ravaged land do. The trail continued on, oblivious to whatever disaster it had caused, and the spider labored once more.
Lost, that was the clearest message of the track in the grass. It blared the fact as plain as any writing. Perhaps, if Yellow had bothered to search for a map before his great escape, he may have been able find his way out of the great miasma that swept through the hills. As it was, he was hopelessly and deeply lost, and beginning to feel frightened about that fact. The fog was a prelude to the seeping chill that was already beginning to creep into the air, and soon he would be much too lethargic to move, much less find his way through the labyrinth of vapor.
With a heavy heart, Yellow searched desperately for a tree or some other shelter to spend the night. He held very little hope of finding a suitable refuge, but without trying he would simply collapse out on the grass, where any number of things could happen before the sluggish spell of cold released him. He still might, when it came down to the bare facts. Yellow had never dreamed that his daring escape would take so ghastly a turn.
The fog parted before him, revealing a small, stunted tree that was less a tree than a bush. It's branches were sparse near the ground, but farther up they were thick and hung down in a virtual curtain. The black Chameleon sighed, but this shelter was better than none at all, and in fact it was better than most he would find. He crawled beneath the branches, wishing with all his being that it was a warmer night or that he knew how to spark a fire. A bit of common sense would be a godsend in this wilderness.
It was too cold; Yellow could feel his movements slowing and his mind beginning to fog. This was why his people never ventured into the higher regions of the island, but that was the only place where the giant spaceports and transports were, and Yellow had never been one to turn down a challenge. He would deal with the cold, if only he could get his chance to go planet-side. He wanted to feel what the real wilderness was, instead of living in an existence that was constrained by the limits of a simple chunk of levitated earth.
It wasn't as if there wasn't always a constant fear that the island would fall, either. It was a daily stress, but one that was in good hands. Yellow had only heard of the Guardian in stories, but he knew that a creature so powerful was unlikely to ever be defeated by any simple means. He was said to be an Echidna, a red Echidna. Yellow did not know his name.
Fog drew closer through the grass, eking out of the blades like some terrible, intelligent liquid. The trees branches kept it at bay, as well as the slowly warming interior of the small enclave under it. Yellow's mind was no longer becoming apathetic, but now the events of the day were weighing down upon him, and he found his eyes beginning to droop with fatigue. Finally, convinced that all was as well as it could possible be, he fell asleep in the sheltering boughs while the fog continued on its slow, indifferent journey.
Yellow woke with a start, awakened from a dream that he knew was a nightmare, but when he tried to remember, he found that he could not see past the vague foreboding that the dream had inspired. The Chameleon sat still for a few moments, calming himself, and then shifted his weight to look past the cage of branches all around.
It was still dark, but not as dark as it had been. The fog was visible as a faintly ghostly haze near the lightening horizon. The sun would come up soon, bringing much needed light and warmth to the chilled landscape. As it was, the air was already beginning to rise in temperature.
Yellow emerged cautiously from the small yet possibly life-saving shelter he had been in; looking around with nervous eyes to make certain that there was no one about to see him. Nothing but the chorus of morning birds and the flitting shapes of the occasional rabbit greeted his vigil. He straightened with a sigh, yawning and stretching. As he opened his eyes, he gasped, completely freezing in his considerable shock.
Golden rays of the rising sun reflected grandly, almost blinding the black Chameleon in its radiance. Hundreds of glass windows, steel spires, and the darting and flashing forms of dozens of various vehicles shone with tranquil and intimidating brilliance. The city was a bustling center of normal, everyday activity, but for someone who had spent his entire life in the secluded parts of the most remote forests, it was a spectacle to be remembered.
Finally, with a resolute shake of his head, Yellow strode through the last remaining tendrils of mist towards the majestic city. No longer was his path a wandering one, for he could clearly see his final destination before him, and nothing could stop him from getting a transport to the planet.
As he walked, what was once lush, green grass and lively calls of wildlife slowly disappeared, to be replaced by the occasional house, the lines of piping from the city, and the piles of rubbish left by those who did not want to pay the expense of taking care of it. Yellow sighed sadly as he viewed this gradual change, but he wouldn't have to be here for long. Soon, he would be on the planet, and then he could live in the wide plains, and see the animals that were so very rare on the island.
"Name, please," said the guard tiredly as Yellow approached the gates of the city.
"Yellow," said Yellow with a little hesitation.
The guard looked skeptically down at the Chameleon, one eyebrow rising in a peculiar manner before he looked down to write something in his note board. Yellow waited nervously, shifting from foot to foot while staring around him at the less-than clean metal apparatus around the gates.
"Your business here?" asked the guard without looking up from his clipboard.
"Uh, I suppose I just want to get on a transport planet-side," stammered Yellow, wondering why such thorough investigation was needed for entry into the city.
"You'll need a special pass for that," explained the guard, "and it costs a fair amount. Do you have any relatives or contacts here?"
"No…"
"Then take this pass," said the guard gruffly, handing a small, yellow slip of paper through the slot in the window separating the old Dingo from the Chameleon, "It'll grant you free room and board anywhere for two months, until you can get established or accomplish your goal. Once it runs out, you're on your own."
"Thank you," said Yellow quietly, taking the offered slip of paper.
"And take this, as well," continued the guard, passing Yellow a much thicker wad of paper, "it's a map of the city, and the areas that you'll want to visit to get your ticket are highlighted, as well as some good places to stay until your pass expires."
"Thank you," said Yellow more sincerely. His eyes looked curiously at the map, "how did you do this so fast?"
"Computer does it," said the guard, gesturing to a slightly glowing monitor on the wall, "Okay, you go through the door on the right, and good luck. I hope you accomplish your goal, not many people do, nowadays."
Yellow bowed slightly to the guard, to show his respect, and darted through the specified door. He was exhilarated by his luck, and his excitement made him less sharp than he should have been. With a yelp, he suddenly realized that he was heading straight towards a collision with another person.
Yellow tried to stop, but his momentum propelled him further from where his feet had halted. He flew headfirst into the surprised and shocked other, making them both fall into a clustered and tangled heap.
Amid Yellow's profuse apologies, and loud and steady cursing could be heard from the golden shape that was pulling itself from the ground. The flustered Chameleon tried to help the angry entity to her feet, but only received a shove and an extremely vulgar insult in return.
After the stream of curses had finally exhausted itself, the golden hedgehog pulled herself to her feet in a dignified and scathing manner, staring at Yellow with nothing short of contempt. Her long and flowing spines framed her face in their gold highlights, and her outfit consisted of a tight, black top and a short, well fitting skirt.
But her eyes, those large and horrifying eyes, were what made Yellow flinch away, for they were black and expressionless over their entire surface. He muttered another apology, trying not to stare at either the eyes or the large and mangled bat wings folded tightly across the hedgehog's back.
"You should watch where you're going," she snapped, "Damn county boy."
"I'm really terribly sorry," said Yellow lamely, "perhaps I could do you a favor sometime to make it up to you. I'm Yellow, by the way."
"No you're not," said the gold hedgehog, puzzled out of her insults, "You're very obviously bla… Oh. Well, if you feel you must do me a favor, I can always use the help of a Chameleon. My name's Illusion; if you ask about me anywhere, be sure to ask for "Storm Eyes", most people will tell you where to go."
With that, Illusion walked briskly past the Chameleon and through another door, disappearing from sight. Yellow looked after her for a second, then shrugged and continued on his way.