Lifted –TranceKing123
7/21/11: Updated.
AN: My first romance fanfic, as well as my first step away from humor. I'm doing this fic because my colab with my roommate was completely avoided. I'm still recovering from that hacker. I've gone from zero to hero back to zero. And I'm a little bit stuck at zero.
Disclaimer: All characters, places, and event associated with the Sonic the Hedgehog franchise belongs to SEGA. Other OC's, places, and events belong to me or their respective owner.
This fic is M. You've been warned.
BTW: An original idea from Glitch Effects is in here. Highland Records LLC. This story has no affiliation with my colab, Glitch Effects.
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Chapter 1 – Sander's Beginning
And there he sat. Eyes glued to his computer screen with the 78% contently staring right back at him. An accomplishment was just... accomplished, almost. And Sander knew it.
The 78% soon made a transition to 79%, but the numbers were still locked in his cerebrum, glowing florescent colors for no apparent reason.
Sander had to take his dull light blue oval eyes off of the computer screen and shift them towards the daunting yet exciting paperwork and pencil smack on his mahogany desk. He picked up his wooden beat-up pencil, putting a small slice into his snow-white gloves attached to his grey metallic skin. He started to fill out the paperwork, his hand moving like 2 crappy furniture deliverers bringing their first couch. It was basic. Name: Sander Michael Irvings. DJ Profile: I.M.S. DOB: 9/11/90
Never had Sander been so content before. He was almost signed up for Highland Records LLC, and his first masterpiece of psychedelic 145 BPM spacey distorted bundle of get-up-and-dance was now... 84% done. When those dreadful, slow as hell numbers drooped along to the 100%, he'd take his first step into a new legend.
And then it hit him. Like in a boxing match, he just took a huge blow to the face, was knocked over, and his tooth was now in his nose. He pondered into the dark thoughts and desires of his no vacancy mind. He had nobody to share this moment with.
Before dropping out of college, he was really the only student without one of the opposite gender. Most of his fellow friends, enemies, and peers had someone to share their fame, love, joy, effervescence, so on and so forth, with. Sander had... nobody.
But he had to celebrate with someone. Somehow. But who? His father committed suicide, and his mother was beaten, shot, and killed by his father. His grandparents were dead. His other members... he had none. He was the final Irvings member, locked within the black dark hole of the 2 spinning gateways into fantasy, ecstasy, and most of all, trance.
Had... no friends. He had... no family. But, if any hope were to fill his glass, it would be... a girl. One he desperately needed, thrived for, and really just wanted.
Soon he would have fans, but nobody's fan is the main host's favorite. The world isn't that simple. To find a girl, he'd need to...
...
He couldn't answer that query. Obviously, the future of hard clubbing, partying, and trying to give people something to live for would decide if Sander would get that girl.
He dragged the line along, and soon the dreaded paperwork had a stamp put on it. The pencil had cut Sander's gloves, and a shine of red was visible with the splinters of reality inside it.
Sander looked back at the computer screen. The monitor looked back with full focus, full mirage, as a 98% intently took time and smashed it somewhere around 30 and 40%. Time had never been slower. Excitement had never been higher. By now, everything was brighter, more exciting, more live, more real, more spot on, more unrealistic, more... trancy. This must've been the feeling of trance music.
Or maybe it was just the effects of the bottle of ecstasy pills, a Trinidad straight to Miami. But maybe it wasn't. The drugs haven't taken too much effect. He still had enough sense in him to realize that he needed a girl.
And there it was again. The presence was there, flowing like a wave of a Sytrus synthesizer. The fact that Sander needed a girl was here to stay, and only taking breaks when birds were falling from the sky.
But birds were falling from the sky. And tons of dead fish were being washed up onto the beaches of the Atlantic. And then, Sander did forget about needing a girl.
But after a short while, it reentered, and he was nailed to the wall again.
Sander couldn't take it. He refilled his glass with water and took another pill. He praised to the wonders of the equalizer of life and took in the harmful combo of jacking up life.
After the pill, Sander felt less tired, less depressed, and more excited for his song. He ran back to his small one screen one MIDI keyboard and cheap earphone studio sitting right next to his bed on one side, next to the TV on the other. And then there was the small kitchen and the pure white paint job to everything that finished up his shitty rented apartment.
The screen finally said 100%, and as quick as hell, he got onto the internet, e-mailed Highland Records his track with the apartment complex's internet service, and popped another pill. After that pill, he mailed his letter to the record company. But, he couldn't remember the address.
His brain was doing donuts around and around and around. A carousal of pure madness, drugs, lust, and, you name it.
He grunted. He just couldn't... he knew it was in Ibiza. He'd just have to call tomorrow.
His head became a north pole, and his desk became a south pole. As they stuck together, his top and bottom eyelids did the same thing.
And before you know it, his head and top eyelids converted.
When Sander got up, he walked over to his pill cabinet. He pushed over the bottle of ecstasy, then moved the marijuana over, than the Aleve, then the Tylenol, and finally reached the Cymbalta. He popped 2 in his mouth, with water, and swallowed.
He needed to take his mind and empty the trash within it. He could do that by... shopping? Did he need something?
Yes, he needed something. He needed to buy turntables! He'd go to the local DJ store at Station Square. He could use his Highland Records LLC card and fund it. But he needed to get that form mailed. His computer was left on, so it was possible to find the address online.
After he put the form in the mail, Sander debated on whether he should do something good for himself and so eat breakfast. He decided that the 2 anti-depressant pills he took would be okay.
And so, Sander revealed his new self into the open world. His new persona, his new fame.
But first, he would have to walk to the dance music store. It was called Remix, and it was on the far North side of Station Square. It was a Saturday, and Sander would have to pass his old college to get to the square.
His first checkpoint was achieved, but all checkpoints mean the levels, gonna get harder about right...
"Hey, what do you know! If it isn't the lonesome Irvings member. Too bad your dad had to ruin it all, right?" Laughter erupted, and Sander turned towards the college to find his rival.
"Well well well," Sander responded. "It's twiddle dee and his posse of hookers."
"We came up with a new name for you, and the name is 'piece of shit!'"
"You can't hurt me, James. I'm invincible on drugs."
More laughter arose. "Oh, you're a drug addict now. Why don't I kick your ass, and then let the cops finish off the bones?" James van Dyk was now edging his way towards Sander, with a peanut gallery arising from the dark depths of hell.
"Well, why don't I kick your ass, and then nothing happens?"
Even more laughter arose. James now sprinted towards Sander. James ran with a fist, throwing his hand right in the middle of the table so even the dealer could see it. When James was a split second from hitting Sander, he moved hit knuckles up to his chin and slammed them inwards towards James' throat. James stopped immediately and fell down. Sander ran over and stomped his foot right into the front of his throat, another deadly shot. After that, Sander moved on.
Sander couldn't believe what he just did. He had finally won a fight against his rival who he's been fighting since kindergarten. Now the drugs had kicked in, and the blurs of black and white, sepia, negative, and color were all blending together creating one giant mass of vision and feeling,
He jogged a bit towards Remix. When he reached Station Square, he heard police sirens. He dove in an alley. He knew who called and what they called for.
When the sirens were inaudible, he walked out of the alley and this time ran towards Remix. When he reached it, his hands had no blood, and his circulation must've transferred to elsewhere. He couldn't feel his hands. Sander could move them though.
When Sander walked into the shop, a ding sounded. He looked around. This truly was a store for the ages. The store's paintjobs, carpets, record alignments, and even desks, truly warped together to send the costumer into a spinning emotional vortex of confusion, distortion, and diffusion. This place really gave you a fake awake.
Sander yawned. Nobody was at the desk, but a door behind the desk was open. Inside of the door was a middle aged dark brown hedgehog looking at a computer. Sander looked around the store. He saw all kinds of awesome material including computer attatchments, records, and what he made this trip for. Turntables.
Sander looked at the first model he saw. He paid no attention to the make, but just stared at the wonder of those two slots waiting to be filled with the latest progressive, tech, and goa beauty of science, technology, and nature we call trance.
He looked around for a nice model. He figured he'd be able to tell. He found a nice model he loved, and picked up two records and put them in. Both were marked 130 BPM, so he figured it would mix fine. As he started the wonders of the technologic world, the sounds waves came blasting from the attached stereo system, blasting through the store. It rumbled the jungle of dance with loud kicks and dry snare, and rattled the selves, sending them on an endless journey into space, time, and the present... even though they were just shelves.
The brown hedgehog came running out, blaring at full speed, with a young college looking hedgehog blaring behind the angry store owner.
"You can't demo these fucking turntables. I'll have your ass reported, and the cops will kill you," blurted the obviously angry man.
"Don't hurt him, dad," challenged the young girl.
"Stay the fuck out of this, Amy. You have no fucking reason for SHIT, you hear me? SHIT! SHIT, SHIT, SHIT!" bellowed the man. He then turned around and punched his daughter right in her face, sending her to the psychedelic carpet below her.
Sander ran full force towards this hellhound and slammed his fist into the man's mouth, knocking out most of his teeth, making him scream as loud as a bass explosion, only his half-assed voice had no bass.
Sander did the same move he did to James, stomping the man's throat, putting a second stamp on his road to Alcatraz.
"I'm sorry, girl," Sander muffled out. "Can't see someone beat their own daughter. That bitch the store manager?"
"No," barely whispered an emotionally and physically hurt hedgehog, lying in her own blood, disparity, and realization. "My dad somehow took the owner's job when he died."
Sander offered his hand to help up the poor girl, but she bit it hard.
"Ow! What the FUCK! I'm trying to help."
"But you just can't hurt my dad when he beats me. I still... love... him."
Sander paused for a moment. "How long has your dad been beating you?"
The girl now paused. "...For... as long as I remember." She started to cry.
"My dad killed my mom, but I just moved on. You should move on, too."
"But I can't. I'm stuck with my dad. He's forced me to do all kinds of SHIT! I'm gonna fucking SLIT THAT GUY OPEN, PIECE OF SHIT!" She bursted her pandemonium towards somewhere, and darted back out with speed towards her father. Sweat blared, flying off her at all directions as she ran with some weird knife, the point already gazing towards the heart of her damned father. She ran over and super lunged towards his father's empty heart.
Sander, not knowing what to do, could only watch the pay-per-view drama, suspense, and violence unfold before him.
Amy dived for his heart, but her dad kicked her away. She flew a bit backwards and hit the floor. Her angered dad came running towards her. He kicked the knife out of her clammy bloody enraged hand and pulled out his own knife: a giant ass sharp as hell steak knife, only twice the normal size, shining metallic silver like Sander's quills, and his quills reflected back, giving the knife yet more and more and more shine.
"No dad, please don't kill me please don't kill me PLEASE don't KILL ME DAD!"
"Little shit," muttered the man. "I won't kill you. I'll just hurt you until you scream."
"No, dad, no!" But the wheels were turning way before she tried to convert a psychopath. His knife slowly but steadily dug deep, deep, deep into the girl's trembling left shoulder, going through as if nothing, until he got more aggressive.
The girl wasn't screaming, but crying hard, wailing the Indian Ocean. He took his knife out of her, even slower. He had her locked, stabbed, and petrified. He now superstabbed the shoulder again, with more force, anger, and drive. His hand and knife combo looked exactly like Enguarde.
He started to vigorously move the knife around like he was stirring butter, and now the girl screamed a loud... it was muffled when the man stuck his knee into her mouth with an amazingly sped thrust. He was now ripping the inside of her shoulder out.
Sander couldn't take it. He ran towards the desk, searching for a gun, but his hopes were demolished, rushed, and inadequate. No gun was to be found.
The man now pulled his knife out and stared at the drenched in blood shoulder of the girls. "You know what that reminds me of?" he thought out loud. His hand reached towards the skirt of the young lady, and he torn it in half. Clean.
He raised his knife again, but not towards his shoulder. He was gonna strike gold, blood, and cum as the tip was aimed right towards that little cherry of hers.
"OH MY GOD! NO, DAD, NO! PLEEEEEEEEEASE!" cried the helpless weeping soul as she cried to the heavens for her cherry not to be dug out of her, everything inside being scooped out like a soup spoon. Deep, deep. He might even reach her ass and pull it all out of there.
And down it came. The knife rocketed towards her womenhood on a crash course to rip everything in it out.
The girl closed her eyes and gritted her teeth hard and heard a loud BANG ring throughout the store. Blood flew in frenzy, and she could feel a deep pain in her vagina, surging her veins-
Wait a minute. He had a knife, not a gun. When the blood cleared, there was her dad, lying on the floor in a sea of blood, dead.
Sander's hands were shaking like Plate Tectonics, and he dropped the girl's dad's ticket to hell. His mouth showed no emotion, but his eyes did. It was... weird. He'd never seen someone die before; nevertheless, him shooting a child abuser. But a feeling overcame him, landing in his head, nesting, and laying eggs. Was it horror? No. Suspense? No. Was it... wait, when did he feel this feeling before?
His thoughts transferred him back to the 100% that stood on his computer screen. That feeling was a feeling of...
Completion? Succeession? ...Joy?
But why? These feelings seemed like the outliners of the data set, and he needed to find the median. But, all he had was the fact that he's been having a great day!
The girl stood up, trembling, shaking, her plates moving like Sander's were already.
"You... killed... my... father!" She stated, as she turned around with fire in her eyes.
"Woah, woah, woah! If my dad was cutting me up like a fucking steak would you've have done something about it?"
"Well, but, uhhhhhhhhh..." she paused for a long time as they just stood there. Police sirens started to sound, and a voice overcame.
"Everyone in Remix, step out the front door. This is the Station Square Police Department, step out of the building. FRONT DOOR!"
"Oh shit, run out the back door!" I exclaimed in a whisper.
"No, no, no! A trick. They're not even at the front door. Just casually walk out," she replied. She ran out the front door, unlike her words told her to do.
"A running girl! Get her!" screamed the police. She had fooled herself, and now the slow minutes passed as the sirens were slowly inaudible. He walked out the back door, straight to his apartment.
As he took a step, he remembered the flaming girl's eyes. What did her father call her...?
Amy, the name was. He remembered the man calling her name before that tragic incident that unfolded before the amateur DJ. Trinidad to Miami? I don't think so. No popcorn? The only certainty. What a father/daughter combo that was just displayed for the peanut gallery that converted into a criminal.
It's a dream. Or it's the pills. A day like this happens when birds drop out of the sky and fish... wait, this is the second time this has entered Sander's twisted, abused, and fucked brain of his. This had to have been a nightmare from the pills, but if there's a second season of The Sing-Off, anything has to be possible.
Windchimes roared in his head when a familiar voice entered the ears of Sander. "Back for more, bitch?" Suddenly, Sander felt a knife slice through his back, sharp, steady, and persistent. "You thought you won, huh?"
A rock, Sander dropped hard to the ground. Pain shoot through his veins, surging them, surging the arteries, and eventually reaching Sander's heart, which got a mega boost uploaded from the server.
Laughter erupted when James ran off.
Vengeance.
This was the only thing racing inside of Sander right now. Besides pain. His heartbeat started halting; James must've hit a vein. He slowly tried to get up, but he couldn't. Moving was rocket science to him, so all he could do was hope for the best or black out.
He went through alternative #2.
*****:)(:*****
Sander regained himself in a hospital. Never before had Sander felt so confused. Take a moment to lie on the ground dying, yet take another in a hospital?
What a day. More sleep, less pills, he decided, although kiss that one goodbye.
The sanatorium he was in was approximately cheerless. It was a plain white little room in a plain white little hall. The life support he was on looked like a spider web made by some development delayed teenage art student. Unorganized, uncared for, and all for the profits.
Sander decided to acquire a stroll. He unhooked himself and stepped outside the room. No time for peeking at the artwork.
Immediately, almost as if on cue, doctors raced after him, yelling for him to get back in the room.
Sander wasn't gonna take this. He waited until they were just about to grab him before he jumped, put his foot on the wall in mid air, and pushed off. He immediately ran off towards the exit; he'd been in the local hospital before, when he was just a small baby, and when his mother died.
His mother.
The faint memories were inexistent, as if she was never there. But she was, and if that divorce just would've ensued, her mother would still be alive. But maybe that was the reason due to the insane homicide his father committed.
His father.
Also, faint memories. The suicide was all he could remember.
Don't I say goodbye, Sander sarcastically reflected.
No time to waist, he had to get to that elevator, and fast.
No voices, no doctors, no signs of being beat. He had won this one.
When he reached the elevator was already open, so he hoped in.
"Hey, ma'am, you heading down to the lobby?" he interrogated the young hedgehog.
She took one glance at Sander. As soon as she did, she ran out the elevator, like she was petrified or something.
"Hey, ma'am, come back! What's the matter?"
She headed towards the stairs, and he could beat her down.
The doors closed. He hit the (*L) on the elevator. The numbers sequenced down into nothing, as if tranced.
2...
1...
L.
The doors opened. And 2 doctors stood right in front of him.
He figured this would happen. He walked right up to the doctors and bashed their
heads together into one. He then jumped over the doctors and ran for the door, pushed it open, and bolted towards Station Square, because he knew it was only a 10 minute run from the hospital to Station Square.
"Let's make this a little more interesting," came a female voice from out of the atmosphere.
A whistle was audible from Sander's left ear. He looked over and saw a dart has just been shot at him.
Keep moving Sander. You got a while to go.
The second dart shot struck him right in the neck.
"!" vocalized the same female voice.
Sander fell and, again, was unconscious.
The second fucking time this has happened. We're on a fucking streak, now aren't we?
And it's always the last words that show the most emotion.
*****:)(:*****
It was a little more time until Sander woke up this time, expecting to be in a prison. But this was more than a prison.
Around Sander was some weird landscape that consisted of a flat floor that really wasn't. Around Sander was a tube of purple, black, and red swirls, spikes, and swishes consisting of many psychedelic feeling. And the weird atmosphere seemed as if it was moving. Was this...?
Sander saw a pink hedgehog sitting behind tons of buttons and screens and floating code and all other sorts of crap.
"Well, guess I have to tell you now."
"Tell me what? TELL ME!" demanded Sander.
"Sander, you've just been lifted."
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Corny cliffhanger, I know. That breaks the laws. That chapter was the most graphic, violent chapter I've ever written in fanfiction history, but it's my first break from humor.
I guess I was writing to much humor.
If you would like to collaborate with TranceKing123:
Send me a personal message with a small reason why you would like to collab and an idea you have we could expand on. I tried to make this as simple as I could so the collab could get out as soon as possible. Also, you can choose whether the fic should be posted on your account or mine. I really don't care.