Sonic the Hedgehog opens his eyes. Fading in and out of consciousness and with blurred vision, he is unsure of the reality being presented to him.
Where is he?
He is lying on the cold, ceramic tiled floor of the bathroom in his apartment. He drags his heavy body to the sink counter, pulling himself up brusquely.
"Ugh, I feel like shit." He says aloud, clutching his forehead. He is running a high fever and sweating like he had never before, and it is pouring down the sides of his face and into the sink.
Suddenly, without warning, he begins to retch uncontrollably.
"Oh no, I'm gonna…" Before he can even complete the thought, though, it happens.
He starts to vomit. The noxious bodily fluids torrent out of his mouth like a hose under pressure suddenly turned on. Before long, chunks of what he had for breakfast are now filling the sink to the brim. The surge stops for a moment, and he gasps to recollect his breath.
"Oh my God, what's happening to me…?" He manages to blurt out. He looks into the mirror over the sink and at his reflection – just yesterday, he looked perfectly healthy. But now, his skin had a sickly, pallid tone and traces of vomit were visibly lining his lips.
I have to call somebody, 9-11 or…
Coincidentally, his cell phone starts ringing.
However, checking his pockets, he realizes that it is not on his person, but the sound seemed to be coming from the adjacent bedroom.
Holding back another wave of vomit, Sonic steadily makes his way to the ringing phone.
Whoever it was, they could help him. They had to.
Oh my God, my head… He collapses unto his knees, the crippling power of his headache. So, he is reduced to crawling, the rest of the way to his bedside dresser, where the ringing is heard at its loudest.
Clutching his head with one hand, he uses the other to shuffle through the miscellaneous items that line his dresser. A pack of cigarettes, a bobble-head of himself and an open pack of double mint gum are thrown onto the floor in the process. A photograph of him, Tails and Knuckles standing together and smiling hits the floor and shatters with a loud CRACK. It is when he sends his alarm clock flying with a swing of his arm that he finally locates the phone, and answers it.
There is no time for a casual exchange of hellos.
"Help! I can't stop vomiting! Get an ambulance, I can't —" Sonics shouts into the phone, only to be cut off by the continued flow of vomit. He barely manages to move the phone away from his mouth in time.
Tails happens to be on the other end, and he responds, just loud enough for Sonic to hear with the phone away from his ear, "Uhh, Sonic, what the hell? I'll call 9-11! Hold on man, I'll be right there too."
Sonic nods pathetically, unable to vocalize a response. He throws the phone away and drops to the floor.
My head feels like it's going to explode…
He rolls in his own puke screaming in pain, and crying in it. He felt hopeless, like he was going to die, as the nightmare continued, seemingly without end.
I can't give up, though. Not here, not now...
He was like a sponge that had been left to soak in a tub full of vomit, getting up. As he walked, he would leave a trail of vomit on the floor behind him wherever he went.
Sonic was in a delirious state of mind, and this affected his sense of direction. Lumbering about his bedroom, he bumps into his bed, crashes into his wardrobe, then finally trips and rolls into his closet. He pukes some more in there; decorating the walls and the clothes around him in a cascade of green filth.
"You don't look so well, Sonic."
Sonic whips his head around to see a person standing there and with that one look, he knew he was not going to survive long enough for the ambulance to arrive.
…
His name is Sonic the hedgehog and he is fated to be the first victim of the Dysentery outbreak in Mobius.