Thank you to ABSOselfRBED for notifying me that the format of this first chapter was so screwed up! Ahh! That's what you get for trying to upload a pages document without thinking!
We first met after the accident. I had successfully fulfilled Drago's orders and cut the Princess of Acorn down to a four-story drop. In my mind, I was convinced I had killed Snively, but to explain that misunderstanding would take a whole class of drugs.
Sally hit the ground. EMS was already there, scooping up her little body like a frozen songbird from the sidewalk. While the crowd below stood gaping in horror, I slipped in through the window and began making my escape. I made it down three stories. On the fourth, the only exit was blocked by a large man. He said nothing. His thick gloved hand shot out at me and we grappled for several minutes. I threw my head into his, blood streaming from his nose, and he backhanded me across the face. My mask came flying off. Sonic's face on the floor, two strangers staring into each other eyes, neither set green.
Soon Drago would arrive. The job was officially botched. I tried to take out my assailant with a roundhouse kick, but he grabbed my leg and held it aloft. At this awkward angle, all I could try to do was yank my leg back and scratch him. I scratched his arm badly twice before he took hold of my neck. That's it, I thought, I'm dead.
I woke up somewhere in the castle, held bridal-style in this guy's arms. My neck ached. Over our heads were candlelight chandeliers like you'd only find in a room the king inhabits, with dozens of candles in a spiraling pattern, lit painstakingly by some poor soul and then hoisted twenty feet above ground and ten feet from the ceiling. My assailant's voice surprised me. I had expected a burlier voice. It was hardly baritone, and he spoke well, like someone who'd had more of an education than most of the war babies in our generation.
If I moved too much, I would probably not have been privy to the conversation anymore, so I held still. The other voice sounded elderly but firm, and it called my assailant "St. John" with great authority. The king demanded that I stand trial and be punished for my attempt on his daughter's life. Then this St. John spoke up again, a heavy mantle of respect greatly changing the posture with which he propositioned the king. My ears perked up. I was waiting for him to say something an evil crony would say. I was waiting for him to say, Let me kill her, Master! or otherwise ask for permissions to keep me as some kind of sexual object. Then I realized that, to all of those people in the crowd, I was the evil crony. I wasn't sure if either of these two would advocate for me.
This St. John guy spoke softly. Please, Sire, he said, with a voice that I could drink like sweetened tea. She has so many talents, he said. Talents that could serve you well.
I prayed in my head that he wasn't offering me up as some kind of concubine. The king was very angry at first, and raged for a short time. Then he began to reconsider. He asked about my talents. He asked about why I should bypass my right to a trial for a crime dozens of people watched me commit. My assailant bowed his head with a chuckle, which of course forced him to bow his torso a little, and moved me in turn. He told His Majesty with All due respect, that no one had seen me commit any crime. They had seen Sonic commit a crime. They could easily try Sonic and acquit him, and this whole mess would be behind them.
My heart started racing. I didn't actually know this Sonic guy. I didn't really intend to get him mixed up in a bad rap. My assailant went on to say that I had all the skills the Secret Service- whatever the hell that was- could dream of. I could disguise myself well. I never spoke during combat. I neither denied nor flaunted my femininity, which could be a strength or a weakness in special ops. I scaled a building- his words, not mine- as if I were merely walking on a slight incline. And when I had finished my task, neatly and with great speed, I slipped away like shadows at noon, and made my escape.
This guy spoke very flatteringly of me for someone who may have broken his nose. I was suspicious to say the least. It seems the king was too, which might have explained the long pause that followed. Alright, the king sighed, I will give you one chance. Whip this girl into shape, make her a soldier, and we will make like none of this ever happened.
My assailant bowed again and thanked him. He began backing away from the throne when the king piped up one last time. St. John. He froze. The king's voice had an eeriness about it in those two singsong syllables. Fail me, the king breathed softly, and this one is on you.