A/N
So, at this point I have little hope for the upcoming Sonic the Hedgehog film. Everything, from its choice to use live-action, to its premise, to its choice of director and production company...I'm open to be pleasantly surprised, but, well, yeah. But that said, did give me the excuse to drabble this up based on what we know of said plot. Of course, Chris isn't going to be in the film, but hey, creative licence and all that.
Boys in Blue
Christopher Thorndyke had seen some weird shit while on the force.
It came with the territory. As a police officer, 90% of the time you'd be dealing with domestic disturbances of some kind, including those at establishments. Rowdy customers, deadbeat husbands, juvenile delinquents, etc. 5% of the time, your life might be in actual danger. The crazies of the world who decided that waving a gun around (or God forbid, using it), was a constructive use of one's time. And as for the remaining 5%? That came under the classification of "weird shit." Stuff ranging from drug use, to people threatening to jump off buildings because the end of the world was coming, or people threatening to blow up buildings because the end had already come, and only they could save this great country. Every police officer had seen some quote-unquote "weird shit," and it was the kind of stuff that was passed around at the precincts. Arresting John Doe for beating up Jane Doe, or Jane Doe for running a red light, wasn't really in the realm of interest.
And yet this…this was in the realm of 105%. That didn't make mathematical sense, and he suspected that he might need to re-examine how he dealt with how he classified his job. Because he suspected that no-one in this precinct, or any other in this country (heck, any country, period), had seen a blue anthropomorphic hedgehog wearing red sneakers and white gloves, lying on a cell bench eating a chilli dog.
How'd you get that anyway?
"It's cold," the hedgehog said, looking at Chris through the bars, waving the last quarter of the chilli dog in front of him. "Call this service?"
No, seriously, how did you get that?
"Hey, tall, blue, and not so ugly, I'm complaining about the room service."
Chris still didn't answer. This wasn't a job for the police he thought. This was a job for a vet. Or heck, scientists. The whole "turns out humans aren't the only sapient creatures in existence, so…yay?" crowd.
"Ah, fine, whatever." The hedgehog finished the last quarter, licking the chilli off his gloves. "I'll be out of her soon enough anyway."
"I really don't think you will," Chris murmured.
"Nah, I will." The hedgehog swung over on the seat and looked Chris in the eye. "I could use a spin-dash and knock these bars down here and now, and be outside the limits of this town in less than a minute."
"Then why haven't you done that already?"
The hedgehog shrugged. "Need an audience. You ain't it."
"Sorry to disappoint you."
"Yeah, well, sure you're doing your best Officer…" He squinted. "Thornbike?"
"Thorndyke."
"Thorndyke." The hedgehog frowned, putting a hand under his chin. "Odd. Think I heard that name somewhere before."
"I really doubt it."
"Yeah. You're probably right."
Far as Chris was concerned, there was no "probably" about it. He'd seen some weird stuff from his family over the years, whether it be Chuck's inventions, his mother's more…esoteric movies, or his father's products (still proving to the world that people would buy anything). Come the age of 18, he'd enlisted in the Station Square Police Department to prove that yes, he could stand on his own two feet, and yes, he could take care of himself, so stop asking. Come the age of 21, he'd been stationed in Bumpkinville (a.k.a. Peterston), because SSPD apparently didn't want its police officers doing that much actual policing. Or at least not the kind of policing that had made a difference. Course, being stationed out here removed any accusations of nepotism, and did allow him to see this thing. This blue hedgehog that had come blazing down the highway, exceeding the speed limit by a few hundred miles per hour, screeching into town and making skid marks to make even the most hardened bikie blush, and only then be apprehended by a dozen officers, himself included. In other words, half the town's police force.
So, no, he hadn't seen blue, super-sonic hedgehogs before. Certainly not the kind who talked perfect English, and used the gift of speech to make his life miserable.
"Say…" the hedgehog said suddenly. "Why you?"
Chris blinked. "Pardon?"
"Why you?" the hedgehog repeated. "You were one of two-dozen-"
Only a dozen you liar.
"…cops who got the jump on me, but you're the only one here." The hedgehog sprung off his seat and walked over to the bars. "Why you?"
"Someone's got to watch over you."
"Yeah, but why you?" the hedgehog repeated. "I mean, sure, some guys in black with black sunglasses might arrive here a few hours from now, and they might have wanted you guys to not be involved and all that, but why you? Why do you get guard duty?"
"I dunno, why do you care?"
"Well, you're a rookie, and I've got experience in training rookies." The hedgehog looked to the side of the cell, as if lost in thought. "Good times."
"And what did those times involve exactly?" Chris tried to hide that he actually was curious, and given the way the hedgehog looked back at him, it was a bluff that had apparently worked.
"Oh, the usual. Foxes, echidnas, robots…I'm talking proper robots, not those overdesigned monstrosities that I saw on that billboard outside town."
"…Transformers?"
"And there's a guy like you," the hedgehog said, not listening. "I mean, not exactly like you – you're a bit less fat, and a lot less mega…megalo…megala…"
"Megalomaniacal?"
"Yeah, that," the hedgehog said. "Like, there's this guy. Eggman, Robotnik, whatever. He's in my world. Same species as you. I think."
"You think?"
"Well, he's got the whole 'no hair but facial' hair thing, and the whole clothes thing, and the whole penchant for locking me up, so, yeah. Like you." He shrugged. "On the other hand, he's got far better taste in robots."
"You realize that billboard is for a-"
"And here I am," the hedgehog said. "I mean, could tell you more, but I need sequel hooks." He folded his arms. "Any questions?"
Chris had a few. Or a dozen. Or any number of questions to the power of infinity (except zero – yes, his maths wasn't that bad). Still, he held off. He had the feeling that people higher than him would be coming to the precinct, that they'd be the ones asking the questions, and that the hedgehog might not be blustering after all. Because anything that had moved as fast as he did…well, bursting out of a cell through a "spin dash" might not be that farfetched.
"No?" the hedgehog asked. "No questions? Well, that's fine. I can-"
"What's your name?"
It wasn't the first question on his list, but it was the first one that came out of his mouth. He saw the hedgehog raise his eye lid (not an eyebrow, he didn't seem to have actual eyebrows). "My name?" he asked.
"Your name."
"Why?" The hedgehog began tapping his foot, like something out of a cartoon.
"Well, I told you my name, it's only fair I know yours."
"You didn't tell me your name, I read your name."
"Misread, my name," Chris said. "And fine. My name's Chris Thorndyke. Chris Nelson Thorndyke to be exact, but I prefer not to use that."
The hedgehog opened his mouth, but held himself back. Instead, slowly, he said, "well, name's Sonic. Sonic the Hedgehog."
"Sonic the Hedgehog?"
"Yeah. I don't know what kind of naming system you use in this place, but all I need is a name, a species, and a 'the.'"
"So…Sonic the Hedgehog? No Sonic Hedgehog?"
"No, not Sonic Hedgehog, that would be completely ridiculous."
Chris didn't know why, but he didn't ask either. Instead, he asked, "so, like, how fast can you go?"
The hedgehog smirked. "Who's asking?"
"Well, me, for one person. We clocked you at three-hundred and ten miles per hour."
"Trust me kid, I can go a lot faster than that."
Given the way the hedgehog smiled, Chris found himself not doubting that. Instead, he reflected that if the hedgehog's name really was "Sonic," then based on what he'd seen…well, however names worked for trash-talking smart arses from other dimensions/worlds/whatever, whoever had named the hedgehog before him had done so correctly.
"Heck, if you're really lucky, you might even see me when I break out."
"Yeah, about that…" Chris said. "I mean, if you can go that fast, and do spend your time fighting robots and whatnot…"
"Yeah?"
"Well, is tearing up roads and running from men in black really the best use of your time?"
The hedgehog stared at him, as if Chris had said something absolutely absurd. And heck, maybe in the hedgehog's mind, maybe he had. So, before the hedgehog could speak, he pressed on. "I mean, we're both boys in blue-"
"Navy and black in your case."
"…okay, navy, "Chris said. "And given how fast you move…well, I'm just wondering…"
"What, that I be like you?" the hedgehog asked. "Serve the people and get a uniform and all that?"
"Don't think you need a uniform, but-"
"Listen kid." The hedgehog walked up to the bars, grabbed them, and pressed his face against them. "I did plenty of that stuff back home. Before I got here, and found myself not in the most welcoming of company. So unless you've got something that can top a floating island, a robot double, or a pocket dimension that consists of a half-pipe, I'll pass."
Chris didn't say anything. He didn't have any of that stuff. Far as he knew, no-one did.
He watched the hedgehog turn around and lie on the cell bench. Completely at ease being caged. An ease that by no means mirrored Chris's own…because he had none.
"So where's my second chilli dog?" the hedgehog asked.
"What? You didn't ask for one?"
"Asking now." The hedgehog shooed him away. "Come on. Move it."
Chris didn't want to, but his legs carried him away anyway.
Seriously, how did you get that chilli dog?!
His mind was too far gone to do anything else.