Liberate Her
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***a story by Liessa***
The phone was ringing, as it typically happens whenever the writer wants something dramatic to happen without spending much thought on how.
Morning lights passed through the window sill and cast geometrical shadows on the bedroom wall. A young woman -or rather, a female hedgehog- shifted annoyedly under the sheets for a while, then fumbled to her side, in reluctant search of the receiver.
"Yeah?"
"Where have you been? I've been trying to contact you for, like, half an hour!"
Head heavy, mind somnambulant. She wearily tried to recollect scattered thoughts. The position of the sun, now a lingering disk of fire that loomed behind hordes of gloomy skyscrapers, discreetly informed her that it was still ridiculously early.
"Hey. Goodmorning to you too."
"I am sorry, Ames"-the voice, which synapses she couldn't control and had previously been unaware of vaguely recognized as Sonic, was tense with hints of urgency. "But it's something of an emergency."
The word "emergency" floated aimlessly in her mind for a second, then connected with several unpleasant nodes and she was soon standing upright, receiver still glued to her cheek. "What kind of emergency?"
Numerous buzzing sounds could be heard, then a prolonged pause before the line was restored again. "Yeah, emergency...listen, Tails and I are already outside the train station, Shadow and Rouge were alerted by the GUN, and Knux is probably on his way here...Eggman broadcasted a message some minutes past midnight."
A cascade of details followed, but Amy was hardly paying attention, barely wired to the world of the awake. Ears would discern a word that somehow clicked here and there, but she was busy trying to get dressed with her only available hand, skipping funnily in an uttempt to enter the tossed pieces of clothing. Eggman. But of course. Things had been relatively quiet for some time now, period during which Sonic had disappeared from her life, as he'd casually do when she was not needed.
"Wait, wait, I am losing you. You said something about a TV broadcast? Why on Earth would Robotnik publicly offer a warning? Since when does he inform the public -us!- he is going to attack?"
"Beats me! Tails said Egghead tuned in to every device in the entire city. He didn't manage to trace the signal, though. There was a lot of Chaos Energy around that gave his equipment a lot of buzz or something like that."
The response didn't seem to satisfy her.
"Chaos Energy, how? Wait. What does the GUN have to say?"
"Well, I guess that since the whole wingding went public, there's lives at stake so their hands are kinda tied."
Amy considered that briefly, while insisting -against all reason- on trying to force her right foot into a left boot. A horrendous predicament soared underneath her ribcage, electrified every acre of flesh on her; the kind of monstrous, inexplicable hunch that fills the mouth with the metallic taste of blood. She froze, looked at the mismatched shoes, then at the wall, then back at the shoes.
"Sonic... What if- what if it's a trap?" Amy bit her lip. In spite of having outgrown the obsessive stalker status, the preposterous pursuit of marriage, the blackmailing and the dates Sonic never appeared in time for, she still worried a lot about him. The mere idea of something going amiss triggered instant panic. The voice from the other side, however, sounded carefree and unabashed. He laughed, and it was beautiful as much as poignant.
"Well, we don't really have a choice, do we? Whatever it is, Ames, it is bad. Traps are just one of the many risks people like you and me have to face."
It had been a dark and stormy night; stormy because it's always that way whenever something sinister is going on, and dark because it's always dark at night. The atmosphere had been thoroughly cleansed, introducing the city to a rather chilly day. By the time she arrived at the small square outside the train station, everything was bathed in the unforgiving sunlight of cloudless skies.
The others were already there. All sported preoccupied facial expressions, with the obvious exception of Sonic who, as always, wouldn't betray even the slightest sign of anxiety. Amy, who had grown up to be cynical and, in the face of all previous indications, considerably prissy, bleakly thought that, even amidst a hypothetical zombie apocalypse, the blue speedster would probably be the lunatic honoring every passing soul with his trademark smirking thumbs-up.
The rest of Station Square looked discouragingly deserted. But of course. Since the upcoming attack had been publicly announced by none other than the very would-be culprit thereof, who in their right minds would risk being outside? The madman's roboticized troops would start spreading havoc any time now.
"Hey guys. Good morning." Apart from the obvious ironic overtones there was also a sort of pending questionmark. She scanned the faces, trying to convince herself that nothing was more amiss than usual with regards to their unexpected "mission". Sonic, failing yet another shot at achieving an innovation, grinned. Shadow and Rouge simply nodded. Tails comprised quite the comical, if a little disconcerting, spectacle, leaning against the Tornado, glaringly short of several hours of sleep.
"Hey, Amy."
She crossed her arms, felt stupid, and let them fall again.
"So. Anyone care to tell me, what is it that we are dealing with?"
"None of us knows exactly", muttered the child prodigy, teeth clenched. She couldn't help but wonder whether the young fox had been making enhancements on the Tornado overnight, paralyzed by the same, rancid gut feeling gnawing on her brains. "All he said is that he was going to attack. Early in the morning. And then he publicly challenged us to stop him."
Lips had by now merged into a single, thin line of worry. The frown on her face looked engraved. There was something that refused to click, and no matter how hard Amy tried, every explanation she could come up with was proved more or less unsatisfactory.
"That's a novelty. For Eggman, I mean. Seems like he's got something in store...for us."
She exchanged glances with Rouge, who gestured in wordless approval. Their sober expressions seemed to be mirroring one another. The bat absent-mindedly stretched her arms in front of her, and gave a sideways look to Shadow, her long-time partner at the GUN.
"Yeah, we were sorta discussing this on our way here. The signal our headquarters reported was emitted from somewhere behind the mountains"-she vaguely pointed towards a timid mountain range protruding meekly behind the tall buildings.
"And...?"
"Well. There's a lot of mines over there. The rocks are rich in low-quality garnet that is popular among local jewellers. But recently, some people were trying to sell what they described as 'mysterious stones with unusual powers'."
"Chaos Emeralds."
"Could be. Our radars did detect a source of Chaos Energy, after all. But the signal was so strong, I don't know. It blew our minds, I tell ya."
"So, theoretically, Eggman could be harnessing some new type of Chaos Energy?"
"Even if he does, hun, it's a type we're unaware of, and possibly-"
The sentence was left hanging in mid-air. As though it had always been there, an obtrusive troop of blimps, ridden with heavy machinery, soared above the unkempt conglomerate of tasteless urban architecture. Brand new lasers and rocket launchers protruded sideways, flamboyant red paint shimmering unpleasantly under clean skies. The whole fleet, riddled with more equipment aesthetics or plain gravity would normally deem plausible, gave the impression of a recreational display, rather than an actual threat.
In what shall be described -for the lack of a better term- as cinematic silence, a tiny compartment was detatched from the outrageous bunch and started hovering downward; its speed was dramatic, which is a nice way to imply that it moved slightly faster than a limp slug, and yet slowly enough to build the kind of suspense that sends any man gnawing at their knuckles until they've reached the wrists. Lower and lower it slithered, and it gradually became clear that it was, in fact, huge. The scientist could be seen, boasting a deranged grin that showed off teeth, gums and clinical insanity in equal measure. He was briskly pulling levers behind a retractable piece of glass. At one point, a metallic plate receded to reveal something that, with some unhealthy imagination, would be reminiscent of a cannon.
"Good morning, my deplorable enemies!", he bellowed, because it is typical of super-villains to throw uncomfortably cheesy one-liners into the script and ruin the atmosphere. Still, there was inherent cruelty in that voice, and just enough self-confidence to set the little alarms in Amy's head afire. For better or worse, and to her bemusement, not everyone shared the feeling. Sonic put on a smug smirk. And spoke.
"Hey, Doc! I thought you'd never show up for our rendez-vous!"
"I am not here to engage in affable conversation, you spiky rodent. I am here to show you my latest creation!"
"Well, too bad we are here to destroy it."
Tails' heightening panic was beginning to manifest itself. He gently nudged at his best friend's rib. "You know, Sonic, I doubt it's a great idea to-"
The phrase died midway out of his mouth, muffled by a hair-triggering noise; a shrill, deafening roar that vibrated at an improbable pitch. A mysterious beam materialized, missed their heads by mere centimetres and heartlessly turned the newly renovated station cafe into a cloud of dust.
Chaos ensued.
She had already regretted exiting her house and taking part in that suicidal expedition. It was her city, however, and people she walked past and talked to every day, at stake. Besides, even being there, seeing him fight, admiring his prowess, supporting their ideals in every possible way, was strangely uplifting. Amy secretly -almost illogically- believed that somehow, every hit she took was yet another blow that had missed the man she loved. She wasn't wary of being, in fact, a heroine in her own right; she had just consciously chosen to be his shield.
Unbeknownst to her, equally unspoken and illogical was Sonic's own decision to be hers.
Things had escalated quickly. There was debris and explosions everywhere. Pulverized remains and flakes of cinder hid the surroundings under a blanket of impromptu smog. Devoid of sight, they lost track of one another; Amy could hear herself scream, dashing from cover to cover as missiles whistled by and smashed against every available surface. Destroyed highways, derelict shops. The occasional familiar sound would distract her; Rouge calling Knuckles' name repeatedly, from somewhere afar; the distinctive roar of the Tornado hovering above; the aftermath of a Chaos Blast.
At one point, something collided against her head. Sharp, heavy-probably a shard of something bigger, a piece of machinery, a robot. The world instantly melted into a blurry assemblage of shape and color. Scarlet mucus further hampered her vision. She attempted to fling her hammer at a bypassing enemy, hitting its head which subsequently gave in, rolled over man-made shoulders and right into a puddle of mud.
Enter a sequence of Oscar-worthy special effects: the main body of the Doctor's repugnant creation came into view. To both the reader and the writer's relief, it was so mind-bogglingly overloaded it defied description. To Amy's growing horror, the Thing grew a pair of metallic clutches that sidled forward in an attempt to snatch her. She dodged it with a swift jump- it had been years since the hedgehog's last kidnapping, and she intented to keep the record running.
Then, a deafening sound, a sudden uproar climaxing to a grandiose crescendo. She lost her balance and landed on layers of dirt and shattered glass. Chunks of hot metal flew by like shooting stars. Amy screamed once more- out of sheer outrage rather than something else- then buried her trusty weapon in yet another head with maniacal precision. The universe held its breath momentarily before the Thing collapsed under its own weight.
There was a throaty, heart-wretching exclamation. There was a brief coloratura, like the sound of trash cans tumbling down a staircase. There was unsettling, viscous silence.
Lazily, the smoke went down. A deplorable new version of the city progressively came into view.
Coughing, panting heavily, the young woman looked around in bafflement. Eyes roamed the surroundings for any trace of the others. It was easy to tell Eggman had been defeated -or rather, had retreated for the time being- but the ugly gut feeling she'd woken up with persisted. As soon as her senses returned to being functional, it became clear what it had been about.
She blinked twice, in order to remove the remnants of blood that aggravated her sight. Fuzzy shapes swirled, then a blue dot in the distance began to analyze itself, assuming details, and eventually, a name. Everything became hazy; upon realizing who it was Amy froze, knees wobbly, breath nonexistent. She'd later recall trying to stand up, falling to her knees, then crawling across the mud like a madwoman.
She approached him while screaming for help. It was virtually impossible to face, much less estimate, the full extent of what had transpired. Sonic had presumably failed to dodge one of the countless blasts aimed at him, consequently taking a severe hit in the lower spine. A tiny crater had been formed on the ground surrounding the frail figure, embers still smoldering near. Bits of torn fur revealed patches of scortched flesh upon his back. Amy turned him over with shaking hands. Jade eyes delved into frightened emerald ones; this time he was scared, but typically tried to conceal the fact behind a forced half-smile. "Hey."
He was barely conscious. Her fist closed around his wrist. Weak, she thought. His pulse is weak. She caressed the bloodied face, tried to suppress inevitable tears for his sake. Thoughts raced; part of her mind was shut down, numb with the stomach-twisting prospect of loss; another doggedly, tirelessly processed scattered bits of information, making mental connections. Was I supposed to turn him over like that? He's probably in a great deal of pain and I can't carry him without assistance. My panic is so not helping right now. What do I do? What do I say? God, we are all alone. Where are the others?
If I lose you how long will it take me to learn how to live?
As if reciting some silly poem, cascades of tears dripping from her muzzle, she cried out every name that crossed her mind. Tails. Knuckles. Shadow. Rouge. Someone. Please.
My love is dying and I can do nothing about it.
But Amy had promised herself she'd be brave for him, so a reassuring smile trembled on the edges of her lips, and she stroked the dirt off that beautiful face. He looked up once more, smiled back. Adorable and childish, but somehow as charming as a man could possibly be.
"We...we made it again... didn't we?"
Pain bled through the voice, facial expression contorted midway between a smirk and a mask of pure agony. The carefree facade was not going to work this time.
"Nope", she almost made it sound like a reprimand, voice coarse, hardly audible. "You did it. You defeated him. Like you always do."
He chuckled. "Nah. We...we all defeated him, cause we are a team, remember?"
"Yes, we are-", she swallowed, regained composure. "A team."
Sonic exhaled heavily. "Quite a ride, eh?"
She tried to agree verbally, but every attempt was muffled by heavy sobs. Shoulders convulsing, face buried in dirty palms, she snuggled close to him. We always assume that premature death only happens to people we don't know, she thought. We keep wanting things we can't have and miss the important bits. Look at what I have done. All you'd ever wanted was to be free.
So many words had been left lingering. So many things undone. So many apologies unsaid.
You are the most important person in my life, always have been, will always be. Should I lose you now, everything will seem meaningless. I know you've never looked at me that way, but I look at you and see my second half. I feel useless for being unable to help you. And most importantly, I am so sorry for not understanding and respecting that you just wanted to run, that the life I had pictured wasn't cut out for you. I love you, and I was so selfish.
Half-intoxicated by the adrenaling fueling her senses, Amy could barely tell reality from contemplation apart. There was this jumbled mess of thoughts, a feminine voice muttering nonsense at a supernatural speed, a man crying. But then clarity kicked in, and it was just the two of them, man and woman, Amy actually having said all of that stuff and Sonic, whose eyes suddenly betrayed unfathomable grief.
"Nope, Ames... I... am... sorry."
There was something within the stare they engaged that felt out of place, as though it was a special kind of stare they'd been saving for a different occasion.
"Sorry for what?"
The pause contained traces of doubt.
"Because...I.. have been... an ass. Because I kept telling myself... I had time. Because...because..."
He coughed out some blood, tried to keep on talking but ended up howling in pain instead. More coughing. More blood. He grabbed her by the shoulders in unpreceeded desperation, clutched on flesh so tightly it hurt.
"Sonic..it will be okay, I promise." she lied, partly because she despised seeing him go through something so cruel, but mostly for the lack of a decent answer. She knew it wasn't okay. It was the exact opposite of okay. Nothing would be okay ever again; he was continuously aggravating, and the frantic gesturing was only making things worse. Sonic was mumbling something unintelligible, repeating the same phrase over and over, like a mantra.
"I can't hear you, Sonikku."
"...I... o... u..."
This moment would, indeed, change her life, but not in a way that could have been predicted. Eyes upon eyes, bathed in dirt and blood, paralyzed, petrified, the girl watched in unsurmountable horror as, incapable of voicing the words, Sonic decided to demonstrate them instead. He weakly raised an arm, cupped her face -good god, did he cup her face- ever so gently...
...As for Amy, she could only wish she'd somehow died before any of that mess had transpired; before the treacherous fight; before having to witness the man she loved suffer and approach what looked like an unjust death.
But most of all, because, when he pulled her head towards his with what had remained of his strength and claimed her lips in a deep, sorrowful kiss, it tasted like everything she had ever wanted, but couldn't have.
A.N.: This is ruthlessly random, but gee am I having fun writing it. I know I mixed humorous with sad scenes, which can be considered highly anticlimatic on both ends, but whenever I tried to change something the story just died. So sorry, not sorry. Hope you like.
