Long time no see, eh? God, has it really been 2 years since I've updated? I apologize. Lots have happened. I've moved to a new place, made new friends. Been diagnosed with all sorts of disorders, and there's been a death in the family. Yeah, it's been a hell of a two years, lol. Everyone says it will be good for me if I start writing again, and I thought that right now, this is the story I could most easily pick up on again. So enough about me, let's get to it:

Disclaimer: Think I own Sonic? You're funny.


Wicked Games

Chapter One: Impressions

Keep you in the dark
You know they all pretend
Keep you in the dark
And so it all began...

Send in your skeletons
Sing as their bones go marching in... again
The need you buried deep
The secrets that you keep are ever ready
Are you ready?
I'm finished making sense
Done pleading ignorance
That whole defense

Spinning infinity, boy
The wheel is spinning me
It's never-ending, never-ending
Same old story

What if I say I'm not like the others?
What if I say I'm not just another one of your plays?
You're the pretender
What if I say that I'll never surrender?

What if I say I'm not like the others?
What if I say I'm not just another one of your plays?
You're the pretender
What if I say that I'll never surrender?

In time or so I'm told
I'm just another soul for sale... oh, well
The page is out of print
We are not permanent
We're temporary, temporary
Same old story

What if I say I'm not like the others?
What if I say I'm not just another one of your plays?
You're the pretender
What if I say that I'll never surrender?

What if I say I'm not like the others?
What if I say I'm not just another one of your plays?
You're the pretender
What if I say that I'll never surrender?

I'm the voice inside your head
You refuse to hear
I'm the face that you have to face
Mirrored in your stare
I'm what's left, I'm what's right
I'm the enemy
I'm the hand that will take you down
Bring you to your knees

So who are you?
Yeah, who are you?
Yeah, who are you?
Yeah, who are you?

Keep you in the dark
You know they all pretend

What if I say I'm not like the others?
What if I say I'm not just another one of your plays?
You're the pretender
What if I say that I'll never surrender?

What if I say I'm not like the others?
What if I say I'm not just another one of your plays?
You're the pretender
What if I say that I'll never surrender?

What if I say I'm not like the others?
(Keep you in the dark)
What if I say I'm not just another one of your plays?
(You know they all... pretend)
You're the pretender
What if I say that I'll never surrender?

What if I say I'm not like the others?
(Keep you in the dark)
What if I say I'm not just another one of your plays?
(You know they all... pretend)
You're the pretender
What if I say that I'll never surrender?

So who are you?
Yeah, who are you?
Yeah, who are you?

-The Pretender

Foo Fighters


It was a while before the car reached its deadly destination. Vector, much to his self-loathing, sat silently the rest of the ride, defeated. What else could he do? Another word and he might become the murder's new best friend. When they finally lurched violently to a stop, he could see his captor smiling at his horror. There it was. Alcaz Prison. Lovingly nicknamed "little corner of hell."

"Home sweet home, eh toots?" The cop howled with laughter, virtually flinging the crocodile out of the vehicle. The building seemed to cackle with him, its entrance baring resemblance to a toothless, grinning monster. Through the icy foreboding fog, Vector couldn't help but stare at the compound that radiated despair and death. And yet, the prison still sat smirking. It was unreal.

With a sharp push from the officer, they began to make their journey into the belly of the beast. The outside of the building was only a mild precursor to the wretchedness that lay within. Inside, it was endless dark. Lights were few and far between; their glow revealed the rotting debris that floated invisible through the air, dancing sadistically in the light. The corpses of moths and flies unfortunate enough to get trapped in the place were now decorations lining the floor. The smell was of damp mold and urine. Already, Vector was disturbed.

"Where the hell do you guys get off keeping a shit hole like this?" Vector growled viciously to his subjugator. A pair of ragged arms stretched out to him through slime-covered cell bars, as if he were their savior. He made sure to avoid contact, but shook his head pityingly. The cop laughed as he beat the arms back with his nightstick.

"Getting scared, princess? Good," he grunted as he forced Vector to come to a halt. They were at the very end of the prison now. There were no windows. It was just as well, because no light would ever shine here. "This is where we send the ultimate scum, the lowest of the low… Like her." A pudgy finger pointed to the dankest cell of all, huddled in a corner. The bars keeping its prisoner in were not of corroded steel like the others, but of red lasers that hummed with deadly power. The light from the beams were the only sources of illumination in the hall, bathing everything in an eerie blood-hued glow. Vector could barely make out the sullen outline of a person inside the lockup.

And suddenly, the crocodile was stripped of his jacket and sent flying through the air. His body met the muck-covered cement with a muffled crack. The surrounding guards snickered with sick enjoyment as his favorite patrolman slammed the cell shut. He smirked a stupid smirk.

"Sleep tight, cupcake." He said, and strode away with Vector's precious jacket slung over his fat shoulder. The reptile shouted a few choice words at him before flopping himself down in frustration and leaning against the sticky walls. Now what?

There was a raspy chuckle and a clinking sound following movement in the next cell. It was Shaya Greenwood, the supposed cold overland killer. And it sounded like, to Vector's disbelief, that they had actually shackled her. What was this, Medieval Times? This was a seriously twisted place.

"'Fat, ass-dwelling bastard monkey', eh? I'll have to remember that one." came a muted cough through the keep's walls. The voice was soft and sick sounding, with heavy tones of sorrow entwined in it. Vector raised an eyebrow. Was she really trying to start a conversation with him? He'd rather talk to Sergeant Thunder Thighs. There was more coughing. She sounded really ill. The festering air around them probably didn't help.

"You're one of the Chaotix, aren't you?" She managed to wheeze. "One of the Guardian's friends?"

The silence after her words begged for an answer, for sounds to fill the void. Vector sighed. He'd talk to her. But he never said he'd talk to her nicely.

"And you're the OPG murder, aren't you?" he quipped in a mocking tone. "The most hated person on Angel Island?"

"…I guess."

The crocodile was a little taken aback at the answer, but was quick on the rebound.

"Stunning. You aren't gonna bitch about it?"

"Too cliché." Shaya snorted humorlessly. Vector grunted and closed his eyes, resting his chin on his chest. Ladies and gentlemen, we have a nutjob, he mused to himself.

"Well? Did you do it?" An obvious, stupid question. But it needed asking.

"…I don't know."

What? Vector's eyes popped open.

"The hell do you mean 'you don't know'?" he hissed, incredulous. One of the biggest upsets in Angel Island's history, and the prime suspect 'doesn't know' if she committed it.

"Honestly. I don't… know." She groaned. "It's crazy, yeah?" there was a fit of coughing before she rasped on. "My memory is untrustworthy… everything is hazy. I can't imagine killing anyone, and yet, here I am. Covered in blood that's not my own…"

"…That's the biggest load of cheesy shit I have ever heard." Vector laughed snidely. "Congratulations." He heard a small almost indistinguishable chuckle from the other side. Silence reigned for a time, before there was a sound like leaves on stone. She was losing her voice.

"…You ever see a dead person?" her voice was quivering. Is this some kind of sick joke? Vector shook his head.

"Of course I have. I was cleaning up after you, you idiot." He snarled. This was getting old, fast. There was clinking in the next room, an indicator she was squirming uncomfortably in her confinements.

"No." she croaked. There was something unrecognizable in her voice. "No. Not like that." She waited for the reptile to say something, but he was hushed, his head turned toward the source of her voice.

"Have you seen them dying, becoming instantly lifeless? The light leaving from their eyes, the color flushing away from their face, and the blood that was once warm and coursing through their veins leak from their body, turning cold? The last gasping breaths, and the disbelief and agony contained within? Then realizing that you yourself are covered in that wretched blood, you caused that light to fade, and you forced those breaths out of that helpless body, without any recollection of committing that crime, or how you even got there for that matter? Have you experienced losing all trust in yourself completely, to stare at your own gore covered hands in utter confusion and disgust? No, I don't think you have. And I don't think you or any islander for that matter will believe or understand when I say that I would never kill a living thing. So telling the truth and pleading not guilty doesn't really matter, does it?"

It was a tidal wave of misery, uncertainty, and anger. It seemed to sweep across the air and drown the whole prison in a shaken stillness, and Vector was quietly swimming in the middle of it. Talk was cheap. Words right now would just drift listlessly in the dark waters. The girl took a choked breath. There was the clanking of her chains, and the assumption that she had lain down on the rancid floor, floating and resting on the sea of thoughts she had created.

"Your lover's here, sunshine." An all-too-familiar voice hooted. And suddenly, Vector wasn't swimming anymore. He looked up, and there with Colonel Chubby was Espio, his hands folded across his chest, and eyes narrowed. The crocodile wasn't sure if he was thrilled or terrified to see him. He rose unsteadily from the ground, and walked toward the exit. He was still dizzy from good 'ol Clark's concoction. Keys jangled, and magically, the cell door swung open. His jacket was hurled at him from some unseen source, and he thanked them with a middle finger (which he received a sharp jab in the ribs from Espio). And without a word from his chameleon friend, they began the trek toward the front of the building.

Before leaving the dismal hall, Vector chanced a look back at the laser-lighted cage. There, staring up at him with piercing green eyes and a blood streaked, fair face was the "ruthless murder" Shaya Greenwood. The reptile hesitated for a moment as he saw her lips forming silent words.

"So long."


The car ride with Espio was almost as bad as the one with the cop. There wasn't a word spoken, and every time Vector made a move toward the radio, his hand received a good slap. He spent the time making smiley faces gloomily in the fog on the window. He was unpleasantly surprised when they pulled up to Knuckles' stuffy apartment complex.

"What, I can't even go home? Unbelievable." Vector said, tossing an annoyed glance at Espio. Espio, in return, gave him an unreadable look that slightly frightened Vector.

"Everyone's meeting at Knux's place tonight. He said it was urgent. Whether it's about your screw-up or something else, I don't know." He muttered, emotionless, then got out of the car. "Come on."

Jamming his hands in his pockets and gritting his teeth, the crocodile followed. They walked swiftly through the fancy lobby with its chandeliers to the express elevators that waited on the other side. Vector seemed to draw disapproving looks from the apartment staff and its inhabitants. He saluted them with a raspberry as he sailed by. They stepped lightly into the threshold of the elevator and pressed floor number 24. The penthouse apartment. Life is good when you're the all-mighty Guardian.

The Echidna's residence was unusually dark; the glow of the moon from the windows washed everything in a white glimmer. Espio walked briskly through the giant entertainment room with its multiple stereos and its massive TV. Past guestrooms, balconies, and bathrooms they went, until they came to the only door with light escaping through the opening beneath. Without pause, the lizard swung the door open to Knuckles' office. Like Espio had said, everyone was there. Knuckles at the head of the prestigious oak meeting table in his leather chair, and the ever-present Julie-Su perched on his right, giving Vector a severe look. Even poor Mighty was there, sitting tenderly in a beat-up easy chair dragged from the guest room. He gave his crocodile friend a weak smile, the only one in the room. Espio made himself comfortable on the arm of the Mighty's run-down throne.

"Aw come here, you ugly lug," Vector grunted, and gave the armadillo a not-so-gentle hug. He winced and squirmed, but allowed his buddy to continue the painful gesture of affection. "Never thought seein' your chapped hide would be so comforting, pal."

"Heh heh… It's good to see you too, Vec… ow…" Mighty choked out, rubbing his bruises soothingly after Vector stopped crushing him. A sharp cough interrupted their comical reunion, and all eyes turned to an irritated Knuckles. The crocodile gritted his teeth, snatched a pack of cigarettes off the table, and made his residence in the lonely corner furthest from the Echidna.

"As much as we are all overjoyed to see Mighty in one piece," said the Guardian, nodding to his injured companion, who gave meek acknowledgement back. "I'm afraid we have very urgent business to take care of. So I'm afraid, Vector," his eyes turned fiercely to the reptile, who was lighting a fresh smoke at the moment. "We'll also have to postpone the telling of your latest little 'adventure', to everyone's dismay."

Vector gave Knuckles a sarcastic, venomous smile as an answer. Ass he thought bitterly, taking a well-needed drag on the cig. The Echidna then hit a few buttons on the remote beside him, making the room go dark. A large, sheet-like screen rolled down behind him, and a projector from somewhere in the room flickered to life. The image was of the recently deceased Gerry Ling, at an important looking event in Angel Island's main street.

"As you all undoubtedly know by now, the last of the OPG leaders, politician Gerry Ling, was murdered just a few hours ago at the West Sun hotel. With the entire Peace Guard organization now wiped out, there is no telling how the Islanders, or the overlanders, will now act. The rumors of war I believe are accurate. It's only a matter of time." Knuckles explained, rubbing his throbbing head carefully. The image changed to a blood-soaked young woman. "Shaya Greenwood. Nineteen years old, five-feet three inches, one-hundred and ten pounds, and supposed cold-blooded killer of ten OPG leaders. If you ask me, it's hard to believe a little Powerpuff Girl like her could cause so much damage."

The room nodded in silent agreement, but Vector just continued to stare at the screen, wondering if he should share his encounter with his friends. But Espio beat him to the punch.

"Ask the over-grown handbag his opinion. He had a cage next to hers in the slammer." He said coldly, pointing to the crocodile with an accusatory thumb. Vector frowned as all attention turned toward him. He took a breath of smoke from his cancer stick.

"Well?" Knuckles asked, impatiently. Vector made sure he took incredibly long to exhale before he spoke.

"…She's an odd one, for sure…" he muttered, hesitantly. He really didn't want to talk about it that much. "As for committing ten murders? Who the hell knows…"

The Echidna seemed to analyze Vector and his words for a moment before continuing on.

"Whether she's a basketcase or not, it seems highly unlikely that a young woman of her standard is capable to pull-off something this big. At least, not alone. Mighty, if you wouldn't mind sharing your experience on the recent case…"

"Not a problem." The armadillo wheezed. "So, twelve guards, including myself, were assigned to Mr. Ling. We were not to leave his side at any given time, even had to follow the guy into the restroom, for Chrissake. From what I saw, not one of the guards strayed from watch, seemingly eliminating the possibility of an inside man." He gave a slight cough, and scratched his nose before continuing on. "Everything was going as smoothly as a bodyguard case could go, until around… noon? I can't remember… Anyways, from my understanding, Gerry received a strange phone call during that time, that obviously disturbed him. An undecipherable message, I heard."

"You know what it was?" Knuckles interjected quickly, interested. Mighty shook his head sadly.

"Unfortunately, no. He refused to tell anyone." The Guardian waved his hand for him to continue on. "So get this, the guy starts to act strange and demands to be taken immediately to his suite, won't take no for an answer. We get there, he opens his room, and a tidal wave of a strange smelling, pitch-black gas just blasts everyone in the face."

"Knockout gas?" Julie-Su interrupted.

"No. At least, I don't think we were unconscious." Mighty racked his brain for the foggy memories. "I remember everyone was yanked into the room, staggering in the darkness. Next thing we know, there are punches coming from everywhere, and I heard multiple shots fired. This may sound crazy, but I don't remember seeing anything in the room… anything living…"

"…What are you saying?" Knuckles asked, concerned. The armadillo clearly didn't want to explain, but was nudged gently by Espio to carry on.

"Honestly? It looked like… ghosts."

The room was silent. Vector gave his injured pal a curious look. The poor guy was clearly embarrassed, rubbing the large bump on his head nervously. Knuckles was staring straight at the wall, contemplating. Finally, he spoke.

"Thank you, Mighty." He said distinctly, unshaken by the armadillo's strange account. "I think you may have helped my case along. Obviously, there is more to this situation than the public and the authorities will admit. The phone call, the gas, the obvious evidence… Something is plainly wrong here. But unfortunately, we need more time than we have to uncover it."

"What's the problem?"

"An execution date for Miss Greenwood has already been set. This Friday morning."

A wave of surprise rippled across the room.

"So soon? That's two days from now. No trial, no court? Flat out capital punishment?" Julie-Su prompted. Knuckles gave a dry laugh.

"You think they're going to provide justice to the most hated overlander on the island right now? Especially when they have her cornered with evidence and everything? That's putting way too much faith in society. No, I have already argued with the higher-ups about this. There will be no postponing the sentence. Shaya Greenwood will die Friday, by the special sentence of public hanging."

The same thought drifted through everyone's mind. Public hanging. A helluva way to die. Vector took an endless drag at the thought.

"So now what?" Mighty asked quietly. Knuckles sighed and pressed a few buttons, returning the room to normal and blinding everyone with the sudden light.

"We obviously need more time to figure this shit out," Vector murmured, exhaling smoke. "But how?"

"We buy time." The Echidna said matter-of-factly, his voice muffled by the hands that covered his face. The room was silent once more as they processed this answer, making sure they heard correctly.

"What are you suggesting, exactly?" Espio asked cautiously, breaking the ice. All eyes turned to their red leader, who was still buried in his gloves. He shifted slightly in his seat.

"I'm suggesting..." he said slowly, quietly. "We need to make a prison break."

To be continued…


Eh, so how was it? I'm probably a little rusty at it. Pardon any errors, I didn't want to reread it 50x over, lol. Also, as you can see, I'm kind of wingin' it, as I haven't read the comics in years. Knuckles could have ditched Julie-Su and be living in a garbage pail, and I wouldn't know, haha. Please let me know what you think, it'll (hopefully) brighten my day.