Ciel- Wow, we certainly got a lot of reviews for the last chapter. I'm surprised! Anyway, this chapter was written by Blue Mage Quartet (the last one was half from me, and half from azngirlchibi, by the way), and we hope you enjoy it!

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If there were two things Sonic absolutely loathed, they were, in order:

If there were two things Sonic absolutely loathed, they were, in order:

1.) being confined in small short, short spaces with very little room to move

2.) and being forced to ride in vehicles. Seriously, those hulking, two-ton scrap heaps with wheels attached were so slow. Sonic wondered how Shadow could stand to drive something that couldn't even go a fraction of his max speed on-foot. And some of them were just so bulky and plain ugly.

"Like these police cars," Sonic thought as the handcuffs clamped around his wrists. "Now give me a good bi-plane. That's the way to travel in style. Feel the wind in your fur, and the sun on your skin."

A small crowd had started to gather around the scene, a mix of curious, worried expressions as well as the people whose eyes were so huge that they looked as if they would just pop out of their sockets and roll along their merry way.

Sonic gave himself the once-over, searching for something on his person that said, "Yes, please do stare at me until I'm uncomfortable". He hated the feeling of so many eyes on him at once, staring at him as if he was some kind of freak of nature. It wasn't like he was a terminally ill, child cancer patient.

So, naturally, this situation wasn't turning into something Sonic would place at the top of his "20 Things to Do before I Die" list.

The hero was interrupted from his thoughts as one the police officers forcefully shoved him through the open car door and into the back seat.

Landing face forward on the leather seat, Sonic squirmed around ungracefully trying to turn face-up. "Can't…. even… move properly with these things," Sonic lamented as the metal chafed his wrists.

His attempt at curling up in a ball and dashing through the cuffs couldn't exactly be called successful. His arms, locked together behind him, weren't able to curl forward like he was used to.

The hapless hedgehog sighed as the door behind him slammed, wondering what exactly he had done to be thrown into the back of a police car. This spot was reserved for arsonists, robbers, and people who stole other people's underwear. Not for heroes who've saved the world more times than could be counted on both fingers and toes.

"I've even died once," Sonic grumbled, his arms beginning to ache as he managed to turn on his side and lever himself up into a sitting position. "You'd think people would be a little more grateful."

Sonic's ears perked up as the engine revved. He flinched as the tires squealed from the 0 to 40 acceleration, barreling forward into the traffic-jammed city streets.

His eyes took in the packed together buildings of several varieties: Laundromats, bar-and-casinos, hotels. The sun was shining agreeably through clear grayish-white clouds, although partially obscured by tendrils of smog, and from the bearable temperature, Sonic guessed it was sometime around mid spring here in…

"Los Angeles," Sonic said, more to himself than to the officers manning the vehicle. He'd never heard the name back home, and wondered briefly if there remained undiscovered territory on his planet, but nixed the idea. He and Tails (with Knuckles sometimes along for the ride, albeit grudgingly, and Amy usually stalking-following- along too) had explored all the major zones and bodies of land. If there had been such a large, populated city, they wouldn't have missed it.

Twiddling his thumbs, Sonic looked up at the tall humans in the front seat. They didn't look different compared to Station Square's humans. Just… the hedgehog thought they looked unhappy, tired. Their faces seemed much paler- almost wan- compared to the humans he'd often met. Their lips curled into a frown, their eyes cold and not exactly friendly.

As if pain, anger, and grief were everyday occurrences etched into them. An inescapable, inevitable part of their lives.

"I wonder if these dudes are ever happy…" he thought, considering that it might just be the fact that they were police officers that made them that way.

Not to mention they were a whole lot less accepting of the good guys.

"So," Sonic stated idly, hoping to make conversation. Anything was better than listening to the monotonous sound of car horns bleating repeatedly. (Seriously, traffic isn't going to magically fix itself, no matter how many times you jam down on your steering wheel.) "Would one of you mind telling me, y'know, what I did? Because, if just standing on the sidewalk minding your own business is a crime, there are about 20 people you didn't cuff back there," Sonic pointed with both hands over his shoulder, the chain binding his gloved hands together jingling softly.

Both officers ignored him, the one driving opting instead to turn on his blinker and turn to the right.

The scenery didn't change much as they headed further into the city. Sonic briefly wondered how in the world these people were able to breathe, due to such mass emission of exhaust fumes- "Another reason why cars are bad," Sonic murmured to himself- and the extreme clogged and crowded nature of the city in general. The hedgehog smiled to himself as he imagined that if this Los Angeles place was a person, it's arteries would be massively congested and the city would've died of heart failure many times over.

Plus, everything was so very… human. The only objects in sight were off-white, faded buildings, telephone poles whose lines spider webbed above the street like a net, and concrete sidewalks with black-yellow roads sandwiched between them.

"I haven't even seen a single tree!" Sonic half shouted, surprising himself. It was just… so overwhelming, being in a strange place with nothing familiar. Even the sight of the beautiful, snow-tipped mountain peaks across the skyline didn't cheer him up.

The car came to an abrupt halt, Sonic grabbing the seat frantically to avoid pitching into the floorboard.

He grudgingly scooted forward and out of the car as the police officer unlocked swung the door open.

Granted, Sonic had never been to a courthouse, much less thought that he'd ever have to be brought into one under police custody, but the building was easily identified. Sure, the big bold writing above the entrance reading "United States Courthouse" was a bit of a teller, but the impressive ivory columns and the glass-paned entrance atop a long set of stairs distinguished it from the rest of the cluttered buildings.

He had, at one time, been desperate enough to consider going to court and filling a restraining order against Amy Rose, but she would've violated it and popped up in his house anyway. (How DID she get inside his apartment and manage to bury herself in his closet when she didn't have a key?)

Sonic fell forward unceremoniously as one of the cops shoved him forward. Clambering up, the azure male angrily glared at the bulkier human, one that clearly said "just-wait-until-I-get-these-cuffs-off-and-you'll-see-how-rude-you-are-then" before starting up the steps.

As he reached the annex, Sonic was very happy for the (rather strange) complete absence of people. Everything was calm and quiet. Moreover, there was no one to stare at him either. What with the reactions of the people on the street corner, you would think they had never seen a walking, talking (strikingly handsome, if he did say so himself) blue hedgehog.

The policemen herded him throughout strange hallways and empty rooms before coming to a stop in front of a door that was plain and blank, which was strange because every door in the building was labeled or otherwise marked to act as a guide for the hopelessly lost.

He had been slightly confused when the humans had just shoved him right past the door that read "Courtroom" seeing as they had taken him to a courthouse. He had to stand trial for whatever the hell type of crime it was he committed, right? Maybe the people of the city thought he was a wild, infected animal and were deathly afraid of rabies. Sonic had to stop himself from checking for any froth at the mouth.

"Are you sure you guys know what you're doing? Don't I have to get an attorney first, or something?" Instead of an answer, the cops opened the door and flung him inside.

He considered himself lucky that he didn't land facedown again. The room he occupied was bare, except for a small, worn, dust-covered wooden table and a decrepit old chair next to it. The swinging, cone shaped lamp with the half-dead bulb was the only source of illumination. Sonic vaguely wondered if someone would pop out of the shadows and start asking him questions about where he was on the 20th or when he left town on Tuesday or what he was doing wearing a deformed costume that was supposed to resemble himself.

Scooting the chair back as best he could- everything was hard when your hands are cuffed together- Sonic plopped down, surprised that it didn't collapse under his weight. Sighing, the hedgehog thought aloud, "I wonder when I get my phone call. Maybe I can call Tails, see if he can get me out of this. That is, if the kid still isn't riled up about the staple gun… On the other hand, y'know, I could call Amy. She'd likely be angry to enough to massacre anything in her way to come rescue me."

He thought he heard a slight shuffle in the shadows. Shifting the chair around, Sonic scanned the room, but his green eyes didn't pick up anything unusual. Not, the hedgehog thought, that there was anything "usual" about the situation. He was alone in a strange city, handcuffed in some kind of investigation room/storage closet that hadn't seen human contact in possibly a millennia.

"Or a feather duster," the teenage hedgehog said, eyeing the dust particles that drifted about lazily in the light from the overhead lamp. This place was dirty.

There was a barely perceptible prick on his upper shoulder. Sonic briefly thought he saw a form swathed in a white coat and the flash of a glass syringe in the swinging light.

He suddenly knew the source of the noise.

"So… wait… they stick me, the good guy…with something?" Sonic's words were suddenly heavy, slurred. His mouth struggled to form words. His eyes were seeing spots and inky bursts of darkness.

"I'd hate… to see…how they treated….the criminals…"

He tried to stand up, but his legs were suddenly very unsteady, and his brain seemed to lack any sort of higher function, other than 'feel-funny, rest-now.' Sonic collapsed to the floor, his vision dimming to a murky black.