Chapter 2
"Okay people, we've got three days till we go to print – what've you got for me?"
"Horseshit, bullshit, and fuckshit…" Knuckles sighed, scrolling through a mostly blank template on his computer, glad to be staring at anything rather than several half-finished Word documents of his own uninspired writing.
"Ze 'allways are the safeness total and ze rule-smashing is down 12 zis semester…" Silver chuckled, scanning an email sent to their little office by the resident hall monitor.
Sally let out a small laugh, "Get on translating that into something the student body can understand…and care about," she told the white hedgehog, before placing a hand on Knuckles shoulder as she leaned over him, "Think we can stretch the update on the building repairs to fill a whole page, if we slap in a shot of random construction?"
"Yeah, maybe," he sighed, bringing up one of the documents (literally saved under the heading of 'Crap, Part 1'), "Speaking of repairs, you hear about the number Sonic did on the cafeteria this morning?"
"I did," she nodded, "It wasn't during my lunch period buteverybody was talking about it. I'm sure we could fill a whole two-page spread with embellished 'eye witness' descriptions if we wanted to."
"Heh, he's crazy," Silver muttered, hoping none of the guilty admiration he held for the reckless blue hedgehog managed to make its way into his tone.
"I can only imagine," she replied, "But everybody sure goes crazy over him. If we ever really wanted to sell in mass amounts, he'd certainly be worth looking into for an exposé or something."
Knuckles snorted in exasperated disbelief, "Trust me, that's the last thing his ego needs…"
"Warning well taken," she nodded, slipping into the seat beside him, "Surprising coming from his best friend, though."
"You take the good with the bad in everyone," the echidna shrugged indifferently, "Friends included."
"Fair enough," she conceded, "So scratch the ego-booster. We've gotta havesomething worth writing about – it's a pretty damn big school," she said, leaning back in her chair, arms draped over the back.
"Yer dad donating anymore money to fix up this dump?" Silver inquired, his pencil rotating slowly in midair next to him, illuminated green by the psychic energy holding it in place, "That's always worth at least a paragraph of space…"
"Ya know, I haven't asked him in a while," she mused, "I'll see if he's in need of any good publicity at dinner tonight."
"Probably could use some- isn't his job approval rating at, like, 20 or something?" Knuckles sniggered, leaning his chair back on two legs in his frustrated boredom.
"It's not entirely his fault!" she protested weakly, "He just…never recovered from Robotnik's last attack this past summer…"
"Maybe if the police had caught the bastard…"
"He's gotten eluding them down to an art," she sighed, "I just wonder where the hell he disappears to."
"If only one'a his robots would trample through the auditorium again," the red-furred humanoid pondered aloud wistfully, "Now that'd make fine material for an article."
"Plus, it'd get us out of scare-tactic drug and sex presentations for months," she added, flipping her auburn hair out of her eyes.
"And we could stop writing 'important follow-up articles' about them," Silver spoke up dryly, stretching his arms behind his head in an effort to shake off the stiffness that came with sitting in front of a computer for long periods of time.
The echidna shuddered. "Wishful thinking."
"Such is the plight of the high school journalist it seems."
"Uncovering the truth behind lunch menu choices, one 'insider scoop' at a time…" Knuckles sighed, cracking his neck back and forth.
"Which none of us are really inspired to do at the moment," she stated, "If you guys wanna head home, that's cool with me. I'll lock up and then I've got a politics paper to get to."
"Cool, thanks Sally," Silver said, standing up and pushing in his chair. He leaned over the keyboard and quickly shut down his computer, his backpack (camera included) floating over to him from where he'd dropped it on the floor earlier, "Don't worry, I'm sure a fresh start tomorrow'll give us some new ideas," he smiled brightly, the unconscious naivety of his statement well-muddled by his genuine earnestness, "See you guys later!"
"Have a good night!" she called after him, then turned to gather her own things. "Did you wanna hang out or do you work better alone?" she asked, turning towards the echidna as she swung her bag over her shoulder.
"I can lock up if you wanna head home to work on your paper," Knuckles replied evasively, "I'm just gonna stare at the screen for a while…hope that some'a this shit turns into something usable…"
"Good luck with that," she smirked, "I'll see you tomorrow."
"Later."
"I'm in the basement; door's open! If yer a burglar, there's not much worth taking up there, but feel free to start with the china- never much liked that ol' set…"
"Love to, but it doesn't go with the décor in my apartment," Dr. Sawyer replied, descending the stair into what she was positive didn't constitute a 'basement' for all the modifications the hedgehog had made.
"Ah, Ms.- er, Dr. Sawyer," Uncle Chuck smiled, pulling off his grease-covered gloves to offer her a handshake, "Pleasure to see you again, ma'am."
"And you as well, Charles," she replied, accepting his hand, "Though I'm afraid the reason for my coming isn't nearly so positive."
The older hedgehog sighed, wiping a bit of sweat off his brow with the back of one of his gloves, "Can I offer you a drink?" he asked politely, hoping to put off what he was sure was going to be an unpleasant conversation a few minutes longer, "There's a fresh pitcher of lemonade up in the fridge…"
"Certainly, thank you," she nodded, retracing her steps up the stairs. She couldn't decide whether it was a good thing or not that she had the layout of the house committed to memory. "I do apologize for just dropping in like this – I tried to call earlier."
"Hmm? Oh sorry," Uncle Chuck chuckled, rubbing the back of his head in embarrassment as he trotted up the stairs after her, "Using the power tools down here can get pretty loud sometimes…"
"I can imagine," she said, "Business is good then?"
"Good as it can be, I suppose," he nodded, "Hate to admit it, but there's always a lot more work for me in the months after a Robotnik attack."
"That's not surprising," she said as they entered the kitchen, "At least there are those of you able to help pick up the pieces."
"Pick 'em up, put 'em back together, charge for it," Charles laughed as he opened the refrigerator, pulling out a tall pitcher of lemonade.
"It's as good a way as any to make a living," she shrugged, sliding into one of the barstools that circled the island in the center of the room.
"Don't I know it," he replied, retrieving two glasses from the cabinet next to the fridge.
She waited until he had set a full glass in front of her and taken a seat himself before speaking again. "So, as you've probably guessed, I'm here about Sonic."
"Shoulda known you weren't just here cuz ya missed me," the light-blue humanoid replied exasperatedly, taking a small sip of his drink, "What's he done this time?"
"Decided the cafeteria made a perfect skate park," she answered, "Which doesn't really surprise me at all, or even bother me all that much – you and I both know he's done worse – but Principal Brantley's on his last nerve and I'm running out of ways to appease him."
"I suppose 'boys will be boys' doesn't really cut it anymore, huh?" Uncle Chuck sighed weakly, shaking his head, "I'll talk to him when he gets home tonight, rest assured."
"Thank you – and I really can't stress enough how you need to make him realize how dangerously close to expulsion he's getting. I know he'll take it seriously if he hears it from you. I'm pretty sure everything I tell him goes in one ear and out the other…"
"Sometimes I feel that way myself, but I'll certainly give it my best shot," Chuck assured her, staring tiredly down at his half-empty glass of lemonade, the tiny crystals of mix clouding around the slowly-melting ice cube, "He really is a good kid, you know- on Monday nights we watch football together; he walked the little girl across the street to her elementary school every morning for a month until she felt comfortable doing it herself…" he continued, getting rather lost in his defense of his lone remaining living relative as he watched the sugary powder in his drink begin to settle at the bottom of the glass.
Sawyer couldn't help but smile in revelation. 'That explains all the tardies in September…' "I know Charles, and I like him, I really do. Iwant him to do well, but it's up to him to apply himself properly. Has he mentioned college to you at all?"
The elderly hedgehog shook his head, "No, if he's thought about it at all, he hasn't said anything to me."
"I was afraid of that," she sighed, "Unfortunately for the both of us, we can't force him have aspirations."
"Haven't found a pill or a person yet capable of doing that," Charles smiled weakly, polishing off the remains of his drink in a large gulp.
"And I know you've tried just about everything out there," she nodded, "Well, maybe we can just keep pushing our luck and get him through graduation, at least."
"Yeah, hopefully," the other replied glumly, "Thanks, Dr. Sawyer, I appreciate you taking the time to come see me…again."
"Always a pleasure Charles, regardless of circumstances," she said, sliding her purse over her shoulder and offering him her hand.
He accepted smoothly, shaking the young feline's hand gently, "Have a good day, ma'am."
"You too." And with a final curt nod, she departed.
Sonic yawned, leaning backwards in the roller chair he'd taken from the manager's office as he ran a gloved finger down a huge stack of CDs, examining the labels half-heartedly. He glanced over the counter at the empty store; it was a fairly typical day of work- business at 'Coconut's' wasn't usually booming to begin with, what with the internet making the necessity of buying new albums very low… He sighed, unbuttoning the top collar button of his white, polo T-shirt, then resumed scanning the CD rack behind him for something suitable to help him pass the time.
As he was making through the 'D's, the bell at the door let out a loud jingle and he turned slowly. Customers were unlikely, so he had a pretty good guess who it was before he even saw their faces.
"Hiya Sonic!" Tails chirped, cheeks rosy from the cold afternoon air.
"Hey, buddy," Sonic called, spinning around in his seat to face the door, waving a hand over at the two-tailed fox. He managed to resist rolling his eyes as he watched Amy enter as well, hot on Tails' heels. While he might not've reciprocated her frequently proclaimed feelings for him, she wasn't all that bad. And eventually (God willing) she'd move on… "Hey, Amy. How's it goin', guys?"
"Awesome," Tails said, chest puffed out slightly, "They posted up basketball try-out results after school today – I made junior varsity!"
"Nice!" the blue hedgehog smiled brightly, leaping up out of his chair and over to the edge of the counter, his hand held high.
The fox beamed proudly and went up on tiptoe to complete the high five, "Thanks!"
"Yeah it's been a pretty big day," Amy said, leaning up against the counter as she pulled her scarf loose, "Did you manage to talk you way out of detention?"
"For the moment," he sighed, folding his arms behind his head, "I'll probably have to do it tomorrow…"
"Aww, that sucks," she said, "So does that book up the rest of your afternoons?"
"Well, at least tomorrow's, anyway. Then there's always the joy of work…"
"Glad I'm not old enough to hafta work yet," Tails said with a guilty grin.
"Don't get cocky on me, pal," Sonic chuckled, ruffling the younger humanoid's head-fur, "You'll get there soon enough."
"Yeah, I know…Dang…with that and sports and school it's gonna get tougher to find time to just hang out, huh?" the fox asked, blue eyes wide.
"'Fraid so," the older humanoid nodded, just a hint of regret in his tone, turning back towards the huge stack of CDs, "Any preferences?" he called over his shoulder.
"Have you got the Mika imports in yet?" Amy asked.
Sonic smirked just slightly, 'Shoulda known- at least it isn't J-Pop…' "Life in Cartoon Motion it is," he announced, popping open the CD case and placing the disc into the boom box sitting on a stool next to his chair.
"Sweet!" she gave a little cheer and then hoisted herself up onto the counter, "How long are you here tonight?"
"Ten," he replied, "Then I gotta run over to the store and pick up groceries for Uncle Chuck…I'm sure Knuckles doesn't have any plans, I'll probably bother him to come with me."
"Sounds like a blast," she said, rolling her eyes.
"You guys ever notice how the grocery store never seems to get any damage when there's an attack?" Tails mused innocently.
"Can't see why Robotnik would wanna waste his missiles out this way- he's got bigger fish to fry, like the industrial section and the financial district…"
"Good point…" the fox murmured, having turned half of his attention to the bargain bin off to one side of the counter.
"If you guys have homework, feel free to set up shop," Sonic told them, settling down in his chair and propping his feet up on the counter again, "My manager's passed out in his office again and he won't be up for at least a couple of hours…"
"Cool!"
"Okay!"
The younger pair began unloading their book bags onto the counter, each collection of text books and supplies distinct to the owner. While Amy's workload consisted of British Literature and Art History, Tails' was still working his way through Algebra 2 and English Composition.
"Looks like fun," he snorted, reaching back behind him to crank the volume up a bit more. Truth be told, he most likely had homework to do as well, but he'd never been able to bring himself to care about such things, especially not in his senior year of high school.
"Actually I kinda like math," Tails admitted, tucking one pencil behind his tufted ear as he set another against a blank sheet of notebook paper. "It's a little too easy right now, but I should be able to move on to tougher stuff in the spring."
Sonic blinked in surprise (the very idea of enjoying math seemed contradictory), "Well alright, man, cool," he said, trying to be supportive, "Sounds like a plan."
"Mm-hmm," the fox nodded, before turning his full attention to his work.
'Well that was a colossal waste of time…' Knuckles thought bitterly as he dumped his backpack on the front hall floor, 'Got nothing done there, and now who knows how long till he gets home…'
The house was empty and still- in fact, there were very few indicators that two humanoids actually occupied the house: the house wasn't well-kempt unless his father was having guests over, resulting in a thin layer of dust over most of the furniture that seemed to dull the color. This kept in style with the wallpaper, an already boring beige color which had faded over the years through sunlight damage and neglect.
With a slight snort of disgust he dragged a gloved finger along the kitchen counter, sneered at the gray stain it left on the tip, and then meandered over to the fridge. If he was going to hole himself away in his bedroom for the night, he would need supplies to last him until morning. He emerged with an armful of less-than-healthy edibles and a soda bottle tucked under his chin, then returned to the foyer, grabbed his backpack and trudged up the stairs. Rather than the family photos that littered his best friend's home, the walls he passed were dotted with bizarre frames images of geometric shapes what his father called 'modern art', making the place look more like an office building than anything else. When the place was cleaned, it even took on the air of a dentist's office, which seemed almost fitting to the teen echidna.
As he approached his room, he spied a yellow sticky-note slapped crookedly on his door, which merely read: 'Back at 11.' "Perfect…"
"Sir? My shift's up, so I'm outta here. See ya." Sonic saluted the still-dozing figure of his human employer and then turned on his heels.
He exited the store, his backpack slung over his shoulder, one hand smoothing out his spikes with one hand, 'What a waste of time…' he exhaled noisily, his breath rising visibly around him from the chilly, clear night air. Sitting on his ass for six hours a day whilst bored out of his mind and hungry just couldn't be worth $7.75 an hour, no matter what way he looked at it.
If they'd lived closer to the center of the city, the streets would surely be crowded, but this far out the number of night wanderers in any given area could be counted on one hand, and interactions between them were even fewer. So the quiet sounds of a scuffle a few blocks ahead caused the hedgehog's ears to perk up instantly.
If there was anyway to get his blood flowing again (and admittedly, he needed some sort of exercise after having exactly nil to do for a full quarter of the day), a fight would certainly do the trick. He took off like a shot, already eagerly anticipating the upcoming action, following the source of the noise.
What he found when he turned into the alley was not much of a fight, or at least only a very one-sided one. A young man, probably not much older than the hedgehog himself, was beating an older, better dressed one about the head, demanding a submission of money.
Sonic snarled angrily, charging forward towards the despicable scene. Criminals simply came with the territory when living in a city, but that didn't make it any easier to accept, "Hey, jackass!" he called loudly, stopping a dozen steps or so from the attacker.
The assailant turned, "Get lost, ya fuckin' crawler, this ain't none a' yer concern."
The blue hedgehog's temper flared up at the derogatory slur, his gloved fists clenched tightly. People were, if nothing else, wonderful racists: dark-skinned humans were referred to by the n-word, mixed skins got 'mulatto,' and the varied humanoid population were slanderously called 'crawlers' for their ancestral history of walking on four legs so close to the ground. In an instant he was beside the thug, his fist thrust into the man's stomach.
As the human doubled over, trying to regain the breathe that had been knocked out of him, Sonic leapt up and brought his elbow down against the back of the man's neck and he crumpled to the ground, completely out cold. The hedgehog gave him a final, bitter kick in the side for good measure and then glanced up at the elder human. "You okay, mister?"
"Y-yes, I'm alright," the other nodded as he struggled back to his feet, a Kleenex held up against his head in order to stop a cut he'd received from bleeding, "Thanks for your help. I swear, this city is getting worse by the day…"
"Tell me about it," Sonic sighed, reaching out to put a hand on the stranger's back to steady him, "Listen, do you live far from here? I'm not in any hurry and I'd feel better if I knew you got home alright."
"That'd be just my luck- saved from a mugging only to be robbed again," the old human chuckled bitterly, "It's only a fifteen minute walk to my house; I couldn't impose on you any further, young man."
"It really isn't any trouble…" the teen insisted, gazing warily up at the rapidly soaking Kleenex, "Which direction are you headed?"
"Just down Acorn Boulevard, another six blocks or so," the man explained, his eyes scanning the ground for his cane (it had gotten knocked away from him when that thug attacked him).
"Well that's right on my way home," he lied, realizing why they hadn't yet departed and joining the search. He crouched down, peeking beneath a nearby dumpster and extracting the walking stick. "Here ya go."
"Thank you," the other mumbled embarrassedly, leaning heavily on his cane as he began to walk down the street again, "You have quite a gift, young man- your speed back there was amazing…"
"Yeah well…" Sonic shrugged, following along beside him, "It's kinda genetic, I guess, and it comes in handy sometimes."
"Well, it certainly beats being three-legged," the old man chuckled weakly, feeling a bit of blood begin to seep through his tissue onto his hand.
The hedgehog could only smile sadly. How long would it be before Uncle Chuck would lose the spryness the teen had always known? "You have somebody at home who can look at that cut?" he asked.
"Certainly, certainly- I have two sons, so my wife has spent the better part of two decades looking after worse than this," the human replied quickly, his eyes becoming a bit less focused as he gazed off into the distance towards his house.
"Alright good," he nodded, then let out a small laugh, "Two boys, huh? Must've been a crazy house – my uncle had a hard enough time with just me."
"Certainly was for a while there," the elderly gentleman agreed, "Awful lot of good memories though…"
"I bet…" The pair walked in unusually comfortable silence for a few moments longer and then the man began to slow. "This you here?"
"Indeed it is," the man replied, hobbling up the steps with as much dignity as he could muster, "I can't thank you enough for all your help. I wish I could offer you something monetary for your trouble, but as I was trying to explain to that thug earlier, I'm not as well off as I appear," he explained, his voice losing some of its luster as he entered financial territory, "Would you like a cup of tea, perhaps?" he offered feebly.
Tempting as it was, hedid still have groceries to pick up and while the store may have been open all night, he didn't like the idea of Uncle Chuck worrying more than necessary. "That's okay, I've gotta keep moving. You take care of yourself, alright?"
"I certainly will," the old gentleman nodded, smiling, "Thanks again; have a good night, young man…"
"Ditto, sir," Sonic said, offering a quick two-fingered salute and then continuing his slow trot down the street. As he reached the next block, he turned, checked to be sure the man had vanished inside his house, and then took off in the opposite direction.
'Still no cars in the driveway- well, that figures,' the hedgehog shrugged, walking casually into his best friend's house through the unlocked front door, "Yo, Knux, where ya hidin'?"
"I'm not hiding!" came a shout from up the stairs, "What do you want?"
"Quit blastin' the emo and I might be able to tell ya!" Sonic called back, rolling his eyes.
"Just because it's not unintelligible screaming doesn't mean it's emo!"
"Would you just come down here already?"
The music ceased, and a few heavy 'thud's later the echidna was standing at the top of the stairs. "What?"
"Geez, don't bite my fuckin' head off," Sonic chuckled, holding his hands up defensively, "I gotta go grocery shopping- wanna come with?"
Knuckles glanced at his watch, "I dunno…how long's it gonna take?"
"You got a curfew or somethin'?" Sonic inquired, scratching the top of his head in puzzlement.
"Kinda…my dad'll be home at eleven."
'And you care because…?' "It's only 10:20, it won't take more than a half-hour," the hedgehog assured his friend, leaning against the frame of the front door, one foot on the ground while its twin rested on the frame behind him.
"Alright, alright, I'm coming," Knuckles surrendered, making his way quickly down the stairs, "Wait – did you come here from work?"
"Sorta- had to take a detour," the other explained, straightening up hurriedly.
"But isn't the grocery store between work and here?" he asked as he grabbed his keys off the otherwise empty hooks near the door.
"I got a little sidetracked; had to stop a mugging on my home- anyway, point is, it was faster to lap the city than backtrack…"
"Right…"
"Ahhh, good ol' Egmans – home of the world's largest collection of disgruntled employees."
"I'd be disgruntled too if the store never closed," Knuckles snorted, his hands stuffed in his pockets as the pair entered the grocery mart, "Low pay and wildly unpredictable hours; thank God Walmart hasn't thought of doing this yet…"
Sonic merely snickered into his hand, "Can't believe you work at Walmart…"
"Shut up."
"Yeah, yeah," the hedgehog shrugged, pulling a scrap of paper from his jacket pocket, "Here – think ya can handle the deli stuff?"
"Well, it takes at least half a brain to do so, so I guess that rules you out…" the echidna responded, taking the note.
Sonic frowned, "Aww shaddup. Have fun with Statler and Waldorf over there."
Aside from having an eclectic, unusual assortment of human, managerial employees, the local grocer, despite its rather mediocre appearance, had a strangely high amount of robots (normally reserved for only the most high-end socialites with rich, private estates, or huge industrial complexes), including two seemingly-incompetently programmed droids back at the deli counter: a tall, chicken-humanoid-shaped robot and a shorter machine that was, at best, the world's dumbest tank, "Yeah, thanks…"
"You bet!" Sonic grinned, then, catching sight of the twitching tail of his particular favorite mechanical employee, he dashed off to have a bit of fun.
"Snively, do you have those financial reports I asked for?"
"Right here, sir," the tiny, sparsely-haired man drawled, gesturing at a manila folder resting on top of the usual clutter of his desk.
"Ah, excellent," Julian Kintobor, aka Dr. Ivo 'Eggman' Robotnik, said gruffly, adjusting the collar of his white, XL-sized, button-down dress shirt, reaching out with his free hand to accept the file.
"We've been doing moderately well this quarter, sir," Snively added, as he handed it off.
While being the despotic dictator of the country was his ultimate ambition, being an evil genius didn't pay the bills, particularly when funding a private vendetta against a government that put a little too much attention on its military actions, as opposed to its internal issues, such as lowering the poverty level or lowering the wealth disparity between the few rich and the many, many poor (human and humanoid alike). Thus, this store was the result of his fallback plan for when an attack yielded less than optimal results: 'Egmans.' Not the most profitable of businesses, but it was quiet, out of the spotlight due to its outer-city location, and a nice chance to regroup.
Roughly every few months he got together enough money to try again, with renewed resources and vigor, while the city groaned beneath the financial burden of having to continuously rebuild. It was only a matter of time before he gained control of the Mobotropolis and with that kind of leverage, the country would follow suit soon after. He smiled thinly, left hand pinching the end of his long, red mustache, "People always need to eat, nephew, and we don't have much competition left…"
"Indeed…" the younger man nodded. Boredly, he glanced over at the security monitors. Keeping the place open for business twenty-four hours a day hadn't been his idea (he wasn't losing his hair due to genetics, after all – though looking at Kintobor you'd never know it), and it certainly lead to all wakes of life to wander their aisles. And one specific customer always seemed to show his face around this time of night. "Oh joy, the furry blue delinquent is back, sir…"
"What's he doing, riding a cart or bothering the janitor?" Eggman sighed, setting the folder down on his desk.
"That latter for the moment, sir…"
"Go help him to make his purchases, Snively…"
"Right away, sir…"
"Isn't Swiss cheese almost the same as Provolone?"
"No!" Knuckles cried, yanking on his dreadlocks in frustration, "They're not the same at all!"
"But I already cut this one!" the tank-shaped machine, dubbed 'Grounder' by the little name-tag on his apron, responded indignantly.
"But it wasn't what I asked for!"
"Geez, you fleshy creatures are so annoying!" the droid fumed, placing down the incorrect cheese next to the slicer, "All these cheeses look alike- this isn't my primary function, you know…"
"If this isn't what you were built for, than why are you here?"
"Because shut up, that's why!"
Knuckles groaned, leaning against the smudged glass display case. "Right…Look, would it help if I climbed back there and pointed out the right ones?"
Grounder mumbled something incoherently, then began slicing a log of provolone cheese furiously.
The echidna watched him momentarily, then glanced over his shoulder towards the rest of the store. 'Hope Sonic's having better luck…'
Egman's lone janitor, a monkey-humanoid-shaped robot, held a surprising amount of bitterness for his assigned position. While he was fairly efficient at his tasks of cleaning, mopping, toilet scrubbing, waste management, etc., his shoddy programming seemed to lean heavily towards a strange mixture of grumpiness and OCD. Knowing this, every time he entered the supermarket, Sonic simply couldn't resist having a bit of fun with the droid. He followed half a dozen steps behind the robot, pretending to be merely shopping for different items (at the moment, cereal) whilst casually knocking things to the floor. Since his super-speed allowed him to distance himself from the mess (and thus the blame), the robot had no choice but to have to stop, turn around, and waste time placing the items back on their shelves, muttering and swearing to itself.
He was moving towards his next target when a nasally "Ahem…!" sounded in his ear. With a slight bristling of the fur on the back of his neck, the hedgehog turned, only to find himself nose to long-pointed-nose with the store's middle manager.
"Hey, what's up…" he glanced down at the little human's name tag quickly, then back up, "Clint?"
'Goddamn wrong nametag…' "You know very well what my name is, young man…"
"Aw, you know I'm just messin' with ya," he chuckled, punching the supervisor playfully (albeit perhaps intentionally a bit hard) on the arm, "Sup, Snive?"
"Just stopping by to remind you that the merchandise belongs either on the shelf or in your hand, and not on the floor," the human droned, rubbing his arm, "As I have time and time again…"
"Dunno what yer talkin' about," the hedgehog replied innocently, "Maybe your shelves are just gettin' old…"
"Nevertheless, I've been instructed to assist you for the rest of your stay this evening," he said, "Perhaps together we can keep the building from falling apart and avoid making any more mess…"
Sonic sighed, shrugging his shoulders, "Whatever you say, Snives, you're the hourly-wage middle-manager…"
With a grimace, Snively merely motioned for the hedgehog to continue on his way, cursing the day he'd been reduced to a babysitter of teenagers.
"Here's your stupid cheese," the tank-shaped robot said huffily, pushing the plastic-wrapped parcel at Knuckles. It was obligatory to wish all customers 'good day' but Grounder didn't feel compelled to do so at the moment.
"Now really, was that so difficult?"
The droid rolled away on his trends, no longer interested in interacting with the humanoid.
"Customer service…gotta love it," the echidna sighed, turning away from the counter, putting one hand up to his mouth, "Yo, Sonic!" he called loudly over the empty aisles, "You done yet?"
"Almost!" Sonic shouted back, leaping up on top of one of the elongated shelves, scanning the store from his elevated perch for the source of his best friend's voice, "You get the deli stuff?"
"Took forever, but yeah!" Knuckles called, making his way towards his friend. As he entered the aisle, he snickered at the sight of Snively, arms laden with the hedgehog's selections, having a minor conniption as he ordered the teen to return to the floor.
"Geez, keep your pants on, Snives," Sonic laughed, hopping back down to the ground.
"Honestly, the service in this place," the echidna grinned, "What ever happened to 'the customer is always right'?"
"Unprofitable," Snively sneered, glaring coldly, "Will there be anything else,sirs, or shall you be checking out now?"
"I think we're good," Knuckles answered, glancing at Sonic, "We good?"
"Yeah, that should be good," the blue hedgehog nodded, "After you, Snives," he continued, gesturing mockingly for the human to lead the way.
Glaring down his nose at the pair of them ('Disrespectful hooligans!'), he marched off towards the front of the store.
"Paper or plastic, sirs?" A more modern (though still somewhat strange) robot, identified as 'Decoe' on his tiny, bronze-colored nametag, inquired, the numerous boxes and assorted food items sliding down the rickety conveyor belt.
"Let's go with both," Sonic answered, "And let's stuff 'em as full as they can get – the less I gotta carry the better."
"Certainly, sir," the bot replied, his tone civil and appeasing. It began to ring up his items one at a time, carefully placing the various food products into bags, its computer 'brain' calculating the maximum efficiency for arranging the parcels into the fewest amount of bags, while also considering the strength of the bag.
Knuckles tapped a glove hand against the counter, checking his watch. 10:50 PM. Ten minutes…
Setting the third and final sack down next to the first two, Decoe turned to Sonic, "$27.88 is your total, sir."
"Hey Knux," the hedgehog said, "Can I borrow, like, $30?"
Aghast, the echidna merely spluttered incoherently for a moment, before his eyes narrowed and he pulled his wallet out of his back pocket. "You owe me big time," he growled as he handed over the bills.
"Don't worry, Uncle Chuck's good for it," Sonic replied, waving a hand dismissively at his friend as he handed over the cash to the robot.
Decoe opened his chest, placed the cash inside while calculating the change in his electronic brain, then doled it out accordingly, offering the small amount to the echidna, bypassing Sonic's outstretched hand. "Have a good night, sirs."
"Thanks," the hedgehog grumbled as he picked up the bags, "Snives, it's been real."
"As always…" the human drawled.
"How come ya keep looking at your watch? We've still got time, don't we?" Sonic asked, raising an eye-ridge at his friend, shifting the bags around in his arms as the pair exited the store.
"Little more than five minutes, yeah…" Knuckles said, stuffing his hands in his pockets to keep from fidgeting.
"Well, if you don't mind piggy-back, I could get us there in about five seconds…"
"Works for me," he shrugged, wrapping his arms around his friend's neck from behind, "Let's go."
Sonic winced mockingly, "Damn, man, what've you been eating?"
"Shut up!"
Laughing, Sonic sped off, leaving only dust and the fading image of a blue blur in his wake.
"Night man! See ya tomorrow! And don't worry, I'll have money for ya!"
"You'd better!" Knuckles yelled back, cupping his mouth with one hand to make certain he would be heard.
Sonic merely waved with one hand (the appendage carrying only one bag) as he trotted up the steps to his house, disappearing behind the door a second later.
Turning towards his house, the echidna was halfway up the walk when he froze in his tracks. His father's sleek, black car was sitting in the driveway, almost blending in to the night atmosphere but for the glint of moonlight on its sharp edges. 'Shit…' The lights weren't on in the house, though. 'Please let him have gone to bed…'
He opened the door carefully, the faint moonlight vertically stretching his shadow against the bare carpet. Closing the door quietly behind him, Knuckles stood just in front of the door for a moment, allowing his eyes to adjust to the sudden darkness, his heart thumping noisily within his chest.
Ever thankful for the house being carpeted, he made his first few tentative steps towards the stairs, aware of how very loudly he seemed to be breathing.
His hand had just touched the railing of the stairway, when a voice much like his (albeit a bit deeper) reached his ears, "Knuckles!"
He cringed. 'Perfect.' Spinning on his heel slowly, he trudged to the doorway of his father's study. "Yes, sir?"
Locke closed his laptop, then stood from his seat, the moonlight pouring in through the window shrouding most of his frontal features, "You mind telling me how the hell a set of footprints leading up to your room got plastered to the wall outside?" No pleasantries, no small talk…
Knuckles hesitated, biting his bottom lip as he wracked his brain for something –anything that might qualify as a reasonable explanation.
The elder echidna took a step forward, bringing his right hand up to backhand his son across the face, "I asked you a question…" he growled, frowning down at his lone offspring.
Bottom lip now bleeding (having bitten down on it too hard on impact) Knuckles turned his gaze up to meet his father's icy glare. "Sonic decided to pay me a visit before school this morning," he stated, voice as even as he could force it.
Casually, Locke removed his gloves (he'd have to wash this pair before the bit of blood that had clung to it stained), "I want it cleaned up this weekend, understood?"
"Yes sir."
The other turned away from his son, returning to his seat and opening up his laptop once again, his business with Knuckles concluded.
Sucking on his cut, the teen turned and skulked from the room. As he made his way up the stairs, his bitterness began showing itself as he let his feet fall down heavier and heavier upon each one.
"BOY!"
'Fuck…' It was all he could do not to slam his bedroom door as hard as he possibly could.
TBC...
