Guest: Ahaha, thanks xD. I'll never understand how people can not think about the different characteristics of the 'anthro' characters. I swear, every time someone writes about Sonic's 'chiseled jaw' I die a little inside. Dude doesn't even have a chin!

Chapter 4: Broomstick

Sonic blinked his eyes open, the world an undefined smear. Something was wrong here. It was cold. Frickin' glacial. And his arms and shoulders felt like a bear had slept on them for three nights straight.

…Wait a second. Why were his feet dangling in the air? And why was it so frickin' loud? Sonic sobered up in an instant.

His arms were stretched out above him, wrists strangled by the rope they'd used to tie him up with. It had somehow caught in one of the float's clamps and apparently dragged him along when they took off. He could still see the island in the distance below. A small speck of land surrounded by endless ocean.

He was off.

…Not exactly as planned, but hey, no time to get picky.

Sonic tried to move his fingers, wind whipping around him. They felt thick like sausages, burning inside but freezing on the outside. If he kept hanging like this, they'd probably die off halfway to whatever destination those guys were heading for.

Above him, the stretch of rope was just long enough for him to have gotten a proper dunk in the water, which meant it was just long enough for his fingers to barely reach the underside of the float with nothing to hold on to. How the heck was he going to pull himself up like this?

At least he'd dropped in between the two floats. Otherwise the two alien guys up there would've long noticed him by now.

Sonic stretched one tied-up hand out, barely getting his swollen fingers around the rope. It was probably better if he tried to get his legs up instead. What was that part about daily chin-ups again? Sonic balled his fists and pulled himself up with sizzling arms until his nose was above wrist level, resisting the impulse to make his way hand over teeth along the rope. Instead, he curled his legs in then pointed them skyward while having to straighten his elbows again, interlocking his feet with the rope and feeling his hands begin to throb from the decrease in strain on his wrist. Now he just had to kind of climb up the rope upside down. Piece of cake.

…He really wasn't an arms kinda guy.

Some grunting moments later he clung to one of the struts connecting the floats to the hull of the plane. He carefully crawled across to the float's surface, finally laying somewhat safely on his stomach, panting. His arms and hands stung and prickled as blood flowed back into them.

Sonic dragged himself into a sitting position, clamping his legs to both sides of the float, and letting the wind freely blast into his face for a moment. For some reason it never irritated him when he ran himself, but it always took him a bit getting used to when he rode the Tornado or some other vehicle. He knew it had to do with his Flow. But it was the kind of stuff he didn't question as long as it worked.

He unhooked the rope, curling his fingers. Then he reached into his pockets, feeling as if he wore seven pairs of gloves at once. He managed to produce the knife and fumbled it open, then carefully dragged it across the rope between his wrists using both hands. For once, he had to try and be patient. Sonic bit his lip.

Finally, his hands were free and the rope drifted off into the distance. Sonic rolled his shoulders, repeatedly clenching and unclenching his fists. Blood flow. Nice having it. When his limbs felt vaguely normal again, his attention automatically went to other parts of his body. It was cold up here, and his pants, shoes, and gloves were still damp from his dive into the water. They'd dry up at some point, but he couldn't exactly do some kind of warm-up workout now. Also, it was loud. As long as there wasn't any land in sight, it was probably a good idea to try and get into that plane for a while.

Sonic got up. The hatch was on the other side, but the struts connecting the floats were good enough to climb across. Heights turned out to be far less of an issue than depths in his experience…

On the other side, the baggage hatch had its hinges at the top. A bunch of fixed metal steps lead up to it which was a good thing, because he had no idea how he would've been able to reach the damn handle otherwise. Sonic climbed the steps, twisting and pulling at the handle until he was sure he'd unlocked the door, but the air pressure was keeping it shut, of course.

He stemmed his feet against the plane's side, pulling at the handle and risking a glance towards the front of the plane. If those guys had noticed him by now, they either didn't care or didn't know what to do. He'd notice early enough anyway.

There was a faint smack when the door finally budged. Then the wind rushed into the gap and slammed the hatch open, flinging Sonic upwards and above the plane. He squeezed the handle in a frickin' death grip.

The plane made a sudden dip and he hovered above its roof for a moment before smacking right back into it when the plane came back on track. Sonic groaned, dragging himself towards the opening wailing in the airstream. A moment later he stood inside the cargo and felt as if his body was heating up from the sudden lack of wind.

…Unfortunately, being in here did nothing for the frickin' noise, and he had no idea how he was supposed to get that hatch closed now without risking getting some part of his caught in it. Unless…

Sonic scanned the luggage. One of the large bags had a long strap he could clip off and probably draw the hatch in with. He crammed into the opening and fixed it to the inside handle, pulling and backing off when the hatch slammed close again.

The sudden silence was like a weight lifting off his ears. The sudden darkness—

—Sonic rubbed his face with a groan. "Enjoy your ride, genius…"

#

Sonic's eyes were still busy adjusting to the darkness, and the drone of the plane wasn't dulled as much as he'd initially thought. Closing the hatch felt like an increasingly bad idea, but he wasn't going to open the thing up again before he hadn't gotten at least somewhat warm in here (and maybe found something to plug his ears…).

He felt his way to the wall that separated the back from the front of the plane and pressed one ear against it, trying to pick up anything from the guys up front. They sounded as if they were having a discussion.

—Well, if any one of them decided to be crazy enough to climb to the back of the plane and try to throw him out, this time Sonic would use his sneakers for communication first. Couldn't hurt to rest up until then, though.

He groped his way across the two bags that he knew were strapped to the cargo floor. Their contents seemed to be mostly soft stuff so he stretched out across both of them and allowed his muscles to relax. A sudden exhaustion came over him and he let his eyes fall close, drifting off into sleep.

#

Sonic sat up again, rubbing his arms in the dark. He had no idea how much time had passed, but now he'd apparently had enough rest to realize how sore he was, and how cold he still felt despite having dried clothes by now. He wasn't used to feeling cold. Not with the amount of exercise he usually had, anyway. But then he also wasn't used to feeling hungry most of the time, so this was probably the point at which his current diet was starting to take its toll. He grimaced.

Not exactly top conditions.

Today had actually been the first day he'd managed to eat something other than fruit or nuts. He'd caught a whole of three fish using a pathetic, broken-off branch that barely gave him enough space between himself and the stream's water, because fish, for some unfair reason, were the only animals he at this point could bear to kill. And he didn't even like fish. They'd still made for a much better meal than whatever he'd had before, but it apparently wasn't enough to make up for a week of eating garbage (or eating garbage backwards…).

At least he'd been smart enough to remove his gloves before taking the fish out. …Could've used that knife earlier.

By now he'd gotten somewhat used to the cargo's darkness. He could recognize the wall that separated him from the rest of the plane by a faintly glowing line around its edges. But that was about it. He'd have to keep feeling around if he didn't want to open the hatch again.

Didn't those guys have drinks earlier? Maybe they'd brought other foodstuffs as well. Sonic began rummaging through the bags.

#

Alright. So far he'd found a large piece of fabric that was probably a bed-sheet, a bunch of what appeared to be used towels, a couple of cases of various sizes (which unfortunately only had what felt like tools in them, not food…), a handful of bottles with sharp-edged lids he couldn't open, and a few glossy feeling, bound stacks of paper that were most likely magazines. It was kind of frustrating.

Sonic stuffed most of the stuff back into the bags (if only to have his padding back) and sat down on them, huddling into the bed-sheet he'd extracted. He was still a bit cold. But now he was also bored. How long was this flight gonna take?

He shuffled into a lying position, feeling something tug at the fabric then thunk to the floor. Sonic sat up again and began fumbling until he found a longish and somewhat heavy object with a slightly wider end. It fit well inside his hand and there was a knob beneath his thumb. He pressed, then barely bit off a yelp when the light hit his eyes. He scrunched them shut with a groan.

A torch.

Sonic aimed the torch someplace else and carefully blinked his eyes open. In this light the cargo looked tiny, and he only now realized how humongous the fabric was that he'd draped around himself. He shoved the stuff aside and dug into the bags again, taking out the stack of what he thought were magazines. He tossed them aside and made himself comfortable, then picked one at random. It had a shiny cover showing four angular letters and a close-up of a face—no doubt of the same kind of alien as the ones piloting the plane. His first thought was that it looked like a female, but then he wasn't so sure anymore.

Sonic slowly opened the cover. The first two pages had a bit of illegible text that looked as if it was upside down, then came a picture of some guy that, judging by his relaxed pose, had to be an advert, and then came what looked like the first page of actual content—a bunch of text with seemingly random images to the side. Sonic started flipping through the pages.

At first glance everything looked familiar: There were some animals on one photo, a bunch of dolls on another, and a factory on the next. But then he reminded himself that he was on an alien planet and everything got weird. What if those animals weren't feral. What if those dolls were actually running a theater, and what if that factory was really a kind of apartment house? Sonic let the hand holding the torch drop into his lap and groaned. After a moment, he held it up again and browsed some more.

What he learned from the magazines was strangely useless. They had cars and planes, they had homes and cities, and every one of them seemed to wear more clothes all at once than he even owned (not counting shoes, anyway…). It was probably a good thing he hadn't already ditched his pants on the island.

But he'd expected something else from being on another planet of all places.

The only thing that actually felt alien was that there really seemed to be only one sentient species on this planet (that, or he'd somehow managed to pick the most exclusionary magazine in history). It was gonna make things difficult.

#

The torch had gone out some time during filing through the last magazine, freaking him out a bit. He didn't care that it was dark again (he could just go and open the hatch anyway), but if the lamp undercharged they were probably still reeeally far from the mainland. He'd sort of been prepared for a long flight—at some point it had dawned on him that the noise of the plane could only mean it had the kind of fuel-driven engine used for long-range or high-altitude flights, but that still didn't mean they had to fly for long, too. Hopefully it was just the lamp's chaos drive getting old…

He settled back into the pile of bed-sheet and closed his eyes. Nothing like making time pass more quickly than falling asleep for a while.

…Nothing like making time pass more slowly, however, than having your mind run on overdrive while trying.

Those magazines got him thinking. …Not that he hadn't thought about his current situation before, but up until now he'd done a good job repressing any stupid thought before it had the chance of putting him into a foul mood. Being in a place with a weird moon, strange fruit, and odd looking animals had apparently only been enough to make him acknowledge ending up on another planet. Now that he'd actually seen some of the people living here, everything felt much more tangible all of a sudden. And now the magazines…

He was on another planet.

For real.

Damn.

From what he'd seen in the magazines the people here seemed to be about as advanced as he was used to from home, which was good. But that also meant they weren't the 'casual trip through space' kind of advanced, which meant a Star Post was probably still the only way for him to get back home. What if the one on the island had been the only one around? Was he gonna be stuck twice over when they finally reached the mainland or wherever? Heck, he couldn't even talk to those guys.

Sonic rubbed his face with a groan. It was stupid and useless to worry about these things when there was nothing he could change. He'd have to figure stuff out when it happened. As usual.

He absently pulled out the now battered candy wrapper he still had in his pocket and twisted it between his fingers. Only one of the mints was left. It had probably gotten wet and sticky when he fell into the water earlier, but he was sure he could still peel the paper off. …Only now he wasn't so sure if he even wanted to. He'd carried it around like this for three days now and somehow couldn't bring himself to eat the last piece. Every time he held the wrapping in his hands he felt as if he was about to cut off the only bond he still had with home. It just didn't seem right. Also, it seemed way too early for actually feeling like this.

He wasn't supposed to get sentimental over a piece of candy.

He tucked the wrapper back into his pocket and rolled himself into the blanket. This wasn't helping anything. Instead, he had to get some more sleep out of the first spot in a week that almost classified as a bed.

#

Sonic's stomach lurched, pulling him out of a doze. It was a familiar feeling. In fact, it was an awesome feeling. It meant that the plane was descending.

The plane dropped again and Sonic's stomach with it until the motion became too steady to tell whether they actually descended anymore. Moments later the plane hit ground and shook along an uneven path until it slowed down to a crawl. They seemed to maneuver carefully for a while, then abruptly came to a halt. Finally, the constant roar of the engine died down and Sonic's ears filled with the white noise of silence.

Out. He needed to get out before those guys decided to lock the hatch from outside or something. They couldn't not have figured out he was here. Sonic groped his way towards the hatch.

From the front came a muffled exchange, then the plane swayed a bit as the two guys apparently climbed onto the float. One of them seemed to walk along it and towards Sonic's hatch. Sonic hesitated and pricked his ears only to instantly interrupt himself again. No wasting time now. Those guys knew he was here.

He unlocked the hatch and pushed it open, swinging it hard against the plane's hull and bracing himself for the light from outside—but nothing came. The sun had already set and he was looking at an enormous lake surrounded by city lights. A waft of crisp but still sticky air engulfed him, as if it had been a warm day in an already cool season. It smelled like a strange mix of seaweed and… rust?

The two guys that brought him here stood at the edge of the jetty and had frozen mid-mooring the plane, apparently exclusively to stare at him.

»Oh shit, you were right!« Shirt jolted into motion. He jumped on top of the float, arms reaching for the open hatch.

"Oh, no. No way, man. You had your chance." Sonic kicked himself off the hatch's rim before the guy could block the entrance, and leaped across the float towards the jetty hands first. He landed in a roll and got to his feet again in one smooth motion, then he took a moment to stretch the remains of cargo-induced stiffness out of his system. Shirt stood beside the hatch and let his arms drop, sharing a look with Cap.

The jetty was broad, straight, and much shorter than the one on the island. It ended in a couple of steps leading up to a tall wicket gate halfway swallowed by lakeside shrubbery. A box-shaped building peeked out behind it and it sounded as if there was a road nearby. Sonic wouldn't have much trouble getting across that thing—not even with Cap standing between him in the middle of the jetty, answering Shirt's look with a shrug. Cap held one of the ropes in one hand and some kind of silver contraption in the other that might or might not've been a phone.

»Yo. Master moorer. Any suggestions?« came Shirt's voice from the float. The guy had apparently decided not to make another attempt at grabbing Sonic (not that Sonic would've given him another chance…) but he still stood there in a lowered stance now, ready for anything.

»Well.« Cap shifted the phone in his fingers, adopting a kind of goalkeeper stance himself. »The thing could've waited with breaking out until after I've called Eff. Now, I guess, we'll have to try and catch it again, because someone had decided that attacking the thing was the best first thing to do and it's probably gonna stay hostile no matter what we do.« His eyes briefly glowered towards Shirt who let out a groan in response.

Sonic stood a bit straighter and rolled his shoulders. He was in a much better spot than he was back on the island. There was still water pretty much everywhere around him, alright, but the jetty was wider, and he had a good distance to the two guys. If he timed it right, he could knock over Cap with a momentum-kick before Shirt even had time to react, and then just scale the fence and be gone.

…Then again he could also just get behind both by skipping over the plane.

Yeah. That'd do.

"Well, it's been long enough guys," he said. "Guess I'll see ya again in case I need a ride back." He gave them a sloppy salute, then dashed forward and towards the plane again. He kicked himself off of its side, rolled across the wing and came back down in a jog behind Cap, that carried him right towards the gate. The guy spun with a startle, and Sonic crossed the gate in an eye-blink.

Shirt stared at the sky in defeat. »You could've at least taken a picture, you moron.«

#

Sonic made it to the top of a tall, flat-roofed building. It stood a bit uphill but still close to the lake with only a broad road and a steep incline in-between. From here, he could still make out the small air harbor he'd come from, but it was far from the only spot where boats and planes docked along the lake's shore. With all the lights in the distance he couldn't even make out the edges of the city he'd ended up at. It seemed to spread forever across the surrounding hills in each direction. If he'd gotten here during the day, he probably would've had trouble even crossing the road below without sticking out like a bald spot.

Sonic pulled out a narrow flyer he'd snatched from a stash by the air harbor's building. It had mostly text on it, and only a small picture of a plane told him it had anything to do with the place at all. If he ever needed to get back there for some reason, though, he at least had something to wave in front of people's noses. Hey, he could think ahead sometimes.

For now, though, there didn't seem all that much he had to figure out. As long as he managed to find something to eat and drink around here, he'd be good to go for anything that came up—at least until the weather got bad. If his hunch was right, it was probably early fall right now (provided this planet had the same seasons). But then, actually, he could also worry about that some other time. Or, better yet: never. Because he was going to find the heck out of those Star Posts and go back home before the weather even became an issue. He just needed an idea of where to start…

On Mobius, he just occasionally happened to come across the odd Star Post, but he'd never bothered to think about their surroundings. He'd heard somewhere that they mostly stood in remote locations, but he'd seen so many of them right in the middle of cities and towns that he didn't really know what he was supposed to look for. It meant he could find one of those pretty much anywhere and nowhere. And then he also had to get lucky catching an active one in the first place.

Sonic put the flyer back into his pockets and grumbled. Being in a foreign place with no map was supposed to feel exciting, not daunting.

Behind him, the roofs of numerous similar looking houses stretched into the night. It looked a whole lot like an area where people lived—not some work or industrial zone. Some still had their lights on, and from one of the closer houses' windows came a faint flicker.

Sonic made it to the edge of the roof and climbed downwards. It wasn't as if he had anything more pressing to do (aside from that one particular pressing matter after sitting in a cargo for, like, forever), so he could just as well check out what was behind that window. Gotta start somewhere.

#

Sonic swung himself across a garden fence and onto a stone paved pathway leading past the side of a home. It seemed to end in a stuffed but orderly backyard surrounded by a tall hedge. He didn't need to go that far back though. The window in question was by the side of the house, still emanating the same soft flicker. Below stood a longish wooden table that—wait… No. Sonic crossed his arms and raised an eye-ridge.

It was a bench.

And he had to climb on top it to even get a look through the window.

"Really, guys," he muttered, shaking his head. "Do you have to be this tall…?"

Sonic climbed on top of the creaking bench and took a peek inside. He'd already half expected to find a running TV in there, but it was still a strange thing to look at. It was needlessly bulky and stood inside a massive wall unit. Left and right, doors lead out of the semi-dark living room that only had one person inside. She—he assumed for some reason—had her back to him, comfortably slumped into a couch with her feet on the table in front.

The show on TV was about people in a hospital or something. He had no idea what those guys were doing exactly, but they spent a whole lot of time eating when they weren't out doctoring. Talk about genius timing.

And they all kinda looked the same—aside from a couple of color variations, anyway—which was just plain weird. Also, everything else looked so utterly normal, he couldn't decide if he found it comforting or unsettling.

…Or disappointing. He was supposed to be on an alien planet, for Chaos' sake. They better had some flying cars lying around.

The woman behind the window turned and Sonic ducked beneath the sill out of reflex. He poised there for a moment, and when nothing else happened, rolled off the bench and snuck into the backyard. The sight of a bunch of fur-less people eating and drinking on TV hadn't been the best way to remind him that he hadn't even had so much as a drink since he'd left the island. If this world really was as ordinary as it appeared, though, he was pretty sure he'd find at least a faucet back there.

He stepped lightly through a patch of tall noodly plants that had several fist-sized fruit hanging from them. Sonic picked one that had a firm smooth surface and didn't look like anything he'd seen on the island. It couldn't be that bad if those guys had it in their garden, though. He was about to take a bite, then hesitated, glancing at the house's dark backdoor. Normally he'd just knock and ask in such a situation—

Or, well, normally he'd just go and buy something at the next food stop. But this wasn't 'normally', and if he knocked on their door now he'd probably just earn a kick to the butt with no way to explain himself. He'd rather have something to eat first.

Sonic bit into the fruit. It turned out to be hollow inside, looking a bit like an oversized chili—only not as spicy and otherwise pretty watery. But it was still perfectly perfect, because it wasn't a frickin' fruit but a vegetable, and he hadn't had one of those in ages.

Sonic picked one of the smaller but even juicier vegetables next and ate until he'd reached an uncomfortable state between feeling stuffed and still feeling hungry. He'd probably be fine for a while, but he doubted he could exert himself much.

Next to the patch he found what he was initially looking for: A bent pipe with a valve, sprouting from the ground. He crouched down and twisted it, summoning up a hollow whine followed by water gushing out at the volume of a waterfall. He hurriedly twisted it shut again and paused for a moment, grimacing. When nothing happened, he turned the faucet on again more gently and took the time to drink and rinse his hands. If this turned out to be standard garden equipment, he could strike off water from the list of his worries.

Sonic got back to his feet and stretched himself, feeling another bout of exhaustion catch up with him. His gaze was drawn to a small shed with only three walls standing in one corner of the garden. Inside, some sort of canopy swing with a thickly padded seat stood between the clutter. Sonic took a deep breath.

Even after a week on the island, he didn't actually mind sleeping outside—on trees, on roofs, or just out in the grass. He was fine with that. He frequently did so on Mobius anyway. But the idea of sleeping on the padded seat of this particular suspended bench made his feet walk on autopilot. He pushed himself up onto the bench and rolled on his back, feeling his quills relax and his tired muscles melt into the slightly musty padding.

"Sweet Chaos… if these guys wake me before morning, I'll… kick their shins or something…"

He was out the moment he closed his eyes.

#

There was pressure in his side—a somewhat rhythmic poking. Something was making strange noises, too, and Sonic rolled over trying to find a better position. Then a rough, strawy thing landed in his face and he jerked awake, frantically pushing it aside. The bench shifted from his sudden movement and he tumbled to the paved ground with a yelp. Beside him were the slipper-clad feet of a particularly hairless person.

"What the—!?" He got another strawy slap to the face.

»Shoo!«

Sonic had a moment to look into the wrinkly face of a curly-haired woman before another swing of broom came his way. This time he dodged.

"Hey! Will you cut it out and listen for a—"

The woman swung again. »Get out of my garden you… creature, you!«

Sonic scrambled up the side of the garden shack then leaped off of it onto the roof above the backdoor. Someone came out below.

»Gran, what's up?« she said.

It was the one from the night before. A brown-haired (now somewhat tousled looking) woman in a gown, who seemed a whole lot younger than the one currently pointing at him.

»This,« the elder said with indignation in her voice, »was in my shed.« The younger one glanced up at where she pointed. Sonic resisted the urge to shrug and quip at them. It was pointless anyway.

»You're kidding…,« she said.

They both stared at him for a moment and he couldn't help but stare back. Then the younger one sped back inside and came out holding a bulky something to her ear that seemed to work suspiciously like a phone.

Well, whatever. He wasn't going to be around for long anyway.

Sonic moved a few steps up the roof and only now noticed how high up the neighborhood really was. From here he saw a sea of roofs slowly disappear into a sheet of morning mist the further the hill descended, only to ascend again at the city center, where massive skyscrapers rose above the mist and gleamed in the early sun's rays. Sonic whistled softly. Now that looked more like something worthy of an alien planet. This wasn't the kind of skyline he was used to—not on Westside Island anyway. Unless you were really far into the mainland it seemed to be way too much of a bother having crazy-high skyscrapers everywhere. You'd have to make room for soil and plants on every other level, just to get all the chaos-driven electronics to work on the upper floors. It did look cool when it was done, and it worked fine for the most part, but living in such a monstrosity wasn't particularly popular for some reason. So, either he was really far into the mainland right now or those guys had found a better solution how to get their chaos energy out of the ground—or they just didn't care.

The tone below had become just a little bit desperate. »No, I'm perfectly sure someone did not dye their cat blue.« A pause. »No, I'm not ›under the influence of a controlled substance‹.«

The elder readjusted her grip on the broom, then had to tear her eyes off of Sonic when the younger shoved the phone into her line of sight. »Here, hold on to those guys for a moment!« She ran back inside as soon as the elder took it.

On a balcony across the road, a similarly clothed man shuffled into the sun-rays, shielding his eyes. He looked about to call something, but stopped dead the moment his eyes met Sonic's.

The younger woman came back with a greyish box in her hands, pushing various buttons and lighting up a small screen. She pointed it towards Sonic.

Sonic straightened up. That one was a camera now. But he hadn't learned nearly enough about this place to be comfortable ending up on a photo, already. "Oh, hey, pictures are nice and all," he called. "But I got a city to check out. So, see ya!"

He slid down to the edge of the roof, then jumped back on top of the little shack and through the branches of a small tree towards the next backyard. The voices behind him became slightly frantic, putting a grin on his face. Apparently, the kind of background noise he was used to when running through backyards and across rooftops was language-independent.