Psionic the Hedgehog - Part III
By Shariq Ansari aka DarkeSword
Comments? Email me at darkesword@exphyl.com
* * * * *
The south side of the volcano was nearly full vertical; a massive igneous slab
smoothed out over thousands of years. It was a grayish black color, the color
of long cooled lava. No lava had flowed out of this volcano for thousands of
years. How could it? This island had been disconnected from the crust of the
planet for millenia on end.
Knives the Echidna was thinking about this, and many other things, as he climbed
the south side, thrusting his two specially carved climbing knives into the side
of the dormant volcano. Climbing helped Knives think. He had been alone ever
since his parents had died.
The entire Echidna civilization had mysteriously disappeared long ago, and his
four grandparents had been the only surviving members of the noble species.
Four teenagers with, inexplicably, no recollection of how the Echidnas had
disappeared, only that something terrible had taken them from their families,
their friends, their world.
What it must have been like to lose that, thought Knives. I felt tremendous
loss when Mother and Father died, but we lived alone our whole lives. To be
taken from your lives, from society. To see your homes and cities completely
empty.
A chill ran up Knives' spine, and he started to climb faster. His knives were
sliding into the igneous rock as if it were butter. He had carved these knives
himself from that strange gold metal that was all around the island. His
grandparents had found small gold-colored rings everywhere after the Echidnas
disappeared, and they had found that when melted, they made an excellent
material that could be used for mostly anything.
Knives reached the top of the volcano and stood on the edge. He could see the
entire north side of the island from here. He sighed. I never get enough of
this view, he thought. He walked to the inner edge of the volcano and peered
in. There was a whirlpool raging inside. Knives often came up hear to listen
to the roar of the water, to feel its power. He sat back on the top of the
dormant volcano and relaxed.
But after a while, Knives began to hear a faint whirring sound in the
distance...the high pitched whine of an engine. He looked up and saw, in the
distance, a strange kind of mechanical bird-thing. It was descending much too
quickly; he could tell that even from here. He stood up and looked out. What
is that? he thought.
The whirring was much louder now, and he could see smoke coming from the tail.
The bird was basically falling at this point, and then, with a distant thump, it
went down in the trees.
Knives eyes widened. "I'd better check this out," he said. He put his knives
in their sheathes, jumped from the top of the volcano, and began to glide
towards the crash site.
* * * * *
Psionic woke with a start and felt a peculiar falling sensation. Only when he
hit the ground did he realize that he had been falling. He lay on the ground
for a moment, trying to think of something appropriate to say.
"Ouch."
He stood up, rubbing his bottom, and looked around to see where he was. He
seemed to be in a clearing in a forest. There were trees everywhere, and he
could hear a waterfall in the distance. The ground was covered with all kinds
of flowers, and everywhere he looked, he saw green.
Psionic looked himself over, making sure nothing was broken. Luckily, only his
cloak was torn. He ran his hand through his spines and sighed as he checked his
pouches, making sure nothing was gone or broken. Everything's alright, he
thought.
But there was still a nagging feeling in the back of his mind, as though
something or someone was missing. He looked up and squinted; the sun was
bright. Sheilding his eyes, he gasped.
The Tornado II was stuck in a very high tree--or rather, it had become a part of
the tree. The entire plane was mangled nearly beyond recognition. Psionic's
eyes widened, and a single thought worked its way from his mind to his lips.
"TALES!"
He rocketed upwards, using his psychic ability to accentuate the strength of his
jump. He kicked off of a few trees and continued to work his way towards the
wreck. He already knew she wasn't there; he hadn't been able to sense her
presence, but he had to make sure. He wanted to see with his eyes.
Once he reached the wreak, a quick feeling of relief passed through him. He
couldn't see any blood anywhere. Floating there in the air, he peered into the
cockpit and saw something on the floor. He reached in and picked it up. They
were Tales' glasses. The lenses were broken, and the frames were bent.
Psionic began to descend slowly, holding the glasses. His eyes lit up and began
to glow a deep purple. He was using the psychic-chaos field to see if he could
locate Tales. He found something very faint; she was alive, but she wasn't
concious, so he couldn't tell if she was hurt.
He also felt the presence of someone else with her. There was a feeling of
tranquility mixed with concern within this person. Psionic wasn't worried for
Tales. He could feel that she was in good hands. Now he just had to find her.
He touched down on the ground and put the broken glasses in a pocket in his
cloak. Tales' presence was in the same direction as the noise from the
waterfall, so Psionic started to walk towards the sound of the rushing water.
He was at the edge of the clearing when a frightening realization overtook him.
Looking back at the wreakage in the tree, he tried not to think about what Espio
would do to him.
By Shariq Ansari aka DarkeSword
Comments? Email me at darkesword@exphyl.com
* * * * *
The south side of the volcano was nearly full vertical; a massive igneous slab
smoothed out over thousands of years. It was a grayish black color, the color
of long cooled lava. No lava had flowed out of this volcano for thousands of
years. How could it? This island had been disconnected from the crust of the
planet for millenia on end.
Knives the Echidna was thinking about this, and many other things, as he climbed
the south side, thrusting his two specially carved climbing knives into the side
of the dormant volcano. Climbing helped Knives think. He had been alone ever
since his parents had died.
The entire Echidna civilization had mysteriously disappeared long ago, and his
four grandparents had been the only surviving members of the noble species.
Four teenagers with, inexplicably, no recollection of how the Echidnas had
disappeared, only that something terrible had taken them from their families,
their friends, their world.
What it must have been like to lose that, thought Knives. I felt tremendous
loss when Mother and Father died, but we lived alone our whole lives. To be
taken from your lives, from society. To see your homes and cities completely
empty.
A chill ran up Knives' spine, and he started to climb faster. His knives were
sliding into the igneous rock as if it were butter. He had carved these knives
himself from that strange gold metal that was all around the island. His
grandparents had found small gold-colored rings everywhere after the Echidnas
disappeared, and they had found that when melted, they made an excellent
material that could be used for mostly anything.
Knives reached the top of the volcano and stood on the edge. He could see the
entire north side of the island from here. He sighed. I never get enough of
this view, he thought. He walked to the inner edge of the volcano and peered
in. There was a whirlpool raging inside. Knives often came up hear to listen
to the roar of the water, to feel its power. He sat back on the top of the
dormant volcano and relaxed.
But after a while, Knives began to hear a faint whirring sound in the
distance...the high pitched whine of an engine. He looked up and saw, in the
distance, a strange kind of mechanical bird-thing. It was descending much too
quickly; he could tell that even from here. He stood up and looked out. What
is that? he thought.
The whirring was much louder now, and he could see smoke coming from the tail.
The bird was basically falling at this point, and then, with a distant thump, it
went down in the trees.
Knives eyes widened. "I'd better check this out," he said. He put his knives
in their sheathes, jumped from the top of the volcano, and began to glide
towards the crash site.
* * * * *
Psionic woke with a start and felt a peculiar falling sensation. Only when he
hit the ground did he realize that he had been falling. He lay on the ground
for a moment, trying to think of something appropriate to say.
"Ouch."
He stood up, rubbing his bottom, and looked around to see where he was. He
seemed to be in a clearing in a forest. There were trees everywhere, and he
could hear a waterfall in the distance. The ground was covered with all kinds
of flowers, and everywhere he looked, he saw green.
Psionic looked himself over, making sure nothing was broken. Luckily, only his
cloak was torn. He ran his hand through his spines and sighed as he checked his
pouches, making sure nothing was gone or broken. Everything's alright, he
thought.
But there was still a nagging feeling in the back of his mind, as though
something or someone was missing. He looked up and squinted; the sun was
bright. Sheilding his eyes, he gasped.
The Tornado II was stuck in a very high tree--or rather, it had become a part of
the tree. The entire plane was mangled nearly beyond recognition. Psionic's
eyes widened, and a single thought worked its way from his mind to his lips.
"TALES!"
He rocketed upwards, using his psychic ability to accentuate the strength of his
jump. He kicked off of a few trees and continued to work his way towards the
wreck. He already knew she wasn't there; he hadn't been able to sense her
presence, but he had to make sure. He wanted to see with his eyes.
Once he reached the wreak, a quick feeling of relief passed through him. He
couldn't see any blood anywhere. Floating there in the air, he peered into the
cockpit and saw something on the floor. He reached in and picked it up. They
were Tales' glasses. The lenses were broken, and the frames were bent.
Psionic began to descend slowly, holding the glasses. His eyes lit up and began
to glow a deep purple. He was using the psychic-chaos field to see if he could
locate Tales. He found something very faint; she was alive, but she wasn't
concious, so he couldn't tell if she was hurt.
He also felt the presence of someone else with her. There was a feeling of
tranquility mixed with concern within this person. Psionic wasn't worried for
Tales. He could feel that she was in good hands. Now he just had to find her.
He touched down on the ground and put the broken glasses in a pocket in his
cloak. Tales' presence was in the same direction as the noise from the
waterfall, so Psionic started to walk towards the sound of the rushing water.
He was at the edge of the clearing when a frightening realization overtook him.
Looking back at the wreakage in the tree, he tried not to think about what Espio
would do to him.