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THE DAY AFTER
8. That Robotnik vibe.
[SONIC, Stephen Zacharus]
"Hey, Hedgehog—you gonna come get your mail or what?"
"Hey, asshole—could you be any less fucking polite?"
The guard glares at me through the bars of my cell. "Fuck you, you little sarcastic prick. Here--" He wads up the small, singular envelope and throws it onto my bed. "--Enjoy. Shithead."
I wait a few minutes to be sure that the guard is gone before curiosity gets the better of me and I uncrumple the envelope. Hmm… no return address; only my name and cell number written in elegant, fountainpen cursive.
Inside the envelope is a folded piece of what probably *should* have been fresh, crisp parchment if it hadn't been for that damn guard. Anyway, the note seems to have been written by the same person who addressed the envelope…
Eh. What the hell. I'll read it.
Dearest Hedgehog,
I deduce that your, shall we say, 'restrained' situation must prove terribly frustrating for you--especially in light of those pesky serial murders that have been turning up as of late. Itching to solve the case, are you? Well I'm sorry, my old friend, but you can't do that from prison… and as much you'd like to deny it, not even your two-tailed former protégé has the resources to outwit me. This is one battle you're not ever going to win, and you won't believe the euphoria that the very idea has delivered to me.
One by one you'll see them die. Your friends, your family, your acquaintances, your (former) friends' friends--starting with the most distant and working up to more personal subjects. Let's just say that a couple friends of my own have something of a thirst for blood.
I'll bet you think that this letter is incriminating evidence, don't you? Touché! You won't find my name anywhere on this document or on the envelope, nor will you find any fingerprints or hairfibers or similar forensics that could otherwise connect me to the letter. The handwriting you see here, by the way, is not mine but that of my trusty secretarial robot (and if you think *that* little bit of information is enough to incriminate me, think again; there are over five hundred secretary 'bots used in thirty-six corporate businesses in Station Square alone). In any case, you can either go through the trouble of running a handwriting analysis or simply take my word for it--the choice is yours.
In closing, I'll take a brief moment to wish you luck on solving the case. As the old axiom goes: 'you're gonna need it.' In the meantime, do stay healthy. Oh, and try not to drop your soap bar in the community shower; I understand that could be dangerous in prison. But then again, what do I know?
Au revoir.
Sincerely, You Know Who.
I can't believe it. I can't fucking believe it.
Eggman is teasing me.
It *is* him, you know. There's no question about that, oh no. It's him. The son of a bitch thinks he's won, and this is his chance to rub the salt in.
"Guard!" I yell, rushing at the bars to my cell with my letter. "Guard!!! I know who's behind the Vampire Murders! It's Eggman! I have proof right *here*--fucking proof! Goddamn it, LISTEN to me!!!"
"Save it for somebody who cares, Hedgehog," calls that fat piece of shit from down the hall, reclined in a folding chair. He goes back to reading his magazine without a second thought.
And that's just the thing. Pity I didn't realize it sooner.
NOBODY cares.
At this moment, I've never felt so nauseated in my life.
___________________
"Tails, it's him."
"Who?"
"Robotnik. I got a letter from him the other day; no name or return address, but it *sounds* like him. And things are only gonna get bloodier as he keeps going."
"So what do you expect *me* to do? Try to take him down myself? You and I both know that I'm not capable of that."
"It's more than that, Tails. After reading that letter, I think that you might be an eventual target."
The kid doesn't say anything for a long time. I can't blame him. If somebody told *me* that a murderer might be after me, I wouldn't know what to say, either.
"Eggman's got me pissed," I say, if nothing else to break the silence, "and I'm gonna do something about it."
"How? You're in prison. They won't let you anywhere *near* Eggman."
Little Sherlock here, eh?
Voice low, I tell him, "That's why I'm getting outta here."
He shoots me his skeptical "yeah right" look. "Uh huh. And how the hell do you plan to do THAT?"
I shoot him my severe "quiet the fuck down" look, whispering. "I'm gonna need your help, bro."
A pause.
"You must be joking."
"I'm fucking serious!"
"I can't do that," he says fiercely, eyeing the security guard who's sitting behind me at a distance. "This is crazy. I can't just… well, you know… DO that. And you're here for a reason, you know."
"Mother*fuck* that," I spit at him. "The point is that people are fucking dying out there and nobody can stop it but me. This situation is *above* the law."
"Well, then let's say that *hypothetically* I agree to…" From the looks of it, he's choosing his words carefully just in case anybody is listening. "…um. Well, that I agree. What then? How do you propose that we're even gonna… er… you know, do… *this*?"
"You're good with computers."
"I'm the best."
I laugh. He gets his bravado from me.
"That's right, you're the best. And I hear the guards talking about their security system now and again. It's completely automated through a computer network, locks and alarms and everything. All you'd need to do is hack into the system and override it. Real quiet escape. They'd go all night without noticing, probably."
A few moments go by. I look behind me to make sure the guard isn't paying too much attention. He's not.
"Look, kid," I say, my tone softening, "I know what I'm asking you to do here. But Eggman can't get away with this. If I'm in here, he's free to keep killing people, maybe even *you*, too. And if you EVER got hurt, man, I don't know *what* I'd do."
"I can take care of myself, Sonic."
Heh. They grow up fast, don't they? Sometimes their mouths grow faster, though.
I play along anyway. "Of course you can, bro. But what about everyone else? People are *dying*. They need my help."
Silence.
"What happens afterwards?" Tails asks after a moment. "What are you gonna do after you take care of Eggman? Go back to jail? Like hell you will."
Hmm. To be honest, I haven't really thought that far ahead. In the back of my mind I've been thinking that maybe after the whole thing is over I'll earn myself a lesser sentence or, fuck, maybe even an absolution. Aw, hell, in either case I'd probably skip the country and move to Tahiti or somewhere and lay low for a while.
"I don't know yet," I say honestly. "We'll figure that out when the time comes, okay? Right now we've gotta focus on beating Eggman once and for all." I pause, my eyes never leaving his. He doesn't look confident.
"My cousin Kays is in town," he says slowly, almost awkwardly. "He's as good as I am at hacking. Maybe even better. I can ask him to help, too."
"How long do you think it'll take to plan this thing?"
"Couple weeks at least. Not sure."
"I need a definite timeframe, kid. Something to plan for. We've gotta be on the same page."
"Three weeks, then. That should give us plenty of time."
"We don't have that long. Ten or more people could be dead in that amount of time. Two weeks."
A sigh. "Fine. Two weeks."
"So you're with me, then?"
In an instant, the faintest grimace appeared and disappeared from Tails' face.
"Yeah. I'm with you."
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