It's 3:00am when Chuck goes downstairs to grab a cup of water for his ever so sore throat. 3:00am when he gets an odd feeling from his gut to jump into the elevator that leads down to the lab. 3:00 am when switches on the light switch and finds Miles "Tails" Prower dead.
The scientist is paralysed by shock and terror as he lays eyes on the bent out of shape body on the floor. A pool of blood surrounds the poor boy, soaking into his pristine yellow fur, dampening its rich colour. The main wound which seems to be the fatal blow, gradually gushed blood, mortifyingly fresh. Part of his attire is shredded, bits of his trademark gloves float adequately in blood. The shoes on the other hand are untouched, except for blood and dust collecting on them.
Chuck grimaces at the barbarity of the situation, graphically brutal and cruel, who could inflict such pain? He dares to step closer, gasping for air, as he looms over the deceased kit. His kneecaps wobble, wiping his sleeve against his eyes, unconvinced that this was transpiring.
What shatters him even more, is that the fox's eyes are wide open, appearing like pinpricks, soullessly staring at the ceiling above. The lights above reflect off his baby blue eyes, that once used to be full of life and youth. Yet that is gone, never to be seen again. Sweat gathers on the wrinkles of the professor's forehead, ignoring the stench of the corpse maliciously thrown onto the floor.
He steps into the blood uncomfortable that it was the former's but crouches down to a level where he can see the fox lay perfectly. Chuck screws his eyes shut, allowing sobs to submit, all while reaching for the child, hand failing to meet the wreck of a being.
Inevitably, he suspends sadness as much as his emotions allows, taking in a breath, the very blood he sits in reminds him that he isn't in a nightmare.
He grasps the side of Tails' dry shrivelled blood-soaked cheek, clasping his hand around the tuffs of his muzzle firmly. The fur has died with its owner, losing its softness in texture.
Chuck keeps his eyes away from the significantly large hole passing right through the stomach, the display of loose flesh and scattered bones is a wretched animalistic sight.
Instead, he takes ahold of Tails' naked paw, gripping it tightly to attempt to feel his pulse pumping through. It's an irrational practice but he feels it necessary.
He never thought it would come to this, to Tails dying, such a murderous, evil death. One only imagined in horror films because fiction was the true one cruel enough to implement it. No one could go that low, be so careless, not even Eggman.
Tears mixed with the cold blood, sticking onto the fox's fur like super glue.
The naive fox was just here yesterday, picking out flowers with Cream, suggesting recipes to cook with Ella, watching TV, inventing with Chuck! It was too surreal, the stakes were never considered, were not supposed to be thought out at this level.
He squeezed the heavy palm, surely popping a few veins. Another look into Tails' eyes and Chuck lost it. He was angry, angry at that fact that he might've been able to prevent this horrid predicament, furious that Tails wasn't safely secured in bed at the time, enraged that he found a note posted near the fox's unruly bangs.
It was clear as the sky, a post-it-note, with an amateur drawing of a head with a moustache. The Eggman Empire logo, smack in the middle.
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what is this, I'm genuinely sorry for the trash quality of this chapter.
next chapter will hopefully be more longer and have more plot depth.