Act 2
"Turbo"
["Sonic SatAM – Robotnik's Theme: Stratagem Remix" by ProudOne / YouTube 2010]
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Doctor Ivo Robotnik did not live in any of the twenty-three zones that constituted his empire. Part of him saw such an existence as beneath him. He chose, instead, to live above it all, in a vast airborne fortress which, according to official classification methods laid down by international agreement some several hundred years before, was just large enough to qualify as a zone in and of itself. Wing Fortress cruised through the atmosphere of planet Mobius like a predatory bird, letting all and sundry know that to look upon it was to look upon the firepower that made Robotnik the undisputed ruler of the world. It was stocked from end-to-end with weapons, equipment, laboratories, factories, radar, nerve-centres for the development of propaganda, information control and other general nastiness, an in-door entertainment centre the size of a supermarket where he could watch gaudy tributes to his glory, and even a private amusement park many sane Mobians would describe as nightmarish. It was staffed by the doctor's staple of Badniks and slaves who were one disappointment from being turned into Badniks. The technology of Mobius, such as it was, ran on energy derived from golden, ring-shaped artefacts that would pop out of thin air all over the landscape for no apparent reason. Robotnik, on the other hand, burnt fossil fuels in a great big furnace just so he could pour suffocating clouds of pollution into the air, giving the impression that, if he truly wished it, he could blot out the sun and terminate all life in a single fell swoop. He was, it must be said, completely and irrevocably evil.
His throne room was situated at the very heart of the monstrosity, and it was from here that he oversaw everything that happened within the cold, artificial walls. A robot could not spit oil without his knowing. An organic could not complain to himself about his lot in life, without the opportunity for an incriminating recording. Few saw Robotnik face-to-face. The majority of those under his heels hoped they never would. He was a creature whose species was totally unknown to the people of Mobius. Theorists had drawn comparisons between him and the simian families, but none who lived outside the empire took the implication that they could have produced such a loathsome villain as anything except a direct insult to their honour. He had a pink, furless head with a narrow, beak-like nose, a furious ginger moustache, and eyes like darkest obsidian. Those eyes were never seen to hold anything but sheer, unbridled contempt for any inferior being that dared to stand before him. His mouth was a wide scar cut into the doughy lower part of his face, lined with two rows of sharp, metallic teeth. The back of his head and neck had curved armour plates bolted all the way through to the bone, and tiny cables hooked him into his control chair, every few seconds twitching themselves free of the sockets of their own volition and reattaching elsewhere. A red and gold coat with disproportionately enhanced sleeves and shoulder-pads hung over a black, reflective suit that covered him from his neck down to the ends of his wrists and ankles. His gloves and boots were made of firmly coiled steel.
He was not mad to have lost processing plant one-epsilon-four. No, no, not mad at all. He had been banking on the Freedom Fighters launching their raid on it. You see, a single group of four-footed beasts meant little to him, but if one resistance cell existed, others would eventually rise to oppose him as well. This would, in the long run, become problematic for him. Even more troublesome was that this particular cell attributed their latest rash of victories to the deployment of a single weapon of incredible power. A weapon he would need to analyse and improve upon, not only to once more attain supremacy but to prove to these dirty creatures that anything they had, Ivo Robotnik could build it better! He knew this weapon's name, but obtaining further information had been difficult, but then he had an idea. Opening a brand new Badnik processing plant in the Metropolis Zone had been his way of luring the Freedom Fighters into the open. He had made it easy to get through its defences, even built a fake patch that made its operational systems look tougher than they really were, and they had fallen for it entirely. This next bit is where it gets really clever, if the doctor told you himself (and you would be obliged to agree with him). He built a room in the tower and filled it with sensitive touch-screens that would scan the weapon and provide him with a perfect three-dimensional template and intricate schematics, and stationed the mercenary Dread Metal in it to keep the weapon and its wielder until the model was complete, after which he remotely detonated the facility, allowing the Freedom Fighters to believe themselves responsible. He was surprised by the result. He had expected a machine of some kind, one that could scramble electronics and disrupt Badnik functions, but instead what he got was a wire-grid image of a boy. A hedgehog, to be precise, and one whose speed and agility was unlike anything in recorded history. He would be lying if he said he was not more than a touch intrigued. Why, there was something almost paranormal about such a beast. Its unusual colour, the formation of its quills, the way it could manipulate its movement when flying around at high velocities whilst curled up, or just the fact it had kicked seven bells out of Dread Metal, who had not been acting during their confrontation. He greatly desired to find, capture and dissect it. He rather doubted any Badnik's shell could contain the animal, but that would not be necessary. He would carry on with his initial plan, and then it would become obsolete as an organic battery.
"Computer," he said. "Access vault C.E.2. First tier passcode…"
"All passcodes accepted," a modulated voice rang out after Robotnik had finished the seventh sequence. "Voice pattern match. Brainwave pattern match. Vault C.E.2 has been accessed."
"Retrieve contents," said Robotnik.
A mechanical tentacle descended from the ceiling towards him, clutching a small, locked box in its claws. Robotnik reached up and took the box, unlocked it, and cracked the lid. The object inside pulsated brilliantly, and the tyrant smiled. The corners of his mouth reached as high as the metal nubs that used to be his ears. He finally had a use for his treasure, which had been sealed since the day he stole it so long ago. With another command, his chair detached from its stand and hovered in mid-air. It turned and floated towards his laboratory. He had a brand new project to be getting on with, and for a few days, perhaps those unfortunate enough to be trapped aboard the Wing Fortress could enjoy the luxury of not being watched. Between you and I, however, it was highly unlikely they would even realise anything had changed.
xxx
It was three days since the breakout in the Metropolis Zone.
Miles 'Tails' Prower had been warned to keep his status as a Freedom Fighter a closely guarded secret. That entailed looking as normal as possible, including going to school so as not to rouse any suspicion. He was a bright student, good in his classes, but afflicted with what his teachers called a, "Troubling hesitance to apply himself." It was their way of saying he was too bored with school to act like it mattered. Frankly, they were spot on. Tails was not an avid reader, he found overtly convoluted calculations unappealing, he preferred visiting other zones with his friends rather than trawling through lengthy passages about what kind of rocks were there, curricular science was mundane and suburban compared to an evening in Greasy Monkey's workshop, and history was boiled down to a list of the same names and dates every week. The education system had systematically cut away anything that might hold his attention with a scalpel, and replaced it with a nice, safe checklist. He used to enjoy P.E., but even that had lost its charm when he understood that half his time was spent lining up outside the changing rooms.
The teacher's voice had become a humming drone. The last thing he heard was something about the square of the hippopotamus, or was it the significance of the rubber thingy under the pie shelf? He stifled a yawn behind his palm, and his eyes drifted to the classroom window. The school stood halfway up the side of a cliff, surrounded by the beautiful seaside promenade with its hotels, restaurants and amusements, and from the window he could peer out across the waters of the Emerald Coast. A mile or so out to sea was an island, and on the island was the home of Sonic the Hedgehog. Tails could not wait for the bell to ring, so he could go over and visit. He wondered what it must be like to be Sonic. Never go to school, live on his own island, and just do whatever he wanted all day, every day. His attention was drawn to the clock on the wall above the whiteboard. Twenty-five minutes to go. He spent the rest of the lesson staring at it, mentally willing the clock's hands to spin forward. A brief moment of teenage insanity told him that striking the right time would cause the bell to ring. The rational part of his mind took back control not long into this exercise, and told him to do what everyone else was, which was pretending to read his text-book. Everyone except Amy Rose, the pink-furred girl at the far side of the room, who seemed preoccupied with tying weird charms in her quills and was promptly caught and made to stand in the hallway. Tails thought that this close to the end of the day, she probably took that opportunity to run for it and to hell with the consequences. It was exactly what he wanted to do, after all.
That last half-hour felt like an eternity, but the oppressiveness of the day seemed to melt off of Tails as he emerged into the glorious sunshine and the salty sea-breeze. He stuffed his school jumper in his rucksack and loosened his tie, all while dashing across the school-grounds and nearly tripping up several times. Unfurling his twin tails, he braided them together as tight as he could, then let them come undone by themselves. They did so at such incredible speed that they became like the blades of a helicopter, lifting him into the air. With his feet firmly off the ground, Tails turned himself towards the sea and headed out across the water. A few people who saw him pointed and talked actively about it. After all, a flying fox is not something you see every day, now is it? One silly little muppet of an animal tried to hit him with a stone but missed. Tails yelled something rude at the thrower and carried on. A second stone whizzed close by his ear, but Tails caught this one in his outstretched palm, hurled it back with all his strength, then flew off faster before he could see if it had hit.
Tails hated bullies. It royally bristled his brushes to have to deal with idiots on a daily basis who had no idea he was part of the one rogue element keeping Green Hill among the Free Zones of Mobius. His history with them, however, need not to be described at present.
He touched down on the beach, tails kicking up sand as they unwound to a stop. There was no sign of Sonic, but he could see the roof of a villa a little way down the shore, hemmed in by palm trees. He walked the rest of the way so he could take his time enjoying the scenery. It was quite idyllic, with its canopy of lush palm leaves, the beautiful scent of tropical flowers, the twittering of songbirds, the gurgling babble of the river that cut through the island from west to east, the water dancing in ever-changing shapes as it coursed around smooth stones on the bed, not to mention the constant audible whoosh of the breakers against the warm, white shore. Completely removed from the drab awfulness of Robotnik's dictatorship. He found a couple of freshly fallen coconuts and stuck them in his rucksack.
The sight of the villa always filled Tails with a kind of awe. Green Hill folk homes were fashioned around the enormous trees that grew there, or else were solitary cottages. Occasionally, you would find industrious Mobians recycling Robotnik's rubbish by taking parts from larger Badniks to replace the structures that had been lost or damaged. The villa, in another testament to its owner's pathological difference, had been built from the ground up by a former resident of the isle, and Sonic had apparently lived there by himself for as long as he could remember. Tails had trouble imagining a little kid being on his own like that, but the hedgehog seemed well-adjusted enough. Tails found the front doors wide open and hesitantly went in. He checked the spacious but messy living room, the pantry that was always empty, the bedrooms, the bathrooms (including the one with the king-sized Jacuzzi), even the unused studies and libraries that had become breeding grounds for dust-mites. There was little by way of trophies, portraits, statues or anything else you might find characteristic of such a grand house, and Tails had long been of the opinion that it was only used for the games consoles and as shelter from the rain. He finally thought to check the roof, and took the spiralling staircase.
Sonic was reclining in a deck-chair, wearing sunglasses and holding up a foldable tanning mirror. A bottle of sun tan lotion lay on its side under the chair, and beside him was an ice-box full of drinks.
"Sonic?" Tails squeaked. The hedgehog put the mirror down and lowered the glasses.
"Hey, buddy," he said, "what's going on?"
"Well, Bark's still out for your blood," said Tails. "He's furious about the Metropolis job." Bark was surprisingly unaware of the island, you see. He spent so much time visiting other zones to fight Robotnik's tyranny that he almost ignored Green Hill and its neighbours, and he was old enough to not have to go to school so he never visited the seafront. "Ray said he headed to the fringes of the Scrap Brain Zone to do a bit of art so he could calm down."
"Scrap Brain Zone," Sonic chuckled. "I tell you, mate, Robotnik needs to put together a better creative team. I mean, come on, what does that even mean?"
"Just takes a glimpse at half the Badnik names to see that. Ray reckons it's the robot who runs the place," said Tails, "or at least what everyone calls it."
"Named a zone after itself?" Sonic scoffed. "Boy, someone even more up their own backside than Doctor Blobnik. I'm almost impressed. Almost. Anything else?"
"Two of the animals we freed have signed up," said Tails. "Johnny Lightfoot and Porker Lewis."
"Past cool. I should meet them sometime," said Sonic. "You know, let them bask in my heroic and inspiring aura for a bit." He stopped and sniffed the air, not noticing the fox's eyes rolling. "Got something in the bag, kid?"
"Oh, yeah," said Tails, and took out the two coconuts. "I grabbed these off the beach on the way up. I think they're fresh."
"Well, what are you waiting for, an invitation?" replied Sonic. "Bring them over, bud. Let's crack those suckers wide open!"
"Sure, Sonic, but after we're done here, do you mind coming with me? Greasy and I finally finished what we were working on, we just didn't get a chance to show you before we left for Metropolis. I think you'll like it."
"Sounds good, kid. I was getting bored with this scene anyhow."
xxx
The Prower family owned a modest airfield in one of the flatter regions of the Green Hill Zone. It contained three hangars, a repair shop and a single-storey, red-brick office building. Their house was a twenty-minute walk away on a rise the locals had aptly dubbed Airfield Hill. Tails' uncle Al had taken over the business from his late brother when he was granted custody of the boy, and continued running it as a cargo freight service. Sonic and Tails arrived just as one of their pilots touched down in a magnificent yellow 'plane with an orange nose and three lightning bolts connected at the ends to form the image of a three-bladed propeller painted on both fuselages. The two boys watched with big grins on their faces as the pilot, a big fox with a heroic chin and smiling eyes, tugged down his scarf and pulled his flight goggles up on his forehead.
"Cousin Elroy!" Tails called from the ground.
"Hey, if it isn't the squirt," Cousin Elroy beamed and clambered out of the cockpit. "It's been ages, Tails!"
"Dude, even your cousin calls you that?" asked Sonic.
"I prefer it that way," said Tails. "I lost count of all the jokes people made about how many miles per hour I could fly."
"Oh!" Sonic said with a nod as understanding dawned. "Cool."
"Is that Squall?" Tails asked, turning his attention back to the tall figure of Cousin Elroy, who was wearing a brown bomber jacket with a woolly collar and thick, grey gloves. "She looks great!"
"Ah! Fresh lick of paint and a new propeller do wonders, kidda," said Elroy, patting the side of his 'plane. He suddenly picked up Tails in one arm as if he weighed nothing. Tails protested that he was too old for that, and Elroy told him to pipe down and enjoy the free ride before stuffing his flight cap over the smaller fox's head. Sonic was not entirely sure how to feel. He liked being the centre of attention, but he seemed to have gone completely unnoticed.
"Come on," said Elroy, "I need to see my dad about something, then I'll tell you everything about my last trip."
"Great!" said Tails. "First though, Cousin Elroy, this is Sonic. He's my best friend."
Elroy grunted quizzically, then looked down. His eyes widened. "Oh! Sorry, mate, didn't see you down there! Like the look, by the way! Full body-dye and body mods, I'm guessing?"
"Sure, why not?" shrugged Sonic, doubting the fox would believe how he really came to attain his unique fur colour and quill fusions.
"And here I thought you had to be eighteen," said Elroy. "Ah, well, I'm not the law, so no worries. Here, what's the job like?"
"Job?"
"Keeping my baby cousin here out of trouble," said Elroy, playfully jabbing Tails in the stomach. Tails protested again, but this time between laughs.
"Full time and rubbish pay," Sonic smirked. He liked this Cousin Elroy character. He did not seem the type to care what people thought of him, what he had to say, or how loudly he said it (which was very loud). Sonic could respect that. Also, he thought that being a pilot just had to be, like, the coolest thing ever. Tails convinced Cousin Elroy to bring Uncle Al and Auntie Lydia to hangar two, insisting that they would appreciate what he had to show them even more than Sonic. The four of them gathered outside while Tails went in through the back door. Uncle Al, a plump but tough-looking soul in oil-stained overalls, crossed his arms over his chest and looked more expectant than bewildered, as the others were.
"Hey, Uncle Al," said Sonic, "you know anything about this?"
"Yeah, Dad," Cousin Elroy put in, "what's the kid been up to while I've been away?"
"Wait and see, boys," replied Uncle Al.
The hangar door opened, and something rolled out onto the airstrip.
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["Believe In Myself" by Karen Brake / Sonic Adventure 1998]
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Tails sat in the cockpit of a sleek, crimson biplane. The wings were red on top with yellow stripes painted on, and white on the sides and underneath. Yellow-and-orange flame designs decorated the front end of her fuselage. A white bar divided the tail-plane into three sections, and in the middle of the bar on either side was an image of two wavy fox tails inside a blue circle ringed with gold. Two curved bits of metal were bolted into place on the very top. Underlined in white on her flank was her name, in a cursive and elegant font: 'Prower TORNADO Special.'
"What do you all think?" asked Tails over the roar of the engine. He had already donned a cap, goggles and scarf like Cousin Elroy's, only his were a better fit.
Auntie Lydia picked her jaw up off the ground. "You mended your father's 'plane!" she gawked. "Miles, she's absolutely gorgeous!" Cousin Elroy got over his own shock and started clapping and cheering.
"Didn't just mend it, Auntie Lydia!" said Tails. "She's even better than ever! Faster, sleeker, stronger! She's a whole new set of wings!"
"Your dad would be proud of you, m'boy!" exclaimed Uncle Al. "I could never get her to cooperate when I tried fixing her, so you're officially a better mechanic than me!"
"Well, I had some help from a friend," said Tails, but he was drowned out.
"It's awesome, Tails!" cried Sonic, and quick as a flash, he hopped up onto the top wings and slid his feet under the curved bits, which he realised were footholds. "Come on, let's take her for a spin, buddy!"
"Is that okay, Uncle Al?" Tails called.
"You put her back together, kidda! It'd be a shame not to take her up!" was the response.
"Just be careful, you pair!" Auntie Lydia chimed in.
"Don't you worry about us, Missus P.," Sonic grinned, confidently thumbing the edge of his nose. The three Prowers started cheering as loud as they could as the TORNADO Special rolled down the airstrip, picking up speed until, with a great whoosh of strength, she was airborne. Sonic hollered at the top of his lungs as the wind whipped at him. He spread his arms out and his jacket billowed behind him like a cape. "YEEEEHAAAAW!"
The 'plane swooped and swerved, it twisted and twirled, dancing through the clouds like a fiery angel. She rolled sideways and went into a loop, and Sonic was amazed at how deftly Tails handled her, but the truth was that Tails had been learning all his life. Instead of picture books, cartoons and tea cup rides, he had grown up reading books on aviation, watching documentaries on aeronautics and going up in all kinds of swift and experimental machines, belted securely against his father, who showed him first-hand how to operate them. He had gone solo for the first time when he was eleven, in a small one-animal autogyro, and it had only gotten better from there. He felt the constant, gentle hum of the fuel lines under his feet, transferring ring energy to and from the engine and circulating it throughout the TORNADO, filling every inch of her.
They were cruising when they saw a dark blot above the cloud-line.
"Sonic, I've got something on the radar," said Tails.
"I see it," replied the hedgehog, putting a hand over his brow and peering at the blot. "No idea what it is, but I think it's coming right towards – ARGH!" Sonic was cut off as something zipped past him, and he was forced to duck to avoid it taking his head off. The thing's vapour trail shimmered in the air and made the tips of his quills tremble.
"What was that!?" they chorused. The thing stopped in mid-air, and turned around to attack once again.
xxx
["Metallic Madness: Past" by Naofumi Hataya / Sonic C.D. 1993]
xxx
"Whatever it is, it can shift," said Sonic, straightening up. "Never tried an aerial battle. Think you can handle it, Tails?"
"I'll do my best, Sonic," said Tails, although he was far from convinced.
"Good, because here he comes!" Sonic yelled, and did a backflip. The thing passed under him, shaving the tips off several spikes. Sonic landed at the end of one of the 'plane's top wings and windmilled his arms to regain his balance. "All right, show-off!" he yelled at the streaking attacker. "Pretty impressive, but how about you show me your face so I know who I'm about to turn into a stain on the ground!"
Tails tried to warn Sonic of the impending third attempt by the assailant, but it tackled the hedgehog over before the words even left his throat. Sonic grunted and got unsteadily to his feet, mindful that there was nothing for him to hold on to. He turned around, and there was his opponent. It was unlike any Badnik he had ever seen before, because it looked like him. Mechanical and pure evil, but close enough. The machine was covered in polished blue, with a gold ring in the middle of its torso and a propulsion engine under its upper back spikes. Its hands were silver and clawed, and its segmented feet were red, to match his trainers. It had no mouth, but its nose was a deadly, serrated blade. More spikes jutted from its forearms and shoulders. Scarlet eyes glared out at him from behind a black visor.
"And what kind of 'bot are you supposed to be?" Sonic sneered, covering the fact he found the thing a little unsettling. "Because, I have to tell you, I think I wear my look better than you do."
The metal hedgehog let out a series of electronic beeps.
"Um. Say again? I don't speak dial-up."
"Sonic, what's going on up there?" Tails called. "Are you okay?"
"Fine, Tails," the hedgehog replied. "I've got this under control."
"Confirmation: vocal pattern data downloaded," the machine said in the hedgehog's own voice. "Answer to previous relevant question: I am Turbo the Metal Sonic. My function is the elimination of Freedom Fighter super-weapon codenamed, 'Sonic'."
"Hey! I'm nobody's weapon, scrap brain!" snapped Sonic. "I don't need anyone to tell me to smash you just like any other of Robotnik's toys!"
"Confirmation: pattern integrated into positronic brain's vocaliser circuit," said the robot. It stood up straight, thumbed its nose, and pointed challengingly at Sonic. "I'd love to see you try, punk."
"Fine with me. I was getting bored of all your talking, bucket-head!" Sonic growled, and charged at Turbo. The machine gracefully somersaulted into the air, landed behind Sonic, then span a kick into his back. Sonic slid off the edge of the wing, passed the supporting pole, and caught hold of the lower wing's edge. Tails yelled in horror.
"I'm fine, Tails!" said Sonic, pulling himself up.
"Are you, though?" asked Tails.
"Look, it's no problem," Sonic assured him. "I just need a little time to work out his weak point. Can you help me buy some time?"
"I got it," said Tails with a nod. "I did more than just repaint this thing, you know. Greasy and I loaded her with all the mod cons."
"Trying to run, furry?" snarled Turbo the Metal Sonic, apparently materialising behind the real one. Tails, seeing him for the first time, gaped in wide-eyed shock. Sonic used the supporting pole to swing out of the robot's reach.
"Eat this, you bionic bully!" cried Tails, snapping back to his senses. He pulled a crank on the instrument panel. A section opened in the side of the Prower TORNADO Special. "Sonic! Get down!" Tails yelled, and he did, just as a spray of iron balls flew out and peppered Turbo all over. "How'd you like my spread gun?" The metal hedgehog tried to orientate himself, but was not quite quick enough to avoid Sonic kicking his legs out from under him. Turbo powered up his propulsion engine and flew away as the spread gun traced him clumsily through the air. Its ammunition ran out quickly, however. Tails swore under his breath.
"It's okay. I think you spooked him a bit," said Sonic. "Well done, man. I'm going to see if I can get him with a Homing Attack. Be ready to catch me and the animal trapped inside him, okay?" Tails nodded his agreement. Sonic swung up onto the top wings, bounced off and curled into his many-pointed spherical form. "Sonic Homing Attack!" The hedgehog whooshed towards Turbo, slamming off his midsection, but then he stopped. Although the front of Turbo's torso was very visibly damaged, he had reacted by moving his paws to encircle Sonic. The air around them both seemed to be waving, as if through steam. Sonic was trapped in mid-air, and he was slowing down.
"Engaging high-friction field," said Turbo, "maximum density. Excess kinetic energy will now be dispersed."
Sonic stopped completely, and energy shot out of him in a single upward stream instead of the omniversal waves he normally generated, and faded out in the stratosphere. He struggled to move, to raise his fists, but he was caught. The invisible field held him like sticky sap. Turbo relinquished his prisoner, and Sonic began to fall, only to be sent hurtling upwards by a piston-driven punch to his solar plexus. Turbo powered up his engine and followed.
"Your speed is nothing compared to mine, hedgehog!" the robot declared. "I can move twice as fast as you with a fraction of the energy expenditure! Doctor Robotnik has engineered me to be your superior in every way!"
Sonic had to admit, not aloud mind you, that his counterpart was much faster than him. He could barely register that Turbo was hitting him until he felt the stings. He was having trouble breathing, but his frenzied mind could not tell if it was because the air was thinner at this altitude, or if it was because his ribs were broken, which they most certainly were. Finally, Turbo eased up enough for Sonic to begin falling again. Adrenaline surged through him, numbing him to the point of mania, and when Turbo appeared above him, he reacted purely on instinct and grabbed the robot's ankle.
"You have my speed, faker," he slurred, "but not my smarts." His free hand went to a button on his belt. "Fire Shield on!" Blazing heat rolled off the hedgehog's body, and he punched a burning fist straight through Turbo's side. His paw wrapped around something and pulled. He was not very mechanically inclined, but it looked important. Oil squirted out and sizzled out against the shield. Turbo let out an electronic shriek as the heat melted his leg, and Sonic fell, still holding the severed foot as the shield tapered out. Turbo held one paw over his wound. His engine sputtered, and Sonic could see puffs of black smoke.
The TORNADO Special swooped beneath Sonic, who landed in the co-pilot's seat behind Tails.
"Tails," said Sonic between gasps, "that robot…he's no Badnik."
"What do you mean?" Tails replied.
"I put my fist in pretty deep just now," said Sonic, and held up the lump he had ripped from Turbo's guts. "Judging by the smoke, I got part of what's keeping him up here, but I didn't feel a containment cell. There was something else."
All Badniks used special cells inside their bodies, filled with oxygenated slime, to keep their organic batteries alive for as long as possible. Nobody was quite sure how the process worked, but it seemed to have been implemented simply to further oppress the downtrodden and the enslaved. Robotnik, after all, had access to other unpleasant methods of powering his abominations. Given the size of the average Mobian compared to the average Badnik, one should feel the smooth, icy surface of the cell after breaking through the metal outer casing, and so you may well understand why Sonic found the lack of one unsettling.
"We need to get you to a hospital," said Tails. "I can hear it in your voice. You're hurt bad. We can escape while that monster compensates for you tearing out half his flight kit."
"Tails," Sonic coughed, "he'll just chase us down."
"No, he won't," said the fox sternly. "I've got just the thing."
He pulled another lever on the instrument panel. The 'plane's nose dipped down and she began her descent. Two stubby pipes sprouted from her tail, emitting streams of glittery, emerald green dust. The streams engulfed Turbo, who was more fixated on his objective than the terrible damage to his systems. Tiny, white, glittering stars flew in and out, confusing his optic sensor array before gluing themselves over his face, in his ears, in his engine, covering him in a dense blanket of light. His jets sputtered futilely, and he fell. He fell straight through the mist, crashed onto the TORNADO Special, and clung to the side. He swiped blindly, opening a hole in the sleeve of Sonic's jacket.
"Lightning Shield on!" Sonic cried, and pushed the full force of the force-field into Turbo's metal forehead. There was a small explosion, denting the impact spot inwards, and Turbo slipped out of sight.
"Do you think he's gone, Sonic?" Tails called back over his shoulder. The hedgehog said nothing. He had lost consciousness.
xxx
Auntie Lydia was a trained nurse. It helped to have some knowledge of medicine when her family were constantly suffering knocks, bumps and burns at work. When her nephew landed the TORNADO Special on the airstrip, its formerly fresh appearance now dinged and scratched, she had rushed over to see if he was all right. She had carried Sonic, with the help of her husband and son, into the red-brick office building, which contained a small infirmary, and immediately began to check him over. Tails, overcome with shock, was sitting on a chair in a corner and taking deep breaths from an oxygen mask while he waited for his heart to return to something resembling an ordinary beat-per-minute rate. Cousin Elroy was trying to get him to explain what in the name of Mobius had happened up there.
A sudden and surprising burst of force, accompanied by a blinding flash of light, smashed open a hole in the wall, peppering the room and its occupants with debris. The Prower family stared at the metal horror standing, or rather wobbling, before them. Oddly coloured vapours were rising from the black hollow in its torso. Its single functioning eye was narrowed with mechanical anger.
Turbo the Metal Sonic was far from finished. His voice was badly distorted by his broken vocaliser circuit, but the intent was clear. "Give. Me. That. Hedgehog."
Author's Notes:
Albert "Uncle Al" Prower is named after Albert Ball (1896-1917), a British Royal Flying Corps air ace who fought during the First World War and to this day remains the fourth highest scoring pilot in the organisation's history with 44 solo victories.
Similarly, Lydia "Auntie Lydia" Prower is named after Lydia Litvyak (1921-1943), a Russian pilot who flew for the U.S.S.R. in the Second World War. She scored twelve solo victories and participated in a number of group ones. She also holds the distinction of being among a handful of true female aces.
Last of all, "Cousin" Elroy Prower is named after Captain George McElroy (1893-1918), who served at the same time as Ball in both the R.F.C. and its successor organisation, the Royal Air Force, and holds their third highest score of 47 solo victories.
The bright colours used for Cousin Elroy's Squall are based closely on the Tornado Racer from Sonic & SEGA All-Star Racing (2010), while the Prower TORNADO Special includes visual aspects from several of its game incarnations but most prominently resembles its original design, as it was seen in Sonic the Hedgehog 2 (1992).
