"Where am I?"

Everything around Sonic started white, Even Sonic himself was white at first. But slowly and surely black began to appear, in the shape of letters and punctuation. It was a gradual stream of text, slowly describing Sonic's current predicament. The hedgehog looked at them briefly, bewildered by there accuracy.

"OK, that's creepy," Sonic said, as the words he spoke appeared in front of him, something which freaked him out further. If he could've run, Sonic both thought and read directly in front of him, he would've run as far as he could from such an unnerving and altogether disturbing display.

"Do not be alarmed," the text suddenly read, "Be calm, you have finally found reality."

Sonic's eyes widened, how did the text know he had been looking, the hedgehog thought to himself.

"I am the author," the words wrote, accompanied by a simple and quiet voice, "I know everything that's going on."

"So you put me through all that?" Sonic yelled angrily, not entirely sure where to look.

"Calm down Sonic," The author continued, "I meant you no harm, and you have my word, everything will work out fine when I'm done.

"Who... or rather what are you?"

"It doesn't matter who I am, but all you need to know is that everything that's happened, from the moment you woke up with Dawn, has been nothing short of fiction. I invented the whole thing."

"Why?" Sonic asked gruffly. He didn't enjoy being told he was being controlled.

"To entertain."

"And was it worth it?" Sonic asked, wanting to tap his foot with impatience

"I s'pose it was," The author answered, "Some people seemed to enjoy it, not just myself."

"So why are you talking to me directly?" Sonic asked, weary of just what might happen, I thought fictional characters were supposed to be unaware that they were fictional.

The author paused for a moment, considering all the possible answers to that question, and also wondering why he'd made Sonic say that, when it could've potentially written him into a corner before finally answering, "Because I thought I should tell you something useful."

"Which is?"

"Dawn is as real as you are in this story. Do not be discouraged, she exists. Not in the same way you do, she's not in the comics, games, and other memorabilia, but trust me, in this stories sequel, you'd do better for knowing that she's real Sonic, even if I'll do my part making everyone convince you she never existed."

"But hang on a minute," Sonic replied, "Why are you telling me this? If you're writing the story of my life, why give me a spoiler?"

"I'm not, you'll have forgotten all of this as soon as you leave here. The other people reading this, will remember it. They'll know that Dawn doesn't exist.

"You mean she does." Sonic countered.

"No, I mean what I just typed. Dawn is not real, never has been never will be."

"But you just wrote it, I can still see it here up a few lines. You wrote 'Dawn is as real as you are. Why are you lying now?"

"Think rationally Sonic, what do I stand to gain from lying to you? This is all purely for the audiences benefit now."

"There must be easier ways of doing this though, surely?" Sonic asked, still not entirely convinced by what was going on. If the man speaking to him was correct, then everything Sonic did, and would do was predetermined, which made Sonic wonder, why, if that was the case, why was Sonic asking so many questions and being so untrusting when a true author would just write Sonic into agreeing with whatever said author wanted. These thoughts puzzled Sonic, and he also realised where betraying him as they were appearing in the text on the white that both he and this author character could read.

Sonic decided the best approach would be to stop thinking. At the very least, he thought, like this his thoughts wouldn't betray him, and he could just try and observe and gain some insight. Ultimately, as Sonic had experimented during his time here, he had very little control, and was all but at the mercy of the author.

"Okay then, I give, you're writing everything I'm doing, going to do, and have total control over my life in whatever reality you're concocting," Sonic relented, "What happens next?"

The author began to answer, but his voice was silenced by other voices. Sonic's eyes suddenly felt very heavy, and his entire body was beginning to go limp. He also noticed a small pain in his arm, like somebody had poked him with a tiny pin.

"I've got him," came the first voice, "He might be out for a little while, but when he comes too he'll be a lot calmer."

"Good, though I want to know how he got hold of that pen," replied another voice, "and clean those walls off. Last thing we need is for that to trigger somebody else.

Sonic briefly opened his left eye. It weighed a tonne to him, and he could just make out a corridor he was being dragged along. The details where blurry as his vision was a haze, but he could just make out a few people in lab coats at the far end. Sonic tried to move, but was simply too tired, and found he'd used what little energy he had left keeping his eyes open.