Sonic Insanity

This being the two-year anniversary of my beloved fanfic, I will grace you with the splendiferous beginning of another fic I have in the works…

Sonic Bankruptcy

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The phone rang, shaking off a thin layer of dust as it vibrated. The sound of the buzzing echoed dolefully throughout Knuckles' apartment. The echidna himself was standing by the window, yelling one-sided conversations at the walls, trying to make his neighbors think that he had a life and was on the phone.

"That party last night sure was something, huh?" Knuckles hollered at the wall, tragically unaware that his neighbors were out shopping and were therefore missing this performance. "I definitely danced and talked to girls and did things that would lead anybody happening to listen in on this that I'm a real social kinda guy who wants to have friends!" Knuckles' face contorted into misery. "All I ever wanted was to have a friend! It was the only thing I ever needed… nobody listened to me, nobody wanted me, my whole li-" The phone cut him off mid-wail. He glared at the phone then continued to cry crocodile tears in the hopes that somebody might buy him a pizza. "Anybody… if anybody had ever been around to-"

His own voice slid through the room.

"Hey, you've got the Knux… leave a message before the beep and I'll get right back to you!" There was a long twenty-second silence, and Knuckles snickered, remembering times when Sonic had rushed to leave messages, trying to get the whole thing out before the dreaded beep.

Finally the beep sounded, and a thin voice cut through his anguish. "Knuckles, this is Sega's Director Of Character Management, Itoshi Wasabitsu. We've been trying to-"

"Sega?" Knuckles muttered incredulously, not moving, staring at the phone as Wasabitsu went on.

"Anyway, we'd like it if you could come by your local Sega division. As I recall, you still live at 293 Avalon Drive, Terracotta City. Please call us back to arrange transportation to and-"

Knuckles swore and looked for a pen and paper before realizing he could just pick up the phone. This was the chance of a lifetime! His chance of making a comeback from the ignominious life he now led! He seized the phone and pressed the green button.

"Hey, just walked in," he said in as casual a voice as he could muster, opening the hall door for effect. "What was it you wanted?"

"Ah, Knuckles," came the crisp voice of the Director. "I was hoping to speak with you. Do you think we could carry on this conversation at the Sega offices near you?"

"Um… sure, but what's this about?" Knuckles asked, trying to disguise the anticipation building up in him, like the pile of dirt he had just dug out of his own grave.

"I'd prefer to meet face-to-face," said Wasabitsu. "We can arrange for somebody to pick you up in half an hour. Would that be reasonable?"

"Um… sure, I have nothing planned," Knuckles said nervously. "Cause, you know, I'm usually very busy with all sorts of engagements and prearranged plans that keep me from doing stuff like this… but… er…"

There was a skeptical silence, then Watsabitsu's voice lanced back over the phone. "All right, Knuckles. We'll pick you up in half an hour, is that fine?"

"It's fine! Couldn't be better!" yelped Knuckles, overjoyed by his good fortune. Dropping the phone, he sprinted into the shower and spruced up, chanting and shaking the whole time from glee.

"Finally, some excitement!" he crowed, toweling his whole body dry except for his dreadlocks, which he ironed while they were still wet to achieve a steamed effect. "This could be a real breakthrough! I wonder if he invited anyone else?" Filled with these jubilant thoughts, he was soon at his most debonair and charming. He had just finished brushing his teeth when the intercom buzzed.

"Who is it?" he asked, putting the gravelly edge into his voice that the ladies went gaga for before realizing that it would probably sound aggressive to anybody else.

"Your ride is here, sir," came the reply, and Knuckles did one last joyful pirouette before leaping down the stairs two at a time. Bursting out the front door, he saw the ride: a limo longer than most school busses, idling outside his door at three different parking meters simultaneously. The chauffeur, a slender Japanese man, gave Knuckles a smile that was just as thin as he was and then shoved him into the car bodily. It was then that Knuckles saw that the real chauffeur was sitting in the driver's seat. The pushy fellow outside must be some kind of guard. To protect Knuckles, or… a terrible thought lurched into his head… to keep him from getting out?

Before the red echidna could take decisive action, however, the doors slammed shut and they sped off. A layer of glass shot up between the front seat and the many back ones. As Knuckles turned to examine his surroundings from his crumpled position on the thick, burgundy-shag-carpeted floor, he realized he was not alone.

The limo's numerous benches, couches, seats and cushions were crammed with old Sega characters. Various robots that he vaguely recalled pummeling in games long past filled the air with their monotonous droning and humming. Furries, birds and reptiles sat by themselves or in small groups, talking quietly. As far as he could tell, none were as famous as he was. None, it seemed, except for a solitary bat idly examining her claws in the plush velvet seat toward the back of the limousine.

A nearby quartet of robots that had been indolently lounging began a stirring string accompaniment to the scene. Knuckles barely noticed the ill-considered, bouncy, uplifting pop tune that the viola was cranking out in utter contrast to any other noise the violins or cello were producing. To think that here, finally, in this very car, but for a variety of unimportant and conveniently deaf extras, he was alone with the only girl he had ever had true romantic feelings for… his heart seemed to flutter weakly in his chest.

"Rouge," he growled, putting on a masculine baritone as he sidled up to her. "You look the same as always." Beautiful, he silently added, yearning for her beautiful voice to slide over him, shedding its skin like a snake and leaving him with the paper-thin husk, a memory of those gilded tones…

"Knuckles?" she asked, not turning around, and he allowed his gaze to wander over her sumptuous hips and the tantalizing triangle of back that her dress afforded. "So they've gotten in touch with you too, huh?"

"I guess so," the echidna said as smoothly as he could, taking a seat close by. She sat with a seat between them, and he prayed that the limo would run over some sort of incendiary manhole cover that would kill everybody else in the limo and throw her into his lap somehow… or that he might gallantly save her and in the blind, soaring passion of her gratitude she might-

"Did they tell you what they wanted us for?" she inquired, crossing her legs in a comfortable way with the added benefit of revealing a dangerous expanse of thigh. She seemed entirely unconscious of the way her skirt rasped over the pale white fur… God, he could have ripped it off with his teeth…

She's just a pretty girl, just a girl! he attempted, in vain, to assure himself. "No, not exactly… it seems like there's a lot of minor Sega characters here, though. Are they rounding us all up?"

"I believe so," Rouge said thoughtfully, showing a pointed fang as her lips moved and Knuckles dreamed woozily. "There's gonna be a lot more… they've been finding everybody. All the robots and minor characters are really excited, this is the first work they've had in years."

Knuckles longed to hear her say that she too had been jobless. Then he could be sure that she would not laugh when he wept into her bosom, wept that he had waited so long for some contact from anybody at his old job, waited and prayed that somehow, the debacle of the 3D games could be salvaged. But she was silent, anticipating his response with a daintily raised eyebrow.

"Yeah," he said lamely. "But why would they need everybody? Why do they need everybody for whatever this is?"

"I have no idea, but it's certainly going to be big," she said, and then glanced eagerly out of the tinted window as the limo came to a halt and an indistinct figure moved outside.

Knuckles unenthusiastically broke off conversation with her and tried to make out the person on the other side of the tinted glass. His curiosity grew gradually, nearly eclipsing his infatuation with Rouge. Who was that strange, hedgehog-like person who kept fingering a strange jewel in his hand? He could have sworn he'd seen those rocket boots somewhere before… and now that he thought of it, the imperious voice promising the baggage handler certain death if he didn't work faster seemed very familiar. It was almost suspicious… shady, one might say…

"I just can't help but think that I've seen that guy somewhere before," muttered the echidna, racking his brains furiously. Rouge gave him a deeply pitying look before turning eagerly to the door.

"It seems like I should know his name… if I do, it's lost in the shadowy past," continued Knuckles, utterly oblivious. "Just like that hedgehog fella that got his own solo game without Sonic! Remember, Rouge? The one with black fur? Whose dark past was slowly unfolding before him and who had to make the choice between good and evil in a cosmic war? You know," Knuckles asked, rubbing his chin, "somehow I get the feeling that that was some kind of foreshadowing."

Rouge ground her fangs. "You hit the nail right on the head, as always."

Knuckles' heart swelled like a balloon at the compliment. The sarcasm in her voice was more lost on him than subtle comedy on a Will Ferrell fan. "Why, thank you-"

The door flew open and in stepped…

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Cliffhanger! How will this story resolve? Will it? I don't know if I'll ever finish that. Regardless, keep reading and reviewing.