Hello, everyone. I am taking a short break from writing The Dark Emerald trilogy to focus on a short fic based on a game I've not yet played, yet, have read about one of the main villains, Infinite (a.k.a., "Zero") the Jackal in varying fandoms and wikis, and have viewed his demeanor in snippets of the comic as well as cutscenes from the game itself via YouTube. It seems this character had a dark and mysterious backstory that wasn't very-well explained, leaving us to simply believe that he was this terribly sadistic person with an inferiority complex that wanted nothing more than to destroy the entire world and everyone in it, regardless of forsaking his own band of brothers/sisters (by way of a gang-related family) in the process. Kind of a tall order, you think? Definitely something someone without battling inner demons would, or could, ever actually want, right? This short fiction focuses on this backstory, though there are some instances based on actual events that hit very close to home, and was hard to write, let me tell you. :(
Again, I have never played or read Sonic Forces, so if my accuracy is a little off, please keep that into consideration, as I'm not trying to incorporate any of that into this story (ok, well, maybe a morsel, but no more than that!). This is simply an AU-based version of what I think happened to Infinite after his defeat.
I hope you all enjoy this. Please feel free to leave a review, and, by all means, offer up suggestions you might think could improve this! I am a writer, so critical remarks are the norm, but please be nice about it! ;)
J. Maxwell
Update (9/29) - noticed some nasty plot holes, and decided to tidy those up, as well as some other clunky sentence structures.
Sonic, Sonic Forces and all other various Sonic The Hedgehog characters are Copyright SEGA, Sonic Team, Archie, and all other associations affiliated with the Sonic the Hedgehog game/literature/anime/manga. Names used for other characters are random. Any people bearing the real name, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Descension
1
The vast open field looked like an ocean of green as a passing breeze created rolling waves through the tall grass. Though its appearance should have been calming to those seeking quiet reflection as the soft lullaby of the wind danced over the blades, somber reminders of recent events billowed in the distance like tall pillars of black against a blanketed sky of mixed grays. The scent of destruction and despair lingered in the air, mingling with that of the sweet scent emanating from the lush grass, losing its grip as the cool blast from the coming rain kept pushing it away to allow for rejuvenated spirits to flourish now that the war with Dr. Eggman had finally ended thanks to a concerted final push from the Resistance, complimented by a decisive victory over the seemingly invincible Infinite before ultimately bringing the evil doctor down in a climactic final battle.
But as the celebrations within the city ensued despite its decimation, a figure could be seen meandering through the field, weaving a winding, confused path blotted with crimson. A few paces behind laid a red-stained mask, a section of it having broken away. Forward the figure would crawl before falling, struggle to its knees, and begin again, clutching its chest, not knowing which direction to go. With the last strength ebbing, the figure finally fell onto its back, chest heaving though shallow were its breaths. The figure, a jackal covered in black fur with white patches where his ribs were, pulled his hand away from the angry wound, and saw the blood that covered his gloved hand.
Perhaps it was a simple twist of miraculous fate that Infinite had initially survived being absorbed by the original Phantom Ruby, for as he faded into a teleportation wave, the copy that had been fused to his chest began tearing itself apart during its panicked hurtle towards the reactor in hopes of regenerating its power, taking with it his fur and flesh before its final flash of disintegration violently cast him out of the wormhole it had created and into the open field where he now laid.
The searing pain that had ravaged his broken body had begun to subside, being replaced by an unnerving warmness as if he were being caressed by sleep's loving, yet sometimes deadly, hands. But he minded little as his attention was now on the gray sky above, as if wanting to take one final look at the world he wanted to destroy before death would take him.
I have lost everything...
He began coughing, and he tasted blood that had come up into his mouth and onto his tongue. It wouldn't be long now.
The black hedgehog was right all along. I am weak, pathetic...
His breathing became increasingly labored, and his eyes began to close despite the tears that had begun to well in them.
Worthless...
But before the darkness could overtake him, he swore he saw a pink figure suddenly appear over him, looming, likely gloating.
When he finally opened his eyes, he found himself back in the open field, a breeze rolling over the grass until it washed over him, and he could both feel and smell the purity of it all. He took his hand that was now devoid of his glove, and touched the soft blades of grass while taking in a long breath before realizing that his injuries had somehow healed completely. He looked to the sky, but only saw a sea of white.
Am I dead? What is this place?
"This is neither heaven or hell," a voice replied that seemed to be all around him. It was a soft, yet a deep, bellowing voice. "You are neither dead or alive at the moment. You are caught in what you might say is a paradoxical purgatory. Your body has shut itself down as a result of your injuries in an attempt to heal itself, but your mind has remained strong."
"So I'm dead," Infinite replied flatly, and his head lowered.
"No, Cero. As I said: you are neither dead or alive, but how you interact here with me may very well determine your destiny."
The jackal raised a curious, but sternly attentive, eye. He hadn't heard that name in a long, long, time, and had shared it with no one. "What did you call me?"
"Cero. That is your true name."
His brow furrowed in rising anger. "How did you come to know that?" he hissed, looking around for the source of the voice. "That name means nothing to me! My name is Infinite!"
"That part of you has died, Cero," the voice continued, "Infinite perished when the ruby separated itself from you. You are now you again whether you want to accept it or not."
"Stop saying that name! Who are you?"
"You should care not for knowing who I am, and care more about why you are here."
"Care about why I'm here? Perhaps I should ask you the same thing."
"No one brought you here but yourself. You are confused, Cero. Your physical state has accepted its fate, but your mind wants you to live for reasons you seem to not want to explain."
He flushed, and an angry flash gleamed in his eyes. "What is this?" he snarled, "Is this some sort of religious intervention? I need none of this! If I am truly dead then so be it! Let me pass on!"
"Why do you want to die, Cero?"
Cero looked about him again, scanning for the source of the voice. "What kind of question is that?" he cried out, his arms outstretched in frustration.
"It is a simple question, Cero," the voice responded softly, yet respectfully. "Why is it you desire death when there are those that feel otherwise?"
The jackal cocked his head, curious. "Those that feel otherwise? What are you talking about?"
"You were rescued, Cero. You were on the brink of death, but you were taken from its grip to be given a chance to live again, and now you desire otherwise?"
"It's my choice. Whomever 'rescued' me is a fool for doing so."
"But why is it your choice?" asked the voice again.
"What does it matter?!" he suddenly yelled out, his fists now clenched tightly. "What does it matter to you whether I die or not? I am nothing to this world that has taken everything from me! I am nothing! I am a hapless nobody; weak, pathetic, and worthless! There, are you satisfied now?! Does that answer your stupid questions?!"
Cero wiped his eyes and crumpled to the ground. "If I'm nothing than that, then what's the purpose of even living?" he softly said.
"Cero," the voice began again after an uncomfortable silence. "Why is it that you feel this way?"
"I'm done playing twenty questions with you, so just shut up."
"Do you not know?"
"Did you not hear me? I said shut up."
"Cero, simply classifying yourself as worthless or weak is not a good enough reason to allow death to come to you, because you continue to fight it."
Cero bolted up and began walking away, as if trying to escape the conversation. "What do you want from me?!" he cried out. "And stop calling me by that damned name!"
"I want the truth, Cero. Your feelings, your memories; they have all been repressed deep in that mind of yours for far too long."
"So what if they are?"
"I see. Perhaps actions instead of words might persuade you to free the troubles from within."
Cero stopped in his tracks as the grass began to rise before him in a confused mass before taking the shape of a bed, then two figures: one in the bed, the other huddled over it. The shapes began to tighten until distinct features of two jackals could be recognized: his mother and father. Lastly, a third, much smaller figure appeared, cradled by the one in the bed.
"What the...? What is this?" Cero stammered, in awe of what he was seeing.
"This is the moment of your birth, Cero," the voice explained, "You were not even supposed to be here, you know. You were a blessed surprise to them because your mother was thought to never be able to bear children, but it was their bond of love that defied the odds and created you."
"Love," Cero snorted, "Love is nothing more than a mere illusion."
"It was no illusion that your parents loved you."
Cero approached his infant self being cradled by his mother, his face softening somewhat before memories began to manifest in his head, and his face suddenly began to harden. "Bah!" he spat, and the scenario in front of him melted to the ground. "This little show means nothing to me!"
"Does it? Cero, if it means nothing to you, then why are reacting to it so negatively?"
Cero grit his teeth, and his eyes began to water. "It means nothing because I never got to know her, okay?! She died when I was far too young to even remember. The only memories I have of her were some pictures and whatever my father decided to tell me when he wasn't..."
He suddenly stopped, and his bottom lip trembled.
"When he wasn't what, Cero? It is okay to tell me."
"You just don't know when to quit, do you?" Cero cried.
"I am only trying to help you."
"I don't need or want your help! I don't need you! I don't need anybody! Why can't you just leave me alone?!"
Silence permeated the space around Cero as he abruptly sat on the ground, drawing his knees up to his face. His eyes were wide as he stared at the grass waving in front of him.
"Cero..." the voice began again.
"I SAID LEAVE ME ALONE!"
"Cero, I know that your father took your mother's death very hard and I know he often blamed both himself and you for it. I know of the drastic measures he took to cope with it as best as he could in his own mind."
Cero felt tears well up in his eyes again, and his head sank downward. He knew all too well of those drastic measures: the drinking, the drugs, the violent fits that often resulted in destroyed items, holes in the walls of their house, broken pictures, and a scar that would forever change his appearance.
"I know about the scar, Cero," the voice continued in an almost apologetic tone. "I understand why you tried to hide it behind the lies."
Cero closed his eyes, tightening his grip on his knees as flashes of the night his life would begin its downward spiral appeared before him like a vicious thunderstorm, having started with a barrage of cursing and hurtful words from his father after he binged on drugs and liquor. Terrified, Cero retreated to a corner of a room, cringing as a crazed wave of broken glass from violently thrown about possessions smashed into the floor and walls close to him. The climax came when Cero's father grabbed him by the neck and jerked him up off of the floor. As a simple act of trying to stop the madness, Cero screamed for him to stop.
He remembered what happened next.
"Don't you dare raise your voice at me, you little bastard!" his father roared, grabbing a broken liquor bottle from a nearby table. "Had it not been for you, she'd still be here today, you pathetic piece of worthless shit!"
White flashed in Cero's eyes as his father swung the bottle toward him, and he envisioned himself back on the floor, sobbing, holding his bleeding eye, pleading. His father, the uncontrollable spasm of anger having faded from his face, sank to the ground, his mouth agape in both shock and agony of what he had done. The bottle, its jagged edges now tainted with his son's innocent blood, slowly rolled free from his open hand. His father stared at it, then his son, and he began sobbing, crying out "What have I done?!" before suddenly reaching for the bottle and dragging the jagged edge across his throat.
"It was never the same after that, was it," the voice said as Cero's back began to heave from the agonizing memory he had tried so hard to push down and simply forget for so long. "Your father was a broken man, Cero, but deep down you know he dearly loved you. It was unfortunate that he could never fully accept your mother's death, and took to finding ways to deal with the pain that took him down a dark road until he was too far gone, and had become an entirely different person; and by the time he had realized that he was not who he used to be, it was too late, for he had already inflicted the pain that could never be retracted. He did what he felt he had to do in that moment, as he knew he could never ask for forgiveness."
"That is a lie, and you know it," Cero said under his folded arms. "He was a coward. He took an easy way out instead of facing the consequences like a man."
"And what consequences do you speak of?"
Cero's hands began to shake, and he quickly stood up. "This!" he screamed, pointing at the scar. "This is what he was too cowardly to face! He put this here, and he would have had to see it for the rest of his life! But, no, he took the easy way out!"
"Do you honestly believe that? If it were as easy as you insinuate, why did he not take your life that night, too? Cero, that man loved you more than you will ever know. You were his son; his only son. The atrocity he committed came from the demons inside that controlled him, and he ensured that they would never have the chance to do it again. He wanted you to live, Cero. That is why he sacrificed himself. He did it to save you. It is an ugly, ugly truth, but it is the truth. It is up to you, now, to accept it or not."
The jackal took his hand and grazed the scar with the back of it, feeling the slight lump. "Truth or not, this is the only memory I'll ever have of him."
"And it is that which led you to lash out at those who tried to help you cope, for you became consumed with anger and vengeance, Cero. You never went to your father's funeral, and you disowned what relatives there were because you were convinced they saw you as the reason for his death when it never was. You were forced into foster care, bouncing from house to house as you could never find solace, shunning every hand that was offered to you as a form of help. Eventually, you ended up on the streets taking to stealing in order to survive before leaving town once the options ran out as the authorities closed in on you. You caught the attention of a local crime lord after his associates witnessed your burgling techniques, enticing you to join him with more money that you had ever seen, despite it being a mere drop in the bucket for him. You were tasked with obtaining certain items for him, being compensated for your efforts. But as the tasks became increasingly difficult, you sought out training to defend against those who tried to stop you, becoming adept with using a blade as your weapon of choice. At some point, you started to enjoy inflicting pain upon those defending the items you were trying to steal, as seeing their blood spilled brought an unusual satisfaction to you. You never killed anyone, but you took great joy in seeing others becoming fearful of you, as did your boss. As you became older, he took you in as if you were a son of his own, entrusting you. But all that would change on one particular assignment, and you know what I speak of, Cero."
Cero's eyes widened. He knew.
End Chapter 1
Chapter 2 will be here soon.
