Chapter 2 – Tornado
Six months ago
A blue streak burst through the door of the workshop with a massive rush of wind, windows rattling and papers and loose items blowing about in its wake as it skidded to a halt in the middle of the shop floor. Sonic's uncle, Charles Hedgehog, didn't even look up as he calmly caught his paperwork before it could flutter away, and sighed softly.
Sonic ducked his head, ears flattened back, and had the grace to look sheepish as he looked around at the chaos he'd caused. Again. "Sorry, Uncle Chuck," he mumbled, and dutifully began to collect blueprints and wood scraps from where they'd scattered about.
His uncle didn't answer for a while, leaving Sonic to clean in silence while the older hedgehog finished updating the shop ledger. Sonic's sneakers scraped softly on the hard stone floor, accompanied only by the soothing hum of an engine—one of Chuck's projects—elsewhere in the workspace.
A few last lines, then Uncle Chuck closed his ledger and set it back on its shelf—underneath a chunk of metal to keep it from blowing around, just in case—then turned to look at his nephew. Sonic was doing his best to stack papers neatly, ears still flat, not looking at his uncle. He knew better, after all, than to run into the shop at speed.
"Some of the villagers came to talk to me again today," Chuck finally said softly.
Sonic ducked his head further, shoulders hunched, and said nothing. Obviously it wasn't about work.
The older hedgehog stood and began helping his nephew clean up the scattered items. Sonic mumbled something that might have been thanks.
"I think you need a better outlet for your enthusiasm," Uncle Chuck continued. "This island is just too small."
Sonic glanced up at his uncle in confusion, ears perking up slightly. This wasn't going quite the way he expected.
Uncle Chuck placed the last of the loose papers back on his workbench, then gestured for Sonic to follow him. The young hedgehog trotted out through the back door of the workshop after his uncle, now thoroughly bewildered. He'd been expecting another lecture on watching his speed in the village, or perhaps news that he'd ruined another villager's fresh washing or trashed their garden or something on one of his laps around the hamlet.
Sonic's uncle led him out into the overgrown field behind the workshop and its adjacent hut, well-worn boots swishing through waist-high weeds, silver-blue quills and shaggy mustache stirring in the spring breeze. The pair wove between old wagons and junked engines, half-rusted pumps and coils of tubing, before reaching one larger, canvas-covered shape. Sonic's eyes widened as he realized what it was.
Chuck pulled the tarpaulin away, revealing a battered old biplane underneath. The cherry-red paint was flaking away in places, revealing the weather-worn steel of the frame, but Sonic knew it was still in reasonably good condition. He'd seen his uncle out here many times, tuning the old machine.
"The Tornado," Uncle Chuck said, though the plane needed no introduction.
Sonic reached out to touch the fuselage, fingers trailing along the stenciled letters that spelled out the machine's name.
"It's yours."
The young hedgehog started in surprise, turning to stare at his uncle, mouth agape. "Wh...what?"
Uncle Chuck raised one gloved finger. "On the condition that you not buzz the town."
"But..." Sonic couldn't seem to get his brain to work.
"I told you," his uncle said, moving around the side of the biplane, "you need a better outlet. Something bigger than this island. How about the world?" The older hedgehog grinned at his nephew, dark eyes showing a hint of adventure.
"You mean it?" Sonic clambered up the side to inspect the pilot's seat.
Chuck leaned his elbows on one of the wings. "I mean it, Sonny. All yours. You're only a bit younger than I was when I left home the first time."
Sonic nodded absently, lifting the panel in the back that concealed a jump seat and storage space. Uncle Chuck chuckled softly at the boy's enthusiasm.
"Come on," he finally said, "let me show you how to take care of her."