Work Text
◊×◊×◊×◊· Thursday ·◊×◊×◊×◊
Breathing in, looking down.He stands over the counter with a radiant blue glow, hands in his pockets, and a voice soft yet overpowering. People of all shades stare eagerly at the man as he lists his order with the smooth confidence he never lets down.Breathing out, eyes darting.The chances a woman like myself would ever be in the mere vicinity of someone of this caliber, someone of this importance, could never be lower. A woman who cannot stay in a lousy apartment without one-night stands of monetary love and trips to an amateur film studio of dubious nature. Two opposite worlds of civility; one is a respected man of altruism and bravery and the other is a depraved woman of obedience and debauchery.Yet, here I am, standing behind one of the most beloved men to ever live and, honestly, would ever live.Swallowing, coughing.The older male finishes his order—Order 223, I overhear—and steps aside to the pick-up counter. Although the cashier was more than willing to put his order on the house, the hedgehog slips his wallet back into his red jogging pants, still listening to whatever song escapes his earbuds into his pointed ears.And, for some reason, I catch the hero giving a covert wink at me as I step to where he just was. And, for some reason, I stay speechless as the rabbit in front of me calls for the attention of a stupid lemur with a gaping mouth and a racing mind.Sonic the Hedgehog just acknowledged me.“Ma’am, you're going to have to move out of the way if—”“Move out of—?” I finally snap back to reality. “Oh, uh, I… May I have a tall… hot, uh light frappuccino, please…”To the left of my peripheral vision, I see him smirking slightly, laying his left arm on the counter and his fist under his cheek. It seems like his green eyes are rapid-firing daggers at me, yet I stare on, ignoring him, for no particularly good reason, like many of the other choices I make.Order 223 is called and the hedgehog leaves with a coffee, a brown bag, and a continuous smirk.With my luck, that would be the last time our paths cross.
◊×◊×◊×◊· Friday ·◊×◊×◊×◊
Last night felt empty. Not good, not even for the fleeting moment that comes as fast as it’s gone.He lays next to me, some weasel who barely understands what “enticement” means, filling his room with choked snores and the smell of cigarettes. I lay away from him, avoiding the disgusting smell and trying to forget the disgusting taste he forced upon me some hours ago. I hated the taste and smell and snores and fact he kept me here overnight… for whatever reason. While I'm getting cash for this, sometimes I wonder if the money is even worth it.I find myself on my feet at the edge of the bed, staring off into the disappearing blackness beyond a single broken window in his mess of a room. Distant stars slowly fade into hues of blue, red, and violet, moving aside for the most radiant of them all, not to return until the sun sets from the limelight, leaving total darkness for the moon and stars to handle… I'm being melodramatic again. I gotta get out of here.My tail of four feet and far more (that the weasel had to constantly remind me was a persistent annoyance during what he believed was “our moment”) pushes me off of the bed and onto a dirty, wet pile of clothes. I pick up whatever is mine and begin to leave. The smell is just too bad and I think I'm going crazy.Downstairs, I find his wallet on his dining room table. Is it stealing if it's technically mine? Should I really anger this guy? No, maybe I shouldn't, but I take $190 anyway and leave out the front door. Who carries that much cash these days anyway?Seventeen minutes later I'm at my apartment, tip-toeing up metal stairs and opening the door to apartment D6. I hate the barely furnished rooms and the greasy walls and the never-ending smell of piss. I throw my dirty clothes on the stained carpet and then shuffle from the living room into the kitchen which is barely a kitchen and is just an extension of the living room. I hold my head as to beg this splitting headache to leave me alone, before opening a travel container of several pills and putting them in my hand. I take a small water bottle out of the fridge and look at the time over my barely-functional stove as I chug my pills down.5:42 AM.After letting out a hoarse sigh, I take a brisk shower. I barely shiver under the ice-cold water as it races down my mess of short light blue hair to my huge dark grey feet. I dry myself while brushing my crooked teeth and slowly put on my undergarments, covering my only tickets to any monetary gain other than my face. I lay over on the four cushioned seats that I call a couch and turn on the television to watch the local news, given by an adorable gray raccoon and a handsome violet hedgehog who both barely look over twenty years old.The girl begins. “Dr. Eggman thwarted again after Sonic and company defeat his army of robots in the east end of Metropolis—”To think someone like that even acknowledged me is astounding. He’s basically a regular on the news.“Here’s a local on the attack last night.” The station changes shots to a male cat with a permanent look of surprise on his face.“Sonic just swooped in and—boom! That fast, everythin’ was gone and that big guy was knocked out or somethin’. I’ll never forget it…”It transitions to the violet hedgehog, who begins to speak. “As you may remember, Eggman inflicted a similar attack last week in Metropolis, where a robot that resembled the renowned hero began to destroy several buildings in the downtown area…”“There is no telling what or when the mad scientist’s next attack will be, but we can safely assume that Metropolians should be prepared, attentive, and vigilant…”I glance at the time again, noticing that it’s 6:18 AM and much lighter outside.Time for my morning walk.
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Twenty minutes have passed since I left my house and I’m almost at my favorite market downtown, where my friend works at. I forgot that I needed to go shopping today, since I do so every other Friday for worthwhile deals, and, with the little amount I have after setting aside for bills and whatnot, I guess I need to get something for the day. After all, maybe eating only two apples, a ham, egg, and cheese sandwich, and a frappuccino for two days isn’t the best idea for someone whose stomach barely wants to let her know she’s hungry.As I approach a steep downhill slope, the coffee shop from yesterday passes by me. I couldn’t help but catch a glance since 6:30 AM was about the time I went there yesterday, and I wanted to see if a certain hedgehog was inside, sending women hidden messages and ordering a coffee lighter than his perfect skin.Of course he isn’t.That was most likely a rare moment since the hedgehog lives in the small, more "rural" side of Station Square. It’s in a bordering state, and who regulars a coffee shop from another state? I’m too optimistic.I walk some more until I get to the market, immediately noticing something different.Police cars surround the area.I mean, I saw two police cars drive by while walking down the street not too long ago. However, another store along the street cleverly hid the market that is across the road. Now I can see where they're going, and it’s the place my best friend is currently working at.I step beside another person who watches on the sidewalk across.“Wh-What happened?” I ask. I turn to the market.“There was this huge blue light inside, then nothing, nobody,” he mutters.“Nobody?”“Yeah,” the reptile says with clear fear in his eyes. “I went in there to check that shit out. I smelled somethin’ terrible in that damn market. Like a bunch of burnt, dead bodies. Had to call the police because it was not right, at all. It made me fuckin’ puke. They came just now, like two minutes ago.”“Do… you think Sonic will be here?” I ask a stupid, out-of-nowhere question. I should be asking for my friend. I cough.“I dunno,” the man shrugs. “This some crazy shit, though, so maybe he will.”I look up, staring blankly at the small building that only accompanies the noises of police murmurs and radio emissions. Silence and emptiness, he says. My friend was in there.Police walk up to us, who are now joined by seven other watchers, and tell most of us to leave the premises. I tell them my friend Sticks is working there. The wolf I tell that to is silent. I stare on and avoid piecing it together as they push us away and I struggle to breathe.I look ahead and see a white aircraft quietly descend onto the parking lot that police are trying to block off. A small, yellow fox with twin tails and a pink hedgehog with a dress too short for her body slide off of the plane's seats and glide down on the pavement. A certain blue hedgehog follows, immediately throwing himself off the aircraft’s left wing. He talks to the police for a moment and… What the…He looked at me, gorgeous green orbs straight into my shit-purple eyes, for a solid two seconds, and then back at the police.Sonic the Hedgehog acknowledged me… again.He motions to the other two to stay back as the police over there leads him inside and the police over here leads me away. He left the building with a hand covering a distraught face as if the smell was the most unbearable thing he's ever breathed in.Forget the groceries. I have to go to work.I… have to go to work.
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My cubicle smells of new printer paper and whatever Stacy the Hyperactive Kitten is having next to me. Something like microwaved chicken ramen with too much hot sauce for a kitty like her. Y'know, with a life of broken senses, I can at least say that my sense of smell is one of my strong points—... No. Stop it.Everyone seems to be enamored with their phones, watching breaking news about twenty-two people who were suddenly incinerated in a small family market with no obvious cause. The place reeks of burnt blood and scorched skin, people say.And here I am, distracted by noodle soup.At least I texted Sticks, who, as the luckiest person alive, switched shifts with a friend for an event that morning. She's a superstitious person with unkempt fur and tarot cards in her pockets. Maybe she just knew. She usually just knows things.I pull out my phone and watch as Sonic tells the news that he and his team of friends will get to the bottom of the massacre. People think it's Eggman. It could be. But he still warns that there could be other suspects. We do live in a world of animals with powerful abilities and emotional issues. Or maybe that's just in comics.I turn off my phone after replying to an uncomfortable text from a green, misogynistic woodpecker. The things I will do for money.I continue to waste my life away on a keyboard and a phone with a screaming inbred. He blames me for what the Rose Company can't do. It's not my fault you spent money on that purple dress with plastic sequins and a giant tear for $765. His voice is very loud and full of rage. I tell him to be quiet. He starts to call me names. Instead of just calmly hanging up the phone, I lose it, call him a "sorry mistake", and then hang up the phone. The yelling was too much and I like my ears too much and I hate this job too much. Breathing in, breathing out. I am surprised by that rant since I never thought I can get that angry. If you can even call that "angry".I get called down to the office of my manager immediately after. I walk in and see the familiar purple chameleon who hates everyone equally but equally hates me more. He recites his policy of three chances and how I blew them all and how disappointed he is and how I need to be more careful and how I need to overcome the mental illness he swears I have just because I act “different”. I quit. I hate the smell of Stacy’s stupid salty soup anyway.I leave with a near-empty box of belongings and a few goodbyes. I stare at my box throughout the entire building—through the endless rows of cubicles, down the musty flights of stairs, past the group of stuck-up fashion connoisseurs who all do nothing but gossip with each other—and now I'm outside the doors that trapped me in purgatory. Outside of a tall glass building in the middle of the city with no car and nobody to call. Sticks is still busy. Busy with something more important than whatever I have to do.I decide to walk to the coffee shop about a mile away and possibly get the cheapest thing there, now that my bills are dependent on random illegal services that don't pay nearly enough for someone living in any part of Metropolis. I don't see myself staying here for long. Starvation or an eviction notice will claim me first.I finally get into the small green building and throw my box under an unclean table. I sit there, facing the door, with an empty mind for about ten minutes, trying to cause broken eyes to let my stress and emptiness and frustration and sadness out in the form of tears.... Nothing.Out of nowhere, I hear screams outside the window next to me. I look up and to my right for whatever is causing them, only to learn that these aren't screams of terror, since, instead, they're screams of admiration. I stare on and see mobian girls jumping up and down with glee.I glance in front of me as a greeting bell rings above my head.Passing by is a beautiful blue hedgehog who most definitely shouldn't be here. He glances at me as he struts in deep red sweats, with a smile that can cure depression. He continues to the small line, ignoring people who offer their place and turning away from me. He gets to the counter finally—I've been mindlessly staring this entire time—and he leaves it with two coffee cups in each hand.The hedgehog passes by me and is almost through the door, up until he suddenly turns to his right, as if it was what he was planning on doing that entire time.I swallow and look down, not believing what is happening right in front of me.Sonic the Hedgehog is at my table.He empties out his left hand to place a tall coffee cup with “Sonic” written hastily on its side. On my table. I'm frozen. I breathe in, cough, breathe out.I finally look up to the hedgehog in front of me, who now brings gazes to my attention, including ones from paparazzi who just want a sleazy story for their hungry nosiness or fans who have nothing better to do.“You looked kinda down, so I got you a tall… hot, uh light frappuccino.” He's mocking me. I think he's joking. I'm bad at this.“Thanks.” That is all my stupid mouth is able to say. I pull the cup towards me. “D-Did… you… uh, know I was here?” I ask before clearing my throat.“Well…” He is quiet for a second, then continues.“Really, no,” Sonic swirls his cup. “This place has the best coffee in the tri-state area, that's all.” He ends his statement with an inflection that could raise eyebrows. How exactly does he know I'm here?He smiles and it's annoyingly distracting. It seems like the sun is focusing all of its rays on his perfect white teeth. It's blindingly beautiful. How cliché. The older mobian sips his coffee that should be too hot for consumption. I breathe in.“Anyway… Tangle, was it?”How does he know my name? I breathe out.“Yes, but… I hate that name,” I say something stupid and out-of-nowhere.“I think it's pretty cool,” he says a little quieter, looking out of the giant dirty window to his left. I stay silent and he turns back. “Well, gotta go now. Ask Sticks how she's doing for me, ‘kay?”“You know her?”He's silent for a second, then speaks. “There was this huge thing that happened some days ago. She helped us out big-time. My lawyers put a… silence agreement thingy on her, though. Pretty secret stuff.” He sips his coffee and winks. “Don't tell her I said a thing, ‘aight?”As if she'd believe I spoke to Sonic the Hedgehog at my table in this coffee shop in this city in my lifetime… Wait, she knows Sonic? And told him about me!?“Do you… know me through her?” I manage to ask.He gives me half-lidded eyes and a smile behind a coffee cup. He shrugs. “More or less.”Sonic turns around with a continued smile as if he's cheesing for the camera. And just like that he's out the door and gone.As the sun sets to my right, ending one of the strangest days I've ever experienced, ecstatic fans stand next to my table and ask for a useless autograph. Who knew so many people liked the name Tangle?
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◊×◊×◊×◊· Saturday ·◊×◊×◊×◊
Last night was terrible. Not good at all, not even for the fleeting moment that comes as fast as it’s gone. No, I'm wrong. I didn't even experience that last night.I wake myself up from painful grogginess and backside aches. The beaked jerk-off dug his nails into my back as deep as he could and showed no remorse or carefulness to me or my behind. He used me like a toy, not another mobian being. I think he was angry. Or maybe it’s just in the job description.This one wakes up quite early for work, unlike another one of my clients, and left my payment on the desk next to me. How so nice of him. I take it and my stuff and leave for a three-mile journey back home.After what felt like forever, I limp up the rusting stairs of the building, to my room door, and down the hallway. This place is a mess. Should I thoroughly clean it now or just wait for the impending eviction notice to arrive? Maybe I should stay at Sticks’s when that happens, even if her house reeks of cheese and a hippie’s dreams… In fact, maybe I shouldn't.I wash the small pile of week-old dishes in the sink before I take a vehemently cold shower. I decide to finish what the bird couldn't do last night. It's insane how bad someone can be at something.I put on my clothes and head out of the door for my morning walk. I run down the five flights of stairs that separate my home and the outside world before stopping at my mailbox. I haven't checked it for about a week, avoiding any more stress life could possibly curveball at me. For some reason, however, I suddenly feel the need to empty it, possibly because my body is remembering that it's housing a 22-year-old adult with responsibilities. I open my mailbox-locker-thing and reveal the newly freed items.Magazine. Scam. Throw-away. Credit card I definitely don't need. Magazine. Not mine. Magazine.Eh, why did I expect anything—?Suddenly, I feel a light tap on my shoulder. I rushingly turn around to find a familiar badger standing in front of me with hands behind her back and a smile larger and brighter than the sun.“S-Sticks!?”“Hiya Tang Tang!” She hugs me. But I’m very, very confused.“Sticks—? Isn’t the police questioning witnesses?”“They sure are,” Sticks answers with a smile, putting her hands—and whatever is in them—behind her again. “They asked me some stuff but let me go since I wasn't actually there.”“Oh…” I'm still confused. I see I... don't actually know how this stuff works. Not only that, her coworkers suddenly evaporated yesterday morning, but she's being her normal, cheery, talkative self as if it had never happened. Sometimes I wonder if she's sociopathic.“Where ya goin’, Tang Tang?” Sticks asks. “Doin’ that dangerous walk of yours?”I groan. Here she goes again.“Somethin’ bad can happen to ya, y’know. Some robot attack can happen, or maybe some weirdo can feel extra grabby today, or maybe you can get vaporized outta nowhere! Not only that, you’re also always going here and going there without eating a single thing…”She promptly reveals a reusable bag from behind her. She powers through it and points a footlong sub toward my face.“Let's walk an’ eat together,” Sticks says with a smile. "Now!"Usually, saying no to Sticks is a death trap, so I take her unwanted gift and follow her down my usual route.Metropolis is made up of long noisy strips of towering skyscrapers and vendors selling nothing of importance. Except for maybe food, something I've been ignoring for a while, until now I guess. Anyway, these same people selling the same stuff and yelling the same prices just add to the monotony—and not the excitement that so many people believe—of this loud city. Wait until they come and smell the sweet stench of piss in the air. How's that for exciting?We finally arrive downtown and stroll through slower than I usually do. Sticks rambles on about consumerism and conspiracy theories throughout the way, talking so much that she forgot there was a sandwich in her hand. She finally opens it and continues with globs of vegetarian footlong in her mouth—wait no, the sandwich actually has ham, so she only survived twelve days—and devours the thing in under four minutes. Incredible.We approach the Rose Company skyscraper I was fired at, but a familiar, gut-wrenching scene surrounds the area and abruptly stops us in our tracks:Police cars, broadcast vans, an ambulance, police tape, and a crowd all gather around the building in a mix of confused horror and curious anticipation.“Isn't… this the place you work at?” Sticks speaks to me with eyes glued on the scene.I barely spew out my answer. “I… I was fired, but—”“C’mon,” Sticks grabs my hand and drags me closer to the scene. Police push the noisy crowd back as other mobians in blue stand in front of the double doors, holding their noses. Some of them are even passed out on the ground.And I quickly find out why, because as we get closer and closer, an atrocious stench gets worse and worse. We shuffle through the crowd and the smell of burnt flesh is more than unbearable.“Sticks, the smell…” I pull my hand away and place it over my nose.“I barely smell anything,” Sticks says. “It's like overcooked beef or something.” She has a crap sense of smell, even though she's a badger.“No…” I say, staring at a familiar white aircraft descending inside police tape, letting off the same three famous mobians from earlier. We are so close to the building that I feel a small rush of wind from the deployed plane. “This… smells like death.”I watch Sonic speak to some officers on the scene and glance at the group of watchers, including Sticks and me. Police begin to move us away again.“I think I know what's happening here, Tang Tang,” Sticks loudly whispers to me. “I know exactly what's happening…”... What? What is she on about now ?
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I lay on my makeshift couch with a thick sketchbook full of ugly fashion designs under my head. The only outfit I even remotely like is a yellow crop top over a black jumpsuit with orange stripes along the sides, and a cool pair of yellow shoes to top it all off. I can see myself in it.Sticks is sitting beside my feet, reading breaking news articles and mouthing short bursts of surprise. Four-hundred-and-six people, gone from the Rose Company’s Metropolis division at 7:06 AM, just like that. If it wasn't for the screaming inbred, it would've been 407 people. So I thank him, I guess.I watch more of what's on in front of me, which is an over-edited cooking show with a bald judge who's too mean for comfort. He's not even a chef. I love him.Sticks watches more short clips of news reporters describing the scene, interviewing Rose Company representatives, and speculating if Metropolis will issue an evacuation warning in the near future. She picks up the remote I balanced on my hip and shuts off the television.“Are you seriously watching that while this is happening?” Sticks asks and drops the controller on the carpet.“What else am I supposed to do?”“I-I dunno, you don't feel it's a teeny bit inappropriate?”“Why?”“Wh-Why? Y'know why! You’re watchin’ some stupid cookin’ show after four hundred people disappeared in seconds! And you could've been one of ‘em!” Sticks raises her voice. “Isn't it even a bit scary? How about your coworkers?”“Earlier, you acted the same way,” I argue while sitting up. “All happy and giddy after your coworkers disappeared.”Sticks is silent for a moment, but then looks away. “Well… they… I barely knew them. And—” Sticks sighs. “It’s not about me, it’s about you—”“Yeah, no,” I say and lay back down.We sit in a short bit of silence—which probably lasted about four minutes—until Sticks speaks up again.“You bum me out sometimes, you know.”“I told you being friends with me was a bad idea.” I move my knees to my chest.Sticks sighs and says, “It wasn’t. At all.”“Oh, right. You were my friend before I became a retar—”“Dude!” Sticks hollers in annoyance. “You didn't! You just… just—”“Changed,” I quickly hiss and close my eyes. “I completely changed and those first couple of weeks made me realize just how much of a letdown new Tangle is. My brain changed for the worse. So I became a re—”“You're not a damn letdown, Tang Tang! Or the r-word. That's a shitty thing to say—” Sticks lets out a quick sigh. “That-That word is terrible and doesn't apply to you, o-or anyone for that matter. You're great to have as a friend and I wouldn't change a thing.”Sticks is up from the couch by now—or so I feel since my eyes are shut—obviously angered by the chat that I was probably too pouty in. She continues.“And that's why I have to tell you something important because you might be in grave danger!”Grave danger? Me? I open my eyes to caution myself through whatever craziness she's about to throw my way. “What are you on about?”“Think about it. This disappearin’ mess. It has to be connected to you!” Sticks says as she paces in front of the “couch”.I shoot up from my position and blink. “You… You can't be serious.”“I am, 100%,” Sticks confidently answers. “The fact that you go to the market every other Friday at about 6:40, and then to work at about 7:00, and then the peeps disappeared around those times completely proves it. It has to—”“Yeah, uh-huh,” I sarcastically say, now getting pretty bothered by Sticks. “Because no one else in the entirety of Metropolis can have a similar routine.”“But—”“And this murderer wouldn't just kill me in my home, alone, despite the fact he obviously has the tools to do so.”“Oh, come on,” Sticks looks at the ceiling in annoyance. “That’d be too obvious. Maybe they don't want us to know. Or maybe they don't know where you live.”“If he knows my routine, then he'd know where I live,” I say.“Again, too obvious. Maybe they want to get as many casualties as possible, including you. Maybe they're like a yandere or something. Or perhaps this person has a strict code of honor?”I roll my eyes and roll myself back on my couch. “Let it go, Sticks. It's unreasonable.”“I don't know,” Sticks crosses her arms. “It's reasonable to me.”“I'm just… going to go nap, alright?” I say with eyes open, getting snuggly on my stack of unfinished sketches.“Oh,” Sticks’s places a hand on her forehead and another in the air, raising its pointer finger. “Uhm…”“What is it now?”Sticks lowers her hands and glances at her phone. “Well, you… can't do that just yet—”“And that's because…?” I slowly rise up, letting my body’s weight rest on my right arm.“Well I—” Sticks scratches her head. “I invited a friend… for something…”Wait. She invited one of her friends here? In this mess of an apartment? Well, to be honest, they probably don't live in any greater conditions either, but I'd still rather Sticks not invite random people to my dirty and cramped home without asking on such short notice. She does insane things, but this is just rude.“Why would you do that?”“Well I… Asked him to come for a lead… on the case…”I squint my left eye. For a lead… on the case? What, one of her friends is some sort of detective? Is she friends with a hero—?That's when I feel my heart thump at a name that flashed in my head. One that I'm hoping doesn't come out of her mouth. I ask anyway:“Who exactly…?”Sticks dryly chuckles as she refuses to look into my eyes. “Ah, nobody, y’know…“Just… uh, Sonic the Hedgehog.”
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“You asked Sonic to come here for no reason!? ” I yell at a panicked Sticks and shoot up from my couch.“Hahaa, of course not… As if I… even know Sonic. Pfft. I'm pulling your leg…” Sticks tries to cover up her statement as she texts her phone, probably to the person who's, most likely, already heading out the door.“No, you do,” I say. “I… know you do.”“E? I mean, uh,” Sticks tries to speak more confidently. “Th-That's funny! I thought you didn't know how to joke around!”“You're right, I don't,” I respond, prompting her to look up from her device. “Because, believe it or not, he showed up at the coffee shop again to let me know that you told him about me. And you didn't let me know, or ask if that was cool, or even thought about what you say for once in your life. Ah, right, because they shut you up.”“Oh, ha, what?” Sticks tries to cover her face with her phone as I step closer. “You know Sonic? How… uh, unbelievable. I wish I could meet him—”“ Sticks! ” I'm beginning to get paranoid. Is she being serious?“How did you meet him? I mean, not that I have—”“ Sticks—! ”“I'm texting him, I'm texting him!” Sticks yells over me.“Sticks, do I look like— Does my house— Do… Do you think I feel like meeting someone like… like— Ugh!” I stomp around and grab my head. “Tell him! Tell him to go away!”“Fine! But we— Or, uh, I mean,” Sticks shakes her head and continues typing. “The thing is, do ya really think somebody like that would even come— ?”A jingle of knocks plays on my door.It freezes me in place, and, for a short while, we are silent enough to only hear our synchronized breaths and cars driving in the distance. Both Sticks and I stand in place, staring at the door, until my friend frantically turns to me and whispers:“Clean up, I'll be back.”I want to protest so badly, but my body refuses my mouth to spout a word and does what it was told. Sticks opens the front door enough for only her body to slip through and closes it, while I pick up cups, clothes, snack boxes, and other junk and throw them wherever necessary. Now that my living-room-kitchen-dining-room-hybrid is clean enough, thanks to some help from my underused tail, I rush to the bathroom to wash my face and do something with my hair. I walk out, in a stained black t-shirt and lady-boxers, thinking about how insane the situation is and—Sticks is sitting at my dirty, dingy dining table.With Sonic the Hedgehog. Himself. At my dirty, dingy dining table.Staring at a dirty, dingy lemur.“Hey,” Sonic greet me and waves, with a friendly but noticeably uncomfortable face. “Uh, if you're not cool with me being here, I can lea—”I mutter, “No, uh, I mean—”“I have a lead,” Sticks chimes in, “and it has something to do with Tang—”I shout through clenched teeth, “Y-You don't have a lead!” Sonic shuffles in his seat and fixes a messenger bag he's carrying.“Buddy! At least let me tell ‘im what I think,” she tells me. I shut my eyes, sigh and rush towards my room to put on a clean, yellow shirt and basic gray sweatpants.Sticks continues, telling the hedgehog everything she speculated earlier. I walk back out, twiddling my thumbs and staring at the ground. How else is someone like me supposed to act around… Sonic the freaking Hedgehog ? I need to get Sonic something to drink. Or eat. Or something.So I go to the kitchen—which is just behind the tiny dining table from where I stood—as Sticks finishes her nonsensical theory.“... and that's what I know,” Sticks crosses her arms. “The timing is too perfect, unless you can find other peeps with Tang’s routine. But she's a unique lady, Sonic. Trust me.”I turn back to Sonic to ask if he wanted something—I can't believe that's even a thought on my head—and I find this look on his face that perfectly encapsulates how I feel about Sticks’s “lead”.“Huh,” Sonic says before I could open my mouth. “I’d say it’s probably too early to guess that, since this disappearing thing only happened twice now—”“I told you, Sticks, it’s just too nonsens—”“—but it’s a possibility, for sure,” Sonic finished.I hear an excited gasp from Sticks. She then grins ear to ear and promptly exclaims, “Finally someone who trusts me!”I stand at my fridge with the door open and all of its coldness leaking out into the warm spring air. I stare back at the blue hedgehog who just agreed with Sticks, the badger who might be right some times but definitely has a screw or two loose somewhere. Or… Or maybe I do?“I mean, anything is possible at this point,” Sonic ponders, arms now crossed and eyes wandering between Sticks and me. “We just ruled out Egghead…”I grab an empty cheap pitcher and a few ice cubes from an empty cheap freezer. Sticks quickly asks, “What, why would you rule out that guy?”“We were battling when the second incident happened,” Sonic begins to inform us. “He was in the middle of monologuing about this and that at the time of the Rose Company disappearance. Knowing him, he would've said somethin’ before the attack. ‘Sides, Amy getting the news that something was up even took Egghead by surprise.”I finish pouring two glasses of ice-cold water and place it in front of my unwanted guests. Sonic nods at me as thanks and they continue.“Still doesn't rule him out,” Sticks says. “Acting. Clones. Specially-designed robotic creations of destruction! It's endless. It's Robotnik's doing!”“Eh,” Sonic looks down at his phone. “Trust me. It's not him.”I watch him text someone rather quickly. I ask two rather idiotic questions: “Why are you here again? Shouldn't you be out there saving lives?”Sonic looks up at me and smiles. He finds my questions amusing. Who wouldn't?“That's kinda what I'm doing,” Sonic replies matter-of-factly, chugs half of his water, and continues. “Any information is valuable right now and Sticks has a lead. Not only that…” His words trails off as he shuffles through his bag. He pulls out two small, weird disc-shaped things with the Sonic Team logo on them. “... these are for the both of you.”“Communicators!” Sticks yelps, launches from her seat and take hers. “He's asking us to help, Tang Tang!”He's asking me to WHAT?“I’m s-sorry, Sonic, but…” I try to say as sternly as currently possible. “What?”Sonic slowly pulls “my” communicator towards himself. “Wanted to know if you wanted to help out near HQ. You can—”“I’m sorry, but n-no… no way,” I sternly interrupt. “I’m not a hero.”Sonic’s silent for a moment, but keeps eye contact. He seems disappointed. He holds the communicator to my front again.“There’s housing near HQ in Station Square… I don’t want you at the wrong place at the wrong time, and I have a plan.”I keep my hands away from the object, waiting for his explanation.“Trust me, Tangle,” he persists, now donning a serious look. “If we see nothing while you're there—since this guy is avoiding you but not everyone around you for some reason—then we can definitely confirm Sticks’s theory and find out a way to keep the casualties from growing any more.”I take my gaze from his face and shift it towards the disc five inches from my chest. Is he seriously considering Sticks’s theory, over two coincidences? Can they even be considered coincidences? Besides, I vowed to take care of myself and reject a handout like a house. I can’t—“Tangle,” Sticks says. She said my actual name. “This is all just in case. If I’m wrong, you don’t die on your way around the city. If I’m right, other people don’t die on your way around the city. You even get a house in the process! It’s a win-win-win in my book.”I breathe in, breathe out and think for a moment. Sonic is just being more safe than sorry, is he? Sticks had to pitch an idiotic idea and now he’s trying to do his job—save lives. I sigh and just take it. My life will be back to shit after this mess in no time.“Well, I better get goin’. I got a ton of stuff to do,” Sonic announces while standing up and stretching his arms. He points at us. “When do you want the ride to come by?”Before I can even process the question, Sticks shouts, “At 3!” That’s in five hours.“Alright.” Sonic pushes in his chair and drinks the rest of his water. He speaks again.“It's way too dangerous to live here right now, anyway,” he says while bending down for his bag and hanging it over his head and on his left shoulder. He lets his long quills free from the strap.Sonic starts to walk towards the front door but stops before leaving and turns to us.“Just… Just be safe until the ride gets here, alright, you two?” Sonic says in a soft, basically-motherly voice. “I wished Metropolis listened to me and issued an evacuation order already. There's been too many lives lost by now.”“I mean, money-hungry corporations and government officials run this place, Sonic,” Sticks spouts.“Guess so,” Sonic barely smiles and shrugs. That's all you can do when Sticks talks about that stuff. Though, I feel like Sonic probably agrees. He gives me hippie vibes.Sonic the Hedgehog heads out the door and finally leaves in a sonic boom. The same hedgehog who appears on the news every single day. The same hedgehog who saved the world several times and more. The same hedgehog who’s the symbol of hope and the defender of justice.And he’s concerned for a prostitute.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
I thankfully didn't book anyone for the night, now that I'm in another state entirely.Station Square is much like Metropolis… just more clean, way more technologically advanced, and exceptionally more wealthy. So… maybe not that similar, but it's still a large city full of clueless tourists and extremely expensive housing.I look out of the car Sticks and I are getting escorted in, watching as company logos pass by in a blur, now that we're no longer stuck in traffic and getting a tad closer to residency than the city. Thankfully our driver is a patient one, meaning a lack of loud cursing and unnecessary road rage, and she even pointed out some important places we ought to know. One of them was a middle school her 13-year-old daughter gets straight A’s in. How sweet.And in the middle of the neighborhood is a familiar sight: a long indigo building with an oversized parking lot entrance and dozens of mobians leaving, entering, loitering, and tourist-ing. This building is where the most important decisions between the most important people of our time are agreed upon, and it’s, of course, open to the public. We’re stopping in front of Sonic Team Headquarters, here to momentarily gawk at the landmark around us and drop Sticks off.I wave goodbye to my friend and we eventually leave, heading off to the house I am supposed to stay in. It's not far from the HQ—as Sonic pointed out—and there are only about three turns the driver has to make before arriving there.Of course, the house is something I would never afford: a two-story modern house fit with an actual patio and a nicely maintained garden in the center a small circular driveway. It was quite far from the other houses, but not so far that countless miles is between me and civilization. It sat above the others on a hill, looking down upon the entire city, as if this house felt that everything else was too pathetic for it.I get out of the car with my half-empty suitcase. I turn back around towards the driver.“I’m sorry, but the most change I have is—”She cuts me off, probably by accident. “Oh, no no no… There is no need to tip me, dear. This is the very least I can do for Sonic, after everything he's done for me and my daughter Cream.”Well, you're not driving Sonic, you're driving me. I cough.“I gave you my number, so if you ever need to go somewhere, please call me,” the mother softly lets out. She waves with a calm smile and circles away.I stand on the path to my temporary front door, staring at the car until it disappears out of the perceivable distance. I face the house again, sigh, and march on. I climb up the four smooth, wooden steps painted a shiny gray, step in front of the door, painted light blue beside stark white walls, and grab the afore-gifted communicator that conveniently housed keys. I stick them in and—Suddenly, the door handle moves on its own and the opening reveals a man on the other side. His enthusiastic emerald eyes meet my vapid violet ones.“Wha—? Wh-What are you doing here?” I wonder.The hedgehog answers smugly, “Thought you’d want a lil’ house tour.”I instinctively squint my eyes. “A-Aren’t you busy with… something ?”“Well, when you can get to any meeting, anywhere in the world, thirty seconds before it starts, you would find a lotta free time on your hands,” Sonic speaks while moving his right hand and resting his left shoulder against the door frame. “Don’t gotta bother with cars or planes, so I have more time on my schedge than most other heroes.”I give him an annoyed frown. “Thanks, however, you… already gifted me t-too much. I can give myself a tour of the house.”He gives me a genuine smile, completely deflecting my negativity. “Yeah, but it’d be a pretty shoddy tour, knowing you’ve never been here before.”“I—” I merely spit out before closing my eyes and sighing. He’s probably not leaving until he gets what he wants, huh? Just do the tour and you won’t need to waste any more of his time arguing. I open them halfway and decide to finally answer, but instead, he speaks first, now with a slightly more serious tone.“But, if you really don’t want one, then I’ll stop botherin’ you.”“N-No… you’re, uh, not,” I mumble. Guess he would leave without getting what he wants. Never said I was a good judge of character. I nod my head anyway. “I’ll take the, uh, ‘tour’.”Sonic instantly dons his iconic beaming smile. The hedgehog opens the door wider, walking backwards and hand gesturing for me to come in. I stroll into the house, scanning the living room’s elaborate furnishings to my right. The furniture is appealing in color and design, perfect for the shades of gray, white and faint yellow (or cream if you want to be an asshole about it) on the walls, as well as the modern style that the entire first floor proudly presents, sans the weird metal rails all over the ceiling. Pretty plants, an expensive mounted curved television, and real black walnut flooring help accent the room. This alone is the whole nine yards. My wallet is shivering.“Like it?” Sonic asks me what is basically a rhetorical question.“Y-Yeah,” I force myself to only say. I could’ve said more: This is too much, I don’t deserve this, why me, blah blah blah. However, I keep it to myself with all of my might… just this once. I’m too busy admiring the place.“Glad you do,” he crosses his arms, also admiring the living room. “Now look at this.”I follow him through a tall archway to the left of us. It reveals a path that continues to our right for some stairs and a bathroom, but also a kitchen pass-through and another tall archway that leads into the kitchen. The room has white brick walls, clean gray cabinets, an electric wall oven, and a marble-topped island. The fridge is a sleek black, along with the electric stove, microwave, coffee maker and any other appliance one could think of. The windows that face the black walnut dining table to my left (and thus, in front of that pass-through) give an expansive view of the city below.I hate this beautifully-crafted place.As I walk through, Sonic points out how to use some appliances I’ve never heard of and where each utensil and tool is located. The cabinets are chock-full of dishware and food staples. And if that wasn’t enough, a pantry tucked away in the far corner of the “dining room” has even more seasoning and staples that I’ll probably never use.I leave the pantry, slowly closing the door behind me in disbelief. I look up at Sonic, who is getting water and ice from the refrigerator.“I’m only staying here for about… two days… and yet there’s stuff in here f-for months,” I mention, gliding a hand over the sleek metal island sink.“Two days…?” He asks, chugging his glass of water.“Yeah?” I look at him with confusion.Sonic scratches the back of his head with his free hand. “Well, the thing is…” He blinks. He tries to pull his smile back up but it just looks like he's worried. “We need ya here for more than two days, Tangle.”I blink. I step around the island, closer to Sonic. “Why… for more… than two days? Watch if people die tomorrow. They don't. There, I’m done,” I say. “Or, even better, people die, and yet I’m stuck up here. There, I go home.”He gives a frown. I... probably shouldn't have said ‘even better, people die’. He begins in a softer voice, “If people die I don’t want you anywhere near Metropolis, which is already preparing an evacuation order in the case that happens. And, Tangle, if no one dies, then we still have to see if it’s just a weekly thing, a monthly thing—”“A-A yearly thing!?”His mouth makes a straight line as he crosses his arms. “Tangle, the thing is, if no one dies, that either confirms Sticks’ theory or that they’re some two-time occurrence—”“Bring me back right now and see if the people at that apartment complex disappear,” I mention. “Wouldn't that be a clear indication of what's going on?”“It… would,” Sonic looks away. “But I don't need any more lost lives, not right now.”“Better than guessing in the dark.”“Not if more people die.”“They're gonna die anyway.”Sonic looks back at me, peeved. “Tangle…”“If we just see if it happens at the apartments, then you'll know it's about me and your investigation is way less complicated,” I bark. “You can actually find the culprit faster, and nobody else disappears! At this point, you're suggesting I live here, alone, forever, because right now, we’re getting nowhere.”Sonic closes his eyes and sighs. “I’m not, I’m not. After two months and no deaths, you can go back to Metropolis. That was always the plan.”He lowers his glass on the counter behind him and continues, “I just don’t want to lose any more citizens so soon, just in case it is linked to you… If... If people around ya disappear again by then, at least we’d have an easier time finding the culprit.”I look down. Two months is… manageable, I guess. “Okay.”More silence takes over the kitchen, letting me calm down a bit. I probably went too far. I mean, I snapped in front of Sonic. I bet he hates me now. I feel like disappearing.I suddenly remember something and think out loud, “I haven't paid my bills—”“Already took care of that,” Sonic informed me with a reappearing smile and uncrossed arms. “Wanna just continue the tour?”Wait, he did what? How did he even… Would that douche of a landlord really take anything from anyone? This is too much…Yet, I reluctantly climb up the stairs. I look around a lightly furnished hallway to several rooms; another pristine-clean bathroom; two spacious bedrooms; a colorless guest room; and a thorough study, fit with a desk, a bookshelf, a high-end PC, a printer, office supplies, and art supplies. I've never used a PC this good before, so Sonic’s description of its specifications couldn't fly higher above my head. Besides…“How did you know I’m into drawing?”He gleams at me. “I peeped at your sketchbook when I visited this morning. That outfit was sick, by the way.”I blush in embarrassment. He saw that sketch!? It was mediocre at best…We walk out and Sonic checks his digital watch. “I… better get going soon. That's about it for our tour, minus one… little thing.”“What?”Sonic gives me the smirk of the century and clears his throat. “Cosmo!”Immediately, the metal rails I noticed earlier present their true cause, because a rod points down in front of us and impossibly expands to create a small metal display. A sky blue screen comes into view along with a curved white ‘M’, and then the word ‘CosMo’ surrounds it.And in a female’s voice, it… speaks… “Hi there, my name is CosMo, and this is version 1.3.5 of the CosMo Mini model.”“What the—?” I utter. The way it speaks so… mobian is weird.“Ask what she can do,” Sonic happily suggests.I do as he says, “Uh… what… can you do?”It begins in an excited voice, “I can do a multitude of actions, such as prepare food, clean the house's interior, plan events, record 4k video, record hi-res audio, upload to the CosMo cloud, transport, tend a garden, order from online stores such as Emezon, assist with fashion design, attempt physical therapy, and so much more! It would take days to list out everything I can do and I’m only the Mini model!”“Attempt physical therapy…?” I mumble. I say in a louder voice to Sonic. “Did Tails make this?”“He sure did!” Sonic says like a proud dad. Of course, Tails Prower made this. He’s only fifteen, but he's probably the smartest person to ever live, maybe rivaled by the evil genius Dr. Robotnik. And this tech… This tech is something out of this world.“Well, now that you’ve got some company, I should go now,” Sonic tells me, strolling backwards towards the stairs. “If you have an emergency, just contact me with the communicator, alright?” I nod.CosMo greets goodbye, “See you at home, Sonic!”He throws us a peace sign and disappears down the stairs, and then, just as quickly, I hear the front door swing open and slam.Without Sonic in the room, the excitement instantaneously died down. I am now alone with an artificially intelligent TV screen, somebody else’s house, and an eerie silence.I turn to the hanging screen, which is now facing my way. It’s all too uncanny.“So… uh… how do you know… how to talk like that?”The thing laughs. “Well, my voice module learns using real-life voice samples and an advanced speech-to-text-to-speech engine developed by Miles Prower, if that makes sense.”“... Sure, I guess it does,” I lie, looking around at the various decorations around the L-shaped hallway. An abstract painting of strawberries and a corner plant that died of thirst are two of them. I might grow to like it here.
◊×◊×◊×◊×◊×◊×◊·
9:18 PM.For the past five hours, I have done nothing but figure stuff out. It took me longer than it should’ve to learn how the freezer makes ice; Sonic went far too quickly for my slow brain to process what was going on. Or maybe I was just admiring his enthusiasm. Admiring his face.Shut up, Tangle.I sigh. With both feet perched upon the couch and the side of my face engulfed by a cushion, I watch an episode of the cooking show from earlier on a theater-grade screen and a 90° angle. I need some sort of brainless activity after such a weird-as-shit day.A day that involved me speaking to someone with such significance for more than a combined thirty minutes. Combined. Not once, but twice did I interact with him. He spoke to me. He looked at my face and couldn't stop smiling. The nerve of him, the balls on him.He somehow survived speaking to the most negative person on the planet without the rose-tinted glasses of Sticks. Not once, but twice did he want to interact with me. And that smile. Even after I yelled at him, he still smiled. What’s wrong with him? Why with me? What's up with me?The questions continue to dance in my head until slumber takes over, stealing the stage from a show doomed to terribly fail.
·◊×◊×◊×◊· ??? ·◊×◊×◊×◊·
Cold darkness surrounds me. The windows show nothing but pitch blackness and a distant speck known as the moon. My legs and arms fail to move, while only my irises have the freedom to scan my surroundings.And in front of my gaze is a figure cast in shadow, positioned behind the coffee table, but still too close for comfort.Staring at me, monitoring me.I feel my heart thump against my ribs as I watch the figure step closer. It is the size and shape of a 5’ mobian, perhaps a hedgehog, giving it an average height, but, so far, it’s only made up of pure, frigid darkness, a darkness so cold, so eerie, I shiver and I can barely move.It now steps onto the coffee table in an impossible silence. It crouches about a foot away from my face, glaring at me with two white, glowing dots for eyes.About two, long minutes pass. It finally speaks in a male voice deep enough to make my gut wrench.“You remain as beautiful as ever.”… I… I cannot say a word, both because I am physically barred from doing so, and because… I don’t wanna figure out what to even say to that. I stare on instead, and he suddenly spouts,“You will not break your promise, will you, █████?”… Wha-What did he just call me? It was a scrambled, mumbled mess. What is he referring to anyway? What promise? Have I met him? Maybe if he was no longer in the shadows…“After Maurice and you bond, it will be us, in exchange for your restorations. A promise best unbroken.”…
. . .
W h a t ?
I stare on, nonplussed. What the hell is he talking about? He is closer now, eyes wide. Pure darkness but these eyes. Glowing white, beading eyes. Go away. Get away from me.“It shall remain unbroken, yes?”Shut up. I want you to go away. I can feel my heartbeat ringing in my ears, so fast, it hurts. The man stares on for three more agonizing minutes, then he whispers,“I understand if you do not remember me, but please retain our promise… or else you shall accompany the victims of my acquisition.”That was all I heard before my eyes opened to revitalizing daylight.