Chapter Text
The worst part about this apartment complex was the stairs. Theoretically, there was an elevator, but it was rickety and at least 30 years old and Tails had told him that he’d literally rather use a caveman pulley system than that quote-unquote ‘death trap’. Still, in times like these when Sonic was holding onto the railing of the apartment stairway for dear life, his leg screaming at him in protest, he thought that maybe he should hedge his bets.
“C’mon, dude,” he told his leg, narrowing his eyes. “Work with me, here.”
From the outside, his leg appeared utterly normal: a bit noodly for how much he got around, perhaps. The biggest tell of its fatal flaw, though, was the long scar that ran through the fur from his mid-thigh down to his ankle, only really noticeable up close and if he called attention to it. That long scar was currently the source of his ire, and the bane of his existence whenever it rained. Because underneath that scar, tiny metal pins and rods kept his femur and tibia from snapping in half like pretzel sticks. Most days, it was fine; he could walk or even run for a bit before it would start to ache, but it was nothing some painkillers couldn’t help with.
And then, there were days like today, where he slept wrong or stepped wrong or someone just looked at it the wrong way, and it would set his nerves on fire. Lifting it up, setting it down, and putting weight on it just seemed so excruciating that he’d rather freeze on the stairs and become a new art piece than have to take another step.
But instead, he pushed on. “Ahhhh, sugar-honey-iced-tea,” Sonic hissed, forcing himself up. He was so close to his floor. Five more steps, then four, then three, two, one… and he was free, limping his way to his front door. He dropped his keys as he tried to pull them from his pocket, whining to himself as he stared at them splayed on the floor. Eventually, he stopped feeling sorry for himself and scooped them up to unlock the door to his apartment and step inside. “Tails! I’m home!”
They were certainly getting what they paid for with this apartment. The carpet had been white once, but years of cat pee and cigarettes had turned it a dingy grey. The drywall was cracking in some places, especially around their little wall-mounted air conditioner. The bathroom had recently been renovated as a crapshoot way to sucker people in, but the paint on the tub was chipping and the tiles made an interesting clinking sound when someone moved just right. Still, for what it was, it could’ve been worse. They were stationed right above a bodega that housed the sassiest little calico cat known to man, so if Sonic had a 2 AM chili dog craving, he just had to pop downstairs. They were right on a bus line, so they could easily get around Westopolis—a boon when Tails’ repair shop was downtown and Amy’s bakery was on the east side. For their budget, this place worked perfectly.
Sonic’s ear twitched at two different sounds happening at once. From the bathroom, he heard something crash to the ground, immediately followed by a yelled, “I’m okay!”. From outside, he heard a motorcycle revving somewhere, and it sent a bittersweet pang of excitement through his heart. The bathroom door opened, and Tails stepped out, scrubbing his fur with a clean towel. “Sorry. Knocked over a shampoo bottle.”
“As long as you didn’t crack your head open.” Sonic stumbled over to the sofa and immediately kicked his leg up on the coffee table. “Hey, can you grab me the painkillers?”
“Sure.” Tails’ smile faded quickly as he whipped back around to the bathroom, returning with two little red pills. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah.” Sonic knocked them back dry, regretting it instantly; he’d never gotten the hang of that. Without water, he always imagined the candy-flavored coating sticking to the back of his throat. But getting water could wait until his leg stopped aching. “Righty’s just not behaving today. How was the shop, bro?”
Tails frowned, but he didn’t push it, turning to the kitchen to start heating up dinner. “Pretty good! Someone called to have me look at their car tomorrow.”
“Whoa!” Sonic sat upright. “Your first auto job?”
“Yeah!” Tails’ namesakes swished, betraying his excitement. “Finally. Those ads must be paying off. How about you?”
Sonic groaned, resting his head against the couch. “I told Amy that she needs to get a revolving door. Seems like every time I looked up, there were three people walking in, so I couldn’t sit down at all. She deserves the business, but still, cut me some slack, y’know?”
“You’re the one who didn’t want to go on disability.”
Sonic’s pride stung a little at that. “My leg might be stapled together, but I can still work. Just… didn’t expect it to be that busy.”
Tails looked over his shoulder, and Sonic hated that he had to look up at his brother now. It seemed like he had blinked, and suddenly, the fox kit he had taken in had turned 18, tall and lithe, and teeth pointed in a way that made him look mischievous. Who had given him permission to get older? “Why don’t you take tomorrow off? Take it easy.”
Sonic waved his hand, reaching for the TV remote. “Sure. Amy said she’s got full coverage tomorrow anyway.”
Once the painkillers kicked in, helping Tails clean up from dinner and do their nightly chores was a breeze; the fact that he got to veg on the couch for the rest of the night helped, too. He stayed up late watching bad horror movies and listening to the distant roaring of engines outside, losing himself to a daydream that he was driving one of the bikes he was hearing, feeling the wind whip past his driving leathers and his helmet. Chaos, he missed racing. He missed it so much. He knew there was a racing circuit here in Westopolis, and he’d wanted to go watch so many times, but Tails would always get really quiet and sad whenever he talked about it. So, he didn’t talk about it anymore.
Sonic sighed to himself and turned off the TV, shuffling to his bedroom once everything was cleaned up. At the end of the day, dreams were just dreams. He could spend the rest of his life dreaming about getting back on a bike, but his doctors had been very clear that he was lucky that he could even walk after the accident. For Tails’ sake, racing was out of the question. In the meantime, all he could do was go to physical therapy twice a week, help out at the bakery whenever Amy needed it, and support his little brother’s much more realistic dream.
He briefly woke up to the sound of Tails getting ready for work, shuffling out of bed to demand his goodbye hug and only burrowing back under the covers after the fox gave in. To his credit, he got up before noon, making himself a quick bagel sandwich and idly watching a video essay on some digital horror series as he ate. In retrospect, he probably needed a rest day. After physical therapy and running around Amy’s bakery the past few days, he could use some rest and relaxation. But Sonic had always had a problem with sitting still; Amy told him at least once a month that he probably had ADHD, but he didn’t see much point looking into it.
His ear twitched as he heard heavy thudding from underneath him. Mail delivery. He waited until the thudding stopped before putting on some pants and heading downstairs, taking a gamble and using the elevator this time. Thankfully, despite the creaking and groaning, it remained intact and he stepped onto the first floor without issue, fishing his mailbox key out of his pocket. A few spam pamphlets fell out, followed by a letter with a very conspicuous logo on it. “TO THE RESIDENCE OF: SONIC. FOR YOUR EYES ONLY,” it read in a scratchy hand. It seemed too personalized to be junk, so he tucked it under his arm, tossed the rest into the communal junk bin, and headed upstairs.
He sat at the kitchen table and examined the letter. “From the desk of Ivo Robotnik, CEO of Eggman Industries,” he read with a frown. The name didn’t ring any bells… he tore open the letter and unfolded it, kicking his legs up on another chair and crossing his ankles.
“I won’t waste your time. Assuming you can read, my name is Doctor Ivo Robotnik. I am the CEO of Eggman Industries. While I don’t usually bother with something as loud and obnoxious as motorcycle racing, I’m well aware of your reputation and your unfortunate forced retirement.” Sonic winced a little at that but kept reading. “That reputation makes you perfect for a project I’m working on. Come to my office in downtown Westopolis today between 2-3 PM if you’d like to know more.” At the bottom of the page, there was a hand-scrawled address.
Now, Sonic wasn’t a total idiot. He grabbed his laptop and did some searching first. There was, in fact, a company called Eggman Industries; its HQ was, in fact, the address written on the letter; and it was, in fact, founded and directed by one Ivo Robotnik. Eggman Industries seemed to be a tech company, but what on Earth would they want with someone like Sonic? Tails was the tech-y one; if anything, he should’ve gotten an invitation to work with them.
Still… Sonic didn’t have anything else to do today. Worst case scenario, he could tell this Robotnik guy to pound sand and pick up some takeout for a late lunch. He nodded to himself, his plan set in his mind.
Sonic threw on a hoodie over a t-shirt and decided that’d be good enough for now. Especially if he wanted to get there by two. Thankfully, the bus system in Westopolis was pretty good, so he didn’t have to wait long for a bus to come and whisk him away towards downtown. His headphones blared heavy metal as he stared out the window, watching the local shops and grocery stores turn into government buildings and insurance offices.
Eggman Industries wasn’t a tall building by any means; only three, maybe four floors, with the unique logo plastered on the top of the building. It almost looked like a man’s face, grinning down at him malevolently from behind circular goggles. It made him a little uneasy, honestly, but he swallowed hard and pulled the cord to stop the bus. Once inside, the interor of the building was very… clean. Everything was painted white with accents of red, gold, and black. A stern-looking chipmunk sat alone at a desk and barely even looked up as Sonic entered, taking in the grand vastness of the lobby. He finally approached the desk and cleared his throat, a smile coming easily to his face despite his nervousness. “Hi. I’m Sonic. Uh… I was asked to come here—”
“For the two o’clock?” The chipmunk finished his sentence for him, finally looking up. She had pretty eyes. Any other place, he’d consider chatting her up, maybe getting her number. Here, though, he couldn’t tell if she was being cold or if their surroundings were influencing the mood.
So instead, he just said “Yeah” and shoved his hands in his pockets.
“Okay. Take a seat, I’ll let him know you’re here.” Sonic obeyed, sitting in a stiff leather chair while the chipmunk made a call. Everything here seemed so sterile and way too clean, and it was giving him a headache. He waited for maybe five minutes before the phone rang again. The chipmunk answered, listened for a second, then hung up. “You can go up.”
“Thanks.” He headed to the elevator and pressed the button.
When the doors slid open, though, someone was already inside. A rather rotund man, easily in his late 40s, bald with an impressive mustache and a lab coat stood in the dead center of the elevator. He was peeling off some latex gloves, staring down at Sonic through opaque blue pince-nez glasses. “Well? Get in. I don’t have all day.” Sonic obeyed, stepping inside the elevator, and the doors closed. “So. You’re Sonic. I thought you’d be taller. Normally, I would’ve met you in my office, but one of my projects had a bit of a... design flaw that needed tending to.”
“You must be Mr. Robotnik, then?”
“Doctor Robotnik,” the man corrected. “But yes. Now, if my new assistant is worth a damn, I should have everything ready, so this’ll be quick.” The elevator dinged at the top floor, and Dr. Robotnik led the charge out, opening a set of double doors on the end of the hallway. His office was grand, with a sleek, lacquered desk and several floating bookcases, all full to the brim with books. On the desk sat a manilla file and a cup of coffee, still steaming. Dr. Robotnik gestured for Sonic to take a seat, grabbing the coffee and taking a contemplative sip. “…Hm. Not bad. So, to get to the point. Yes, I’m Dr. Ivo Robotnik, CEO, yadda yadda yadda. You know all that already. The point is, I have a project I’m working on, and I want you to test it.”
Sonic sat down, shifting in the chair. It was more comfortable than the lobby ones, but not by much. “What kind of project are we talking here, doc?”
Robotnik opened the file and shoved it towards Sonic. The hedgehog leaned forward to look, jaw dropping at the beautifully rendered schematics inside. “A new type of Extreme Gear. Eggman Industries has dabbled in recreational sport tech before, but motorbikes seem to be the next best thing, and we’re looking to capitalize on it.”
Sonic carefully picked up one of the renders. It was a gorgeous bike, its panels painted in sleek chrome. It seemed a little plain, but that was the beauty of customization. “I mean, I’m flattered, but why me?”
“Like I said: you have a reputation. Green Hill seems like a podunk little town, but none of the sport articles would shut up about 'The Blue Blur of South Island'.”
Sonic bristled a little. Green Hill had been his home for… well, since before he’d adopted Tails, technically. He’d bought the house when he knew the fox was there to stay, but even before then, he’d slept in the fields and on whatever couches would take him. He hadn’t even wanted to leave. “For both our sakes, I’m gonna ignore that. The design’s nice, but I gotta know that you know what you’re doing here. What are the specs?”
Dr. Robotnik’s shoulders drew back confidently, and he rifled through the folder until he found the spec sheet. “This model is specifically designed for agility, but speed tests have it hitting 190 within six seconds. The frame’s aluminum with mono-shock and the tires are carbon fiber—we’re aiming for comfort and durability.”
Sonic hummed quietly, looking over the specifications. It all seemed pretty impressive. “Those sure are high numbers. But I take it you want someone who actually knows how these things work to make sure that it, uh... works.”
“Exactly. I’d be giving you full access to our beta model. You’ll stress test it here in the lab. Depending on how that goes, you’ll then be testing it on the street, as well.”
Sonic’s head shot upward. “Wait. You want me to race with this thing?”
“Ohh, yes.” Dr. Robotnik smiled slyly. “I want the world to know that our gear is second to none. So if this model goes out of beta, I’ll have you work in an official capacity to represent Eggman Industries in the street racing market. I’ll pay you for the testing, of course.”
Sonic’s heart was about to beat out of his chest. If this bike really lived up to the specifications, it would be one of the fastest things, if not the fastest thing, in the world. And he’d be the one riding it. And getting paid to ride it. “I’ll do it,” he said without a second’s hesitation. “I wanna see this thing in action.”
“Excellent. We’re done testing today, but come back tomorrow and you’ll see what this thing can do.”
Sonic deflated. “I have work tomorrow. But… I’ll be out by three, if that’s alright.”
Dr. Robotnik’s smile faded and he sighed. “Innovation doesn’t wait, Sonic. But fine.” He closed the folder and replaced it with a clipboard. “Just a bunch of legalese for you to look at. Go ahead and sign at the bottom when you’re ready.”
Sonic forced himself to skim through the contract. It was only two pages: an NDA, a release form, and a work contract all in one. But there was a clause towards the bottom stating that, if the project went live, he’d be considered a spokesperson for Eggman Industries, and that gave him pause. “…Just one thing.”
Dr. Robotnik steepled his fingers and sighed again. “Yes?”
“If this works out… this whole spokesperson thing… I’d like to stay anonymous. I’m happy to get up there and be a corporate shill if that’s what you want, but not like this. Not as me.”
“Oh, like a stage persona?” Dr. Robotnik waved his hand, gesturing for the contract. “Fine by me.” Sonic slid it back over, watching Robotnik hand-write in a new clause before returning it to Sonic. ‘If the project enters field testing, the Recipient will be responsible for representing the interests and values of Eggman Industries. The Recipient’s identity shall remain anonymous while in Eggman Industries’ employment.’
Well, that certainly helped. This way, if he played his cards right, Tails wouldn’t be any the wiser about Sonic’s new moonlighting job. Sonic picked up the pen and, with a victorious smile, signed his name.
“Great.” Dr. Robotnik nodded at him. “So, confidentiality goes into effect immediately. If asked, you’re a consultant, nothing more. Understood?”
“Understood.”
“Well then.” Dr. Robotnik reached out to grab his coffee, taking a long sip. “What’re you waiting for? Skedaddle. My assistant will take down your phone number, he’ll be our point of contact from here on out.”
Sonic nodded a bit awkwardly and stood up. “See you tomorrow.” He headed out of the office, stopping by the desk to give his phone number to the doctor’s assistant, an older man with a pleasantly hollow smile. As the elevator doors closed behind him, he leaned against the wall, running a hand over his face and laughing softly. Just like that, he had a job and a way back into the racing scene.
His second chance.