Sonic Series Fan Fiction ❯ Max Payne vs. Sonic the Hedgehog ❯ One-Shot

Max Payne vs. Sonic the Hedgehog

 

By Shariku Onikage

 

 

The road was a dead end. Not so much blocked as that it rose above me, in a spiral of infinity that mocked my desire to traverse onwards. It looked more like a motorcycle stunt track than a field full of flowers and the impact of what appeared to be a single wheeled vehicle did more than enough to prove my suspicious.

 

“You would not believe it, my dear officer, but the one in question can roll up into a ball and move at high speeds. You should be careful not to underestimate him.”

 

The fat man had been deluded, of course. A long-term career around shiny test tubes and inanimate robots had left him with an overactive imagination and a thirst for rotten eggs. He said the vandal had last been sighted heading in this direction. I was far away from home, but criminals were the same everywhere, he would stop after a short distance, the misguided belief brought on from video games that the law stopped chasing after a few minutes.

 

Walking up to the looped roadblock, I was able to step across to the other side without having to achieve the impossible. I peered round carefully, the sound of whirring making me anxious, and looked at the bittersweet rise of green hill zone, the trees rose up like bad memories and the reciprocating motions of the flowers was nauseating, like a summers dream slowly folding into a crimson stained nightmare. The fat man's experiments had apparently changed the area from a common meadow to a digital minefield of Armageddon. Large metal spikes protruded from the air and the local security had been backed up with colourful, reinforced armour. I had special permission to search the area, but I still remained edgy. The .45 at my side only relieving the throbbing on my forehead by inconsequential amounts. The painkillers less so.

 

I turned the corner and held my gun out in front of me, the shiny barrel lining up parallel with the floor, then immediately dipping down to focus on the crouched target. My voice was as cold as the adjective I shouted, as I called out to the criminal.

 

“Freeze! You're under arrest!”

 

I froze immediately, the punk's style of hair overwhelming me for a moment, as if it had been the start of a tidal wave to wash my pains away or engulf me in grief. The vandal stopped moving, and the whirring dissipated for a moment, as he looked me over.

 

“You one of Eggman's goons?” He asked me, as he stood up defiantly, as if he was the hero outlaw, who stole fro the rich and paraded in front of the poor. He was naked, apart from his strange colored hair, he had a pair of blood red sneakers, white gloves and an attitude the size of China. From what I had read of the report the fat man had given me, this thug had a rap list taller than the World Trade Centers combined, and it seemed to specialize in bringing things down. I didn't know why he did what he did, apparently he was part of some whack up, drug taking environmentalist group. It was always a shame where the strong, moral groups had thugs like this around to give them a bad image. It was always a shame it was up to people like me to knock them down.

 

He stared hard at me, the piercing black dots of his eyes observing me, clearly waiting for me to make my move, always ready to take the gambit of a lifetime with his own posterior on the table. He was unarmed, but gave the impression he could take me in a fair fight. I remained unsure, the long trek had left me tired, my whole life, weary. I wanted to take him out right there, cap a round straight into his spiky haircut and right out his life, but hesitation stopped me, and then he disappeared.

 

“Too slow.” He said calmly, and I swung round to find him right behind me. My trigger finger was thinking before me again as always, and tried to shoot a blast into the punk.

 

“Over here.” He was right back where he started, as if he had never moved. The throbbing in my forehead had had enough and took over me, creating several noises that only added to my headache with false promises of taking him away. He started running around me, faster than I had ever seen. It felt that we were both about to fly into the air.

 

Regardless of how fast they were, shoot enough bullets at someone at short range and you're bound to hit something sooner or later. Lady Luck was generous like that and she passed me the winning card as my last bullet pushed itself through his skinny arm. He cried out, the rings he had stolen from the doctor pouring out across the floor.

 

I saw no blood, yet his motions had suggested a direct hit upon his soul. His reactions too. The adolescent rage pounded across his forehead like the rage of nostalgia did mine. I wanted to take the chance, but the Lady had dealt me my last card with my last bullet. From now on, I could only bluff.

 

“Stay where you are.” I commanded, as the rings faded from my sight and my vision narrowed to the suspect. His look of defiance had changed, but still carried the same message, the junk going through his mind and body telling him not to give up. From his pocket, he pulled out the other jewelry he had stolen from the fat man. The seven, glistering emeralds shone in his eyes. I hesitated like deer in the headlights, the assumption that he was going to toss them off the edge with his rebellious streak overrode my mind like a computer virus full of cheap porn.

 

Instead, they began to shine, brighter than any Guardian angel and deadlier than any Mafia devil. I tore my eyes away from the scene as the vandal bathed in the light of the gems. He soaked it up like a sponge would sweat on the cheeks of a surgeon. His wig fell off as the light burned him bleached yellow and levitated him off the ground, like some Buddha reaching enlightenment.

 

I reshuffled the deck and dealt my cards as I slammed the next clip into my gun and started firing back at him, each ejaculation running off into thin air, as he disappeared from my sight once again. The vandal had somehow gotten faster, the drugs pumping through his body giving him the edge he needed while mine only slowed me down.

 

A solar flare hit me, the deer had blinked for too long.

 

I lay there, feeling my life force ooze out of my body, the river flowing away from the spring with the knowledge that it was never coming back, meandering down my broken corpse like a bad metaphor that was being used over and over again. From the depths of my stomach, a small, grey rabbit pulled itself out of the rotting cage that contained it, and hoped along on it's merry way through the great ironies of life. The vandal had already moved on.

 

Lady Luck had no more cards left in her sleeve.