Sonic.exe - Rewrite by Saum22

This is actually a personal story that I made to lift up Sonic.Exe into a cheesy thriller-thing.
Jerome Springer had just entered into a SEGA giveaway for a copy of a re-creation of the original Sonic the hedgehog. The giveaway was a very tight one, as several million participants had signed on. Jerome, like most others, expected they would not win, but there was still a chance. Just a chance for this. Just a chance to get an early access copy.
A few days before the giveaway was closed and the random number calculated, and the days were written as "3 days, 2 hours, and 45 minutes". Three days, nothing more, nothing less. Jerome brought his mouse over to an internet forum and began discussing the giveaway. He logged into his account, "happyhour24", and posted. "Poll: How many users on this site have signed on for the SEGA giveaway?" most users said yes, with only three saying no. One of them, "Kile1996_4_06" posted a response: "It's gotta be a scam the game isn't far enough in development".
Jerome was curious, but ignored the message and went onto his work. He worked at a steel manufacturer and converted different molds of steel (usually un-molded steel) into ingots for distribution. His labor was intense, and his arms almost tore through his labor, which he did with expertise. The day was quite short, thoughts of the contest, Kile's comment, his hunger, and the feeling of the tools, hands, and the steel he worked on.
What could Kile be on about? The game was already nine months into development, so it should be functioning enough for an early access copy. The release date was only perhaps a few months away at this point, for a christmas release. Sega knew what they were doing with this, right? He thought idly. The hours moved at a breakneck pace, as if Jerome were sitting with Sonic on the beach, talking about the mysteries of the world. Of course, both of them wouldn't want to just sit on the beach, they'd want to move around on it. That's why he got the job here in the first place.
He couldn't stay still. The time was now 2, sharp. Mr.Springer had avoided his lunch break due to trying a fad diet where he avoided lunches, which just made him less productive, and hungrier by the end of the day. He was nearly starved at this point, and asked to go back to his house, and his boss said sure, if he minded not coming for the next few days to allow himself to eat more.
Jerome was shocked that Albert was allowing this, Al's profit practically was based around Jerome. And both of them knew that in order for this profit Albert could not have been paying him what he, or maybe even the other employees, the profit they made.
But, Jerome was slacking in production because of his lack of lunch, so Al reasoned, giving him time to eat more would help him work more efficiently in the coming days.
"Really, sir?" He asked. 
	"Yea. You gotta eat more if you wanna produce more" Al said. Jerome thought about this for a moment, unsure of what to say about what his boss asked of him. Al was chill, but letting his employees have the day off if he asked? That couldn't be possible. Either he looked as starved as a Burman, or his boss had another motive.
Jerome waived away his paranoid thoughts, and went home. He was only an hour early, and decided he'd rather not risk his boss firing him because of his diet, so he went to a Mcdonald's. The drive through was quick, and he got a cheeseburger with fries. Mr.Springer drove back home afterwards, and the drive was short.
When he got back, he cleaned his house briefly. Then, Jerome logged into his computer and looked once again on the forum while eating. Should he respond or not? Kile seemed quite conspiratorial, but Jerome could never know for sure unless he asked. He decided to wait a day, to see if anyone else talked to him, and respond then.
He went to bed, mind racing around the question of what Kile could mean. Jerome tried to pay no mind to his paranoid thoughts, but could never get them out of his head. He tossed and turned, unable to sleep. For, what could this man mean? For, what could this man be doing? Was he trolling? It seemed not, for he sounded quite panicked. But, he could never truly know unless he won the contest.
A few hours later, he was finally asleep, dreams full of the day's events. Reminders and ideas of what could happen filled his mind, a laughing blue hedgehog, quills sharp and dark, a body slim and refined, with eyes of darkness and shadow flew to him taunting him. "He's a liar" the nightmare bellowed. Jerome ran from this Sonic, just to turn and see an ungodly army of the creature, now creatures, haught upon him.
Their laughter was deafening, and they closed in, waiting for the man to break. Their breath was warm, tense with blood. They chanted "He's a liar!" "You're insane!" to him. They circled, laughing with that sharpness only the mind could make. Then, they stabbed him in the arms, drawing blood and licking it. His blood, his tears were now on the creatures. The man curled up into the fetal position, broken and vulnerable.
Then he woke up, sweaty, hungry, and unrested. He was certain something was wrong. He ate a small breakfast, an egg and a strip of bacon, and logged on to his computer. Jerome typed in his login to the forum and checked if any other person had submitted a comment. There was no change. happyhour24 began typing to kile1996_4_06: "Explain?", Jerome asked.
	Jerome did not wait on Kile, he was feeling quite impatient for some reason. 
Jerome went on his day, playing some Sonic to cheer himself up, and try to get that awful nightmare out of his head. He ran through the luscious green hills, boosted his way through the outskirts of Apotos , and leapt through the beaches of Emerald Coast. By the end of the day, after beating the egg-shaped man that fought with Sonic many times, he checked the forum, leaping back into his nightmare.
Kile had responded to Jerome. "I am a SEGA employee that has playtested the game. I am not allowed to disclose anything else until the game is given to a participant" Jerome was relieved and disappointed at the same time. This guy was trolling with him, he just never made it obvious. He replied: "Troll, thanks for giving me nightmares.".
He was notified immediately with a response. "Why do you think Im a troll?". That hit him hard. Usually kids would try to defend themselves or just leave the conversation whenever someone said what they were, if this person was a kid, they were extremely smart. But, if they were not...
Jerome had to know. Something was going down. He began typing, his eyes were bulged, and only now did he realize this. "because kids like to pretend they're employees at game companies.". Whatever Kile thought of that, he wasn't responding for some time. And, after five minutes, Jerome closed the tab and went back to playing his games.
The day marched on, and, for the most part, Jerome had basically ignored the whole ordeal. But, as the night begun, he began to wonder. Why did he panic so much, he wondered. Was he really that jumpy, he wondered. Did he need therapy, he wondered. Well, I don't have much time left until I have to return to my job, so I'll think about this over the weekend, he asserted to himself.
Jerome could not get his mind off his dream, nor his thoughts during that time. What he did, and why did he do it so quickly. He sat in his bed, at six, the thoughts burning like cinders. Why did he even think for a moment the kid was serious? Why did he ask him? And, why did the man answer so genuinely? Because if he was... He could not consider that, not yet.
Jerome could not sleep, once again, tossing, turning, muttering curses as if some one else was there. It was now three, and he was wide eyed, staring at the ceiling. The ceiling seemed to dance with the tiny variations of the autumn darkness. That darkness was pulsating, playing with him. The image of a lurched body of the blue hedgehog haunted over him. The darkness seemed to drip downward, splashing itself on the tiny amounts of light within a bedroom and dispersing. 
Jerome stared, not sure what to think of this. He tried sleeping to fight the monster away, and now he could sleep. It was a fearful rest, bound by the chains of possibility. The rest was also bound by the chains of death, spiraling on Jerome like a snake coiling around him. It was almost suffocating for him. 
He did not dream that night. Jerome woke up, cold, shivering, and without hunger. This was certainly unnatural, he thought. This was not normal. Something was absorbing him into this horrible... whatever this might be described as, he thought. Ignoring the situation did nothing to help, so he took the initiative. He played that repetition of what he did for the last two days, logging in, clicking around, and then typing. It was almost laughable.
"I entered the contest two days ago. My boss allowed me to leave for a few days, and I've been having nightmares about Sonic for these last two days.
What's happening?"
He posted, thinking that maybe Kile, the only man seeming to be in the know, would answer. He spammed the reload button, waiting for Kile, like a dog waiting for their owner. The patience he had, was as the time before, as small as the blue blur's. He could not get himself to stare at the page for that long, even if he knew he had to do this if he were to stay safe.
Jerome was now eating, mainly to put on some weight, and hopefully to gain some energy. Neither happened, even though he had a whole pizza by himself within an hour. He tried to keep his mind off of the events, once again, with comfort eating and gaming. He knew he should have called a therapist, but he could not will himself to do so. It was quite peculiar, anything that may bring him out of this problem, he was avoiding. Jerome did not have an answer to the resulting question: "Why?".
Jerome supposed it may just be him not wanting to ruin his larger-than-normal weekend. He thought. Then, he looked at a SEGA flyer in his room. Perhaps he should check the contest page, he then thought. He acted on that thought, turning on his computer, clicking into his account (for, he had no password on his computer login page, the vulnerable fool), and checked the contest page. The page was almost barren looking, a picture of the original Sonic the hedgehog's title screen redone with better sprite work, a steam-grey backdrop, and a font synonymous with early 90's websites.
Jerome had not read the full text of the contest, and did so now. "SEGA of America has asked one lucky person to test Sonic the hedgehog: ReRan, and by entering the form below, you may be the lucky person able to test our game!" in a smaller, much smaller text, large enough to read, but small enough to not notice "SEGA of America nor any of their associated companies is responsible for injury, financial loss, or other harm caused by entering the giveaway". The vague wording did not seem unfamiliar to Jerome, as this was a quite common thing to do in the corporate world he had seen glimpses of during his time at his job.
He went back to the forum, and saw but only one response that did not mock him for his fearful reaction. It was Kile, quoting the disclaimer: "SEGA of America nor any of their associated companies is responsible for injury, financial loss, or any other harm caused by entering the giveaway", he posted. Jerome was stricken with a sickening thought, more, an implication, brought forth by Kile. Were the nightmares, no, are the nightmares, caused by the contest? That could not be the case, as that would imply that something not natural was happening.
Jerome could not entertain that thought, perhaps unless he won the contest, which ended in an hour. So, to wait out the time, he went to a cafè. A coffee, with cream and an egg sandwich, was what he ordered. He drank and ate slowly, trying to allow himself as much time at the cafe before he had to leave. He began to look around, and before he knew it, Jerome saw his boss, Al, again, with Al giving a thumbs up. Jerome did not know how to respond to this, as in the calm, yet crowded cafe, he did not feel comfortable interacting with his boss, for several reasons.
The diet issue for one, and more importantly, was how horrible his body felt after these... hallucinations. Yes, they were hallucinations, he thought.
Albert faltered his greetings, seeing the pause in Jerome's drinking. He didn't know what to do with Jerome, as on the one hand, he was his most productive employee, but on the other, Al wanted the union man out of his company. He was testing the waters to see if he could still profit without Jerome without firing him. Of course, if he said this, Jerome would go into an idiotic rage, raving about how this is why the workplace should be democratized and all of that bull he raved on about. It was just business, and that was all.
I wonder what he's thinking, Albert thought. Maybe it has to do with my pal's giveaway, he thought.
Jerome was at a standstill, his boss was sizing him up, and the whole cafè was peering him down. He had to get out of there quickly. Jerome looked at his watch, 11:50. Just ten more minutes before the giveaway was done. The drive home was five minutes, so if he left now, it wouldn't be that bad. He got up, and looked around. The cafè, from where he was standing, was a crowded, patient mess of impending action. The people here looked as restless as he, so he just scuttled out.
The drive home was not painful, if a drive could be considered painful. He sat, a pop song going in his ears, and his eyes resting on the road.
	He glanced at his door, on the lowest level of his apartment building, and marched in. His hand on the key, he turned his hand. His hands on the handle, he turned his hand. He marched inside, closing the door with a gentle force that only a man of strength would have to do. The door shut firmly.
	Jerome sat down at his computer desk, and checked the giveaway. The winner... was him. But why, he wondered. Why him? Why is he the only man affected with this hysteria? He wondered. But, he still pressed on, downloading the copy sent to him. 
	The package was 200MB. Kile was right! The game wasn't finished!... The game wasn't finished. Was he really a playtester? It seemed so. Jerome pressed on, waiting those few moments that he needed for his internet to absorb the data like a fine sponge. Then, he clicked on the icon of the game, a smiling rendition of Sonic, done in that new-age pixelation that was popular among people unfamiliar with retro technicalities. 
	The sprite work on the title screen was incredible! The lush trees had distinction, the wings around the smiling hedgehog were curved and even lightly shaded, the ocean waves feeling so serene to the eye, and most of all, Sonic's sprite was a marvel. Every part of him looked as if someone had brought Sonic from another world, asked him to record himself, and digitized. Yet, it did not rest as horrifying, as the recent attempt for such an effect had brought upon Sonic.
	"Press ENTER to start" flashed in and out of existence, taunting him with merry. The yellow text wanted him to lunge straight into whatever nightmare he had conjured. He did so. A character select greeted him, styled in the vein of Sonic 3, with thin lines of yellow running in squares, and character victory sprites. Jerome pursued the selection screen, using the up and down arrows to explore his options. First, was Sonic, then was Tails, a yellow, fluffy, and somewhat chubby fox that had two tails, next was Knuckles, a red echidna, slim and powerful, and a grey silhouette of Eggman, the portly villain that Sonic fought with.
	What was he doing there? Jerome wondered. Perhaps as a joke, he's faster than Sonic, he proposed. That made him chuckle internally. 
	He selected Sonic and finally, after all of this wait, he finally was playing this game he never asked for. Well, he did, but he never, for the life of him, thought he would. Then, as soon as he thought this, the blue ellipsoid presented where he was, "Green Hill, Act 1". The white font running, the top portion, from the left, and the bottom, from the right. 
	Jerome piloted Sonic through the hills, the sunflowers with that perfect sharpness that only pixels could prove. The badniks, the moto-bugs, the buzz-bombers, and the chompers were redone, shaded, and painted with aggressive hues. The teeth of the chompers looked as sharp as the metal should bring upon any that fall into their ravenous mouths. The bomber's bombs were speedy, bright, and gave an explosion as the bomb fell to the ground. The motobugs were just the same, however, roaming about aimlessly.
	Every badnik busted brought forth a bouncing barnyard animal, cheering the blue blur for their rescue. As he reached the boss, the game began to slow down. The game wasn't running well on his computer, and his computer almost primed itself to burn. Every hit on Eggman's, small, metallic cruise... bubble? It was a round thing; like a ball on one end; exterior systems prevailing the design, with a small protective window on the front of the shuttle. Nevertheless, every time the boss was hit, the game got closer to crashing. 
	Then, it happened. Eggman was struck down at the very same moment the computer froze. The explosions still rang through the speakers, growing in volume every moment he did nothing. Which were only a few moments, but it still began to attack his ears. Luckily, before his ears began to bleed, he turned the system off. Then, he reported the issue to Sega and went back to the game. 
	The Sega intro was now corrupted, the harmony brought down several octaves. The 16-bit drums did not play, but a small chord rang, quiet and insecure. Then, another, as Sonic leapt from whatever abyss he was in before he went on top of the ring. Sonic was a deep purple, much like his in-game sprite in the original, and other palettes were off, such as the ocean being a sickly green. 
	The chords played without a melody in sight. A sickening curiosity bellowed in Jerome's mind: "What else was here?" "What other nightmares were here?". He acted upon these thoughts. He should not have done so. Immediately, the menu was as corrupted as the title screen, the palettes forming deep forest greens, and the sprites mangaling themselves into hideous forms. Sonic's head was on Eggman's delete sign, almost, but not truly, looking like Sonic's head was put on a pole.
	Then, he tried to load a new file, as Tails. Green Hill loaded, but "Green" was absent from the name, just saying Hill. Tails was placed in a Green Hill with pits placed around like an obese man picking food at a buffet. Jerome made Tails fly about, landing on each small platform. Almost all of these platforms looked incredibly unstable, as if they were buckling under Tails' weight. All but one, at the very top corner, larger than the rest, ready and open for Jerome to pilot toward. 
	He did so, bringing Tails to the top of this shoddy labyrinth. Then, pixel distortion began to form, new graphics of corpses strewn about, and nothing else in sight. Bunnies with their guts, or what probably were their guts, were laid about the floor; birds' heads were placed like party decorations on the trees; and the squirrels' tails were put in place of the pointed petals of the sunflowers.
	Tails inches, slower and slower on this flat ground, this hallowed ground, this blooded ground. Tails knew what was wrong, and resisted the direction that Jerome was sending him into more and more, until a match fell on the ground, sending the palm tree ablaze. The fires sang with a freverent pitch, Jerome had to run! He had to run! He had to run! He had to run away! To the left, Tails wanted to cry out, but could only do one thing: stop. Jerome brought himself to his senses and ran toward the left, the song of suffocation blaring, the timer ticking. 
	The beat kicked, the melody just two notes alternating at a quickening rate, along with Jerome's heartbeat. Tails ran with all of the power he could, waiting for the moment to leap. Jerome responded by sending Tails to one of the lower platforms, and realized it would fall at a moment's notice, so he kept jumping, trying to keep as much forward momentum as possible. The song squeezed at Jerome, with that purple-doused Sonic reaching out his hand as if searching for god.
	Jerome could not find god before the hedgehog. The lime on the hedgehog permeated him. He had green pinpricks for eyes, while acid began to drip. Those emerald dots, the acid marring his flesh, the steam flying off of him, were in full view as he did something unthinkable.
Tails was brought to Sonic's face, the acid working their way through the hedgehog's flesh. He opened his mouth, displaying a set of teeth only barely visible from this side-view, but there was something absolutely wrong with Sonic's teeth. The top set was gone. Then, Tails' neck turned, his eyes staring at Jerome, blood, fear, mind and soul all leaking out. His eyes were ever so fearful. Ever so. 
	His eyes were as wide as a deer finding it was about to die, yet only one was alive. A hurtling car could not make a being of any level of reason make the face that Miles was giving Jerome. Nor could it make a predator fear this much. This level of fear that Tails had shown only presented him as someone who knew they were damned. 
	At this same moment, Tails screamed the most genuine scream that a game could give, which caused the speakers to play impossibly loud. Jerome could do nothing to prevent this. Nothing. Nothing at all, he thought. He did not fear the noise, for some reason. 
Of course, he thought this was some ugly prank by Kile, for what else could do something like this? He asked but no one and everyone.
	He was tied to the edge of his seat as he went back to the selection screen, and began browsing. Sonic was grey and Tails stared at him with the very same face that bore through Jerome's mind just minutes before. He stopped, and kept looking at the screen. He didn't know what to do, think, move, or even stop. He couldn't stop, even if he wanted to, for all of this would just haunt him in his mind for years to come. 
As the thought of the inability of stopping frightened Jerome, he turned in his chair, and for just a moment, the walls of his room formed hands where the darkness could lay claim to. One of the hands began reaching for him, racing for his head. The thing began revealing itself: a wristband, and a cylindrical arm. The hand stretched, reaching for the hand of god once again, but Jerome knew better. He brought his chair back into the rotten light of the game, and waited.
	The only thing he could sense for a few moments was his heartbeat. Ba-dum, Ba-dum, his heart went. Ba-dum, Ba-dum, it pressed. Then, he could feel the cold breath of the acid-ridden Sonic he had been running from for the last few days, but as soon as the feeling came, it died. 
	He went back to the computer, and tried to exit the game. Perhaps he could just stay near his computer until the room became brighter, he thought. The game did not close.
	Instead, the game cried the cry of a bird. His speakers screeched, the screen shuffled every part of the game, and he selected Knuckles. The ellipsoid was pink, the pink that only the eye's blood could imitate. The text moved, "Can you?" riding from the top, and the bottom simply unable to enter the ring.
	The game waited a moment for the late-comer, but nothing came. It decided after a few minutes to just go to the zone. It was Scrap Brain zone, an industrial smog house of a place, safety tape being strewn about carelessly. 
The steam hissed, and the echidna, previously moving in a straight line, as per command of Jerome, recoiled. A sounclip, extremely clear and strong, came forth from Knuckles: "That'll burn me!'. A slope going up was ahead, the convergence of three main routes, styled like a traditional Sonic game. The steam was everywhere, flowing through the area like veins. A jump up, a release through the circular hole that rotates a few moments at a time brought the two to a fall. Moving platforms, shifting around in a rectangular pattern, became the only thing stopping K.T.E from exiting this area. 
	Then, Sonic came. He fell like a skydiver, using the acid fuming from his body as a weapon. Jerome had to maneuver knuckles through this moment. Left, the acid fell to the right, a stutter and brake to the right, which just made the middle a clock between Knuckles and the exit. Narrow would be the understatement of the century, the movement into the flat plate from the corridor was frame-perfect.
	A voice, deep and distorted laughed a booming laugh. "So, you really think you can win?" the voice stopped for a moment, "Fight me, then." 
Sonic came down to the top left, positioning himself. He leapt in an arc, jumping from one end to the other. Jerome was spectating at the moment. Sonic laughed again, "Why so... idle?" he taunted as acid poured from his body, making Sonic look weaker. Jerome was not fast enough to dodge the acid. First came the echidna's hand, melting away, first flesh, then nerve, then bone. Next came the arm and foot, burning away, a scream worth a thousand repentances blaring through the speakers. 
	His neighbours had awoken. Their phone lines were dead, but they came over to investigate. One, named Robert Fox, just known as Bob, came down the stairs, yelling sweaty swears at the noise "Hell!" "Why the fuck did you wake me!?" "That's too fucking loud!" came the cries of Bob. Then, he barged into the door of Jerome's house. The darkness reached out for him, "Whatever trick you're playing Jerome, fucking stop it!" he yelled, but nothing seemed to phase Jerome. 
	Bob saw the screen. "What the actual shit are you playing?" he asked, seeing the acid burn the sprite, yet he did not know anything about the real predicament. 
	Nothing seemed to phase Jerome, who was still glued to the screen. 
	Bob was being choked by the hands of darkness "Someone! Help me! I can't fight this off by myself!", he cried, but no one could come. The door was shut now. He was losing oxygen rapidly now, his neck almost bursting. Then, a shushed pop came, and Bob's neck was gone, and so was he. 
	The game moved on by itself now, moving to Marble Zone, a purple ruins with architecture reminiscent of the pillars of Greece and Rome. This time, no text at all came from the ellipsoid. Jerome realized he was Eggman now, who moved surprisingly quickly for his shape and perceived weight. Jerome laughed a little, "So they did make him faster than Sonic!" he said. A checkerboard laid itself as the floor, with Eggman in the middle of it. 
	"Check," came a distorted, yet sad voice, and a chess piece came crashing down, with a white glove carrying it. Eggman was just fast enough to avoid it, but another piece lay ahead, taller than Eggman by several times. He was the size of a pencil eraser at this moment. "Nah," came another, more confident voice. The pawn in Jerome's way was lifted above, toward the peace that almost killed him once before, which was a pawn of all things. The board started to move, and so did Eggman. Then, all of it started to fall, as the board, Eggman, and the spikes came converging on one another. But, the second white hand saved all three, "Don't wanna ruin this board, it's all we got here" the confident voice told the other. 
	"Fine," said the depressed voice. The two kept playing, disregarding Eggman. A few more hops, and he was at the end of the board. The heads of the two voices came down, staring down Eggman like he was an interesting piece of art. The two heads were black as night, but the shapes were clear, the head on the left had two very pointed ears, and very tall eyes, the head on the right had some kind of set of dreadlocks. It was clear that they were the two that had already died, Tails and Knuckles.
"Gotta take this to boss," the confident one said. He slammed down with his fist through the board, and it splintered, sending Eggman to a harder ground. "Down." Tails said with that sad tone he seemed to always carry, and two hands clapped to the middle of the ground. Jerome pressed the jump key just in the nick of time, making Tails open his mouth. "Shit." he said. 
	"Down, up, double up!" Knuckles said. Two hands came down, that was jumped, one hand went to the side of the arena, which was not doged. Knuckles grabbed Eggman, and brought him to Sonic. "I got the rascal!" Knuckles said. 
	"Great", I said, my voice bringing Jerome to a halt. "And, for you, Jerome" I began, "When were you ever in control?" I asked. 
	He paused for a moment, not knowing what to say. A moment passed, "For all of this." he said. I turned over to him, "No.", he said. He laughed a little, "How, how was I never in control? You're just a character on a screen.", He lied to me. I knew he knew that I was something more, I made sure he knew. "Oh, but you are wrong!" I chuckled once again, "I made sure that once you began that contest, that I would hunt you down, haunting you, setting you for failure, yadda yadda." I continued. 
	Then, I leapt out of the screen and finally set a close on this chapter for humanity. I stood over him, acid dripping, and melted Jerome down like a Popsicle in the hot sun. 
To any human reading this, look out tonight.
Category:Not Sure if Troll or Trying to Be Serious
Category:Sonic
Category:Pages with grammar that doesn't suck
Category:MOTHER OF FUCK THIS PAGE IS LONG LIKE MY PAINIS