Cross-World Hero #2: Central City Streets

 

Central City was bustling with activity this evening as Laik strolled down the street. Passing small and big businesses alike, including a massive two-story Crosshair sandwiched between two little Mom & Pop shops. The lights were dim within the bigger corporation. “Probably for the best,” Laik thought as he continued on his way.
The city was a noisy, sprawling concrete labyrinth. Radically different from the vast open fields of Azure Lake. The mountains here were present in the form of brightly lit skyscrapers, blotting out the fading evening sun.
The wolf lamented at the lack of sky, or the dim shimmer of the first star’s light. Where he should be smelling the mist coming off the lake, the sharp, pungent scent of sun-warmed asphalt clogged his senses. Honking horns, screeching tires and irate shouts replaced the symphony of songbirds and nocturnal insects.
Still, he couldn’t deny the charm of the hustle and bustle here. Even as the day was coming to a close, it seemed the activity in Central City was only ramping up. The anxiety of nightly raids from Badniks had seemingly all but subsided from the minds of Mobians, and life was returning to normal. Thankfully. 

Snapping him out of his reverie was an intoxicating assault on his nose; Overpowering the smell of tarmac, burnt rubber and whatever was rotting in the nearby dumpster. A touch on his nostrils that first started as a gentle tickle of garlic and cheese quickly turned to a circle cook that punctured his nose with the smell of sizzling pepperoni, roasted peppers and onions.
“Pizza!” He shouted, startling some random passersby on the street as he followed the trickle of greasy odors to its source. A little hole-in-the-wall pizza joint with a barely lit sign that read “Kino’s Pizza” in cartoonish letters.
The interior was bustling with activity. Seats were filled up with patrons seeking their post-work dinner or getting a jumpstart on their evening’s activities. A raccoon seated near the window pulled a slice of pie from the platter that sat before him and his date, dragging a thick stretch of cheese from the rest of the platter, creating a suspension bridge of greasy, chewy delight that wasn’t at all unlike the suspension bridge that connected the city’s boroughs.
A trickle of drool pooled in the corners of his mouth. He’d only now realized how hungry he actually was. And unfortunately, he’d remain that way as he had no rings on him at the moment.
Bewildered, he turned away even at the protest of his growling tummy. But he made a mental note. He would return.

 

The hustle and bustle of the city never failed to lighten up. The sounds, whether it be just the average car noises or the wailing of sirens in the distance, never seemed to let up. How was one supposed to sleep here, he wondered? Did you just get used to it eventually? Didn’t seem right now having a minor quartet of crickets under a nearby log to sing you to sleep. At least deep within the Resistance HQ’s bunkers, it was quiet since it was so deep below the ground. But here? Laik could only hope that his apartment was in the basement.
Finally, he arrived at the apartment complex. The building itself was pretty clean, almost new-looking. Three floors each. Three windows lined up side by side made up the face of the building, stacked three high above the entryway. All but one was aglow.
“Apartment S91, room 093,” He read the paper out loud. “Well, this is definitely the building…” He lamented. That middle room was likely his. Sandwiched between two other members of the Restoration.
Thoughts of the Restoration raced through his mind like Sonic through a loop-de-loop. During his time offworld, however long that actually was here, Mobius had very quickly regained its footing and was now deep in the midst of reclaiming itself from all the wanton destruction brought about by Dr. Robotnik.
The Resistance had disbanded, he’d learned, after Knuckles the Echidna called it quits and returned to Angel Island. In the wake of that unexpected decision, the Restoration was born under the watchful, caring eyes of Amy Rose and later, Jewel the Beetle. So many new faces had come to the surface when Mobius really needed them, all important in specific ways.
And then there was Lanolin the Sheep. 

 

To say his first interaction with the sheep wasn’t a particularly memorable one and that he would never forget it would be a large pair of understatements.
He’d just found his way back home to Mobius after who knew how long, hopping from world to world after the Phantom Ruby sucked him through a portal as it made its way back to its resting place, as if it had a will of its own.
Miraculously, the people of the Mushroom Kingdom had not only been very helpful and (strangely) knowledgeable of warps and portals, they knew exactly where he had come from and had a way to send him back, to which they did—by pushing him into a huge, green pipe within their castle’s courtyard.
Doubtful, they knew that it was going to drop him several stories above Central City. Mercifully, as a Mobian, he’d survive the fall. That hadn’t been the problem. It would have hurt, sure, but it was the fact that he collided with another Mobian upon impact that kicked off a new set of problems.
He plummeted downwards as a sheep was exiting the building. A paper cup full of piping hot coffee in their hand. She looked up, her attention drawn by Laik’s screams and the two made eye contact.
And then they collided!
What Laik had expected to feel—the cold, hard course texture of asphalt—could not have been any different. It was soft and squishy, almost like pillows. And then it started to rise up and down, slowly at first, then rapidly. Followed by his head feeling like fingers were driving their way through his skull.
Totally involuntary, his head rose, and he came eye to eye with one of the angriest sheep he had ever seen.

 

“What. Do You. Think. You’re doing?!” She had yelled, her voice laced with venom as she twisted his head and tossed him off of her. Standing, she pointed angrily at the remains of her coffee that now painted the sidewalk like a child’s splattering of finger paint on matte paper. “Guards, arrest him!”
He’d throw his hands up, apologizing profusely, but the sheep was on the wolf before the guards could apprehend him, grabbing him by his arm and twisting it behind him, nearly breaking it clean in half in the process.
“Man,” he said, scratching the back of his head, “She honestly seemed more upset by the loss of her coffee than the fact that I—“ The realization of what he’d actually done had hit him. Where his face had landed, rested even. What his hands had nestled themselves upon as he suspended himself while she lifted him from his head. The wolf was no pervert, but he had his appreciation for the female form, something which Lanolin had in ample quantities.
He shook his head. “It ended like literally every meaningful interaction with a woman you’ve ever had, Laik.” He said to himself. “Awkward as heck… Still.” He looked at his right hand, the same one that copped the feel. He smiled, then headed inside. His gloves, shoes and socks had not been washed in who knew how long, and the odor and deep-seated dirt and grime were really getting to him.