Sonic the Hedgehog
Notes: Nackie is copyright Sega. Nic is Archie Comics' (and Sega's?). The song "My Way" is copyright Frank Sinatra (?). I apologize for the removal of the lyrics. I tried to keep the original flow of the story by having the lyrics summarized instead.
I gasp as I lay on the floor, my gun just out of reach, my hat falling over my eyes, a Mafia crime lord at my feet. I was fighting that fella only a few scant moments before, high up on the catwalk which must be at least forty feet up from the floor. We both fell off the durned thing and I crashed across the Mafia don, who I think was killed instantly when he hit the floor. I think I've probably breathed my last as well; I have this stinging pain in my head and over my heart. I got shot with a laser gun, probably by one of this fella's henchmen. Ironically, if he was trying to get me away from his boss, that laser beam is what made the both of us fall.
I hit my head hard when I crashed; I'm surprised I'm not unconscious yet. Maybe someone decided to let me have my last thoughts before sinking into that oblivion from which I'll probably never rise again this time.
Some of the words to an old song suddenly pop into my head. Strangely, they seem to fit the occasion quite well. They talk about a fella who's gonna die, and how he's traveled all these different highways in his life, metaphorically speaking. And he says that he did everything "his way."
I laugh to myself. Boy, have I ever traveled the highways, and not just metaphorically. I've probably seen more of this world in little more than a dozen years than you will in your whole lifetime. My job has taken me just about everywhere at least once.
And I did it my way, too. No one can boss me around, or tell me what I can and can't do. I'm independant that way.
Then he talks about his regrets, says he don't have many. Says he did what he needed to do.
I sigh. I've definitely had my share of regrets, more than the fella singing that song. I can't get along with Nic for more than a few days. Heck, just last month when I'd seen her last, we had a big falling out.
Working for Dr. Robotnik. He never paid me well, so why the heck did I bother? What's more, the varmint's the scum of the earth. He would've turned me into a robot if he'd been able to.
I let Calia get away. I should've gone into the Witness Protection Program with her, even though she didn't want me to; she didn't want me to be trapped like that. Sure, it would've been rough for a free spirit like me to be in such a situation, but having Calia there would've more than made up for it. She showed me how to fly, how to live life to the fullest. I miss Calia.
Then he says that sometimes he found himself in some big pickles, and he wondered if he'd ever get out of them. But he always managed to.
I draw a rasping breath. I'm not gonna make it out of this one. I'm accepting of the fact, but still . . . I don't wanna die yet!! I'm too young to die. I have too much to do, too many places to go, too many bounties to catch. There's too many people I didn't say goodbye to. Heck, I haven't said goodbye to anyone I really care about. I never thought this would be the end. . . . I dunno, maybe I figured I was invincible.
Now it ends with him saying he's gone through so much, and something about finding it amusing that he did all those things in "his way."
I crack a smile. You got that right, I say to the voice in my head that's singing the song. I have always been very outspoken and firm in my ways, and I don't tend to be trusting, either. That's why I usually get my man.
Oh yeah . . . forgot about this part. He says if you don't have yourself, you don't really have anything, and that you gotta say what you really feel, instead of kneelin'. Then he says that he took the blows and he did it "his way."
Heh, oh boy, have I ever took the blows. I can't count the number of times I've been knocked out or hurt in some way since I became a bounty hunter, and even before that, with Rocky always poundin' me.
I've taken quite a pounding now, I realize. I must be quite a sight, with my ruffled fur, cuts and scrapes, and the knot which must surely be somewhere on my head. I can feel blood coming from somewhere, but I'm too weak to try to figure out where. Most likely between my shoulder blades, where the laser hit me.
I'm going now; I can feel the blackness overtaking me. With one final struggle I grab a pen that's rolled across the floor and painstakingly write on the floor next to me.
To those I care about: Nic, Calia, Sally,
and anyone else (you know who you are):
End of the line for me. Don't bawl over me
too long. I'm alright, I'm at peace, and hey,
I'll be around when you least expect me to.
I can't hold on any longer. The blackness envelopes me, cloaking me, sending me into oblivion for the last time.
A beautiful female weasel clothed in white, steps out of nowhere and kneels down next to Nack's prone body. She lays a shimmering hand on his shoulder.
"Not yet, my little one," she says. "My Felix. You will live. You still have more to do, more lives to touch." She smiles mischievously. "More bounties to catch."
Mary kissed him softly on the forehead. "I will stay with you until help arrives," she told him, softly starting to sing "Loch Lomund."