Sonic: The Loop That Shouldn't Exist

Loops and Lies

Tails wasn't the type to get rattled easily. His workshop was his sanctuary, a world of blinking lights, whirring machines, and carefully calibrated screens. But lately, even he couldn't shake the feeling that something had gone seriously wrong.

Sonic plopped into the chair beside the main console, his feet tapping impatiently on the floor. The usually confident blue hedgehog looked more restless than ever — and for good reason.

"You still seeing those glitches?" Sonic asked, voice low but urgent.

Tails didn't look up from the screen. "Yeah. And it's worse than I thought."

He tapped a few keys, and the main monitor split into dozens of windows, each displaying different data streams — some static, some flickering, some with code lines twisting and folding like digital origami.

Sonic leaned in. "Explain it like I'm five."

Tails gave a small smile, though his eyes remained sharp. "Okay, picture our world like a video game. You know, with levels, loops, and rings. Usually, everything loads perfectly — all the parts of the world line up like a puzzle."

Sonic nodded. "Sounds about right."

"But lately," Tails continued, "I'm finding... fragments of code that shouldn't be here. Pieces from other versions of this world. Like a ghost level bleeding into our reality."

Sonic frowned, crossing his arms. "Other versions?"

Tails pointed at the screen. "Look here."

The screen zoomed in on a 3D map of Green Hill Zone, but parts of it flickered, glitching in and out of existence. Some areas looked normal, lush and green, but others were jagged, half-formed — like digital debris from a corrupted file.

"These fragments," Tails explained, "aren't just random. They're pieces of entire zones, timelines, or maybe realities that never fully existed or were erased."

Sonic's eyebrow twitched. "So, what? Our world's a patchwork? A Frankenstein's monster of different timelines mashed together?"

Tails shrugged. "That's the simplest way to put it. But there's more. Look here."

He pulled up a live diagnostic graph. It showed spikes in "reality interference" — signals that didn't match anything from their world.

Sonic tilted his head. "Signals from where?"

"I don't know exactly yet," Tails admitted. "But I think it's from alternate realities. Versions of Green Hill and beyond that should've stayed deleted or isolated."

A soft alarm beeped from the console, making both their heads snap toward the sound.

Tails' fingers flew over the keys. "I've been tracking this interference for hours. Every time it spikes, the world... glitches more."

Sonic stood up, fists clenched. "What kind of glitches?"

Tails hesitated. "Things disappearing. People acting different. Objects flickering in and out. Stuff you noticed, right?"

Sonic nodded slowly, remembering the flickering trees, the frozen clouds, and the disappearing ring.

Tails leaned back, looking exhausted. "It's like reality is unraveling — or maybe being rewritten."

Sonic ran a hand through his quills, a nervous energy bubbling up. "Then what do we do?"

Tails looked at him seriously. "We have to find the source of the interference. If these fragments keep bleeding through, it could break everything."

Suddenly, the door to the workshop burst open.

Amy stormed in, eyes sharp and voice tinged with something Sonic couldn't place. "Sonic! Have you noticed... anything weird? I mean, besides the usual chaos?"

Sonic glanced at Tails, who gave a subtle nod. "Yeah. Something's wrong. The whole world feels like a glitch."

Amy frowned. "I thought I was going crazy. Knuckles too. He says the island feels different, like it's been... rewritten."

Sonic raised an eyebrow. "Rewritten?"

Amy bit her lip. "Like memories are changing. Like things that never happened are suddenly real — and things we should remember are missing."

Sonic exchanged a look with Tails. This was bigger than he thought.

Tails pulled up a new window on the screen — one that showed memory logs from their friends. "It's not just the world," Tails said grimly. "Our memories are fragmenting too. Some of us remember things that didn't happen here. Some forget things that should be obvious."

Amy's eyes widened. "So... we're stuck in some kind of broken loop? Like in a game?"

"Exactly," Sonic said, a fire lighting in his eyes. "And I don't like being a character on repeat."

He paced the room, the weight of what Tails uncovered settling in.

Then suddenly, the monitors flickered.

Static filled the room.

A voice crackled through the speakers — faint, distorted, like a broken radio.

"You're not supposed to see this..."

Sonic froze.

Tails leaned in, amplifying the audio.

"You're not supposed to see the lies..."

The voice vanished.

Sonic slammed his fist on the table. "Who's behind this? Eggman?"

Tails shook his head. "I don't think it's him. This feels... bigger. More complicated. Like someone's rewriting reality itself."

The two friends exchanged a look — the kind that meant they were in deeper than ever.

Sonic's grin returned — but it was sharper, more determined.

"Then let's go find the truth. No matter how many loops or lies we have to break through."