Chapter Text
How he’d come to be in prison was not as important as the fact that he was getting out.
Of course, he wasn’t getting out because he was being released. There was no lessening of sentence for good behavior or freedom with the charge of parole. No, Sonic “the hedgehog” was getting out under his own power. He’d always had a knack of getting into places he shouldn’t be able to and getting out before anyone could catch him. It had made him an excellent thief, but it had also made him a resident of the dungeons of Aquila for the last few months. He was very much finished with his stay.
“You won’t be able to fit,” the cellmates had told him.
Contorted in the mud and filth in the drain pipe below the cells, one shoulder and his head leading the way for the rest of his body, Sonic gasped in a breath. “I showed them,” he wheezed. He worried for the poor cellmates. The mad one especially. The guards had little patience for any disobedience and escaping from prison would probably be seen as the ultimate disobedience.
He pulled his other arm through. There wasn’t time to think of the others at that moment. He needed to-
He toppled headfirst out of the drain and into the running sewer beneath him. Only by the grace of God and his quick reflexes did he not breath in. That would have been disgusting. He bobbed back to the surface and swam along, moving towards the nearest pillar. He needed a moment to collect himself. He needed a moment to get his bearings and that’s a crocodile.
“WoAH!” he shouted, practically leaping out of the water and onto the pillar. He hugged it close, pressing the side of his face to the stone and praying, “God, if that isn’t what I think it is, or, if it is and you deliver me from it, I swear to dedicate the rest of my life to you. I swear to never again pick another pocket. My fast fingers will never lead me astray and I won’t even LOOK at another man’s possessions. I’ll leave them alone. If you just let me live.”
He watched the crocodile get closer and closer and nearly closed his eyes when the skull of a bull turned in the sewer water. So - not a crocodile. A bull skull. “I don’t believe it,” Sonic said. Then, through the grate above him, he heard the chorus of the mass. The bells ringing. Light seemed to stretch down towards him, like a hand being extended from the heavens. “I do believe it,” he said. “I hear you. I’m coming, Lord.”
Uncaring of the disgusting water, he leaped back in and waded towards the crawlspace going up. Rungs of a ladder at even interspersed points were embedded in the stone walls, giving him easy handholds to climb to the grate above. The choir grew louder and the light brighter until he was pressed up against the metal bars. Mass was currently being given; he could hear the voices of the priests and saw the feet of attendees around the grate. A small child approached, peering down at him.
“What are you doing down there?” she whispered.
“Get away,” Sonic whispered back, waving a hand. “Get away. Get away.”
She was dragged back from view, seemingly by an adult, leaving the space open again for Sonic to reach his hands up through the grate and test if it could be opened. It moved slightly, and he smiled, putting more of his weight on the bars, knowing he could push them up. His folly was revealed when a boot came down hard on his hands, pinching his fingers into the metal. He couldn’t help the shout of pain as he let go and fell back down the shaft, splashing back into the water below.
Realizing that he wasn’t going to be able to get out that way, Sonic let himself sink further down into the sewer, feeling for the current. It had to lead out into the canal. He drifted, holding his breath, until the water started to tug him. He went with it willingly, letting it pull him further and further along until he bumped against some bars. Chest screaming, he pulled himself around them and swam for the light he could see. He kicked his legs, flailed his arms, and burst out into the air, gasping in a breath. It was the first fresh air he’d breathed in months. He could see people on the banks, blessedly ignorant of his presence. His eyes burned. He doubted it had anything to do with the water.
Captain Rockwell looked up as Archbishop Walters came around the corner, straight from a mass that had just concluded. He was an older, stern looking man in a white robe. There’d been a time when he’d been a cunning general and strategist, but those days were behind him. Now, he led the people in matters of faith.
Rockwell bowed before telling the Archbishop, “Disturbing news, your grace. One of the prisoners has escaped.”
Walters walked up beside her, the permanent frown on his face deepening. “No one escapes from the dungeons of Aquila, Rockwell. The people of this city accept that as a historical fact.”
“The responsibility is mine, sir,” she said, bowing again.
He turned his icy gray eyes on her. “Yes.”
She averted her gaze, stopping as he did. “It would be a miracle if he made it through the sewer system.”
“I believe in miracles, Rockwell. It’s part of my job.”
“At any rate, your grace,” Rockwell pushed on, “it is only one, insignificant, petty thief.”
“Storms announce themselves in the simple breeze, Captain, and a single, random spark can ignite the fires of rebellion.”
Rockwell looked back up at him, steeling herself against the intensity of his stare as she said, “If he’s out there, your grace, I shall find him.
“Yes,” Archbishop Walters said before raising his hand for her to kiss the ring on his thumb, a clear indication that their conversation was over.
Quickly, she gathered her men. On the back of her horse, she told them their mission and gave them the incentive that, “The name of the man who catches Sonic will be brought to the personal attention of the bishop, as well as the folly of the man who lets him get away.” From the looks on the faces of her guards, she knew she’d given them enough reason to take the mission even more seriously than they normally would.
Kicking the sides of her horse, she led them out the large front gate and over the drawbridge that crossed the canal, riding down the wide main street that cut through the city. People split to give them space and she focused ahead, mind set on her objective.
From the side of the street, two guards watched them pass, munching on their midday meal and mumbling between themselves about how they were making just as much money sitting on the side of the canal, watching for criminals, as those poor sods who were riding out to search for one thief were.
Beneath them, slipping a knife from one guard’s belt and using it to cut coin purses from both of their belts, was Sonic. He freed the last purse and swam along glancing at the sky as he did. “Lord, I know I promised to never steal again, but I also know that you know what an incredibly weak willed person I am.”
Within the hour, Sonic and the guards chasing him were all out of the city, heading north. None of them saw the cloaked rider in black, with a hawk on his arm, heading in that same direction.