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It starts the same in every one of these “dreams.”
Sonic never recalls them, upon waking. Whether some inability to face the fact that he's wrong, just a weakness of his own will, or some mental blockage for Fleetway as a whole, we might never know. But he does realise what's happening, and does react accordingly, which is what leaves these “dreams” as one of few things that the super doesn't despise. Because he gets to torment Sonic.
They're in the black void, inky water-esque substance splashing at their heels, and despite the lack of floor they don't fall through. Fleetway is sitting cross-legged, a large imposing smile on his face. Sonic sits the same across from him, blinking into awareness.
“Ugh…” Sonic groans, raising a paw to his face. At the feeling of fur against pads he stops and inspects himself, completely lacking anything he hasn't been born with or grown himself. Then he inspects his surroundings.
And notices me.
Fleetway just stares, smiling, opting to see what he’ll do. It's actually been some time since they did the ole switcheroo, and right now is a particularly important battle, or so Sonic would say. The super thinks they’re all rather pointless, partially because Sonic could end them easily but chooses not to — something about moral codes and ethics — and partially because they don't interest Fleetway. It's Sonic’s problems, not his.
“!!” Sonic says, jumping up and pointing. “It's you!”
It is indeed. It's really both of us. No hello, good to see you again?
“What are you doing here?” Sonic continues, glancing around again like the scenery had changed. It hadn’t. “Where are we? How are you here? What did you do?!”
Fleetway just keeps smiling, spiral eyes spinning lazily as he tilts his head to the side with an ease that gives the impression there aren't bones in his neck. Which here, they might as well not be.
He finds it… amusing, that Sonic recognises him. He obviously looks like the hedgehog, but also he really doesn't; even the poor-sighted pink one could tell he wasn't her usual hero. Most of his appearance was in the air that surrounded him, you could know who was who by the buzz of chaos energy present. Although, the glowing and the eyes and the personality and the mannerisms also helped give it away.
But Sonic has never felt his energy. It's inside of him, sure, but the fool is near oblivious to the powers he harnesses, and even when he's in control of it he certainly isn't focussing on the feeling. And he can’t feel it now, here, in a place that isn't.
So Fleetway determines it’s the looks. Perhaps Sonic has seen images of the super’s form while awake. Perhaps he's despaired of not just his likeness but his own body being used against him in such ways. Perhaps he's felt even a spec of my…
Receiving no answer, Sonic looks around again, pacing.
“How did- how did I get here? What is this place?” He shouts at the void, and receives no answer again. He whirls on the super. “Say something goddammit! I need to get back to my friends, they're-”
And Fleetway can see the realisation creep in, can feel it too, somewhere where the line between Sonic and Fleetway blurs and they aren't so different from one another, but neither would ever admit that truthfully.
“My friends… we were fighting eggman and- oh. I… I got angry,” Fleetway would argue Sonic is always angry — here in the void he's never seen much emotion besides it (except for maybe despair) — but he does a well good job suppressing it most of the time, so credit where credit is due, “that must mean that you’re… but how are you here? Why is this happening now? What's going on?!”
He grabs Fleetway's shoulders roughly, the usual burning heat of the super absent here, and the sensitive pads of Sonic’s paws unfortunately safe from it. He still glows, though, if much less noticeably, captured in the slight shine of his reflection upon the liquid he sits in.
Sonic’s different too, his deep navy quills and fur replaced for something he had long long ago, before any friends or enemies, a change he was undergoing after first realising his speed. He looked a dull blue, kind of thistle, when the cheerful coffee brown of his coat slowly was still growing into his now oh so classic colour.
“Wipe that smirk off your face and answer me!” He growls at Fleetway, then seems to realise what an out of character reaction that was, and tones it back to standing with crossed arms and a harsh glare. Wonder who he learnt that from-
You see, this isn't the mind, nor the body, you don't get to be fake here. While there's a lack of chaos energy there is a distinct something that replaces it. Something Sonic is ashamed of, something he fears, something he pushes deep deep down to never see the light of day. Maybe that's where they are, the locked box of Sonic's brain.
Although, Fleetway has the key.
“All the pain you've caused me and you can't even be decent enough to give me an answer! Should have expected it from a mindless psychotic animal like you." Sonic sneers, and now would be the appropriate time to turn and walk away, but there's nowhere to go, so he stares and seethes.
Fleetway’s grin falls at that. Even he abides by the rules sometimes; you can't be fake here. His grin falls and it slips into something much more sinister, a blank look accentuated by the kick up in speed of his spinning spirals. Sonic tetches, unimpressed. Fleetway stands up.
“All the pain I've caused you?” He asks, gently, as if talking to a child who needed to learn an important lesson about people. His eyes betray him, he knows, and Sonic sees it, probably feels it in himself too. Or not, he was never the brightest at that, or at all.
The hatred bubbles in his chest, shooting down his arms and flaring inside his head.
“ALL THE PAIN I'VE CAUSED YOU?!” He roars, unnatural teeth on display, and while Sonic faces him with determination, the sight of his own face and voice configured into something so alien surely has his instincts screaming at him.
To run.
“Sonic-” the word leaves his lips with such venom, that it's as if he isn't saying a name at all, “I’m here, BECAUSE OF YOU!”
Fleetway rushes forward and shoves Sonic to the ground, straddling his hips and pushing at his shoulders. Without his chaos energy, Sonic isn't as strong or as fast as he's used to, and while they are technically in the same body, Fleetway has the advantage. And the rage.
“Stuck! Here!” He punctuates the words by slamming Sonic further into the ground. It isn't real, he can’t feel it, it's not even ground but a strange liquid, but it still startles Sonic into action, who tries to worm his way out. “Day after day after agonising day! There is nothing here, no sun nor moon to turn in cycle- but still the time passes! Do you understand that?!”
Sonic doesn't, and Fleetway doubts he ever will, but being able to take it out on the source of his frustrations is mildly cathartic. It would be better if he remembered it. It would be better if Fleetway could see the aftermath of his actions. Sonic always seems to have repaired buildings and relationships alike by the next time he's free.
The thing beneath him squirms, kicking its feet to try and gain the upper hand on the frictionless floor, and hitting at the supers arms with its elbows. Unwilling to touch him with its bare paws even to, as it believes, save its own life.
Fleetway will have none of it.
“Do you think you're so much better than me?!” He seethes, pinning Sonic’s hands with his own, bringing their faces close so he can truly see the other. Compared to Fleetway's blazing spirals, Sonic's eyes are calm. But although wide, perhaps with shock, fear, discomfort, there is the same determination there always is. And the anger.
Fleetway laughs, ugly. “You think we’re so different, that you would never be like me, that I'm some demon who’s invaded you and when I'm gone, so too will be what you despise?”
Sonic isn't saying anything, but Fleetway can feel the words the other wants to say at the back of their shared throat. This was another thing he used to be; quiet. Not out of respect for others or for the supers peace of mind, but because of some mental block he acquired. Perhaps it was the new chaos energy, rendering his mind too clouded to form the words he felt, or perhaps it was a new sense of fear and responsibility, witty comments depleted in the face of his first foes. Perhaps it was just a way to try and annoy others, to be difficult.
Fleetway pushes harder, feeling the water crack and splinter beneath them and an incessant pressure in his skull. Sonic slips a little further into the darkness.
“YOU MADE ME THIS WAY! You brought me here and left me to rot! I've never had anything because of you, no friends nor family, not even a body to call my own! I barely have my own mind, your godforsaken energy infecting everything around it, until there is nothing left to think but Sonic!"
His words are like poison, meant to be ingested and give the recipient a horrible time breaking it down, until eventually they die a painful death knowing they could have changed it if they had simply not pissed off the wrong person.
Sonic's half underwater now, and has renewed his struggling, is almost making it difficult for Fleetway to keep him down. His fur stands on its ends and his eyes are blown wide, his mouth baring its teeth but making no noise aside from his unsteady, rapid breathing.
That was one more thing Fleetway didn't hate about this place. The floor being some undefined liquid meant that Sonic, when faced with it, was riddled with fear. Fleetway wished he could panic him the way water and tight spaces do, but he supposes that nothing has ever really gone his way before.
“You have no idea what you're doing,” he continues, “no idea what you're messing with!”
He faintly hears screaming, not from either of them but from whatever is happening outside, what he hears with his own two ears. With Sonic’s two ears. Semantics, it's unimportant. In Fleetway’s expert opinion on differentiating screams, they sound less like pain and more like pleas, fear infecting their tone and perhaps attempting to steal attention.
He will not be turned away from his prey.
“I…” He begins, breathing heavy breaths directly onto Sonic, who is still writhing and thrashing, “am going to take EVERYTHING from you!”
The screaming is louder, echoing through the space and disturbing the surface of the water. Sonic is nearly submerged, his face and chest just barely peeking above the darkness.
“...” Sonic tries to say something, mumbling and only succeeding in swallowing the liquid around them. He coughs and splutters, and Fleetway pushes more and more, so close to… whatever may happen.
"L-leave my…" Sonic's voice is a frantic whisper, nothing like the heroic, cocky tone he usually provides, and it's near music to Fleetways ears as the “hero” continues to struggle through his words. "My frien… friends…"
The screaming is so loud, the ripples are now waves, splashing over sonic and its so close, he's almost gone-
“Alone!”
…
Sonic opens his eyes to fire and rubble. He coughs, heaving, smoke stained lungs eager to share their dark bile with the outside world.
The piercing sound of sirens echoes all around him.
And his friends are nowhere to be seen.