You don’t remember the rest, of how you got yourself in this hellhole. All you know is that you’re here now… in this messed-up world.

You stand in a familiar location, one any Sonic fan would recognize immediately: Green Hill Zone. But something is terribly wrong. The sky and grass look… dead. Dead animals are scattered everywhere, their guts strewn across the ground. Some of the corpses hang from palm trees, intestines swaying gently. And at the end of the level, you see a familiar figure.

It’s Sonic—the Sonic you remember from your childhood—standing just ahead, facing away from you. The sky, though still lifeless, seems less hostile now. The eerie stillness in the air feels almost… calming.

The figure doesn’t move as you step closer. You notice the familiar blue fur, the white gloves—everything is exactly as it should be… except for his shoes. They’re grey. Sonic’s shoes were never grey.

He doesn’t acknowledge you as you approach, but his head lowers slightly, as if he knows you’re there. His eyes remain closed, and for a brief moment, you convince yourself it’s really him. Maybe he can help. Maybe this nightmare is finally ending.

He turns slowly, deliberately. His eyes are still shut tight, as if he’s trying to shield you from something. A faint smile tugs at his lips, and for a moment… everything feels safe.

Then he stops moving.

The smile fades.

“So many souls to play with, so little time...”

Slowly—almost too slowly to notice—he opens his eyes.

They are black. Empty. Red pupils burn into your soul as he stretches his grin far too wide. The grey shoes that once seemed out of place suddenly make sense. His eyes lock onto yours, and you realize too late—this is not Sonic.

The false safety was a trap.

“Wouldn't you agree, new friend?”

His voice is deep—demonic, distorted—layered grotesquely over Sonic’s familiar tone.