Act I
It was a much colder night than usual, even for a winter in Denmark. That, paired with the hushed silence that engulfed the grounds of Elsinore Castle, was enough for Francisco to grow wary of the silent darkness and weary of the spine-tingling chill. The green hawk snuggled himself further underneath his jacket, but to no avail.
"I loathe winters. Especially in Denmark," he groaned.
On top of everything, Francisco was having trouble focusing. His head was starting to pound, he was catching a cold, and he could feel his stomach churning slightly.
He could not wait to be relieved of duty tonight.
The midnight hour was fast approaching; "The Witching Hour," they called it. Francisco thanked the heavens that he was almost finished with his shift on the battlements.
He suddenly felt as if someone were watching him, and looking out into the vast, dark and open land before the castle, all he saw were the flecks of snow being blown about by the wind, which, to the avian's eyes, looked like a man flying about. For the umpteenth time that hour, he just told himself it was but a hallucination, his eyes playing tricks on him, a product of his sickness and his anticipation of being relieved for the night.
A voice to his right brought Francisco out of his apparent hallucination, "Who's there?" the voice called out.
"I should ask the same thing," Francisco retorted apprehensively, "Identify yourself!"
"Long live the king!" the voice replied.
Francisco then recognized the voice and its owner.
"Barnardo?" he asked tentatively.
Barnardo stepped closer as the green hawk's eyes adjusted to the deep blackness.
"Yes, Francisco, it is I," the purple chameleon said. "And I have come to relieve you of your duty for the night."
"And not a moment too soon. Thank God," the hawk sighed, which sent a cloud of vapor from his beak. "Might I inquire as to what time it is?" he asked.
"The clock is just striking midnight. Please, Francisco, I do implore you to go to bed," the chameleon said, noticing how Francisco looked a little worse for the wear, but said nothing of the green avian's sickly appearance.
"Many thanks, Barnardo. It is woefully cold and I fear I am quite sick," Francisco shivered into his jacket.
"Has there been any trouble during your shift?"
"Fortunately nothing, not even the stir of a mouse."
"Have you seen Marcellus or Horatio about?"
"No. May I ask why you seek them?"
"They're supposed to keep watch with me tonight, but I have neither seen hide nor hair of them.
If you happen to pass either of them, please tell them to hurry," Barnardo requested, a slightly frantic tone seeping into his voice.
Francisco noticed his slightly urgent tone and wanted to pursue the matter further, but he was getting dreadfully sick, and he could hear quick but measured footsteps approaching where the two sentries stood, "I think I hear them. Halt! Who's there?"
"We are friends to this state," a slightly unfamiliar voice called.
"And servants of ze Danish king!" a more familiar voice added.
"Ah! Marcellus! Horatio!" Francisco greeted and shook the hands of both the golden-brown coyote and cobalt blue hedgehog respectively,"Hello! And good night!"
"Adieu, 'onest soldier," Marcellus crowed in his thick French accent, "'Oo 'as taken your place?"
"Barnardo has, Marcellus," the hawk gestured to the chameleon behind him, "Also, he told me that, should I meet you on my way down, to tell you two to hurry up as well."
"Well, thank you very much for that useful tidbit of information my good sentry," Horatio remarked dryly, as Barnardo face-palmed behind Francisco's back, "Now, if you'll excuse us, we must hurry along the three or so steps it'll take to reach Barnardo. Good night!"
Francisco, ever the cheeky bastard, even when coming down with influenza, smirked as he walked away, down to the safety, light, and warmth of Elsinore's halls.
Marcellus and his blue companion turned to the purple sentry, "Bonsoir, Barnardo."
"Good evening, Marcellus, Horatio is here too?" the chameleon said.
"More or less every piece of me," came Horatio's reply.
"'As it appeared again tonight?" Marcellus quickly inquired.
"I have seen naught," the other sentry replied.
"Our dear 'Oratio sinks not zat our sighting of zis thing twice now is credible," came Marcellus, "'E believes zat we are imagining zis 'orrible thing. And zat is why I insisted zat 'e come with us on ze battlements, so 'e can see and experience for 'imself, ze ghost zat 'as seemingly roamed ze castle grounds for deux nuits, and maybe even 'ave 'im communicate with it."
"Bah! It shall not appear," Horatio snapped, confident in his disbelief.
"Well, would you like to seat yourself?" Barnardo asked of the two men, the stubborn blue hedgehog in particular, "I shall regale to you the happenings of the past two nights, the story you refuse to believe."
"I shall have my ears perked," Horatio replied, still unconvinced.
"Last night," Barnardo began, "when the second star to the left, the one beside the North Star, had traveled part of its course and shines where it is now, which is about when the clock chimed one, Marcellus and I-"
Barnardo didn't have time to finish his sentence, for Marcellus was pointing with a slightly feverish and panicked finger at the ghostly figure behind the chameleon.
A/N: I guess I should put a disclaimer here so I don't get shot at or kidnapped by The Copyright SWAT team or something. I own not a single cell of any of the Sonic characters used in this story, SEGA and/or Archie Comics do. Also, the story of Hamlet is not owned by me either, although no one really knows who owns it and therefore can take credit for being the original author because Shakespeare's scripts of it are but his own stage adaptation of an ancient story/stories whose origins and credibility are still being debated today.
I hope to God I won't have to put such long disclaimers like this ever again. :-)
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