RED
{To outsiders, her only goal was jewels; or was it a cover, a mask to hide behind...}
She opened her eyes.
Those turquoise eyes scanned the room, passing over the materials of self-indulgence; lush silks spilling over chairs and onto the floor, gleaming crystals floating in a half-formed gloom from the ceiling, the twisting arms of the chandelier all but invisible even to her superior vision. Vases of roses stood upon dainty tables, the seductive color lost upon the darkness that hid the blossoms from view. The plush white carpet was grayed, fibers soft to the touch, appeared as unyielding as stone.
Or did it appear in that manner only to her?
With shocking abruptness, she raised a hand to her forehead, massaging her temples. Blinking away the heavy fatigue weighing upon the corners of her mind, the twin orbs of turquoise flickered toward the digital clock on the bedside table. Three-twenty-five; the numbers shone with a neon glow, a warm scarlet that provided no comfort to the staring bat. Rouge sat up and let her head hang for a small moment, gazing at nothing, breathing out a disbelieving sigh. The small nightgown crumpled around her waist, light as air and pale as moonlight. She placed a hand beneath the lace, her fingers slipping down in between her cleavage and resting over her heart. This wasn't what she planned. She was supposed to sleep through the remainder of the night. She was supposed to awake in the morning, seven sharp. This interruption was not appreciated, especially when it was directly after a job.
Her hand moved away from her chest and slid down her arm, feeling the goose bumps rising beneath her touch. Why was she awake? She had only just returned less than an hour ago. A necklace that had been passed down through the generations of a notable family was planned to be on display in the city's Museum of Natural History. The jewelry was priced at a ridiculous amount, high enough to pique her interest. But that was putting it mildly. Seeing the exquisite craftsmanship in the shape, form, and jewel selection of the piece in the news coverage; it took no small amount of time for Rouge to lust after it. Ruby, Moonstone, Diamond, and hand-crafted silver from the old days, all in pristine condition glittered like a thousand eternal stars. A necklace fit for a queen.
She was a queen.
She was the matriarch of the night, royalty of the shadows. The world by the light of the moon was her kingdom, her domain to rule however she liked. And, like all empires, hers needed to be taxed; and only the best would do. However, it was not just the lavish riches that caused the sparkle to appear in her eyes. No, it was the thrill, the challenge, and the smug triumph that she craved alongside with the plentiful reward. The neckpiece was safely tucked away in a box with the rest of her conquests, delicately placed on the far side of the room. The security had been fairly basic; laser beams, cameras, a guard or two. One well-placed kick, a black cloth, and a pair of wings were all it took, almost hardly even worth it.
And yet…
Rouge dragged herself from the queen-sized bed, the satin covers folding over itself with barely a whisper. She ignored the cold night air that wrapped around her exposed skin as she tiredly, yet doggedly, stumbled to that little velvet lined box. The cloud of white billowed around her, the skirt of the gown brushing against her thighs. She needed to see it. She needed to see that shine. She needed to feel the intricate bands beneath her fingers just one more time…
Elegant ebony wings flared from her back, twitching and stretching, the supple flesh indistinguishable in the night, except for the shine reflecting digital clock's light. Scant as the illumination was, the movement and change on the weight of her back distracted her from the call of her spoils. A crease formed on her alabaster forehead. Plump, full lips turned down. Her body stopped. This was not like her, to be so…agitated. Was it because of her lack of sleep? It never happened before. Her ancestors were bright eyed and energetic when the night blossomed, only slowing when the darkness waned, giving in to slumber only when the sun rose to give its light.
Somehow, someway, the balance shifted and she arrived here, reverted away from her nocturnal heritage. One tall, scalloped ear twitched. This could not be the reason! She was straying from the question at hand.
Rouge deeply inhaled an unnecessary, calming breath. Controlling each individual muscle, she tamed her wings and folded them neatly, the soft feel of the black velvet light against her bare back. The sable limbs acquired a new glow, subtle and faint as the distance between them and the ivory lace, closed. The ghost of a smile twisting her face, the bat once again reached for the little box.
And there it was; silver, white, and red softly wrapped in velvet and darkness. Rouge could easily see her smiling face reflected in the tiny facets and smooth surface. The cool metal felt so wonderful in her palm. Underneath her experienced fingertips, she could feel the artistry, could feel the creator's industrious sweat as he toiled over the masterpiece. She lifted it higher, the great diamond, the beautiful centerpiece of the necklace, dangling before her eyes.
It was hers. It was all hers. Her victory, her prize. The symbol of her success, of her skill, of her strength.
The smile faded away.
With a sharp clink, the jewelry fell back into the box in a jumble across its fellows. Rouge backed away until her legs met the foot of her bed. Numbly she sat, staring at that little box as if it were balefully gazing back. Her calm and contented mood had vanished as unexpectedly as her sleep had, replaced with an odd feeling.
Regret.
A memory arose unbidden from the hazy corners of her mind, blacking out the present time and age.
"Mistress! Mistress!"
The little girl looked up from the ragged teddy bear in her hands to see the family steward rush past her room. Clutching the toy to her chest, she arose from the floor. She crept from her room, her little black dress swishing around her legs, and, with one frightened eye, peered around the corner and into the parlor. The steward was bowing, his purple fur frazzled and shining with sweat.
"Mistress, I-I'm sorry! They have located you! The police are on their way!"
His frantic cries were silenced by her glare, cold as ice. The girl saw her mother rise from the loveseat and place a hand at her hip. Rosalind was a startling beauty. Tall, elegant, and with a curving figure that made her both enticing and dangerous. Both mounds on her chest were plump and full to add to her alluring demeanor. The black wings were long, large and curved like a scythe. Her fur was snow white mixed with apricot skin, a trait passed down through her family. As were her eyes, her, cold and calculating turquoise eyes.
Rosalind tossed her curled hair away from her eyes and stared down at the steward with thinly veiled anger, her slight French accent distorted in outrage. "I knew we couldn't trust Diego to clean up our trail. The moment this mess blows over, I am going to make his life miserable!"
She snapped her fingers and the steward immediately jumped to his feet. "We leave at once. Gather most of the servants and tell them to grab as much as they can carry. Don't bother about leaving evidence; it's obvious that I've been discovered. As for the others, gather the bare essentials- food, clothing, whatever –and make for the mountain villa. That place is well hidden, they won't trace us there."
The orders were given with military precision, rapid and direct. The Steward bowed as Rosalind turned to leave. Catching sight of the peeping child, the Steward blinked in surprise.
"Wait, Mistress!"
Rosalind paused.
"What of your daughter?"
The child's ears pricked up.
There was no change in the depth of coldness in the elder bat's eyes as she stared at her daughter with slight contempt.
"If the brat can keep up, take her with us. If not, then leave her. I've no interest in going to prison because of her."
And with that, Rosalind la Dame doré swept from the room.
Sirens were wailing, loud and mournful, as the refugees evacuated the manor. The young bat fearfully clung to the servant's hand as they ran into the forest, her eyes wide and terrified. She did not ask what was happening, or where they were going. She had learned long ago not to ask annoying questions. Police cars screeched to a halt in the drive.
"Hurry you fools!"
Rosalind's voice acted like a whip, scaring the already frightened child. Her knees buckled and her hand slipped from servants. Crying aloud, she fell face-first into the mud.
"NO! Leave her! Do not let yourselves be caught because she cannot do a thing right! FLEE!"
Footsteps dashed into the undergrowth. Footstep crashed closer behind her. Rouge raised her head, extending one hand after her running mother, large eyes filled with frightened tears.
"Mama! MAMA!"
Rouge gave her head a little shake, clearing her head. That had been so long ago. That had been a lifetime ago. The officers had found her in the mud, still screaming for the mother that never cared. The mother she would never see again. It's foolish to think that she used to cry for her, cry for her 'bootiful mummy'. It was only after many hard years being shunted from home to home, that the truth was revealed.
Her mother didn't deserve those tears. She was nothing more than scum, a lowlife. In her mid-teens, Rouge was filled with hatred for that woman, thinking that she was the center of the universe, never acknowledging that she had a daughter who needed her to be a mother. And so, Rouge had left her final foster home with a cold lump of determination in her heart. She was going to prove that she could do something right.
That night, what was left of the la Dame doré family fortune was stolen. The following evening, the safe box that belonged to Rosalind, under a different name, was also robbed. Thus began Rouge's emergence. After the first thievery, the first rush of adrenaline, the first victory, it was inevitable that she was pulled into the life she now led. Oh it was so satisfying to steal from her mother and know that she could do nothing about it. It was true, she was following in Rosalind's footsteps, but the natural talent and attraction to wealth was enough to overlook that fact. With each consecutive robbery, one single thought grew and strengthened itself inside her.
She was going to become a more successful thief than her mother. She was going to be the stuff of legend. She would succeed where Rosalind had failed.
The bat suddenly straightened, running her hands over her face. She was wasting the night going over memories she had sworn to leave in the past. She'd grown up. She'd grown strong−
A crushing wave of tiredness, leaden with a dark emotion she could not name, drove into her with such torrential power; the already dim room was temporarily lost from view. Vision failing for a brief time, her knees trembled and folded. She fell to all fours, gasping in shock. A storm was brewing behind her tightly shut lids, ravaging the internal workings of her eyes and threatening to unleash a howling sea of never-ending tears. Her back arched, her wings expanded to their fullest extent in overwhelm. Every muscled was tensed in holding back the explosive feeling that had ambushed her. Her claws ripped into the carpeted floor, tendons bulging from the skin. Rouge bit her lip, the turmoil within surging to an unbearable level, sending her reeling, draining the energy from her body.
She did not hear the muted thud as she struck the floor. Her sides were heaving like bellows, desperately gasping in air. And as suddenly as it had come…it was gone, leaving behind echoes that rang in her soul, aftershocks from the quaking of the earth. She lay there, panting, her jeweled eyes wide, pupils dilated, thought the light had not changed. Time was a mystery as the thief stayed in the fetal position upon the floor, shocked and completely drained from the betrayal of her emotions. Finally, there was enough energy to move.
Trembling, Rouge forced herself to rise to her knees, wrapping her arms around herself. She suddenly felt…broken, defenseless, and vulnerable. Her seashell ears were plastered flat against her skull, her wings still open, the curved membranes a testament to the sudden and demoralizing attack.
What was wrong with her? Why was she falling to pieces over things that couldn't be changed, things that happened nearly thirty years ago? She was better than this wasn't she? She couldn't find the reason!
No…
One shaking eye stared at the box, the velvet box that held empty dreams.
She knew. She knew the reason.
The eye closed.
She wasn't strong. She wasn't strong enough to see the full reality facing her. All through the years she was lost in denial, unconsciously fighting the plague of black emotions that had been building up until they'd erupted. She'd hid it, hid it all behind a carefully sculpted façade. The jewels helped only a little before they gathered dust and dulled complexions. The triumph that came with their capture faded away quickly, painfully. Ageless diamonds did not last; metals and immortal stones died in her heart, their little lives over and done. Even chaos emeralds, the very symbol of eternal power, did not last. And in the face of mounting pain, she did her best to find any solution within reach. Growing her body to its fullest potential, becoming flirtatious and coy; it all gave her an amount of power. Placing her influence over others and using that influence, was one element in filling the void. It made her feel strong.
Just like…him.
He, who had virtually nothing, had everything she wanted and needed. He was strong, physically and emotionally. He had no house, no material things to call his own. All he had was an empty island in complete isolation from the world; Angel Island. All he needed to be content was to stand guard over the Master Emerald and life would go by without any disturbance. The very moment she met him, the security and purposefulness in his open violet eyes, bereft of weakness, struck a chord in her. Whatever caused the thing she saw in those eyes, she needed to find; even steal it.
But in taking the Master Emerald, the glowing brilliance brought no comfort, no release. She wanted to scream. How did it work for the guardian? How could the echidna have what she didn't? Flaunting herself only goaded his temper, stealing only ignited his protective fire. But in the small moments of calm, in the time of words and not fists, she would try. She would try so hard to see into him. And in those moments, only their abrasive personalities would be a small stumbling block.
The bat rested her head against her knees. How could she find a solution?
An image burst into life behind her eyes, vivid and sharp. Knuckles the Echidna was standing atop the Master Emerald's shrine. The sun was setting in the east, the orange glow creating a strange mixture of color in the amethyst of his eyes. A light wind stirred the spines falling around his face. His mouth was set in a no-nonsense line, his eyes hard and bright. His back was straight, his white-crescent chest thrown out. Standing like a statue, he faced the sunset, strength radiating from his every pore.
Rouge the Bat opened her eyes. She stood up, ignoring the darkened room around her, and walked to the door.
No, she wasn't strong. But she was going to change that. G.U.N. had offered her a full-time job as a special operative when she had worked with them before on the PROJECT SHADOW incident. At the time she had refused and they had left a card with her in the event that she changed her mind. Pushing aside the door and striding down the hall, Rouge permitted a small half-smile to flit across her face.
She wasn't strong yet, and she had a call to make.
Rouge the Bat belongs to SEGA.
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