AN: Little bit of character development, for anyone who's ever wondered about Black Doom. I'm not sure quite whether it fits into canon well - I might need to go and rewatch all the Shadow the Hedgehog cutscenes. But I think it makes sense.
The Conqueror
Teribane
When he was young, Black Doom looked out onto his home planet.
He saw it dying. It was a dying planet, this only place he knew and loved, and he hated not being able to help. He hated this feeling of not-able-to-help, even if he didn't yet have a name for it. Later he learned names - helplessness, hopelessness, maybe even misery - but now he couldn't place it, and he never learned quite how to describe it.
It only got worse as he grew older. The other Black Arms began to fight each other for territory, for food. Black Doom knew it was not through anybody's fault - unless evolution was a fault. His species had simply evolved too far for their planet to support. But that only made it worse. It wasn't possible to blame anyone, to take out his frustration.
Soon it became even more desperate. Black Arms began to resort to cannibalism, and it wasn't anybody's fault again, it was just the only thing they could do to survive. Black Doom himself managed to live without it, just barely, but that didn't stop most of the weaker branches of the species from going extinct, food to others.
Black Doom finally snapped.
Before, he had never realized that, somehow, he'd been smarter than most of the other Black Arms. He eventually realized it was a mutation, but by then, he didn't care anymore. All that was important was organizing the Black Arms, forcing them to obey him, escaping this damn planet.
He wasn't the strongest of the Black Arms then, not until he found a way to channel Chaos Energy. But his intellect, and the way he used it, scared the others. He terrorized the Black Arms into submission, hating himself the whole while, but knowing it was the only way to save them.
He himself designed all the machines for space travel, and managed to delay the planet's detoriation until they could leave.
When they met their first habitable planet in space, sentient lifeforms already living on it, Black Doom thought they would sympathize, share some place to live. Or, if they couldn't do that, atleast share some supplies to last them to the next planet.
What he really found gave him a nasty shock. The Black Arms were driven out into space savagely, nearly half the denizens on their flagship slaughtered.
The Black Arms could not withhold their desire for revenge, no matter what Black Doom threatened. Resigning himself to bloody war, he put his mind to work, designing weapons, preffering to win, even if he hated the idea of fighting. He'd seen enough of it on the home planet.
He was again suprised when they won so easily. And the benifits of the planet they had conquered seemed to be able to sustain them, for a long time, if not forever.
It lasted all of two years.
Black Doom was forced to move on, leaving behind the dying remnants of another planet.
Again, they were forced to conquer a planet to survive. Again, they used it up in a short time.
The next few planets, Black Doom's heart bled in sympathy. He didn't want to kill the planets, or their inhabitants. He just cared for his own species more. How could he not? He'd grown up with them, and if not for the fact that his planet had been dying, it would have been close to paradise.
By that time, there had been other smart Black Arms had been born. However, they had no mercy - they would have set out to conquer the galaxy if he had not been leading. Telling himself it was self-sacrifice to save the universe, Black Doom continued to lead, instead of giving it up to the younger ones.
Soon, he couldn't survive without closing his heart to emotions. He began to forget he'd ever had them, becoming closer and closer to the younger Black Arms he'd attempted to stop from leading.
Almost a century later, Black Doom discovered Chaos Energy, and how to channel it. He began to build a galactic empire.
The humans' and sapients' world, on the edge of the galaxy, was spared his attention for long years.
Until he placed his ships there, almost as a precaution. then, thousands of years later, he helped Gerald create Shadow.
And when Black Doom lay dying at Shadow's feet, his empire crumbling before him, he realized he'd never wanted to be this. All he'd wanted to do was save his people. And now he'd crushed even his hopes for that.
All he had left was his pride.
His pride was what caused him to tell Shadow that the Black Arms would rise again. His pride iin his people...
And his pride in Shadow - enough of it to warn him.
The Black Arms would rise again, even if he, the one with which it all began, would never see it.
-fin-
AN: Um... not sure how well this turned out. The idea of it seemed to be a lot better. But I still like it a bit.
Reviews are heavily appreciated, especially constructive criticism. Any flames will be printed and hung on my wall. If that irritating printer works, that is.