Hey, wow. An update so soon? From me? What's up with that?

Don't expect this out of me every single time. I won't update on a regular basis, unfortunately. The more I loose interest in a story, the slower I update.

However, I find I currently have a great interest in seeing how this story will turn out. I mean, this is a new topic for me to write about, so it's interesting, you know? There are so many things that can happen on the A.R.K right now, it's ridiculous~!

So yeah, Shadow the Hedgehog is not mine, nor will it ever will be. Because if he was, I'd make him into an anime that is SOOO much more mature than Sonic the Hedgehog (with guns and swords.)

By the way, guests are also welcome to review! I love reviews, please review! It gives me fuel to continue writing! -3-

"Is this truly necessary?" asked Black Doom, mentally frowning as the professor inserted a needle into his arm. The strangeness of having metal inside of his arm made him uncomfortable and, yes, uncertain. To begin with, was the needle even properly sanitized before it was brought to them? He wasn't willing to return to the Black Comet sick with a human virus. Admittedly it was difficult for him to get sick, but that was well beside the point, which was this; not all of his Black Arms children had an immune system as strong as he. He didn't want his fighters to fall simply because he returned carrying a parasite.

The professor didn't respond, instead removing his blood into the syringe. Unlike the other black aliens, he himself had red blood rather than green. He was, after all, the eldest son of all the Black Arms soldiers. And that came with certain differences.

"Your blood," noted the professor musingly. "It looks reminiscent of human blood."

"Focus on the task at hand, Professor Gerald," replied Black Doom sharply. 'Project Shadow', as the scientist referred to it, was his main concern. Yes, indeed, he agreed to the professor's bargain - but on the condition that the Ultimate Life Form would collect all seven Chaos Emeralds upon his return fifty years later. In the other room, the husk for the next attempt lay in stasis, wired inside of a capsule filled with green liquid that made it slumber.

This is what Gerald told him, at least, He had not seen the body of it quite yet, even after making these arrangements for little over a week. In fact, this would be the first time he'd see it, as Gerald pumped his blood in the lifeless husk. in a way, he was excited - finally he'd get to see exactly what he and the other researchers had so dubiously studied for years. He guessed that the husk was small, perhaps the size of a Morian animal.

That's what the Earthlings were beginning to call their planet now - Moria, because change is odd in that manner.

Black Doom, personally, didn't exactly care. All he hoped for was that the fruits of his labor wasn't spoiled.

When the professor filled the syringe, he took another one and did the same to Black Doom's other arm. The feeling of having your blood sucked out of him made the alien even more uncomfortable than he already was. Or maybe it was anticipation. Either way.

"There we go," muttered Gerald, setting down the large syringe and scratching his bushy mustache in his habitual way. "That should be enough for now."

The room was white enough that it hurt Black Doom's eyes, and his head swam as it tried to cope with the realization that metal needles had just been inside his flesh and stolen his blood. He closed his three red eyes for a moment, taking a moment to meditate.

He thought he heard someone - a voice - but dismissed it for the time being. He focused on the blackness, on his breathing. In, out. In, out. For despite his slim patience and short temper when it came to being the warlord of the Black Arms, his situation with spiritual matters was quite the opposite, and he was calm. When his mind soothed, he opened his three eyes and noticed Gerald looking at him rather strangely. He could take a guess at what happened, to be perfectly honest, but he chose to ignore it as he stood from his meditative position. It took a moment for him to gain his balance on his new-found legs, but he managed. "Let's go, then," he said, frowning.

"How did you-?" started the professor, but Black Doom waved his hand dismissively. He wasn't in the mood for questions, only to continue with the project. Professor Gerald hesitantly nodded his head, and, picking up the syringes full of alien blood in his hands, led him to the door.

Along the way, they passed a mirror. Black Doom glanced at himself for just a moment. Yes, it's just as I thought. Rather than the intimidating black alien with straight pointed horns, three sharp claws, and torso-less body, he saw a tall Morian hedgehog with three crimson eyes, jagged black spikes scratchily highlighted red, and robes that hung loose from his body with religious intent. He didn't mind this form so much as some others he had.

Such as, let's say, his human form.

Yes, hedgehog is much better, he mused, passing the mirror easily and entering the room where his soon-to-be biological son or daughter was sleeping, dormant.

The body, Black Doom found, was much preferable to any other Morian animal. It was the body of a hedgehog, like himself, and looked somewhat like he did in his present form other than the sharp contrast in color; this hedgehog's fur and quills was a sandy yellow and highlighted with a darker shade of brown. There was a tuft of white fur on his chest.

Black Doom couldn't help but frown slightly. Could the Ultimate Life Form truly be such a small creature? As Professor Gerald injected the blood into a blood pack that was likely connected to a tube attached to the specimen's back, he couldn't help but doubt - to him, he was a tiny creature, nearly an insignificant whelp to his eyes.

"Don't be fooled by how he looks," said Gerald, removing his glasses and cleaning them with his lab coat. His eyes were a shocking blue, which explained where Maria - the human girl he often saw that he deduced was his granddaughter - got it from. "This little bugger put up a strong fight before he died. Eventually he subcombed to sickness mid-battle. The government sent him up at my request to use for Project Shadow."

"If he was ill when he died, would he not be ill when he awoke?" asked Black Doom disbelievingly. The one fault he could personally find with his current form is that his voice lost its intimidating tone and his ability to induce fear on a visual scare was sharply lowered.

Gerald, surprisingly, laughed. "No, not quite; if my calculations are correct, your blood will counteract the stage three cancer cells that still live in his body due to this life support system."

"Cancer?" he asked, frowning deeper. "What kind of cancer?"

"Brain," he said shortly, tapping the side of his head imploringly. "The tumors have for the most part been removed via surgery, so that's already out of the way. If my calculations are a little off, some of the remaining cells might remain in the brain and cause the likelihood of amnesia to increase. If I'm completely incorrect - which I doubt - he'll die as soon as he wakes up."

Ah. Brain cancer. Black Doom relaxed slightly. The Professor was correct in his assumptions - it was more than likely that his immune system's white blood cells would be able to easily dispatch of the negative cells. However, as he had never experienced brain cancer before, the Ultimate Life Form would probably have a few cells of the cancer left in his head.

Which would likely be a problem later on.

But don't worry about that now, he thought. The problem wasn't immediate, so it didn't matter then. He would deal with it when the time arose.

As chemicals and blood was pumped into Project Shadow, the professor brought out the clipboard and passed it over to the alien hedgehog, who accepted the report quietly.

Black Doom sat down in a chair, crossed his legs, and read, swiftly and accurately.

Project Shadow

A research project of which is intended to achieve immortality and become immune to any kind of ailment.
The project is to take place on the Space Colony, A.R.K., created by Professor Gerald Robotnik is also the
leading mind behind Project Shadow in an attempt to create the 'Ultimate Life Form'.

The first three attempts at creating the Ultimate Life Form ended in absolute failure. Subject Biolizard is
the considered the first success, however it has grown at a weight of 2.7 times its original size over the
course of several days, and despite its enormous strength and size, it's incredibly limited intelligence
makes it more reminiscent of an animal than anything else. Repeated experimental processes have also
significantly weakened the Biolizard, forcing it to live off of a life support system.

So that was why the Biolizard was so large, he mused, closing his eyes in reflection. And it was apparently an animal to begin with due to the fact that it grew... and also because of the picture of a small, pitiful-looking green lizard that was at the bottom of the page. He could only hope that the hedgehog wouldn't do the same.

As for the three failures... what on earth could have happened?

"Gerald," he said, his voice patient, "what happened to these three failed experiments?"

"They died." He sounded toneless about it, though Black Doom heard him scratch his whiskers. "The first one lived for one full minute, before it died. The second one lived a day, but caved in to sickness. The last one was created in a coma and didn't last a week."

They all died.

The thought made Black Doom feel light-headed. How did Gerald see his failures? Was he upset about it? The odds were that he was.

"Anyway," he said, clearing his throat, "I know that this time, it won't end on a bad note."

Bad note? Four failures is a terrible note. And don't jinx it, Robotnik, you never know what might happen. He wanted to say this so horribly, but he fought the urge and quelled it with calmness.

"Right," he said instead, opening his eyes and turning to the next page on the clipboard.

There was a picture on this page, too, of a small, young-looking Morian Swallow. He turned the page, and again there was a picture - of a large Morian Wolf, and the next was of a Chameleon.

Subject: Autumn
Age: 7
Gender: Female
Species: Red-chested Swallow
Height: 2'1"
Weight: 42 lbs, 2 g
Health: Moderate. 16:1 ratio of white blood cells to red blood cells. Normal for her age. Has no serious conditions that are noteworthy.

Lived for one minute, for seconds before choking to death. Subject Autumn showed no sign of heightened intelligence. The cause of death is a failure to breathe properly due to incorrect red blood cell count. Not enough oxygen reached her lungs.

Turn the page.

Subject: Boulder
Age: 21
Gender: Male
Species: Grey Wolf
Height: 4'7"
Weight: 98 lbs, 7 g
Health: Moderate. 22:1 ratio of white blood cells. Strong immune system. Has no serious health conditions.

Awoke at 9:45 A.M. on 27 March, XXXX, with a heavy case of influenza. Subject Boulder was kept in confinement. His intelligence measured from its starting point of 127 (before death) to 214 (after resurrection). Subject died at approximately 10:22 A.M. the day after because of brain failure.

Next page.

Subject: Cloud
Gender: Female
Species: Chameleon
Age: 14
Height: 3'1"
Weight: 57 lbs, 1 g
Health: Good. 27:1 ratio of white blood cells to red blood cells. Great immune system. No recorded history of diseases.

Subject Cloud was resurrected into a coma. She lived off a life support system during this time. Due to a mechanical malfunction, Subject Cloud died one week after creation. Researcher Gregory West was fired, having been in the care of Subject Cloud during this time."

A cough made Black Doom look up with a frown, distracted for a moment from the real universe. It was the professor who coughed, as if clearing his throat and making his way for speech. He hesitated for a moment when he saw Black Doom's irritated expression. However, deciding to make the best of it since he already interrupted his temporary partner, he said distractedly, "So um, how did you turn into a hedgehog, anyway?"

Amused by the professor's question, Black Doom quirked an eyebrow and made a quite humming noise as if in contemplation. After a long, hard moment of thought (seeing no reason why he shouldn't answer such a simple question) in which he tried to put his words together so that it would make sense to the human, he said, "Well, you see, due to being in the presence of a Chaos Emerald, if I slip into the meditative state between wakefulness and subconsciousness, I can unconsciously manipulate the atoms in my body and transform into a variety of forms simply by changing my genetic makeup." Surely the scientist understood. "Of course, I can do the same without a Chaos Emerald, but it's somewhat more difficult. I'm sure you understand."

In all actuality, he hoped that the professor understood. Things were already troubling enough without explaining how his genetic makeup worked. He was almost relieved when the scientist nodded his head in understanding. "And what about your eye?" he asked.

"My... eye?"

"You know," he stammered, pointing at his own forehead, "your third eye."

"Oh, yes, that." Unwilling to display his quiet embarrassment, he sat up taller, as if he were proud. "It stays with me no matter which form I take, so no matter what I am, I have a third eye."

Professor Gerald was sitting down now, his fingers steepled together right under his mustache as he leaned forward on his chair. Suddenly Black Doom was wary; while he was merely a human, he was still a scientist, so the chances were that he was silently taking notes, committing everything he said to memory. This was treacherous ground he was walking on; he needed to be more careful about that. The serious expression on Gerald's face only increased Black Doom's quiet worry. Although his plump, bushy grey-mustached, bald-headed, glasses-wearing, long-nosed self was quite comical to look at to say the least, his mind was nothing to laugh about... no, not at all.

When he raised his head to query further, Black Doom half-expected him to continue prodding around why he had a third eye, or what kind of energy allowed him to change shapes. Instead he asked, "Do you think Desert will have the same powers of transformation as you?"

Black Doom blinked. What kind of question was that? "Of course not," he said curtly. "He has a set body structure, so - wait, what was his name?"

Did he hear correctly? Did he say -

"Desert?"

For a moment, Black Doom was silent... and then he thought...

"...Oh, gods, I see. Subject Autumn, Subject Boulder, Subject Cloud, Subject Desert. They follow the human alphabet: Subjects A, B, C, and D." He scoffed before setting down the clipboard and standing, rubbing his backside through his ancient robes. Why even give research experiments names in the first place? It was a waste of time, and led to unnecessary attachments.

But I'm not about to question the human's logic, he thought, his frown deepening. No, if he wanted to be all mournful for naught, why stop him? In the society he created, names were an honor to be earned through hard work and labor and loyalty. Only the highest-ranking of the society were gifted with such a thing to be proud of. In fact, he left Commander Black Light in charge of the Black Comet since he'd left; how were things holding up? he wondered.

"Is something wrong with that?" asked Professor Gerald, to which the alien shook his head and waved his head dismissively. "Are you positive?"

"Oh yes, do whatever you please," responded Black Doom, emotionless. Somehow he always felt a lot more free in his hedgehog form - more loose, casual. Perhaps it was because he had legs, something he was denied in the guise he took up most often.

"Are you sure?" repeated the professor in what seemed to Black Doom's ears to be concern. Black Doom turned his head to fully face the human, slowly. His three eyes stared intently at the pale creature in the pale coat with a mix of rage and annoyance. He continued to glower at Gerald with his scarlet eyes until the Professor's gaze broke away mere moments later, timid.

How he would love to show his anger to the wretched human who sat just in front of him, who dared take pity on the leader of the Black Arms. Displaying the true extent of his power, however, would lead to an unhappy Fate, who would grab him in her humongous hands and crush the breath out of him. His eyes scanned the room for a curious moment before he caught sight of a metal table that held nothing but glass cylinders and scrap sheets of paper. "Gerald," he said sharply, "look at that table over there."

Confused and rightly hesitant, the scientist obeyed. He stared at it for a moment before casting his gaze to Black Doom, who could here his heart racing by now with his sensitive hearing. "No, don't look at me, look at the table!"

Black Doom was watching him with his observant third eye, which never broke its gaze from the human's face while his main two wer focused on the table. The human jumped, and once again, he obeyed.

Black Doom suddenly - unwarningly - raised his hand, facing toward the table with his arm lazily held up, and then he suddenly turned it, palm toward his face. As if obeying a silent signal, the table jumped to the air, slamming on the ceiling with an earth-shattering crash. The glass broke on contact and as the table fell to the floor loudly, the billions of tiny shards of glass clattering to the floor while thousands remained stuck inside the table made tinkling noises. The paper was practically glued to the table, and tiny bits of metal fell startled from the air.

Then Black Doom clenched his fist, and the table was suddenly - easily, with all the glass and paper - squeezed into a metal ball. The metal creaked and groaned, clanging together in agitation with the sudden weight and pressure.

His third eye saw the fear plastered on Gerald's pale face, as his eyes were glued to the table and his mouth was gaped impossibly open. Black Doom smiled widely, and he laughed, his voice cold and without heart. Oh, how he loved this - seeing the fear on other's faces at the mere demonstration of his godly, perfect power!

The he threw the ball of scrap at Gerald, and as it hurtled closer, he saw the pale-faced man scream as he stumbled out of his chair on the steel floor. It followed him, and it almost - almost - decapitated him before the hedgehog returned to his senses and stopped it at the last millisecond, a mere millimeter from the human's sweaty face. It stayed like that for a moment, rotating in midair; then the alien cast it aside, and it landed in the corned with a loud, tense series of clangs.

Black Doom was still chuckling through the silence when he approached the professor. He knelt down to the man's level, and he smiled with bright, white teeth. "Do you see what I am capable of?" he asked cheekily, surprised at how bubbly his voice had become. He always did react to similar situations differently in different form - a raving lunatic was apparently how he handled situations that threatened his pride. "If I could do that to a steel table, imagine how easily I can compact you into a ball of human flesh!"

No, no, calm down, you need to calm down.

Somehow, with the aid of deep breathing and deep thoughts, he managed to soothe himself and stand upright again. He once more wore his casual frown, which he used as he addressed Robotnik:

"Do not ever believe me in need of worry or pity, or a ball of pulp you will become."

He lost his smooth voice, casting it to the winds with rigorous abandon, and so no his voice was like how it was through telepathy: Dark, ominous, echoing. His voice sounded like it had uttered a curse, a promise, rather than a cold threat. He saw Gerald shrink back further, engulfed by fear. Black Doom allowed himself the pleasure of a smirk - a happy smirk - as he turned on his heel and walked away, humming a lyric from his people, translated as:

Justification is what we are,
And this is what we deliver from our gods,
So what some consider a stream of dried blood,
We call it purification for our religion.
If it means filling the people with terror,
We can give this and so much more.
Way ho! Way ho! Our religion is that,
An act of justice makes us the savior of your souls!

He heard footsteps down the hallway to his left, and he turned quietly towards it.

If he would have looked sooner, he would have seen the intruder's foot taking cover around the corner. He would have seen yellow, golden as the Morian sun, fleeing from his ebony form. Maybe he would have seen blue eyes looking back at him, meeting red, staring at him, if he had stayed a little longer. But, in the seconds that ticked by into moments, somewhere along the line, Black Doom decided to turn right and leave.

And if he would have turned to close the door, he would not have only seen Professor Gerald recovering from his ordeal (the only thing on his mind: Will the experiment be able to do the same thing, too?), but also that Desert's pelt had begun to darken to grey.