a/n: This got a whole lot darker than I meant for it to. Thanks to cornwallace for having me on board this train of madness.
ii: rouge the vampire
It's difficult to see everyone's faces in the harsh white-blue light from the single fluorescent light above. The basement is cold and kind of dusty, smells like mildew and sort of tastes like it, too. Mostly there's a lot of unanimous unease among the party—all four of them in total, excluding himself—but Shadow is used to this kind of reception from other lifeforms. Especially Sonic and Knuckles. For such a bright kid, Tails has some very weird specifications when it comes to their meeting places. But then, Shadow thinks, he's young, after all. Maybe this is some nerdy kid thing he doesn't understand.
It's probably not.
Most of all, Shadow will never understand why they chose him for this job. Sonic and the others are perfectly capable of handling one pesky monster—he's surprised that Knuckles actually lost against something weaker than himself, for once. Actually, any one of them is probably more than capable on their own. Haven't they saved the world from Robotnik more times than they can count? And when Shadow says they, he's looking at Sonic. Or maybe Tails. Any one of them as an individual. He doesn't mean to be redundant, he says, it's just a fact.
He'd agreed to come against his better judgment, because he really didn't have anything better to do with his time. Really. When you're the Ultimate Life-Form, no one is going to be stupid enough to give you trouble. Usually. Knuckles is an idiot. Sonic is young and not quite as stupid as the echidna. Tails knows better.
But we're getting off track. Time to digress; back to when Shadow points out that he doesn't understand why they chose him for the job when any one of them can easily go up against one silly monster. Of course, his point doesn't go over very well.
"It's a vampire, Edgelord," Knuckles corrects him sullenly, and then skulks off without another word.
Shadow doesn't think about it. He doesn't think about a lot of things, because he's the goddamn Ultimate Life Form, and the very room he stands in is beneath him. …Well, that's not true. Tails is always worth his consideration, chiefly because he knows what he's talking about, and neglects to use insults befitting of a ten year-old.
After an awkward silence, Tails stands, walks over and flips the light switch with a flair-less flick of his finger and Sonic flinches, covers his eyes, groans: "Oww." Shadow notes—not for the first time—that Knuckles has left a little trail of craters in the wall farthest from them. Maybe he's gone to punch something else. It's all he's really good at, and sure, that sounds callous, but it's not like anyone is going to disagree with him.
Tails invites them upstairs for coffee and biscuits; Shadow politely refuses both, as does Sonic, somewhat more grumpily.
"Listen," Tails insists, "I think it's just Rouge. At least, I'm pretty sure it's Rouge. She's, uh…."
"She's kind of gone off the deep end," Sonic fills in for him. "No thanks to you."
Tails shoots him a warning look. "Yeah. Thanks, Sonic."
Sonic kind of grumbles something about food and caffeine. Tails sighs, escorts him to the door. Shadow watches the little layered particles of ground coffee in Tails's decaffeinated latte and wonders when Sonic learned to talk with such impunity.
But when Tails comes back, Shadow asks for the coordinates, and with a flick of the wrist, a flash of red light, he's gone.
Travel is a breeze. What would take any normal human or life-form hours takes Shadow seconds. Maybe less than that, if he's in a hurry. In the blink of an eye he's at the place he needs to be, a ways away from the typical suburban landscape. There's the angry chirping of birds, the rustling of hundreds of thousands of tiny leaves, blades of grass. The sky is clear and blue, like the surface of the ocean in some /Sandals/ commercial. If he were anybody else he might find it peaceful, but it's really more of a cacophany, and besides, he's got a job to do.
There's a cave that's surrendered itself partially to the effects of modern-day suburban kids. Beer cans scattered around along with discarded scraps of clothing and needles and other revolting shit. Maybe some of it actually is shit. Shadow's not going to check. Into the dankness of the place and a smell hits his nostrils.
Food. Rotten stuff, like a garbage dump. As he gets farther in he finds that the cave is illuminated by dozens of lights. All kinds of lights. Big lights, red lights. Little flashing Christmas lights on strings, a violent rainbow of colors. There are cameras, as well, in disrepair. A tangle of wires scattered across the walls, so thick at times that he can't see the stone. He keeps walking, takes in the smell of rancid meat and wonders what the hell he promised to do, because this hasn't lived up to his expectations.
Shadow?
Shadow doesn't jump, because he's too cool to be startled by something so trivial, but he does say: "Tapped me, Miles?"
It's easier this way, Tails insists. Now listen, Rouge is…well, like Sonic said. She's kind of lost it, thinks she's a, uh. There's a pause, then Tails snaps his fluffy gloved fingers. It works about as well as you'd think. Ah, yeah, that's right. A succubus. I think that's what it was? Something like that, whatever. And that's not a good thing, you know. For anyone. She can't function like she used to, and she's hijacked a lot of my expensive equipment. I can't keep enabling her. I need my stuff back, you know?
"You want me to put her out of her misery," Shadow says flatly, wondering why the hell Tails even let her near his shit in the first place.
Well, uh. Maybe not that, just. Tails stops.
Shadow sighs audibly. "You could have just told me, upfront. Saved yourself a lot of emotional hassle."
Yeah, okay. I get it. Whatever. Just, uh. Just do me this one favor? I need this, we all do. People will notice, they'll start asking questions, and she doesn't need to lash out and make the local news or something awf—
The connection flatlines.
"Miles?" Shadow says, but there's nothing but static.
A feeble, gurgling groan echoes from somewhere in the darkness. It's a lifeform, but a weakened one, and not entirely organic. This strikes Shadow as odd, before he remembers who he's dealing with.
He waits.
A skeleton wearing fur clambers out of the shadows, caked in grime and blood and maybe shit. It's too dark to tell, and Shadow prefers it to stay that way. But he sees her coming towards him on hands and knees, eyes bloodshot and far too wide, tongue lolling lazily from slackened jaws where her teeth are caked with dried red gunk, filed down unnaturally to sharpened points. One of her ears is partially torn clean off. Fake glittery wings stuck to her back, and she's wearing a grungy miniskirt and tube top.
"Miles, what did you do to her?"
Static.
Shadow exhales. This is inconsequential. He'll ask the creepy little shit when he gets back.
He looks the poor creature dead in the eye and she explodes. Literally. Blood and other bits of her fly everywhere like candy bursting out of piñata, or water escaping a water balloon. Lackluster metaphors aside, she's pretty much on everything.
Well, everything except Shadow, who uses his badass Chaos powers to shield himself from the spray of gore and bits of bone and muscle tissue. And after that's done, he teleports away back to where he came from.
Miles has some explaining to do before the cops come investigate, after all.
Dorminchu - 2015
