Chapter 11: Rouge, Revisited

Sunrise was at 7:20 AM.

The night had passed with little more than a fleeting flurry or two. The dawn was as cold as ever, but that didn't stop certain monsters from going about their daylight business. Several squad cars, laden with heavy lighting equipment, were parked outside of the precinct, all at rest until the waning ours of the day. Several crows had turned the automobiles into their morning perches, though a peculiar many more were beginning to congregate on the high beams and trusses as well.

They were dismissed by a blank shot from an aggravated officer.

Shadow watched the odd happening, and also observed the flock of crows land right back on top of the vehicles.

They weren't vampires; their random garbles made no sense to him. As he accepted his conclusion, he continued on his way toward Dawn Cafe, craving something hot to thaw his once-again-frozen corpse. For once, he had a pep in his step that had, for two months, disappeared. Occasionally, the dark hedgehog would lapse into a long episode of musing, but he was not walking in a trance as he had for the past four fortnights. No, he had something to work for again. He had to set things straight. He had to kill a few people. He was planning...

The day afforded his targets somewhere around twelve hours of safety, but as soon as darkness fell, he could not waste a minute on idleness. No, he'd find Roderick first. A mental list of soon-to-be victims popped into his mind. There were only two distinct names, belonged to an iguana and a kitten. The third bullet point was simply "everyone else."

He hoped Scholomage and Blair didn't hate him for it; it was simply the way things had to be. He wasn't supposed to be a vampire, and the other vampires simply weren't supposed to be alive. He had things to do once alive, and they- well, they had gotten used to whatever monotonous life death afforded them.

He left his thoughts alone with a shrug, looking around to see how far along he had gotten in his travels. Eventually, he turned onto the right street, which seemed overly dreary under a gray layer or two of slush and ice. Even with his blurry vision, he could still pick out the brown awning of Amy's workplace, which was several blocks down. The scene was familiar, though the last time he had taken it in, he was several stories up, staring out of a window of Rouge's apartment. Shadow turned his gaze upward, looking at the exact window he had crawled though. Was Rouge back, yet? He hadn't checked since her floor man had guessed at the bat girl's most likely location.

He had time to kill, anyway. Dipping into the nearest byway and emerging from it in a smaller, feathered form, the vampire soared skyward, landing on the right flower box and pushing the barely-open window pane up with his beak.

He was nearly knocked from his perch by the horrific stench. The thick, smelly air rolled out of the apartment like a red carpet, and Shadow quickly found that his body no longer had a gag reflex. He didn't know whether to be grateful or disappointed. Swallowing dryly, the little bird hopped into the penthouse, shifting back into his quilled body. The entire house smelled horribly of decay. He couldn't escape it, despite the fact that he wasn't breathing at all. It seemed a horrible trade-off, for the odor wafted into his nose and lingered there, unaffected by his absent breath.

"R-Rouge?" He stammered, pinching his snout between his fingers. He slipped off his jacket, and his now-clammy fur stood on end as he continued further into the abandoned home. It seemed as if death itself had settled in for a long stay, and that observation frightened Shadow far more than he would have liked it to.

The living room was empty, as was the kitchen. As he proceeded down the hall, a new scent hit his nostrils, far more pungent to him than the rotting stench that filled the air. It was one he had become used to: old blood. There was far too much of it, by how heavily the odor hung around. Shadow's heart remained stubbornly frozen, but his body's stillness did nothing to calm his nerve. The bathroom door was ajar, but the place was spotless. The hallway closet was just as pristine. All that was left was Rouge's room.

A wall of thick, putrid air stood before the door. A black streak of blood had trickled out of the room and dried, and the small warning was enough of a foreshadowing for what was behind the portal. Shadow hesitated, then took a step backward. What had happened in this house? Was it Rouge rotting away in the room, or someone else? Had she fled the scene of a gruesome murder? Was she the one left behind? The hedgehog sneered; what would anyone want with Rouge?

His thoughts jumped to a certain young cat, who he knew to be far from caring of people's loved ones. But, even she didn't go find people for no reason, despite her reasoning being extreme.

Shadow swallowed nothing at all and clenched his fists; he'd have to go in. If anything, he needed confirmation of just what it was decomposing behind the richly-accented door.

He reached for the doorknob, turned it, and pushed, but something was lodged against it. Shadow eventually knocked the little barrier open, and he was again slapped in the face by a hot draft of decay and rot. Whatever was blocking the door finally gave way, and the hedgehog stumbled into the room, tripping over the object and smacking onto the carpet with a quiet thud.

The first thing he laid eyes upon in the pitch-black interior was a disembodied face, staring back at him with empty sockets. Voice caught in his throat, he choked on his own yell, and could only manage to jump back and fall onto his tail. His back hit whatever had been blocking to door, and, slowly, he turned to whatever it was, eventually peering down at the rotting doorstop that was a headless cadaver. His gloves were quickly changing color, smudged by the crumbling blood that covered the floor.

"Holy shit," he muttered, staring at the body. He eyes flicked to the eyeless head, and back to the slothing stump that used to be a living body.

It was clear as day; the room had becoming a festering tomb for at least seven more head-and-body pairs. Fourteen fangs glinted in the mouths, pearly white against a gory background. And, the flies; the insipid hum of a thousand pairs of wings had gone unnoticed, but, stuck in this makeshift catacomb, senses primed by fear and disgust, Shadow found time to pay attention to the sinister murmur and eternally shifting ceiling. The cloud swarmed around him, landed on the corpses, laid their eggs and dribbled their spit and-

... He shut the door behind him, fell against it and slipped down, mouth agape as he tried to drag in air that would never fill his lungs, tried to calm a heart that was not beating in the first place. The buzzing was just as loud, even with the door closed firmly between him and the flies. Many had escaped the tomb and now flitted aimlessly throughout the apartment, before escaping in a shadow through the open living-room window.

A million thoughts raced through his no-longer-lit brain. He caught only snippets of the most important ones, and even then, the current of frantic musings washed even those from the forefront of his mind. He did not know what to do, or what not to do, nor had he even finished analyzing everything in the room: the bloody floor, the cloud of flies, the curtained windows, the dead bodies, the severed heads, the fourteen fangs, Rouge's bloody boot...

He stopped his airless breathing, eyes flashing as the image of an eighth body surfaced in his rushing rapids of thought. It was not so indiscreet, hidden on the opposite side of the bed; only her shoe could be seen, jutting out from behind a foot of the furniture, the normally white footwear adorned with a thick, black ribbon of what used to be blood. Rouge was dead. Rouge was dead... it was the only thought running through his mind, now. That, and an idle wonder as to why. Had she gone looking for trouble? Had trouble followed her home? Or was this Lenore's way of flicking him off?

He hoped it was anything but the latter, and not for the kitten's sake. In his mind, she was already destroyed. No, he didn't want it to be Lenore, because then it would ultimately be his fault. He had enough problems with killing people directly. Now he had to deal with persons of interest just dying all around him, because of him.

Again.

A hand fell upon and rattled the doorknob as he stared listlessly down the hall, and Shadow both turned the handle and used it as leverage to rise back onto his feet. The door creaked open, and another swarm of flies escaped from the room. He wasn't going to leave her body there to rot with monsters, even if he had allowed exactly this to transpire for at least a month. He moved into the room deliberately and automatically, his mind elsewhere. He had come looking for his batty friend once before, when she'd first disappeared. He had come to her bedroom door and turned away and left. What if she had been alive, then? What if he could have saved her?

There were the boots, glistening white, save for the blood splattered across the toes and heels. They were still occupied by their owner's feet. Carrying one heavy foot over the other, Shadow continued on toward the other side of the bed, as solemn as a pallbearer called to the coffin. He rounded the corner of the bed, eyes trembling as they fought against his consciousness, wanting to turn away. He didn't let them.

He would have thought his old friend was sleeping. She was curled in something of a comfortable fetal position, her muzzle buried in the bloody carpeting, like a kitten would nuzzle against its mother. Her face wasn't contorted in pain or misery or negativity at all; rather, she looked as if she had simply collapsed and fallen asleep, like an exhausted runner after a grueling marathon. He just had to shake her shoulder or crash some cymbals and she'd get up and fix her hair and explain why she was taking a month-long nap in the middle of a blood-soaked room filled with vampire carcasses, and she'd probably have some sarcastic answer, to boot. And for being dead for a month, she seemed far less decomposed than the other bodies, which were but dry, shriveled husks of their former, lively selves. Nope, Rouge was quite healthy and pristine, and if it weren't for the absence of breath from her nose or barely-opened mouth, or the lack of rises and falls of her chest or stomach, Shadow would have been cursing and kicking and prodding her to get up and stop being such a deceiving jerk.

But, then she turned her head and looked at him, and the hedgehog's entire world turned upside down. Had it not been a most nonchalant glance- had it been even slightly more pained, or stressed, or feeble- Rouge's aquamarine gaze would not have chilled the dark hero to the bone. But, her actions were very lively, and her stare very piercing, and Shadow indeed found himself frozen over.

"Rouge?" he mumbled, for no discernible reason. She pushed herself off of the blood-crusted floor, her eyes never leaving his. A strangled, guttural sound boiled out of Shadow's throat, and for reasons unknown to him, he took a step backward. Confused, afraid, or disoriented: he didn't know what the emotion flooding his mind was, but it had sloshed around in his skull and shorted everything, then leaked into his spinal column and saturated the circuits there, too. His hand twitched as it, too, lost its connection with his brain. He found himself unable to move, unable to look away, an icy current running down his spine, a concrete frost icing over his feet and legs, a suffocating chill filling his lungs. Her eyes were nothing short of portals to a Hellish winter, and Shadow couldn't tell if it was his own panic or life's stark reality that made them glow a sickening, deathly white.

She lunged at him. It was such a cheap shot, he rationalized, still immobilized, right before she slammed into his chest with a sickening screech.

He hit the concrete, the bloody cry still reverberating in his ears as his head clacked against the cold, hard ground. His head was swimming, his vision dark and blurred, save for the stars flying past. Blinded by daze, he instinctively threw his knee into his attacker's stomach, and missed, just as ten claws buried themselves in his shoulders, hefted him off of the ground, and threw him into a wall of the alley. Crack! There went his skull, his consciousness, his life... he felt himself fall away from the bricks, and smack onto the pavement. It was so dark, and so quiet, save for the footsteps, and the flapping, and the cawing, and the hissing. Blood pouring from his head, he fell into a coma before they even bit him...

Liquor... liquor...

"SHIT!" He screamed as he hit the ground, throwing a fist into Rouge's demented face, then furiously swiping his knuckles once more, this time at the fangs in her mouth. He missed. The first punch had knocked her away. Shadow jumped to his feet and dived for the bed as his friend shot past him, her claws snatching a bit of black fur from his back. Rouge, a vampire: he hurriedly accepted the fact with what little time he had to do so.

Again, she tackled him, and they tumbled off of the bed. Shadow found himself between a rock and a hard place- or, at least, some maggot-filled carcass and Rouge. He grabbed her wrists, not noticing that her claws were headed for his throat, but becoming very aware as his jugular was torn apart, along with his windpipe. He luckily didn't need those, at the moment. The hedgehog wrenched his friend's nails from his neck, ignoring the half-congealed blood stretching between his fur and the weapons, and tossed the psychotic bat back over the bed with the help of his feet.

"Rouge, Rouge, Rouge!" He yelled, half of his voice escaping as a hiss through his neck. He clamped a hand over the gaping hole at his throat, and stood, peering cautiously over the bed. She hadn't gotten up yet. Was this what the commissioner had foretold: rabid monsters in too long an absence of blood?

Well, he didn't have that much, or any, to spare.

Carefully, the dark hedgehog crept from around the bed, tense in case of- yep! Rouge lunged at him, eyes glazed over in a most severe blood-lust, but her quarry was no longer in such a state of panic. Muttering a half-honest apology, Shadow performed a quick roundhouse kick, smacking his friend in the side of her head and sending her flying into the headboard of the bed. He didn't waste time; she was already up. He turned on a heel and rocketed out of the room, closing the door on his monstrous, hysteric pursuer. In mid-flight, she hit the door with a clatter and a shriek. The wooden barrier rattle and banged on its hinges as the crazed vampire attacked it, and Shadow held it tightly closed, thankful that such an unstable mind on the other side could not fathom the inner workings and purposes of a door's handle. Slowly, the thrashing on the other side subsided, and something heavy thumped onto the floor. After several seconds of silence, Shadow removed his hand from the door, holding his palm forward as if beckoning the barrier to stay closed.

What now? It was the sole thought running through his mind. How did he move forward, now? He had to help Rouge, but, how? He couldn't get her to leave him alone, let alone take her to a kill. He found himself ambling into the bathroom, and flicking on the switch.

The gravity of the situation hit him like the light from the many incandescent bulbs. It wasn't just about him anymore. Shadow stood in front of the mirror, craning his head back and watching the shredded veins and tubes and flesh in his throat heal over and close. For being dead, he certainly cleaned up much better than his living neighbors... But, his attention wasn't wholly on the incredible feat. He had to help Rouge, and not just by getting her some blood. His plans were suddenly on hold; he couldn't go on a vampire-killing spree, lest he accidentally kill Rouge's killer. But, what if he was already dead, killed off by Lenore or the cops or Sonic? What if Rouge couldn't figure out who it was? Were they supposed to amble around for eternity, looking for someone they might never find?

He couldn't think that far ahead. He, Shadow the Hedgehog, was lost on how to proceed. He snapped from his useless thoughts and looked back into the mirror. He was covered in his own blood, and little chunks of moldy, slimy flesh, and he had the distinct feeling of something crawling over him. With a sigh, he moved toward the shower.

First thing's first.


Shadow's Notes

Vampires require a daily helping of blood in order to function. In the absence of sanguine nutrients, vampires will enter a frenzied state, appearing rabid to untrained eyes, and will attack and bite anything that moves, including other vampires. The blood taken from undead bodies will not alleviate the condition. If bitten, vampires will enter the same state. If after fourty-eight hours, the afflicted vampire does not receive blood, he or she will enter a state of torpor, only reanimating in the presence of a blood source, and then falling back into the dormant state in its absence. After three months of no viable food, the vampire will wither and mummify, only reviving if soaked on blood.

Author Commentary

... Hey, hey, you guys still there? An update four months in the making, eh? Literally... Sorry about that GIGANTIC pause. College smacked me around and tore me a new one. However, Sunset is back to its at-least-weekly-updated schedule, so do stick around! Tell your friends! Tell your friends' friends!

Um... not much to say, actually. Just wanted to apologize. A few people PMed me about the story, and I didn't want to worry anyone any further! So, I'm back, and So are Shadow, Lenore, Blair, and... Rouge?! Sorry this chapter is soooo long for just having two scenes. ;3 Hope I didn't tl;dr some of me faithful readers! ^^;; I promise, no more long chapters... until the climax ^^!!

Yes, there will be blood xD!

Anyway, hopefully, Shadow's Notes explained some things for y'all. And, as always, if you have any theories concerning Sunset, feel free to PM them to me! ^^ If you're right, you're right, but I'm not deviating from this story's path, so it's all good!

Peace out, and stay outta alleys! *already lost one luckless reader*