BUNNY PLUS BLACK
There are a plethora of cosmic entities that exist just beyond the boundaries of the human intellect. They love to entertain themselves with the activities of 'lesser' life-forms. One such beast is the Radiant Blood Mask. A planet-sized fog drawn only by budding bloodlust. She bestows selected individuals with gifts to prolong their conquest and rejoices in their spoils. She blesses anyone she pleases, and only demands that her benefactors relish themselves in their most violent of desires.
Many Mobians and Men have created dozens of small groups to utilize her abilities. They're quite ritualistic in their endeavors, opting to delve deep into the decrepit arts to achieve their dreams. They have no sense of morality or care for societal expectations, nothing will please these souls as much as the sufferings of others. Their only stopping hand may come at the grip of death himself. Indeed, their conquests give rise to a unique type of fable, one where the darkest of societal's outcasts may charge forth and bring the judgment the weaker lack.
CHAPTER 1 - HOMEWRECKER
Shadow's current apartment complex was uncomfortably cramped, like a setting fit for storing brooms and miniature wares. Its only features were some wooden closet, a misty mirror by a wall-affixed sink, and a compact window that loomed towards the ceiling. The crimson-stroked hedgehog was apathetic towards his conditions. By the time his bat companion had discovered him, he'd already managed with a six-hour rest upon the hard mattress he'd been offered. She stood idly by his open door, staring through with a deep look of dismay. Mr. Fukunaga, the gold-hearted geezer that let him rest here, offered his own words of assurance.
"I told you Rogue," he said, "he's as dead as a rock."
Shadow's eyelids fluttered. His vision shifted into focus and caught the concerning glow of Rogue's figure. Her motherly appearance gave the scene a feverish mood.
"Where the hell have you been?" he mumbled.
OOOOO
"We'll cover the damages, and the rent," Rogue said.
The three stood silently in Mr. Fukanaga's hallway. It was a glacial 4:00 AM that fateful Tuesday and most of the tenants were still sound asleep. Shadow's suitcase had already been packed for departure. He stood behind Rogue like the guilty child of a school mother, paying no heed to the words she exchanged with Mr. Fukanaga. His emotions were still tipsy from last night's sleep. The world itself felt illusory, like a sequence of many blurry images.
"Usually, I'd be inclined to accept such a reward, but I doubt I'll be standing here if your friend hadn't saved my life last night," the landlord argued.
"Don't patronize us," Rogue said, "we can afford it, we're not broke or anything."
"No," Mr. Fukunaga said, "the goodwill of others must always be repaid with reward, that's what keeps this world going, I won't trouble you kids for a pay-cheque but I implore you to keep going before the weather picks up."
The three finished their conversation outside the apartment building, where Shadow and Rogue made their final good-byes before departing down Mavis Street, a little subsection of the Rosemary Suburbs. A location that Shadow found as meaningless as the night before.
"So, mind telling me where you were last night?" Rogue asked.
"Making the world a better place," the hedgehog replied, as he dragged his suitcase through the pavement. It was supposed to accompany him to a nearby motel, but he'd lost the key during last night's scuffle.
"By breaking someone's legs?"
Shadow grunted and rubbed his temples with the left thumb. "Does it matter?"
"Does it matter? You want to get us into trouble?"
The two reached an intersection, Rogue pushed her right thumb against the push-to-walk bulb and awaited the go-ahead signal.
"Look at this place," Shadow remarked, motioning his hands around the barren environment, "it's empty, desolate, no signs of that damn Eggman or any evil of a similar kind."
"So?"
"So, given that it's my goal to serve as humanity's nonchalant protector, I must find evil in smaller places."
Rogue rolled her eyes. "You don't think the usual street thug might be a bit underpowered to deal with the ultimate life-form?"
"Hmph, the fists of justice are impartial, I deal with whoever I want, big or small. If they want to prey on the weak they only have themselves to blame for the backlash."
"And if you end up killing them in the process?"
Shadow shrugged. Rogue's disgust escalated, she charged and dragged Shadow by his mane. Luckily for her, few were around to see this confrontation. "Listen you 'bringer of darkness', if you can't keep yourself sane enough to last a day without nearly killing someone, then how do you expect your girlfriend to do her job?"
"Girlfriend, where's that coming from?" Shadow asked, his expression remaining firmly apathetic.
"It's an offer I've been putting on the table, but you're too much of an empty-skull to get it."
The green digitally encoded man appeared, the time to cross was now. Shadow pushed Rogue away and dusted his shoulders. "Come look for me when you stop chasing after that blasted echidna."
"I just might."
They continued their journey a few meters onwards and cut their streak with a sharp right turn to Seven Heaven's Alleyway, where hipsters and the college kids swooned. Some brownish tavern-looking coffee shop called the Sheep's Serving was just a few inches ahead in their glacial walk. Its drive-way carried the unfamiliar shape of a second-hand mini-van and its rabbit owner.
"What's this?" Shadow asked, halting their footsteps.
"Your new job," Rogue explained, "I promised Vanilla I'd take her out, but then I got busy, and now you're doing it."
"Why?"
"Partially because I find the act of hanging out with that rabbit to be quite, tedious."
"By tedious you mean 'severely lacking in financial assets worth uprooting'."
"You really think I'd stoop so low, Shadow?"
"I don't expect anything more out of you at this point."
The right-front door of the vehicle swung wide open. Cream, the cheery sweet crop of the Sonic team, burst out in joy and fled to the couple's position.
"Uncle Shadow!" she yelled, attacking the unsuspecting black hedgehog with a strong embrace around his waist.
"How adorable," Rogue said, "she calls you uncle now."
"Regretfully so," Shadow whispered.
"Uncle Shadow, look what I made," Cream waved a mash of wooden sticks and plaster at his face. This was her 'doll'. "I found some sticks outside and I used some glue and look, look, I made it look just like you Uncle Shadow!"
Uncanny was the best word to describe it. If Cream's goal was to replicate Shadow's inner turmoil, she'd nailed it in an avant-garde sense. "It's quite, dross," Shadow remarked.
"Dross?" Cream asked, dumbfounded, "what does that mean?"
"It means he loves it dear," Rogue said, kneeling a bit lower to ruffle her long ears. She soon left the two to their own devices, and with a peck on Shadow's cheeks departed from the scene, "stay out of trouble, okay?"
"Where's Rogue?" Vanilla asked as Shadow began stuffing his suitcase into the back of the vehicle with a happy Cream joyfully skipping onwards by his side.
"Who knows what that bat is doing these days." The hedgehog approached Vanilla's side of the vehicle and spoke to her through the front window. "Just tell me where the place is."
"Sure, but do get in first," Vanilla said, "you don't want to freeze out in the cold, do you, Mr. Shadow?"
"I'll take the cold over the car."
Cream ceased her dancing, "Uncle Shadow's not riding with us?" she asked.
"'Uncle Shadow' is way faster than this excuse for transport," Shadow sneered.
Vanilla was slightly distraught at his statement. Shadow's pessimistic outlook on the world was a depressing weight on her emotions. She'd respect his wishes.
"If you wish," she said, with a mask of fake glee hiding her displeasure. "It's Sixty-Five, Crescent Road, just right next to the Lutheranism Embassy."
"Can I go with Shadow Mom?" Cream asked.
"No dear, get in the car."
"But mom, I'm sure I can keep up."
"Cream?" Vanilla asked with a stern tone, "car, now please."
Cream's ears drooped. She complied. "Okay."
"Don't keep me waiting," Shadow grunted. He distanced himself from Vanilla's mini-van, readjusted his shoes with a few ground clicks, and burst forth into a hazy black blur. A few passerby's cheered in observance of his magnitude. The rabbit wasn't impressed. With a sigh, she turned to Cream as she got into the passenger seat and questioned her about her ambitions.
"What do you see in that hedgehog, dear?"
"He's cool, and fast, like Sonic."
"But he's nowhere near charming."
"Everyone's so charming these days mom, but people like Shadow are so cool because they're not charming."
"Is that so?" Vanilla said with a tone of disappointment.
"Yeah!" Cream yelped, "it's 'cool' to be not nice once in a while."
"A lady should never be 'not-nice'," Vanilla whispered as she clicked in her belt, "anyway this shouldn't take us more than two hours, it's just a friendly visit and we're off."
"Sure Mom!" Cream yelled in glee, before buckling her own. She was so thrilled. Uncle Shadow was actually going to be with her today, and she couldn't believe it. She had so many questions to ask him, so many games she wanted to play with him. And she'd get to bother him relentlessly for the next two hours.
"Mom, are you going to marry Shadow?" Cream asked.
Vanilla froze at the question, her hands hovered over the ignition.
"Where on Earth did you get that idea from?" she demanded.
"I don't know, but like won't it be cool if Shadow was my Dad?"
The old rabbit hissed at the thought and started the vehicle, "please don't ask me that again," she murmured.
"Oh, okay, I love you, Mom."
"I love you too dear."
Four souls stood in eery silence as they observed the ashes of their work.
The Four Cuts of Saturn, a quad-team of hell's worst Mobian elite, created to serve under one of the Mask's many admirers: Cult of July
Suspended underneath the crescent moon was the half-digested corpse of their organization's favored bride. Her body had been scattered against a ravaged patch of land; the grass surrounding it had been rooted and thrown asunder. The wolves couldn't even summon the decency to hide the carcass before ripping it to shreds.
"It's fresh," Verkas, the red cat, noted, "they went for the neck first and severed her vocal cords restricting her screams."
Atanis, elder ruler of the Cuts and favored believer, stood idly by in despair as his two years of effort lay shattered by his feet. The old blue rabbit eased his fingers, dropped his staff, and fell to his knees. His optimism had betrayed him, and the vultures of guilt circled his waning confidence.
"Our sins must be rectified," he declared, "tomorrow, we shall find another."
"Who?" his right-hand, Jebediah, asked.
"Whoever is worthy of walking atop humanity's ashes."