My lasagne friend: I'm so glad you reviewed again! And I'm also glad you're unnecessarily invested in this story because you like the writing style. Thank you again for the reviews. They make me smile when I wake up. ^^
Alright, here we go.
This one's a little heavy; 5,700 words of emotion and memories. Strap yourselves in, it might grt a bit numpy along the way.
Thank you again to all my reviewers! I honestly can't remember if I replied to you guys or not on the last chapter. Someone who decides to review this one, drop me a note if I did or not? If not, you'll get double mailbox love!
I hope you enjoy this extra-length dedication to all the love you've been leaving me.
FOR HER FUTURE
The hospital room is quiet, a steady silence only interrupted by the sharp, reassuring bleep of the patient's heart monitor. Heavy doors and thick windows that see external noise kept to a minimum do their job almost too well, leaving the air in the private suite thick and heavy with the sterile scents of antiseptic and bleach.
A waif-like figure drowns in sheets on the bed, pale skin accentuated by the spiderweb of blue veins visible beneath. Thick tubes snake up the human's delicate nostrils, delivering essential oxygen directly to her lungs, while a matrix of thinner plastic cylinders coil across her body to monitor blood pressure, deliver saline and glucose solutions, or record heart rate.
Harriet Towers has been in a medically-induced coma for months now. Not wanting her to suffer, Towers had signed the necessary papers without hesitation, and as she went under he supported her. His expression had been confident and his grasp on her hand reassuring, but within he'd splintered. History was repeating itself in the worst possible way, the pain not dulled by experience as another who'd stolen his heart seemed determined to rip it from his chest.
Every Saturday, he sits with her, reading the paper or perusing his emails on a tablet. The porters know him so well they bring him what would have been his wife's meals and make small talk. Betty serves him soup and a sandwich while describing her new dog, a scrappy terrier breed she's called Teddy, and her kind positivity lifts his sour mood a short while.
Once she's gone, he talks to his wife softly as he keeps busy. With little other material to draw from, he talks about work, about GUN's financial status, managing supplies and share values. Even if she can't hear him, he wants her to know he's there, that he'll never abandon her, that he's as much her pillar of support as she was his.
Maria's untimely demise had scarred him and, unable to remember the details, he'd utilised all available avenues attempting to get his memories back - therapy, hypnosis, meditation, even mindfulness - but nothing provided closure, or filled the deep gauge in his chest.
A broken young man, it had been Harriet's love that patched his heart back together, a strong bandaid over a gaping wound, but it was adequate. With her support, he managed to rise through the ranks from cadet to the youngest Commander in Chief since GUN's inception in just a decade.
Seventeen tranquil years passed in this newfound happiness. Though they were not graced with children they remained content in one another's company, the weekends away from the office filled with expensive trips abroad, cruises around the world and quiet time together in their mansion.
With the past laid to an uneasy rest, he focused on the present with a beautiful woman who reminded him so much of dear Maria.
Eggman's revival of the hybrid was an uncomfortable reminder of this shelved history. Initially, he'd been disappointed his former acquaintance wouldn't be able to assist his recollection, but this soon became second to the relief that Shadow had no memories of their previously difficult relationship.
Pity even surfaced at one point, because it soon became obvious the hedgehog remembered nothing of his time aboard the ARK. Every experience he'd endured, good or bad, had been erased, all replaced by a single, fabricated recollection the girl's grandfather put in their place.
In the throes of his own grief, the Professor altered his creation's purpose to be that of revenge, a plan almost seen to completion by Shadow and the scientist's own grandson.
When all was concluded and rumours surfaced that the hybrid had survived his traumatic return to Earth without a protective capsule, Towers couldn't ignore them. No living thing should've survived such a fall - at least not a normal creature - and that put Shadow in a class of his own without even considering his Chaotic potential.
Knowing the fierce loyalty the Mobian would endow on anyone who assisted him, alongside an ongoing mental instability leaving him susceptible to manipulation, Towers poured all available resources into finding the hedgehog. Reaching out to him for an alliance, he played to Shadow's self-confidence, offering a suitably important role - leader of the newly formed Team Dark, an executive strike squad solely deployed against international-level threats such as Eggman.
With Rouge set the task of monitoring him, life settled into routine once more, concerns over the ebony barely registering on Towers radar with Harriet by his side. Three more years passed without incident, a calm before the storm if ever the was one.
One harsh winter and a serious case of pneumonia later, everything changed.
Harriet's lungs were devastated by the illness; seventy percent of the small sacs specialised in collecting oxygen from the air were destroyed beyond repair, and her immune system was rendered ineffective by antibiotics. The damage was so severe she'd been added to the transplant list, the once vivacious woman now indefinitely confined to a wheelchair and tethered to an oxygen tank.
Every winter would bring with it another illness, more antibiotics and a decline in health until she required hospitalisation in just a few short years. Towers paid for world-renowned doctors and the best medicines to assist her, even her own private room to keep secondary illnesses to a minimum, but still she continued to deteriorate.
The Commander in Chief of the Guardian Unit of Nations isn't accustomed to feeling useless. His heart aches as the love of his life slip through his fingers, the strength of his grasp meaningless against the tide of time as he's forced to watch his saviour progressively worsen.
Fifteen months have passed since Harriet was put into a medically-induced coma. Since then, little has changed. Nothing but a donor match can save her and, otherwise unable to help, all he can do is talk.
Out of benign material to cover, Towers sighs and folds the paper in half, setting it aside. "Rouge went to Knothole this morning," he tells his wife, resting his forearms on his knees and entwining his hands, head hung. He'd have rather sent anyone else, but taking Rouge off the Knothole Inquest would've been too suspicious, given her connections to its inhabitants.
"Which means that avenue of leverage on Miss Rose and Shadow is dead. Her staying neutral when her friends are involved is as likely as Shadow making me a daisy chain." The image of the hedgehog, sat cross-legged in a field of flowers wearing a crown of dandelions, is as disturbing as it is humorous when it materialises in his mind.
A soft snort and a shake of the head sees it dispelled.
He glances sideways at his tablet. As per usual, the electronic device had been predominantly silent this weekend, but what was normally a welcome break from the demands of his job makes him anxious today. Both Rouge and Shadow have yet to send correspondence regarding their endeavours. The pair were both obsessively punctual when it came to reports and paperwork, and the unusual wait is murder on his nerves.
Having already flagged Knothole as a lost cause, it's Amy's Contract of Care that has him antsy. "And believe it or not, Shadow's managed to get himself a girl." A smart girl, as the female's familiarity with legal documentation threw a spanner into the usually smooth-running cogs of GUN's contracts and legislation. Fancy words and intricate clauses weren't going to fool her into signing as they usually did Shadow, and by extension the dark hedgehog was now protected from such ploys.
A humourless puff of air portrays Towers' opinion on that to his silent wife. Her faux-surprised tone echoes in his head, the woman always sure anyone could find love given time and opportunity. "I know, but it complicates matters. Though it does also create possibilities." Taking another tact, the legal team were instructed to intentionally simplify the wording this time.
Ideally, she'd believe the simplicity of her own contract a victory against bureaucracy and sign the thing without reservation.
If so instructed and adequately paid, certain staff could be trusted to make sure her first two uses of GUN's clinical resources utilised both conflicting policies. With one use drawn from Amy's personal Contract of Care and the other use as Shadow's dependent, it would be easy to have both of them detained for suspected fraud, even simpler to stretch the inquest beyond her due date and have the child taken into care whilst its parents were still incarcerated.
He doesn't voice that part to his wife. Her kind heart would see her disagree with the idea of taking a child from its parents, even if they were criminal or unstable. "Can you imagine it, love? If the child's affiliation with the Chaos Fabric is as strong as Shadow's? Having another Mobian of mass destruction that could be trained as an agent would strengthen Station Square no end."
While Amy's impregnation had initially seemed to be a compounding factor, he now views the baby as a blessing; with a potentially more agreeable Project Shadow being nurtured in Amy's womb - one who could be conditioned from birth, and raised as obedient - the loss of Shadow as an active agent is less significant.
It's been fifty-seven years since Professor Gerald Robotnik failed to produce stem cells (biological tissue able to become any specialised tissue in the body, if given the right signals) from Project Shadow's regenerative tissue samples. With the leaps medical science has taken, this time they could be successful, given the opportunity.
Silence envelopes him, accentuating his sadness as he looks to the frail woman now. The soft beep of her heart beat is the only reply she can muster. "If we can reinstate Professor Gerald's research, maybe…" Tears threaten the edges of his eyes and he blinks them away, drawing on an iron resolve that's still relatively new to him. "Maybe he could fix you, Harriet."
Selflessness is not a trait the Commander associates with the hybrid, who he guesses would never willingly submit himself to painful testing and splicing experiments for the good of Mobain or Man. His compassion never stretched beyond Maria in the past, and there is little evidence to prove this has changed since his revival.
Returning Shadow to his former lab-rat status has been the human's objective for some time, ever since Harriet became hospitalised. His incarceration and subsequent return to stasis would've allowed for the reinstatement of genetic research on the creature, and attempts at encouraging tissue samples from the hybrid to make replacement tissues for others could resume.
Working towards this goal was as simple as backing the hedgehog into increasingly small contractual boxes, an exploitation of his ignorance and impatience with the intent of using even a minor breach of contract to justify his containment, then rile him up until he commited a crime worth the desired punishment.
Admittedly, this plan had delayed by continued threats, namely Eggman and his schemes, for years. Now these threats have been neutralised, it's one less factor to consider, and it makes the likelihood of Shadow's incarceration much more promising.
Of course, the fuschia hedgehog herself could be an issue, but only a minor one given the estrangement of her old allies. It wouldn't be difficult to fabricate another assault, this time out of season to raise its severity. Chaos, he could even be charitable and let the pair be incarcerated together, so long as the ebony hybrid continued to submit to the tests and procedures required of him.
A light ting from the tablet signifies the arrival of an email as a slight smirk touches his lips. Everything's coming together nicely, it seems. He isn't even perturbed by the lack of a signed contract in the report as everything begins to slot into place in his mind.
Yes. For the good of Harriet and the thousands of those like her, the Ultimate Lifeform will bow to reason.
And if said submission has to be forced? Then so be it.
oOoOo
Shadow watches in awed silence as a grainy, monochrome 'Other-Shadow' on the screen before him looks about the small, electronic screen with overt trepidation. His body language is tense; his ears are pert and alert, rotating at the slightest sounds, and dark quills remain slightly raised in agitation.
Bare hands grip the metal table he sits on tightly, the incessant tapping of an anxious claw on steel originating from below. Other-Shadow hasn't been told what's about to happen, but the hybrid watching does, not because he's been told but because he'd lived this exact scenario just a few days prior.
He hadn't known the mirror opposite worked like a window from the other side. He can see the reflections of other scientists now, but then it'd seemed like a reflective glass wall and nothing more.
He may never be able to look at mirrors in the same way again, but that revelation isn't what has him awe-struck. No, what has him at a loss for words is the fact he's watching an event he's already experienced replay again, but publicly and from an entirely different angle.
"Isn't it marvelous?" An ear rotates towards the Professor, but he doesn't look away from the monitor, entranced by the familiarity of events. As a door opens out of frame, Other-Shadow pivots rapidly to observe the newcomer and flinches as his claws screech across the metal table's underside.
The nervous, apologetic expression that marrs his muzzle in the aftermath appears weak, and Shadow detests it. He turns slightly to regard Professor Gerald Robotnik instead, who stands tall with his arms folded across his chest and torso puffed out in pride, as if he invented the thing. A confident stance, even if the large bushy moustache quirking into a smile looks peculiar.
Greying lip-fur with the hint of auburn jitters as he speaks. "A recording. A visual and audio record of the past, immortalised for future generations. Spectacular!" A tinny mockery of the booming scientist's voice emitting from the screen draws Shadow's attention back to the recording, where the Other-Professor's bulky frame has come into view with his back to the mirror wall.
Other-Shadow pays close attention to the dichromatic Professor as he speaks, a hint of confusion on his face as the man projects his voice more than usual, seemingly addressing a third party for some time before speaking with the hedgehog directly.
He can remember the conversation word for word, and mouths his own quiet responses. A heavy and uncomfortable familiarity sinks into his bones as he observes the unconscious ticks Other-Shadow exhibits; touching his face, ear flickering before any answer, lightly scratching the table with a claw point.
All of these are weaknesses, a demonstration of the cracks within. No wonder the humans hold dominion so easily, he thinks with annoyance.
Despite these observations regarding his behaviour, the vector for it still intrigues him no end. Screens were usually reserved for the scientists' use. Having never interacted with one directly before, he takes the opportunity to investigate, standing just millimetres from the screen as inquisitive crimson irises track the movement both the Other Creatures and some artifacts of the recording process across the width of the device.
Unsatisfied with the information gathered thus far, Shadow splays his bare hand and presses his fingers to the screen only to jolt slightly in surprise. Electricity discharges from the smooth glass and raises the fur on contact, resembling an after-bath fluffiness. It's a tickle compared to some voltages he's endured, but he studies the raised fur with his head tilted in thought, not familiar with the static effect.
When he looks back, Other-Shadow is holding a puzzle, a three-dimensional cube made from many smaller cubes that rotate on an internal axis. While they appear to be various shades of grey in the recording, each visible face of the small cubes were actually a different vivid colour, already all mixed up together.
Shadow knows now that he's supposed to rotate the cubes on their axis to get all the sides of the same colour onto a single face of the large cube, managing to complete every face at once meaning the puzzle was beaten. The concept is comically simple but intrinsically difficult to master, the Professor stating it's an exercise in logic.
Rewatching the event, he can only squint in discomfort as Other-Shadow proceeds to peel the colored stickers off and move them manually. Laughter erupts from the observers and draws Other-Shadow's curious gaze to the mirror wall, a sticker still on a finger tip as he pauses mid-move.
His ear-tips redden in embarrassment as Other-Professor fixes the puzzle and carefully explains the concept again, showing the monochrome hedgehog how to rotate the pieces and waiting for a nod of understanding before handing it back.
With the device is back in his paws, Other-Shadow's proceeds to begin solving it, his neutral frown deepening in concentration as his fingers rotate too rapidly for the camera to capture. Very soon the monochrome hedgehog is absently turning the completed puzzle over as he studies it, a curiousness crossed with confusion in his features as he offers the simple toy back to Other Professor.
Whispers of surprise and approval are exchanged by the observers near the recorder. He learns from their brief conversation that rapid motor dexterity is innate to Mobian hedgehogs, but his own seems to 'surpass the usual parameters', a phrase he mentally pins to decipher with his dictionary that evening.
He completed the puzzle in nine seconds, apparently fast for never having done it before.
The recording shudders as Other-Shadow holds the puzzle out for the Other-Professor to take, then flickers to black as the real Professor speaks. "GUN will appreciate that more than another dry report. It should pacify them for a while, but I doubt it will be long."
The statement draws Shadow's attention, his brows furrowing as he turns. The scientist's posture is entirely different since he last looked, proud shoulders now hunched and an arm hanging limply at his side while a hand rubs his wrinkled forehead.
"Professor?" The Mobian's voice is low and measured, the tone mimicked from his human role model in place of the previous quiet shyness. When the aging man looks up, Shadow can only assume their gazes meet - the truth obscured by the tinted spectacles the Professor never removes - but lines on the human's face express worry, and this in turn worries the hedgehog.
He harbours an immense amount of respect for this human caretaker, regarding both his intelligence and compassion after the technicians had erroneously interpreted Shadow's early fear and associated responses - biting, clawing, snarls and growls alongside lack of cooperation - for a primitive mindset, resulting in him being treated like a disobedient circus animal for over nine months after his creation.
When the Professor learned he'd been misinformed of Shadow's mental capacities, the man had swiftly attempted to rectify the situation. After a few intelligence tests, Shadow's holding cell was transformed; the bundle of blankets he'd used as a nest were removed for a real mattress with pillows, sheets and blankets, and the room was stacked with books, learning materials and what he'd discover to be drawing utensils.
All of a sudden, life exploded with possibility. All thanks to Maria and Gerald Robotnik. For that, the Professor had his undying loyalty, along with all the emotions associated with a friend when he seemed troubled.
The Professor consciously straightens his posture, tilting his shoulders back as he presses his hands into lab coat pockets. He stares past the hedgehog though, seeming detached as his tone takes a nostalgic turn. "Maria and I came to the ARK on the advent of her fifth birthday, almost five years ago."
A glance from the man is all Shadow garners before he looks away again. "An extraordinary length time for you to comprehend, my boy. She is ten times older than you, having spent half of that here, on the ARK." Dark brows draw together as he tries to quantify the time frame, but Professor Robotnik doesn't pause to allow it. "Her disease became evident at three, when she ended up in hospital for three months after an autoimmune reaction to her own kidneys."
Shadow shudders at the mention of a hospital. His understanding of the places is of plague, institutions the nearly-dead descended upon in the hope of a miracle. If Maria had been in hospital, then... "She nearly died."
Without looking back her Grandfather nods. As he speaks, his focus seems to be on the black screen Other-Shadow had inhabited, on their reflections in the glass. "The bill for her care was too immense for her parents to handle. They absconded the city and haven't been heard from since."
The growl that escapes Shadow's throat is instinctual, an expression of his distaste for anyone who would abandon their kin in such a manner. He cuts it off as soon as he becomes aware of it, but there's a small smile on the Professor's face now as he continues. "As her only remaining relative, I was contacted to pay her fees. She was released into my custody soon afterwards, but her health continued to deteriorate."
Sadness nullifies the appreciative smirk as Shadow follows his gaze back to their reflections. "Already working for GUN as a biotechnical engineer, negotiating a new contract where part of my wages went straight to the hospital to fund her stay in a sterile environment was easy." He looks to the hedgehog again for just a moment. "She stayed in that single room for almost two years."
Two years. Twice my age, the hedgehog realises as Robotnik looks back to the screen. She'd lived in a single room just like Shadow had, but without any of the reprieves he had when released for tests. Two years of the same four walls.
"Then GUN approached me about a new endeavour. The lead scientist for 'Project Shadow'." He's speaking in a near whisper, but Shadow's ears pick it up easily, both the tone and mention of his experimental designation raising goosebumps on his arms. "A bioweapon research task force to be based on a space colony."
The sigh that passes his lips is confident. "Of course, when told I could bring Maria, I agreed. She'd finally get out of that room and have an entire sterile complex to explore, and while my team handled GUN's demands I could focus on curing my granddaughter."
Shadow nods slowly in understanding, but the mention himself has left him uneasy. The brief obviously doesn't match the final result; he isn't a microscopic biological weapon, but an entire organism capable of complex thoughts and feelings.
Something must've gone very awry.
Professor Robotnik doesn't seem to notice his concerns, moving on swiftly. "We did make advancements, but not those GUN requested. The team made some headway on gene therapy, and a number of new antibiotics were developed. We did a lot of good for the world at large, but nothing we developed could help Maria, and GUN continued to pressure us for results."
Shadow watches the Professor's reflection's features harden and jaw tighten, his tone becoming gruff. "After two years, the Commander in Chief gave us an ultimatum; develop something worth their investment before our contracts expired in another three years, or be fired and return to Earth unemployed."
Thanks to the brief history Professor Robotnik had just explained, the seriousness of the situation isn't lost on Shadow. Without the sterile environment of the ARK and no job to fund more hospital stays, Maria would surely die.
"I did what was necessary, what I thought would yield results, what would save Maria's life." The human's tone drops to a determined hardness that has Shadow's quills raising defensively, adrenaline flooding into his veins as a fearful anticipation takes his consciousness hostage. He doesn't want to know how he's different, or understand why all the tests and procedures occur.
If the professor senses this desire for blissful ignorance, he continues on regardless, determined to tell his creation the truth. "I made a deal with an extraterrestrial species known as the Black Arms, an alien horde conceived in the bowels of hell and born through the desecration of planets."
The short silence before he continues only makes it worse. "I was gifted the genetic material of their leader, and used it to hybridise the hedgehog DNA I possessed to make you, Shadow." His stomach plummets to his ankles as bile rises in his throat, and he can't stop staring at the Professor's reflection in that damn monitor as words continue to flow from his mouth. "In return, I promised them the Earth. They'll return for you in fifty years to claim you as their heir, and everyone else on Earth to feed their young."
Hybrid: The offspring of two plants or animals of different species or varieties, such as a mule.
Shadow can't breathe; he knows the definition of hybrid after a number of laboratory technicians took to referring to him as such in passing, but never has he considered he'd been spliced with an alien species. Even all that aside, to believe the Professor would wager an entire planet against his granddaughter's health was madness, wasn't it?
He won't stop talking, and the hedgehog has to suppress the urge to command the man to stop speaking despite his respect. He feels overwhelmed with information and expectations all in one moment, and it isn't helping the feeling of panic.
"You're the Ultimate Lifeform, Shadow; the longevity of the Black Arms combined with the limitless potential of Chaos." He's read of this energy, but it exists in every living Mobian, sewn into their DNA during creation. He doesn't understand what's being implied by the elderly man.
Professor Robotnik seems to notice the ebony's distress and his reflection's expression softens, his voice dropping to a lower, more reassuring tone that doesn't match the heaviness of his words. "You possess talents beyond your intellectual pursuits, Shadow." The memory of breaking free of containment in a flurry of red lightning flares into his consciousness, the carnage he left in his wake branded into his memory as the first thing he'd seen in freedom.
"You have already proven to be quite destructive. If we can reach your full potential, I imagine GUN will be interested in employing you as an agent. With Project Shadow a success, we can convince the Commander to maintain our funding. I can continue researching Maria's illness while GUN focuses on you."
That statement leaves Shadow unsteady. The prospect of essentially having another's life in his hands is staggering, but this is a chance to repay Maria and the Professor for all they've invested in him. This is the chance to give her the same opportunity she gave him; life uncensored, time and opportunity to make the most of her existence aboard the ARK, and perhaps eventually see her cured.
"I won't lie to you, my boy, it won't be enjoyable." Noticing his vision has unfocused, Shadow blinks away his own thoughts and looks to the elder, who in turn now looks at him directly as he speaks. "You'll be subjected to strenuous physical and Chaotic training regimes. They'll request organ-specific tissue samples, invasive surgical procedures and an in-depth detailed analysis of your biology."
Pudgy fingers push his spectacles back up the broad ridge of his nose. "But it's only a request. You can refuse, if you wish. I won't force you to do anything without consent, but if you do help us, I'll do everything within my power to improve your quality of life."
Shadow listens with detached humour as the Professor rattles off possible changes; an actual bedroom in the ARK complex, freedom to explore the space colony to its fullest, access to all the learning materials and books they had, and free time to socialise with the children between tests and other commitments.
Moreover, the suggestion of developing these abilities connected to Chaos is appealing. He'd almost forgotten the gifts even existed after having inhibitors fitted straight after his escape, the very fact they made the things in advance in case they needed them an indication of the fear this potential invoked in the other scientists on the ARK.
He's tired of living under these humans, of fearing their greater numbers and believing he's inherently lesser because of his species. With the Professor's help, he can unlock his potential and take control of his life, expand his horizons even further than Maria and the Professor had already managed to achieve.
Befriending Maria along the way would be a bonus.
As Professor Robotnik continues to spew possible boons, Shadow regards his own reflection with a critical eye. After a moment he consciously straightens his posture and sets his shoulders back in feigned confidence, arms naturally folding across his chest to maintain the position with ease. Coupled with the mildly disgruntled frown on his muzzle, it results in a stern air of arrogance and disapproval that completes when he raises his chin slightly, quirking the edge of his lips into a satisfied smirk.
"I consent," he states and looks back to the elder, the determined intensity in his crimson irises now emanating from his entire form. "What is our first move?"
Shadow blinks away the memory as he tries to focus on the scrolling text on the television, the classical music playing with the credits a gentle accompaniment to his sudden return to the present. The flatscreen is the only light source in the room, the ambient light coming from the city outside casting shadows across the darkened room that make regaining said focus more difficult.
He vaguely remembers Amy choosing a moviez which has evidently finished, but he doesn't recall a moment of it. Soft snores attract his attention, and he rotates his head on the backrest of the sofa to regard the fuschia hedgehog, a small smirk forming on his lips.
She looks comfortable; cheek is pressed to the backrest and eyes gently closed, her legs splayed haphazardly across Shadow's lap. She's curled slightly into the contours of the chair, socked feet resting beyond him on cushions while her knees press gently against into his lower abdomen.
The consideration of carefully manoeuvring her from his lap and carrying her to bed is short lived, mostly because he's comfortable but also because he's content to watch her sleep. If he frees himself, he'll only end up working again, and since her arrival in his life he's found there's much more enjoyable things than walking Towers' lines.
Not signing the Contract of Care could be seen as a deviation from what was expected of them, but at the same time their mutual distrust of the Commander in Chief and the clause Amy found made the decision for them.
They weren't about to risk whatever this was they'd just found in one another on the off chance a lawyer fucked up. It'd taken Shadow a few hours and some guidance from Amy to carefully word their refusal email, citing the discrepancy as an error rather than an attack as Shadow had originally intended.
She'd convinced him not to poke the bear, so to speak, and he supposes it's the best play. It retains their freedoms as long as possible, so they can plan exit strategies.
A brief internal debate concluding, stretches for the remote on the coffee table before him and snags it with his fingertips without waking her. One click sees the room plunged into near-darkness before he places the device soundlessly on the arm of the sofa and settles back once more, gaze on her peaceful expression as her chest rose and fell in a slow rhythm.
A frown marrs the hedgehog's muzzle as his mind begins to work over all the information they've collected to date, and the conclusion is easy to come: Towers has some agenda regarding Amy and the urchin she carries, one he's not opposed to playing dirty to realise, so long as it doesn't jeopardize his standing in GUN.
Having been the target of Towers' disdain for many years, this was typical behaviour, as far as Shadow is concerned: using legal bureaucracy to tangle his targets in a complex web of legal bullshit was his calling card. The hybrid has been in dozens of disciplinary meetings for relatively minor contract infractions over the years and has no doubt they're all still on his record, ready to get him arrested at a moment's notice.
What troubles him is the shift of focus from him to Amy demonstrated by the contract Towers offered her. While the female herself may be a fiery personality, GUN could overwhelm her easily, therefore it's likely the Commander is more concerned by her contacts than Amy herself.
To prevent such an outcome she'd need to be taken into custody, incarcerated and unable to make contact with any of her former allies to raise a shitstorm in response to the treatment she or Shadoe were subjected to. That puts her at the greatest risk, and makes having an emergency exit for the female the ebony's top priority, one he begins to mull over as his mate sleeps soundly beside him.
The persecution of his Rose simply because she chose him as a mate isn't something Shadow will tolerate. And if Abraham wants a war?
Well, let him come. They'll be prepared.