(((there are several distinctive signs of an honest-to-God passionate writer, someone who is devoted to the written word. A writer will usually carry with them a notebook of sorts wherever they go to jot down ideas and pieces of phrases. A good writer will be inspired by anything and everything. A good writer will use pieces of their everyday life in their work, and use in their characters pieces of themselves. And, every devoted writer should have on their dominant hand, on the inner part of the middle finger, a writer's callous from holding a pencil or pen for many along, grueling hour.
Sonic: unfortunately, the writer's of today have carpal-tunnel syndrome and cataracts from staring into crappy monitor screens.
A: hey, shut up! I earned my writer's callous at age eight! ...and my monitors are NOT crappy... -hugs one of her Cinemascreens-
Knux: a good writer should have toast and green tea for breakfast every morning, tomato soup for lunch...
A: are you mocking me?
K: ...yes.
Shadow: and every good writer should have at least SOME decency and not kill off their characters only to bring them back as multi-dimensional entities. AND WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO MY BODY?
A: number A, that was an interestingly profound idea that only moi could think up, and letter 2, you'll just have to find out, won't you? -evil smirk-
Sh: grr.
Sn: just post the damn name profile and get on with the damn chapter... you made me look like a frightened little girl. T.T
A: I was only going with what you gave me, Sonic dear.
Sn: -walks away muttering.-
The name of Sonic creates a quick, analytical, and clever mind; you are creative, versatile, original, and independent. You have large ambitions, and it is difficult for you to be tolerant and understanding of those who desire less in life or who are more slow and methodical by nature. Patience is not your forte. You do, however, have leadership ability and would never be happy in a subservient position. You are ambitious and aggressive by nature. You would be happiest in positions where you are free to express individually and creatively and where opportunities are not restricted; you desire freedom, and do not tolerate being possessed by others. You appreciate change and travel, and the opportunity to meet and mix with others, and to influence them with your creative ideas.
Sn: HEY! THAT'S ME ALL OVER!
K: they forgot to add that you whine.
Sn: -whining- I do not!
()( Manic: DUUUUDE! She's like, letting me say something for once, y'know? Oh, yah, like, she owns not the righteously bodacious idea behind Sonic (wassup, bro?) and the other dudes. Kay? Awright, let's party ooonn!-plays air-guitar-()(
Chapter 17- Confusion
"This is just plain gross." Sonic complained, fumigating the entire inside of the transport with aerosol spray. "Don't we have some formaldehyde we can dunk him in...maybe embalming fluid?"
Sally snatched the can from his hand, coughing slightly. "You're an idiot. He doesn't even smell yet. This stuff is going to give us all lung cancer..."
He stuck his tongue out at her back as she walked away, looking back to the corpse strapped to the small cot in front of him. They had taped his eyes shut to prevent them from drying out...eww... and Sally had injected him in several places with an anti-rigormortis agent to keep him from stiffening. (AN-...-insane giggling- ahem. Mind out of the gutter, people.)
"But...but...why?" Sonic pondered aloud.
"Because he is, in himself as of this moment, a veritable miracle. I could FINALLY win that Nobel Prize I've been applying for since I was four!" Tails announced as he entered the room, quite pleased with himself.
"Yeah, sure, you like playing with dead things because you're some kind of child-prodigy-scientist-inventor-whoosit." Sonic grumbled under his breath.
"Oh, lighten up! We may even be able to revive him!" Tails said, stepping to the side of the cot. "My theory is that since his body was created to be invincible- dare I say indestructible- it refuses to die. I believe his soul has left his body, yet it lives on without him. His body remains in this coma-like state. Now, if I may..." he removed his gloves, replacing them with sanitary rubber ones, feeling at the corpse's midsection. "Ah! This is interesting! His digestive system is still working as well! Now, how this would work without blood flow is beyond me..." Sonic cringed as the child genius opened the cadaver's mouth to examine the inside. Both leapt back with frightened exclamations of surprise when the body emitted a groan.
"Soniiiic..." He trembled, his face hidden in the hedgehog's side.
"Oh, sure, 'now' you're all scared. Where's your little scientific explanation for THAT?"
"Well, since he's...still...breathing, I guess it wouldn't be hard for some of that air to travel through the larynx and result in...but that just sounded FREAKY!"
"Let's get outa here..."
"Yeah."
--.o:o.--
"You? That doesn't look like you..." Tarsa said, peering at the two figures that were making their way back towards the mansion.
"Wait...I swear...it looked like me a second ago..." Shadow shook his head in confusion. "We ought to check it out anyway. If we go along the bank, we could probably go unnoticed."
"Right. But...what if Itshell followed us here, what if..." she took his hand with both of hers in rising fear. "What if it's a trap?"
He looked to her, bearing as comforting a smile as his serious features would allow. "Don't worry, I'm here. I won't let her hurt you."
(AN- I know what you're thinking, and NO. Knuckles would have a fit. It's like an older-brotherly kind of thing. I think I like Shadow like that, don't you?)
Itshell tensed. Her senses detected the two, but she refrained from turning around. No, her time would come. Best not to alarm Karpa quite yet. If she played her cards right, she might even be able to pit her against the two. Damn, how had Tarsa been able to evade her? Things were not going as planned...
"Karpa, darling, you go on ahead. I'm going to pick some oranges for the fruit bowl." She said sweetly.
Karpa, the slightest bit suspicious, obliged and left the dark girl to her own devices. As soon as the heiress was out of sight, Itshell clenched her fists, eyes glowing darkly.
--
The two had made their way just above her, hiding in the dune grass above the sharp drop to the beach below. Shadow strove to get a better view of the lone figure on the beach. Tarsa remained behind him, hidden from view.
"I don't believe it...things just keep getting stranger and stranger..." Shadow frowned, trying to make sense of the sight below him.
Sonic sat in the sand, shoes by his side, tossing pebbles and seashells into the surf aimlessly, yawning with boredom. He checked his watch, then flopped onto his back, gazing at the cloudless sky. (AN- it was back to late morning again, neh.)
Tarsa, recognizing Knuckles' friend, stood and hailed to him.
"Hey! Son-"
"Get down!" Shadow hissed, yanking her back into the grass. "That's not Sonic."
"Sure he is! Who else would he be?"
"That's Itshell!"
"Psh! You're so paranoid! Hey Sonic! How'd you get here?" she stood again, sliding down the sandy bank with ease. Shadow cursed, following her.
"Oh, hey Tarse. I dunnno... one minute I was in a forest and the next...well, I was in the drink! I hope my shoes dry okay..." He looked sadly to his most prized possessions.
"Have you seen Knux?" she asked, plopping down next to him. Shadow tensed as he stood behind the two.
"Yeah, come to think of it...he was in a pretty bad way last time I saw 'im. Aw, but he's a tough guy, I'm sure he's alright."
She hugged him with glee. "You don't know how great it is to see a familiar face! I thought I'd never see any of you guys again!"
"Tarsa!" Shadow shouted in warning.
"What?"
She hadn't noticed that the one she had her arms around had shifted shapes until she looked back to him ...no longer the amiable hedgehog, but her own dark nemesis.
She grinned deviously. Before she could get hold of the girl, Shadow had grabbed her, pulling her to his side.
"She's not yours, Itshell."
"Oh? Is she yours now?" she asked, standing.
"She belongs to herself. You will return her to her own body or suffer the consequences."
"Oh my. What is it you're going to do to me, then?" she asked him challengingly.
He growled at her mockery, cracking his knuckles and taking stance.
"Shadow...wait..." Tarsa said from her refuge behind the hedgehog.
"Don't worry about me. She's already killed me, what more can she do?" he shoved her to the sand, lunging at the demoness in a homing attack.
To his shocked surprise, he found himself behind her, as if he had gone right through her. He snarled, doubling back, throwing a punch through her head... Through, you see, because his hand seemed insubstantial when it touched her, passing through her like a projection. He looked at his hand in horror, then back at the black echidna who had turned to face him, grinning ominously.
"You're right about one thing... You 'are' dead...there really is nothing more I can do to you...nor you to me." She cackled uproariously. "Ironic, isn't it? You, the most powerful being of all! Powerless against a woman." She turned her back on him once more.
"But you, my dear, are very much alive. Unfortunately, I'm going to have to put you where you can cause no more trouble..." she stepped toward the trembling Tarsa.
"No! You stay away from me! I'm warning you..."
Itshell laughed. "Warning me? Against what? The wrath of a stock girl? The frail thrashing of a weak little child? Nothing you did could save you from him. Nothing you can do will save you from me. You might as well learn to like me..." She stepped closer still.
With a loud cry, the cowering girl leapt from the sand, spinning in a roundhouse kick, her battered sneaker walloping Itshell in the side of the head. The force sent her staggering. Tarsa landed gracefully in a crouch.
"It's amazing what they teach in self-defense class..." She said calmly, smirking.
"Yes, but that's not all you took..." Itshell said, a hand to the purpling bruise on her cheek.
Tarsa stood, snapping into stance, beckoning her with a hand.
She lunged, Tarsa ducked, swiping a foot beneath her opponent's, causing her to lose her balance and fall heavily in the sand.
"It might be easier if you didn't try to fight me in a dress..." Tarsa advised.
She found herself staggering backward, the blow to the face so quick she only felt the full force of it after she hit the ground as well. Tears welled in her eyes involuntarily from the assault on her nose.
"We can play rough if you want, darling. I'm all for painful pleasure..." the dark one smirked, now wearing a black gi of sorts, though of her own devising. (AN- still trying to draw it. Please don't assume it looks corny, please! It don't!)
--.o:o.--
"What?" Rouge, who had been in the cockpit the whole time and hadn't heard the news as of yet, stared at Sally with disbelief.
"N-...no...comeon, you're joshin' me, right?"
"No, I'm sorry..."
"But he CAN'T die! He's Shadow! Cut the crap!"
"If you don't believe me, go see for yourself."
She remained silent. "I don't know if I want to..."
"He's right back there. Sure, it may LOOK like he's alive, but we're not sure why he's still breathing. His heart's stopped."
Rouge just looked at her in confusion. She strode quickly to the back room, thrusting open the curtains.
"...Sh...Shadow..?"
She stooped next to the cot, taking his limp hand in her own.
"Shadow, wake up, it's Rouge..."
He didn't stir. She felt his neck for a pulse, drawing back from the feeling of his cool flesh.
"No...he can't die...he can't just DIE! I didn't get to tell him-" she stopped herself, drawing a hand to her quivering lips. Two fat tears spilled from her large eyes. She laid her head on his chest, sobbing.
"I'll...just let you have a moment with him..." Sally left, feeling troubled.
--.o:o.--
Karpa hadn't gone back to the mansion as she had been "ordered". Instead, she had doubled back along the ridge of the sand bank, and the scene now before her made her gasp.
"Shadow..." She whispered to herself. "And Tarsa? What are they... how did they get here?" she watched on as the fight ensued.
"I want my body back, you bitch!" Tarsa, charged at her again, swinging and missing, only to receive a painful knee in the gut.
"Tarsa, keep your guard up!" Shadow warned. "Don't let her hit you! try to block better!"
"Oh, shaddap! I didn't waste all that money on lessons for some DEAD guy to critique me!"
"Dead?" Karpa said aloud. She stood. "Just what in God's name is going on here?" she shouted, causing all three on the beach to freeze.
((WHAT HAPPENS NEXT? What will Itshell do? What was it Rouge wanted to say? How much more of this crappy fight scene will you have to endure? We shall see...))
Sn: this whole production is going right down the toilet! Clockwise, even!
K: Where'd I go?
Sh: they're...doing...things...to my body...-coughs on aerosol-
Vector: I believe this wasn't one of your better chapters. You need to start thinking more about what exactly you're making us do.
Sn: hell, I wanted that to be ME on the beach, meh. I'm done with living corpses and demon-things. Gimme a gawdamn vacation!
A: T.T well, hopefully you guys didn't hate this chapter as much as they did. Review anyway. Chao.