PART TWO

FOUR MONTHS LATER

Nine miles outside Holoska, even though he was inside foot thick packed snow, Sonic's body prickled from the cold. His bare socks were covered in small ice crystals, and he brushed them off with his hands. He exhaled through his teeth as one snagged on the fabric, letting a strand poke out. Out of all the places he'd had to go to get away from the mind-controlled masses, this was one of his least favorites. Hedgehogs were never meant to live in cold climates, and without good clothing or hot food, it was almost unbearable. Other places were too hot (like the literal inside of a volcano the Individuals camped out in for a while), or too wet (like the rainforest), or too painfully dry (like deserts). He longed for home, his real home.

But it sure beat the alternative.

Sonic sat at his "bed," a wooden crate with bunches of folded fabric on top of it. The only stuff that made it up here was what he had moved himself during the last evacuation three weeks ago. It took two hard trips to get even this much up here, and it was still uncomfortable- whatever he didn't use for warmth stayed on here for him to sleep on, leading to back pain and annoying aches during the day. Beggars couldn't be choosers, and he had more than most - he gave a lot of his bedding to people too weak to carry things on their own, especially with the shortage of food. It seemed like every time they moved, less things were considered necessary for survival.

He never forgot to take one thing with him though: his journal. Or, rather, Shadow's journal.

At this point, it was worn on its binding. The covers bore some scuffs from being dropped a couple of times. The pages slightly curled from occasional missteps with moisture and dirt. The spiral design, once a brilliant red, now settled into a dull and dusty color. Still, though, it was his. Only he wrote in it, and Shadow often declined when asked if he wanted to read it, but Sonic thought of it as a shared possession since most of what he wrote in it was Shadow's idea. He had remarked early on in the outbreak that if the world recovered from this, having a record of their world from someone conscious would be invaluable. Then, hopefully, nobody would repeat their mistakes. The most interesting things in history, he said, were never the battles or the opulence of the ruling classes, but the everyday lives of those affected by the world around them. Sonic had replied he didn't know what "opulence" meant, to which Shadow rolled his eyes and then helped him look it up in the dictionary. He couldn't help but laugh a little at the memory. Shadow may be a snide ass sometimes, but he was still the best boyfriend.

Pulling out his pen and wishing it would work well this time, he scribbled slightly on the corner of the page. Technically, he was supposed to ration things like ink and pens since everything like that had to be brought in from the outside, but he didn't pay too close of attention to that. After all, the people controlled by the nanites didn't need to write anymore - hell, they didn't even need to talk anymore. When everybody thinks the same thoughts and knows everything about everyone else, what need was there to communicate anymore? They could simply - he didn't know, beam stuff to each other? Which meant they wouldn't notice pens went missing until long after the Scout had gone, so taking a few wouldn't arouse suspicion.

Not to mention, when the most successful Scout is your boyfriend, you got some side perks.

Deep blue ink eventually came out, giving color to the indents in Sonic's page, and he grinned. Good, he thought, I can write today. Maybe I'll write up yesterday's entry at some point too. He started to scribble on the pages, his handwriting a barely-legible mess. Day 112. Finally getting used to the freezing Holoska weather, which probably means we'll be forced to move again soon, knowing our luck. Shadow's been gone for two weeks, but I haven't seen him yet. He's supposed to help me get ready for the Scout exam. Still can hardly believe I got the okay to do it, but I guess less of them are coming back and they need people to bring back rations. Medic is hopefully giving me the okay to train for it today.

The ink stopped dry, and he paused to shake his pen. He still felt bitter about how long it had taken him to recover. As it turns out, you don't take off a cast for a major broken bone at only four weeks - it's at least twelve. And falling directly on it back at the GUN base when it was completely exposed way too early could have completely messed with the healing process. If he had been really unlucky, it could have never healed right and he would have run with a limp for the rest of his life. Thankfully, he had been lucky - it rebroke, but they took care of it quickly, and now, months later, he was fully healed and had his muscle strength mostly back. He kept thinking about what it would be like if - no, when, it had to be when - he could run outside again. The only times he'd moved, really moved, are when the entire group of Individuals had to flee en masse. It was not a time of joy for anybody; usually, it meant the infected had found their last hideout, likely, claiming several of their ranks in the process. It was hard to focus on running when you were carrying at least two other people and dodging flying liquid, shot at you from left and right. Last time, they had lost a third of their Individuals. The time before, it was half. And you couldn't stop or mourn losses until you were at wherever you migrated to, likely hundreds of miles away. Too much to think about to have any kind of joy in it.

Being a Scout, though… it was a boring job, he knew. Scouts picked up food, got supplies, looked for potential spots to move to if and when the Individuals had been found again. Truth be told, even though being subservient sat about as well with him as getting sandpaper slowly dragged across his skin, he had been prepared to take the test once he was moving at supersonic speeds again. It may be mind numbing tasks, but it was the only way you were allowed to leave the shelter. Be outside. Move. And after literal months of being held back by chairs, crutches, and walls, the prospect was intoxicating. He'd go through almost anything to have that chance again. Being a Scout was really dangerous, but at least you got to be in charge of yourself for once - as long as you did your task and got back without drawing attention before too long, you could go anywhere and do anything you wanted.

Real freedom. He missed that.

The pen spurted blue ink on his glove, and Sonic flinched. No way he could get a new one any time soon, since those were harder to make and come by. He half thought he'd ask Shadow today to grab him some the next time he was out, but then paused. No, he thought. He'd get his own gloves. The thought brought a smile to his face.

Tails says that the nanites have changed their own structure so many times the original schematics aren't helping anymore. The last batch of samples Shadow brought back were completely different from the first ones they saw. Tails says it's interesting how these machines learned how to mutate, but it freaks me out. It's like a real virus now, only it's made of robots. And I thought I hated colds.

A pounding came on the wooden door. Sonic put his pen down. "Yeah, yeah, yeah, I'm coming. Medic wants to see me, right? Just give me a sec."

He pulled off his glove with his teeth and absentmindedly scratched the scar on his good leg. The burn from the gun was just one scar among many, but Sonic liked to think it stood out. The texture beneath his fingers was bumpy and stretched compared to the skin around it. Nobody could really see it anymore, but he liked knowing it was there - despite how he got it, it still reminded him of Shadow, and that helped him a lot.

The pounding became more consistent, and he groaned while hoisting his leg off the "bed." "Okay, I get it. I'm moving."

He sighed. Time to go from Hell to Purgatory, in the hopes of one day reaching Heaven.

"Reflexes…good. Vitals…good. Muscle mass… excellent. If you didn't tell me, I probably would never know your leg was broken four months ago."

Sonic grinned, leaning forward on the set of boxes that served as the medic's chair. "Aw, thanks doc," he said, showing his teeth in a wide smile. "I've been good about doing those exercises you told me about."

"And it shows. The speed of your running broke our only treadmill…again."

Sonic laughed sheepishly. "Yeah, well, that's kind of the only option I've got right now, right?" He exhaled through pursed lips. "I mean, for safety or whatever? But I think if I start training now, I can probably join the Scouts in a month or so, and you won't have to worry about that anymore."

The medic looked at him gravely, then walked to close the door. "Yes, well… that's why I asked you here early." His voice was lower now - not quite whispering, but carrying heavy significance. "I've talked to the others here, and we want you to do a Scout mission now. Time is of the essence."

Sonic blinked in surprise. Normally, becoming a Scout meant that you needed to take tests, learn strict protocols, and go through a rigorous evaluation to determine if they could trust you. Trust you to study. Trust you to follow orders. Trust you to work alone, potentially for weeks, in order to complete what felt like tedious errands, and then immediately do it again and again. Something itched in the back of his mind that he couldn't ignore. Something he couldn't help but ask.

"Doc - why are you sending me out there now? I mean, not that I'm complaining or anything, but you guys are pretty strict about the whole going-though-5000-years-of-training thing, and I haven't exactly been a model student so far. What's going on?"

The medic tried not to change his expression, but there was a small twitch of the mouth, a slightly deepening frown, that made its way to the surface. "Sonic," he said, his voice a near monotone, "I'm sure you've noticed by now that Shadow isn't here."

"Well, yeah." Sonic rubbed his neck a little - he tried to pretend that every day Shadow was gone, he wasn't thinking about the worst case scenarios. "But he's come back late from missions before, and it's always 'cause he's being careful. You gotta do what keeps them off your trail, right?"

The medic nodded, but didn't say anything.

"So what's that got to do with me?"

Putting away Sonic's chart - a ragged piece of paper, covered in nearly illegible scribbles - the medic pulled out a file from the lowest cabinet shelf. It had TOP SECRET written across it in large, marker lettering. "Does Shadow talk to you about his missions?"

"No," he said, stepping off the crates. "He's a real stickler for the rules - nobody but you knows what he does." And nobody can track you down if they get taken by those…things, he finished in his head, as he always did when he recited the rule. It was honestly the worst part of their separation; Shadow never told him where he was going, or what he was going to do, or sometimes even for how long he'd be gone. When Sonic closed his eyes at night, all the terrible things that could have happened to his boyfriend would rush into his mind's eye. Drowning under broken ice. Getting trapped without food in a ditch. Conversion into one of… one of them. It kept Sonic awake most every night Shadow was gone, his eyes red and with heavy bags during some of the longer missions by the end. It was miserable - Sonic was no stranger to nightmares, but worrying so intensely about another person… another specific person… was worse.

Then Shadow would come back, and they'd spend a day or two together. Those days were as happy as any of them could be anymore - Sonic would tell Shadow about rehab for his leg and the happenings around the base, and Shadow would give him small trinkets he snuck in from the outside, like pencils and gemstones. Then they'd attend to other matters, kinds that weren't as well settled alone… Vector used to joke about how the two would lock themselves away, "swapping stories and swapping spit." It was funny, until he was taken from them too, the most recent in a string of fading friends.

The medic didn't seem to notice the grimace that went across Sonic's face at the memory. "Normally, that would be the case here as well. But now you need to know what Shadow's was assigned to do on the outside." He flipped the pages from the folder open, and drawn pictures of GUN headquarters scattered across the table. The papers were tattered, and in some places the ink ran like water had been spilled on the page. With a chill, Sonic realized these were pictures of the labs - the same kind Shadow, Scourge, and he had been held in four months before, down to the containment machines and strange monitors. "Shadow was to gather medical supplies - antibiotics, untainted vaccines, bandages, the works. Originally, he was simply meant to gather what he could carry and bring it straight back here. No harm, no foul."

"And he hasn't come back yet." Sonic's eyes stayed glued to the drawings. "Was he supposed to?"

"Shadow sent word through another Scout he encountered. He tried going into this facility. Do you recognize it?"

He could practically see his doppleganger in the scrawled images, screaming, writhing, then falling eerily calm. The image was etched into his memory, carved like a chisel into stone. When he wasn't thinking about what kind of trouble Shadow could be in, he was reliving that moment, wondering what, if anything, he could have done. "Yeah, kind of."

"Well, he didn't get any supplies from there. Too much security, too many numbers. But Shadow did send these drawings back, saying that they're conducting some kind of experiments in that facility. His notes are maddeningly sparse, and I'm sure he wanted to avoid this getting in the wrong hands, but I'm sure you realize how troubling this image is to us."

The medic slid the papers across, and Sonic felt his stomach squirm. There was a room Sonic hadn't seen before. A large metal tube stood in the center of the drawing, and it seemed to hold a person inside. Limbs had patches of something strange covering pieces of skin and hair - something reflective, jarring against the rest of its body. But the most chilling part of the image was the figure's eye - it had the same notches and lens as a camera, its center a pinpoint, and looking directly at the viewer. It looked eerily like the eyes on Eggman's robots, devoid of anything intelligent or caring. "This…this is-"

"You, Sonic, are the closest person to Shadow. You know him better than anyone. And the same can sadly be said for you and Doctor Eggman as well. We are willing to temporarily overlook some… lack of training… in order to ensure their safe return."

Sonic looked up from the drawings, seeing the medic's stern face. "What are you saying?"

"Normally, when someone doesn't come back from a trip to the outside, we assume the worst. They're taken, it's only a matter of time before our cover is blown, and we need to move again." The medic put all but the final image back in the file and slid it back into the cabinet. With a click, the door closed, the outside once more looking unassuming to anyone else. "But as you are aware, Shadow is unique. He's skilled. He's trained. And most importantly, he's guarding a secret - one that could be very important."

"What those things are?"

The medic nodded. "And Doctor Eggman could very well know why this monstrosity of his is evolving the way it is. Locating him would be useful as well."

Sonic's ear twitched. "Eggman's alive? I thought he got taken-"

"-during the last evacuation? No, he's still sentient, and still breathing. Or at least, we have good reason to believe so. A Scout saw a man matching his description near Adabat. Why he would willingly choose to be alone when the world is like it is would be anybody's guess. I think he's got delusions of superiority over the rest of us, myself. But it is imperative you bring him back here, alive if possible, so we can get to the bottom of this."

Sonic looked at the image again, tracing the figure in the center. Shadow drew this… the detail was impeccable, and the proportions were perfect. The detail on the individual pieces looked like it had been added later, and he knew Shadow didn't like to dwell on anything for longer than he needed to, so he knew this was accurate and important. "Do you think…" he started, then stopped, shaking his head before he caught his words again. "Do you know if Shadow's okay?"

The medic's face betrayed little emotion, but some worry seeped through. "I'm afraid that I don't."

Sonic crumpled the paper in his hand, frustrated. "I'll do it," he said, "but I'm getting Shadow first. Egghead can deal with his own mess for a while." And I don't want Shadow to be out there, dealing with this alone.

"You realize that we're already bending the rules enough for you to even be out there, right?"

"And I'm going to do what you say. Get Shadow, get Eggs-for-brains, and bring them both back here so we can stop wave two of this super weird apocalypse we're in. But you understand why I want to get Shadow first, and it'll be easier to bring Eggman in with him by my side."

The medic paused. "Yes," he said, opening the door again, "I suppose that makes sense."

"Then I'll be on my way. Just let me know where to go."

The medic crossed his arms. "Shadow was last contacted in north Empire City, not far from there. He would have been making his way back here, but he's an expert in evasive maneuvers and deception. Do you think you can track him down?"

Sonic closed his eyes. He pictured Shadow there, alone, calculating the ever narrowing window of opportunity to escape. It's true, Shadow was unusually resourceful, but when backed into a corner he would do what any good Scout would do… the one true avoidance of conversion by the other. A way to permanently avoid having your knowledge be used against your fellow Individuals. The gun, the blade, the rope….

Every thought was horrible. Sonic could never let that happen.

"We'll be back home in no time." And in a flurry of movement, he was gone.

[[AN: Of course, just when I'm about to actually get into the post-apocalyptic part of this story, all of these Sonic Forces spoilers come out. Theories spring up everywhere. Dystopia stories flood the pages. And even though I've been working on this a while and have a few more chapters all but ready, I'm not sure if updating right now will actually have anybody read it because there's so damn many of the same kind of story right now. Because of this, I'm going to start a different story for the time being and come back to this one when the Forces hype dies down. I never do story-less updates, so I put this up so y'all know I'm still alive, but unless you all really want me to update right now, I'm probably going to put this on hiatus for a couple months. Thanks for reading, everyone.]]