Worthless.
The jackal snapped his eyes open as his body ached and head throbbed. Instead of humid jungle and stone rubble, plush fabric surrounded him. As he debated on trying to move, pieces of the night prior drifted together.
Still alive, somehow, Infinite thought as he urged himself to curl further into himself. His snout protested and his tail wouldn't move... he reached for it and moved his hands along the tail for any fractures. He hissed as his hands reached the throbbing section— stepped on during the brawl, he wagered— but past the bruising, nothing concerning.
Why let me live? If I'm as worthless as you say... and after what I've done...
Infinite relinquished the tail and settled down. Nothing broken... and he didn't have to stay alert and keep moving, at least. The jackal closed his eyes with a sigh.
Panting echoed off the metal walls as the jackal staggered along the glass containers. His body quaked— from pain? Rage? Grief?— and his skull burned.
Alone again, because you're not strong enough. You couldn't even land a hit on their murderer.
A wheeze as the stumbling jackal noted the reflection in the polished glass. The scar burned as a cacophony of laughter echoed around him.
"You'd be better off without that eye, runt!"
"Let's help him out, then!"
"Don't show your pathetic face around me ever again."
It's always this face, the jackal growled at the mismatched eyes. This face that can't make up what color eyes it wants, this face with a permanent reminder— they see it and label you weak.
And you believe them, don't you?
He sucked a shaky breath as he crumpled to the floor.
Are you weak?
The jackal quaked as he failed to control his breathing. I don't want to be weak.
He picked himself off the floor and trudged past the empty glass tubes, approaching cases of floating, red objects— some glowed, while some crumbled like they were made of sand. As he passed them, none of them called out to him, not like the jewel had—Not with a voice, but a sensation; a cold, strangeness in his abdomen, a change in the air that called him, not by a name he no longer had, or a meager descriptor of his form, but by the fibers, hairs, bones, blood and sinew that comprised him— and only him.
I've shown you that which you have buried away— that desire that has shaped you into what you are...
He fixated on the glowing jewel to his right— triangular and red, unlike the rounder, more pink stones behind him. The air prickled around it as if its edges extended beyond what he could see. His fur stood on end and his throat constricted as if cold hands were strangling him.
I know why you need to be strong...
He muscled past the rising of his hackles and the vice around his chest— past the searing sensation in his fingers and palm as he reached for the shimmering, swirling prism in front of him.
As soon as he grasped it— the burning and tearing ripped up his arm and spread— the crackling fuse shredded his nerves and ground his bones to dust.
Then— a rush, like his own blood flowing back through him, tinged with something alien and powerful. His arm trembled— not from weakness, from power. He considered the gem, before it pulled itself towards his chest—
Grumbling snapped Infinite back to the present. The cold vanished and the pain lessened as the noise grated on his ears. His bruised snout protested as he tried to bury his head away from the noise.
"Shut up," he growled in response.
"What the—"
Infinite's hackles rose. He forced his heavy head to look over his shoulder, to will his muscles for quick movements—
The black rodent started back at him with a swollen left eye and scratches along the right side of his face. A ghost smirked at the battered face, but the jackal could not.
"What are you doing here?" the disoriented hedgehog asked.
"I live here, jerk," he huffed in response as he turned back to the fabric. His fur refused to flatten and his ears remained on alert— Groans turning into growls, a sharp inhale to launch forward—
Why am I lying here if I know he's going to attack me?
The disoriented breathing slowed before a pained hiss— no, if the same migraine plagued the hedgehog, he wouldn't attack him.
"Did you bite me?"
Infinite's brow furrowed as he waded through the foggy memories. "Do you think I have rabies?" he muttered. Fleas, ticks, rabies— all canines carry them, right?
"No, just— look at my arm."
He rolled back over and slipped off the couch. He narrowed his eyes at the puffed up section of the black arm, the dark skin marked with small indents in the telltale curve.
Aim for the arms, legs, neck— that's where the arteries are. Even if you don't get deep enough, if you can stall them after bleeding, infection will set in.
The skin around the bites took on a puffy red tinge, and a faint malodor rose from the area. But if he's as resilient and durable as those files on him reported, he shouldn't be getting infected.
"You'll probably want antibiotics, if Metal has any."
The black rodent winced as he pulled the limb close to his chest. "Metal?" he echoed.
"This is his house," Infinite answered as he got to his feet. Where is that devious Badnik— pitting the both of them against each other— who knows what would happen if their fighting had gotten out of hand...
The jackal hobbled into the kitchen and opened up the cabinets— supplies need to be kept together— but no antibiotics. Well, you didn't stock this house, he chided himself, Metal did. If Metal was putting medicine away in the house, where would he put it?
And why are you trying to help him, of all people?
Infinite walked along the wall towards the bathroom— purple smudges rested on the bridge of his snout, which seemed a little offset, or at least swollen— and he opened the medicine cabinet...
Well, maybe helping him wouldn't feel so amiss, he thought as he picked up the autoinjector. The jackal began to open the tube as footsteps approached the bathroom, accompanied by grumbles and groans.
"Why use your teeth when you have—"
A sharp curse bounced off the walls as the needle plunged into the hedgehog's upper arm. At least he kept still— good lab rat. He swore and growled as he covered the injection site with his left hand.
"That's the only kind he has?" he hissed.
Infinite examined the container and hummed, "You should be grateful; it's specific to canine bites." He huffed, "Who knows how many shots you'd need if it was just a catch-all."
Red eyes narrowed, "A catch-all would have been enough for me."
His nose twitched, "Right... how could I forget." The jackal stepped out of the bathroom and towards the kitchen as his chest burned. "But maybe you're not as indestructible as you think you are, if some run-of-the-mill dog can pummel you like that."
Sluggish steps, a small hiss of pain, but no retort. Infinite's swollen tail begged for him to stop moving it back and forth. He retrieved an ice pack from the freezer and wrapped it around the throbbing section.
"Is Metal here?" asked the trailing rodent.
"He's either hiding in the basement, or he's not here at all," the jackal guessed as he noted the dull sheen of his black fur. Taking a shower would give him distance from the potential threat, and time to glance over those files again to get an edge— perhaps the rodent might even leave. He replaced the ice pack and wandered upstairs, grabbing a towel from the linen closet before ducking into the bathroom.
You two should clean up while you can— a job like this, showers are few and far in between.
The jackal sprayed the memory and excess water around the shower walls.
Don't act as though you've never seen ghosts before, a shadowed voice chided. Or that this is the first time you've seen these particular ghosts.
He glowered as the water rolled over his fur. His sternum smoldered but a turn towards the cold deluge extinguished the sensation. He turned off the shower before he caught a cold.
Once his fur was dry, he slinked back into his room and opened the binder— a thick binder with a red "SEALED" sticker over the front logo, stolen from GUN. Inside were documents, photos, and transcripts of recordings— Photographs of... something that looked like the thing downstairs, staring off in a daydream, like a child. An adoption form for a "Kadmon Ithax Robotnik" that was never approved. Laboratories, tubes, typed up test results and reports. A list of casualties and another series of illegible scrawls. Discussions about the long-term effects of psychoactive substances, recommended dosages for the purposes of "cognitive suppression and reformation..."
Neat typed notes followed: "Retrograde amnesia linked to prolonged stasis and chemical alteration. Procedural memory normal, but faces difficulty with short-term memory."
The jackal shut the binder and stashed it before sucking in a deep breath.
No such luck of him leaving, Infinite noted as he descended the stairs with warm, clean fur— though the rodent had managed to find Metal, and had forced him to make some eggs. The cobalt shape retrieved some fruit from a grocery bag as the disheveled hedgehog slumped on the counter, an ice pack covering his blackened eye.
"You didn't break any bones, at least," Metal buzzed as he unloaded the rest of the haul.
The jackal remained focused on the black rodent as he swiped an orange. The uncovered, maroon eye followed him, just as wary.
"I'm not asking you to give each other high-fives, but I do need you to be civil to each other. You're going to be my employees, after all."
A puff from the rodent, "How do you expect people to buy coffee from us, when copies of us have been terrorizing them for half a year?"
"Well, obviously I'm not going to be selling them coffee," the Badnik hummed. "You are. And there's ways to distance yourself from those copies."
Infinite smirked as he began to peel the fruit with his claws, yes, we could use your "real" name, for one. You're not as intimidating when you're called Kadmon Ithax Robotnik.
"You should practice smiling," Metal noted.
"Out of the question."
"How will you ever earn any tips with an attitude like that," Infinite chided, Kadmon.
The hedgehog growled.
Metal straightened up— "I have to go look over the space before I finalize the purchase. Try not to break anything. Or each other."
Kadmon huffed, "Too hungover to try," as he returned to his breakfast. Metal exited the scene.
A bitter, tense minute limped past as the two sat in silence; one at the dining room table, skinning an orange, the other eating his eggs at the kitchen island. Infinite had pieced together some of the night before— against his better judgment, he showed up to Metal's invitation, holding back bile as he sat across from the startled hedgehog. Questions, accusations and name calling taken with passive-aggressive calm, up until they'd both downed a strange shot "on the house"— no doubt Metal lighting the fuse. More drinks, finger-pointing, yelling, blaming—
"So, this coffee scheme... it's Metal's, right? Not Eggman's."
Infinite considered the last of the orange peel, "Haven't heard anything about him since I woke up— But he's not one for subtlety, is he?"
A cough, "As subtle as a firework." The rodent's fork clinked against the plate. "So what's in it for you?"
The jackal's scarred eye twitched as it fell onto the dark figure. "I could ask the same," he growled.
The dark shape paused— hackles rose and blood simmered.
"It seems... demeaning for you."
Infinite narrowed his eyes. "Work is work," he grumbled, before biting into the orange segment. The tangy juice trickled over his tongue and pooled in his mouth. "Can't be picky when something falls into your lap."
"Some jobs aren't worth taking," Shadow huffed.
Infinite's fur prickled and his chest smouldered as he tried to take a breath, and failed. Screams intercut with bursts of static, then silence— no response to names. His ribs quaked.
"Some of us don't have the luxury of choice," he exhaled as he glared out to the grass outside.
Another stretch of silence. He ate another orange piece and thought about disengaging from this, letting the wound scab over. Don't pick at it. You've had to deal with working alongside former enemies, don't throw a fit now. He focused on taking in as much oxygen as he could, and then releasing it.
"You have a choice now," the voice extended. Not quite the same one that had mocked him, so the jackal considered it. "Just because he brought you back, doesn't mean you owe him anything."
Infinite turned back and twitched his nose at the hog eating his eggs. Not arguing with what he'd said, just... pointing him forward.
"Well, it's something," he sighed, "and better than doing nothing."
A nod, and then the hedgehog reached for a bag of coffee— beans, judging by the rattle as it moved. He tore the bag open and shook some out into the palm of his hand—
crumch crmch crrch
Infinite gawked as the hedgehog, once again, palmed some coffee beans and chomped them, with the grace of a seagull scarfing down a fish.
This could not be the same Shadow that killed his squad. The one who taunted him couldn't be eating coffee beans.
crrch crnch crmch
The jackal's chest quaked, but the rising in his throat emerged as suppressed chuckles, before metastasizing into wild cackling. The laughter burned his body and he collapsed in an aching heap onto the table. His eyes stung as the spasms subsided.
"You know Metal wants us to drink the coffee, right?"
The chewing paused as the hedgehog turned back. "I like the crunch," he answered. crmmch crmmch
The jackal suppressed another bout of laughter and returned to his orange.