"The international organization, Guardian Units of Nations, has been working in unison with the United States' federal and regional authorities to contain—"
Click.
"—My son and I were getting ready to start our descent into the canyon when we saw that thing—"
Click.
"—were transported to Area 51 in 1947, and the mothership has finally come to collect its—"
Click.
"When is G.U.N. going to accept responsibility for what's happening? It's common knowledge they've been working with aliens for years. It was only three months ago that our planet was nearly destroyed by one of their rogue space stations, commandeered by prior G.U.N. scientists and a group of those freaks! Does it really come as a surprise that, because of their meddling with forces out of their control and comprehension, our planet has been noticed by other universal entities?"
As dawn broke, so did the story on the alien ship hovering over one of the planet's World Heritage Sites.
No matter which country, which language, which news outlet, which news anchor, or which political affiliation, the consensus across international media was the same:
The mysterious ship was a global threat, and if it remained uncontained—
—a harbinger of doom.
Rouge sighed, dropping her chin onto her lightly curled fists and pouting.
"Isn't there something else on?" she groaned, thick eyelashes fluttering with growing disinterest. She stretched out her legs and crossed them, turning her pleading expression to her companion.
"You must be joking."
"I think there's a new episode of La Última Pasión," she suggested.
"What is it with you little aliens and telenovelas?" Stone muttered, clicking the remote button and switching to the Spanish-language channel playing the program in question. Rouge squealed in excitement, immediately sitting up from her sulking slouch and brightening.
Stone tossed the remote on his lone, bare desk and deposited himself on the stiff prison bed, resting his back against the wall and trying to adjust to sit comfortably on the thin rubber mattress. He rubbed his scruffy chin. His usually impeccably trimmed beard was overgrown, both from a lack of proper tools and the lack of desire to maintain it.
He'd been detained as an accomplice shortly after the Space Colony ARK incident, and Stone had gone with little resistance. He told himself he needed time to plan his next move; even better if he was within easy reach of G.U.N. resources. Keep your enemies closer, et cetera.
The difficult truth was that without Dr. Robotnik, he had completely lost his purpose. He had been so overwhelmed by Ivo's last words – his final goodbye – that, during his arrest, he had all but handcuffed himself and led the way to G.U.N.'s black site.
"A potentially world-ending event is occurring, and you want to watch daytime television," Stone admonished after his long pause, trying to distract himself.
"Those are a dime a dozen," the bat countered with a dismissive flick of her wrist, "Besides," she examined her delicate elbow length gloves in search of any split seams or fabric pills, "They're just regurgitating the same news."
"And this is the week we find out about Gabriella's long-lost sister," Stone conceded with a sigh.
"Now you're getting it," Rouge teased, her lazy wink accompanied by a charming smile.
The flirty little bat had scared the living daylights out of him one day, appearing inexplicably in his cell with little explanation outside of a friendly greeting and a blithe remark about how she was an auxiliary agent for the organization. When he questioned her reason for being there, she'd said simply:
"Just being a friendly neighbor!"
He initially suspected it was a psyop designed to get him to divulge details about his or Ivo's motivations and any remaining plans, but she never asked. She really didn't care to discuss anything outside of workplace gossip and celebrity news. In the few months they had become acquainted, she only ever seemed to want a friend.
However, he wasn't completely heedless of his misgivings, faint as they had become. Stone always had the distinct sense that there was something Rouge wasn't sharing – something she wanted from their impromptu friendship. The simple fact she never clarified what her role within G.U.N. was outside of the purposely vague title of "agent" meant he could never fully let his guard down.
He couldn't get a straight answer about why she was determined to keep their friendship a secret, either. If a guard passed too close or he was scheduled for an interrogation that day, she was notably absent.
A commotion outside Stone's room drew their attention. The pair looked out the window bordering his cell door at the hallway intersecting the rows of cells on either side. Rouge surreptitiously stepped out of view of anyone who might glance in as an armed caravan passed by. The soldiers jabbered excitedly amongst themselves as they hauled in a fortified metal container. Rouge's turquoise eyes sparkled, painted eyelids hooding and a smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth.
"Now that's interesting," she murmured. Her dark purple wings snapped open, and with a quick flap, she ascended toward the high ceiling, slipping aside the loose panel she used to get in and out – a tight squeeze for her, and certainly too small for a human. Stone blinked and she was gone.
Rouge followed the light leaking through the ceiling's panel junctures, careful to avoid any insulation getting in her pristine white fur. She reached a small, slated vent, where her enhanced hearing easily picked up the conversation in the hallway below.
"No, no!" one of the lieutenants called to the caravan, running up to redirect them. "Director Rockwell made it clear she wanted that thing back in cryo. The cells here aren't going to effectively contain it. Take it to the labs upstairs."
"Didn't Rockwell get promoted from Director? Isn't it Commander Rockwell now?" one of the soldiers whispered, the group's boots shuffling and the wheels of the dolly cart carrying the reinforced case scraping against the deck.
"Man, you sound just like her."
"Shut up, Steve."
The small convoy bickered and laughed as they retreated out of the main prison, waving to the two guards flanking the hangar door. Rouge watched all the while from the slits in the duct. She hummed with curiosity.
"Well, well. What do we have here?"
"Wake him up," Rockwell demanded, muscle in her jaw jumping from grinding her teeth. Her and her team stormed down the corridor leading to the secured, upper-level backrooms of the black site. The prisoner had been properly secured according to her instructions – or rather, the former Commander Walters', whose archived notes of his firsthand experience with containing the alien had proven invaluable.
The last problem they needed amidst a potential alien invasion was another one of the things running loose.
"Director," the cryogenic tech supervisor pleaded, "I don't think that's a good idea. When we recovered it, it had sustained notable head trauma. Waking it without further analysis or running the appropriate scans might result in further damage—"
"Noted," Rockwell growled, ripping off her glove and slamming her palm into the classified area's hand geometry reader, waiting impatiently as it scanned her measurements and compared them to the ones on file. The scanner beeped its approval, the door hissed open, and the team proceeded into the backrooms, harboring one of the site's top-secret labs. Rockwell paused at the entrance, halting the scientist with a stern look and adding: "And it's Commander now."
"O-Of course, my apologies, Commander Rockwell," he stammered.
With a scoff, she proceeded into the room, ignoring the troubled looks of the subordinates around her. On a good day, Rockwell could be prickly. On a bad day like this one, she was downright scary.
"Wake him up," she repeated with finality, taking an authoritative stance in front of Shadow's cryochamber.
The scientist scampered over to the control panel while Rockwell's team prepped their weapons.
"Safeties off," she directed, "Ready to fire. Await my command."
"Yes, ma'am," her team answered.
The scientist's typing ceased. He tapped a glowing green button, executing the requested protocol. He took several terrified steps back, putting the soldiers between him and the prisoner.
The soft strumming of Maria's guitar followed Shadow into consciousness, his dreams softening the abrupt awakening from his drug-induced coma.
But when he fully came to, his body jerked and his eyes snapped open, immediately meeting Rockwell's. They narrowed slowly, dangerously, brows lowering as he took in his present situation.
"Welcome back, Project Shadow," Rockwell taunted.
The familiar scene almost made Shadow lose control. Finding himself once again in G.U.N.'s custody, floating in the cocktail of chemicals of a containment cryochamber identical to the one Walters had banished him to after—
He almost snapped.
Almost.
He inhaled deeply, enough oxygen in the pod's aerated liquid to allow the gesture, seeking self-restraint.
He had already let his rage determine his decision-making in the past. With so much at stake, he was determined to be controlled. Logical.
If he was, there was a chance he could fix everything.
Besides, he thought; his unexpected capture ultimately saved him the time and effort of finding a G.U.N. site and breaking in.
Shadow regarded Rockwell with a cool, steady gaze.
"Director," he greeted hollowly.
"It's Commander now," she replied, eye twitching.
"Did I miss the inauguration?" he quipped, "Had I known, I would have brought a gift."
She clenched her jaw. The soldiers behind her exchanged glances. One bit back a snicker. The tech supervisor snorted audibly. They all quickly regained their composure after an acute glare from their boss.
"I'm glad you're feeling well enough to make jokes. Forgive me if I'm not in a laughing mood." Her eyes burned with unveiled outrage. "I don't know how hard you hit your head, but unless it was hard enough to give you amnesia," she snatched a computer tablet off the scientist's desk, tapping furiously on the screen, "Then you shouldn't be laughing, either."
Shadow didn't flinch as the newly appointed Commander slammed the pad screen-side against the glass of his chamber. A live feed of the mysterious ship filled his vision. His gaze narrowed further.
"I want to know what you know," she demanded. "What is this ship, where did it come from, and what do they want?"
"Release me, and I'll help you find out."
Rockwell scoffed dubiously. "Don't play coy," she snapped, "We found you beneath the ship when we secured the canyon."
"Circumstantial at best, Commander."
She tossed the tablet at the scientist, who scrambled to catch it. "You mean to tell me that you just happened to be nearby when this ship appeared?"
"Yes."
Her face turned a bright shade of red, biting the inside of her cheek to keep from erupting.
"I find breathing exercises help, Commander," Shadow recommended, deadpan.
Rockwell's fists started to shake, and she looked prepared to scream – when she suddenly seemed to follow the hedgehog's advice and took a deep breath. She clasped her hands behind her back.
"Here's some advice for you," she replied, "You tell us what you know, or I'll make sure you're in there another 50 years."
"I saved your planet," he shot back, eyes flashing with his first hint of emotion.
"After putting into action an attempt to destroy it. That doesn't exactly instill feelings of gratitude. I had to stand in front of the General Assembly of the United Nations and explain all of yours and those insane doctors' endeavors. Our moon was shattered. You apparently don't know or don't care about the economic, environmental, and social consequences of your actions. Earth's destruction may have been prevented, but you left behind a mess almost too big to clean up. And now, we are at DEFCON 3, on standby to go to DEFCON 2. The entire planet is in a panic. Four out of the nine countries in possession of nuclear weapons have threatened their use on American soil if the ship isn't contained. So, if you want to play hero again, now's the time."
Shadow listened patiently, considering the dire state of global politics. But he said nothing.
She shook her head as he remained silent. "Fine. If you won't help, you can rot—"
"Release me," Shadow interrupted, "And I will help you. But I am no good to anyone trapped in here."
"I beg to differ," she spat. "It is non-negotiable. You will tell us what you know, or you're going back under."
"And if I have nothing of value to share?" he asked sincerely, hard stare softening. What little information he had gathered – his look at the inside of the ship and its occupants, the alien eye's vague mention of Gerald Robotnik and the Chaos Emeralds, the symbol – painted a frustratingly empty picture. He knew if he did bother to provide these snippets, it would be so dissatisfying that it would entirely convince Rockwell to lock him away with no hope of resuscitation.
She shook her head in disappointment. "Put him back under," she ordered, turning away.
Panic bloomed in Shadow's chest, but he kept his composure.
"You're making a mistake," he said.
"We'll check in next week. Maybe you'll have come to your senses by then," Rockwell sighed, crossing her arms and waiting for the scientist to finish at the control panel.
Shadow didn't bother verbalizing another protest. His scrutinizing stare settled on the scientist as he watched the nervous man type frantically, eager to knock the alien out.
She spared a glance over her shoulder, meeting his frustrated glare with a cold one. "It's nothing personal. It's a matter of national security."
Shadow stiffened as the jets at the bottom of the pod began to bubble, pushing in the anesthetic solution. His eyelids fluttered as he felt the gentle tug of unconsciousness.
"You're making a mistake," he repeated weakly. His head lolled forward, limbs releasing their habitual tension as he returned to slumber. Rockwell and her posse departed.
She knew she was bluffing – they didn't have a week for the alien to decide he wanted to help. But she had other ways to extract the information she wanted.
"Get the basement ready," she commanded, "If he won't talk willingly, then we'll find ways to motivate him."
A/N: Thank you all so much for the sweet reviews, they're much appreciated! I've been having a blast coming back to writing after nearly a decade, and a Sonic the Hedgehog fanfiction is such a funny and fitting way to find that love for writing again, as I've been a fan since I was a kid. :3
P.S. Paramount give my girl Krysten Ritter more screen time lol