I wake up to the sound of a long, unpleasant beep on the other side of the door. The night was less than comfortable; I tossed and turned for some of it. At other times, I woke up for no reason. So, I don't feel great as I drag myself up enough to see what's going on. A tray starts to slide under the sizable space below the door – a tray with food on it. Looks like I will be getting more than one meal a day. Maybe only breakfast and dinner, but I can survive on that. Even though it looks like just a plain bowl of oatmeal and a lidded cup of what I assume is water, it's better than taking an injection.
After I eat, I put the dishes back on the tray and slide it under the door, pushing it roughly so it goes out farther. Hopefully they see it and let me out soon; the nightgown I'm wearing scratches at my skin when I stand up, making me itchy. It's seriously uncomfortable and I long badly for my normal clothes. They should've been returned to me already, damnit! I don't want to be stuck in this dress all day, especially if I have to put up with the Experiment. I'm already dreading the idea of continuing those stupid lessons.
When I hear the sound of my 'bedroom' door being unlocked, I tense at the thought of who might be behind it. It could be the escort, or the monster himself; so I steel myself when the door opens. But neither is on the other side. What stands in the opening is another robot, big and bulky, blocking the threshold. I hardly have time to process its armoire-esque design before it opens its compartment and reaches inside with its three-pronged pincer hands for a hanging set of clothes.
"What's happening?" I ask, rolling the dice on whether it can speak.
It pulls a dark gown and a pair of shoes from its body, thrusting them at me demandingly. "Dress," it commands in a warped voice, then closes and relocks the door. Again, Eggman's drones speed through their tasks, not allowing me any time to comprehend what they're putting me through. When I look down at the heavy dress in my arms, I see it's mostly black. Once I hold it up for a clearer inspection, lots of fabric and layers make it clear this is a ballgown.
A ballgown, really? There's purple lacy accents running down the middle and across the hem of the puffy skirt, also decorating the edge of the short elegant sleeves. There's a strip of fabric that looks like it'll cinch around my neck, with a tall collar flaring up from the backside. Below that, the back of the dress is cut out, and the material on the inside is a deep red that nearly fools itself into looking ebony. A long pair of black gloves hangs onto the front, attached with a clip.
My face pinches more the longer I look at it, my nose scrunching up in contempt. The gown gives me a bad feeling. I don't want to put it on… but, the sad excuse for clothing currently covering my body is getting more uncomfortable the longer I wear it. I would go crazy with this fabric scratching my skin all day! So, I let out a breath to concede my fate in this outfit and whatever plans they have for me in it. At least it isn't some skimpy slave costume; I'll give this dress a chance over that any day.
I slip into the gown and it fits me well enough. There's a little more room around the waist than I need, and the bodice is a bit snug… but I can wear this. The silky inside is luxurious, I have to admit – and the lace is much softer than the dreadful material I slept in. The shoes lie on the floor from when the bot threw them at me, one heel tipped over and waiting. Although I think they could've given me some pantyhose to go with the black leather pumps, I resort to grumbling the thoughts in my own head. No one would listen if I asked for them, anyway.
After stepping into my new shoes and shuffling to fit them more comfortably on my feet, I draw in a steadying breath, preparing to face the day. With my exhale, I knock firmly on the door, then shout, "I'm done getting dressed! You can open the door now!"
I turn my head to listen, then add, "Tell me there's someone out there to let me out of here!"
The lock clicks and my door is opened again; this time, it's the escort bot who meets my gaze. The handcuffs are already primed in its grip. I wonder if I could get away with asking for some leeway…
Clasping my hands behind my back, I smile sweetly at the robot. "Could we skip the handcuffs this time, darling? I'm actually starting to warm up to this place!"
The circles atop its head turn red and it emits an angry beep. Looks like there's no sweet-talking this minion. So, begrudgingly, I let it cuff me to get out of my room. I assume I'm going to be led to the study, but instead I'm taken through corridors I don't recognize. It isn't until we reach a certain hallway that I realize the robot is taking me to the ballroom. The ballroom! Now the gown makes sense. Oh, but does that mean…?
A groan leaves me when the possibility dawns that I might be put through another stupid performance for the Doctor. My first day in this castle had me waltzing beside other prisoners; will they be back again too? It's been a few days already… they would be even more malnourished by now.
When the ballroom doors open, I instantly see there's no one else inside – except the one creature I didn't want to lay my eyes on. The black figure, dressed in white, stands alone. He's adjusting red gloves beneath long sleeves, pulling them up tightly from under his inhibitor rings to fit the material snugly on his hands. In the middle of the room, he's already staring at me, a fact I can't hide from as I'm brought closer to the Experiment. From above us, classical music plays, not very loudly but still echoing in the big room. When I'm close enough to speak with him, Shadow seizes the first word while the minion uncuffs me.
"Fine morning, spy." His eyes regard me with a coldness; there's no sign of arrogance today. "You seem compliant."
"Hm," I hum with an air of contempt. "I don't have much of a choice, do I? I'm not in the mood for a death wish, so fighting you isn't my fancy right now." I trail my sight around the room. "What I care more about is why the ballroom is empty. I expected to see other prisoners around."
The hedgehog reaching out his hand grabs my attention – his palm points up, as if he's offering something. The other hand is hidden behind his back and his posture is stiff. Is he plotting?
"Dance with me," he commands calmly.
I'm taken aback and look around again as my brows pinch in confusion. "With no one else here? I thought this would be another tedious performance for Robotnik. What's the angle?"
"Does there always have to be an angle to it? Some would call it 'having fun,' wouldn't they?"
A chill runs down my spine and I cross my arms to keep from visibly shuddering. "Fun, huh? I see it differently."
His eyelids start to droop and it looks like he's losing his patience with me, though his tone doesn't change. "Regardless, I am not asking." A golden spark flickers from his fingertips, then smaller shards of amber arc around his hand. "It's an order, Rouge. If you won't comply, you'll be persuaded."
A threat. An easy one to make, considering his power in this position. Looking at the electricity circling his hand – hearing the quiet crackle of the sparks – I figure I need to take this threat seriously. He's suggesting he'll shock me into obedience if I don't go along with his demand, like he does with the other captives. What was it Sonic had said?
"His Chaos energy… really hurts."
I'm a hearty woman, and I can take it just as well as I can dish it out; eating a punch won't knock me down for long. But being shocked… electrocuted, even if non-fatally… that's something I might not handle so well. And if Sonic's screams from his fight with Shadow are anything to go by, I'd better listen.
"Fine," I tell him, waiting until he retracts his powers to give him my left hand.
As my fingers slide into his grip, the yellow-orange hue of his ability enters his blood-colored eyes, subtly at first. Within seconds, the colors are shifting across his irises in a steady pattern, displaying his preparation to zap me if I step out of line. Meanwhile, his free hand is slipping around my waist, and the tickle of satin gloves against my bare skin sends a warm shiver up my back. It makes me uncomfortable, but at the same time, it feels luxurious. With this sense of unease, enduring another dance with the Ultimate Lifeform feels like a punishment, even with clearer forms of potential torture just out of sight.
He leads, coaxing me into a waltz to the rhythm of the musical notes singing above our heads. I'm tense, on edge at the possibility that he might just decide to shock me for fun. He's never done it before, but things are so different in this castle. I wouldn't put anything past him – especially thinking back to how he treated me in the dungeon. All it takes is one thought, one moment of sadism, and I could be a shaking mess at his feet. It would be so easy…
But thoughts like that will only serve to rattle me. I have to turn my mind to other things! As we step in tandem across the dance floor, I take in my surroundings again, more thoroughly this time. I notice the room is dimmer than it was before. The lanterns lining the walls aren't shining as brightly as when we performed for Dr. Eggman. It makes the walls look a bit darker and more bronze than the cream color they really are. And though my dance partner is cold and uninviting, this room is the opposite; serene and welcoming, even a little cozy. The setting would be romantic if my hand was being cradled by someone I actually liked.
I feel Shadow's hand leave my waist, making me pay more attention as he pulls away from me, my fingers still in his grasp. I only have a moment to register the gentler expression on his face before he lifts my hand in the air and guides me to twirl. What is he doing?! I can't stop from showing bewilderment as I hesitate to turn, and the stalled spin offsets my footing. The tug on my fingers leads me to finish the twirl, but once I've turned around, I have to brace my other foot in front of me to keep from stumbling, and my right hand instinctively lands on his shoulder.
Wide with surprise, my eyes stare into his. Was he toying with me? Trying to throw me off? If so, I hate to admit it worked! I can't believe Shadow just-
"What was that?" I blurt out, unable to fathom my enemy doing such a thing.
His eyebrows shift as if he's puzzled. "A graceful spin. It's part of the dance. Although, your execution was… less than graceful."
Feeling a little flustered, I reply, "I didn't know you were going to spin me! Why would you do that?"
He takes a pause, probably considering how to respond. I'm managing to keep up with his continued steps, even in the face of mild embarrassment; while also trying to decipher his demeanor. His expression is less harsh than it was a minute ago, and now I notice how low his eyelids have dropped above his eyes. He almost has the same look he did when we first danced, but instead of being smug and sly, there's a more tender quality to his gaze. It actually draws my attention to a subtle difference about him – his eyelids look darker. Not just darker, though. They're a different color too.
Compared to the rest of his fur, they're more brown than usual. So, is he wearing… eyeshadow? Makeup? Him? He didn't get this dolled up before! I'm completely baffled by his choices lately, because this behavior is not what I'm accustomed to with Shadow the Hedgehog. Is this really what he's like outside of battle? It's mind-boggling, but I don't want to say anything about it. I shouldn't. I can't risk insulting him by questioning too much, or risk receiving a shock for it. I also don't want to accidentally compliment him on his look, no matter how fascinating it is to see him like this.
He answers my question plainly, "I didn't expect you to be caught off guard by a simple dance move. You're typically so nimble; but perhaps you weren't paying attention."
I tense more at his comments and my mind swirls with so many comebacks to each of his points that I can't pick one to say out loud. I know the words would come out jumbled if I tried, keeping me from saying anything at all. Damnit! His sharp tongue has effectively tied mine. I also realize, with the tightening of my grip, that my hand is still on his shoulder. I quickly pull it away, grabbing the skirt of my dress to act like I need it off the ground, even though it's the perfect length.
Changing the subject, I respond, "Truthfully, I struggle to see how this helps your social skills. Shouldn't I be giving you a lesson?"
Funny how my tune has changed from how I felt this morning. I was dreading a lesson then, but now I'd much prefer it over waltzing. I'm unnerved at how seamlessly his palm contours to my back; how the other hand's grasp hasn't wavered since our gloves re-met. He wants me here for a reason.
"Actually, I've decided I'd rather have a lesson every other day. I have duties to attend to in-between."
Probably attacking more cities and capturing more people… My voice is stiff when I ask, "Then, why am I being forced to dance, if you would kindly enlighten me?"
Shadow closes his eyes briefly and, with a short musing hum, a tiny smirk touches his lips. I can't even tell anymore if he's only doing this to torture me, or if he somehow enjoys it for another reason.
"I've been interested in dance for some time. But I've never had a sufficient partner to practice with. The robots are graceless, and it's a gamble as to whether or not the prisoners have the skill to match mine. Even if they do, they aren't usually healthy enough to keep up." Still swirling with Chaos energy, his gaze is glued to mine. "However, I know how graceful you can be. You proved as much the first day you came here."
There's an insistence in his eyes, silently backing up his words and making me feel warm again. What is this flattery? It's unbecoming of him, despite the factual nature of his claim. I am graceful – it's one of my strongest skills! But it's drawn more of his attention. Good that he sees me as valuable; that'll keep me alive. But the way he's looking at me makes me nervous like I've never been before, especially around him.
I break eye contact and say, "Then I guess I'm beholden to your wishes," with a touch of melancholy. It's only slightly feigned to try and make him feel sympathy, if he's capable of any. Part of the hopelessness in my tone is real.
His view on me sticks for a while and I use the next minute or so of silence to think about what I've learned. Mulling over Shadow's behavior since I've been here, I'm noticing a pattern. He's less aggressive than he's been in the past – he hasn't snapped at me since he brought me to the dungeon. He was oddly agreeable at dinner, even when I was defying him. And now he's having me dance with him in a beautiful gown fit for a gothic princess, while he's glammed himself up in a nice white suit and eyeshadow.
Analyzing it all, I have to wonder if the Experiment has developed a bit of a crush on me. He certainly wouldn't be the only one, and it speaks to my beauty if even the Ultimate Lifeform can't resist being attracted to me. The thought makes my shoulders tense again, but I can't help the way it also makes my heartbeat speed up. Could that be why he's treating me more like a captive guest than an imprisoned enemy? I can't imagine Eggman would care to give me a bed to sleep on and real food to eat. Shadow's the reason I'm not rotting in a cell right now.
Ugh, what am I thinking? I can't be allowed to feel anything positive towards this ruthless being; it would be an insult to my entire career and my sense of morality! The niceties on their own I could ignore, as they don't make up for the shitty things he's done. But part of the problem is his stupid, devilishly handsome face. Combined with this softer stare and his deep, smooth voice… it's all making me consider the parts of him I didn't see before. It's dangerous! Couldn't he have been ugly – hideous, even? – to make it that much easier to despise his gaze?
"Rouge," he suddenly says, and I almost jump out of my thoughts. "As I don't require a lesson yet, this dance will be your only expectation for the day. Once we're finished here, I'll have your clothes returned to you, and you'll be escorted back to your room."
Processing what he said, my words come out slowly as I choose to speak carefully. "Oh… Good to finally be getting my clothes back. But, it's a shame I won't have anything to keep me from boredom in that tiny room. You know, insanity tends to creep in with nothing to stimulate the mind."
"Don't be so dramatic," he states with a quick roll of red eyes. "You'll hardly be driven to madness within one day."
I let a sigh blow from my nose, denying his gaze again in favor of the empty room. He's determined to show me a bad time. One he can revel in, knowing how much it irks me.
His grip on my hand tightens. "You're still a prisoner."
When I don't give him my attention, the satin-wrapped palm on my back presses more firmly against my skin and he jerks me towards him in a short, pestering tug. That makes me look at him again, offended as my brows furrow at the repulsive pull; instantly, I lean back from his clutches, throwing off our rhythm enough to halt his steps, and I frown deeply. He frowns too.
"Don't forget, thief… this is not a palace to be run by you. We will decide what needs of yours should be met."
Ah, considering himself an extension of the Doctor again, and using his stern tone – that's the Shadow I'm more used to. The disgustingly loyal, overpowered minion. I have to keep in mind how easy it is to bring out this side of him. It'll certainly help to keep my head in the game and resist his distractions. The sparks in his eyes have grown stronger, so I hold my tongue, blinking a begrudging acknowledgement of his words before letting him continue the dance.
The rest of our steps are taken in silence, save for the heavenly music that severely clashes with the feud fuming between us. Our eyes stay locked in an unspoken battle, invisible shards of shared hatred being driven into each other by our dagger-sharp stares. We're at a stalemate now, at yet another impasse where we both refuse to back down. He decides when the waltz ends, but I won't indulge the egocentric desire to show off this talent of his. Judging by the flare in his temper, he'll be tiring of this pesky performance soon enough.
The carpeted hallway muffles my steps as I'm brought back to my room. Shadow let go of me the second the song ended, and hardly looked at me while I waited for my escort. He must've realized there was no point in making more conversation with me. Luckily, he didn't go back on his promise to give me my clothes; I kind of expected him to, but maybe he wanted me out of the attire that technically belongs to his master. Wouldn't want his trouble-making enemy to luxuriate in something she doesn't deserve, I'd bet. Well, that's more than fine! Walking with my own uniform in my arms, I feel like I've won our little battle. The fact that I pissed him off and got what I wanted is a victory to me, despite the small solitary space I'm returning to.
When I'm left alone with nothing but empty space and a twin bed, I strip off the beautiful dress and slip into my familiar outfit, appreciating it all the more after wearing something that didn't fit me perfectly. Then I crawl onto the bed and lie on my back, looking up at the ceiling. It's crazy to think how much things have changed already, and I've been here less than a week. I learned more about my enemy going along with his activities than I did in the entire year I spent chasing him under G.U.N's instruction. They kept their files so close to the vest, I never really got to know anything about him beyond the surface-level info they were willing to share. The info I needed to do my job; nothing more.
I know more about Robotnik, though that's not saying much. His exploits are more common knowledge because he's so public about his business. The crazy old man has no problem raving about his master plans to anyone who picks a fight with him, while his guard dog attacks on his command. But the Experiment… we don't really know his motivations. I don't, anyway. He was stolen, but why would he follow Eggman's orders so loyally? Is the freedom from his original captivity really enough for him to pledge his soul to evil? Or is he truly evil himself, and the Doctor is a convenient way for him to carry out the destruction he craves?
I shift on the bed, confused by what I know now in contrast to what I knew before. He's a menace to the outside world. But in here, he's… different. Calmer, and more patient. If he was evil, wouldn't he be just as mean in this palace? He wouldn't be showing a shred of mercy in the place where he'd be allowed to act as horribly as he wanted. Instead, he seems to turn into some kind of aristocratic loner. I doubt anyone else but the madman and his minions have seen that side of the Ultimate Lifeform. And I wonder how much of that Eggman sees, anyway. Maybe he cares about Shadow to an extent, but I can't imagine he makes much of an effort to get to know his bodyguard.
My thought process is broken when I hear something sliding on the floor. I sit up and turn to see a book laying just past the gap under the door; the book I was reading yesterday. That's… surprising. Shadow said I'd have to deal with the boredom. Did he change his mind? He's the only one who knew I was reading that novel. Maybe he did… He's been surprising me a lot lately, and I've already suspected he might be crushing a bit. This gift could be proof that I'm right! I can use that… if he has feelings for me, I can catch him off guard. It'll be tough, considering how buttoned up he is, but I can do it. I just have to keep my wits about me, and not let his formal little niceties trick me into thinking he'll let me go willingly.
Glad that I now have something to do besides think, I grab the book off the floor and open to page one, settling as comfortably as I can on the bed to reread the beginning. It starts with a lesson I decide to file in the back of my brain as a reminder.
A demon's mouth will promise things you've always desired. His eyes will reflect the dreams you want to live. Yet, beware, for the price is everything. If you submit to him, your soul – and anything you hold dear – becomes imprisoned in his claws.
Hunt the demon, and reclaim yourself.