Shadow walked down the corridor. He could still hear Rouge yelling at Omega behind the door of their living quarters. He turned the corner, but the elevator doors at the end of the hall were already closing. He sighed, and Chaos Snapped into the elevator cage, startling the agents already inside. One of them nearly spilled their coffee.

The elevator began to ascend, and everyone remained frozen. 'I-I like the new look,' one of the agents stammered.

Shadow looked up. It was a junior female agent, one he didn't recognise. '… It's a standard-issue uniform.'

'I-I know.'

The doors opened, and he got out on the ground floor. Perhaps the agents meant well, but if he was going to be forced to make small talk until they reached the top floor, then he'd rather take the stairs. As he passed through the crowded stairwells and hallways, he noticed that more people were staring at him than usual. Was it the jacket? He glanced down and stopped so suddenly that his shoes left metallic red streaks on the floor.

The left side of his jacket was adorned with medals, badges and stripes.

His eye twitched. You could only see the back of the jacket when it was hanging on a hook, and thanks to Rouge, he'd been too distracted to notice the changes.

The first time he'd been bestowed a military medal, he'd refused it. He'd also said that he would never accept any medal or badge that GUN awarded him. At that time, he'd thought any honour awarded by GUN was meaningless. His opinion hadn't changed much since then. He tried to pull off one of the medals, but they were permanently sewn into the jacket. If it weren't for the fact that the scar on his back might draw even more attention than the medals, he have already thrown the jacket over the nearest railing. Was Rouge to blame for this?

He rematerialised the Chaos Emerald. The agents passing him in the hall sprang backwards or dashed out of the way. Someone screamed.

He gave them all a sharp look. 'Calm down. It doesn't have an indiscriminate area of effect.' He raised the emerald higher. 'Chaos Control!'

Shadow phased into the commander's office and hit the ground with a slam. Abraham nearly jumped out of his desk chair. 'Damn it, Shadow – you're going to give me a heart attack one day –'

Shadow gestured to the medals on his jacket with a sharp sweep of his hand. 'What are these?'

'… Medals?'

'I'm not stupid, Commander. I refused all honours from GUN. I'm not asking what the medals are – I'm asking how they made their way onto my damn jacket.'

Abraham pressed his fingers together. He looked bewildered. 'I thought you were refusing to attend all award ceremonies. Rouge asked me if she could privately accept your honours on your behalf instead. She has the discretion to do so as your team leader. I thought you knew.'

Shadow stared down at the glittering array on his chest. 'Clearly, I did not.'

'… Do you want to return them?'

'If someone hadn't permanently mounted them to my uniform, I would,' Shadow muttered.

'But you never wear your uniform.'

'There's a first time for everything. And the first time I was issued a uniform, it was a custom order that took weeks to make. Given that I "never" wear it, remaking it would be a waste of time and resources. Shadow grasped one of the medals between his thumb and fingertip. The tiny emblems were made for human-sized hands. 'I don't even know what I did to earn these.'

Abraham got out of his chair and walked over the floor-to-ceiling windows, looking out over Central City. 'Well, if you spend long enough in this line of work, you tend to accumulate them despite your best intentions.' He glanced down at his own uniform with an air of resignation, then back at the medals beneath Shadow's hand. 'I can't recall which of your exploits corresponds to which medal off the top of my head. But I can tell you what type of medals they are.'

'Hmph.' Shadow slowly walked over, taking in the view of Central City through the one-way glass.

'Those are orders of merit.'

Shadow looked down. 'I don't deserve commendation.'

'Those crosses, stars and ribboned medals are bravery awards.'

Shadow gave him a sharp glare. 'Bravery requires the presence of fear. I don't deserve this either.'

'Those other crosses, stars and ribboned medals are distinguished service awards.'

'I don't need this many of them. I don't need any of them, for that matter.'

'You brought down an alien comet with Chaos Control and the Eclipse Cannon. Remember?'

Shadow closed his eyes in frustration. 'I only have partial memory loss. I would still find it difficult to forget the moment when I killed my biological father with an orbital laser.'

'Point taken. Also, those are campaign medals.'

'You can't keep awarding those to an agent with an indefinite lifespan. There's only so much room on the jacket.'

Abraham rolled his eyes. 'I'm sure we'll find the time to make you a second jacket by then – if GUN still exists at that point. And those are service medals.'

'What the hell is the difference between distinguished service awards and service medals?'

'The former are distinguished,' Abraham said flatly. 'I couldn't tell you otherwise. And those are battle honours and fourragéres for Team Dark.'

'Fourragéres?'

'The braided cords on your shoulder.'

Shadow reached up to rip the cords off – the medals were one thing, but this was another. Then he stopped. 'These are for Team Dark?'

'Yes, why?'

Shadow lowered his hand again. '… They're a mobility hazard.'

'You never wear that jacket in the field, do you?'

'They're still a mobility hazard.'

Abraham sighed. 'By the time a unit earns those cords, most of its agents are no longer very … mobile.' He glanced at Shadow. 'Team Dark has also been awarded campaign streamers and unit citations. But you can't wear those, for obvious reasons.'

Shadow folded his arms over his chest, watching the ebb and flow of the traffic in the streets below them. He felt the cold, unfamiliar prick of metal against his arm, through his sleeve. 'I didn't join GUN to get recognition. I joined because you were the only organisation in the world with the resources needed to protect the people and things I care about. I shouldn't be rewarded for acting in my own interest.'

'Sometimes recognition is just a byproduct of doing good in the world. And even while acting in your interests, you've done a lot of good.'

Shadow was silent for a moment. '… Your colleagues seem to think that "doing good" should be enough motivation for me to blindly follow orders. I don't appreciate what happened yesterday.'

'Neither do I.' Abraham held out a hand. 'I can only extend an apology for how things were mishandled.'

Shadow flinched. Then he reluctantly accepted the handshake, withdrawing his hand almost immediately.

Abraham's brow creased. 'Do you have haphephobia?'

'What?'

'It's the fear of being touched.'

'No. I'm not afraid of anything.' Shadow crossed his arms again. 'I just have the common sense to keep people at arm's length.'

'Let's not kid ourselves – despite everything that's happened between us, I'm not a threat to you,' Abraham said. 'And you're not on the field right now. You're safe.'

'So?'

Abraham stared at him, for far longer than Shadow would have liked. 'Shadow … If GUN didn't have what you needed, would you still be here?'

Shadow tensed until his fur stood on end. 'What are you saying?'

'GUN turned you into a weapon, but you don't have to be one. You don't have to keep coming back here.'

'I know that.' Shadow gripped one of the medals until it cut into his fingertips. 'I owe GUN nothing. They're the ones who took everything from me. Like I said, you have what I need, and this is … all I know.'

Neither of them spoke for a minute.

'… I'm sorry. About yesterday,' Abraham said. 'I know I already said it, but I wondered if you might go off the grid after that debacle.'

'I considered it.' Shadow let out a frustrated sigh. 'You were only hearing out your subordinates. They're the ones that need further guidance.' He crossed his arms tighter. 'After how many times the world has nearly ended over the past year, so few of the old guard are left.'

'I know. Our turnover rate is … suboptimal.'

Shadow scoffed. 'The junior agents want to revisit the past and polish it until it shines … but some things can only be learned from, not fixed.'

'They're idealists,' Abraham said wearily. 'So many of the new generation are, and it's a double-edged sword. Many of them also lack the pragmatism that comes from combat experience.'

Shadow gave him an unimpressed look. 'Are you saying that I should stop saving the world so that your new recruits can get their asses kicked?'

'I'm not blaming you. Saving the world is what earned you all those medals in the first place, after all.'

Shadow leaned against the window. 'If your junior agents keep this up, then I'm going to have to save you all from your own incompetence.'

Abraham sat back down at his desk and picked up a pen. He looked exhausted. 'Peacetime comes with its own set of problems, Shadow. It's unavoidable. But I can avoid wasting any more of your time. I'll veto the PR division's proposal on your behalf and take disciplinary action against –'

'I never said I wouldn't do it.'

'– the appropriate parties and –' The nib of Abraham's pen snapped. 'I'm sorry, what?'

To be continued…