Shadow stood in the bathroom with his hands on the edges of the sink, staring at the mirror. His reflection stared back, seemingly unfazed.

He turned on the tap and splashed water on his face with ungloved hands. He had already been up for hours, but he still didn't feel awake. Water dripped down his quills, spattering the sink, and he slowly turned the tap off.

He was doing what he thought was right … but what if he was wrong?

'Gah!' Rouge yelled. 'Damn it!'

Shadow raised an eyebrow at his reflection. 'Rouge?' When she didn't respond, he shook his head, straightened his jacket and walked out of his room. 'What are you doing out of bed this early?'

Rouge sat at the dining table, wearing reading glasses and a fluffy dressing gown. Papers were spread across the table, and she stared at her laptop with disgust, chewing on a pen. She had rollers in her hair. Omega sat opposite her, observing in silence.

Rouge looked up at Shadow and slammed the lid of her laptop shut. 'Finally, something I actually want to look at.' She held up her hands as though framing him in a camera's viewfinder. 'My, you do clean up nice.'

Shadow grunted and pulled on his gloves. 'What were you yelling about?'

'The bat regrets volunteering to assist the intelligence department.'

'… What? Rouge, I thought you wanted to help find out who was behind the attack on the concourse.'

'Honey, I'm not that selfless. Abe asked me to help, and I figured it would be better than being bored while you're working at the hospital.' She ran her fingers through her fur and groaned. 'But now I have to argue with these old-timers about GUN's cyber-collection methods. Damn it!'

'Skip cyber-collection and jump directly to geospatial intelligence,' Omega demanded. 'Give me coordinates. Now.'

'We're trying to bring these people in for questioning, Omega,' Rouge said wearily, 'not blow them off the face of the earth.'

'I was talking about the coordinates for your coworkers. Their output is suboptimal. But either way, your current strategies are not working, and the terrorists are evading capture.'

'I am aware of that,' Rouge said through gritted teeth. 'If I had it my way, the job would be done already – all I'd need is a push-up bra and a handful of bombs.'

'Pardon?'

Rouge winked at Shadow. 'Come on, darling. Don't you know how I operate?'

'I'm not stupid,' Shadow retorted. 'I was just taken aback by how confident you were in your ability to honeytrap domestic terrorists.'

'It's easy to be confident when you have assets like mine –'

'Oh, spare me.' Shadow gave her a wary look and said, 'I know none of us follow GUN's protocols, but I thought the organisation was moving away from using … honeypot strategies.'

'You really were on ice for 50 years, weren't you? Just call it "sexpionage" like everyone else.'

'… I will not.'

'Whatever.' Rouge tossed her pen onto the table, saying, 'Every 3-letter agency around the world says that they're "moving away" from using illicit methods, including GUN. But you don't honestly believe that, do you?'

'Of course not. But these illicit methods aren't good for the organisation's image, are they?'

'No, they're not. But they get results. If given the choice, political figures are more willing to spill their secrets to Tatiana Romanova rather than James Bond.'

'You say that, but still … swallows and ravens can both fly, can't they?'

Rouge let out a shocked laugh. 'Touche. Have you been doing stints with the intelligence department behind my back?'

'Don't be ridiculous. That's your area of expertise, not mine.'

'But you just said that swallows and ravens can both fly … and you'd make a beautiful raven with that jet-black fur of yours.'

He gave her a warning look. 'We may refrain from questioning each other about our methods, but our skill sets are … vastly different. I'm not you, Rouge.'

'Well, thank Chaos for that, because I hate sharing the spotlight –'

'People only want me for my powers and abilities. That's it.'

Rouge leaned back in her chair. She seemed surprised. 'Don't sell yourself short, hon. You'd be surprised how many people would want you … though whether they could handle you is another story.'

'Well, sometimes people want what they can't have.'

Rouge's expression twisted briefly, and Omega slammed his fists down on the table. 'On that note, I want to disassemble myself. This entire conversation has been both indecent and unproductive.'

'What else is new?' Shadow muttered.

Rouge flipped open her laptop again. 'Speaking of "unproductive" … I dipped out for 10 minutes, and these fossils are still arguing about utility schematics.' She picked up her pen and began gnawing on it. 'How does an agency with a turnover rate as high as ours still have this many senior intelligence agents on staff?'

'That's a good thing. If they're still alive, then that means they're good at their jobs.'

'Why am I complaining about this to you?' Rouge said. 'You're already pushing 60. If anything, you're Exhibit A of your own argument.'

'I can't die,' Shadow said flatly. 'And I'm not an intelligence agent. I'm a field agent.'

'There are even fewer senior field agents, you know. Even Abraham doesn't work in the field any more –' Rouge broke off and squinted at her laptop screen. 'I think someone finally noticed that my camera isn't on.' She gave him a dismissive wave and said, 'Try to save the dying kids before I die of boredom, all right? Tick tock.'

Shadow stiffened. Then he turned and walked to the door of the flat. 'Don't hold your breath. I don't even know if I can save anyone to begin with.'

'Oh, not this again.' With a rustle of wings, Rouge appeared at his side and opened the door for him. 'You won't know what you're capable of until you try – so just get out there and find out for yourself.'

Omega raised one clawed hand. 'And if you still fail to save the small humans from their terminal illnesses, then I will blow up the hospital so that you can save them from something else.'

Shadow flinched, and Rouge's mouth fell open. 'Omega! What the hell is wrong with you?'

'What? Does Chaos Control not work on children?'

'That's not the point! You can't just commit domestic terrorism just to make Shadow feel better about himself! My workload is large enough as it is.' Rouge laughed disbelievingly and turned back to Shadow. 'Look. We believe in you, even if you don't. Now get moving.' She pushed Shadow out into the hallway and slammed the door shut.

The metal door reflected his blurred silhouette. After one last look, Shadow skated off and darted into the nearest elevator. The doors closed behind him. The mirrors in the elevator cage captured his reflection, and he gritted his teeth. It felt as though the world itself was insisting that he confront his weaknesses. He stepped out onto the ground floor, crossing the marble floor of GUN's lobby. Morning sunlight poured into the atrium, flooding the crowded space. His earpiece beeped.

'What?'

'We have protocols for answering comms, you know.'

Abraham's voice had a slight echo, and Shadow pivoted to see the commander walking over to him. Shadow turned his earpiece off. 'You're lucky that I answer my comms for you at all. What do you want?'

'I wanted to thank you for your work yesterday.'

'But?'

Abraham exhaled. 'But … couldn't you have been a little more discrete?'

'You don't keep me on the payroll for my discretion, Abraham. And you were the one who gave me that tipoff in the first place.'

Abraham gestured upwards, and Shadow looked up to see faint traces of red paint on the glass wall of the atrium above them. 'I know. We just can't afford unnecessary attention right now. I'm being cautious –'

'And so was I. The warehouse doors were locked, and the windows were boarded.'

'Even so, every single one of those men was maimed, Shadow.'

'They tried to kill me. I can't die, but that doesn't mean that I'm going to take attempts on my life lying down.'

'Yes, but you literally shattered their joints. You could have easily knocked them out instead.'

'Tch. What does it matter? They're going to be sitting in a cell – they don't need to be able to walk.'

Abraham buried his face in one hand. 'That's not … Oh, for heaven's sake. Prisoners still have to be provided with medical attention. Do you have any idea how expensive knee and ankle replacements are? At the very least, this approach isn't cost-effective.'

'It's extremely cost-effective.' Shadow began to tap one foot on the ground. 'If I merely brought them in, then they wouldn't learn their lesson. If I break their bones, then they'll be too scared to pick up a gun again. Gun violence costs the United Federation over 550 billion dollars every year, so you tell me what's more expensive – paying for a few joint replacements or letting these people traffic guns again.'

Abraham gave him a long look, and then he exhaled. 'Forget it. I don't know what I was expecting. Every time we send you after gun traffickers, it always turns out the same – with broken bones and the inventory count being off by one at the end.'

Shadow looked to the side and shrugged. 'It was an M60. It would have been a crime to let it get confiscated.'

'It was also a crime to keep it. You know that you get paid more than enough to legally buy any kind of gun you want.'

'No.'

'What, do you want a raise?'

'No, as in – if I'm going to use humanity's weapons against them, then it may as well be the exact same weapons.'

'Like how it had to be that "exact same" bike?'

'Hmph.' Shadow folded his arms and lowered his voice. '… Can't you understand why I – of all people – would want to use a weapon for something other than its intended purpose?'

'Of course.' Abraham briefly put his hand on Shadow's shoulder. 'That's why one of the reasons I think this program will be good for you. GUN has used you as a weapon for long enough. You should be given the chance to do what you were originally to do.'

Before Shadow could back away, he heard the sound of the sliding doors of the lobby opening. He looked over to see reporters and journalists entering the building. They filtered through the security scanners, pausing as the guards waved them down with wands.

'… Why are you letting the press in here?'

'GUN is having a press conference to make a public statement about the attack on the concourse.'

Shadow narrowed his eyes. 'Why wasn't I informed?'

Because I'm the one making the statement, not you.' Abraham gave him a bewildered look. 'But even if I gave you authorisation to speak on GUN's behalf, you've always hated talking to the press.'

'But –'

'They're not just going to be asking questions about the protests, Shadow. They're going to be asking about Maria and the Ark Disaster. Do you really want to put yourself in that situation?'

Shadow crossed his arms tightly. He could feel his medals biting through his sleeve. 'I want people to know who she really was. And I'm one of the only people who knew her while she was alive. I don't want to speak for GUN. I want to speak for her – because if I don't, then no one else will.'

Abraham stared at him. He looked stunned. 'I see. Well, if it means that much to you, then we could potentially …' He saw Scarlet Garcia, the news reporter, approaching with her camera crew in tow. He swiftly resumed a neutral expression. 'Let's come back to this later. Look, I knew her too, Shadow. Can you trust me to handle this in the meantime?'

'I don't trust you. I just don't think you're incompetent.'

Abraham folded his arms, and Shadow saw his jaw twitch. '… I did try to kill you, so I suppose that's as much as I can ask for.'

'Commander Towers,' Scarlet said, joining the two of them. 'And Agent Shadow. Will you be joining us today?'

Shadow gave Abraham a sharp look. 'Apparently not. But if you want a series of non-answers and a blanket condemnation of terrorism, then you can head to Meeting Room C on Level 2.'

Abraham subtly sliced across his own neck with one hand and glared back at him. 'Shadow already has other commitments. Speaking of which, shouldn't you be going, Shadow? I thought Agent Verity was waiting for you.'

'She is?' Shadow turned and caught a glimpse of Verity standing on the driveway beside the concourse. He sighed and stalked off without another word, passing through the security gates and sliding doors.

The concourse had been cordoned off, and there were guards stationed around the perimeter, making the premises inaccessible to unauthorised personnel. Shadow crossed the concourse with a flash of his skates, gliding to a halt by Verity's side. She was standing beside his bike, which was parked on the side of the driveway. 'Verity? What are you doing here?'

'Oh, Shadow! I wanted to wish you well before you left.'

'… That's it?'

'Is that a breach of protocol?'

'I don't give a damn about protocol, but you could have called me over comms instead.'

She shrugged and said. 'I saw you bring your bike out here earlier this morning. I figured I had a good chance of catching you.'

He shook his head and climbed astride the bike, putting his heels on the pegs. 'Don't you have better things to do?'

'Actually, I'm going to be the biomedical department's liaison with the Central City Children's Hospital.' She grinned and said, 'You're going to do great –'

'What do you honestly think is going to happen?'

'Sorry, what?'

Shadow slid the bike key into its slot, and the engine rumbled. 'GUN wanted a bioweapon, not a biomedical asset. After they took over Project Shadow, my biomedical abilities were never developed further.' He grasped the throttle grips, clenching his fists. 'But now GUN expects me to be able to cure people, even though nothing's changed.' If it weren't for the risk that he would knock himself out, he would have already slammed his head against the instrument panel out of sheer frustration. '… Are you all out of your minds?'

'I don't know what GUN's expecting.' Verity shoved her hands into the pockets of her lab coat. 'And I know that this isn't fair to you. All I'm expecting is that you do what you can with what you've got. In the medical industry, that's often all we can do.'

Shadow said nothing. Then he dug his heels into the pegs and took off, tearing down the driveway.

'Shadow!' He looked over his shoulder to see Verity waving with both arms. Even at this distance, he could still see her infectious smile. 'Good luck!' she shouted.

In the bright, early morning light, her dark hair had a golden shine to it.

For an instant, he lifted one hand from the handlebars. Then he turned his back on GUN's headquarters, weaving through the peak-hour traffic.

The hospital wasn't that far from GUN's headquarters. If the streets weren't gridlocked and you didn't care about speed limits, you could reach it in a few minutes. Exhaust fumes swirled around him, and there was a steady stream of passersby making their way from bus stations and coffee shops to nearby office buildings. He shot past a bright blue street sign that pointed toward the hospital's main entrance and took a sharp right, recognising the driveway he had skidded down less than a day ago.

He drew to a halt and flicked the indicator. The hollow clicking rang in his head.

What are you so afraid of?

Shadow shook his head and turned in, following the carpark lanes until he found a motorcycle parking space in the shadows of the hospital complex. He got off the bike, stowing the key in his pocket. As he followed the sidewalk to the main entrance, his ears pricked up. He could hear the wail of an ambulance siren, the rattle of stretcher wheels and the patter of rushing footsteps. Anywhere else, it would be the soundtrack of an emergency. Here, it was just background noise.

He stepped through the sliding doors and stopped in his tracks.

It was … colourful. The walls were covered in vibrant murals, and any harsh lines in the interior were softened by rounded corners. The overhead lights had a warm hue. He knew it was supposed to be a pediatric hospital, but the effect was uncanny. It was supposed to look inviting to young children and their parents, but to him, it looked more like a subliminal space in a horror movie.

It was a far cry from the sterile labs on Space Colony Ark or the rooms of the biomedical division in GUN's headquarters.

The hospital's foyer wasn't small by any stretch. At a glance, he could see corridors branching off to other parts of the hospital, as well as an escalator to the upper floors. There was no small number of patients, doctors and nurses present, and the noise was overwhelming.

'Can I help you?'

He pivoted and saw a woman looking at him over the top of a reception desk. The desk had 'visitor registration' emblazoned on it in oversaturated colours. '… Maybe.'

'Are you visiting?'

He walked over, glancing left and right. 'More or less.'

'ID?' she asked, holding out her hand without looking up from her computer.

He pulled out his wallet and passed her his driver's license. 'Do you need my badge, or –'

'No. Patient's full name and room number?'

'I don't know.'

'You don't know who you're visiting?'

'I'm not visiting anyone. GUN –'

'Sorry, but we have a lot of young children here. We try to avoid making references to firearms.'

Shadow resisted the urge to pick up one of the ballpoint pens on the desk and drive it into his temple. 'You're quick on the trigger, aren't you?' She gave him a cross look, and he sighed. 'No … "GUN" as in the organisation, not the weapon.' He rested his arm on the countertop. The GUN logo on his armband was reflected in the receptionist's glasses. 'I'm here on GUN's behalf.'

'… Oh. Can you call it something else?'

'Look, we're clearly going to be here all day.' Shadow began to tap his finger on the countertop. 'And if I have to start saying the full name of the organisation, then we're also going to be here all night.'

The receptionist exhaled. 'All right. Why are you here?'

He gave her a bewildered look. 'I'm here because your hospital agreed to a partnership with GUN's biomedical division.'

Shadow's driver's license fell out of the receptionist's hand, and he swiftly caught it. 'We did?'

'Is there another Central City Children's Hospital that I don't know about?'

'No, that's us.' She gave him a wary look and picked up a handheld phone. 'Director Hawthorn? Can you –'

Shadow yanked the phone out of her hand and held it to his ear, stretching the cord across the desk. 'Director? Please tell me you're aware that your hospital is running an experimental biomedical program in partnership with the Guardian Units of Nations.'

There was a long silence on the other end of the line. '… Who are you?' an elderly male voice asked.

'Shadow.' He pressed his fingers between his eyes, suppressing a migraine. 'Shadow the Hedgehog.'

'Oh. Oh! Yes, of course! … But what are you doing at the visitor registration desk?'

'Where the hell else am I supposed to go?'

'Fair point. Would you mind giving my receptionist her phone back?' Shadow tossed the handset across the desk, and the receptionist scrambled to catch it. He could still hear the director's voice, albeit faintly. 'Just check him in as a visitor for now. You should have him on file already.'

'How?'

'What do you mean, how?'

The receptionist covered her mouth with one hand and hissed into the mouthpiece of the phone. 'Director, we're a pediatric hospital. How would we already have a non-human adult on file in our system?'

'His medical records were sent over courtesy of GUN's biomedical chief. Look, I'll be there in a minute.'

The receptionist set the phone down and let out a long-suffering sigh. 'Where were we?'

'Patient name and room number. Not applicable.'

'Right. Health screening, then. Have you had any recent illnesses, potential exposures or symptoms?'

'I can't get sick, and I can't die,' Shadow deadpanned. 'That's the reason why I'm here in the first place.'

'Oh.' The receptionist's eyes widened, and he could see her mind racing. 'I see. Well, aren't you a godsend?'

'God didn't send me here. GUN did.'

'Well, a gift is a gift, no matter who sends it. Vaccination status …' She leaned forward, scanning her computer monitor. 'You're not vaccinated?'

Shadow stared at her and tilted his head. '… I physically cannot get sick. If I got vaccinated, it would make the same difference as topping up the ocean with a bucket of water.'

'No wonder they couldn't work out which desk to send you to. Anyway, visitor policy review …'

'I'm not a visitor, and I'm not known for following policy.'

'I gathered that.' She looked him up and down. 'Just try not to scare the children.'

Shadow gave her a sceptical glance. 'I think these kids are going to be too scared of dying to be scared of anything else.'

'It's just that you're … somewhat intimidating. Perhaps you could try to smile?'

'I don't have a lot to smile about.'

'Oh. I'm sorry.' Something about the receptionist's expression and tone caught him off guard. It sounded as though she wasn't just apologising for the comment … She sounded sympathetic.

Before he could tell her that it wasn't her concern, a set of double doors on the far side of the foyer swung open. An older man wearing a white doctor's coat stepped through, holding a cane. His eyes landed on Shadow immediately, and he began to hobble over.

Shadow sighed and pushed off the desk, walking towards him. As he got closer, weaving between nurses and doctors, a bitter, artificial scent wafted around him. Shadow felt his heart twist in his chest. Most people hated the smell of hospitals. He knew that it was just antiseptic, but a lot of people couldn't put their finger on it. To them, the bitter smell was the scent of bad memories.

Shadow met the man in the middle of the hospital foyer. 'Director.'

The director beamed. He was short, and Shadow didn't have to look up at him the same way he did with Abraham. 'Enough of that. Call me Iain.' His white hair was thinning, and he wore aviator-style glasses. His cane had an eagle carved into the handle. He held out a hand.

Shadow gazed down at the man's weathered, shaking fingers, and his heart sank. This would have been so much easier if these people were like the doctors and scientists he'd worked with in the past. Cold. Clinical. Impersonal. But like Verity, the people he'd begun to meet were different … and he couldn't bring himself to be caustic.

Shadow reluctantly shook Iain's hand, only for the man to take his hand and pull him along, marching briskly toward the double doors he had emerged from. Shadow thrusters ignited, and he coasted along beside the director. He was too startled to pull his hand free. 'Um … sir?'

'Didn't I just say to call me Iain? And don't look so shocked, son. We only have a week with you, so we have to make it count! On the double!'

They passed through the double doors, which swung shut behind them. The smell of antiseptic washed over Shadow, soaking into his fur and mingling with the scent of burnt rocket fuel. He took a shallow breath. It was antiseptic. It was just … antiseptic.

'Are you all right, son?'

Shadow shook his head. It wasn't just antiseptic – it was the smell of years' worth of memories.

'... I don't like hospitals.'

Iain let Shadow's hand go and patted him on the shoulder. 'No one does, son. You don't need to beat yourself up over it.' Then he took off again, waving his cane in the air. 'All right, come on! Time's a'wasting!'

Shadow watched him hobble away, listening to the tapping of his cane on the linoleum floor. The last person who had called him 'son' had been the same man who had destroyed his memories and transformed him into the weapon he was today, robbing him of his intended purpose as a cure.

He exhaled and slipped his hands in his pockets. Then he put his thrusters on a low burn and followed Iain down the hall, moving forward one step at a time.

To be continued ...