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It had been a very long time since he held a stuffed animal. The graying man in a lab coat stood before a dark steel door, looking at the child’s toy in his hand. His fingers cradled its back and behind the neck, and the small marble eyes reflected off the fluorescent lights. The synthetic fur was dark brown with some light gray spots, and the arms and legs were splayed outward, encouraging the man to embrace it. He looked over the facial features, wondering what kind of animal it was supposed to be.
A cat? Or is it a bear?
He turned it over to study it from another angle, then looked up at the door. He hesitated to enter, unsure of how the resident inside would react. Bracing himself for anything, he reached out to a keypad beside the door, under which was a placard labeled “Shadow 0026.”
“Papa, wait!”
The man turned to the voice to his right to see a young girl, his beloved granddaughter, jogging down toward him. Her fair blonde hair flowed elegantly behind her, and her frail legs rippled the skirt of her dress, feet barely making a sound. She stopped before him, breathing heavily from the taxing light run.
He took in the sight of the girl’s exhausted state, concern showing on his face. He noticed there was a bright red object in her hand.
“What’s wrong, sweetheart,” he asked in a hushed tone, kneeling before her and cradling her face. “Are you alright? Why are you out of bed?”
“Oh, it’s nothing!” She beamed, still breathless and flushed
“You know you’re not supposed to run around like that, you could get sick.”
“I know, Papa, I’m sorry.” She looked down at her hand, holding the red item. She uncurled her fingers around it and held it out to him. A little red handkerchief.
He looked at the cloth, furrowing his brows and smiling. He looked back into her radiant blue eyes, not moving to touch the handkerchief. “What’s this, Sweetie? Did you make this for me?” He looked back at the cloth, noting its size was much too small to fit his neck. He imagined it could be wrapped around his wrist, perhaps? Maybe for his front pocket?
The girl laughed. Her laugh was one of his favorite sounds, and it rang into him as well as the warmth that accompanied it. She shook her head wildly. “No. It’s for the kitty!”
“It is?” He made his voice comical
She looked at the stuffed animal in his hands and gently reached out to it, rubbing the ears. “So he doesn’t get cold.”
“‘He,’ huh?” He took the handkerchief from her open hand. “Does ‘he’ have a name?”
“Hehe, I can’t name him!”
The man smiled at her cheerful expression and grin lined with baby teeth, a gap at the front. Her breathing slowed, and the flush faded some. He nodded at her statement. “Indeed, you’re right. Do you want to tie it around his neck?”
Her smile waned. “I can’t. I don’t know how.”
“You don’t? Well, I’ll have to show you later, how’s that? Why don’t you hold him for me?” He held out the plush to her and she grabbed it by the midsection. The man looked at the clothing again, and noticed that it looked familiar. He brought it behind the cat’s neck and twisted the ends at the front.
“Wasn’t this your rabbit’s scarf? Izzy, is that her name?”
“Yeah, but she doesn’t want it anymore. She doesn’t like red. She said the kitty can have it.”
“Well,” the man said, tying the ends together around the toy cat’s neck, “I hope she’s happy now.” He twisted the scarf around so the tie was in the back, and he looked at his handiwork. He smiled at it.
“Can I give it to him?”
He looked at her young round face, so full of life and innocence. Her breathing was still a little loud, but steady. He could see by her excitement that she really wanted to meet the new resident. The man was excited too. Hopeful, and relieved for the first time in a long time, not only for her to meet the child, but for the future for the girl. Her youthful wide-eyed perspective couldn’t comprehend the significance of who was behind that door yet. “He” would change their lives for the better, if they played the cards right. “He” would save the girl from the sickness she suffered since birth. They would finally go back home, to Earth, many miles below. And later, “he” would go on to help humanity through strife and war. Everything would be perfect.
But it wasn’t time yet. They still had a lot of work to do. And the girl was still sick.
And she was still out of bed.
The man smirked and shook his head, cradling her cheek. “No, I’ll give it to it–him. He’s still new, so we don’t want to scare him too much. Besides, last time I checked–” he took the toy and looked at his watch playfully–”it is way past your bedtime, little goose. Go back to bed, you’ll probably see him tomorrow.”
“Promise?’
“I promise.”
The girl smiled wide, showing her teeth again with missing spaces and hugged her grandfather around his neck. He gently embraced her back. She let go of him quickly, still grinning.
“I’ll tell it–him–you gave him the handkerchief, how does that sound?”
She scrunched her shoulders and giggled. “Thanks. I love you, Papa.”
“I love you too, sweetheart,” he said, standing once more. “Good night.”
“G’night.” She turned on her heels, still beaming, and started to run down the hall in a gentle manner.
“Maria! Don’t run, please!” he called to her. She slowed down some while laughing, then disappeared around the corner. The man huffed. That girl is gonna get me in trouble.
He turned back to the door and entered the code on the keypad, the door opening automatically to the side. He stood where he was and looked in. The light was off, but the area closest to the door was faintly illuminated by the lights in the hall, and any leftover glow from Earth, almost faced away from the window. There was seemingly no one in there. But he could barely catch the shuffling from behind the closet door.
He hesitated again, still unsure. It probably heard us, he thought, I don’t know if I should disturb it. He looked at the closet door, which was slightly open, but he knew the young one was huddled against the corner inside.
“Shadow 0026.” The child was the first iteration of their attempts in creating a lifeform to have a room like the other residents aboard the space colony. It was very much one of a kind. But he was still unsure if it was wise to give it this much freedom. Sure, it was docile, timid, and frightened of the new world it’d been brought in, but what if this was a mistake? What if the conditions of its body were too unstable? What if it became uncontrollable? What if it’d hurt someone, or itself? Though the previous days and months of working on it showed promising results, and no sign of instability, he and his colleagues had some doubts
He could almost hear Maria’s voice correcting him. “Not ‘it’,” she would say, “‘He.’”
The man held the toy to the level of his chest, eyes still on the closet. No other sound came from there. He looked at the toy, then back at the door.
I guess time will tell. He took a step forward.
“Hey, kiddo,” he said softly, “it’s just me, the Professor. I’m just going to step in for a moment.” He stopped at the closet door, but decided against looking inside. He kept moving forward, slowly and silently. He came to the bed, fit for a toddler and tidily made. “Don’t worry, I’ll be gone soon. I just wanted to give you something.”
He looked down at the cat, now bathed in darkness with a faint silhouette from the outside lights.. “I have a gift for you. It’s a…it’s a small toy cat. It’s soft, and you can hold it and make you feel safe.” The red handkerchief still seemed to stand out, and he smiled softly, remembering his granddaughter. “You’ve seen the little girl, Maria? She gave you a nice red scarf for it.”
He stroked the ears and muzzle of the cat, wondering if that’s what the child in the closet felt like yo the touch.
“She really likes you. And she doesn’t want you to be scared. I know you probably are, and that’s ok. You can take your time.” He set the toy down on the bed, putting his hands in his coat pockets. “But the cat will make you feel better.”
He looked back over to the closet. No noise. No child. He huffed. It–He–probably wasn’t even listening.
Standing over the bed, he pondered for a moment. Pondered about the child in that closet. His unusual appearance. His potential. The limitless possibilities for his future, good or bad; hopefully good. He imagined his granddaughter’s face, grown, elongated, matured and full of life and the same energy she had now, and more. Long, healthy blonde hair framing cheeks that are no longer sickly pale. What kind of life did she want to lead? How many boys would later chase her down? She’d finally be able to run around: how fast could she go? He wondered–
That’s not what this is about.
His face fell when that thought came upon him. Maria’s face disappeared, and he saw the cat on the bed again. No, that’s not what this is about.
But what is this about? Nothing came to him. No images, words, predictions, nothing. Everything was just as uncertain as when the child wasn’t there. Perhaps even more uncertain. This was his twenty-sixth attempt in creating an immortal life.
He was never a religious man. Anyone in his field of study and work would have to set fire to such beliefs of any all-powerful being who created the Universe and its rules. Maybe some common man may find comfort in such a god; comfort in an easy explanation for everyone’s existence, purpose in life, and the pearly gates of the afterlife. Maybe some common man may find comfort in washing their hands of their sins in a basin of holy water, or confessing their wrongdoings to an appointed priest, or sprinkle ashes on their heads to mourn the loss of a soul or of worldly habits. Some common man may find comfort in sitting on a pedestal over all the lowly people, held high by the power of millennia-old texts.
But for a man like him and the dozens of others high above the common man by the power of careful science, these beliefs had to be left at the door. Not only that, but they were destroyed. After decades of working in his field, any and all thoughts of such myths couldn’t cross his mind. All phenomena that occurred on Earth or beyond never happened by the hands of God.
Earthquakes never happened by God favoring the Israelites–they happened by the natural tectonic shifts. Life wasn’t conveniently created by God, to only be used to His benefit–life was spontaneous, and happened over long periods of time, and evolved as the Earth evolved. The Earth was not the center of the universe, as those old texts would hint–it was just one among countless others in the Milky-way Galaxy; which was one among countless others. And as time moved forward, humanity would unlock more secrets of the universe.
And here he was, above the Earth, unlocking more as he breathed.
But one myth that occasionally surfaced crept to the forefront of his mind again, when he thought of the child huddled in the closet: the Icarus that flew to the sun.
Science had advanced humanity, with many trials and errors to where it was in the present. The wonderful blessings of success, and the ugly consequences of mistakes brought them all here. And the man was, once again, making history with the twenty-five failures in his wake. The consequences of those past attempts were costly, financially and in terms of the lives on board the Space Colony ARK.
And with the circumstances of Number 26… he could only imagine what would happen if it were to go wrong. Number 26 was of a species he had limited knowledge of, as well as the power endowed in it. He didn’t know enough about the mysterious being who came across his distressing work, or the true cost of the being’s help in the man’s most desperate state. Despite the promising results, he couldn’t help but to think he bit off more than he could chew, and that it would only be a matter of time before he would be the next soul to have his wings melt in his trajectory to the sun. Would this Project Shadow, Number 26, finally fasten the wax appendages to his back, and launch him to his death in pursuit of something higher?
There was too much at stake this time. There was no room for mistakes.
But this was also the first iteration of Project Shadow to roam free, after much debate. To have its own room. To be left unattended. To be treated somewhat equally. Even though the rules have been relaxed, because of the Subject’s docile behavior and his granddaughter’s insistence, the future of mankind was in the Subject’s and the man’s hands. He had to play his cards right, or else the best that could happen would be becoming the next Legend of Icarus. At worst, he didn’t even want to imagine what the mysterious being who assisted in Number 26 planned for the world below, if the man didn’t deliver.
With tears threatening to pool, the man looked back toward the closet with the child, not seeing any movement. The child was so scared, so small in this new world it was brought into. So different among the humans around it. It had limited to no knowledge of anything, including language. The man may as well be raising an infant.
But so, so much more than an infant.
The possibilities with the child’s future were unlimited–perhaps even surpassing Icarus’ imagination. But with the multitude of layers regarding the child’s existence, as well as its future, only one image could form in the man’s mind: His beloved granddaughter, Maria.
To keep himself from spiraling and drowning under the pressure of his success, he thought of her. If not for the satisfaction of his begrudged employers, the Guardian Unit of Nations, it was for her.
He thought of her on her best days, and most especially on her worst. The days where she would be carried to the ICU, unconscious with her limbs dangling almost lifeless. The days her heart would falter, but miraculously keep going despite her body’s failures. Where her eyes would be bloodshot, and her skin so pale it was almost purple or gray. Where her lungs would give out. Where her pain and struggle to survive were stronger than that of an undefeatable soldier.
But despite all of it, it was her hopeful smile that he held on to. She was determined to grow up. She was determined to go to Earth, go to a real school, be chased by all the boys, get married with a family, and grow old. Despite all her own pains and seeing the twenty-five failed attempts, she still had hope.
And the man would be damned if he couldn’t see it through. To hell with G.U.N.; if he had to pay the price and fall to his demise after reaching too close to the sun to see Maria live on, so be it.
His vision focused back on the closed sliding door of the closet, barely picking up the outline in the darkness. There was still no movement.
The man’s throat tightened, and his jaw set.
Please work, he thought, you have to save her. You have to.
* * *
The scary giant was gone now. It spoke, then silence, then it spoke again. And then it left.
The child sat in complete darkness, his knees to his chest, and his arms around his shins. All he could hear was his breathing, his heart in his ears, and that soft high-pitched ringing when no other sound could be heard. He kept his eyes on the crack on the door of the closet, wondering if the giant really had left.
It spoke to him, he knew it. He noticed the giant only using that gentle tone toward him. The giant didn’t pose any harm. It was kind, that he knew of. Though, he couldn’t be fully sure.
It spoke, but he didn’t understand much. He picked up sounds he knew. “Professor.” “Don’t worry.” “Safe.” He heard “Maria” a few times before, and remembered liking the sound. He liked hearing that word, and how it felt falling quietly from his own lips.
After a prolonged period of silence, the child decided it was safe to come out, as the giant most likely wasn’t there anymore. Keeping low, he crawled toward the door and slipped his hand through the crack, pushing it open a few inches. No giant. He opened it further and poked his head out cautiously, looking all around. Nothing. And the door out of the room was closed. He was alone.
He kept his eyes on that door and stood, hand on the frame of the closet. His heart continued to pound through his body. He didn’t know what that feeling was, but he hated it. He felt shaky, and like he would collapse, or explode. He breathed quickly but deeply through his tightened throat. He didn’t know what was happening to his body, or why. But he knew he didn’t want to see that door open, or another giant standing outside.
He stepped out of the closet and rounded the corner to where his bed sat, still wary of anyone possibly coming in at any moment. The beatings in his chest started to slow, and it was a bit easier for him to comprehend his surroundings. He craned his neck up to see the surface of the bedside table. Nothing on it was moved or changed in any way–it still had a glass of water and some sort of monitoring device. He turned to the bed and pressed his hands on top of the mattress, standing on his toes to peer over the comforter. Noth–
Wait…
At the end. There was something there…
He froze when he saw it. The object on the bed. He didn’t know what it was, and it wasn’t there before. Maybe the giant left it there. Was it for him?
With his hands still on the mattress, he inched closer to the end to get a better look at it. Though it was dark, he could see every detail. He stopped at the end and studied the object some more.
Shrouded in darkness, he couldn’t make out the colors. But he could see the textures, and saw its outline shine a bit from the distant light from the window. It was soft, just like him. He noticed that it had the same fur all around it just like he did. He brought his focus to his hands on the mattress, looking at his own fur. Stark black, with a lighter stripe along his middle fingers and down his wrist. And there were the multiple bands around his wrists: the silver rings, and the flimsy label with the words “Project Shadow 0026,” which he didn’t know what it meant. And fur. He looked at the object again.
It looked to be the size of his head, maybe a little smaller; he wasn’t sure. He didn’t really know how big he was. The object also had something tied around it, a similar material he himself wore sometimes.
Was it a friend?
He scooted around the corner of the bed, and stopped at the middle where he could inspect it best. It was unmoving. Hunched forward. He could vaguely see that it had a face: the glossy, marble-like eyes and nose were just visible.
He tilted his head to see the face, though it didn’t help anything. He brought his hand to touch his own face. His nose. His eyes, which blinked when they came into contact. The eyes and nose on the object had similar placements to the ones he had. He wanted very much to touch it, turn it over to see the face, but he didn't dare disturb it; if it could be disturbed.
He lowered his hand from his face. His throat, unknowingly relaxed a moment ago, tightened some again, as he felt the urge to use his voice for the first time. He pressed his lips harder together, unsure if he should say anything, or bother the object. The item itself wasn’t doing anything; it didn’t speak to him. Should he try?
He felt more and more unsure of it. He didn’t know what the object would do. He didn’t even know any words himself. Besides the words “Professor,” “Don’t worry,” “Safe,” and “Maria,” he knew nothing, not even the meaning of those wounds.
Well…
There was another he heard a few times before. A sound, a word, those giants said when they first saw him. Maybe that word would be good.
Before he could stop himself, his lips parted and he took a breath.
“Hello.”
His fingers touched his throat, still not used to that buzzing sensation whenever he used his voice.
And the sound–he wasn't used to that either. Quiet. Croaky. He didn’t know if it was high or low, but in reference to other voices he heard from the giants, he thought he was around the middle. But also different somehow.
He smiled unconsciously at the rare sound of his own voice before remembering he wasn’t alone; the object he addressed was still there. His smile disappeared, but…
The object still wasn’t moving, or using its voice,
Furrowing his brows, he tentatively reached out to graze his fingers on the fuzz on the item. Still nothing from the object, but–
The fur… the fur was so so soft! He lowered his hand, feeling everything. His mouth hung slightly agape as he took in a light gasp. A flood of warmth rose up from within and spread to his fingers and toes. He didn't know why, but he loved this feeling.
Seeing that the object still wasn’t moving, he gently grabbed it around the back and brought it close to his face, under his nose; his other hand followed suit in crading it from behind.
Fully facing him now, he could see everything. Eyes. Mouth. Nose. Ears. Cloth. Tummy. All covered in fur, and completely still.
The child, still looking down at it, turned around and sat on the floor with his back against the bed frame, bringing his knees up to have the object rest on his lap, and after another moment, he licked his lips, and tried again.
“Hello.”
Again nothing.
If anything, he had an overwhelming urge to embrace it, squeeze it to his chest.
He ran his thumbs over the glassy eyes and nose gently, unsure if he should do just that. But his arms moved before he could do anything about it.
It was softer than he could ever imagine! His arms were wrapped around the back, as he pressed it closer to his chest. It wasn’t just the fur that was soft: it was soft on the inside, like the mattress, and he loved it. To embrace, and be embraced.
In this new world where he didn’t know what was right or wrong, this, he knew instantly, felt right.
He closed his eyes and buried his nose in the synthetic fur on the object’s head.
The warmth inside him continued to swim around his body. He couldn't keep a wide smile from stretching across his muzzle. Or his eyes to squint shut, or water at the edges. He couldn’t let up on the pressure he put on the soft object against himself. Perhaps it didn’t mind it.
He didn’t know what this new feeling inside him was. But whatever it was, he loved it, and didn’t want it to stop.
At this moment, all his fears were gone. He forgot about the door at the exit, or whether there was a giant standing outside it or not. The feeling of being so small in a new place where everything was so much bigger disappeared. The confusion. The anxiety. The unknown. Gone.
All that mattered was his new friend in his arms. The perfect size. Not big. Not scary anymore. He still didn’t know what it was. But having it close to him like that was enough to whisk all his fears away.
And there the child sat, finally finding a comfort in his new life. Blissfully unaware of all the complexities surrounding his very existence, as well as his past, present, and future. Unaware of the strength and power he possessed. Of the giant–the Professor–biting his nails and pulling his hair from worry. Of Maria, fast asleep with aid and labored breathing. Of the whole world below he’d be going to someday. Of the strange, mysterious beast who made the child’s life possible.
He knew none of these before. He knew none of these now, as he cradled his new friend. And he was perfectly content with never knowing any of these at all; as long as the warm feeling in his heart never went away.
* * *
It had been a long, long time since he held a stuffed animal. This stuffed animal to be specific
Knelt down before a dozen boxes filled with his belongings retrieved from the ARK, Shadow held the stuffed cat by the scruff of its neck. The color of its fur was the same. Brown. Gray. The belly was a lighter toned tan, as well as the paws, muzzle, and eyelids. The handkerchief too, was the same vibrant red. But there was something different about it than the day he first held it to his chest: The words “Maria” and “Sylvester” were embroidered along the right hem.
He smirked fondly at it. He remembered why those names were on it, especially “Maria.” He remembered that entertaining conversation he and the real Maria had about it. At one point soon after he got the toy, he named it “Maria” because he liked the way it sounded, not knowing that was actually the name of the Professor’s granddaughter. When she knew about it, she laughed and told him to pick another name. Back then, he didn’t understand what the problem was, and her reasoning didn’t make sense. “The cat is a boy, and ‘Maria’ is a girl’s name.” “There can’t be two Marias, there are so many other names.”
Well, he wouldn’t know any different. Boy? Girl? What other names were there?
He remembered later, the slender girl giggling with the needle and thread in her hand and stitching her own name to the cloth.
He would say, “It’s not your name, it’s the cat’s name.”
She’d wave off his silly remarks and corrections while he leaned over her and watched her handiwork in white thread.
Then when she was done, she stood up and bowed down at her waist theatrically, and handed him the cat, while saying “Why, I am quite flattered, Shadow.”
And here he was in his new home many years later, rubbing the embroidery with his thumb the same way he did when she presented it to him that day. He passed his finger over the other name and thought of the one day some time afterwards when he did end up changing the name to Sylvester, after the Loony Tunes cat, and asked Maria to stitch that name there too.
The craftsmanship was unspoiled. There were no signs of wear or tear. The stark white thread had faded to a light gray, but that was probably from all the times he would play with it.
Or maybe it was the decades of neglect, dust, and possible sun damage.
Shadow’s smile faded some. Fifty years. He still couldn’t fully comprehend it. Fifty years since he was forced from his home. Fifty years since he saw Maria.
Fifty years, Syl. It feels like yesterday.
He held the toy cat in one hand around its back and neck, remembering the time he needed both hands to hold it without dropping it. How small he was then. And how he felt holding it close to his chest that day.
His small smile returned unconsciously, and he automatically brought it to his chest again, just like he did long ago. He didn’t even have to think–it just happened. He lowered his nose to its head and inhaled. There was no scent, but it didn’t matter to him. That same giddy warmth flowed through his body just the same.
He stayed that way for a few minutes, mind going empty, and the world disappearing around him.
Safe. he felt safe.
It was exactly what he needed to find some comfort in his new reality. It was what he needed then to find comfort when he was first brought to existence.
Oh, how simpler times were then.
He pulled the cat away and looked it over again. He was surprised that he didn’t notice grabbing it from his room on the ARK–or wherever it was. He caressed the ear of the cat as he tried to recall the last several hours when he was in his old room. Perhaps he was grabbing a bunch of things at one time that he didn’t notice.
He wasn’t sure. The entire trip to the ARK was a blur. Nearly the whole time, he was dissociated from reality, as his arms, legs and voice went about as if he was on autopilot. His chest was still a little stiff, and his eyes still stung from the moisture when he looked out into space; and there were flashes of images from being in various rooms, especially the third observation room with the piano–so he knew as head knowledge that he was physically there.
Mentally, though, he was very far away. Maybe it was to save him the overwhelming emotional and mental turmoil, so his mind sent him away while his body remained. That may be why he missed seeing the cat.
Shadow furrowed his brow.
Wait, that’s not right…
Thinking back some more, he couldn’t recall ever seeing it in his room. Or anywhere, for a long time. In the last few years on the ARK, he didn’t remember having the toy in his possession, or even thinking about it.
It wasn’t in my room. Was it in Maria’s? No…
He slumped the cat in his hand on his lap, unfocussed as he tried remembering where he could’ve possibly gotten it from. Through the hazy recollections of his most recent visit to the ARK, he couldn’t think of anything. He kept staring at the cat’s face as if it could give an answer.
After a minute he gave up, thinking it didn’t matter and set it aside to rifle through the other contents in the box. It was getting into the early hours in the morning, so he’d have to find a stopping point and clean up. Standing up and stretching his knees and shoulders, he lazily fumbled around the other things, not thinking of looking for anything in particular, before deciding to go ahead and stack them all to the side and out of the way for the night. He’d go through them some other time.
He stood before the stacks of boxes he just lined up against the wall, and, to his surprise, yawned, his hand automatically coming in front of it. He was more tired than he thought, even though he knew he didn’t really need sleep. He checked his watch, the faint light illuminating his face. 1:17 a.m. And he had a meeting with the Commander of G.U.N. the next morning, which he wasn’t looking forward to. So he decided to leave the unpacking for another day and rest. Chaos knew he needed it.
He turned to leave for his room, but the cat he left on the floor stopped him. He immediately picked it up and placed it in one of the boxes, hiding it behind a stack of records on the bottom; he knew he wouldn’t hear the end of it from his roommate Rouge, if she ever found that he had a stuffed animal.
He replaced the records against the toy, and was stopped again by the front album cover. Though he was in the dark, he could clearly see the face of Al Bowelly on it. The stark contrasts made it almost glow and pop off the image.
Shadow smirked. The Professor’s collection, he thought, that’s right. I had that hedgehog get it for me. He flipped the album over, revealing the next one that Sonic got from the Professor’s collection. Another from Al Bowelly.
I'm curious, I wonder what took him so long. There was no way he got lost, the only other rooms down that hall before a long stretch of wall were the two storage closets and–
He froze, and his mouth went dry.
My old room.
He flipped the albums over again to look at the cat, laying innocently on its side, and that same little smile stitched on the muzzle that seemed to say “yeah, the blue hedgehog found me in your first room, you idiot.”
He scowled at the toy as his mind raced at that strong possibility of Sonic stumbling across his old room on accident on his way to the Professor’s music. But even then, there was no way that idiot would’ve messed that up. Fourth door on the lef–
Third. I said third.
Shadow ran his hand down his face and mentally kicked himself for his own stupidity. How the hell did he himself mess up directions around the ship?! He didn’t even want to think about what that hedgehog found in there right now, or whether or not he would bother him about his findings.
Goddammit, he probably would.
I knew it, I knew I should’ve just pushed that idiot off and left him here. I knew he was going to find something I didn’t want him to. Goddammit!
The disgruntled hedgehog gently pushed the albums back over the plush and turned to leave the living area, mentally preparing himself for the meeting in the morning and to avoid his blue counterpart if he ever showed himself. There wasn’t a doubt Sonic found himself in Shadow’s old room, looked around, and grabbed the toy cat. He didn’t remember what was even in there, but he knew it wasn’t empty–some things were left, as the cat showed.
He absent mindedly opened the door to his current room and went to his bed, laying his head on his pillow. He rubbed his eyes again, the sting of old tears and fatigue still plaguing them. His heart continued pounding from the anger toward the hedgehog and himself for that, as well as the swirl of emotions left over from being on the ARK. What a long day…
And a long day tomorrow…
He took a deep breath and set an alarm on his communicator around his wrist to wake him in a few hours. For an immortal being who didn’t need sleep, his body melted in the mattress; and despite the thoughts constantly swimming in his head, he was able to quiet them enough for him to go unconscious.
The pestering he could get from Sonic in the near future would be something he’d have to worry about some other time.