Chapter Text
Watching the vaults was known to be the job given to anyone of no prospect within G.U.N.: the sleepers on the job who knew too much to fire, those refusing to retire, and everyone too incompetent or annoying to be tolerated by the rest of the workforce. The highly dangerous nature of the job was lost on them, and most never bothered to question the lines they were fed about what they guarded. They guarded it every day, only a surprisingly diligent few writing reports of 'no activity - no change' into the systems.
They were unprepared for their first break-in, but one person managed to raise the alarm before they too were shot dead. G.U.N. didn't care to thank their family for the thousands of other agents they saved - all received the same payout and a vague letter of condolences.
The elite forces barely managed to chase the man in the mech out of the base before he could reach the vault's true treasure, and a state of lockdown was announced across the buildings.
Marshall A. Tower stood security over the emergency counsel, one of the many armed men who were sworn to secrecy.
"Not known to our enemies. Nobody has claimed the attack."
"We cannot possibly presume to take him at his word. There's no way to acquire that much firepower without someone backing him!"
The room chattered with general General agreement. Tower rolled his eyes but held his posture.
"He shouldn't know what he's even gunning for - a scare tactic, one we are giving in to with our state of alarm!"
"Nobody expends that much resource to secure something they don't know the use for."
Tower sniffed at that, and his superior fixed him with a snarling grin.
"Yes, Tower? Something funny?"
Tower stared him down. He was good at unsettling people; it both held him back and made him hard to deny within the structure of their for-profit military.
"He's a Robotnik. He wanted to, so he did. That research was always going to bring him; he's a fly to shit." Tower stated plainly. At the sound of the name, the room hushed, but his superior kept his cool.
"A great myth they have created around them, of course. They have no records, no funds, no means after their dishonour. The family weren't even told of Gerald's research."
"He's his grandfather's son, he'll have found out. He never needed our intel or any funds. He never needed you."
The room was prickly with bolstering testosterone as everybody cast their eyes on one or the other, voting for confidence between them. Tower was winning, and he knew it: everyone knew he witnessed the ARK massacre. Rumour had it that even as a child he picked up a gun and turned it on his playmate when the soldiers came. Nobody liked to doubt a man who would do that, or could bear that reputation without complaint.
"You seem to have your sources, Tower. What say you, then? What's the best course of action?" The commander interjected, and Tower' superior officer slunk back in his seat, seething.
"If it were my place to say, sir?"
"Correct. If it were."
"Destroy it. The security of the containment has been compromised. You cannot risk Project Shadow awakening, or falling into the hands of a Robotnik."
"You mean 'and'?"
"No. 'Or'. I have seen what that thing is capable of. It has no place in human warfare." Tower took a deep breath to control himself, and kept his eyes fixed over the heads of his seniors, who sat while he stood at arms guarding them. The commander-in-chief was unreadable, just tired.
"No. Certainly not. Thank you for your insight."
Tower left the board room fearful for his future, but grimly proud too. If it cost him his job, sent him into hiding, and stripped him of all honours, it would still be worth it to see Shadow the Hedgehog never put to use. It was kind of them to leave him thinking that comfortable thought in the end, as he was stone dead before he left the facility, thanks to a bullet lodged in the base of his skull. The floors in G.U.N. were lino, the walls whitewash gloss paint, and his blood rinsed easily from the company memory. His family received generic condolences.
With the witnessing Marshalls and Junior Generals taken care of, the adjourned board room reconvened behind a metre of tempered glass. The Commander in Chief suited himself up in riot gear and a gas mask, against the wishes of the room around.
"We'd all put our life on the line for the security of the public, as many of our agents have gladly done today. I am the same. There is no discussion." He declared proudly, scanning every face to determine they were suitably impressed.
So he left the viewing chamber, and descended to the pit to view the capsule.
Gerald's research was still in its transport chamber from when they took it from his cell. He unbolted the door and it fell off its hinges easily, finally released from its mission and free to rust, because the room was damp, dank and foul:
The synthetic amniotic fluid in the framed tube was cycled by a pump that couldn't be changed by anyone but the most careful and sworn-in bio-engineers, the last of whom had retired into silent solitude in the '70s. So, it had leaked and belched its contents consistently for twenty years, and although it was a fluid too toxic for most bacteria, it still fermented with what little would survive in it, and filled the air with the putrid smell of vinegar and digested plastic. The creature sleeping in the chamber did not care. It also hadn't noticed the large crack on its encasement that Robotnik's mystical bombs had landed. They had wondered if it could sleep forever, but they would never know now.
It was smaller than it had been in the first photos, likely shrinking due to its state of partial starvation: which would be rectified quickly, if they chose to enrich it. The Commander whispered a prayer, then entered a complex code on the stiff buttons, and the sickly sound of a plunger started the draining.
More viscous liquid gushed from the leaks when the pressure broke and fat bubbles burst at the top of the chamber where the creature's ears were revealed. The Commander stepped away from a spurting spray, sneering at the stench. An ancient fan chunked into life, and blew hot air over the creature revealing shivering spines away from their sticky mass. As the pipe gurgled and tried to suck the layer of sludge and sediment from its clawed feet, the creature fluttered its eyes open, blinking away forty years of slumber.
Nobody in the gallery breathed, too prepared for the horror they were sure they would witness. The Commander didn't breathe, his hand on a taser in his pocket. The creature didn't breathe: it didn't need to. It roved its eyes in the dinge, taking in its surroundings unblinkingly, and settled them on the Commander. It was now or never.
"Shadow? Is that really you? Oh, at last!" The commander professed in a great and shaky show of joy, and threw his arms around the creature. The room of onlookers winced as a squelch sounded over the microphone on contact with it. It stayed stiff, but at under two feet tall, it was lifted easily.
"God above, it's all been worth it! You're okay, you're okay - how do you feel?" He murmured. Shadow frowned at him, but its face hadn't moved significantly yet, and it said nothing.
But the commander was alive, and the doubters were forever silenced. They watched in awe as he placed the tiny thing down, and held it by the hand, taking it to the decontamination chamber.
Shadow learned so much that day: he learned he had been very sick, for a long time, and this man had developed a cure after much trial. He learned he was special to these people, and that they kept him safe from the cruel hands of those who would use him if they had the chance. He learned this was a resistance military, fighting for those oppressed around the world, and they would take care of him while he 'recovered'.
But, he considered, as he lay on a bed, his insides uncomfortable from being plied with strange mush and liquid for his 'healing' - he also had memories. He remembered like his mind was a stone tablet, with carved truths that only grew deeper the more lies tried to wash them clean: Shadow did not get sick - he was a cure. Shadow was a name given to him by his sister. She and everyone else he cared for were dead now. He remembered the name G.U.N.. He remembered the eclipse cannon. But he knew nothing of where he was, or how to get there, so he remained silent, and let them fawn around him, as though his mind like his body had shrank to become malleable again. And partly he had - he could feel the corners of his mind weren't stretching like they should, but the power was there - just limited by his depletion. His promise to Maria pressed on his head like a crown of thorns, but he would wait.