Chapter Text
Something was wrong, which didn't settle well with Shadow the Hedgehog, because he was meant to be the "Ultimate Life Form". Wrong wasn't coded into his DNA. But here he was, with fingers gripping porcelain for dear life as his consciousness spun once more. His stomach lurched and his face delved into the toilet bowl where the clear film of stomach acid heaved violently from his aching throat. So, yes, something was absolutely wrong because he wasn't supposed to get sick. He was literally created with the inability to contract illness with him being able combat illness, and yet here he was, having achieved the impossible. It took him everything in his power not to leave cracks or indentations in the toilet bowl, let alone shatter it into pieces!
"Oh, Shadow, not again…!" Ears perk up to the concerned tone of his wife. They pin back as he attempts to respond… only to retch up more of that stomach acid.
Shoulders tense up upon feeling gloved palms on them. There's a weight against his back and side as his wife hugs his body to hers. An emerald iris peers over one of his shoulders to get a peek of the contents he threw up and a gasp fills his ears. There was nothing but clearness, maybe hints of something that may have made contact with the water inside, but nothing else. "You have to see someone at G.U.N., Shadow! Clearly, you haven't been able to keep food (or drink) down, which is not good! I'm worried…!"
Dark eyelids clench in hopes of grounding himself so that damned nausea would cease. It barely does anything. The porcelain seat of the toilet feels cool against his temple. There's a pounding in his head, and his poor throat is in agony! He simply nods his head, which makes this weird squeaking sound as the side of his face rubs up against the seat. Whatever was wrong with him was utter hell, and if he ever bad mouthed or made fun of anyone else for being sick, oh how he took it all back…! A whimper is gritted behind clenched teeth when he feels that familiar lurching and throws his head back into the toilet bowl.
After excruciating seconds of hacking up nothing but stomach acid is he finally able to speak. He's thankful for the comforting rubs his pretty pink wife gives him in an attempt to quells his sickness. "Get a hold of Rouge. She'll know who to get in touch with." His tone is hoarse, and he's trying not to choke from the pain of talking.
Shadow needed to see someone and fast. Something was wrong and he didn't like it…