I slide through the crowd, hood up, keeping my breathing shallow and quiet; all around me, people bustle about, and I move with the crowd's current. An anxious feeling sours my stomach, but I choke down my nervousness, forcing myself to focus only on my goal. Everyone here has a metro card. And each one is going to have to use it. I just need to find someone who has it in their hands, or whose pockets are loose enough... We draw nearer to the turnstiles, and I notice the person in front of me shuffling awkwardly to grab at their wallet. Slinking behind them, I wait until they have the card in their hands and are sliding their wallet back into their pocket. You idiot, why would you put your wallet away if you're just going to have to get it back out in ten seconds to put your card away? I mentally berate them as I snag the card out of their hands, quickly turning and vanishing into the torrent of humans again. Moreover, why would you keep something so precious balanced so precariously between two fingers? Slipping the card into my hoodie pocket, I glare out at the groups, eyes glinting; scanning the masses, I spot an inattentive human on the other side of the gates, their back pressed up against a grate as they chatter aimlessly on their cell phone. Sneaking up behind them, I feign reclining on the gate as well, slowly creeping my hand towards the card in their hand sticking through the holes in the grate.

"So, that's the plan, huh?" The human chirps into her cellphone. Static noises issue from the phone and my ears flick, unable to decipher what's being said. My claws wrap around the card as the woman starts talking again. "Yeah, I've been tracking it, I know. Suuuuper important and all that. But you know you can trust me, right?" Sliding the card slowly from between her fingers, I ease my hand away, keeping a close eye on her. Luckily, she isn't paying any attention to me; the moment the slide of plastic is fully in my hands, I whirl around and rush back into the crowd, blending in with the arriving group to dash back to Scourge. I feel bad for leaving him so suddenly, but hopefully the fact that I now have two metro cards in my hands will make up for it.

Searching the crowd, I desperately try to find my bright green friend in the sea of multicolored coats and blurring figures. He'll be standing still, hopefully, and he always sticks out like a sore thumb when he isn't lurking in an alleyways or kicking over trashcans; therefore, I'll be able to see him easily.

Right?

------------------

Sighing, Scourge taps his foot on the ground, arms crossed, looking anxiously at the throng of people around him. Every now and then someone knocks into him, but for the most part people move easily around him. Where did Shadow go? Is he gonna come back? He wouldn't ditch me... Would he? Frowning, the emerald hedgehog starts sweating nervously. He's so weird, anyways--his moods change so erratically, and half the time he has that same scowl on his face. Something about him changed over those two years--he's more unstable now. A little more likely to act out. And what the hell happened to him back in that store? It was like he wasn't seeing anything in front of him, just paralyzed, for whatever reason. Scratching his neck, he cranes his head up to look at the ceiling. It's plain tiles, pretty standard for a station like this, and curved; or at least, he assumes the entirety of it is tiled, since the humans towering above the short green hedgehog make it difficult to really see anything.

"Hey, there!" A long-anticipated voice chirps in Scourge's ear, causing him to whirl around. Shadow stood in a slightly stiff-looking stance to his right, looking uncharacteristically cheerful. His hands were in his hoodie's pocket, and his hood was still drawn up around his head.

"Sh-Shadz?" Scourge raised an eyebrow, slightly alarmed. It's just like I said, he's behaving so erratically! "Where were you?"

"Sorry for ditching you like that!" Shadow steps a bit closer as a human veers off to their left, ignoring the two, and stepping right where Shadow had been. Baffled, the green hedgehog stares. How did he react to that so easily? "It would've been a little bit difficult to do this without being alone, though, you know?" Grinning, Shadow suddenly pulls his hand out of his pocket and poses, leaning back a little bit, two metro cards between his fingers. Scourge gasps, and Shadow makes a peculiar chuckling noise, almost like a giggle--that can't be right, he doesn't even ever actually laugh, let alone giggle--closing his eyes and tipping his head to one side slightly.

"H-How did you--?!" Scourge takes one, staring at it like it's made of gold.

"It was easy," The ebony-and-crimson hedgehog replies in an almost gleeful tone. "These people are so stupid and inattentive. It didn't take much for me to just slip my hands into their pockets and yank the cards out! I even took one right out of a girl's hand!" By the end of his explanation, he was almost singing; his lime-green friend stares at him, wide-eyed. What's up with this new behavior? What the hell?

"That's, er, great, Stripes..." He replies carefully, eying his friend with concern.

Shadow opens his eyes fully, blinking at his grass-furred friend, and the two lock eyes for a moment before the disturbing grin melts off Shadow's face and he relaxes back into his usual stony-faced self. "Well, now that we have those cards, we can go through the gate with no issue, right?" His voice, too, is back to its average pace and volume.

"Yeah," the lime hedgehog replies, starting to walk forward. "Let's go." Nodding, his dark-furred friend follows, seeming to be normal again; however, Scourge can't shake the feeling that something isn't right.

------------------

Why did I have to act like that? Mentally cursing myself, I jam my hands in my pockets, looking down at the ground. I couldn't make sense of it--it had felt like someone else was doing everything for me, and I was just watching from inside myself. What if that's what happened? Terror spears through me as I think back to what the monster in my nightmare told me. 'I'm gonna devour you from the inside out,' its words echo in my ears, 'until I'm the only thing left!' Shuddering, I draw my arms close to myself. The metal bench is cold, unforgiving and uncomfortable. Scourge, beside me, sits in a relaxed position, though I know he's feeling tense. He'd subconsciously put a space between us, situating himself further from me than usual; I can't say as how I blame him. If he started acting uncharacteristically odd, I'd probably be a little scared too. Sighing, I look up, crossing my legs. Sometimes it feels like there's two different people in my head, arguing all the time. Closing my eyes, I lower my head. If I concentrate, I can hear what they're saying, but I can only ever concentrate on one side at a time...

A sudden noise drags me from my head, and I open my eyes. It's a slight clinking noise, metal scraping on metal; looking over at Scourge, I see a lighter in his hand. He pulls a small box out of his jacket that I haven't seen before, pulling a white stick out of the box and setting one end on fire. A sudden stench hits my nostrils, and I wrinkle my nose in disgust. "Didn't know you smoked," I comment, trying to hide my distaste.

"Thought I'd pick it up," he replies, lifting it. "Looks cool. And since it's fire, it'll warm me up." He sticks it in his mouth, looking over at me with a challenging glint in his eyes. "What're you gonna do 'bout it, Stripes?"

I raise an eyebrow at him. The smoke is filling his lungs, despite the fact that I can tell he's deliberately breathing only through his nose. So, he wants to look cool, but he's smart enough--or maybe not strong enough--to actually commit. "I'm going to laugh when you start coughing and choking...Nothing's as cool as hacking and wheezing while you're blackening your lungs." My voice drips with sarcasm on the last sentence.

"I'm not gonna--" Scourge starts indignantly, but he gags suddenly and doubles over, taking the cigarette out of his mouth to cough. For a decent few minutes, he makes awful choking noises, waving his hand in the air--a futile attempt to clear it.

"Keh," I chuckle, shaking my head with a smirk. "Told you so..."

"Shut it, Stripes!" He chokes out, and I whack him on back a few times to try and help clear his system. Eventually, he quits wheezing, blinking tears out of his eyes. "Ugh, damn," he rasps, "that was awful. I don't think even you'd be able to stand it."

My ears flick. "Oh, really?" I snort. "I can withstand anything. Though I must say, it seems odd to me that people take up killing their lungs recreationally. So I'm really not going to try it." Looking over to my left, I inspect someone who I think is staring at us; the moment I look at them, however, they abruptly turn away.

My punk friend gives me a bemused look. "Sounds like a haughty cop-out to me." He comments, leaning back and sneering at me.

Affronted, I whirl around to glare, abandoning the suspicious human. For a moment, we lock eyes, with him still leering at me, and my hackles rise as I narrow my eyes. "What was that?"

"You're just not strong enough to handle the strength of the smoke," he replies in a simple tone, shrugging, with a patronizing faux-sympathetic look on his face. "You don't wanna admit that you're a wuss, so you're just pullin' a bunch of holier-than-thou BS outta your--"

Before he can finish his thought, I interrupt with a snarl. "Gimme one of those." He grins devilishly, tossing me the box; I catch it easily, pulling one out. " 'Not strong enough,' my ass," I snarl as he offers me the lighter in exchange for the box, that stupid smile still plastered to his face. "And wipe that smarmy grin off your face already." Flicking the little metal fire-starter, I tried to get a flame out of it; after a few minutes, the spark is stable enough, and I put the white end of the cigarette to the fire. It caught light rather easily, and I snapped the lighter closed with my finger, handing it back to Scourge, who was watching me eagerly. Feeling a bit put-off by his gaze, I dawdle, watching the flame dance and flicker at the end of my stick of carcinogens.

"Are you gonna just watch it burn down, or are ya gonna actually prove you're not a wuss?" The arrogant green hedgehog jibes, crossing his arms.

"You know you're every bit as annoying as your brother, right?" I shoot back, putting the cigarette in my mouth. Ugh, it tastes disgusting--paper and chemicals. The smoke floating from the end of it clouds my eyes, causing them to water, and I blink a few times.

"You're probably not strong enough to take even the same half-puff I took," he leers, noticing my eyes' reaction. "You're already tearin' up, hah!" Flicking his own cigarette away, he laughs at me.

"Stow it," I snap. "I'm perfectly fine." To emphasize my point, I sit up and take a deep and audible breath through the cigarette in my mouth, causing Scourge to flinch in surprise. The first second I start to breathe in, I know I've made a horrible mistake; I gag as my throat closes, burning, and my lungs start itching horribly. My eyes go wide when I realize I can't force the air in or out of my lungs at a normal pace, and my fur spikes. A cough racks my body, and I immediately take the horrible thing out of my mouth, turning my head to the left, covering my face with one arm, embarrassed.

Choking, I try to suppress the reaction, but to no avail--Scourge, concerned, leans over to look at me. "Hey, you okay?" I open my mouth to say something, but all I can do is cough. "Jesus, dude," the green hedgehog laughs, "you shouldn't've taken such a huge breath'a it."

He thumps me on the back a few times, and eventually I straighten up a little, wheezing. "Well," I choke out, still hacking a bit, "you were--" pausing to try and compose myself, I cough a few more times, then continue, "right about it warming you up." My eyes burn and I rub at them with my sleeve. "My throat feels like it's on fire." Taking a deep, rattling gasp, I stare at the still-burning cigarette in my hand. How can something that small be so deadly?

Scourge chuckles, nudging me gently. "Well, Stripes, ya proved me wrong." I look over at him, and he's smirking at me. "You's tougher than I thought." Sitting up fully, I return his expression, my breathing back to normal now. After a short pause, he shakes his head, laughing. Confused, I drop my smile and stare at him, one ear flattened to the side of my head, the other perked up. "You're just full of surprises, aren't ya?"

The smirk returns to my face, and I turn away, slouching a bit with my elbows propped up on my knees. "Everyone has their secrets," I reply, "and often those secrets turn into surprises." Looking down at my feet, I turn the smoking cigarette over and over between my fingers. "You're pretty full of surprises yourself."

"Yeah, right," he laughs, reclining again. "I ain't got no secrets ya dunno."

I glance over at the clock nearby, noting the time. 9:15. "That's probably not true," I reply evenly, "because how am I to know just how much I don't know about you?" Confusion radiates from my friend as he glances at me. "You're not as much of an open book as you pretend to be."

"Whaddaya mean?" The emerald hedgehog asks nervously; his query is met with silence.

Staring at the cigarette, I think about all that I've seen and heard of Scourge, and what we've been through so far. There's a nagging question at the back of my mind, but I don't know if I really want to ask it. It isn't that big of a deal, I tell myself, but at the same time, maybe it is. I don't know enough about his past other than what he told me, that day in the break room; I have no idea what he's really been through, but I know that his toughness is just a front. Taking a silent breath to steady myself, I sit back up, leaning against the bench. "Scourge, can I ask you something?" Glancing back at the clock again, I blink as I realize it's now 9:20. Time flies when you're lost in your thoughts, I suppose.

"Yeah, what?" He replies brazenly, inspecting his gloves with a bored air.

"You don't have to answer if you don't want to," I begin, and he sighs, interrupting me.

"Out with it, Stripes. We ain't got all night." Growling, he shifts position, lifting his right foot on top of his left, staring off to the right. Impatience prompts him to start bouncing his leg obnoxiously.

I glare at him out of the corner of my eye. Definitely as annoying as Sonic. "Fine, then...Why do you fake that ridiculous accent?" Getting right to the point, I turn my head to look at him, a neutral expression on my face.

He tenses up, his hackles rising; he had been looking away from me, staring off into space, perfectly calm, but he freezes for a few minutes. The perfect way to describe his reaction would be 'busted.' I can tell that he's trying to think of something to say, but the panicking is clouding his mind. "Wh-What do you mean?" He stutters, turning to face me with a false, anxious grin.

I smirk, and he starts sweating bullets. "Don't play dumb," I reply coolly, "I noticed you dropped the accent a while ago, probably unintentionally--but that wasn't the first time I heard you speak without it." Uncrossing my legs and then re-crossing them with the other leg on top, I flatten my hands to the bench, dangling my fingers over the edge. Truthfully, I'm nervous to be confronting him about this, but my curiosity outweighs my worry. "The day I almost died--well, the first time I almost died, the time where you helped me out--you spoke without that accent. I'm guessing you were so freaked-out you forgot about it." Beside me, Scourge looks a little pale, but I can't just stop now, so I barrel on. "And after the incident with the crowd at that store, when we were in the alley--you dropped it then, too. Why do you even bother with it in the first place?" Tipping my head to one side with my gaze still fixed on him, I curl my fingers around the edge of the bench, nervously waiting for his response.

He stares at me for a moment, his sky-blue eyes flashing with an inner turmoil. Sighing, he closes them, leaning back into the bench; alarm flares through me as I pick up a sense of defeat from his movements. "I was hoping you wouldn't notice, but I guess I gotta explain it now," he answers in a normal voice, and my breath catches in my throat with suspense. "I told you when I was younger I took to the streets. Sonic and I both did, actually. Don't ask why!" He suddenly interrupts himself, sitting up, hackles raised, glaring at me, and I flinch. Relaxing, he looks away, his fur flattening. "But we had different ways of going about things," he continues. "He'd go and beg for stuff if he needed it, and he always went around making friends with everyone. It was just his personality, I guess. He has that natural magnetism to him, you know? I never understood it. I was too proud to ask for help, and I..." He trails off for a moment. "Most people thought I was just mean. Maybe it was the sharp teeth, maybe it was the arrogance, but nobody liked me. Some people hung out with me when my brother was gone, but they left when he came back." Kicking the ground with one foot, he sighs. "Everyone was always leaving. And everyone was always saying I was mean and rude and awful and--and--" he stops, blinking rapidly, and I realize he's trying not to start crying.

"Scourge, I--" I start, reaching out to him gingerly.

"Lemme finish," he shoves my hand away, but not roughly. "I think I need to get this off my chest for once." Breathing deeply, his breath fogging the air, he continues. "Anyways...I chose to use the reputation people decided for me to my advantage. Started hanging out with people who appreciated 'mean' and 'cruel,' started doing whatever I could to get what I wanted. Shoving people around made me feel a bit better, a bit more in control. It wasn't right, but I didn't care. I was just so damn desperate to make an identity for myself that didn't revolve around my brother for once, but even then once I started acting out people had the nerve to call me 'Evil Sonic.' Like, really?!" He laughs. "I freakin' hate people sometimes. But, I digress; I took on the accent as a way to blend in better with the uneducated gangs and criminals I met when I was younger. After a while, people started to be able to identify me from him by it, so I stuck with it. And besides," a sudden evil grin spreads across his face, and his eyes glitter as he looks at me, "people think I'm dumber for it. Do you know how many people I've two-timed, swindled, and robbed blind because they thought they were smarter than me?" He laughs, his sharp teeth glittering in the fluorescent lights. "So, yeah, my life sucked but it's shaped who I am--there's not much I'd change about it. And there's nothing better to me than getting back at people who think I'm an idiot. I'm no fool, not like Sonic. He trusts way too openly and blindly."

I raise an eyebrow. "Sonic, trusting people blindly?" A snort escapes me as I shake my head. "He's never trusted me, not even when I've offered to help him. It's always fight first, ask questions later."

"Ehh, that's just with you, though, and I don't blame him." Scourge stands up, stretching. "You're annoying as hell, always askin' questions all the time."

"Hey!" I protest, hopping to my feet to punch him in the arm. He laughs, dodging me, and hopping backwards, a challenging gleam in his eyes. "Get back here!" I yelp, bounding after him as he jogs down the station's waiting area. The train pulls up, interrupting us, and he skids to a stop. The doors open with a whoosh, and dozens of people file out. "Damn, right as I was about to catch you," I quip, stepping up beside him.

"You sure you're gonna be alright in this crowd?" He teases, smirking at me.

"Ah, shaddup," I snort as we step into the rather empty car, "there's not a lot of people here, and they're quiet anyways." We sit down on the cheap-looking plastic chairs, taking seats right next to each other. The interior is a dull off-white, with ads and other banners plastered to the walls. The seats are made of plastic, with two cushions sticking out of them--one to sit on, one to lean on. There's no windows, because this one only runs underground, and it's lit by those same flickery fluorescent lights. A few more people file in behind us, taking various seats away from each other. I smirk. Everyone's trying to isolate themselves from other people. I guess even people who love big cities like this prefer sitting by themselves.

Scourge yawns suddenly, drawing my attention. His teeth really are pretty fearsome, I think with a cringe, especially this close. Rubbing his eyes, he leans back, propping himself up in the corner, and I notice how tired he looks. "Hey, how long will this ride be?" He asks me quietly, trying to keep it down and not draw attention to us.

"We're getting off at the last stop," I reply, struggling not to yawn too. We've had a pretty big day, all things considered, and it'd be a good idea to camp out in this next area. "It might be around forty-five minutes or so; if you wanna get some sleep, it wouldn't be a bad idea."

"What if we miss our stop?" He blinks at me, confused and sitting up slightly.

"I'll stay awake to make sure that doesn't happen," I assure him with a small half-smile.

"No way, Stripes," he argues, leaning forward, propping his weight up with his left arm planted by my side. "You're as tired as I am, if not more so. Seriously, you look exhausted. There's no way you're gonna be able to pull another all-nighter."

Suppressing a sigh, I rebut, "Relax, Scourge, I've stayed up for a week straight before with few consequences. I can handle another 45 minutes--I've only been awake for 30 hours." Crossing my legs, I scoot forward to sit on the very edge of the seat so that I'm not tempted to lean back and sleep. "Seriously, just go to sleep. We can find a place to crash in the south side of this city once we get off at our stop."

"But, Shadz," my green friend protests, but I shake my head and he stops, sagging a bit. "Ugh, fine, whatever." He settles back into the corner, folding his arms behind his head. "But if you do fall asleep, I'm gonna laugh at you." Lifting his right foot, he balances its corresponding leg on his left calf, closing his eyes.

"Hmph," I reply, flicking my ear.