A few hours later, Scourge prances through the Hedgehog's Outerwear section, gleefully chattering on about something while he checks out their leather jackets, trying to find an adequate replacement for his tattered coat. I only half-listen to him, knowing that he's mostly prattling on simply because he's used to being alone. A smirk dances across my face as I watch him try on a jacket that's clearly too large for him, flailing his arms so that the sleeves flop about. I haven't seen him act like this before--he's hopping about like a little kid in a candy store. "I don't think that one fits, buddy," I call as I walk calmly over to him.

"No shit, Sherlock," he quips, shrugging it off again and lazily slapping it on the hanger, trying to jam it back on the rack.

"Here, allow me," I say, hiding my exasperation, taking it from his hand and properly placing the coat on its hanger, then slipping it easily right back where he found it. "Honestly, do you not know how to hang something up?" I sigh. "I've never even owned a jacket and I know this."

He shrugs carelessly. "Whatever, bro. It's not like anyone's gonna fuss over tha leather jackets not being put back perfectly." Rifling through the clothes, he bites his lip, looking for his size, he snorts. "I'm sure you're the only person who actually cares whether or not they're all in their proper place."

"Organization is important," I argue, "and for all you know some poor underpaid employee is the one who has to sort all this crap. I'd rather not make their day any rougher than it has to be." Dusting my hands off, I scowl at him as he blatantly ignores me, shoving jackets here and there. Irritated, my ears twitch and I curl my lip slightly. "Hey! Were you even listening to me?"

"Huh?" Scourge leans back to peer around the jackets at me. "Sorry, I was too busy not caring." He quips, picking up a jacket with flames streaking the sleeves.

I groan in exasperation, face-palming. "Gah, forget it." Crossing my arms, I lean back on my right leg, watching as he shrugs the leather biker jacket on gleefully, with a massive grin. I can't stay annoyed at him forever, though, especially not with how adorably excited he is, and a small smile, echoing his, sneaks onto my face. Honestly, who would have thought that the toughest hedgehog on the streets would act like this simply because of a coat display?

"Look, Stripes, this one fits! And it's almost identical to my last one!" The emerald hedgehog cheers, looking at himself in a nearby mirror. He gently flicks his sunglasses and they fall off his forehead, landing on his nose perfectly to cover his eyes. He growls playfully, posing in a 'tough' manner, crossing his arms and baring his teeth in a faux snarl. I stifle a laugh as he switches through several different ridiculous postures, wondering whether or not he knows how silly he looks. "Do I look great or what?"

"Your poses are dumb as hell," I reply, walking over to look in the mirror with him, "but the jacket suits you well." I try not to focus on my own reflection, knowing that I won't like what I see, but my eyes still drift over to it--I can't help but look. My fur is ragged, dirty and tousled, my jacket torn slightly, splotched with filth. The newly-pierced ear has oozed blood down my face, dried into my matted hair. My heart sinks slightly; I look positively disgusting. My eyes have darkness beneath them, the skin purplish with exhaustion, and the fingers of my gloves are starting to tear, soiled with dirt and blood. I should get new ones, honestly--these will just raise suspicion. Stuffing my hands back in my pocket, I look over at Scourge's reflection as he strikes another pose.

"I dunno what you're talkin' bout, Stripes." He blows a kiss at his reflection, and I snort in an attempt to not laugh my ass off. "I look hot no matter what."

"Suuuuure you do," I reply with false sarcasm, rolling my eyes, walking past him. I don't particularly want to admit it, given how large his ego is, but he isn't entirely wrong. Clearing my throat, I change the subject, glancing over my shoulder at him, "If you're done messing around here, we should get going--it was already midday when we got here, and we've killed a decent amount of time. We should see if we can't find a clock."

"Gimme a moment," the malachite hedgehog answers, rummaging about in his old jacket. He pulls out a peculiar tool, shrugging his current jacket off slightly, and he clasps the tool around a peculiar disk-shaped device glued to the jacket. Within a few seconds, the plastic thing stuck to his jacket falls to the floor, and he grins triumphantly, pulling the coat back on. "There we go, just lemme clean out my old one's pockets." He shakes out the tattered jacket, and some snacks and such fall out--he didn't have much space in it to store food, so I was carrying most of our items in my sleeves. "Check it out, this new one's got inside pockets!" He cheers, stuffing everything he could into said inner pockets.

"Nice," I reply absentmindedly, looking around at everything around us. For a convenience store, this place is pretty dead, I realize. My eyes narrow. Unusual... Why wouldn't this place be crowded with people?

"Hey, yo," Scourge snaps his fingers in front of my face, "Earth to Stripes, helllloooooo?"

"Hmh?" I blink, shifting my attention back to him. "What?"

"Did you hear a word of what I just said?" Annoyed, my green friend glares at me, slumped a bit, his left ear horizontal while the other perks up straight, the very picture of 'Not Amused.'

"Sorry," I smirk, quoting him. "I was too busy not caring."

His ears flatten and he scowls, growling quietly behind his words. "Touché, Stripes, touché. What I said was: I think I saw a jewelry department with a row of watches in it on the way here. We can check the time there."

"Good thinking," I reply, lifting my head slightly to look at the ceiling. "Do you know the way there, from here?"

"Yep," he grabs my arm and whirls around, taking off at a slow (for him) jogging pace, yanking me along. "C'mon, hurry up."

"Must you always drag me about like this?" I ask with a sigh, scrambling to pull my arm out of his grasp. "For the last time, I can move just as fast as you, you idiot." Embarrassed by the fact that he kept doing this over and over again no matter how many times I tell him to cut it out, I growl irritably.

"You don't react fast enough," he protests, giving me a frustrated look. "Or at least, you haven't been reacting quickly as of late." His annoyance changes to concern, thinly veiled underneath nonchalance. "Maybe we should rest a bit while we're here."

I snort angrily. "I'm fine," I snarl, averting my gaze. Truthfully, I am exhausted, but sleep never helps. I always wake up more worn-out and terrified than when I fell asleep, and there's no way I'll ever feel anything more than this perpetual grey fog of sleepiness. But I don't dare tell anyone about that, lest I seem weak--the last thing I need is someone's pity. Especially not from him, of all people. I grit my teeth and force myself to clear my mind. Shut up, shut up, shut up--Don't think about any of it!

"If you say so," he grumbles, shrugging off his worry. "Anyways, the watches and crap are up here on the left." His pace slows to a walk, and I follow suit, looking around. I'd been so busy trying to ignore my own thoughts that I didn't realize how far we'd gone from the jackets section.

"Good," I muse to myself, glancing around. My emerald friend leans over the watch display--a glass case separates the jewelry from the rest of the world, and a few of the watches appear to be functioning. I survey them myself, stepping up beside him, and note that most of the functioning ones are all tuned to the same general time, half past five.

Scourge points to a digital watch bearing the time in plain, easy-to-read numbers. "5:31," he reads, then looks over at me. "So, we've got some time before dark, but nothing to do." Boredom bleeds into his expression as he sighs, leaning back from the counter, hooking his fingers underneath the small metal band holding the lights to keep himself from falling over backwards. He fails to notice the fact that the lights are directly exposed right beneath his fingers; dizziness washes over me suddenly, and in a flash, I see him burning his fingers, instinctively letting go and falling over with a yelp, thumping his head on the ground painfully.

"Careful," I suddenly grab his hands and tug him upward, much to his surprise. "The lights aren't insulated--you're gonna burn your fingers off."

He pulls his hands out of my grasp, looking peeved and stepping back. "What?" He leans down and looks up at the lights; his eyes widen, and he looks down at his partially-scorched gloves, then back up at me in amazement. "How did you know that?"

I shrug. "I notice things," I answer evasively, confused. What was that--that vision? Did I just see the future, somehow? No, that can't be possible. That's...That can't happen. "Anyhow," sighing, I rub my eyes to brush the thought off, feeling oddly tired, "you're right that we have time to kill, yet nothing to do in order to kill time. What should we do?"

"Welllllll," a grin flashes across his face as he stands up, "over there's a furniture section." He points across the counter, and I open my eyes to track his movement with my gaze, raising an eyebrow. "Looks like they got beds on display..." He wiggles his eyebrows at me and I suppress an annoyed glare. "I ain't slept on an actual mattress in a while."

"Me neither," I reply, and my back twinges as if reminding me of how terrible my recent sleeping positions have been. "We might as well try them out while we're here, I guess," feigning reluctance, I shrug as if the idea of having something comfortable to sleep on doesn't matter to me; I know that if I let myself act on how I feel, I'll be the one acting like a small child in a candy store.

Unfortunately, Scourge sees right through my act. "But only if I want to, right, Stripes?" He snorts mockingly. "You really oughta lighten up." Pushing past me, he trots over to the furniture section, and I cringe inwardly. Guess I don't have a career in acting ahead of me. "There's nothin' wrong with feelings, yaknow," he continues to lecture me as I walk to catch up with him, but he stops suddenly and turns to face me, an odd expression on his face.

"Keh, what's up with you?" I growl, my hands in my pockets.

"U-Uh, nothing, I just--" he turns away, plastering a fake grin on his face. "Let's just mess around with this crap, huh?"

"You're a worse actor than I am," I snort, hopping onto the nearest bed--I'm absolutely not picky about which bed I sleep in, I just want to sleep somewhere else than the ground. "Something's bugging you, so you might as well tell me." Flopping back, I stifle a relieved sigh. The mattress was heavenly soft and comfortable; I sink into it, relaxing easily. My stomach growls slightly, so I reach into my sleeve and fish around, looking for something to eat.

"Well, I mean," the malachite hedgehog begins uncomfortably, rubbing the back of his head awkwardly as he hops up onto a bed to the right of the one I chose. "You spent all those years thinkin' you were a robot, right? With that mechanical thingy Robotnik used to, what, suppress your emotions or whatever?"

"Yes..." I answer warily as I open a package of crackers, uncertain as to where he was going with this. I flick my gaze over to him; he's looking down at his gloves, twiddling his fingers nervously.

"Well, what if because of that you dunno how to express ya'self?" He tips his head to one side, blinking at me. I freeze with a cracker in my mouth, half-chewed, surprised; I mull the idea over, thinking rapidly. It makes sense, but what does that mean for me in the long run? I know the suit was meant to keep me complacent, suppressed, controllable, but now that I'm out of it, what does that mean for me? Will I ever be normal? Terror spears through me and my stomach flops as I swallow hard, the cracker scraping my throat on the way down. What if I never regain my emotions? I don't remember what life was like before it--I don't even know how long it was on me. What if I never go back to the way I was born? Who, really, am I? Am I still the machine Robotnik made me, or am I my own person?

Shaking myself off, I snarl, "How does that matter?" Scourge flinches, looking shocked at the venom in my voice. "Why should I care about 'expressing myself'?" Turning away from him, I jam the package into my pocket, no longer hungry, rolling onto my side so that my back is the only thing he can see, letting my arms flop in front of me. "That doesn't matter. I don't care for other people anyways." Closing my eyes, I hiss, "And if you prefer your limbs to stay where they are, you won't say things like that ever again." My fur bristles, with my spines flashing their sharp tips.

Alarm flashes through him, and I hear him fumble to scramble backwards. "O-Okay, Stripes, okay!" He yelps, shivering as he imagines the pain of me ripping his arms off. I don't know if I really would hurt him, but right now I want to. I want to hurt something, or someone, I don't care, I just need to release my anger somehow. My fingers curl around the sheets, clenching to the point where my hands start to tremble with the tension in my muscles. My claws rip the fabric, and the soft sound snaps me back into reality. Why am I so angry? It's not Scourge's fault. He's just worried about me, and neither of us know what's going on. He only wants to help, I can tell, but he can't understand that I don't need or want help with this. It's something I have to figure out on my own, and nothing he says or does will do anything but get in the way.

After a long pause, I feel myself begin to calm down, and I sigh. "Sorry," I murmur, not knowing if he'll be able to hear me. I guess it doesn't matter. All I've done for a while is threaten him and act so bitter towards him. My heart sinks as I remember the various times his eyes have flashed with fear. He must hate me.

"It's okay, Stripes." He replies, startling me. "I can't even begin to imagine how tough things are for you right now, and I shouldn't've said anything. Don't worry about it."

"I shouldn't have yelled at you..." I begin, but he interrupts me.

"Relax, Stripes, it isn't the first time someone's threatened to dismember me. And it probably won't be the last!" Scourge laughs, and a smile slips onto my face. "Just chill out, get some rest."

"Alright," I reply, feeling a bit better. Thank goodness he's not too angry at me. I can tell he's still upset, but my apologizing helped soothe some ruffled feathers there. "Goodnight."

"Just shaddup and sleep already."

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

I stand alone in the room again, arms folded behind my back, staring into the picture frames. This time, the darkness within them has less of a tangible presence; it's more of a simple blackness than the terrifying void. I know without even reaching a hand out to it that it will offer me no escape this time. Whatever happens here, I will have to face it. I can't leave, not this time. Taking a deep breath, I lift my head, allowing myself to acknowledge the other person, lurking in the shadows. "This room," I begin, speaking softly, lowering my head again. "Why do I keep coming here?" Turning to face it, I lock eyes with the monster, unfazed. "Are you bringing me here?"

"Me?" The creature steps into the light, false innocence plastered to their grotesque face. "No, of course not." They reach out and scrape their nails across an elegant wood table that I hadn't noticed before. It's a dark wood, mahogany perhaps, older, undoubtedly valuable, but small; a simple desk, perhaps. A matching chair, on the side closest to me, made of the same materials, affirms my guess. "You're bringing yourself here," the monster leers at me, stopping with their hand wrapped around the back of the chair.

"That doesn't seem a very convincing statement to me," I snort, crossing my arms, "since you claim you are me." Stepping forward, I force myself to confront the demon, standing across from it. "If you are indeed bringing me here, then by your standards," I growl, pressing my face close to theirs, "I am bringing myself here, since you think you're a part of me."

"Ohhh," the monster steps back and waggles a finger at me, tilting its head downwards and grinning maniacally, "you're goooood."

"What do you want?" I demand, unamused. My ears press against my head as I scowl, frustrated.

"I want control. I want to be the one running things." It looks back up, beaming at me, its jagged teeth oozing saliva.

"Well," I sneer coldly, tired of constantly hearing this from the monster, "sorry to ruin Christmas for you, but you're going to have to ask for something else." I narrow my eyes to slits. "Such as, I don't know, what you really want from me."

"Why, whatever do you mean?" Feigning ignorance, the deceitful monster gasps. "I've told you what I want--"

"No, you haven't." I snap furiously, slamming my hand down onto the table. It cracks beneath my fist, and the creature flinches. "You've told me what you think will frighten me. What you haven't explained, are your true intentions."

All pretense has faded from the monster, and they purse their lips, a sour expression on their face. After a second, the wicked smile returns, and they shrug, relenting. "Fine, fine. You want to see my true intentions? Then I'll show you." Turning around, they beckon for me to follow them; reluctantly, I plod after the demon, all senses tuned to catch any change in my surroundings. Glancing down, I notice that the floor is made of black tiles, veins of purple writhing across their smooth glassy surface. Disgusted, I turn my attention back to the demon, grimacing. We walk into the darkness, its ink-like color closing in around us until our only light source is the glimmering aura oozing from the demon's blackened flesh. It pauses suddenly, and I realize it stands in front of a door. I step up beside the creature, and it tilts its head to look at me. "Beyond this door lies events in your life, both those that have happened and those that may come to be."

"What are you playing at?" I hiss, confused. "What does that mean?"

"Listen," the creature steps back, twisting its body around and placing one hand on my shoulder; its skin is rough and ridged, warped and mangled. "You have to trust me."

With a shudder, I pull away, and it drops its hand back to its side, looking slightly hurt. "I wouldn't even trust you as far as I can throw you," I snarl, "but if this stupid door is somehow significant, take me through it."

"Alright," the monster answers, throwing its hands in front of it in a gesture of surrender. "I understand--you think that if you hear me out, you'll be able to escape. You think," it wraps one hand around the doorknob, "that if you just let me talk," the knob twists, making a slight clicking noise, "I'll run out of things to say." The door creaks open slowly. "I wish that were the case."

Before me, through the doorway, sprawls an unusual scene. A massive hunk of rock, it seems, floating above the stratosphere, can be seen, with the swirling stars behind it, and Earth's curvature beneath. "What is this?" I breathe, mystified.

"It's the end, and yet, a new beginning." Stepping through, the being turns, extending one hand to me. "Come, and I will show you." My pride flares in my chest, and I narrow my eyes, but before I can say anything it continues, "If you try to make it on your own, you'll fall. Only I can fly in this world."

"Hmph," I snort, "Whatever you say." Taking their hand in mine, I try to ignore the feeling of their skin, instead focusing on the scene in front of us.

"Quickly, now," they murmur to themselves, streaking across the sky with me in tow. "Quickly, now, or it will come to pass and we will have missed it; quickly, now..."

"Can you cut that out?" I snap, irritated. "Nothing seems to be happening anyways."

"We must situate ourselves before it begins!" It snarls in response as our feet hit the stone. "Hurry, hurry." Shoving me behind a rock, it mutters something else, and a slight purple aura surrounds us. "Look, look!" The demon yelps, and I lift myself to stare over the rock.

"Wh--!" I start, but it claps its hands over my mouth. Ahead of me, Sonic, glowing golden, stands facing someone else who I don't recognize; they glow with a black aura, darkness pouring from their every cell. The two seem to be talking to each other about something, and before long the two leap into battle, light and dark energies flashing everywhere.

"Shh, look with your eyes, not your lips," the monster growls in my ear, and my eyes widen as I watch the scene unfold before me...