"Is this train ride ever going to be over?" I complain, my voice slightly muffled by the seat cushion. I'd gotten so bored, I'd lain face-down across an entire booth's seat, my left arm folded beneath me, right arm dangling down with my fingers grazing the floor; Rouge, seated on the other side of the booth, giggles. From her vantage point, all she can see is the back of my head with my spines sticking up over the table, and my legs, bent at the knee, with my feet slowly cycling back and forth, just to keep moving; in addition, she sees my slightly wadded-up hoodie, which I took off and put on the table earlier. The air here is stiflingly still, heated by the sun and the train's engine. "Jeez, I know you said this was gonna be boring, but I didn't figure it'd be this boring," I huff, lifting my head to rest my muzzle on the seat cushion. My nose was getting squashed from lying face-down.

"Sorry, Shadow," she stifles a laugh. "If it's any consolation, we only have an hour left." I groan, annoyed, closing my eyes in sadness. The sound of pages turning catches my attention; she'd brought a book along with her, but wouldn't let me read over her shoulder--something about my breath tickling her ears when I lean over. I glare at her legs from under the table, envious. At least she has something to do, though--she'd probably be more annoying than I am when bored. With a sigh, I roll onto my back, crossing my legs, right above left. Folding my arms over my chest, I glower at the ceiling, counting the beams. It's something I've done repeatedly during this trip, but at least it gives me something to do. My mind begins to wander this time, though, and I find myself calculating how much time it will take us to get there. She said it was only an hour, and an hour is sixty minutes. That's thirty minutes, twice. And thirty minutes is fifteen minutes, twice. So I just have to get through fifteen minutes four times and we'll be at HQ. I snort, closing my eyes. That's not so difficult, right? And fifteen minutes is just ten minutes and then five minutes. Or five minutes, three times. So I really only have to get through five minutes twelve times. That's not too awful, right? Scooting back, I hang my head off the edge of the seat, peering around the booths at a clock hanging above the door to the next car. Move faster, I think at it. Move faster! The clock ticks at the same monotonous pace, ignoring my demands. I glare at it, annoyed, until Rouge quips in amusement, "Quit scowling at the clock. It's not its fault that time can't go as fast as you can."

I let out a long, agonized groan, letting myself slide off the cushion until my head hits the floor, black and red spines cascading down and forming one large mass of hair around my head. My snow-white friend tries not to laugh as I pause to take a breath. "Say," I lift my head, looking up at her around the table, "what exactly do I have to do at the headquarters? I mean, what's in store for me here?"

Rouge flicks her ears, glancing at me as she closes her book with a gentle thump. "Well, basically, they're gonna interview you and figure out if you're as great as I told them you were. If you pass that, next you'll have to sign a waiver," she flaps her hand aimlessly around as I struggle to sit up, "but it'll just be the whole 'if you get hurt, you won't sue them' type of thing." Finally upright, I wheeze slightly--that was the most difficult sit-up of my life. "Then, the President will wanna talk to you. But that's not normal procedure--usually, new agents are just handed their cover stories by a superior, never directly by the President."

"Why does he wanna talk to me?" I query, tipping my head to one side in curiosity. She frowns, and worry spears me.

"I'm not entirely sure. He doesn't usually talk to new recruits, but maybe he just wants to meet you because you'll be working with me." A grin flashes across her face. "Since I'm one of the best agents he's got, he and I get along pretty well. If we weren't in a work environment, I daresay we'd be friends, actually."

I raise an eyebrow. "Really?" He's her superior, and the head of this organization, yet the two are that close?

"Really," she confirms, leaning forward and propping her chin up on one hand, elbow resting on the table. "I'm guessing he's just trying to look out for me--after all, you don't entirely have the best reputation. But this will change that." Her eyes glitter as she looks at me. "You stick with me and do well, and you're gonna go far, kid."

I bristle slightly. "Don't call me a kid," I grumble, "I'm only a couple years younger than you." One pearly white eyebrow quirks up at that.

"How old are you, anyways?" She asks, interested.

That's a great question. Robotnik's file had my age, but I can't quite remember what it said. I think it said ten? I don't know. "Eh," I shrug it off, "dunno, eleven?"

Her grin widens. "I'm fourteen," she answers cheerfully. "Three whole years ahead of you!"

I flatten my ears, rolling my eyes. "Yeah, whatever," I grumble with a "hmph," unimpressed. "Three years isn't an awful lot."

"Oh, really?" Rouge answers in a patronizing tone, "And how much has your life changed in three years, huh?" I flinch, the idea dredging up old memories that I'd so longed to forget. She cringes a bit, noticing my reaction. "Ehh... Sorry. That was insensitive of me."

"It's fine," I brush it all off, shaking my head to clear it. "You have a point. In three short years, my life's turned upside-down." Glancing out the window, my eyes glaze over as my mind drifts off again. "I'm definitely not the same person I was then." So very much has changed in my life. Death, destruction, torture and agony... Closing my eyes, I lower my head a bit, sadness draping across me like a dark blanket. But my past, though a blood-soaked horrorfest, is all I have today. And it may be all I ever have.

Rouge, uncomfortable, shifts position, then blurts, "Hey, are you hungry?" I open one eye, shooting her a questioning glance. "There's a dining car on this train, why don't we go check it out?" Sweating nervously, she smiles at me, eyes filled with hope.

I ease my other eye open, turning to look at her with one eyebrow raised. Hmm, well, I haven't eaten since before Robotnik captured me, I muse silently, and my stomach growls as if reinforcing my words. What harm could it do? "Sure," I answer, hefting myself up and out of the booth. "Lead the way," I smirk, stretching a hand out to help her up, even though I know she's fully capable of getting up on her own.

The white bat grins at me and takes my bare hand in her elegantly-gloved one. "Alright!" She cheers, joyous, as she starts tugging me along. Despite how small her hands are, they hold an awful lot of strength, and the silk feels peculiarly cold against my warm fur. "C'mon, it's this way," she calls over her shoulder, shoving a door open.

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

Five minutes' worth of awkwardly being dragged through several train cars, some occupied and some empty, have finally culminated in us standing in the doorway of the dining car. It's a buffet-style arrangement, with carts carrying pre-heated food sitting in even rows. Steam rises from a few of the trays, and the inviting smells prompt my stomach to growl again. So much food... Wow. Rouge trots over to one of the carts, lifting a plate off the stack balancing on the end of it. I follow suit, examining all of the food around me. One smell in particular catches my attention, but I can't figure out where it's coming from. I suppose I'll just have to walk around and find out, I muse, blinking down at a peculiar mess of noodles and vegetables. Er... No thanks. I cringe inwardly--I can tell just from the smell that whatever dish this is, it isn't popular. It's been sitting out all day long, and nobody's touched it. Not a good sign. Moving on, I browse through the selections, trying to find the source of that underlying scent I caught earlier. I narrow my eyes, focusing intently on it; after a few moments, I realize it's on the other side of the train car. I technically passed it already. Refraining from face-palming, I growl to myself, heading off to my left. I can't believe I didn't locate it sooner. My senses must be getting dull. Pausing, I take a quiet, deep breath, trying to pinpoint it exactly--to my surprise, a familiar shape catches my eye, and I turn my head, tracking it. There! In a tray of gleaming silver rest the foodstuffs I'm looking for. The source of the amazing smell is a plate filled with those bun-like pastries--the same ones I had when I was staying with Scourge. My eyes light up and I bounce over to them, stifling a squeal of delight. Score!

A mere few moments later, my plate holds nothing but pastries, as many as can fit onto it without tumbling off. I carry an additional one in my mouth, hanging half-out of it. My fangs dig into the light bread, securing it--this thing isn't going anywhere, not anytime soon. Humming softly, I cheerfully step out of the dining cart, starting my trek back to our seats. I'm not quite sure where Rouge went, but it doesn't matter. We'll reconvene at our table, I tell myself as I try not to feel too self-conscious. Some of the people we passed on our way down are staring at me now, and I stop humming, feeling a little on-the-spot. A few of these spectators seem to be laughing at me, albeit quietly, and I quicken my pace, nervous. What's up with all these people? What's so funny? More than a little unnerved, I quickly shut the door behind me, breathing a sigh of relief that this next car is empty save for a few sleeping passengers. The hell was all that about? Shaking my head, I keep going; eventually, I step back into our cart. Rouge is already seated at our booth, much to my surprise, her back to me. I smirk, relaxing a bit more as I teleport into my seat.

She flinches, startled. "Oh! Shadow, uh, there you are." Blushing slightly and feeling a bit silly, she tries to regain her composure as I take the pastry out of my mouth. Her eyes fall to my plate, and she quirks an eyebrow up, looking back to my face. "Really?" She laughs. "You're eating that many of those?"

"I got this many of 'em, didn't I?" I answer a bit defensively, taking a bite out of the one I'd had in my mouth earlier. The crunchy, sugar-coated fried bread practically melts in my mouth, and the sweet chocolate filling is just as fantastic now as it was then. Of course, these loaves are a bit different than the one I had before--for one, these are more diamond-shaped, and they're fried in an ever-so-slightly different manner, with a different grade of chocolate, but it's not that big of a change.

"Just don't make yourself sick," she snorts, bemused, as she takes a bite from the sandwich she picked up. I flick my ears dismissively, finishing the first pastry. I hadn't been counting, but I apparently picked up 8 of the buns, including the one in my mouth.  Eh, whatever. I'll just take the ones I don't eat with me, I muse as I chew the remaining bites of sweet bread.

"I won't get sick," I answer as soon as I swallow. "I never do."

"Somehow, that sounds like some kind of challenge." The white bat laughs playfully between bites. "If you do get sick, though, I reserve the right to say 'I told you so.'"

"You won't have the opportunity," I chuckle, dexterously tearing open my second target and stuffing a piece in my mouth. Despite my best efforts, my tail begins to wag like a dog's as the chocolate-smeared bread dissolves in my mouth. This is amazing! I swing my feet back and forth under the table as the two of us let a silence come between us, focused on our food.

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

The hour passes a lot faster than I'd thought it would; Rouge spent the time regaling me with tales of the missions she and Omega had undertaken while I was gone. It was pretty entertaining, but something tells me she was over-exaggerating some of the details in a few tales. As the train grinds to a halt, brakes squealing, she looks up, excitement glittering in her eyes. "We're here!" She announces, stating the obvious, but I bite my tongue to keep from pointing that fact out as she slides out of the booth, looking eager. "Come on, come on!" She turns around and tugs me out of my seat.

"Hey, relax!" I writhe out of her grasp, steadying myself with one hand on the table, grabbing my hoodie. "It's not like this place is gonna go anywhere." Stepping towards the doors, I deliberately move slowly, just to annoy her, slinging my jacket over one shoulder.

"Urrgghhh, for someone who's supposedly as fast as Sonic, you really know how to crawl along!" Rouge shoves me towards the exit, and I chuckle, leaning back and letting her push me forward. The doors open with a slight shudder and sunlight streams in; I flinch, wincing, as my sensitive eyes adjust. Outside, I see brownish pavement, tall buildings, with little islands of mulch harboring trees--the usual thing you see in cities. Breathless, my snowy friend pauses at my right, looking irritated. "Come on, we're gonna be late!"

"I wasn't aware that we were on a schedule," raising my eyebrows, I look around. Off to our left a bit, there's a small park of concrete with a fountain at its center, bearing stone benches and some potted flowers. Behind the fountain, I can see a very large building--in fact, upon closer inspection I realize that the semicircle forming the park is in fact one large building. "What's that, over there?" I ask of Rouge, gesturing towards it. It stands impossibly tall, skyscraper-level, a light bluish-grey with darker blue-tinted windows; the fountains in front of it must be a courtyard rather than a park.

"That's where we're going," she answers firmly. I glance back in surprise--it's an awfully civilian building for a government base of operations. "This is G.U.N. Headquarters. All top-of-the-line agents report here, and it's also where our President resides. He used to be a general, by the way, so he may ask you to refer to him as General rather than President."

"Makes sense," I muse as we start to walk over. The nearer we get, the more details come into focus--for instance, I can now see that the semicircle is normally gated, but those gates are wide open today. The pillars holding said gates have a peculiar symbol emblazoned upon them, a "G" enclosed by varying concentric hexagons and circles with three triangles sticking out--two on the bottom, and one on the top. I suppose they could be the edges of a very large triangle beneath the whole design, but it isn't very clear from this carving.

Rouge notices me examining the symbol as we pass it. "That's G.U.N.'s symbol," she explains. "It's on a lot of their stuff--makes it easy for people to tell friend from foe." Smiling at me, she chirps, "From now on, that symbol will signify to you that your friends are nearby!"

"Seems an awfully complicated insignia," I answer flatly, not interested. Friends? No thank you. My eyes cloud with bitterness as I look away. Friends are a waste of time, particularly friendship with humans. I think back to Robotnik, and how easily I was deceived. It makes my blood boil.

"Well, I guess they really wanted to seem creative, since their acronym is so...plain." My ocean-eyed companion replies thoughtfully. "G.U.N., by the way, stands for Guardian Units of Nations. They're an international system, created as a sort of police force. Different branches across the world respond to both local and national authorities."

"Guardian Units of Nations, eh?" I sneer. "That is quite dull." Not to mention pretentious. "Anyways, where do I need to go first?"

"That way," Rouge points to one of the side doors, where a human in military-grade armor stands. "That guy there was probably told to escort you. Good luck!" She rubs the top of my head and I refrain from growling at her. I'm not a dog, I think acidly as I pull away, stalking towards the door. Each and every bit of this building is the same bluey-grey with the same windows in the same order. The uniformity, while pleasant, makes my skin crawl--it all seems so stifled to me. I pass a few people, all walking rather close to the buildings. I, myself, walk a bit more to the center of the sidewalk, putting distance between me and the walls.

"Shadow the Hedgehog?" The soldier looks down at me with a rather expressionless face. Even their tone is a bit dull, and I recognize that same darkness lurking behind them. I wonder what this man has been through...

"I am he," I answer coolly, doing my best to seem unworried. Apprehension swirls in the pit of my stomach, but I take a breath and steel myself as the human nods, turning around and opening the door for me. Wordlessly, I walk inside; the room is a plain darker blue. These people sure as hell love the color blue, don't they? There's a receptionist desk slightly to my left, and at it sits a black-haired human whose hair half-covers their face. They're on the phone, saying something in a falsely cheerful tone as they tap away at their keyboard. Directly in front of me stands a door painted the same color as the walls, and to my right are rows of dark blue chairs cushioned with cheap plastic.

"Please follow me." My escort says stiffly, walking past the reception desk. I trot after him obediently, inspecting my surroundings. The entirety of the inside is the same exact color with little variation, and all the doors are painted in shades similar to them. The floors are white tile, and I wonder if we're going in circles--every single hallway looks the same as the last. It's enough to give you a headache, though it does remind me of the Space Base and Air Fortress. Sadness pangs in my heart--while I hate Robotnik and everything he stands for, I can't help but miss those times, when everything seemed so simple. But that was a lie. All of it. And you know that even then everything wasn't simple! I berate myself for thinking such foolish thoughts.

"Where, exactly, are we going?" I ask, and the soldier blinks down at me, glancing over his shoulder.

"We're going to the examination room. It's where new recruits of the Special Class are tested." Upon seeing my puzzled expression, the man smiles in a friendly manner. "There's three different classes of soldier here at G.U.N.," he explains, taking a right turn, "there's Normal Class, which are all the average foot soldiers and scientists and such. Then, there's the Special and Master Classes--Special Classes are those who, either by natural gifts or training from other people, sometimes both, have skipped G.U.N. training. They usually take on bigger missions than Normal Class. Master Class are the Normal Class employees who have proved to be very skilled at what they do--skilled enough to rival the Special Class." Looking back at me to see if I understand, he smiles again, and adds, "I'm a Normal Class officer, but you're going to be a Special Class agent if you pass the test."

"What is the test about?" I query, feeling a bit uncomfortable. I hope it isn't some kind of knowledge test. I didn't exactly study for it.

"Worry not," he answers, pausing in front of a door. "A few of our science department are going to ask you a series of questions, I think. Just making sure you're up to snuff, which, given who you are, I'm sure you'll do fine with." He opens the door, and I warily enter the room.

It's a plain white room with a long desk at the center of the room. A group of people either in suits or lab coats sit at the chairs, looking at me in a mixture of hushed awe and friendly apathy. I walk forward slowly, my shoes clacking loudly on the tiled floor, and take the last remaining seat on the end, slightly uncomfortable. The chairs are tall, and my feet don't touch the floor, reminding me of just how small I am in comparison to humans. Once I sit down, the woman at the other end of the table, five seats away, smiles and clears her throat. Everyone looks to her, myself included, as she begins to speak. "Welcome, Shadow," she says in a smooth and intelligent-sounding voice. Her green eyes glitter brightly in contrast with her short, professionally-styled natural-red hair as she looks at me, her gaze hard and calculating. "My name is Dana, and I am the head of the science department." She wears an official-looking suit, black with a very pale periwinkle shirt beneath it. Pinned to one lapel is a tag reading her full name and bearing the G.U.N. logo. I notice with interest that she's a doctor.

"It's nice to meet you, Dana," I say evenly, "I would shake your hand but I'm afraid I can't reach."

My quip draws muffled laughter from a few of the scientists gathered, and a smile sneaks its way onto Dr. Dana's face. "Yes, well, we'll have to save that for after this meeting." Picking up a folder in front of her, she opens it and scans the paper within for a second; looking back up, she begins again. "We're gathered here today to ask you a series of questions, as I'm sure you already know. We all have a copy of G.U.N.'s information pertaining to you, but there are, of course, gaps in our knowledge." Closing the file, she leans back slightly, her posture still stiff. "We will ask you questions both to confirm what we may already know and to help flesh out our knowledge of you. Are you ready?" So, I won't know what information is brand-new to them, and what's old news... I better choose my words with extreme care.

"I would not be here if I wasn't." I reply calmly, folding my hands together, leaning onto the table. "Ask me anything you wish and I will answer it as fully as I can." Or, rather, as fully as is required.

"Understood." She nods, and the scientists around me shift positions, opening up their own files. I wait patiently, looking at the humans assembled. The group is unbalanced--there are more males than females, for whatever reason. Some wear glasses, and others pull out pairs specifically for reading; after a few moments, one human lifts her head to look at me with piercing blue eyes.

"Our file states that you were in Robotnik's service for years. Was this willing service?" Her dark brown skin contrasts with the two caucasian humans sitting next to her, and her dreadlocks are pulled into an elegant bun behind her head. Burgundy-framed glasses rest on her nose, and I note that her name-card reads "Mira Nygus, M.D."

"I'm not entirely certain," I reply, and she furrows her brows. "It's difficult to explain. As far as I know, he took me out of whatever environment I lived in when I was very young, and preformed some sort of," I pause, biting my lip, "mind alterations to make me compliant. Given that this is Robotnik, however, the effects did not last long." Suspicion flashes from the humans, but I had told them I would answer their questions, so I press on. "He could not sufficiently suppress my memories, and they kept re-surfacing every half year or so. I can't recall all of the details of what happened, since I was rather young, but during the stretches of time that his procedures worked, yes, I served him willingly."

Dr. Nygus nods, but doesn't look entirely convinced. However, before she can say anything, Dr. Dana queries, "Would you ever go back to working with Robotnik?"

"I'd rather punch myself in the face," I snort, and a few of the gathered humans flinch, surprised by my flippancy. "He's a terrible person, and I despise what he does. I will never willingly work for him ever again."

Dr. Nygus raises an eyebrow, closing the file. Her slightly upturned light-purple shirt collar shifts, and she absentmindedly pushes it back into place. "Have you had self-destructive thoughts before?"

I raise an eyebrow, caught off guard. "What?" After a second, it clicks, and I chuckle. "No, no. I just meant to compare two things that will never happen--I would never punch myself in the face and I would never work with Robotnik," I answer firmly, and she relaxes slightly, appeased. Watch what you say, I snarl at myself, these people are probably just waiting for an excuse to ship you to a mental hospital or something! The collected humans nod and shuffle, a few clearing their throats and some wiping off their glasses. This is going to be the longest interview of my life, I sigh inwardly, already stressed-out.