Rouge runs her fingers through her hair, shaking her head slightly as the hairdryer's air buffets her fur, drying it rather quickly. Blinking at her reflection, she smiles cheerfully, looking forward to her first day on the job with Shadow. This is gonna be lots of fun, she says to herself, picking up her eyeliner pen and leaning forward slightly. Her ears prick, hearing soft footsteps in the hall. Great, Shadow's up! Smiling widely, she hurriedly puts on her eyeliner, expertly carving a wing across her lids. Carefully she picks up her false lashes, applying a thin line of glue; pausing for a moment, she gently blows on the glue to let it congeal slightly, and then she presses it along her lash-line, adjusting its position with a pair of tweezers. Holding very, very still, she repeats the process for her other eye, and after a few seconds the glue is dried, her eye makeup perfected. Grinning, she opens a drawer, rummaging around for a few seconds. Let's see, what shade of lipstick should I wear today? Red? Or purple? Maybe pink? Frowning, she purses her lips, thinking. Hmm, purple would go much better with my outfit. Picking up a rich berry shade, she smears it across her lips, careful not to let it smudge anywhere. Smacking her lips, she inspects her handiwork; a few seconds later, she steps back, grinning, and caps the lipstick, putting it away. Opening the door, she steps into the hallway, still beaming cheerfully.

"Gooood morning, Shadow!" She chirps, walking into the kitchen. Her moody partner is standing by her coffee machine, which is pleasantly bubbling away, the rich aroma of coffee filling the air.

He turns, looking morose, as per usual, but the moment his eyes meet hers they glitter brightly, like rubies. "'Morning," he answers with a smirk, ears pricked. "Sleep well?"

"Yep!" She chirps, opening a cabinet and grabbing a paper plate; smiling widely to hide her concern, she side-eyes the crimson-streaked hedgehog. His eyes are duller than usual, with darkness clouding the skin beneath them; he looks awful, almost sick, but Rouge knows that if she says anything he'll just snort and shake his head, telling her not to worry. Sighing inwardly, she opens another door, pulling out a package of bagels and opening it. He'd sooner crash and kill himself than worry me--he's far too sweet for his own good, really. Picking up a bagel, she tears it in half as her darker friend pours coffee into a mug. I just don't understand how his mind works... Or why he always blames himself for the horrible things Robotnik made him do. Plopping the bread into her toaster, she presses the lever and the bagel-halves retract into the machine, which begins ticking. Turning away, she folds her arms, staring straight forward, deep in thought. How could Robotnik do such awful things as I read in that file, she glances over at Shadow, who is watching the toaster intently, to a creature so innocent? He's just so...adorable. Anyone who'd wanna hurt that is some sort of monster. The toaster dings loudly, ejecting the bagels halfway, and Shadow jerks back with a stifled yelp, looking startled. Rouge laughs, and he turns away, cheeks red. "What, never seen a toaster before?" She jokes, but he only growls and angles his head such that she can't see his face.

"No," he grumbles, "not personally, anyways--" bristling, he snaps defensively, "I never had a use for them, so it makes sense that I haven't seen one, you know!" Tilting his nose into the air, he flattens his ears, looking rather peeved.

Stifling her giggles, the azure-eyed bat answers, "Well, I guess that does make sense." He looks over his shoulder at the toaster, seeming mildly unnerved by something; she ignores him, picking up her rather hot bagel halves and putting them on the plate.

"Y'know," he mumbles, furrowing his brows, and she spares him a glance, "there was a legend in Robotnik's army..." His eyes glint suddenly, and she bites her lip to keep from laughing; the look in his eyes speaks of some faraway tale of heroism and such, but his story seems anything but dramatic. More like over-dramatic. "...of a robot who once annoyed Eggman so much," his eyes grow wide, "he turned him into a toaster!" I wonder how many times he's told this story to Robotnik's new recruits to scare them... She thinks, raising an eyebrow at him as he turns his attention from her to the toaster. Heh. Like a high school senior scaring the freshmen. She could practically picture it--the hedgehog he would've been if he had a normal childhood. I like that image... "We always assumed a toaster was something awful, but I guess maybe it's more of an embarrassment, y'know?" He rubs his chin, looking at the small tin box meditatively. "Turned from a death-dealing Robotnik machination into a small trinket for artificially warming your bread--" A shiver runs up his spine, and he grimaces, picking up his coffee mug. "How awful would that be? Humiliating..." He mumbles, walking out of the kitchen. Her sensitive ears prick to hear him mutter, "So uncool a fate... Poor guy," as he walks into the hall, heading presumably back to his room.

Shaking her head, Rouge opens her fridge and pulls out a tub of butter. "Honestly," she chuckles softly, grabbing a dull knife out of a drawer, "he is such a weirdo." As she sticks the knife into the dairy product, she calls loudly, "Hey, we leave in thirty minutes, so get ready quickly. And for God's sake, take a shower, please."

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

Blinking down at the peculiar knob, I tip my head to one side. "How do I...?" I mutter to myself, puzzled. It bears no defining marks--just shiny chrome, or maybe steel?--other than a line of red on one side and a line of blue on the other. Rouge had told me to turn the knob, then pull on the small lever above the spigot, but which way do I turn it? Does it matter? I also didn't understand what she meant by 'taking a shower'--don't people refer to rainstorms as 'showers'? How on earth would I take one? You can't exactly steal the weather, y'know... Shaking my head, I lean forward to grasp the knob, trying to turn it. To my surprise, it doesn't budge in one direction, but the moment I twist it the other way, water pours out of the outlet beneath it, and I yip, startled by its sudden noise. Oh, so that's what she meant? Shrugging, I pull on the small lever she'd pointed at, and to my shock the water stops. Uh-oh, did I do something wrong? I step back, worried, just in time for ice cold water to start shooting out of the faucet above my head, beaning me right in the face. I let out a peculiar howl, throwing my hands in front of my face and dodging out of the water's viciously cold stream. What the hell is this?! Is it raining?! What's going on, and why is it so cold?

"Shadow?" I hear Rouge call, her voice muffled by the door, "You okay?"

"Y-Yeah," I splutter, too embarrassed to ask for help. Looking around, I realize a lot of the water is spraying off me and onto the floor. Crap... So that's what the curtain is for... Grabbing the plastic curtain, I pull it across the tub, struggling slightly; the cold water is stiffening my muscles. Huh... You know... This is just like that waterfall, the one Lightpaws took me to. Lifting my head, I look up at the faucet as water runs down my fur. Wait--did that really happen? My brow creases and I wrinkle my nose, thinking. What, exactly, is real, anyways? How many of my memories are fake? Sighing, I lower my head, beginning to shiver. I don't know how to guarantee, even, that what I'm experiencing now isn't another lie, I realize, looking down at my hands. They seem to blur and distort the longer I stare at them. What if I'm not really here? What if all of this is a dream of some sort, and I'm in stasis? Fear rattles through me. What if none of this is real?

"Sh-Shut up," I hiss aloud, gritting my teeth. "That kind of thinking," I lower my voice as I speak, trying to refrain from being heard, "never gets you anywhere." Standing up straight, I shake myself off, feeling less and less bothered by the cold. If this is all a dream, it's the most pleasant one I've ever had. Glancing about the shower, I notice a few bottles of peculiar-colored liquid, and a small white rock-thing. What's all that? Picking up a bottle, I squint, reading it through the water's spray. "Sham....poo?" I blink, perplexed. "The heck is this?" Turning it over in my hands, I quickly scan the back of it. Ohh... It's soap, but it's hair-only soap? I look at my feet, then back at the bottle. But I'm covered in hair. Does that mean I'd have to use it on all of myself? Or is it head-only hair? Gingerly I set it back down, taking care not to knock anything over. I'll just leave it alone for now. After a few moments, however, I find myself getting curious again, so I pick up a different bottle, reading it as well. Weird, it's another hair-specific soap, but with a different name. What's the difference? Snagging the first one, I compare the two. What does this one have that that one doesn't have? Or do they do the same thing? I mean, they're both soap, and as far as I know, soap just gets you clean. Tipping my head to one side, I contemplate for a moment, still rather confused. Maybe I could try one? But, no--I can't do that, these are Rouge's. Then again, she said I smell terrible... Sniffing one of the bottles, I hum quietly to myself, still thinking. This stuff smells great, though, so maybe it'd be a good idea. I can apologize later if she gets mad, and maybe if I use just a small amount she won't even know. Turning it, I struggle to flip open the cap; thanks to the water and slight soap residue on the bottle, I have a difficult time of it, but eventually the cap opens and I gently try to squeeze the bottle, holding the open end over my palm.

Unfortunately, this soap decides that my gentle squeeze is the equivalent of driving over the bottle with a monster truck or something--within seconds, my hand is covered in this gooey liquid. "Crud!" I yelp aloud, quickly turning it upright and trying to shove the soap back in. Unfortunately, my efforts are in vain, and I just get the bottle covered in this 'shampoo' stuff. Oh no! Crap! Crap, what am I gonna do?! The honey-colored liquid is oozing down my arm unpleasantly, and I frantically try to rub it off on my leg so that I can divert my attention back to the now-slimy bottle. Argh, what a disaster!

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

Rouge taps her foot, arms crossed. Sheesh, what's taking him so long? You'd think he'd be able to take a shower in under fifteen minutes... Sighing, she closes her eyes, tilting her chin downwards. "Please tell me he didn't somehow end up doing something stupid..." Really, only he could mess up taking a shower. It's bad enough I had to show him how the faucet works--I really hope he doesn't wind up taking forever or... She pauses. How many things could go wrong in this situation? I don't think he's stupid--er, naïve--enough to eat the soap, especially since the shampoo I have is floral and not food-like at all, and he's far too agile to slip and fall. Other than that, what could possibly go wrong? To her surprise, she hears the water shut off, and she smirks, opening her eyes again. Oh, good, that means he'll be done soon, and I can stop fretting over whether or not he's turning my bathroom into a disaster area. Stretching, she flaps her wings gently, trying to work out the stiffness she felt. She hadn't slept well--she'd been a bit too busy worrying about Shadow. Each time I see him, it seems like he's in worse and worse shape, mentally. The first time we met... Her mind flashes back to the day they first spoke. He had seemed so serious, self-assured and confident...What was he now? As time wore on, he grew less and less stable. I saw him broken, after his fall, way back when, the first time I took care of him--how many years was it? One or two? I'm not entirely sure. It may even have been three. She shrugs, shaking it off. Either way, he was in pretty rough shape back then. And he's in even worse shape now--at least back then he could sleep. Sadness tinges her heart as she remembers how terrified he had been, trying to jump out of that window. That had been the first time she'd seen him cry, as well as the first time he'd ever heard her sing. I wonder if he remembers that. A rosy blush begins to tinge her cheeks. God, I hope he's forgotten that! Embarrassed, she rubs her face, trying to force the blush away. Although... He did look really cute from that angle. She grins suddenly, drumming her fingers on the kitchen table. It was equally sad and adorable; I didn't think the two could be combined, but I guess he really is capable of anything.

The sound of a hairdryer going off breaks through her meditation, and her ears perk up as she hears some peculiar sounds along with it. "What the...?" She turns, slanting her ears to hear better.

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

"AGH! WHAT THE HELL?!" I screech, hot air buffeting my face harshly; my eyes dry out instantly as I turn the weird wind-making machine away from my face, terrified. What is this?! Where's all this air coming from? And why is it so warm? Shaking my head, I glare down at it, trying to figure out the dials and buttons on it. The machine is a sleek purple, her favorite color, and well-kept; it bears two circles imbedded within it, one bearing the settings of heat and one bearing the settings of...wind intensity? I don't know, but I accidentally shoved the 'wind-intensity' button to "high," and now it feels like my face is on fire. Fumbling a bit, I manage to jam the dial into the "low" position again, and the air dies down a bit, though still warm. I still have no clue how this works, but at least I can dry my hair now, I guess. Turning the dryer back to my head, I shake my fur out, trying to get the air to reach all of my hair, not just the fur in the front, but my spines won't cooperate. Every time I run my hands through my quills, they just flop back into their normal position, clumped together, and I growl, annoyed. Glancing around, I try to find something I could use to de-tangle my fur; my eyes land on a brush, and I pick it up carefully. I don't recall if I've ever actually used one of these, not since I escaped that suit, I muse, turning it over in my hand, but it can't be too hard, right? Lifting it to my head, I try and brush through my quills; to my surprise, it glides smoothly through, efficiently managing my matted fur.

A few minutes later, my spines are relatively dry, at the very least dryer than when I got out of the shower, and my chest fluff is fluffier than ever. Wow, that 'shampoo' really worked wonders, didn't it? Smiling slightly, I admire how bright of a white it is. I feel so clean and pretty--it's rather refreshing, honestly. I've been living in dirt and filth for three years now... But not anymore. My smile widens. Now, maybe I really do have a place where I belong--here, by Rouge's side. A peculiar fluttery feeling seizes my chest, and I bite my finger to keep from giggling; a giddy sort of happiness has taken hold of me. A home... I finally have a home, and friends. A job. Security. And Robotnik can't get to me here. My heart jolts and I shiver, turning the hairdryer off. At least, I hope not. I never want to see his damned face ever again. Gritting my teeth, I set down both dryer and brush, shrugging off my thoughts. I've gotta keep a clear head. Opening the door, I pace to my room rapidly, shutting its door behind me and grabbing my socks. "I need a new pair of gloves," I mumble aloud, slipping my gold bands back on as well. For whatever reason, I feel better with them on. Maybe it's just a comfort-object thing, like how small children carry their favorite blankets or toys around, but something about these bracelets makes me feel more stable.

A knock sounds on my door, and I flick my ears, straightening up with surprise. "Hey, you ready yet?" Rouge asks through the door.

"Almost," I answer, picking up a shoe. "Give me another second." Slipping it on, I snag the other one and wrestle with it, hopping to the door on one foot. Finally, the other shoe slides onto my foot, and I open the door, still bent over slightly. Rouge flinches slightly, startled, and I adopt my usual stiff, upright posture, smirking slightly at her.

"Good to go?" She asks, and I nod.

"Good to go."

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

The vehicle roars, lively and strong, a steady rumble of its engine and the tires scraping along the ground. I lean my head out of the window, marveling at the scenery in front of us; I've never been in a situation where I could just sit back and enjoy the ride in a car, given that as the original Team Dark's leader I was the designated driver, and to my surprise it's a lot less stressful to be a passenger than I'd thought. Omega is driving, of course, given that his robotic brain ensures that he's the best driver of us all. Neither Rouge nor I have driving licenses, but the snow-furred bat tells me she plans on getting one soon. I'm not sure they'd allow me to get one, considering my questionable age, but she's convinced I could probably 'fake' my age. Apparently, anthropomorphic creatures like us are held to different standards than the humans--at only fourteen, we're allowed to drive, and by sixteen we're considered wholly independent, since we mature much faster than humans. According to Rouge, that is... I'm not sure if what she's saying is true, since it sounds kinda peculiar to me. Though, in reality, I'm only around ten or eleven or so, and I'm perfectly independent, but I'm a decent bit of a special case.

"C'mon, Shadow, you could totally fake being fourteen," Rouge purrs, shoving me gently.

I pull my head back into the car to give her a glance of feigned irritation. "Just because you can do something doesn't mean you should," I answer, sitting down properly. She and I reside in the back seat, where we can sit beside each other--the mildly annoying white bat had insisted upon it, most vehemently, despite my (halfhearted) protests. It's been a long while since I've chatted with Omega, but it seems I'll have to wait just a bit longer.

"Yeah, well, maybe you should!" She gently swings her feet, looking over at me with her upper lids lowered, her shoulders level with her chin; her arms are locked in a stiff, straight position, supporting her, and her wings are folded around them again. She looks adorable, and she knows it.

"I don't think so," I answer with a 'hmph,' looking away in an effort not to stare--I can't help it, something about her is so alluring, drawing my gaze like a moth to a flame. Staring is rude, Shadow! I admonish myself internally.

"Could we please focus on this report of the mission parameters?" Our third passenger prompts us tiredly. She's a young human, with glittering green eyes and long sandy-blonde hair pulled into pigtails on either side of her head, sporting an official-looking dress coat with long coattails squashed beneath her.

"Of course," I answer smoothly, relaxing into a cross-legged slouch to hide my embarrassment. Focus, I tell myself, you have a mission to accomplish. Taking a silent, deep breath, I close my eyes, just as I would do before beginning the tasks Robotnik assigned to me. Clear your mind. Nothing matters right now other than your orders. Opening my eyes again, I glance at her, and she flinches, pigtails bouncing slightly. "Please continue."

I hear her thoughts, clear as day; 'Whoa, what's up with that--his entire demeanor just changed... How?' Smirking slightly, I glance out the window as she haltingly begins again. "Uhm, yes, ahem, well, t-today you three are going into a building rumored to be the base of a thieves' guild of sorts. They've taken many priceless artifacts over the past few months," passing the file to Rouge, the girl throws a nervous glance my way as I scoot forward slightly to peer over the bat's shoulder, "wh-which we expect you to recover."

"All right," Rouge grins, flipping through the photos of what I assume are the aforementioned artifacts, "Shadow, you take the ones that aren't shiny. I'm going after anything that glitters, baby!" Cheering, she beams down at one image of a particularly large diamond.

"I'll take what I come across," I answer flatly, unamused. "I will not go out of my way to accommodate your peculiar...fascination." Pulling away, I shift my gaze back to the human. "Do we know much of anything about these thieves?"

"They work together flawlessly," the pigtailed girl answers, "and so far have proved rather elusive. However, we have it on good authority that this place is their headquarters, so you should find them all there. We know of at least five members--each one specializing in different martial arts and weapons. It'll be child's play for you two, pretty much." Shrugging, the girl blinks at me, waiting for a reaction.

I give none other than a nod; glancing over my shoulder, I growl at my robotic friend. "How long until we get there, Omega?"

"Approximately thirty minutes." He answers, monotone, his driving still flawless. Hmph, too long... Crossing my arms, I glower out the window, bored stiff. I could teleport there in less than a minute, but I don't know if I can take anyone with me when I do, let alone a person and a robot. Sighing, I shake myself off. No use grumbling about it. Best to just settle down and wait...