IMPENDING DOOM

08

✥
EIGHT
Found
____________

៚ ROUGE STOOD ATOP THE GOLDEN GATE BRIDGE, basking in the red and orange lights of traffic and the silver of the moon's first quarter. She had set out at three a.m., a few hours after Agent Stone hopped in his private jet and returned to Montana.

It was five minutes after the third hour of the new day. Sixty-two hours remain until impending doom.

. . . Not that she cared all that much.

As long as she died absolutely gorgeous and without pain, she rather welcomed death with open arms. Diamonds and jewels and dancing were reasons enough to live, but she wanted more. More to life, more than just surviving.

She wanted love. Jewels can only fill the void for so long.

Long story short, this beautiful bat lived an ugly life on her birth planet. Let's just say she had neglectful up-bringers who refused to give her the affection she wanted, so she stole a sack of magic rings and went planet-hopping until she found our pale blue dot suitable.

So, yes, Rouge wanted love. Hugs and kisses. A companion to hold and sleep with (but not in the way you probably just assumed, you filthy animal) because sleeping alone gets lonely after a while. Someone warm and full of love. She had thought about adopting a cat as a substitute, wondering if a man really is worth her time, so she had done it, but her pretty little pussy back at her apartment wasn't filling.

. . . I'm getting off topic. Anyway, she didn't care too much if this king came and ended the world. At least not now, not until she found the love she was looking for.

To put it simply, Rouge felt stale. Death was a concept she shrugged her shoulders at. It was whatever.

But she was just a girl, shy of eighteen. She hasn't lived long enough or experienced anything to make her want to stay.

She let herself fall from the bridge, arms crossed over her chest. A second later she opened her wings, letting the wind guide her over the cars and night-walking humans. The Queen of Diamonds was brilliant in the dark, neon pink and white, blinding even from the mile-long distance.

To be honest, she had no idea where to start. A not-so-tall and dark and handsome hedgehog boy could be anywhere, blending with the night. Yes, she was a treasure hunter (and thief, when the moment called for it) and she could find anything with even the smallest of hints and evidence. She knew she would find this boy, she had no doubts about it.

It's just that she's never hunted a person before. A person moves. Treasure does not.

. . . Then she felt it. Felt him.

Rouge has no Chaos in her veins (like Sonic and Knuckles do): she's mortal—plain and boring, as she calls herself. But she could still feel it. She could feel the energy like she could sense someone staring at her from the distance. Like feeling an evil presence in a room—only Chaos isn't evil.

She followed the invisible tug. It led her outside the city, to a woodland-y spot where trees made it darker than it was and the stars could actually be seen.

She flew for a good while and eventually landed, elegant and perfect as a little fairy, folding her wings up. She walked the rest of the way.

She eyes were familiar with the dark, so it wasn't difficult to spot him, despite his dark fur. He was curled up beside a tree, rocking back and forth slowly for comfort. Her excellent ears heard him doing breathing exercises.

Rouge walked a slow, calm stride so he would be aware of her presence and not run away in terror. He never moved. She squatted beside him, hands on her knees.

"Hi," she whispered, being as gentle as she knew how.

He peeked out from his cocoon, ruby eyes sparkling. Rouge was in love. His eyes are red! The sepia photograph Agent Stone had given her? Absolute trash compared to how beautiful he actually is.

She went for a motherly approach. "Are you lost?"

"Yes" came out choked. It broke her heart.

". . . First time?" She knew what that was like. She'd cried the first night she spent on Earth, curled up in a box in some dark alley.

The boy nodded, rubbing his wet nose on his glove. "I didn't . . . I didn't know . . . there were others."

His accent. Rouge wanted to squeeze him in a hug.

She was honest, shrugging. "I didn't, either. I've been here awhile. This is a first." It was exhilarating to find one of her kind. The hole in her chest called loneliness melted away, just a bit.

There was a pause. He sniffled, then whispered, "You're a friend of Lee's. I smell him on you."

"Yes."

"He sent you." It wasn't a question.

"He did."

"He's kind. I don't know many humans like that." Another pause. "But I'm not going back. The Doctor is a villain."

"You can stay with me" left her lips before she got the chance to think about it. Her heart skipped.

". . . Thank you."

"Of course, sugar. We Mobians gotta stick together, right? Earth's a crazy place full of crazy creatures."

She stood, brushing off her knees. She held out her hand for him to take, which he slowly did, rising. Standing, she could see he was several inches smaller than she was, excluding her heels. And he seemed so young; to say he might be sixteen was pushing it.

"I'm . . ." She paused, for her name was sacred to her. A name useless parents gave her but a powerful name to the humans, a fierce Greek god. The hunter, the queen, of which she is both.

"I'm Diana," she finally said. He could have it. Why not? "But please call me Rouge."

The handsome hedgehog took her hand, fell to a knee, and kissed her knuckles. She wanted to melt. Queen, indeed.

"I am Terios," he whispered, "but call me Shadow."

She could feel him shaking just in that lovely gesture, shaking as he stood and let go of her hand. So alone, so afraid of this world. She didn't blame him. She'd been afraid, too.

"You'll be all right, Shadow," she promised. "I'm not going to let anything happen to you as long as it's in my power."

He thanked her again, quietly, wiping his nose on his glove again.

". . . It's a bit of a walk to my place. May I carry you?"

He flinched at such a notion. At such boldness. Rouge knew it was forward; they'd just met. But he relaxed—seemed relieved, even—and held out his arms, a sad child awaiting their mother to hold them. Rouge scooped him up (he scarily weighed almost nothing) and kicked off the ground, taking off. He squealed and buried his face in her neck, squeezing harder.

Her heart rattled the bars of her rib cage, whooping. Heat licked the back of her neck and the red roses of blush bloomed on her cheeks.

How dare she fall in love at first sight! How dare she find him adorable!

. . . Well, he was warm. And soft. And he was hugging her. And he smelt nice; a hint of cinnamon, no doubt from Agent Stone.

So she let her heart take the wheel. Why not?

They will probably be dead in three days, anyway.

Sixty-one hours remain.