Brothers in Arms

Shadow: Initial Interactions

"And you're sure the Dark Arms can not trouble Mobius without outside assistance? That their powers are impotent while alone?" The Commander questions, hands clasped in a serious manner on the conference table as he sits in a large group of high-ranking people.

"Yes, I am sure," Eclipse sighs, and--despite myself--I understand why. We've been standing here for over three hours just so top G.U.N. officials can ask the same questions five different ways. I know cross-examination is important, but, Chaos, I have a life, and this is not what I want to spend it doing. Glancing over to Omega, I see that he's still in his rigid position, and I wish that I could shut down my mind while leaving my body awake, too.

I silently curse the fact Eclipse wasn't injured enough to warrant immediate treatment, feeling that, since I'd still be mad if I had been the one 'not sufficiently in danger of permanent bodily harm,' I'm not specifically wishing him pain. After all, I was quite disappointed to find out I didn't have a concussion from my time spent as a landing pad, the likes of which would have gotten me out of this ordeal. All in all, it's a singular distinction and one no one but me knows about, but I'm just bored enough to take the time to make it.

As it is, Rouge made her excuses while the top consultants of the Commander were gathering, and Omega is doing nothing but recording the conversation for later review. Unfortunately, Eclipse and I don't have the luxury of not listening--Eclipse because he is being questioned, me because I have to verify what Eclipse is saying.

"Shadow?" Asks the Commander, giving me a meaningful glance, and I reluctantly reach out to Eclipse's mind to make sure he isn't lying, making sure to stay in my half-brother's subconscious, so he can't influence my thoughts without me noticing. As I'm shuffling through Eclipse's memories of the Dark Arms--which can't, incidentally, use any of their powers without a Black Arm host--my half-brother risks a brief moment of raw mental contact between his mind and mine, which makes me twitch in surprise.

You know, for a military set-up, your organization is quite uneventfully monotonous. I do not see how you can stand doing this all of the time, he thinks, sending the thought my way. At first, I'm wary to see if he'll attack me, but he doesn't and instead waits for a reply. Resigning myself to the fact one thought can't hurt too much, I respond.

This isn't exactly what I do everyday. Normally, I'm in training or working on an assignment. I don't think I've ever spent this long on a mission report. A slight lull follows as we both expect the other to keep talking. Eclipse's silence, though short, gives me the opportunity to bring up something odd I've noticed over these past few hours. Casting about for a way to start my sentence, I say, So, um, is there a reason you never use contractions? I haven't heard you use a single one all this time, even a simple one. I mean...it's kind of unusual. A sense of miffed surprise flows through the hivemind from Eclipse.

I just do not like them. This language is already hard enough to understand without slurring words to save a minuscule amount of time.

You find it hard to understand English?

You do not?

I never have.

Well, congratulations, he replies, and I can practically feel the included eye roll. You are a native speaker. At any rate, I do not have to use contractions if I do not want to.

Doesn't mean you shouldn't. A brief silence follows my sentence, and Eclipse responds suspiciously after a few moments.

...are you trying to antagonize me?

No. I'm just telling that what you're doing is weird and that your interactions would go a lot more smoothly if you stopped speaking like you're writing a formal essay.