Chapter Text
Sonic's new job is weird, to put it mildly.
It's an hour drive into the woods, in a nondescript warehouse. He kits up in a protective suit in a locker room, collects his heavy cart of cleaning supplies and heads down into this gargantuan, real life sci-fi underground complex with, like, two hundred floors. He's getting paid reeeal nice to not look too hard at what's going on down here. He works in surgery suites and strange cells down long, white hallways illuminated by just as white, blinding fluorescent lights.
He cleans a lot of blood. Sonic's first day was something of a shock, even with prior warning.
He signed the non-disclosure agreements, though. Sonic follows procedure and dissolves greasy pieces of organs(?) in an acidic solution, he sprays bloodied water and... other fluids into the drains on the floor with his hose. Sometimes he just has to clean a communal area, no blood, just napkins and crumbs.
He doesn't ask questions. There's a no questions policy.
The scientists don't care about anything but their science, as far as Sonic can tell. Real nerdy lab coat types. They must not be allowed to accessorize much, because not a single one of them has dyed hair or piercings or tattoos. That or they're all a bunch of squares. The other janitors are disallowed from conversing, being able to talk to scientists is a loophole he noticed in the contract. It doesn't matter, Sonic isn't there to socialize, even if he wants to. He's there to do a job and go home when he's done.
He's two weeks in when something takes notice of him.
The janitors get two breaks in their nine hour shifts. They're thirty minutes long each, and Sonic usually spends them in the break room on the fifth floor bored, wishing someone would talk to him, or not scoff or ignore him when he tries to strike up a conversation. This time, he eats his "lunch" (it's 1:30am) in the break room on the fifteenth floor. He rationalized it like this: maybe the guys down here aren't as uptight.
Well, Sonic was wrong. The guys down here are just as uptight, if not even moreso. They glare at him like he's not supposed to be there, and maybe he isn't, with his various sparkly piercings and brightly dyed blue curls. Maybe they're looking at his roots? He needs to bleach those and redye it all soon, even if it's destroying his hair texture. Whatever. It's fun, these eggheads don't know what's up.
He keeps the easily removable helmet of his suit on his lap as he scarfs down the bagels and orange he brought. He'd kill for pizza or a chili dog right about now, but he's who knows how many feet underground and at least thirty miles from civilization. They don't do delivery here. Or cell reception. Or WiFi.
Sonic is playing a dumb mobile game he doesn't need data to access with ten minutes left on his break when the hairs on the back of his neck start to rise.
He glances around. There's no one else in the room, but he feels eyes on him and with them comes a creeping sense of anxiety and dread. Nobody is at the plastic tables or chairs. There's not a soul getting coffee or using the vending machine. Sonic is alone. He wonders if the monotony and strange ambiance of this place is getting to him.
It's when he looks at the vent at the bottom of the wall kitty corner to his seat that his heart falls like a stone.
There are... fingers. Poking through the slats. Three of them are a deep grey black, the center two are vibrant red, and each is tipped with an obsidian talon that reminds Sonic of a velociraptor fossil. The second he sees them, they vanish back into the darkness of the air circulation system, and he hears a scuffle before the sensation of being watched disappears.
What in the name of fuck was that? No, actually, what was that? He knows that whoever runs this joint is doing freaky shit down here, but unless he somehow took hallucinogenics or he's having some kind of mental issue he's never experienced before, that was real. He just saw a creepy ass hand in the fucking vent. Hell no.
Sonic is never taking his lunch on floor fifteen ever again. He goes back to work seven minutes early.
He heads home that day exhausted and anxious (why were there eyeballs on the floor of one of the rooms he had to clean? Why were there so many of them? He's not allowed to ask). Muscles aching and wishing he was home already, Sonic slumps in his janky pickup truck and as he does, he gets that hair-raising-being-watched feeling again.
Sitting up ramrod straight, Sonic looks around. The passenger seat, the back, and the trunk of his truck all appear empty. There's nothing around him but other cars, the dawn beginning to cast light upon the lot.
There's no way whatever the weird hand belonged to got outside- there are like three security checkpoints just on the first floor. Sonic is alone, he has nothing to be afraid of.
So why is he scared?
Shaking it off, he turns his truck on and exits the lot faster than he maybe should. The feeling does not dissipate until he gets home, at which point it leaves so quickly Sonic wonders why he was even anxious in the first place.
The following night, Sonic goes to work, and the second he's alone on the 41st floor and making his way to the room he'd been paged to clean, he senses it again.
Sonic casts his gaze all around. He sees nothing but white walls and bright lights and steel doors. There's the occasional vent near the floor and on the ceiling, but there aren't any nearby-
There is one above his head.
Sonic briefly locks eyes with something crimson and glowing that skitters away the second he sees it.
Yelping in shock, "Nope, fuck that!" Sonic picks up the pace. The feeling leaves, but his heart is pounding and sweat beads under his protective suit. He'd get out of here right that moment if he hadn't signed a contract and didn't really, really need the money. He should've bailed the second he saw the creepy hand, but he's stuck between a rock and a hard place.
He can't bail, not unless he wants to go hungry while job searching again.
Sonic takes calming breaths and enters the room designated on the tablet provided for him that guides him through his awful facility. Yet another bloodsoaked room.
When he's halfway through, he starts feeling nervous and stared at. There's only one vent in the room and it's at foot level. He can't see anything in the darkness and refuses to crouch to view it better, but Sonic can't stop looking at it, just in case.
There are no signs of life in the next thirty minutes he spends in that room, but the sensation never leaves.
The next day, Sonic learns some things that make him reconsider this job for the hundredth time.
On his second break on the fifth floor, he's a million times more comfortable because there's another person in the room. A scientist who probably won't talk to him, so Sonic doesn't bother. Except having another person around apparently doesn't matter.
The feeling returns and fuck, it's really bad, his skin is crawling. Sonic instantly looks to the other person in the room- young white guy, blonde, blue eyes, real babyface. He'd probably survive in a horror movie. Sonic asks, "Do you feel that?"
To his shock, the guy turns and says, "Oh- hey! Shadow!"
What? Sonic asks this aloud. "What?"
"He was right behind you. We're gonna have to report this, he gets interested in shiny things. Come with me," the dude gestures as if to say 'Hurry up', like this isn't extremely abrupt. Sonic is absorbing this vague information and trying not to freak out about the implications of those sentences.
"I'm sorry, who was behind me?"
"You'll find out, just come on. I doubt they'll discipline you for this, it happens sometimes," the guy says. "Seriously, the faster we do this the better."
That answers like none of his one thousand questions. He's already neck deep in this shit. Might as well wade deeper. Sonic gets up and puts his helmet back on, looking at the young man's nametag. Miles Prower. Is his name an intentional pun?
"Nice to meet you, Miles. Wish it was under better circumstances."
"I'm just doing my job," says Miles. "And call me Tails. No one calls me Miles."
Tails it is, then. Sonic can't judge a dude for a weird nickname. "Is there a story behind that?"
"Yeah, but you don't have the clearance to hear it. Let's go."
Tails takes him to floor one hundred and fucking seventy eight, way deeper than Sonic has ever gone before. He swears he can feel the pressure in his ears the farther they go. The ride is like ten whole minutes. He steps out of the elevator into a different world.
How in the hell did they grow an entire tropical jungle like a bajillion feet underground? It's steamy and smells like soil and plants, there are birds and butterflies and all that shit. Tails steps forward onto a gravel path leading deeper like this is no big deal. Sonic is gawking. He supposes it's the same as making an environment in a zoo, but it's still incredible. The lights on the high ceiling aren't as harsh through the leaves of the trees. He's broken out of it by Tails speaking and the return of the being watched feeling. Sonic scrambles to catch up.
"So, you were probably pretty desperate for cash?"
"Huh?"
"The job. Usually people take it 'cause they don't have many other options. That or you're an ex-con."
Sonic frowns. It's not really this kid's business. He doesn't answer. Tails looks at him and says, "Sorry, just trying to make conversation."
"We can't talk about the thing that's following me?"
"Shadow isn't a thing, he's an entity, and it'd be better if Amy explained anyways," Tails looks around. "Shadow, I know you're listening. Stop trying to creep us out, it's not working."
"Speak for yourself, man," Sonic mumbles. "This is majorly creepy."
From the foliage, there is a shockingly human-sounding and shockingly much too close laugh. It's deep, charming in a moviestar way if not for the context Sonic is hearing it in. The voice kind of giggle-snorts, and the thick undergrowth two feet away rustles.
Sonic shrieks, high pitched and undignified as he scurries away, and Tails sighs.
"You're just encouraging him."
"I'm sorry? I'm encouraging him?"
"Yeah. The more you freak out the more he'll want to freak you out. Just relax and walk with me and you'll be fine."
"Am I in danger?"
"Probably not."
"That's very comforting, thank you Tails," Sonic says sarcastically, as they round a bend and a burbling creek with sparkling, clear water comes into view. A well maintained wooden bridge crosses over it, and a short distance away, there's a wall with another steel door. "Why's there a jungle down here? What even is the point of all this? I thought you guys did experiments?"
"I'm gonna pretend like I didn't hear you say that so I don't have to report you," Tails says. "You're obviously new, but you should know about asking those kinds of questions."
"...Right."
Tails presses a buzzer on an intercom next to the door and says, "Miss Rose, this is Miles Prower. If you're not busy, we have a new Shadow case."
There's a long pause and a voice answers from the speaker. "The door is unlocked. Come in."
They do. The room is yet another surprise- pink walls, heart shaped everything all over the place, a couch and chairs and a table with books like a therapist's office, also pink, and Miss Rose herself at a computer behind a modern desk (this too, is pink). Sonic steps inside and the feeling of being watched vanishes before it returns tenfold.
"Shadow, stop that," Amy says, and the feeling lessens but doesn't disappear.
"You're no fun," says a low, masculine voice from right behind Sonic. He spins around with a gasp, but nothing is there.
"You, janitor, come sit," Amy says, like nothing just happened. "Tails, you can go."
"Yup. Later, Amy," Tails looks to Sonic, who is still recovering from his miniature heart attack. "It was nice to meet you, whatever your name is. Good luck."
"Thanks? And my name is Sonic."
"Cool. Good luck, Sonic," Tails says, and takes his leave. Sonic makes his way to the plush chair in front of Miss Rose's desk. He sits, looking around for vents. He takes his helmet off because it feels polite, he's not sure what the protocol is here.
Amy is probably five to ten years older than Sonic if he had to guess, in a black and white three piece suit, straight dark hair cut in a neat bob that frames her face. Brown skin a few shades darker than his own, neatly trimmed nails painted as pink as the rest of her room. Her eyes are an enchanting umber, and Sonic could easily see himself getting lost in them were she not his superior at a workplace he's incredibly unsure about.
"-about occurrences like this."
"Sorry, what?" shit, he should've been paying attention. The ADHD mindwipe that happens every five seconds in his brain is going to get him in trouble again.
Amy raises a brow at him. "I said, you can calm down. There's no need to be worried about occurrences like this."
"Yeah, that's kinda what Tails said," Sonic glances around the room. "Can you just explain to me what this guy who's creeping on me is? I saw a... hand... coming out of a vent."
"Remember that what you hear in this facility does not leave this facility," Amy says, and looks at him pointedly. Sonic nods, nervous. "Shadow is an abnormal entity. He's intelligent but he's not human."
"Yeah, I kinda figured that out. Why is he bugging me?"
"Who knows? He doesn't do things for reasons that we understand," Amy says this like it's normal. "Don't try to hurt him, he's unkillable. The less you react to him, the less interested he'll be. He can't be contained, the best thing to do is not give him attention. I'll give you a pamphlet on his behaviors, you read it, you'll sign a few agreements, and you'll be fine. Okay, Sonic?"
"I'm sorry, I'm kinda stuck on the 'unkillable and can't be contained' part," he says, reeling. "How- how does that work? Where'd he come from?"
Amy taps a finger against her desk. "That's strike one. Ask me anything else and you're liable to be let go."
"R-Right. What'd you say about a pamphlet?"
"Don't read it," says the deep, masculine voice from literally right behind him. Sonic yells and spins around in his chair, and... still nothing.
When he refocuses on Amy, she's frowning with her fingers touching her temple. She says, "You're going to need to get better about reacting to him."
"How can I not react?! The dude keeps jumpscaring me!" there's another giggle and Sonic doesn't turn this time, but he does startle. He says, stiff in his chair and fully aware that he's not supposed to be encouraging interaction, "Shadow, man, you're an asshole."
"Mhm, hm," there's a breathy laugh. The voice whispers right next to Sonic's head, so quiet it's almost inaudible, "I want to play with you."
Sonic resists the urge to shrink in terror. Amy's perfectly manicured eyebrows raise very slowly as she looks at a point just past his shoulder. She says, "Did you just say what I think you said?"
The hair-raising feeling vanishes. Sonic slowly turns his head- nothing there but an overwhelmingly pink room. He's shaking and his voice is unsteady when he says, "Can I just read the thing and sign stuff and get out of here?"
As he's driving home that night, Sonic has nothing to do but think.
He sure wasn't expecting the creature harassing him to be a three and a half foot tall furry. When he looked at the picture and the physical description, he bit back a stupid comment about not needing to be afraid of someone's fursona. It's hard to be intimidated by the big red eyes he saw in the photo. Apparently Shadow's closest DNA relative is some ancient, extinct species of proto-hedgehog. He's greyish black and red and tan furred and bipedal. He has a funny tuft of white fluff on his chest and what appear to be spines surrounding his face, a pointy nose, and a disinterested frown.
The other information both decreases and increases his fear. Shadow likes coffee beans and lavender, doesn't like getting his fur wet, and when he's not skittering through the vents and/or acting like a weirdo, you can sometimes find him on the 32nd floor reading in the archives.
So he's an oddball in the form of an immortal anthropomorphic proto-hedgehog who just enjoys bothering people and gives it up when his victims don't care, very cool. He doesn't hurt anyone, even though he has those absolutely massive claws.
He chooses to put off a certain pheromone that induces fear in humans for his own entertainment. He doesn't need to, Sonic is terrified of his ability to teleport without artificially induced anxiety making his heart feel like it's going to explode. He has a lot of messed up stuff he can do. There was a list (he can summon radioactive spears of energy? What?), and it ended with "These are a fraction of his abilities".
Here's the thing: it was repeated more than once that Shadow is some creature of great power, but he just fucks around and utilizes the facilities free of charge because no one can stop him. He's harmless as far as anyone knows. Sometimes he'll get interested in a specific person, usually someone who isn't a scientist (guards, electricians, janitors, always men) and try to scare them, they go to Amy and get the Shadow rundown and learn to ignore him, and everything goes back to normal after a week or two.
That's fine. Sonic can survive a week or two and get over it. Yeah, he's kind of inherently afraid of Shadow in the same way any sane person would be afraid of a honey badger with superpowers, but it's fine. It's cool. It's whatever!
But, uh. "I want to play with you". What did he mean by that?
Work the next day is relatively normal ("normal", AKA cleaning more blood and chunks of meat and in one room, a viscous, iridescent purple fluid that only comes away when Sonic uses a vinegar based solution). He sees hide nor hair of Shadow for most of his shift, and he's wondering when the guy is going to show up and try to bother him.
It happens when he's got three hours left on the clock, hosing inexplicable greenish goop out of the gaps in a tiled floor. That oh so familiar sensation of his skin prickling and his hair raising returns, accompanied by a pit of dread and anxiety in his stomach.
The pamphlet recommended breathing exercises. Sonic figures those would probably do him some good right now. He swallows down his fear as best he can, remembering that Shadow is doing this by way of some sort of airborne chemical, he has no reason to be afraid.
The feeling intensifies by a hundredfold and Sonic drops his hose instinctually, a moment from sprinting out the door when the sudden terror fades to nothing. He takes several shaky breaths and does something stupid.
"You're such a jerk, man," he says, voice trembling. "What do you want from me?"
A laugh. Shadow sounds extremely normal for what he is. From a vent near the floor, he says, "Haha, hm. Things."
"Things? Wow, very specific. We got a real novelist over here," Sonic shouldn't be talking to him, but this weirdo is the only one who is offering him any kind of socialization or break from the nothingness that is this job. He picks the hose back up and resumes spraying gunk into the drain.
"I doubt you'd want to know, human," Shadow says, ominously. "Your kind are sensitive."
"Yeah, no shit, buddy. Not all of us are immortal hedgehogs," Sonic stops, because there's a weird trill from the vent. It sounds kind of like birdsong, but not from any bird he's ever heard. A short, rising and falling high pitch that's cut off by a shuffling noise. "The hell was that?"
"You read the pamphlet and spoke to Amy, but you're still talking to me," Shadow says, a complete non sequitur. "Are you an idiot?"
"Hey, jackass. You're the one who started it," Sonic turns his hose off, leans down to scrub some really persistent goo out from the grout with his brush, and this is when he makes eye contact with the vent at floor level.
Two red, glowing irises watch him from behind the slats in the darkness. Shadow says, "Hello," soft and quiet like he's breathless. "Take your helmet off."
"What? No. Weirdo."
"I want to see your face," Shadow's fingers creep through the gaps in the vent cover, claws scraping on the metal. The fear sets in Sonic's heart again, and this time he's not sure if it's his own or induced by Shadow.
He reminds himself that Shadow is a huggable looking, pint sized furball (who can teleport and can't die and jesus, his talons seem sharp). Sonic says, "You can keep dreaming, little man, I'm trying to work here."
"I'm always dreaming about you."
Sonic stops dead in his tracks, because... is this dude flirting with him? Badly? This bizarre furry who is two and a half feet shorter than Sonic is making moves on him? What?
Sonic scrubs harder. "I don't even know what to say to that."
Another strange trill. The multicolored fingers grip the vent covers so tight they creak and bend under the pressure. Shadow says, rough and raspy, "Let me see you."
"No. I read the pamphlet. I know you don't touch anyone. You can't do shit to me," Sonic says, way too confident.
Shadow laughs, but it's more like a bark. He says, "The pamphlet doesn't dictate my actions," and tears the vent cover from the wall with a hideous metallic screech.
Sonic scrambles back and up, braced against his cart as Shadow emerges, and wait why was he afraid again? The little guy is cute. You could make a plushie out of him, easily.
Shadow disappears and reappears atop the cleaning cart inches from Sonic's shielded face, grabbing the base of his helmet and popping the seals with his claws.
Right, that's why Sonic was afraid.
He fights Shadow for the headpiece, but it's a futile effort. The hedgehog-thing yanks it off his head and tosses it to the side somewhere- he's incredibly strong. He grips Sonic by the chin, those dangerous claws threatening to pierce his flesh, and he whispers, "There you are."
"I'm gonna have to report this-"
"You won't," Shadow says. "I'll rat you out for talking to me. You'll be disclipined for not following protocol."
"You're a little shit," Sonic hisses. "Anyone ever tell you that?"
"Plenty," Shadow grins. His teeth are sharp, his eyes drop down to Sonic's lips. "Anyone ever tell you you're handsome?"
"Yeah, my mom loves to. Let me go, I'm on the clock."
"And if I don't want to?"
Sonic has no idea what he can do to get this tiny, infatuated, immortal furry to let him be. So, he asks: "What can I do to make you go away?"
"Nothing. But I'll leave for today if you kiss me."
...He's serious. He's dead fucking serious. Sonic blinks at him in shock, and Shadow leans closer, his claws digging into skin.
"What would happen if I said no?"
"I'll terrorize you for the rest of your shift," Shadow's face is smug, like he's won or something. Maybe he has.
Sonic weighs his options. Give the creepy furry a peck on the cheek or be terrified for the next three hours? The choice is obvious. He justifies it like this: Shadow may not be human, but he's an adult and he passes the Harkness test. It could be so much worse.
Sonic leans close, gives Shadow the world's briefest brush of his lips against the soft, tawny fur of his muzzle, and pulls back as far as the hedgehog's fingers will allow him to go (so, like, five inches). He has no idea how to feel about how dilated Shadow's pupils are, or his wagging tail, or the miniscule rumbling noise coming from his chest.
"Again. On the lips."
"Dude, no. You said you'd let me go if I gave you a kiss and I did," Sonic is really hoping that works, he already went way too far with the cheek smooch. What is he doing? How did his life come to this?
Shadow does let him go, but not before gifting Sonic a return kiss on the tip of his nose. Putting a hand over his mouth bashfully, Shadow giggle-snorts and disappears without another word.
Sonic stands there for a few minutes, staring at a green-spattered wall before he retrieves his helmet and resumes cleaning.
Dude, he just fucked up so bad. Also, how does he explain the vent cover?