Last Rights

Amy arrived early enough to Rouge’s event to not miss anything important and late enough to avoid having to talk to irritated candidate beforehand. Frankly, perfect timing and she’d really need to remember this for later. That is, if Rouge didn’t punish her too much for her tardiness. Steeling herself, Amy shouldered her camera bag, exited Bruno’s (Shadow’s?) car, and entered the crowded parking lot.

She still couldn’t really believe the way she came by her equipment. Bruno had brought Amy to the back of a strip mall near the union hall where Rouge was making an appearance. Her initial anxiety for the sudden deviation was quelled when she spotted the Lexus she’d spent a strange amount of time in recently.

Nicole exited her vehicle as they approached and, barely waiting for Bruno’s fancy car to come to a stop, passed Amy’s bag to her through the rolled down window. “How did you get this?” Amy asked, shock overriding any and all manners she possessed.

“Is everything you need there?” Nicole ignored her question.

Frowning and boiling in a sea of speculation as to how Nicole got into her apartment, Amy opened her camera bag and found it fully and properly stocked. “I- Y-Yes, everything is here. Thank you.” Money magic, her brain offered. Nicole was some sort of upper-class wizard who could just make things appear. “My roommate let you in?”

Oh shit! She’d left Sonic on read the night before. Amy cringed so hard her stomach cramped. He’d probably been very disappointed when she wasn’t home last night. God, he probably thought she hated or was hiding from him. She was so stupid for getting distracted by Shadow’s arrival.

Nicole studied her face for a moment, probably misattributing Amy’s pained grimace. “Mr. Kintobor’s family owns a controlling share in the private equity fund that wholly owns the parent of the property management company that operates your apartment complex. I made a few calls and the gentleman on property let me into your domicile.”

“Oh.” Amy wasn’t sure what else to say. Mr. Otto seemed like such a nice old man…but she didn’t really like that he’d just let people into Amy’s apartment. ”Thank you very much.” She hugged her bag defensively and tried to not think about Nicole going through her things. It wasn’t so much Nicole in particular that bothered her, just the notion in general of her possessions being rifled through.

“You are quite welcome. Please have a pleasant day, Ms. Rose.” The lynx nodded and then the window was sliding up and the car was moving again.

The shutter clicked rapidly as Rouge stood above them all, answering questions from a raised dais like some prophesized maven. The byzantium of her nails cut sharp arcs through the air as she gesticulated, her matching pantsuit dark like rich wine against her white fur. Rouge would not wear black, but she had to hint at the sobriety of the occasion.

Afterall, apparently, Amy had DIED on Saturday night.

“I will not be commenting on an ongoing investigation.” Rouge answered yet another question about the so-called Martyr of the River (who had to be Amy, right?). “I have the utmost faith in our great City’s Public Health officials and Law Enforcement officers, and I beg everyone to give a thought to those still suffering due to Saturday night’s events.” She pointed at a different journalist.

Mortified seemed like too bland a word to describe the degree of horror Amy experienced when reading that morning’s social media discourse.

The description of the initiating Omega for the Saturday riot kept changing – green tenrec, purple groundhog, scarlet beaver – but the rumor that really took hold was that the Omega had been taken to City General and been pronounced dead. And so the legend of the Martyr of the River was born and gained tractions and ever greater facets of fiction with every share, like, and retwit.

A body?

A name?

Any evidence at all?

Wholly unnecessary.

The internet was enthralled by the tragic story of a fictional character. A-at least that meant no one was looking for her…which was probably for the best. Amy felt the urge to correct the misconception, but that would expose her to untold levels of attention, and she’d sooner jump off a bridge.

“It is well known that the City and its jurisdictions trail much of the civilized world in how its legal system treats Alphas.” Amy couldn’t help rolling her eyes behind her viewfinder. Rouge’s expression was well-schooled, but Amy caught to the slight tightening of her smile. “Under your administration, would the City finally cover the cost gap when the inciting Omega in a rut riot is unable to pay proper restitution to those affected by their negligence?”

In contrast to much of public opinion, the Alpha Rights Activists had been dismissive of the elusive Omega and instead focusing on the high number of Alphas arrested at the festival, a handful of whom remained in police custody. A spokesperson for the CPD claimed that was due to ongoing treatment for injuries sustained during the riot and that all would be released shortly, but that only served as proof of some sort of convoluted conspiracy to bury the ‘truth’.

“I will remind you and everyone listening that even though details are scarce,” Rouge kept her voice level and full of authority, “current reporting indicates that a member of our community, a citizen of our City died on Saturday.” Amy winched at the emphasis. This felt like a lie, like Rouge was lying for her. “They had a life and friends and a family. All of our thoughts and prayers should be with them in this tragic time, not on who is going to pay for a torn marquee or broken table leg.”

Amy swallowed. She reached up and pressed the fabric encircling her neck against her snout and drew in a deep breath.

Wound loosely around Amy’s neck was a red and ridiculously soft scarf. It served as a nice barrier between her neck and the autumnal cold, but its value was far greater than that. It carried Shadow’s scent, his normal scent at least, and Amy would sooner part with her own legs than it.

That morning as they ate together, Shadow had still smelled off. Amy knew it was whatever medicine he’d taken to delay his rut, but wild parts of her wanted to flare her quills and bare her teeth at the interloper who dared look like her mate. Giving her the scarf had seemed like a passing fancy, but as they stood by his front door and Shadow wrapped it gently around her, the flood of calm that engulfed her when she smelled him on it was amazing.

Really, that thin length of cloth was most of what was holding Amy together in the moment. It was like super-Prozac or something and Amy was hitting it hard. Her top priority had become rubbing the scarf all over Shadow the absolute next moment she saw him, because the thought of the scarf losing his scent made her want to cry.

Amy grimaced, lowering her camera. No matter how eager her body seemed to throw itself at Shadow, she had to resist. A tall order that…But until she was sure she wanted the same things as her body, she had to resist.

But could she? Shadow’s rut was soon. Just the thought alone sent goose prickles all along under her fur. Maybe his strange scent was his pre-rut pheromones expressing themselves? She’d heard plenty of stories about how Omegas could detect and evade rutting Alphas just based on their pre-rut aromas…but shouldn’t Shadow’s be attractive to her?

She shouldn’t be thinking about this. She was working right now.

You’re a camera, not a person. Camera. Ca-me-ra. Certainly not a person and definitely not an Omega. Amy repeated the mantra to herself whenever her thoughts began to wander to Shadow or her own troubles. She had to prove she belonged where Rouge had put her. She had to prove she was more than her biology.

Amy sighed. When would it end? When would she be good enough to stop worrying? Was it possible to be good enough at all?

“That being said, no,” Rouge continued, “I will not support governmental subsidization of poor behavior from Alphas. That would disincentivize Alphas participating in riots from attempting to control themselves. Rut riots are a public health concern much like disease outbreaks or flooding, not an opportunity to indulge in violence and defraud the government.” Her gathered supporters cheered and Amy swiveled to get reaction shots.

Despite not having a face or name to tie the epithet to, the Martyr (and, she guessed, technically Amy herself) had become the focal point of a growing population online who saw the (alleged) death as the last straw.

Every law or custom that discriminated against Omegas or favored Alphas was on the chopping block. As exciting as it was to see some of the stories she’d read on the OO forums hit the public discourse, Amy wanted nothing to do with it. The opinion of the public tended to shift like the tide and she didn’t want to get swept out to sea.

After the fervor died down, Rouge pointed at another press member. “Your opponent Geoffrey St. John-“ The howler monkey began.

“I am well aware of the identity of my opponent.” The gathered crowd laughed at Rouge’s interruption. Was it better or worse that Rouge’s rude demeanor wasn’t a mask?

“Ah, yes, I mean…” The journalist from an online tabloid stammered, “He’s stated that this weekend’s riot was a tragic event-“

“He’s right. It was.” Rouge interrupted again. “Do you have a question? Or are you just trying to exposit?”

“Uh, yes, I do, I mean- Candidate St. John said that would not have occurred if Omegas were given proper protective spaces.”

“You do know what a question is, right?” The crowd laughed. Amy didn’t really like Rouge’s bullying, but she understood its purpose. At the end of the day, people wanted a strong, confident leader. A little brashness was fine when directed at people considered fair-game like the media. If they couldn’t take a hit, they needed to get out of the game, Rouge always said.

“Do you support his position?!” The monkey yelled, flustered. There was more laughter because it was a silly question. Of course, Rouge didn’t support her opponent’s position, everyone knew that by now. Amy suspected the journalist had a better question prepared, but Rouge goaded him into simplifying it to the point of ridiculousness.

Once the crowd settled again, Rouge answered, derision gilding the edges of her words. “If my opponent is suggesting that Omegas be barred from public spaces, I would ask why not Alphas instead? Are they not the ones causing the actual violence and property damage? Are they not the rioters?”

The monkey jumped at the opportunity to ask a follow-up. “You would prohibit Alpha’s from public spaces then?”

“No.” Rouge said emphatically. “I wouldn’t bar anyone from participating in the vibrant life of our wonderful city. The Off-Cycle Heat Crisis is a matter of public health and safety.” Rouge spread her arms and wings as if to say obviously! “As recently as the beginning of this year, rut riots were nearly unheard of!” She gripped the lectern. “Before this year there had been a total of three in the last decade! Clearly,” She flared her eyes wide as her tone calmed, “there are other factors at play.”

Like Starline Pharmaceuticals, Amy finished in her head. She’d almost connected the dots herself before Dr. Quack confirmed everything. It was both a relief to have an answer to what had been wrong with her, but also terrifying to learn the scope of the violation. Amy hadn’t been special, which was a secondary relief, every Omega had been poisoned.

Now, though, she knew where an entire warehouse of those tainted drugs were…but she wanted to talk to Liam first before passing the information along. He didn’t deserve to get caught up in this mess and Amy wanted to warn him before his place of work became a crime scene.

“Then you agree with the report recently released by Kintobor Life Sciences accusing Starline Pharmaceuticals of artificially creating the current crisis by spreading malicious drugs amongst the city’s Omega populace via the public insurance system?” The reporter rushed his words out in an attempt to push his luck further.

“As I have already said,” Rouge sighed as if the question had been asked a million times, ”I will not be commenting on an ongoing investigation. However, I suggest you ask my opponent about that. I am not an expert on the internal intricacies of the public health department, but he, until a few months ago,” she smiled knowingly, “was.”

The crowd erupted into uproarious tumult. The laughter was gone, replaced with outrage and anger. Amy’s ears pinned back at the din and her heart rate spiked. She clutched her camera tightly, trying to fade away.

But the noise was overwhelming. With one hand, Amy pulled up her Shadow’s scarf once more, wrapping it tighter against her neck. There were too many people near, too many scents. Shadow wanted her to cover her Claim gland. It belonged to him, after all.

She belonged to him.

Amy retreated from the crowd to the far edges of the parking lot of the Union meeting hall. She bumped into the hood of a car and jolted. Turning she found it to be a cop car. And not just any cop car…Her eyes swept over the crowd to where she knew he’d be. Lieutenant Knuckles arched at brow at her from across the raucous crowd, his arms crossed tightly across the crisp black of his uniform.

Shadow wouldn’t like another Alpha looking at her. But what if that Alpha wasn’t into Omegas at all? How was that even possible? What Rouge and Lieutenant Knuckles seemed to have felt wrong to Amy, but in a way that made her wonder if it really wasn’t. Could she feel safe around the stalwart whatever-amor same as she did around Rouge?

Amy swallowed and circled the parking lot, trying to find some angle where she could hide from imagined scrutiny. She did need to thank Lieutenant Knuckles though…she wasn’t really sure what for, but she knew he was involved in someway with Sonic and Silver being release. Amy convinced herself it was better she didn’t know the details.

The question and answer session had pretty much been ended by Rouge’s implication of her opponent’s involvement in current events. The mayoral candidate made no attempt to settle the crowd, letting them rile themselves up while many of them rapidly live-twittered the allegations.

Finally, people settled down enough for Rouge’s amplified voice to be heard over the roar. “Thank you all for coming, but that was all the questions I have time for.” Rouge waved.

As Amy collected some teardown shots of the event – temporary stages were far more complex to construct that she’d assumed – Rouge caught her attention. The bat flared her eyes and brows, jerking her head towards the union building. Amy contemplated playing dumb, but that would just compound the severity of the tongue lashing she was about to receive.

The backstage area for the press conference was a small breakroom. Union slogans and advertisements for community barbeques papered an overcrowded corkboard. An ancient coffee machine sat occupied with a half-filled carafe containing coffee of dubious age. A beat-up refrigerator covered in magnets from far off places hummed obliviously in the corner.

As Amy arrived, she found Espio and Rouge doing a postmortem. What went well, what didn’t. What points she hit, which she missed or forgot. Spotting Amy, Rouge broke away from the conversation while Espio was mid-sentence.

“That’s a nice scarf.” Rouge remarked, her teal eyes considering Amy’s neck with uncomfortable, almost lewd, intensity. Amy flushed and her hand instinctively went to the soft fabric. “It’s a good color on you.” Of course, Rouge recognized Shadow’s scarf, or maybe she could small him on it. No matter the reason, the comment felt like a challenge to Amy’s dignity…even though that was really, really stupid.

Damn it girl, calm down. What was it going to be like when if Shadow did actually Claim her?

“It’s Shadow’s.” Amy confessed.

“I know.” Rouge said flatly. “I gave it to him.” Amy’s flush deepened and her eyes went wide in fright. It’s mine! He gave it to me. You can’t have it! “Calm down.” Rouge smirked at Amy’s defensive reaction. “I don’t want It back. I wouldn’t put it past him to have simply forgotten. That’s not even a Shadow thing. Men are all idiots like that.”

Espio made a stifled noise in his throat. Rouge opened the door to the refrigerator and scrutinized its contents. Finding the selection wanting, she slammed the door closed. “Open a window.” She commanded, pulling out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter from her purse.

Amy looked around. There were some windows set high on a wall, but she wasn’t certain if they would open. Grimacing, she laid her bag on a table and drug a chair over to the wall and climbed up. She felt along the window seal and found a small hand crank. It was stiff with disuse, the union hall being decades old and all. With a grunt, Amy was able to create a small gap for cold air to trickle into the room. Or, hopefully, white smoke to escape out.

“You have two more appointments today.” Espio worked his phones relentlessly. “We really don’t have time to-“

“Espio.” Rouge drew his attention. “Fuck off.” She brandished a fresh package of smokes at him.

He glared at her. “You know what? Fine. But this is it this week.” The chameleon pocketed his phones. “Have your little whatever-the-fuck-this-is,” he gestured at Amy, who tried to make herself small, “but after that you’re going to fucking work and if I catch a single syllable of you bitching out Shadow or that meathead echidna,” He jabbed a sharp finger at Rouge, “that’ll be the last you ever see of me.”

The pair glared at one another through a tense moment of silence. “Deal.” Rouge said, her expression softening. “Now may I please have the room?”

Espio shook his head in disgust, but obediently left, grumbling to himself as he passed Amy. “This fucking woman and her pets.” She kept her eyes trained on the floor. “You are going up on that fucking stage and telling everyone who and what you are, I swear to god.” He hissed at her. “One of these days you’re going to finally be worth all the damn trouble because you’re going win us whole fucking thing with that pretty face and sad, sappy story of yours. You hear me?” Amy remained frozen.

“Espio!” Rouge snapped. “Get. Out.”

The door clicked shut. Amy was relieved Espio was gone, but she did not feel safe alone with Rouge either.

The ex-ADA smacked the bottom of the pack and a pair of white sticks shot out. Pushing the furthest out back in, she started, “So, and tell the truth now,” she plucked out the slowpoke and flipped it, pinching the cigarette between her lips, “did you start the rut riot on Saturday?”

Amy stiffened. How could she know? “D-didn’t you just say-?” Of course, Rouge knew. Rouge knew everything. Everyone seemed to both know Amy caused the riot and was willing to lie for her.

“Cut the crap!” Rouge snapped, aggressively flicking her lighter. “I have negative fucks to give today, Amy. Negative! I’m overdrawn on fucks, Amy. I’m begging and borrow fucks on credit, Amy. I’m going to have loan sharks cutting my fingers off to pay for the fucks I owe them.” Finally, the cigarette tip lit and Rouge tossed the lighter into her purse while taking a long, boarder line desperate drawl.

Rouge leaned against the dented fridge with her eyes closed. Amy stood silently and still, as if Rouge might mistake her for something other than pray if she adopted the qualities of a rock. Her heart pounded in her chest, but what was she really afraid of? Rouge clearly already knew Amy was involved somehow and still said the things she had before the crowd.

“Yes.” Amy squeaked, her throat constricted. “It was me.” Her confession was soft.

Rouge blew out a long, slow breath, the smoke emitting in a continuous stream. “Damn it.” She sighed and her shoulders slumped. “Are you okay?” The teal eyes scrutinizing Amy were suddenly softer.

Amy felt suddenly disarmed and ashamed. “Y-yes. I was with…some friends.”

“And Shadow.” Rouge finished. “The wedding wasn’t enough for you?” The sharpness Amy was accustomed to returned and that was somehow relaxing, messed up as that was. “Had to up the number of combatants? Do you get off on people fighting over you? I ain’t gonna kink shame, but, fucking hell, Amy, maybe just got to a boxing match or something.”

Amy blushed, ashamed. “I-“ She didn’t even know where to begin to defend herself.

Rouge sighed. “I know wasn’t your fault.”

“But it’s my responsibility.” Amy finished for Rouge, ruefully, looking down at the scuffed linoleum.

Rouge chuckled. “Naw, honey.” She waved her lit cigarette at Amy. “You just keep hitting the hard six, don’t cha? For once, it ain’t your fault or responsibility. You’ve been taking that Starline shit, right?”

Amy’s ears perked. “You know about that? I-I mean, yes I have been. But I’m off it now.” She added quickly.

“I know because I can fucking read, Amy.” Rouge stuck the cig back in her mouth and spoke around it. “My major donor’s company accuses a major donor of my opponent’s campaign of poisoning the fucking public, I’m sure as shit gonna be aware of whether Shadow’s got a fucking leg to stand on before someone tries to kick the chair out from under him.”

The imagery made Amy extremely uncomfortable. “I think it’s a good thing what Shadow’s trying to do. I think if Omegas really are being poisoned, then someone’s got to do something about it.”

Rouge blew out a wide puff. “Someone’s got to do something about it.” She repeated, looking up through the grimy window Amy had managed to open. “Amy, do you know the Law is about?”

Here we go. “Justice?”

Rouge cackled. “God, I’m glad its not. Justice is state-sanctioned revenge, Amy, at its rawest core. That’s the social contract. People give up the right to eye-for-an-eye each other into oblivion and society lets them buy too many toasters and binge watch Petflix.” She clasped her hands together, smoking stick poking out the side. “Amen.”

“That’s…” Amy frowned, “no, I don’t believe that. People are better than that…I mean most people are.”

Rouge shrugged. “You’ve got me there.” Amy blinked, unsure she’d heard Rouge correctly. “You’re right Amy,” Rouge confirmed that Amy was not hallucinating, “most people are fine. Perfectly happy to work together and pay their taxes and send their kids to public schools and spend two weeks a year palling around overcrowded beaches in Soumerica.” The cigarette returned to her lips. “But then there are bitches like me, Amy, who can never be satisfied.”

“No,” Rouge continued, “the Law is not about justice. You’re thinking the penal system. You fuck up and a huge mechanism, largely for profit now by the way, extracts revenge on society’s behalf from your sorry hide for your alleged crimes.”

Amy’s thoughts immedicably went to Liam and, to a lesser extent, her brother Scourge and his legal misadventures. By his own admission, Liam had been a bad person. Was the torment he received behind bars fair punishment? Amy couldn’t even begin to come a conclusion.

“The Law,” Rouge didn’t seem aware of Amy’s inner turmoil, “in order to perform the frou-frou marshmallows and sunshine role every toddler is taught, needs to be three things.”

Rouge held up a manicured finger, “The Law is about consistency. It’s about shit that’s illegal yesterday is illegal today and is illegal tomorrow.”

A second digit rose. “It’s about equity. If it’s illegal for you to steal, then it’s illegal for me. The state has to fuck us all the same way. No playing favorites.”

A third joined the erect pair. “It’s got to be clear. Any shmuck with a third-grade education has to be able to sus out the basics of what will and won’t get his ass pressed to the pavement by three stalwart defenders of the thin blue line.”

“Easy, right? Stable, fair, and clear.” Rouge waited a beat for Amy to nod enthusiastically like she was supposed to. Amy was very certain it was not, in fact, that easy, but she knew by now not to interrupt Rouge. The bat was going to drag her by the nose to whatever point she was making no matter Amy’s opinion on the matter.

“But it ain’t easy, Amy!” Yup. “God damn is it not easy. The Avalonian’s had it right when they start lopping the heads off their monarchs. Liberté, égalité, fraternité.” Rouge recited, a sneer curling the side of her muzzle. “Death to tyrants and all that jazz.”

Amy sighed. Rouge was meandering strangely and the photographer really wasn’t in the mood to endure a tirade. A headache was gathering behind her forehead, and she really wanted to just huff Shadow’s scarf some more. “I get it. None of that happens. It’s all a shame or whatever. Sorry, a fucking shame.”

“Amy.” Rouge straightened, her eyes wide, not in anger or snide jadedness, but in unabashed shock. “No, it all happens. All that good shit happens all the time all around us. That’s the funny thing. That’s the joke. All the worst shit happens, too. It’s great and terrible at the same time. Its nirvana and fucking hell on the daily. It’s getting a free dessert on your birthday while you’re getting reamed raw in the ass.”

“Okay, fine...” Amy’s brow pinched. “Uh, and what does this have to do with the slaughterhouse?”

“Damn, look at you listening.” Rouge smirked. “It means when the right people are at the top, the grinder at the bottom slows down. It means you can sink a lot lower and still not be turned into dogfood. More free cake, less ass rape.”

Amy made a disgusted face. “Why do you always have to say stuff that way?”

Rouge gave her a sharp look, “Acute stress response. What are you, my therapist?”

Amy opened her mouth to apologize, but Rouge barreled right onwards. “Look, Amy, reality and utopia are in a dance, constantly moving towards and away from each other like the god-damned moon and planet. Never touching, but when they get close, its fucking great, Amy, it’s fucking great and amazing and people write fucking poems about it and the stock market just tanks like a god-damned dream because people aren’t selling their livers for loot-boxes.”

“But when they’re apart,” Rouge sighed, “it is the most disgusting sewage imaginable. Fucking fictional misery doesn’t even come close.”

“It’s work. Real, hard, fuck-you-dead-everyday work to push that bloated sow reality towards the unobtainable ideal. Because on the other side of her fat ass are a ton of shitheads looking to take her in the other direction. And do you know why those sick fucks are over there trying to ruin it for everyone else?” Rouge paused, indicating she hadn’t given Amy a rhetorical question.

Shit! Amy wracked her brain. She knew the answer could only be one of three things: Money, Power, or Sex. Which one depended on how Rouge was feeling in the moment. She was pissed at Shadow right now, so probably- “Money?” Amy’s voice lilted questioningly.

“Fuck a duck, you are listening.” Rouge brandished her cigarette.

Amy audibly exhaled.

Rouge’s eyes darkened and she looked away. “You’re smart and your pretty and you don’t deserve any of the trouble he’s going to cause you, the fucking asshole.” She grumbled.

“What did you say?”

“I said, the gap between reality and the ideal creates confusion and blind-spots, Amy. Clean your ears out on occasion!” Rouge snapped, but Amy couldn’t find it in herself to be irritated or afraid of the outburst. Instead her brow drew together in sympathy. She was beginning to suspect there were more than one conversation happening right now.

Was Rouge just as overwhelmed as Amy was?

“Anyway, remember what I said about simplicity, consistency, and clarity? Well, the gap between the shit we got and the shit we could have fucks that all up. Nasty, opportunistic little lice like to exploit the chinks in the wall and just fucking infest everything. It serves them to make the system worse, so they just do that because they’re little more than sea plankton wildly thrashing the general direction of sunlight. Blind, stupid, and, above all, careless. They disembowel the Law for fun and pleasure, Amy. And sometimes the body politic keels over and just fucking dies, in which case, get your fucking spear because it’s literally eat or be eaten. Or, as is the modern case, the miserable wounded thing limps along, parasite ridden and barely alive.”

“Like…a zombie?” Amy tried to finish Rouge’s metaphor.

“Hardly.” Rouge scoffed. “Zombies are dead, Amy. A bullet to the skull is a mercy. No, our rule of Law is still alive. That’s the thing with parasites…a good deworming and a big, healthy shit and you’re right as rain.”

Amy grimaced in disgust, again.

“Oh, grow up. Everybody poops, Amy. Didn’t you read the book in pre-school?”

“No, its just…um, like, you’re the medicine then?” Amy really didn’t feel like talking or thinking about excrement. “You, uh, de-worm, uh, politics?”

At that, Rouge looked away and her ears lowered. “Some days I think I am.” Her voice was suddenly lower and filled with something Amy had never heard from Rouge: self-doubt. “Some days I’d fucking flay a motherfucker who implied otherwise…And somedays I might have the idea that I’m just another parasite trying to carved out a piece of society’s lower intestine all for myself.”

Rouge lapsed into silence. Her cigarette burned out, but she didn’t seem to notice.

This was weird. This was really weird, right? Rouge didn’t, like, do whatever this was. She was a force of nature, a raging wildfire no one could put out, a tsunami quickly approaching your location that could only be fled screaming from. This…well, Amy didn’t really like this.

“For what it’s worth,” Amy spoke up finally, “I don’t think you’re a parasite, Rouge…I mean, I think you’re trying to help people, really help them. Sometimes you’re-”

“Thank you, but I’m both, Amy.” Rouge interrupted.

“What?”

“I am both.” Rouge looked Amy full in the face, determination abundant in her teal eyes. “I am the parasite and I am the medicine. That’s the truth. That’s the dirty little secret. I may be the medicine now, but give it twenty years, ten years, hell, five years, and I’ll be the parasite, Amy. I’ll be the parasite and a whole new line of pills’ll be lining up to knock me down. And do you know why?”

“Um, because power corrupts?” Amy shifted uncomfortably. Her fingers played with one of the ends of Shadow’s scarf.

“Because the fight never ends. The work is never over. Life goes on. Clocks keep ticking. People forget what you’ve done. What you’ve given. What you’ve suffered. Eventually you wear out and get bitter. What is old is bad and what is new is good. Now I’m new, but tomorrow I’m old. Once I’m old there are two things that could happen. I could dig my heels in, halt progress, and sicken the fuck out of the body of society for my own gain and power…Or…”

Amy didn’t offer to fill in the blank.

“Retire.” Rouge finished. “And that’s not going to happen, because I don’t know what enough is. Lots of folks don’t…”

Enough. Amy didn’t know what enough was either…Silence filled the room as neither seemed to know what to say next.

Eventually Rouge made a frustrated growl deep in her throat that sent Amy’s hair raising. “You can go now.” Manicured fingernails flashed as the bat waved her hand dismissively at Amy. “Like I said, I’ve got a lot of work to do.” Rouge looked more exhausted than Amy had ever seen her.

For once, Amy felt like she needed to stay. “Is there…anything I can do to help you?”

Rouge shrugged and didn’t look Amy in the face. “It’s nice when you let me get all bitchy at you. Gets some of my spicier venom out. And that’s…” Nice? Was Rouge about to complement her, like really complement Amy? The bat continued to stare out the window as she trailed off. With a shake, Rouge snapped out of her pensive mode. “I said get lost!”

Amy squeaked and fled like a mouse.

Clutching her camera bag, Amy’s head was reeling. Did…did Rouge just open up a little to her? What…was she supposed to do with that? Was she supposed to do anything? Rouge had always been this mountain of a woman, indominable, unmovable, like a stampeding herd of wildebeest crushing everything in its path…Was that a lie…or was Rouge both. Vulnerable and anxious, crude and dominating. Frightened and frightening.

Like how Shadow could be scary…and yet so scared.

She was two transfers into her commute home when Amy noticed a text from Bruno noting the function had dissolved awhile ago and asking if she would like a ride. Her face flushed crimson. Had he been waiting for her all day? Mortified, she apologized profusely and confessed she’d taken the bus on reflex. The bear didn’t seem bothered and wished her safe travels and a good night.

Returning home, Amy slumped into her couch with a heavy sigh. The last dregs of sunlight colored the slats of her blinds and with the illumination went her higher-level mental faculties. She was exhausted physically, mentally, spiritually, and probably four or five other ways she couldn’t even describe.

What a day.

What a week.

What a month.

What a life…

Making the cognizant choice to just not think anymore tonight, Amy took up the remote and turned on the local news. They didn’t pay for cable – hell, they technically didn’t pay for internet either, just leeched it off one of their neighbor’s routers – but a few channels were on public access.

The ten-day forecast finally had a threat of rain on it, potentially ending the long running drought. However, with how it was already snowing north of the city, the downpour might turn into a blizzard. Back to you, Tom.

Thanks Jim. Now our top story tonight is the Harvest Festival Rut Riot that occurred this past Saturday Night and the mystery swirling around the as of yet unknown Omega who started the whole thing. Health Officials have not released any names or details, and City PD has remained silent, citing an ongoing investigation.

But a lack of evidence has not prevented the Internet from wildly speculating. Some, like this carnival game operator, claim to have seen the Omega before the riot began.

Yeah, I saw her. Pretty little thing. Can’t shoot for nothing. But I ain’t telling you *BLEEP* ‘cuz her man landed six bull’s eyes in less than five seconds and I value my life, thank you very much.

Several Alphas involved in the riot have been released from police custody today, but none have provided a clear description of the inciting Omega. When pressed for comment, this polar bear had this to say-

I didn’t see her. I didn’t touch her. I wasn’t involved in any way. I love my wife-

Amy fumbled the remote as she tried to change the channel, her stomach roiling. Business news filled the screen, and she found herself looking at a silent video of Shadow talking from a podium with several commentators discussing how KLS’ press conference today would affect overnight trading of stocks in the healthcare and pharmaceuticals sector. Signs were pointing towards a rout and here’s what that means for your portfolio.

Behind Shadow was a wide collection of people, several of whom Amy realized she knew. It was surreal. She felt the urge to take a picture and send it to her parents. Look! Sonic is on TV!

Sonic stared forward from the crowd behind Shadow with wide empty eyes, like he’d just had the fright of his life. Amy’s chest clenched painfully at his visible distress. Dr. Prower stood next to him looking tired and serious, yet still ridiculously handsome as ever. On the other side a hollow-eyed Silver stood ramrod straight next to a furious Blaze, who occasionally threw withering glares across the stage towards Sonic.

What the hell happened? Oh god, Blaze for sure knew about who Sonic works for now.

A key sliding into the lock on the front door startled Amy. She gripped a throw pillow against her chest as her heart raced. She knew who was about to enter, but she wasn’t ready, especially given she just remembered that she totally ghosted him when he was upset last night. Shit!

She killed the TV just as he entered.

Amy stared at Sonic.

Sonic stared at Amy.

“Hey.” Amy greeted.

“Hey.” Sonic repeated.

An uneasy silence descended as they considered one another. Amy was frozen, looking for any direction on Sonic’s face as to where this conversation was going to go and barely breathing.

Eventually, Sonic broke eye contact. He bit his lip and shuffled uncomfortably. His dull emeralds roamed their apartment, examining everything briefly other than Amy. “Can we…maybe, like…take a pause or just be cool or whatever. I dunno if I’m, like, really ready to get into it…”

Amy swallowed thickly. “You don’t want to talk about it?” Did she want to talk about all that had happened? Was there some universe she could teleport to where they just never talked about it at all and everything went back to exactly how things had been?

Sonic grimaced. “You know what?” He said quickly, shouldering his bag. “I’ll just go to my room and-“

“Sonic, wait!” Amy realized she couldn’t live like this. She couldn’t live without her best friend and if they just let everything fester, they’d eventually grow into strangers. And that would break her heart.

He still wouldn’t look at her. “Look, Ames…I-I-I’m not in a good place to get into anything, okay? I just- Today sucked! Okay? So, I know I fucked up and I was an asshole, but if we can’t just be cool or whatever for like the night, then I’mma just go to my room.”

“What happened? Please, Sonic. Just tell me what happened today.” Amy begged.

Sonic finally looked at her, his emerald eyes brimming with tears. He opened his mouth but no sound emerged. His eyes pinched shut and tears broke free, running down his cheeks. Sonic bit his fist to fight back a sob.

Amy’s blood ran cold. “Sonic.” She rose and approached him. On reflex she paused at arm’s length, her usual closest position, but as he sobbed, she couldn’t remain so aloof. She launched forward, wrapping her arms around him and fighting the revulsion of her skin.

Sonic’s breath hitched and he choked. Amy held on. Parts of her were revulsed. He smelled wrong! This isn’t Shadow! How could she be touching another man like this? But she remained stalwart in her determination to comfort her friend (no matter how much of an idiotic asshole he’d been recently).

Finally, in a small voice, Sonic said, “Silver dumped me.”