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Shadow is in shock the whole way down.
It’s a bit literal and figurative; there’s still adrenaline in his veins from running from those … those soldiers, his heart (or whatever approximate he possesses) beating even faster than it normally would. His breathing is heavy; in this small, confined escape pod, he feels as though he will be crushed. His fists pound against the glass to no avail, and he hardly processes the view of the earth, big and blue and mysterious for his whole creation, rapidly approaching as he continues his descent.
No, the only thing he can see right now is Maria, beautiful and brilliant and dead. Her blue is stained red; her eyes no longer have that spark. Even as she slumps over the console, she is still smiling at him, because she always smiles at him, and Shadow wonders what makes him so ultimate if he can’t even save that smile.
As the pod drops, he wonders if maybe this is a terrible dream. He wonders if maybe he will open his eyes and Maria will be there, shining and radiant despite it being yet another day on the ARK. But he can't bring himself to open them, stuck with the ringing in his ears despite how flat they lay against his head, eyes screwed shut, chest still heaving, hands still pressed against the stupid glass of this damn escape pod as red, red, red remains stained in his vision.
It’s just a dream. It’s just a dream. It’s just a bad dream, because Maria cannot possibly look so lifeless.
He doesn’t remember much following that; he doesn’t remember when the shock fades, when he’d been taken out of the pod, when he’d been put in this cell with the Professor. He can’t figure out when that shock turned into anger—when red became so blinding that it turned white-hot, boiling, seething. That twisted feeling in his chest, no longer sinking but sitting as the fury threatens to burn his throat.
For Maria, he thinks, this wretched world will pay. He will raze this planet and all its beings for what they did to her, and it would be a mercy for what he wishes he could do.
Then everything goes black.
When he next opens his eyes, he thinks he is looking at the Professor.
It only takes a moment for him to realize that no—this person may look strikingly similar, but he lacks … something. He is old, but not old enough. The laugh lines aren’t present. Shadow remembers clearly, exactly—and, well, it helps that this stranger doesn't even know who he is.
His thoughts speed by, almost faster than he can keep up. He doesn't know where the Professor is, but that doesn't matter, because he does know that he'd clearly been contained here, and that this Professor lookalike has freed him, and that now he will see to it that the people of this world regret.
He schools his features and lets his rage fuel him; he comes up with a plan quickly, immediately, as though someone is whispering it into his ear. The words come to him easily, a script to set the play in motion.
“My name is Shadow,” he says, smirking. “Since you were so kind to release me, my master … I will grant you one wish.”
Yes—one wish. He will strike a deal with this man, and he will fulfill the most important wish. For Maria …
He watches the video in silence. He looks down at the planet, a more familiar sight, then back at the black screen where the Professor had just been. Where the Professor had just been killed. He feels … numb. Surreal. Is the ultimate lifeform capable of some kind of astral projection? It’s as though he’s looking at himself from the outside.
His chest feels tight. Something is wrong. But—but no. This is what Maria wanted. What the Professor wanted. He must fulfill their wish. He must.
When that pink hedgehog talks to him … when he remembers, his heart—or whatever it is—sinks. Shadow is able to see the sight of her final words much too clearly again, burned deep within his mind but buried under … under what? There isn’t enough time to think about it. No room for any thoughts other than of her.
Maria’s blue had turned crimson, but even then, she never stopped smiling. He supposes she was always like that, finding ways to smile despite (or maybe because of?) her situation; to smile at him, even though he isn't sure if he'd deserved it, even though he couldn't possibly have ever deserved it to have forgotten her.
(How had he ever believed she'd wish for such a thing … ? As the ultimate lifeform, he can't fall ill, but he imagines it must feel something similar to this. Perhaps Maria would've been disappointed ... and yet, Shadow now knows—remembers—that that is not the person she is. Was.)
“That’s what I promised to her,” he breathes. It’s strange, how he feels both heavier and lighter for it, a sinking stone in his gut but a new purpose that straightens his back even as he cannot help the tear that escapes him. “… And I must keep that promise. That’s what Maria wished for …”
“Shadow?” the pink hedgehog says, confused. Perhaps he will thank her for this later—after he stops this ARK.
“I gotta go now. I have to keep my promise to Maria—and you.”
There’s no time for more games. He runs.
Shadow is not quite in shock the whole way down; rather, he finds himself somewhat at peace, really.
He is exhausted beyond measure, his heart (or something) beating rapidly despite the slow but shallow breaths he takes. The energy is fading; the Chaos Emeralds have left him, his gold turning black, as he falls and falls. That blue hedgehog—currently gold hedgehog still, somehow more attuned to the Emeralds than Shadow who was created for them, possibly more ultimate than Shadow had ever been—tries to catch up, to catch him. But Shadow will win this one last race; he makes sure of it, batting away the hand that almost reaches him as the view of the earth approaches once more, big and blue and only a little less mysterious than before.
He is … content. Maybe now, he will get to see—
“Maria … this is what you wanted, right? This is my promise I made to you …”
Yes—his promise. Her wish. He will fulfill it; he did fulfill it. He must. For Maria.
