Chapter Text
A few terrified Mobians dart out of the building when he throws the door open, but the rest of them hesitate, their eyes flicking around wildly at the hellscape around them. Sonic tries not to groan out loud at how slow they are.
He gets it. Honestly, he does. It sucks out here; it’s only natural they’re a little wary.
But they gotta go fast.
“Step lively, folks!” Sonic yells at them, pointing down the street. “Head for the big hotel at the end of the block!”
Finally, the refugees start moving. There’s about a dozen of them: a bear gritting her teeth and clutching a lamp for protection, a middle-aged wolf lumbering out behind her. They’re still moving too slow for Sonic’s liking, but at least they’re making progress now.
“Do we have time to thank that robot for saving us?” the wolf asks, nervous yet trying his best to muster a grateful smile.
Sonic pauses for the cries of “EXTERMINATE! EXTERMINATE!” from down the street, and the distinctive thwaps of a zombot being slammed into the ground repeatedly.
He sighs internally. “He’s the type of guy who doesn’t need thanks,” he mutters, beckoning the survivors to keep moving.
Once the last person shuffles out, Sonic takes one more peek inside while he gives instructions.
“Now, everyone go straight to the hotel…”
Everyone’s out. Sonic steels himself.
“...while I plow the way clear!”
With that, he launches himself down the street in a Spin Dash, sending zombots flying into the air like tennis balls.
Aaaand here we go again.
Sonic is getting pretty dang sick of this whole thing. Like, sure, he’s kicking butt. He’s helping folks and running around all over just the way he loves. But it feels...less satisfying than usual. Although he’s technically smashing armies of Eggman robots like normal, it’s just not the same.
Probably because instead of actual Egg bots, he has to attack poor mind-controlled zombie victims who never stood a chance, watching the world spin more and more out of control and fighting an icky disease trying to spread over his body.
It feels pretty damn bleak sometimes. This is the furthest Eggman has gotten in his world domination plans since the war; and he only managed to pull that off by getting Sonic out of the way.
This time, Sonic is right in the middle of the fight where he belongs. But losing city after city, friend after friend, and having to see so much suffering firsthand...for the first time in a long while, it feels like he might be in over his head.
All he can do for now is save as many people as possible, he reminds himself. The more people he saves, the more allies they have in this fight.
He plows zombots out of the way as he races down the streets of Sunset City. Rouge sent the Restoration a distress call earlier, saying Eggman attacked the city with the Metal Virus just this afternoon. Most of the citizens had been lost by the time Sonic and the others got here. Rouge had been gathering whomever was left, while Omega…did his usual thing.
Sonic slides to a stop at the Grand Gold Flicky Hotel. A barrier of destroyed cars surrounds the entrance—at least twelve of them, crushed or laying on their sides, arranged in a semicircle. He leaps over.
“I saw another wave coming from the east!” Rouge is shouting to a guy with a helmet and blaster. “Get your officers to guard the rear so we don’t get surrounded!”
“Yes, ma’am!” the officer yells. He raises his weapon importantly and stalks off.
Daaaang. And here Sonic thought all her talents were in thievery, espionage, and serving looks.
“Since when did you start giving orders?” Sonic says.
She raises a brow at him. “I can’t live comfortably in high society if there’s no civilization, now can I?” she retorts. Her eyes flick up and down Sonic’s body, taking in his condition properly for the first time.
“So, three things. First: thanks for coming. Second: don’t touch me. And third: how are you doing?”
Although her voice and body language are nonchalant, her words carry an undertone of genuine concern.
It’s nice of her, but Sonic’s tired of people worrying about him. All the other victims have completely lost their free will; compared to them, he’s fine. They should be focusing on everyone else.
So he tries to play it down. “Meh,” he says, inspecting his partially metallic arms with a frown. “Running from crisis to crisis is keeping it in check, but every hit I give or take makes it worse.”
Rouge allows a beat of silence. Or, what counts for silence amidst the lasers and gunfire, and the zombot groans, and victim screams.
“So, manageable?” she sums up.
Sonic holds back a scoff. “Sure. We’ll go with that.”
She seems satisfied enough. Probably accustomed to stubborn hedgehogs who won’t admit their own issues.
Speaking of, someone seems to be missing here...
Before Sonic can ask, Rouge crosses her arms and turns to the zombot hordes in the distance. “I can’t say the same for the city,” she remarks. “This is a sloppy assault, even for Eggman.”
“That’s because he’s not controlling them,” Sonic says. “He can’t.”
Rouge rolls her eyes. “Oh, well isn’t that just marvelous,” she drones sarcastically.
Yeah, it’s pretty unfortunate. They could use some more help.
“Where’s Shadow?” Sonic asks her. If he had to guess, probably off fighting zombots somewhere. Or maybe looking for clues to hunt down Eggman, or...
“Picking up a transport for the survivors.”
He’s what?
The answer makes Sonic smirk involuntarily. That’s pretty much the last place he would’ve guessed. Shadow’s on the side of good, but usually he’s just fighting the big bad with them. Aiding and rescuing the civilians is a job he always leaves to Sonic. A mental image of Shadow, gently holding a crying little girl’s hand and helping her onto the transport, nearly makes Sonic snort out loud.
(The image is sweet, though. Maybe when hell freezes over.)
“Really?” Sonic says. “I didn’t know he cared.”
Rouge grins, quirking an eyebrow. “You’d be surprised,” she says. “Plus, every person not infected is one less zombot to deal with.”
“HELP!”
A panicked cry cuts off their conversation.
Sonic and Rouge whip around to see the wolf from earlier, leaning over between the cars of the makeshift barrier. “They’re right behind us!” he cries.
Sonic rushes over and reaches out to them. “Grab my hand! I’ll—”
Wait, no.
“Nope!” he yells as his feet propel his body over the people’s heads. He slides to a stop on the zombot side, his thoughts finally catching up.
Idiot! Sonic kicks himself internally, glaring at his metallic silver hand all the while. ‘Grab my hand’? What the hell was he thinking?! A single touch and all those people they just saved would be done for!
He’s messed up enough already—they can’t afford for him to be so stupid! It’ll only make everything worse!
The zombot hordes inch closer. Maybe instead of mentally berating himself, he ought to take out his frustration on them.
With a growl, Sonic curls into a Spin Dash and starts making tiny circles. He pours on all the speed he can, and the dust he’s kicking up swirls around in the air faster and faster to create his own tornado. He grits his teeth and puts everything he has into it, widening his circle yet still increasing his speed until the cyclone is huge.
It has the desired effect. The mindless drones are swept up into the air and out of the street to clear a path for the refugees, and all without Sonic having to touch any of them with his own hands.
Kind of a shame, really. Punching stuff would be far more cathartic. But he’ll take what he can get.
After a few moments, he slows down and stops, closing his eyes so he doesn’t have to look at the bodies raining down around him. The repeated thwaps are uncomfortable enough.
Sonic glances backward to make eye contact with the armed officers. They’re just staring at him in awe, stunned and impressed beyond words.
Normally he’d be happy to bask in showing off a little bit, but there’s no more goddamn time.
He leaps out of the way as a zombot falls right where he was standing. “More are coming!” he barks at the dumbstruck officers. “And they aren’t following any kind of plan! Don’t let your guard down!”
The officers seem to snap out of it, scrambling to pick up their weapons. Sonic decides to leave them for now. He whistles to get the zombots’ attention, then blasts off down West Street. Gotta keep working. Keep fighting. Keep clearing the way.
They already lost Charmy, and Cheese and Chocola. Sonic is not going to lose any more friends to this.
He races past an alley—and skids to a halt once he processes what he saw.
He nearly screams in frustration. That trigger-happy little—
Omega stands by the entrance of the alley, his giant body too big to squeeze into the narrow space. So, of course, his alternative is to dump all the bullets he has in there, blowing holes in the zombots as they crawl along the walls.
Which would be helpful, if they weren’t crawling in the opposite direction! They’re not a threat to the refugees. It’s a total waste of time. But Omega, as always, only cares about destroying every damn bot he lays optical sensors on.
“What are you doing?!” Sonic shouts. “We’ve got to keep the zombots away from the hotel!”
Omega doesn’t even turn to look at him. “TOO MANY TARGETS. NOT ENOUGH BULLETS,” he says. “ENEMY IS ADVANCING FROM BOTH DIRECTIONS.”
“‘Both directions…?’” Sonic slowly turns around. Where the Main Street bridge was clear before, now there’s a crowd of zombots clambering over it and spilling into the street.
Omega’s preoccupied. Someone has to stop them.
“I see them! Hold the line here!” Sonic says as he bolts off toward them.
“ACKNOWLEDGED. CREATING A WALL OF BODIES.”
That’s not what he meant! And Omega knows it. How is it that Rouge is the reasonable one on their team?!
“Not what I said!” he yells over the sound of zombots crashing through store windows.
(He really just says it out of principle. Even if Omega can hear him at this distance, it’ll just go in one ear and out the other. Or whatever Omega has instead of ears.)
Whatever. He can have his alley full of zombots if he wants. Sonic zooms to the Main Street Bridge.
But he skids to a stop when the noise of a huge engine in the background suddenly catches his attention. Out of nowhere, bodies start erupting from the back of the horde, flung into the air by something enormous.
“What the—?”
HOOOOOOOONK!
A massive 16-wheeler blasts its horn and smashes into the crowd from the back, carving a path through the zombots as easily as a hot knife through butter. Sonic leaps out of the way as the thing barrels down the street and over zombots at speeds that would definitely kill most people on impact. Thank Gaia the zombots can heal from that.
It rounds the corner and zooms in the direction of the hotel. The truck has no trouble maneuvering past the parked cars and debris, even in spite of its impressive size and highly illegal speed.
Whoever’s behind the wheel, they’re definitely not a zombot. Sonic bolts off in pursuit.
Although it’s pretty fast for a truck, it’s got nothing on Sonic. He overtakes it in seconds and runs around the front—just in time for the truck to hurtle into the hotel parking lot. It turns a sharp left so harshly that the trailer swings around wildly as the whole thing screeches to a halt. The trailer kicks up a huge cloud of gravel, making Sonic cough involuntarily.
After a moment, the dust settles. Sonic’s cough subsides just as the door slams open and an angry black hedgehog throws himself out of the driver’s seat.
Sonic’s heart leaps. Shadow’s here! Time for some fun!
As always, Sonic is stoked to see him. And his delight only grows when he notices Shadow’s expression. It’s one Sonic’s seen many times before—ears turned sideways, eyes narrowed, a ferocious frown.
He’s pissed off. Or, as Sonic likes to think of it: perfect for mocking.
Sonic bounces up to him with a lopsided grin. “There you are!” he says. “What’s the matter? Couldn’t find a bigger one?”
Shadow doesn’t seem to be in the mood.
Instead of bantering back, he bares his deadly fangs and shoves a finger in Sonic’s face, an audible growl rumbling out of him. “Shut. Up,” he hisses viciously.
Yikes.
Okay, maybe less than perfect for mocking. Sonic likes getting under Shadow’s skin, but he doesn’t have a death wish.
He takes a step back and holds his hands up in surrender. “Easy,” he says. “I was kidding.”
Shadow is unmoved. “This is your fault.”
(He doesn’t spit it out like a personal attack. He just states it in a flat, angry tone, like it’s an indisputable fact.)
“If I had destroyed Eggman in Windmill Village, none of this would be happening,” he continues.
Again? Seriously?!
Sonic contemplates bashing his head against the hotel’s brick wall. Having this argument over and over is almost as exhausting as the Metal Virus.
Why doesn’t anyone get it?! Mr. Tinker was an innocent man! They did the right thing at the time!
“Some creep called Starline made him evil again!” Sonic snaps. “Nobody could’ve seen that coming!”
Shadow just scoffs. It’s a sound Sonic is used to hearing, but for some reason it annoys him much more than normal. “Excuses,” Shadow says disdainfully.
Sonic bristles even more.
‘Excuses’?! It’s not an excuse, it’s a damn fact! How the hell could he have predicted the appearance of a tryhard platypus with awful hair?! Everyone’s working themselves to the bone to fix what Starline and Egghead broke, thank you very much.
“Yo! I’m dealing with it too!” he reminds Shadow, shoving his shiny, silvery arm in Shadow’s face. “I’m infected! See?”
Shadow glances down at the destroyed limb, affording it no more than a quick, contemptuous once-over.
“It’s what you deserve,” he sneers.
And that marks the first time that Shadow fully manages to get under Sonic’s skin.
What he deserves?!
Rage explodes in Sonic’s mind. He doesn’t have any thoughts or arguments to offer against Shadow because he’s just so unbelievably pissed.
He deserves this?! He deserves to be sick?! What kind of asshole would even—?!
He clenches his metallic fists and holds one up, growling at Shadow, unable to even speak.
Although Shadow’s gotten the reaction he obviously wanted, he sports no mocking smirk nor twinkle of playfulness in his eyes. His face shows no emotion except pure, unadulterated hatred.
Sonic’s furious, but the idea of Shadow hating him also makes his heart ache. It makes him want to try to justify himself even more, to get Shadow to understand—it’s not his fault, he didn’t do this. But his brain is too scrambled from rage and despair to do anything other than growl.
It’s bizarre. Sonic never lets anyone get to him like this, and especially not Shadow.
This prolonged health issue is really screwing with his emotions.
Speaking of his infection, it’s getting pretty bad now. He should probably go for a run. Shadow’s truck has given them a brief moment of reprieve from the zombots, so it’s a good time for it.
And also...he really wants to get away from here. Before he does or says something he regrets.
He huffs and turns away. “I’m gonna go take care of my infection,” he spits as he stomps off.
Then, because he’s a decent goddamn Mobian, he adds, “Thanks for bringing in the truck.”
“I know,” Shadow’s voice deadpans behind him.
Not even a ‘you’re welcome.’ What a jerk.
Sonic is over it. “Don’t let the zombots touch you,” he says as he gets into a running stance. “If it happens, you should be fast enough to run it off like me.”
He zips off to the mountains before waiting to hear Shadow’s response.
After all, if Shadow ignores a warning like that, maybe he’d deserve to get infected.
-----
Shadow stands in place until that streak of blue has disappeared all the way over the horizon.
Don’t let the zombots touch you. If it happens, you should be fast enough to run it off like me.
Such a coward. Running away from a problem instead of facing it head-on.
“Cowards run,” the Ultimate Lifeform says to himself. “I win.”
That’s where Sonic gets it wrong. Running away like always—just as he did from the Doctor, when he had amnesia.
This time, Shadow won’t make the same mistake. He will show that obnoxious blue hedgehog how much of a failure he really is.
‘Run off’ an infection? As if Shadow can even get infected anyway.
First, though, he has to make sure the refugees—those victims Sonic left behind to go ‘run off’ his pathetic problem—are protected. Luckily Shadow knows at least one ally who can be counted on not to run away.
“Omega,” Shadow calls out to his teammate.
Omega fires a grenade out of his shoulder. “SHADOW.”
(That’s what Shadow likes about Omega. The two of them don’t need too many words.)
“Safeguard the truck while Rouge oversees the evacuation,” Shadow tells him.
“CONSIDERING,” Omega says, lowering his arm thoughtfully. “TRUCK AND REFUGEES WILL BE THE ZOMBOTS’ PRIMARY TARGET. THIS WILL BRING ADDITIONAL TARGETS TO ME.” He moves his head up and down, his best approximation of a nod. “ORDERS APPROVED. WHAT WILL YOU DO?” he asks as he stomps off toward the truck.
Shadow just scoffs and turns toward his target. Omega surely already knows the answer, but Shadow says it anyway.
“Destroy Eggman’s army. What else?”
And Shadow springs into action.
His first instinct is to go for his signature Chaos Spears. He takes a deep breath to adopt the calm, controlled breathing required to use Chaos Energy, clearing his mind of any lingering anger at Sonic.
It doesn’t take much effort. Sonic isn’t worth any more mental energy.
Shadow fires a large volley of Spears at the mob of metal monsters, but each one only knocks down one or two at once. In a crowd of thousands where his goal is to defeat them as quickly as possible, it’s too inefficient a strategy.
Not a problem. The Ultimate Lifeform doesn’t shy away from getting his hands dirty.
He lights his rocket skates and crashes down into the masses, launching a series of flame kicks at them. His skates make scorched impressions in the chests, which seem not to bother the ghouls too much. He stomps on feet and rips arms out of sockets without hesitation; he knows these things can regenerate to some extent, so the people underneath will be fine. Probably.
A zombot (Despite Shadow’s disdain for Sonic, that name seems to have stuck) takes a swipe. Shadow blasts away and backflips over the horde, but the same bot reaches up its hand in an attempt to catch him by the ankle.
Shadow dodges and quickly rights himself, curling into a Spin Dash and blasting through, knocking bots out of the air like bowling pins. But right as he gets ready to uncurl, another zombot appears in front of him.
His reflexes take over. He lifts his heavy skates and slams them down as he lands directly on the bot’s head. It crumples to the ground, the momentum smashing and partially flattening the head against the ground with a sickening crack. Shadow jumps backward in surprise.
Oops.
Contrary to popular belief, Shadow does have a conscience. He does feel a little pang of guilt whenever he has to kill someone, either in self-defense or to fulfill a mission.
And this is no exception. He’s aware these aren’t the typical Egg bots, but real, innocent victims; and even though these things can heal, there’s no way anyone (other than Shadow) could survive that. He definitely just slaughtered somebody.
But that damn thing could’ve grabbed him as he uncurled from a Spin Dash, and then he’d be forced to kill more people to escape. It’s a necessary sacrifice.
(Somewhere in the back of his mind, Shadow wonders if Sonic would agree.)
But, as if to defy the whole notion, the destroyed bot starts shuddering, somehow pushing itself to its feet. It turns to Shadow with its one remaining intact glowing red eye and stares blankly for a moment.
Then the head swells. Like a balloon being inflated, the smashed and mangled skull and jaw quickly grow back into place. The damage is completely repaired in seconds.
Turns out, zombots can heal much more than he originally assumed.
“Hmph. Resilient,” Shadow mutters to himself.
Resilient, huh? They’re not the only ones.
Shadow allows himself a cocky smile as he gets back into a fighting stance. “But so am I.”
With that, he ignites his skates and spin kicks, blasting away a circle of enemies and leaving them with gashes in their limbs and chests.
Now he knows he can go all-out. These enemies don’t take permanent damage—and neither does Shadow. As he charges up his hands with Chaos Energy and launches himself toward his next victims, he lets out a triumphant proclamation.
“The Doctor’s Metal Virus can’t infect the Ultimate Lifeform!”
-----
Rouge lands on the edge of the golden Flicky fountain. “Keep it quick and orderly, people!” she shouts, motioning the refugees onto the truck. “Get cozy! There’s only so much space!”
Ugh, this whole evacuating-refugees thing is so not her cup of tea. She came here for the gems and the high life, not another (!!) world emergency. If the world could just reschedule its umpteenth apocalypse for a more convenient time and place, that’d be just fine.
And if she absolutely had to be helping during some crisis, she’d much rather be doing some spy work or something. Not trying to corral terrified, crying victims running for their lives.
Unfortunately, Rouge and the boys happened to be here when the Doctor attacked.
She saw the disgusting goop. Heard the Doctor’s hideous cackle. Felt the despair in the horrified screams.
And she couldn’t leave these poor people in the dust. Curse her stupid heart.
A huge explosion interrupts her thoughts. On instinct, Rouge leaps off the rim of the fountain to flit down to safety, but fortunately, there isn’t any danger at the moment. It’s just Omega being trigger-happy as ever, shooting in the other direction to clear a path.
“ADVANCE SO I MAY SHOOT YOU!” he bellows over the sound of his automatics.
Rouge rolls her eyes fondly at her teammate. At least he’s safe at a distance.
Which is more than can be said for her other teammate…
She squints out toward the horde of zombots to try to spot him, shielding her eyes from the sun with her hand. Huge bolts of green energy erupt from the crowd as bodies are flung out at high velocity. But Shadow himself is nowhere to be seen in the sea of taller metallic Mobians.
“Darn it, Shadow...you’re being reckless...” Rouge mutters to herself.
That’s when she feels it.
A cold, horrible dread. It creeps over her, starting from her heart and crawling upward. It makes the fur on the back of her neck stand up, and her wings twitch, and her body shiver.
She gets feelings like this from time to time, when something bad is about to happen. Not always, but sometimes. On a spy mission, it usually means she’s about to get caught. On a rescue mission, it means her target is in danger. While it’s not always there when she needs it, it can still be a useful skill in the field.
But she’s never felt it this strongly. As she watches the green bolts spew out of the place where her dearest old friend stands, it feels as icy cold as the Metal Virus itself.
Rouge knows that Shadow’s immune system can destroy anything. She’s seen the research. He can’t be infected by, carry, or transmit any pathogen known to man or Mobian. She knows that.
And yet...
Something terrible is going to happen, the feeling tells her. Shadow is going to die.
That is literally impossible. The feeling must be wrong; it can be wrong sometimes. She should probably just ignore it…
But for whatever reason, she doesn’t.
She has to change their fate.
Rouge taps her earpiece. “Amy?” she calls out.
There’s some shuffling before the Restoration Chief’s exhausted voice rings in her ear. “Hey, Rouge. What’s the status over there?”
“We’re managing so far. But we’re gonna need some backup, stat. Send whoever you can spare; I don’t know how long Shadow can last...”
-----
Just one more hill. One more hill, and Sonic’s infection will be practically gone.
But for the first time ever, he doesn’t want to run another hill. His thighs are burning and his chest hurts.
But he has to. Or he’ll die and become the world’s fastest zombot. And so he runs the stupid hill.
After way too long, he finally reaches the peak and allows himself to slow down. “Whew! That was entirely uphill!” he says, smiling weakly in an attempt to congratulate himself and feel good about the workout.
It doesn’t really work.
He’s gulping down air at a rate that can’t possibly be healthy. His lungs strain with the effort of heaving so quickly and heavily. He tries to get his pulse, but that’s hard when lifting his arm up to put his fingers on his pulse point feels like lifting a 100-pound weight. When he finally gets it, he finds his heart is beating so fast it’s almost like it’s vibrating. He’s never felt like this before.
“I’m not used to getting tired,” he says to no one in particular. “I guess being constantly on the move is starting to take its toll.”
‘I guess,’ right.
Who is he kidding? He hasn’t slept in days. His thighs and calves are sore in ways he didn’t know were possible. And he feels so gross with the icky, cold patches of virus always blooming over his body. It makes him feel like he needs a shower, but this isn’t the kind of thing you can scrub away with a few suds.
So, yeah. It’s definitely starting to take its toll.
Sonic’s eyes wander upwards, landing on the view of Sunset City. It was probably a cool skyline at one point, but now it’s hellish: the roads can’t be seen for the thousands and thousands of zombots, packed tightly into every space like a zillion tiny sardines. Smoke rises from several places in pure-black plumes; it seems like some fires have started, probably due to allied fire or car accidents. There’s no signs of life anywhere in the streets.
All in all, a pretty sucky view. It makes Sonic’s stomach turn to lead—and not just in a literal sense.
Now that he’s standing still, Sonic can’t stop his mind from spiraling. His imagination conjures up visions against his will: all the people fleeing their homes just to run into more monsters in the street. Watching friends and family turn into monstrous husks and attack them, feeling cornered with no hope. Grabbing loved ones’ hands to pull them to safety, only to find them covered in metal slime...
“Charmy...” Sonic murmurs. “Cheese...Chocola...who knows how many others around the world...”
Charmy trying desperately to save a random stranger, and Vector calling out to him... The normally fearless leader had worn a terrified, despairing expression as the brave little bee flew off, never to be seen again. It was a sight that will haunt Sonic for the rest of his life.
And maybe…that’s what he deserves.
Maybe Shadow was right. The exhaustion and psychological torment might be what he deserves. For letting Eggman do this, for giving him a second chance...
Sonic shakes his head, chasing those thoughts away.
He’s Sonic the Hedgehog. Wallowing in self-doubt is not in his job description. He goes on adventures and helps others. And that’s what he needs to do.
With the infection temporarily chased into submission, Sonic takes off back toward the city, to help his friends and all the innocent people who didn’t deserve to be caught in this mess.
Innocent people...just like Mr. Tinker. Shadow was wrong; he didn’t see how kind and sweet that old man really was. If anyone deserved a second chance, it was him. Just because some stupid platypus came along and did the wrong thing doesn’t mean Sonic didn’t do the right thing.
And right now it’s not important. As he pumps his exhausted feet faster until they’re a blur of red, Sonic puts it out of mind.
Right now, the right thing to do is help. And like always, that’s what he’ll do.
-----
Effortlessly zooming around and around at near-mach speeds to create an actual tornado, Shadow idly wonders how long it could possibly take to load up a single truck with people.
He flies up out of his vortex into a Spin Dash, crashing through enemies with a resounding wham. Shadow’s been fighting the zombots for the better part of an hour, blasting up and down the street to keep them from gaining any ground on the refugees. He’s been all over—among the masses, shooting Chaos Spears and punching holes in the bots’ chests as they tried in vain to swarm him; on the edge of the street, grabbing any that managed to sneak past; in the air, ripping the wings off the bugs and bats and slamming them back down into the earth.
Surely it couldn’t take that much time to evacuate a few people.
Of course, the Ultimate Lifeform could do this all day if he has to. But with Rouge leading them, he did figure they’d be done by now.
A zombot cat reaches toward him as he speeds along the street. Shadow reaches out and snags the thing by the neck. Maybe it’s a good sign it’s taking so long, Shadow muses as another crowd materializes directly in front of him. He skids to a stop and launches the metal cat toward them with a swipe of his arm. If it’s taking a while, that means there are plenty of people they managed to—
There’s a flash of sunlight when he throws the zombot. Shadow stops in his tracks.
That glint didn’t come from his inhibitor rings. That came from his hand.
He whips his hand in front of his face.
A splash of quicksilver on Shadow’s palm breaks up the snow white of his glove, dripping onto his fingers and drooling over his glove cuffs onto his forearm. Wide red eyes slowly follow it as it spreads down toward his elbow. He holds up his other hand next to it, and it too is covered in metallic sludge.
Some kind of ringing sound starts in his ears. Dread freezes Shadow’s blood in his veins as he comes to an incomprehensible realization.
He’s infected. And it’s spreading.
“That’s...impossible...” he hears his own voice rasp.
He knows it is. He’s the Ultimate Lifeform with the perfect immune system; it’s quite literally why he exists. He watched simulations as a child of the way his cells attack and destroy viruses and bacteria many hundreds of times faster than the average Mobian. They tested it with thousands of diseases. The Ultimate immune system won every time, no matter how deadly or potent any virus was.
This cannot possibly be happening.
And yet his hands grow colder, and iciness slowly creeps up the tip of his quills and seeps toward his head, as if he is being laid slowly into a bath of ice water. It is happening.
“Shadow!” Rouge’s voice calls, somehow audible over the horrible ringing in his ears. “Run! We’ll hold things here!”
Run?
Like Sonic had earlier, after Shadow verbally decimated him? And like Sonic did weeks ago, from that pathetic little old man version of Eggman?
Like Sonic had convinced Shadow to do, allowing Eggman to create this hell?
Shadow clenches his freezing fists and grits his teeth.
Not this time. The Ultimate Lifeform is not a coward like Sonic.
“I don’t run!”
Ignoring the cold slithering up the back of his head and crawling up his feet, and ignoring Rouge’s scream of, “That’s not what I mean, idiot!” Shadow rockets his metal fists toward the horde.
He punches, uppercuts, kicks them over and over. It’s not true—he’s immune. He has to be. Whatever’s happening, whatever’s causing the metal covering the entirety of his arms, he’ll be fine. He’s the Ultimate Lifeform. The one who will destroy Eggman’s army and make that man pay.
The cold slinks closer and closer to his center, but Shadow pays it no mind. He focuses on the feeling of his fists knocking into zombot jaws and temples, although the sensation in his hands seems to be growing dull for some reason. He can hear every individual zombot groan, they’re getting louder and louder and drowning out everything else. But a part of his consciousness manages to register the shouts of his allies.
“Omega! Give Shadow cover fire!”
“NEGATIVE. TARGETS ADVANCING TOO RAPIDLY. SUSTAINED FIRE REQUIRED TO PROTECT TRUCK.”
Good, Shadow thinks as he shudders involuntarily. He doesn’t need any help.
The cold consumes his entire body and is closing in on his face, but he’s fine. He launches into an uppercut, which only sends one enemy flying. His strikes are getting weaker and weaker, yet he continues to fight on. Because he’s the Ultimate Lifeform. How are the zombots multiplying? They grip his arms and they’re getting harder to shake off. He lands another punch. He’s freezing. He can sort of hear Rouge crying, “Amy! We need that backup now! The situation is disastrous! Amy?” but it’s muffled and tinny-sounding.
He can’t escape. They’re grabbing his arm and his legs and his chest and he’s weak. He’s vulnerable. He can’t breathe. He thrashes but their grip is ironclad. He’s so cold. He reaches out toward the sky desperately and his screams make no noise as dozens of zombots put their hands on him and push him down, down, down—
And then, a warm aura envelops his entire body.
While the aura doesn’t quite pierce through the all-consuming cold, its warmth can still be felt. Some kind of bluish-green glow gently lifts Shadow into the air while simultaneously tossing the zombots off to the side. His muscles are mostly frozen solid, but with what little control he has left, Shadow manages to swivel his eyes around.
The same green glow that surrounds Shadow’s body also surrounds someone floating in midair nearby: a silver hedgehog, holding out his arms and staring at Shadow with wide, terrified golden eyes.
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Next time: Ultimate Lifeform, or Ultimate Fool?