The Darker Side of a Hero Volume 2: A Spark of Hope Chapter 4: The Breaking, a sonic the hedgehog fanfic

Hey, my friends! I'm thrilled to share another chapter with you all! I've been incredibly excited about these recent chapters, and I truly hope you enjoy reading them as much as I've enjoyed writing them. So, without further ado, I present to you Chapter 4: The Breaking. Read on, readers! —RTP

The parliament hall of the City of Respite was heavy with silence, a stillness that echoed the grief of those gathered. Towering pillars loomed above, casting long, solemn shadows, and flickering sconces adorned the walls, their dim light glinting off the polished marble, creating a haunting, wavering glow. A long, crimson carpet stretched from the entrance to the central platform, where a simple yet elegant coffin lay, draped with the emblem of the Free Mobian Empire—a tribute to a fallen hero.

Manic stood at the podium, his green eyes dull with sorrow, taking in the somber scene before him. His hands gripped the edges of the stand, knuckles white, as if anchoring himself against the storm of emotions raging within. He took a deep breath, trying to keep his voice from cracking as he began.

"I never imagined this would be our last mission together," he started, his voice trembling slightly, the weight of the moment pressing down on him. The hall remained eerily quiet, as though the air itself held its breath. "I'm so tired of death… of destruction taking away the people I care about."

Manic paused, lifting his eyes to the gathered crowd. "Sol was more than just my lieutenant. He was my brother in every sense of the word. I remember one mission—we were deep in enemy territory, and everything went wrong. We got separated from the rest of Alpha, pinned down in an abandoned village. The only way out was through a heavily guarded bridge. I thought for sure that it was the end of the line for us."

Manic smiled faintly, his gaze distant as he recalled the memory. "But Sol… Sol had this way of looking at impossible odds and just laughing in their face. He gave me this grin, that same confident grin he always had, and he said, 'Cap, let's show them what we're made of.' And before I could argue, he was already moving. He took out two guards silently, then signaled me to move forward. I followed his lead, and somehow, we managed to take that bridge without raising an alarm. Just the two of us, against what felt like the whole world."

Manic's voice grew stronger as he spoke, a mix of pride and pain evident in his tone. "We made it out that day because of Sol's bravery. He never hesitated, never faltered. He was always ready to do whatever it took for the mission, for his team. From here on out, I swear on my honor, Sol, I will finish what we started—in honor of you and all those who have been lost to this damn war."

His voice wavered when he spoke Sol's name, the raw grief cutting through, unrestrained. He stepped down from the podium, his shoulders sagging, each step heavier than the last, burdened by the promise he had made.

As Manic stepped away, Shadow rose from his seat, his expression stoic, though his crimson eyes held a storm of emotions beneath the surface. His stride to the podium was purposeful, each step echoing with authority and restrained grief.

"When Sol first joined our ranks alongside Manic and Razor, I saw in him what I see in very few—pure, unyielding courage," Shadow began, his deep voice resonating throughout the hall. "He wasn't the fastest or the strongest, but his heart… his heart was unmatched."

Shadow paused, his eyes momentarily distant, as if replaying the memory in his mind. "I remember a mission debrief, deep in the canyons. Our Delta team was surrounded, outnumbered—death seemed inevitable."

He let the memory fill the space for a heartbeat, the tension palpable.

"Sol wasn't worried about his own safety. While we strategized in the command room, trying to find a solution, he was already in motion. We were prepping Charlie Team to assist, but Sol was out there, already taking down two enemy snipers—barehanded—before they could take aim. He directed Delta to safety while under fire, unyielding in his efforts."

Shadow paused, his gaze sweeping across the crowd, the intensity in his eyes holding them captive. "He was the epitome of fearlessness. And that fearlessness, alongside Captain Manic's courage and the skills of the squad, led them to victory, time and time again."

A faint smile ghosted across Shadow's face, a rare expression of warmth. "I knew then that Sol was something else. A guy like him wouldn't back down—not for anything. He belonged with Alpha, under Manic's command, taking on the toughest operations we had. And when we told him the kind of missions they'd be tackling, he didn't flinch—he grinned."

Shadow's voice softened, but his words were no less intense. "He was the kind of soldier you wanted by your side in the worst of times. He didn't fear death, and he sure as hell didn't fear fighting for those he cared about."

Shadow paused again, his gaze daring anyone to deny his words. "He wasn't just a soldier. He was our friend. He became our brother. And he died the way he lived—on the front line, in the thick of it, defending his family without hesitation."

With that, Shadow stepped away from the podium, returning to his place beside Manic, his expression unreadable, though the emotion in his eyes remained.

Miles, the Emperor of the Free Mobian Empire, rose next. His sapphire eyes glistened with unshed tears as he approached the center of the hall. He raised a hand, and silence fell over the room once more.

"This past evening, we lost a truly noble friend, comrade, and brother," Miles began, his voice both firm and filled with sorrow. "He gave his life doing what he loved best—fighting. And he died fighting to save another. Captain Manic was mere seconds from death before Sol stepped into the line of fire, sacrificing himself and taking on the enemy with a ferocity that rivaled even that of the ancient beasts."

Miles' gaze turned to the coffin where Sol's body lay beneath the emblem of the empire, his voice faltering slightly. "He dispatched the enemy with such speed and force that they didn't stand a chance. And yet, even in his final moments, as his life slipped away, he still looked to his captain… and gave him a thumbs-up. That was Sol—he never backed down, not even in the face of death."

The Emperor paused, his hand clenching at his side as he struggled to hold back his emotions. "He will forever be remembered as one of the few, the proud, who went down fighting. For as it has been said, 'Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one's life for one's friends.' And Sol embodied that sentiment."

Miles looked out at the mourners, his voice growing more powerful, filled with the strength of his conviction. "Sol was a hero, not just because of his bravery on the battlefield, but because of his heart. He fought, not for glory, not for praise, but for the people he cared about—for all of us. He was the type of man who would rather give his life a thousand times over than let any one of us suffer."

A bittersweet smile crossed Miles' lips as he continued. "I remember, not too long ago, Sol tried to take on Shadow in a sparring match. He was so determined to prove himself. Shadow held him off for a while, but in the end, Sol nearly had him pinned." Miles let out a small chuckle, his eyes meeting Shadow's for a moment, a flicker of warmth passing between them. "Almost. He almost bested Shadow that day. And the grin he wore afterward… it wasn't because he lost—it was because he pushed himself further than anyone expected, even Shadow."

A soft snicker escaped Miles, and a few smiles broke out among the mourners—an unexpected but welcome lightening of the mood. Shadow allowed a faint smirk, his eyes softening, though he shook his head slightly, as if acknowledging Sol's audacity.

Miles continued, his voice taking on a more solemn tone. "Sol gave everything he had, every time. He wasn't just a soldier. He was a protector, a friend, a brother. And in the end, he gave his life to protect what mattered most—his family. That is what makes him a hero. Not his skill, not his strength, but his heart."

Miles took a deep breath, stepping back from the podium. "Let us honor his memory by continuing the fight, by standing together as he stood for us. Let us not let his sacrifice be in vain. Sol lives on in each of us, in every victory we achieve and in every life we save."

He bowed his head, his eyes closing for a moment of silent reflection, and then returned to his place among the mourners. The hall remained still, even the air itself seemed to carry the weight of Sol's sacrifice. The solemn murmur of remembrance began to fill the space, the legacy of a hero etched into the hearts of all those present.

As Miles stepped back from the podium, he glanced across the great hall, his voice soft but steady as he addressed the gathered crowd. "If anyone else would like to say a few words in honor of our fallen brother, the floor is open to you."

The silence that followed was thick, weighed down by grief and the enormity of the loss. For a moment, it seemed no one would speak. Then, from the back of the hall, the twins, Garrett and Sarah, exchanged a glance. Garrett, the more stoic of the two, gave a slight nod to his sister before they both stood and made their way to the front. There was a quiet understanding between them. They weren't stepping up to speak about a super soldier or someone who had lorded his abilities over them; they were talking about their friend. The two stood side by side, supporting each other as they approached the podium.

Garrett was the first to speak, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. "Sol wasn't... I mean, he wasn't the kind of guy you could forget. But not because he led us or gave orders or anything like that. He was just... always there. He was the guy who had your back, no questions asked."

He looked over at Sarah, who smiled softly, picking up where Garrett left off. "Yeah, it wasn't like he was trying to be some big-shot hero or anything with his actions. Sol just... cared. He cared about all of us. Even when we first were brought in to the suicide squads, before we were a part of alpha… we were fresh off the cut and trying to figure out where we fit in, he was the one who made us feel like we belonged."

Garrett chuckled lightly. "Remember that time we got pinned down on that supply run, and Sol kept cracking those awful jokes over the radio to keep us calm? We were all thinking we weren't getting out of there, but he... he made us laugh in the middle of the worst situation. That's who Sol was. He didn't let fear or stress break him. He just kept going, making sure everyone else was okay first."

Sarah smiled, her eyes misty with the memory. "He wasn't about giving orders or playing the hero. He was about looking out for the team… heck, even other teams. Sol was always in alpha, but he would always check in on people from tango, charlie, even the foxtrotters- er, foxtrot." The nickname elicited laughter throughout the hall as she continued. "Like the time I thought I screwed up an op—he didn't yell, didn't make me feel worse. He just sat with me in the commons before debrief, gave me some advice, and reminded me that we're all imperfect. That mistakes happen. He always knew the right thing to say, even if it was something simple."

Garrett nodded. "Yeah, simple but solid. That was Sol. A good friend. The kind you could always count on, no matter what. He wasn't the loudest in the room, but he was the one you trusted when things got real."

Sarah wiped her eyes quickly before continuing. "We weren't just squadmates. We were partners, friends, and Sol always made sure we never forgot that. He might be gone, but everything he did, everything he was... it'll stick with us."

They stepped back from the podium, leaving behind not just words of respect, but the kind of warmth that comes from talking about a true friend.

After a brief silence, Aster and Zara exchanged a glance before walking toward the podium together, their presence commanding but casual. Aster, the quieter of the two, spoke first.

"Sol," Aster began, "he was a fighter, yeah. But not just because of this war. He fought for us, for his friends. He wasn't out there for glory or medals—he was there because he wanted to make sure we all made it through to see another day."

Zara nodded, her usually sharp tone softening as she spoke. "He always had that quiet kind of bravery, you know? Not the loud, boastful kind, but the kind that just... showed up. Whether it was pulling us out of a mess or staying up late helping me work through some tech problem, Sol was always there when you needed him."

Aster smiled slightly, remembering. "And he never complained about it. Even when we gave him grief about being too serious or told him he was overthinking something—he'd just shrug and keep doing what he was doing. He was stubborn like that."

Zara let out a soft laugh. "Yeah, stubborn as hell. But in the best way. And now? I guess we'll just have to be stubborn for him. Keep pushing forward like he always did."

Aster gave a small nod, looking out at the gathered group. "He was our friend, not some fearless leader or hero in shining armor. Just... a good guy who cared enough to fight beside us."

With that, they stepped back, leaving the room in quiet reflection once more, their words hanging in the air—a tribute to a soldier, but more importantly, a friend.

The room fell into stunned silence as Razor, usually the most silent and reserved of them all, stood up from his seat. His eyes were downcast, and he walked toward the podium with an awkward hesitation, as if he weren't sure he belonged up there. The others exchanged glances, surprised that Razor, of all people, was going to speak.

He reached the podium and stood there for a long moment, gripping the edges as if they might give him some kind of support. Razor opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. His gaze scanned the floor, his lips trembling as he tried to form a sentence.

A single sob escaped his throat, raw and unrestrained, and in that instant, the dam broke. Razor started blubbering, his shoulders shaking uncontrollably as tears streamed down his face. His hands flew to cover his eyes, but it was too late—he was completely overwhelmed.

Without hesitation, Sarah and Garrett rushed up to him. They each took an arm, pulling him into a tight embrace, offering him the comfort he clearly needed. Garrett placed a steady hand on Razor's back while Sarah murmured soft reassurances, her own tears beginning to pool in her eyes.

Razor stood there, hunched over, his body wracked with sobs. His breaths came in gasps as he fought to regain control, his voice barely above a whisper as he managed to croak out, "He was my friend…"

The room was deathly quiet now, everyone holding their breath, waiting for him to continue. Razor's grip tightened around the microphone, his knuckles white as he tried to steady himself. With tear-streaked cheeks, he looked up at the faces of his comrades, his voice cracking as he continued, "I haven't got many of 'em… not friends like that. Sol... he was one of the good ones. One of the few."

The weight of his words hung heavy in the air, his pain palpable to everyone present. Razor shook his head, swallowing hard before whispering, "I'm gonna miss him… I already do." His voice broke completely on the last word, and he hung his head, as if the enormity of his loss had finally caught up to him.

Sarah and Garrett tightened their hold on him, sharing in his grief as Razor's quiet, anguished words seemed to echo in the great hall. There were no grand speeches here, no heroic declarations—just the raw, aching truth of a soldier mourning his friend.

The room was silent, save for the sound of Razor's quiet sobs, and in that silence, every person present felt the depth of the loss in a way words could never fully capture.

Miles approached the stand, his movements deliberate, each step resonating with an unspoken strength. His eyes, though calm, held a depth of emotion that spoke to the sorrow of everyone present. When he reached Razor, he placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, offering silent support. Razor, still trembling with grief, looked up at Miles, his eyes red and raw.

Without a word, Miles pulled Razor into a firm, tender embrace. The room remained silent, the only sound being Razor's ragged breaths as he clung to Miles. Leaning in, Miles whispered, his voice soft and full of understanding, "Well done, Razor... well done."

Razor nodded, his tears still falling, but a hint of strength seemed to return to him. After a few seconds, he stepped back, his shoulders a little less hunched, the weight of his grief shared and lessened by those around him. Sarah and Garrett moved to his side, guiding him back to his seat as the room remained still, their collective sorrow palpable.

Miles turned to face the crowd, his gaze sweeping over them. His voice, though gentle, carried a sense of finality. "Are there any more who wish to speak?"

The hall fell into a solemn silence, as if everyone was weighing their words, unsure if anything more could be said to add to the tribute. The silence stretched on, heavy with the aching loss they all felt. Finally, Miles took a deep breath and nodded in understanding.

"Then, we shall end this ceremony here," he said, his voice reverent. "I will ask you all to stand and the pallbearers escort Sol from these chambers, for the last time."

Manic and the rest of the team rose from their seats, moving with a quiet determination. Together, they approached Sol's coffin, their faces a mix of grief and pride. Each of them took hold of the handles, lifting the weight of their fallen comrade. The sound of their footsteps filled the hall, steady and unified as they carried Sol toward the exit.

As the coffin passed, everyone in the room, including Miles, stood to attention. In a single, solemn motion, they raised their hands in salute, their faces set in a silent tribute. Miles stood tall, his salute unwavering and crisp, embodying the respect they all held for Sol.

The procession moved slowly, reverently, until the coffin disappeared through the doors, leaving the hall in a profound, heavy silence.

The Next Day:

Miles sat back in his chair, his fingers steepled as he listened intently. Across from him, Shadow leaned against the wall, arms crossed, eyes as sharp as ever. Knuckles, his expression stern, sat with a quiet intensity, while Manic led the conversation, his hands waving animatedly as he recounted the mission.

"After the diversion was set, we breached the castle with relative ease," Manic began, his eyes flickering with the adrenaline of the memory. "Kaid's maps were spot on, and we knew exactly where to go. We were in and at the chamber within moments of breach—everything was smooth. I mean, I expected more resistance, but we moved like clockwork." He shot a glance at Miles, a grin breaking across his face. "Almost too smooth."

Manic leaned forward, his grin fading slightly as his tone grew serious. "That's when one of their stealth agents got the drop on me. I didn't even hear him coming. I felt that cold blade right at my throat." He paused, the memory sending a shiver down his spine. "But Sol... Sol was like a shadow himself. He took that guy out before I could even blink. One second, I'm staring death in the face, and the next, Sol's got him pinned. It was like... wham! WHAM!" Manic mimicked the blows with his hands, a grin returning. "The guy didn't stand a chance. He was out cold."

Knuckles raised an eyebrow, visibly impressed. Shadow shifted slightly in his corner but remained silent, his eyes never leaving Manic.

"Anyway," Manic continued, his tone more serious now, "with that out of the way, we secured the emerald. That's when things started to heat up. The alarms went off—we must've tripped some kind of silent alert, or maybe they were just faster than we thought. The second we heard them, E buzzed in. She saved our skins with that stealth upgrade, no doubt about it."

Manic turned to Shadow, his grin widening again. "By the way, thank you. That little upgrade? Lifesaver. Literally."

Shadow merely nodded, his expression unreadable, but there was a glint of acknowledgment in his eyes. Miles listened in silence, absorbing every detail, his expression thoughtful.

After a moment, Miles spoke, his voice calm and steady. "It seems everything went according to plan, thanks in no small part to Sol's actions." He paused, the mention of Sol's name heavy in the air. "We'll make sure his sacrifice wasn't in vain."

The room fell silent for a beat, the weight of their fallen comrade lingering between them. Miles finally nodded, a determined glint in his eyes. "Let's honor him by finishing what we started. We move forward—together."

Shadow gave a small nod, his expression unreadable.

Manic turned back to Miles, his tone growing heavier. "We made it to the beach, but that's when everything went sideways. The damage to the suits was worse than we thought—guess all the hits finally caught up with us. They started glitching out, flickering, and eventually just... stopped working altogether. We were fully exposed, no tech, no cloaking—nothing."

His hand instinctively went to his injured arm, the memory clearly still fresh. "That's when I got hit. I didnt register it at first, but the next thing I knew, my arm was practically hanging by a thread. The pain was like hot pulsating fire, searing through every nerve with every heartbeat. I couldn't hold my gun up, couldn't keep my focus to fight. I thought it was over."

Manic's voice faltered, and for a brief moment, his usual energy seemed to fade. He quickly composed himself, but the weight of the memory lingered.

"Then Sol... he saved my life. Again." Manic's voice grew softer as the weight of the memory settled over him. "He stepped in without hesitation, took the hit meant for me. And when he charged that guy..." Manic's eyes glazed over, reliving the moment. "He moved like a shadow—swift, unstoppable. The enemy didn't even know what hit him. Sol was relentless, but... that was it for him. The enemy's weapon literally tore through him… He didn't make it after that."

The room fell silent, the loss of Sol hanging in the air like a thick fog. Manic looked down, his usual spark dimmed.

"I radioed E for help, and that's when things turned around. She deployed Shadow—" Manic grinned, trying to shake off the heaviness. "And I'm talking badass power armor! Like, this thing was straight out of a legend. Shadow swooped in and tore through those guys like they were paper. I mean, it was a sight to behold." Manic chuckled, but it was tinged with sadness.

"That's how we got out," Manic finished, leaning back in his chair. "We fought like hell, lost Sol in the process, but we secured the emerald and made it out alive. Barely. But we did it."

He paused, letting the room sit with the weight of his words. Miles nodded slowly, his face a mask of quiet contemplation. Knuckles grunted in approval, and even Shadow gave a slight tilt of his head—a rare sign of respect.

"Good work," Miles finally said, his voice measured but filled with a solemn respect. "You and your team did well. Sol would be proud."

Miles studied Manic's face as he finished recounting the mission. There was something in the way Manic lingered on his last words, how his gaze shifted slightly to the floor. The usual confidence was still there, but something darker had started to creep in.

"Manic," Miles said gently, leaning forward. "There's more you're not saying."

Manic's jaw tightened, his fingers tapping restlessly against the table. He let out a shaky breath, eyes flicking up to meet Miles' before drifting away again.

"I made the call to engage," Manic finally muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. "If I hadn't... if I hadn't given the order, maybe Sol would still be here. Maybe... maybe he'd still be alive."

The room went still. Even Knuckles, who was usually quick to respond with a tough-love approach, remained silent, letting the weight of the admission settle. Shadow's gaze remained fixed on Manic, his eyes unreadable, but Miles could see the tension in his jaw.

Miles let the silence hang for a moment before speaking, his voice calm, deliberate. "Manic, you can't shoulder this alone."

Manic's head snapped up, eyes filled with guilt and frustration. "But it was my call, Miles. I told them to go in, to fight. Sol trusted me, and now he's—" His voice cracked, and he clenched his fists, trying to hold back the tide of emotion. "He's gone because of it."

Miles stood up slowly and moved around the table to stand in front of Manic, placing a steady hand on his shoulder. "Manic, I hear you." His voice was gentle yet filled with conviction. "I understand why you feel this way. I know the weight of making decisions that affect the people you care about. But you didn't send Sol to his death. He made his own choice to protect us, just like we all do when we head into the field. We all know what could happen."

Manic shook his head, but Miles held his gaze, his hand steady on Manic's shoulder.

"You're the leader of the Alpha Suicide Squad for a reason, Manic," Miles continued, his tone softening but still resolute. "You're trusted to make the tough calls—the ones no one else wants to make—and you've proven yourself time and time again. Sol didn't follow you just because of an order. He did it because he believed in you. He knew exactly what he was fighting for."

Manic's eyes brimmed with unshed tears, his shoulders trembling as the burden of it all pressed down on him.

"This is war," Miles went on, his voice quieter now, filled with empathy. "We've all lost people we care about, and it never gets easier. Sol knew what he was stepping into, but he made his choice because you mean something to this team. He saved you because he knew you were worth saving. We need you. I need you."

Manic's breath hitched, and he wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand, trying to steady himself. "I just... I feel like I failed him."

"You didn't," Miles said firmly, his expression softening. "Sol knew the risks, and he chose to act because he cared about all of us—about you. If he hadn't, we wouldn't be having this conversation right now. It's not just about knowing the risk; it's about standing up and doing what needs to be done, even when it's hard. And yes, sometimes we lose people we love, but we honor them by continuing to fight for what they believed in. I know you can do that."

Manic nodded slowly, his resolve building again, though the pain was still raw. "You're right... I just... I needed to hear that."

Miles gave Manic's shoulder a reassuring squeeze, his eyes filled with a deep, shared understanding. "We've all been there, Manic. You're not alone in this."

He stepped back, his gaze never leaving Manic's. The words he spoke carried the weight of a lifetime of pain and struggle, but also the strength that had kept them moving forward. "You are Alpha Team—the best of the best in the Suicide Squads. You get the toughest missions, but you get the hardest ones too. You don't always come back whole, and sometimes you don't come back at all. But you fight for each other. That's what Sol did. That's what you'll keep doing."

Manic nodded, this time with more conviction, though the pain was still there, a shadow behind his eyes. It wasn't suffocating him anymore. He had his team, and in that moment, he knew that they all shared the same burden, each of them carrying a part of the weight that he bore.

Miles returned to his seat, the silence of the room echoing the unspoken bond between them. In the stillness, there was a sense of unity—a promise that they would continue on, despite the losses, despite the pain.

Manic leaned forward in his chair, a spark of anticipation flickering in his eyes, as if grasping onto hope amidst the darkness. "So what now? Do we have a lead on the next emerald?"

Miles leaned back, his lips curving into a knowing smile. "You mean the last emerald?"

Manic's eyes widened, the tiredness momentarily replaced with a flash of excitement. "Wait—are you saying we almost have them all?"

Miles nodded. "That's right. But here's the catch—Alpha Team is sitting this one out."

Manic's brow furrowed, and he leaned forward, confusion and frustration evident. "What? Why? We've come this far—"

Miles raised a hand, gently cutting off his protest. "Not because you can't handle it, Manic. It's a more personal endeavor this time. I need Alpha, Bravo, and Delta Teams to focus on causing enough mayhem to draw attention away from the actual mission."

Manic opened his mouth to argue, but he caught himself, inhaling sharply, the words dying in his throat. He exhaled, the tension easing from his shoulders. "I... Understood, sir. I apologize for my overstep."

Miles's eyes softened, and he chuckled warmly. "No need to apologize. I love your eagerness to jump into action. It's what makes you such a great leader." He leaned forward, his voice gentler, more intimate. "But trust me on this one. We'll need your chaos elsewhere while I take this mission into my own hands."

Manic nodded, though the energy still buzzed beneath his skin. "Alright. But just know, we're ready whenever you need us."

Miles's smile was soft, almost wistful. "I know you are."

The air shifted as Shadow, who had been quietly observing from a corner, suddenly stepped forward. His calm demeanor shifted to one of intensity as he fixed his gaze on Miles. "I need a word with you, alone," he said, his tone brooking no argument.

The room fell silent, the tension palpable as the Manic quietly rose from his seat, then slowly filed out. The door clicked shut, leaving Miles and Shadow alone in the room.

Shadow's expression darkened, the frustration he'd been holding back surfacing all at once. His voice was low, a quiet storm of fury. "Are you out of your damn mind, Miles? This mission is suicide! You have an empire to run, people depending on you, and you want to throw yourself into the line of fire like this? What are we even doing here if you're going to act like some reckless soldier again?"

Miles leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest, meeting Shadow's gaze with quiet defiance. "Have you forgotten that we used to be the ones doing all the dangerous missions? We've always been in the line of fire."

Shadow's hands balled into fists, his body trembling with restrained emotion. "That was before. Before you took this position of leadership, before people started looking to you to lead, not just fight!"

Miles's eyes flashed with anger, the composure he fought so hard to maintain cracking. "Oh, so now that I'm a leader, I suddenly mean something to people? Now my life has extra value just because I sit in a fancy chair?"

Shadow's voice was cold and sharp, each word slicing through the air like a knife. "You know damn well that's not what I said."

With a sudden, violent motion, Miles slammed his fists down on the desk, rattling everything on its surface as he stood. "Damn it, Shadow! This is the final piece to a puzzle that should have never been made! If I had paid attention to the warnings, maybe—maybe we wouldn't be in this mess right now! Maybe Sonic would still be alive! Maybe Cosmo would still be here!" His voice cracked, and a raw, guttural sound of grief escaped him. "You don't get to lecture me on the dangers of these missions. Or did you forget that we've all fought in planet-ending wars? I know the RISKS—I know all too well!" Miles's fury blazed like a fire, the pain behind his eyes now an inferno.

Shadow's eyes widened, but he stood his ground, his own face etched with determination. "You are the leader of the free world, Miles. You are the People's Emperor. They have put their faith in you, and to risk everything on some fool's mission is utterly foolish, especially for you."

Miles moved from his chair, closing the distance between them, grabbing Shadow by the collar, his voice a low snarl, trembling with rage. "I'm the one who let them die. Emperor or not, people look to me to lead when I'm the one who caused this mess! Look at my track record, Shadow! I fired the shot… I killed Cosmo, and then—and then, when we got her back, when things in my life finally started looking up, I went and ruined it again." His voice rose, breaking, and then he was screaming, his voice raw and hoarse, echoing off the walls. "I messed everything up in the first place and let my brother and Cosmo die! What kind of leader does that make me, Shadow?"

Miles's entire body was shaking, his grip on Shadow's collar tightening as he leaned in, his voice cracking with every word. "I'm sure as hell no leader... I'm the cause of this wholl fucking screw up…" Miles voice grows quiet as realzation of himself worth sets in, "I'm the no good, worthless garbage that killed them..."

For a moment, the room fell silent, the echoes of Miles's confession fading into nothingness. His chest heaved, his breath coming in ragged gasps, the years of guilt, pain, and self-hatred pouring out of him in a rush that left him weak, trembling.

Then, in a move that caught Miles completely off guard, Shadow's hands moved to his, gently prying them away from his collar, and before Miles could react, Shadow pulled him into a tight embrace.

"What the hell are you—? Let go of me!" Miles's voice was raw, filled with an almost desperate anger, but the fight had left him. He tried weakly to push away, but Shadow's grip remained unyielding. He held on, silent and immovable, weathering Miles's struggles.

"Let me go, Shadow!" Miles's voice cracked, a final, futile plea.

But Shadow didn't let go. He held on, firm and unwavering, as the years of grief, guilt, and fear that Miles had carried finally erupted from deep within him. He held on as Miles's resistance faded, as his struggles weakened into nothing more than a trembling, heart-wrenching sob.

Miles's fists, which had been pounding weakly against Shadow's chest, dropped limply to his sides. He collapsed against Shadow, his entire body shaking with the force of his grief. The dam had finally shattered, and the years of anguish, of carrying the weight of his failures alone, came crashing down. He could no longer hold back the tears, and they poured from him, raw and unrelenting.

Shadow stood there, holding him, his own eyes glistening with an emotion he rarely allowed himself to feel. The realization struck him in that moment, with a clarity that left him breathless—Sonic had been more than just a hero to Miles. He had been the older brother Miles needed, the one who had given him comfort, guidance, and strength. And in his absence, Miles had been left alone, with no one to turn to, no one to lean on when the world became too heavy.

And now, in this rare and vulnerable moment, Shadow no longer saw the hardened leader, the brilliant tactician, the one who had built an empire from the ashes of his losses. Instead, he saw Tails—a broken, empty Tails Prower, a young fox who had lost his brother, who had tried so desperately to fill the void left behind, and who had been crushed under the weight of his own expectations.

Shadow understood now, perhaps for the first time, just how much Miles had been holding in, how much he had hidden from everyone, even himself. And Shadow knew he couldn't replace Sonic—no one could. But maybe, just maybe, he could fill the void, even if only for this moment. He could be the strength Miles needed, the comfort he had been denied for so long.

Shadow's arms tightened around Miles, and he rested his chin gently on top of Miles's head, his voice a quiet murmur. "I know, Tails. I know."

The words were simple, but they carried a depth of understanding that cut through the fog of Miles's pain. Shadow wasn't trying to fix anything, wasn't trying to tell him it would be okay. He was simply there, offering what he could, and in that moment, it was enough.

Miles's sobs gradually subsided, his breath hitching as he tried to regain some semblance of control. He felt the exhaustion of years bearing down on him, the weight of everything finally released, if only a little. He had been so strong for so long, had fought so hard to keep it all inside, and now, with Shadow holding him, he realized how desperately he had needed this—how desperately he had needed someone to see him, not as the leader, not as the empire's pillar, but as Tails.

Finally, Shadow gently pulled back, just enough to look down into Miles's tear-streaked face. His voice was soft, yet filled with an intensity that cut through the haze of Miles's sorrow. "You just told Manic that Sol's death wasn't his fault. When will you release yourself from that same burden?"

Miles tried to shake his head, but Shadow wouldn't let him look away. He kept one hand on Miles's shoulder, his grip firm but gentle, his eyes searching Miles's, refusing to let him retreat into the safety of his guilt.

"Sonic was out there doing what he did best—trying to save the world. And Cosmo... Cosmo was doing the same."

Miles's voice was barely a whisper, each word choked with tears. "I wasn't there. I should have been there."

Shadow's eyes softened further, and his voice dropped to almost a whisper. "What do you mean?"

Miles's voice broke as the words tumbled out, raw and unfiltered, as if they had been locked away for too long. "I was locked in my workshop, Shadow. I hid... I hid like a coward, tinkering with gadgets, pretending that hero work wasn't my responsibility. When I heard the alarms, the chaos outside... I tried to get out, but my own damn failsafes locked me in… I stayed in that room. And when it was all over, Sonic... and Cosmo... they were gone."

Shadow listened, the weight of Miles's confession heavy in the air. The silence that followed was deafening, broken only by the distant hum of the city beyond the walls.

"Miles," Shadow said softly, his voice a beacon in the darkness. "You're not a god. You couldn't have known. You've been carrying this weight for too long. You told Manic that this is what the squads are for—to face the hardest missions. This... this war, these losses... they were never just on you."

Miles's knees felt weak, and he sank back into his chair, his head in his hands. "I just... I just don't know how to let it go."

Shadow crouched down in front of him, forcing Miles to meet his gaze. "You honor them by leading, by doing what they can't anymore. But running yourself into the ground with guilt? That's not honoring them. That's punishing yourself. And it won't bring them back."

Miles didn't respond right away, the words sinking in slowly, painfully.

"You can't do this mission because you think it'll make things right," Shadow continued. "That's not how this works. You have to do it because it's the right thing to do—not to punish yourself."

Miles took a shuddering breath, nodding weakly. Shadow stood, his hand still on Miles's shoulder, offering a quiet strength.

"You're not alone in this, Miles," Shadow said. "You never were."

And for the first time in what felt like ages, Miles allowed himself to believe it.

After what seemed like an eternity, Shadow suddenly broke the silence with a firm, calm declaration, "I'm coming with you."

Miles looked up from his seat, surprised by Shadow's words. "Wait, what?"

"Don't," Shadow interjected before Miles could protest further. "This isn't up for debate. You know exactly what's at stake here. I can't stop you from doing what you think is right... personal feelings aside. But I can damn sure be there to keep you alive."

Miles stood, a smile forming across his face. "I can accept those terms."

With that, Miles reached into his desk drawer and pulled out a manila envelope, sliding it across to Shadow. "This is the location of a secret underground bunker. They call it a D.U.M.B. – Deep Underground Military Base. It's where the Order of Eyes is rumored to be operating from. And they possess the Amber Emerald."

Shadow's expression grew more serious as he opened the envelope, glancing over the intel. "Why in the hell would you go after this alone?" he asked quietly, but the frustration was evident.

Miles sighed, leaning back in his chair. "Because single cells are a lot less easy to spot. With our tech, I'm betting we can slip in relatively unnoticed."

Shadow shook his head, still clearly displeased, but he said nothing further as the weight of the mission settled between them.

Shadow's eyes narrowed as he studied the document before him, the weight of what Miles had just said sinking in. He couldn't help but clench his fists, tension radiating through him.

"You're betting a lot on 'relatively unnoticed,' Miles," Shadow said, his voice a low growl. "We're walking into a den of vipers, and you're acting like it's just another infiltration mission. You do realize what this place is, right? The Order of Eyes isn't some rogue faction—these people have been pulling the strings from behind the curtain for years. They've already taken enough from us."

Miles leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms, meeting Shadow's intensity with a calm exterior that barely masked his own inner storm. "You think I don't know that?" he said quietly, but there was steel in his voice. "The difference is, this is personal. I've been chasing this for too long to sit back now."

Shadow stood from his seat, pacing in front of the desk. "Personal or not, you can't take chances like this without pepper preparation. You've already lost too much. We've all lost too much."

"I know what's at stake." Miles's words were measured, but the tension behind them was palpable. "But every second we wait, every moment we hesitate, the Order of Eyes grows stronger. If we don't get that last emerald, none of this will matter. The empire, the squads, everything—we'll all be under their thumb."

Shadow stopped, turning to face Miles fully. His expression softened slightly, but the fire behind his eyes remained. "And you truly think going alone, is the answer?"

"It's the only option," Miles said. "I won't risk more lives than I have to. If we go in guns blazing, they'll see us coming from miles away. But if it's just me—and now you—we stand a chance of slipping in and taking them by surprise. Small, agile, and efficient. That's how we win this."

Shadow sighed, rubbing a hand over his face as if trying to scrub away the frustration. He looked back at Miles, then at the envelope on the desk. "Fine. I get it," he said after a long pause. "But we're going to do this smart. No unnecessary risks, no heroics. We get in, get the emerald, and get out."

Miles nodded. "That's the plan."

Shadow eyed him carefully. "And no secrets, Miles. I know you. You're thinking ten steps ahead, and I need to know everything if I'm going to keep you alive."

A faint smile crossed Miles's face as he stood up and extended his hand. "Deal."

Shadow took it, gripping tightly. "We leave when you're ready."