The elevator doors closed behind him, and Shadow stepped out into the dimly lit labyrinth that made up the parking complex beneath GUN's headquarters. Not all agents lived on site, and the field agents also needed somewhere to store their military-issue vehicles when they were off-duty.

He rounded the corner, brushing past a concrete pillar. In the furthest recesses of the bottom floor, between a grey sedan and a four-wheel drive armoured truck, was a chopper-style motorcycle. He walked over, spinning his key fob in his fingers.

His bike had originally been a standard-issue motorcycle emblazoned with the GUN logo. He'd commandeered it in Westopolis and immediately used it to ram a Black Arms soldier, killing the creature in the process. He'd had no knowledge of the extent of his powers at the time. All he'd known was that he needed Chaos Energy to move and fight. He quickly realised that if he switched tactics, burning fuel to move and using guns to fight, then he would be able to conserve his power for a time when he truly needed it.

Shadow clicked the key fob. The red underglow lights on the bike illuminated. He ran a hand over the chassis, and dust came away on his gloved fingertips.

When he'd joined GUN and became a member of Team Dark, Abraham had told him that every GUN unit was required to have a designated vehicle. Rouge already had wings, and giving Omega a vehicle would have been a waste of resources. He had resisted at first. He didn't need a vehicle anymore. He already had his shoes, and he now knew the true extent of his power. But when GUN asked him to return the bike that he'd stolen in Westopolis, he changed his mind. If every GUN unit had to have a designated vehicle … then he wanted to use the one that he'd used from the very beginning.

Shadow climbed onto the bike, putting the heels of his shoes on the foot pegs. As he slid the key into its slot, the bike came to life beneath his hands and the instrument panel powered on, bathing him in crimson light.

After hundreds of sleepless nights, during which he spent more time lying on an undercar roller than in his own bed, the bike was almost unrecognisable. It used to be a cruiser-style bike, and the first thing he'd done to it was scrape off the GUN logo using sandpaper. He'd refitted the exhaust pipes and even added white machine guns … but he'd removed the latter almost immediately. After several years, the bike had been fine-tuned beyond recognition. The obsidian-black paint job shone like fresh ink, the silver chrome of the exposed inner workings glimmered and the placement of the machine guns was now far more inconspicuous.

He'd be lying if he said he'd only spent so much time working on his bike because he didn't need to sleep. It wasn't boredom that had driven him to these lengths. Whenever he became overwhelmed by his lack of agency and lack of control, he would often come here. Because unlike so many other things in his life – including himself – his bike was the one thing he could fix, change and repair.

Shadow leaned on the handlebars and reached out to adjust one of the mirrors. As he angled the mirror, he saw Abraham walk into view behind him. He grimaced, then looked at the mirror again. Even after all the time he'd spent working on the bike, he still hadn't pulled the sticker off the mirror. The text on the sticker was barely legible. Objects in the mirror are closer than they appear.

He pulled the sticker off, turning to throw it away, and accidentally knocked Abraham's arm with his hand.

'Am I going to have to write you up for littering, agent?'

'Just because I keep saving your damn planet doesn't mean that I'm an environmentalist.' Shadow tossed the crumpled sticker into the open toolbox at the back of his parking space, and the rumble of the engine filled the silence. 'What do you want?'

'I'm here to get my car.'

'Oh.' The grey sedan was nondescript, and Shadow hadn't taken notice of the license plate when he'd walked over. He did a double-take and flinched. '… Why did you park next to me?'

'Because someone took my parking spot, and I knew the one next to yours would be empty.'

Shadow recalled the time that someone had sideswiped his bike while parking next to him. Needless to say, that person was no longer working at the organisation. 'Still,' Shadow muttered. 'I'm surprised you were willing to risk it … given what happened the last time you tried doing this.'

Whatever the reason had been, Abraham had parked his car next to Shadow's bike once before. That same night, Shadow had been stencilling and spraypainting the Black Arms logo on the bike's chassis. He'd had earbuds in, and it didn't matter whether the rock music he'd been listening to had been from the 50s or 2000s – he still hadn't heard the sound of Abraham returning to his car. Shadow had whirled around with the paint can still in his hand, leaving a crimson streak across Abraham's car and uniform that looked like a flatline on a heart monitor. Even though Shadow had already violated every policy in the organisation's handbook, it was the first time that he had wondered if he could get fired from the organisation.

Abraham opened the car door and sat on the edge of the driver's seat, bracing his feet against the concrete floor. 'It was a calculated risk.' His eyes twinkled. 'I didn't think there was anything left on that bike for you to paint.'

'Hmph.' Shadow gave him a sideways glance. 'You're leaving early. Aren't you needed here, with everything that … happened yesterday?'

'Yes.' Abraham's smile faded. 'But things are under control, and my daughter asked me to come to the hospital.'

Shadow's eyes widened. His hands clenched on the throttle grips, and the bike's engine snarled, startling them both. 'Sorry.'

'It's fine.'

'… Yesterday, when I said that we should cancel the program … I forgot about your grandchild.'

Abraham's expression was unreadable. 'I gathered as much.'

'It wouldn't have changed what I said.' Shadow loosened his hold on the throttle grips and stared at the instrument panel until the lights began to blur. He'd wrestled with false guilt for so long that he still found it difficult to navigate situations where guilt was actually warranted. 'But I still could have … remembered.'

'You were shell-shocked. I'm not going to hold it against you. And you were already clear that you're not doing this for my family's sake.'

Shadow looked away. 'I thought your daughter had a partner. Where is he in all this? Why isn't he at the hospital?'

'He's working. It's the only way he knows how to cope.'

'His child is dying, and he's working?'

'Children learn from their parents' example, and I set a terrible one for him.' Shadow's face must have betrayed his confusion, because Abraham said, 'I was referring to my daughter-in-law before. Her husband is my son.'

'… Right.'

'I threw myself into my work to cope with losing my family. But I know my wife and children often suffered because of it.'

Shadow watched Abraham out of the corner of his eye. Regardless of Abraham's stated motives, it didn't change the fact that the man had not only survived the GUN massacre aboard the Ark, but also become the commander of the same organisation that had slaughtered his entire family. Even if he said that he used his work as a coping mechanism, it would have taken an unimaginable amount of manoeuvring and hard work to get where he was today.

'You don't have to justify yourself to me,' Shadow said. 'I couldn't care less how you or your family conduct yourselves … And it's not as though I'm any better.'

Because even though Shadow had joined GUN to further his own goals, what would he have done if he hadn't had his work with the organisation to occupy his every waking moment? The only difference between him and Abraham in that regard was that Shadow didn't allow people to get close enough to him in order to suffer because of his choices.

'… When are you going to let me begin investigating what happened?' Shadow asked.

'It hasn't even been five minutes since you apologised for forgetting something,' Abraham said flatly, 'but you've already forgotten why I haven't given you clearance in the first place. 'Did you have an amnesia relapse?'

Shadow stiffened. 'I cooperate with GUN's mandatory psych evaluations. If I'd had a relapse, you would have heard about it by now.'

'… Do you genuinely not understand why I haven't cleared you to investigate yet?'

Shadow raised one hand, flashing invisible double quotes. 'Because you don't want me to lose control and jeopardise the investigation.'

'Because I lost my entire family on board the Ark, Shadow – God forbid that I want to prevent someone who went through the same thing from getting re-traumatised.'

'… Those reasons aren't mutually exclusive.' Shadow revved the engine and glanced behind him, checking his mirrors. 'In the future, I would prefer it if you just refused to give me clearance and be done with it.'

'I would, except you don't know how to take no for an answer – otherwise, we wouldn't be having this conversation. And why do you care whether I give you clearance?' Abraham reached to close the car door, saying, 'You're going to go off on your own no matter what I say –'

'I'm not.'

'Then where are you going with that bike of yours?'

'For a drive.'

'A drive,' Abraham repeated. '… Forgive me if I find that difficult to believe.'

'It's true.' Shadow gritted his teeth. 'I may not like it, but I can acknowledge that I would be a liability if I got involved at this stage.'

'You're not a liability, Shadow.'

'Then what the hell am I?'

'You're emotionally vested in this case. That's not a bad thing. But it's still a risk, for you and everyone else around you.' Abraham's phone beeped, and he looked down. 'Look, I need to go –'

Shadow clamped his hands down on the bike's throttle grips and tore out of his parking space, blazing up the parking complex ramps until he shot out onto the street. He only had a split second to register the fact that the line of cars on the exit ramp was at a standstill. He slammed on the brakes, nearly flying headlong over the handlebars and through the rear windshield of the car in front of him.

The car's driver wrenched open the door. 'Look where you're going, would you –' They took one look at Shadow and shrank back, promptly slamming their door shut again.

Shadow shook his head and manoeuvred his bike to the edge of the exit ramp, looking past the cars in front of him. The streets outside GUN's headquarters were completely gridlocked. The traffic lights were out, and even though there were police attempting to direct traffic, the concourse, its adjoining sidewalks and the roads themselves were awash with news crews and protestors, as well as agents trying to go about their regular business. A line of GUN soldiers with riot shields stood between the concourse and the steps that led up to the building itself.

Shadow shook his head and folded his arms over the handlebars of his bike with a weary sigh. He looked up. Despite the apparent efforts of the window washers scaling the building with Bosun's chairs, GUN's glass facade was still partially stained crimson.

A car pulled up beside him, and Shadow turned to see Abraham wind his window down.

'… Are you sure everything's under control?' Shadow said, jerking a thumb towards the riot squad.

'As much as it can be.' Abraham's phone rang, and he turned away. 'Colette? Yes. I'm heading over. There's traffic. No, there really is traffic – you can turn on the news if you don't believe me. No, I do care, that's why I'm … Hello?' Abraham lowered the phone and sank back in his seat. In spite of himself, Shadow stared at him, only to realise all too late that Abraham could see him in his car's wing mirror.

'What are you waiting for?' Abraham asked, forcing a smile. 'Lane splitting isn't illegal in Central City … not that you give a damn about traffic laws.'

Shadow tossed his head and eyed up the slim gap between the car in front of him and the jersey barrier on the side of the exit ramp. Then he heard the sound of another motorcycle coming up behind him. As another GUN agent on a motorbike shot between him and the barrier, Shadow reached out and grabbed the rear fender of the bike, bringing him to an abrupt halt. Black smoke swirled around them, and the rider let go of the handlebars, stopping the involuntary burnout.

'What the hell is your problem –'

Shadow let go of the bike and held out his hand. 'Give me your helmet.'

'Why should I?!'

'Because there's an extremely high statistical probability that you owe me for saving your ass during a field mission or a military campaign. Helmet. Now.'

'What? No!' the man protested.

'Either you give me that helmet willingly, or I take it off you myself – and there's no guarantee that I don't also take your head off along with it.'

The agent slowly removed his helmet, glaring at him, and Shadow's jaw slackened. 'You've got to be kidding me. I didn't just save you – you're the soldier whose life I spared when raiding GUN's spaceport.'

'I had my orders! And you stole that damn spaceship –'

'Give me that,' Shadow said, swiping the helmet out of his hands. 'Abraham? Keys.'

'What?'

'Keys!' Shadow repeated sharply. 'Your car key. Hurry up.'

Abraham tossed the key through the window, and Shadow caught it without looking, dropping it into the soldier's hands. 'Go park this for us.'

'I'm not a valet –'

'And you're also not dead, but only because I had the decency to activate the your ejector seat instead of killing you. Now shut up and stop arguing.' Shadow turned to Abraham and held up the helmet. 'What are you doing? I thought you were in a hurry.'

Abraham blinked several times. 'Shadow, you don't have to –'

'Just get on the damn bike.'

Abraham hurriedly climbed out of the car and strode over. The soldier paled, and he said, 'Commander Towers … I didn't realise it was you.'

Abraham climbed on the bike and gave the soldier a scathing look. 'And I didn't realise that I had given orders to use lethal force against one of our best agents.'

'T-The chain of command was disrupted –'

Shadow clamped down on the handlebars and slammed one foot against the ground. They shot forward, over the barrier, and hit the ground with a slam, blasting across the concourse and scattering protestors and news reporters before drifting across the sidewalk and onto a road with moving traffic.

Shadow loosened his grip, and they slowed down slightly. The billboards, storefronts and dormant neon lights of Central City passed them by as he weaved through the afternoon traffic.

'… Thanks,' Abraham said.

Shadow looked down and noticed his hands were white-knuckled, gripping the metal handholds on the sides of the bike tightly. 'I was getting sick of listening to him.'

'No, I mean … thank you for this.'

'I'm not doing this for you.' Shadow changed gears and tore through an orange light milliseconds before it turned red. He glanced up, catching a glimpse of a massive electronic billboard on the side of a nearby skyscraper. It was looping news footage from yesterday – his frantic dive into the crowd of protestors, the grenade exploding out of view, and Rouge embracing him beneath the dissipating showers of red paint. 'If I'm not working on this case, then someone else has to – and you can't work on the case if you're stuck in traffic. I'm doing this for myself.'

'Sure. Whatever you say.'

It was at that moment that the geo-locator in Shadow's earpiece decided that he was far enough away from GUN's headquarters to resume playing whatever song he had been listening to the last time he'd used his bike. 'Rocket 88' blasted from his earpiece, and Shadow briefly considered driving headfirst into the nearest traffic pole.

Abraham laughed in disbelief. 'Is that Bill Haley and His Comets?'

'Shut up,' Shadow muttered.

'I'm not making fun of you – it just took me by surprise.'

Shadow looked over his shoulder to retort, but another digital billboard – this time on the side of the street – caught his eye. He slowed to a halt for a red light and gazed at it. This one was also running news coverage. The lazy notes of a tenor saxophone solo echoed in his ears as he stared at two side-by-side images – one was of the placard bearing Maria's twisted likeness and the other was a colourized photograph of Maria's smiling face.

'… Do you know where that photograph is from?' Shadow asked.

Abraham raised up the visor on his helmet. 'It would have to have been taken on the Ark. I can only assume that it was acquired by Maria's family and later archived for its historical significance.'

Maria's family. Her parents. Her little sister.

The light turned green. Shadow swallowed hard, and they shot across the intersection. 'Never mind.'

After an awkward silence, Abraham said. '… I can hear that song through my helmet and over the traffic. You're going to go deaf, Shadow.'

'If I was going to go deaf, it would have already happened by now.' The familiar, distorted sound of a guitar filled his ear, and words – like memories – came unbidden. 'Maria liked this song. We had a record of it on the Ark.' He took a sharp left, putting one foot against the road for balance and cutting a sharp line in the tarmac. '… She said that wanted to go to one of Jackie Brenston's concerts one day.'

Abraham chuckled. 'She also said that she wanted to drive an Oldsmobile 88, even though she was nowhere near old enough to get a license.'

Shadow didn't respond, but a brief smile flickered on his face.

'… It's a bit late to be asking this, but so you know where you're going?'

Shadow gave him a scathing look and slammed one foot against the ground, sliding the bike all the way down the Central City Children's Hospital's driveway up to the main entrance. Sparks scattered in their wake, and smoke rose from the edge of Shadow's shoe. 'Did you really have to ask?'

Abraham got off the bike and nearly fell. He had to grab the rear fender to steady himself. 'I know I've said this before,' he said, removing his helmet, 'but you're actually going to give me a heart attack one day –'

'Dad?'

They both turned as an ambulance pulled out of the driveway, revealing a young woman with smudged glasses, a fraying pink cardigan and mousey hair tied back in a snarled knot.

Abraham briefly rested one hand on Shadow's shoulder before hurrying over to her, tossing the helmet to the ground as she ran into his arms. He wrapped her arms around her, and she buried her face in his shoulder.

Shadow shifted in discomfort and changed gears, checking that the driveway was clear for him to pull out and make his exit. But then he heard Abraham's voice. 'Shadow, you remember Lindsey, right?'

Shadow knew where this was going. Abraham knew that in less than a day, Shadow would be working with his daughter-in-law and her son directly. He had already met Abraham's family – at the man's request – but their first meeting had been an uneasy one, and Shadow had made little effort to smooth things over since.

Shadow gave him a curt nod. 'Yes. If you'll excuse me – I have to be somewhere.'

He didn't have to be anywhere, but Abraham's daughter needed her father more than Shadow needed reassurance that this – whatever this was – would work out.

Abraham gave him a long look. 'Of course. I forgot that you were assigned to Operation Torch?'

'Operation what?'

Abraham dismissed him with a wave, picking up the helmet and escorting his daughter to the doors of the hospital. 'Rouge can fill you in. You better get going.'

Before the sliding doors closed, Abraham glanced over his shoulder and gave Shadow a wink.

Shadow pulled out of the hospital driveway and waited at the intersection. He tapped his earpiece, muting the music. 'Rouge?'

'I'm painting my nails. Can it wait?'

Shadow buried his face in one hand. 'You wear gloves … Oh, forget it. Look, do you know what Operation Torch is?'

'Oh, that. It's an operation to bust a weapons-dealing ring that we've known about for a while. We've had a manpower shortage, unfortunately.'

'Can you send me the coordinates?'

'Why are you asking me this?'

Shadow smirked. 'No particular reason. '

'Ok, whatever. Can you pick up takeout for us on the way back?'

'… Fine.'

'Thanks, babe. Love you –'

Shadow hung up and blasted through the intersection. A set of GPS coordinates flashed on his instrument panel, and he tore through the streets of Central City, with the wind in his fur and the setting sun at his back.

To be continued...

A/N: No art for this chapter – I suck at drawing vehicles and old men, so it wasn't in the cards this time. Maybe I'll have a go at it when I have more time to spare. Thanks for reading!