Content Warning: 'HE HAS A GUN.'

As Shadow navigated through the winding streets of Central City, 2000s-era rock music blasted from his earpiece. He turned right onto a steep downhill road laced with tramlines, revealing the searing blue sky above and the cityscape below.

Suddenly, he heard a crash behind him. His head snapped around and he looked back, but the sun shone in his eyes and dazzled him. 'Hey, faker!' A second later, he heard the scrape of plastic on bitumen as Sonic shot past, riding on a skateboard.

'Sonic?' In spite of himself, a faint smile flashed across Shadow's face. 'What the hell are you doing here?'

'Just taking a trip down memory lane!' Despite the fact that Shadow was riding his motorbike, Sonic effortlessly kept pace with him as they dodged the cars and trams scattered across the road.

'How can you be so carefree? It's disgusting.'

'I mean, it's kind of my entire brand at this point –'

Shadow swerved, forcing Sonic to the edge of the road. 'No, you idiot. Anything you can do, I can do better. So how can you be so cheerful when I can't even …' Shadow gritted his teeth. 'Is that positivity of yours even real? Or is it also fake, just like you?'

Sonic kicked off the curb and veered back towards him, spraying the side of Shadow's bike with sparks. 'You're one to talk. Anything I can do, you can do too – so what's stopping you from learning how to love life and cheer up a bit?'

Shadow tightened his grip on his handlebars, resisting the urge to ram Sonic and send him flying into the nearest building. 'Watch the paint job. And what's with that damn skateboard?'

Sonic held up one hand, pointing at the sky. 'I didn't get arrested by GUN this time, so I had to improvise.'

'… I'm not even going to ask.'

They shot past a tram, and the clanging of the tram bell echoed behind them. 'Speaking of GUN,' Sonic said, 'I ran across GUN's headquarters and got red paint all over my shoes. Did something happen?'

Shadow saw the traffic lights ahead of them turn red and stomped on the back of Sonic's skateboard with one foot, bringing them both to an abrupt halt. 'Did you not see or read a single billboard that you ran past today?'

'Jeez, Shadow, we could have made it through that …' Sonic trailed off and stared at the digital billboard on the bus stop shelter beside them. He leaned on Shadow's handlebars with one arm, and his eyes flickered.

'That's what's stopping me.' News coverage of yesterday's events – the terror attack, its aftermath and Maria's vandalised portrait – cycled through on the screen. 'Unlike you, I have a past that I can't forget and can't ignore, so don't you dare ask me what's stopping me from "cheering up" ever again'.

Sonic moved forward, blocking the billboard from Shadow's view. 'I'm not the one with memory problems. I didn't forget about your past when I asked what's stopping you, Shadow, but I thought you had already left your past behind.'

A car horn beeped behind them, and they whirled around. The driver leaned out of their window. 'Come on, that light isn't getting any greener! And aren't you the fastest thing alive or something like that?'

'I am, but –' Sonic and Shadow broke off and glared at each other, then with the snarl of an engine and the rattle of skateboard wheels, they took off and swerved around the corner.

'I did leave my past behind,' Shadow said. The wind blew through his fur as he spoke, and he dug his heels into the motorcycle pegs. 'But it keeps coming back no matter what I do. You can just keep running forward, but every time I take one step forward, I also take two steps back.'

'Are you sure there's nothing stopping you?' Sonic reached out with one hand, casting a shadow over the medals on Shadow's uniform jacket. 'Why don't you just … escape from the city?'

'If you reference another rock song from the 2000s, I'm going to hit you with my bike.'

'I guess it's better than getting hit by a truck,' Sonic said. 'And you started it, in case you didn't realise. "One step forward, two steps back" –'

'That was an expression before it was a song, damn it!'

Sonic laughed and jumped onto a nearby handrail, grinding down it in a blaze of sparks and scraping metal. 'Sure, sure.'

Shadow looked out over the roads unfolding below them. In theory, he could keep riding until he reached the ocean, leaving Central City behind. And with his abilities, he could keep running until he reached the other side of the world, leaving GUN and its problems behind forever. But GUN's problems were also his problems and vice versa … and if he allowed himself to continue running away from his problems, there would eventually be no corner of the earth left for him to run to.

'I still have unfinished business here.'

'Like what?'

Shadow slammed on his brakes and afforded himself a smirk as Sonic's momentum sent him flying down the next hill. Sonic reappeared beside him in an instant, holding his skateboard under one arm. 'Damn it, Shadow, I nearly crashed into a tram just then.'

Shadow manoeuvred his bike onto the sidewalk and stowed the key in his pocket. 'You didn't care about collateral damage back then, and I highly doubt that you do now.'

Sonic rolled his eyes and looked up at the abandoned warehouse that they had stopped outside. 'What are we doing here?'

Shadow got off his bike and looked up at the warehouse as well. The searing blue sky was now stained pink and purple, thanks to the setting sun. 'I'm here to break up an arms-dealing ring. As for what you're doing here, I have no idea. '

'Wait, are you serious?'

Shadow scoffed. 'I know – 393 million guns in the United Federation, and somehow there's still a thriving illegal arms trade.'

'No, I mean … Why are you making this your problem?'

Shadow gave Sonic a bewildered look and jerked a thumb towards the GUN logo on his armband. 'The Black Arms only attack once every 50 years, and you rarely give me the chance to have a go at Dr Eggman before you drive him back into hiding. I have to take other cases in the meantime. This isn't my "problem" – this is my job.'

'Buddy, they invented something in the 70s while you were out of commission – it's called "work-life balance".'

'If I don't have a life, then there's nothing to balance,' Shadow retorted. 'And it's not your concern.'

'Fine, fine. But still ... arms dealers? I thought you liked guns.'

'I do. But these guns are being trafficked illegally. What I dislike is when people think they can just do what they please.'

'Fair enough. I just thought you'd be going after terrorists or something.' He gestured at a nearby billboard, one that was also running news footage from yesterday. '… Especially given what just happened.'

'GUN's intelligence network is currently investigating that.'

'Intelligence? What intelligence?'

Shadow laughed sharply. 'I couldn't begin to tell you. I also have other things to attend to first.'

Sonic looked sceptical. 'If you say so.' He cast a look at the warehouse and grinned. 'So what's the plan?'

'The plan is that you run off – preferably over the edge of the nearest cliff – while I go in and do my job.'

'Don't you want to team up? For old time's sake?'

Shadow turned away and pressed a hand to his earpiece. 'I need someone to send the nearest M915 to my 20 … 10-63.' Then he turned back to Sonic and said, 'I want you to stay out of it. I need to blow off steam, and you'd just get in my way.' He flipped open the top box on the back of his bike, taking out a Heckler & Koch USP9 with a custom compensator and a leg holster.

Sonic put one hand on his hip and leaned forward, raising an eyebrow as he watched Shadow strap the holster on. 'For someone who insists that they've left their past behind them, you sure could have left that handgun back in 2005.'

Shadow gave him a dry grin. 'I hope you get hit by an 18-wheeler truck.'

'… That was weirdly specific.'

A horrendous crash rang out behind them, and Sonic pivoted to see one of GUN's military trucks plough through a row of parked cars, heading straight for him.

'You've got to be kidding me –' Sonic threw down his skateboard, leapt on and took off like a rocket. 'Shadow, what the hell is your problem?!'

Shadow gave the truck's driver a casual two-fingered salute as the vehicle roared past, and he called after Sonic, saying, 'I thought you said you wanted to take a trip down memory lane?'

'Forget taking a trip down memory lane –' Sonic yelped as mechanical arms and rotating saw blades sprang from the truck's undercarriage, '– I'm going to be taking a trip to the hospital if this keeps up!'

Shadow rolled his eyes and turned to face the warehouse as the sounds of tearing metal and breaking glass rose from the streets below him. He touched his earpiece again. 'Keep him out of my way for a bit, would you? And if anyone asks, just say that a civilian sent in an inaccurate tipoff about a potential sighting of Metal Sonic.'

'Yes, sir!'

Shadow looked up, narrowing his eyes as he focused on the warehouse's roof. With a snap, he reappeared above the building and dimmed his thrusters to lower himself, landing on the corrugated iron without a sound. He knelt and leaned over one of the skylights, making sure he didn't cast a shadow through the glass and onto the warehouse floor below.

It wasn't anything noteworthy. Weapons crates. Boxes of ammunition. Men scattered among the rows of industrial shelving. If it weren't for the intel that GUN had gathered, you could be forgiven for assuming it was the distribution warehouse of a legitimate gun dealership.

Shadow exhaled, bracing one hand against the glass. Then he snapped inside the warehouse, landing one of the numerous metal beams supporting the warehouse's roof. He sat down, crossing one leg over the other. His ears swivelled as he listened in to a conversation between two men on the other end of the warehouse.

'DiMarco?'

'What was that?'

'Sorry – Boss? When do we ship these out?'

'Tonight, if we can.' Shadow glanced left and right, counting the number of heads. There couldn't be more than 15 people in the warehouse. 'And even if GUN has gotten wind of what we're up to, they've got bigger problems right now.'

'Right … What happened over there? Didn't some kid get shot?'

One of them scoffed. 'You're about fifty years off the mark. No, some lunatic was advocating for child murder on GUN's doorstep or something – I don't know. Grab the other end of this, would you?'

Shadow rolled his shoulders. His muscles were coiled tighter than steel springs. His gaze landed on a weapon crate sitting in the open beside the two men. Between the covered windows and the grime coating the skylights, the warehouse was dark, and visibility was low.

'Besides … Despite the shitshow happening over there, if GUN was going to come after us – '

Shadow held up the Chaos Emerald, staring at the man framed in its facets. Still holding the Emerald, he raised his thumb, extending his index finger and middle finger as though he was aiming a gun.

'Chaos Control.'

He lunged from the steel beam and crossed the rows of industrial shelving with broad, rocket-powered strides before leaping to the ground and landing beside the weapons crate. He sat on it, resting his folded arms on his knees, and time resumed.

'– then they would have come after us already, right?'

The two men he'd been listening to – DiMarco and one of his subordinates – were carrying another weapons crate. DiMarco blinked several times and seemed disconcerted. Maybe it was the glint of gold in the corner of his vision, or maybe it was the angled shadows cast over the ground. He looked up and to the left, in Shadow's direction.

'You shouldn't have been worried about when GUN was going to come after you,' Shadow said. 'You should have been worried about who they were going to send.'

The two men froze. Then they dropped the crate and sprang back, drawing their weapons. 'What the hell?!'

Shadow raised one eyebrow. 'Pistols? Really? You're arms dealers, and that's all you're carrying?'

He heard shouts and running footsteps. Shadow held a hand to his earpiece, speaking under his breath. 'Requesting a 10-16 at my 20.'

'Copy that. Have you already completed the objective?'

'I will have by the time you get here.'

'Request acknowledged.'

One by one, the other men rushed over, and Shadow weighed them up with a glance. While the men themselves didn't look dissimilar, they were armed with a mix of pistols, assault rifles and machine guns.

'Boss, everything's still locked, and none of the skylights are broken.'

DiMarco stepped forward, aiming his pistol at Shadow with one hand. 'Who are you? And how did you get in here?'

Shadow had guessed as much – the visibility was so low that they couldn't see him clearly. 'How did I get in here? Is that really your main concern right now?'

The DiMarco's gaze darted across Shadow's uniform, snagging on the armband. The crisp white logo was the only thing that was clearly visible in the low light. He let out a shocked laugh. 'You weren't lying. GUN really did send one of their dogs after us.' And he immediately pulled the trigger.

Shadow swiftly tipped his head to the side, and as soon as he heard the bullet hit the corrugated steel behind him, he stopped time, drew his gun and shot the man who was furthest away in the knee. Then he swiftly holstered the gun and let time resume.

The man screamed and fell, writhing on the ground. His rifle clattered onto the concrete, and panicked shouts rose to the roof.

DiMarco spared a brief glance behind him, but his aim didn't waver. 'You little shit – what did you do?'

'I didn't do anything.' Shadow said, and his holstered gun gleamed beneath the faint light seeping through the skylight above them. 'Bullets can ricochet, you know. Accidents happen. It's a shame.'

DiMarco's gaze tightened. The fact that Shadow was seated was forcing him to aim at a sharp, downward angle. It meant that he couldn't see the traces of the bullet impact on the concrete behind the weapons crate Shadow was sitting on. It meant that he couldn't tell whether Shadow was lying.

'Yeah. I know. It's a real shame.' DiMarco raised his free hand, and a cacophony of gunfire ricocheted off the walls of the warehouse.

Shadow stopped time, got to his feet, and walked out of the way of the suspended spray of projectiles. Then he unholstered his pistol and walked along the row of men behind DiMarco, firing one bullet for each of them. Then time unfroze. The men fell, screaming and clutching their ankles and knees as blood pooled beneath them and their dropped weapons. DiMarco whirled around, but Shadow had already snapped out of existence and reappeared, sitting on the weapons crate as though he had never moved.

DiMarco slowly turned to face him, and his face was ashen. 'What … What the hell did you do?' he whispered.

'Didn't you hear me? I didn't do anything. Bullets can ricochet –'

'Shut up!' DiMarco raised his pistol and fired in rapid succession, but his aim was shaky, and his shots went wild. Shadow barely had to tilt his head in order to dodge. The pistol was a Glock G19, and based on the magazine size, he would fire either 15 or 17 rounds. The 17th bullet shot past Shadow's ear, and he rolled his eyes at the predictability. Then he heard his favourite sound – the faint click of someone trying to fire a gun with an empty magazine.

DiMarco threw his gun aside and reached for another, but Shadow reappeared behind him, slamming the toe of his boot into the back of his knee. The sound of splintering bones crackled in the silence, and DiMarco fell with a sharp howl, bracing his hands against the blood-soaked concrete.

Shadow stood over him, holding his gun to the back of DiMarco's neck. While the man was careless, the panicked rasp of his breathing told Shadow that he also wasn't stupid. Getting shot in the back of the neck was not only fatal, but it was also a horrific fate. It paralysed you, forcing you to lie helplessly as you choked to death on your own blood.

'What are you waiting for?' DiMarco said, and his voice shook. 'Do it!'

Shadow sighed. 'Sure.' Then he lowered his gun and shot the man in the ankle instead.

Dimarco collapsed and bit his hand to muffle a scream.

Shadow walked around and squatted in front of him. The pool of blood beneath the two of them reflected the flames beneath his shoes. The scent of fuel and fire mingled with the stench of blood and gunsmoke.

'You really thought I was going kill you?' Shadow put the muzzle of the gun beneath DiMarco's jaw, forcing the man to look at him. 'I'm not going to let you off that easily.'

DiMarco stared down the length of the gun – clearly seeing Shadow's face for the first time. He choked. Despite the sheer impossibility that every single one of his men had been taken out by ricocheting bullets, DiMarco still couldn't know for certain how many bullets Shadow had left. Were there 14? Or were there none? And even if there were none … Did it even matter now that he knew who he was actually facing?

Faint groans and murmurs rose from around them, and sweat dripped down DiMarco's face. He glanced to one side, seeing the blood seeping from his men's knees and ankles. '… Why didn't you kill them? Isn't that why you're with GUN? So that you can do whatever you want as long as you're on their leash?!'

'The thing is …' Shadow stood to his feet and picked up one of the dropped machine guns, admiring it. 'I don't want to kill you.' It was an M60, adopted by the United Federation military a few years after he had been put into stasis. 'I don't want to kill any of you.' The stock was made of solid wood. 'I want to make you suffer.'

And with a swift blow, he smashed the stock against the head of the man lying closest to him, and then he picked his way through the bodies, knocking the men out one by one. 'And the best way to make someone suffer is to imprison them for … I don't know ….' Shadow gave DiMarco an ice-cold glare. '… Fifty years, give or take.'

'I-I'm not going away for 50 years. I'll get 10 for gun trafficking, at most.'

'Sure. But what about everything else?' Shadow murmured. 'If you've committed other crimes, then those sentences will start adding up.'

'Why would I admit to anything else?!'

Shadow raised the stock of the gun above DiMarco's head. 'Because the longer your total sentence is, the more likely it is that you'll die in prison without ever having to see me again. But the more you refuse to cooperate with GUN's interrogators, the more likely it is that I'll have to pay you another visit.' Shadow lowered his voice and held out one gloved hand towards the bodies lying all around them. 'And even if you don't talk … they will.'

DiMarco's eyes widened, and Shadow slammed the gun stock down on his head. Then he put the gun over his shoulder and skated off, phasing through the padlocked door.

Two of GUN's prisoner transport vehicles pulled up outside the warehouse the moment that Shadow reappeared outside the warehouse. He broke the padlock off the door and tossed it aside. Then he descended the steps and gave the soldiers a nod as they rushed past him. 'They've all been incapacitated. You're good to go.'

'And let me guess,' a female soldier said as she passed him. 'If we're taking inventory, the count on the machine guns is going to be off by one.'

Shadow bolted the M60 to the side of his bike using metal cargo clips and vaulted onto the bike's seat. 'You've clearly been around the block a few times.'

He tore off before she could respond, weaving his way back through the streets of Central City as dusk fell around him. His shoulders felt looser, and his lungs felt like they could hold air again. But as he took the hairpin turns of Lombard Street, he suddenly remembered that Rouge had asked him to get takeout on the way back. He groaned and took an abrupt detour, blazing down Jones Street and taking a hard left into Central City's Chinatown.

Rouge could just order the food herself, but she always asked him to pick it up instead … and despite himself, he never said no. He followed the main road until he veered into a narrow alleyway, halting his bike outside a hole-in-the-wall restaurant lit by the warm glow of red paper lanterns.

The old woman who ran the establishment stared at him in disbelief, then a smile broke out across her face. 'Cìwèi Xiānshēng! Where have you been, a? Or is it "classified"?'

Shadow half smiled and rested his elbow on the handlebars of his bike. 'It's classified, lǎo nǎinai. Can I get …' He trailed off, and his mind went blank.

She clicked her tongue and reached through the window, forcing a cup of jasmine tea into his hands. He reluctantly accepted it and began to drink. 'Your memory is still bad, o?' she asked.

'It's getting better –'

'Don't worry – we know all of Biānfú Xiǎojiě's favourites by now.' She leaned back to the kitchen and rattled off an order before turning back to him. 'How is she doing? Are you still living together?' she asked disapprovingly. 'When are you going to propose?'

Shadow nearly choked, and he abruptly set the teacup back on the counter. 'She's … doing well.' He passed her a wad of cash, and she riffed through the notes before passing most of it back to him.

'Good, good.' She took a stack of plastic containers from one of the kitchen staff and dropped them into a plastic bag, swiftly tying the handles into a knot. She passed the bag to him through the window. 'Look at all those medals! Mái tóu kǔ gàn.'

Shadow turned around and flipped open the top box, pushing aside a spare pistol and magazines to fit the bag inside. 'Lǎo nǎinai, I don't know what that means.'

'"Head down, working hard."'

He looked at her in surprise, then glanced at the medals with regret. 'I guess so.'

He dropped his spare change in the tip jar and swiftly withdrew his hand as she tried to rap his knuckles with a ladle. 'Tíng xiàlái! I've told you not to. And Biānfú Xiǎojiě tells me you don't eat enough – look after yourself.'

'… I'll try.'

Shadow raised a hand in farewell and took off, following the streets of Central City from Chinatown to GUN's headquarters as the stars appeared in the night sky. He drove into the headquarters via a side entrance and took the ramps down to the bottom level, pulling in beside Abraham's car, before grabbing the bag out of the top box. Then he looked up and snapped out of existence, reappearing outside the door of Team Dark's flat.

He raised one hand and knocked on the door. Though he didn't want to admit it, he knew why he would pick up Rouge's takeout if she asked. He knew why he would drink jasmine tea even though it wasn't his first choice. He knew why he would wait for someone to welcome him home instead of letting himself in. And he knew why he would still eat even though he didn't have to.

Rouge opened the door, resting one hand on the door and giving him a smile. Her freshly manicured nails glittered against the doorframe. 'Welcome back, sweetheart.'

He knew that he often said that he went along with things because it suited his purposes to do so. But sometimes, he went along with things because it made life just that little bit … better.

Shadow rolled his eyes and pushed past her, dropping the bag into her open hands. 'The old woman wants to know when we're getting married, Biānfú Xiǎojiě.'

'If you got me sweet-and-sour chicken, I'll marry you on the spot.'

He scoffed and shrugged off his uniform jacket as she closed the door behind him. 'I got you your usual. Make of that what you will.'

Rouge laughed and grabbed his arm, dragging him into the kitchen. 'It's your last night here for a while. Omega says he wants to watch Purple again. Come on, join us.'

'… Sure. I'll try.'

To be continued ...

A/N: I think I just need to embrace writing longer chapters ... because they seem to flow better overall. It also lets me actually showcase the 'tonal range' that makes Team Dark shine, instead of breaking these scenes up across multiple chapters. 👌

Creator Shoutout: Some of Sonic and Shadow's interactions in this chapter were inspired by lyrics from Thai McGrath Anime Music's fan song 'FAKER ft. FOXCHASE'! Check it out on YouTube!