SHADOW'S LOYALTY

Ah, okay, so... it's been a while, huh?

a lot of stuff happened. And by stuff, I mean emotional breakdowns, laptop breakdowns and general just... stuff.

While I can apologise for the wait, as I've said before, I'd rather write when it flows than write crap.

Anyway, here it is! The long-awaited sequel (and by God did I get a lot of PMs...) to Amy's Dilemma.

No slutty scenes, yet, though guys. Just a Shadow monologue.

But they're coming. Don't fret.

Enjoy.

MILD PLOT SPOILERS FOR SONIC FORCES. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.

Reminiscent Ride

Shadow sits back in Jasmine's saddle, the engine purring gently beneath him as he waits for the lights to change. Fitted clothing feels entirely foreign against his fur, and its distracting; he fidgets occasionally as he waits, often adjusting the material of his pants over his knees or tugging at the collar of his polo to relieve a sense of suffocation, yet it does little to help. Eventually, he surrenders to it with a sigh before resting an elbow on the maroon tank before him and staring the traffic lights down, willing them to revert to green as his knee bobs mindlessly in discomfort.

Peak time had hit Station Square and much of the working population had been released to leisure time. Everyone was rushing home to spend time with their families or simply just enjoy some respite before they had to return to work the following day. As such, each intersection he needed to pass to reach the highway was jammed with vehicles of every kind, causing delays to his otherwise dull (if usually swift) commute through the city.

His mood was not improved by the subtle tilting of nearby CCTV cameras in his direction. He rolls his shoulders and a hand begins to drum against his thigh, jaw tight as he watches other motorcyclists meander through traffic to position themselves at the front of their own vehicular blockades. The hedgehog would love to do the same, but he knows better from experience; he's closely observed, and he doesn't wish to risk his comfy 'retirement' being withdrawn because of simple impatience on his part.

While he was usually left to his own devices, shadowed by chaperones and hijacked local security systems, he'd discovered quickly that they were not averse to nit-picking his behaviour in public. His assumption was that they found him intimidating – which of course he understood, given not only his abilities but the general demeanour and attitude he'd cultivated whilst in GUN's employ – and being able to effectively one-up him by giving out tickets and jeopardising his current lifestyle made them feel less insignificant in comparison.

So instead he watches with envy as these motorcyclists – Humans and Mobian alike – do as such, gunning their throttles and careening past as soon as their own traffic signals change.

If only, he thinks as he glances over his shoulder to observe the truck that had been following him since leaving the apartment complex. While it was never the same vehicle from one day to another, they were always similar; larger four-wheel drive vehicles with raised chassis that require an industrial-looking step to access the interior which is only a cabin, large enough for perhaps three seats alongside one another in a bench, though he can only speculate given the windshields are always tinted. Behind this cabin lies a flatbed, its contents obscured by a tarp. He assumes beneath it lies artillery should they deem force to control him necessary, and perhaps a spare tire or two.

Keeping his expression neutral, the hedgehog fixes his gaze where he expects the driver to be and maintains it, unblinking. After a few seconds he lazily raises two fingers to his forehead and offers a mock-salute, one they'll likely take as insult, yet will have no reason to intercept him to enact any retribution for their damaged pride. After holding the gaze longer than necessary just to be sure he made someone uncomfortable, possibly angry, he turns forwards once more and rests his hands in his lap to observe the intersection before him with an audible sigh.

His discomfort had still not abated, and it was becoming obvious it was not related to his clothing, nor the presence of his usual babysitters. He rests his hands on his knees and stares blankly ahead, letting his mind wander as it attempts to decipher the cause, but in honesty he's purposely avoiding what he believes to be the origin.

Amy Rose.

A week ago, he would have scoffed at the notion of allowing the hedgehog to stay in his apartment, let alone becoming intimately involved with her in any way. Following their first interaction on Prison Island, he had viewed her as an obsessive, self-absorbed and quite childish individual. Indeed, the depth of her character seemed not to delve any further than her obsession for his cerulean counterpart, her entire identity revolving around being something she believed Sonic found attractive.

Little had changed with later interactions, though he had noticed her compassion had become more universal over the years. Still she adorned the ruby dress – a match to Sonic's sneakers, he'd acknowledged once with a snort, and she'd gone a similar shade of red in her cheeks and not commented on his observation – and followed the hero around like a puppy, getting herself stuck in traps more often than actually assisting with any missions, leading to rescues that made Shadow wonder if she did as such simply for the added attention.

Perhaps the only true expressions of the woman below her unadulterated adoration had been exhibited during the Forces Saga. Knuckles had taken the helm of the resistance in Sonic's stead, recruiting new members, planning their attacks and sabotage missions basically alone and while Shadow held the echidna in high esteem for that, it was Amy who stepped up to the mark and got out into the field with those rookies, guiding them through training with Wispens and keeping their spirits high.

For the majority of said saga, Shadow had found himself indisposed by Infinite; while he wasn't captured as his doppelganger would be, the newly juiced-up Jackal had sought him out to practice his new skills before going after Eggman's prize of choice. Unlike their previous scuffles, he'd found himself entirely outmatched, the new abilities afforded to the former mercenary by the Phantom Ruby embedded in his chest were unprecedented.

Unprepared for those skills, he'd been encapsulated by its reality-bending powers and been left for dead in the vast Mobian Desert as he was tortured by his past.

He'd fought free of the illusions to find himself weakened beyond anything he'd previously experienced. By Chaos' mercy the jackal had been foolish enough not to take his Chaos Emerald, and it was this that likely prevented his demise; if he had been a normal Mobian, he would have perished from dehydration, starvation, exposure… instead, he'd felt like death walking, entirely functioning on fresh Chaos energy as he'd dragged himself to his feet and stumbled back to civilisation.

Only what he knew to be civilisation had collapsed, and he did not understand how so much had occurred while he fought for freedom from Infinite's skewed realities.

Entire cities had been laid to waste, the shells of what remained ghost-towns of carnage, rubble and trash. Thankfully the city he found still contained supplies abandoned in the aftermath of whatever had happened and while fresh produce had long-since deteriorated, he'd found tinned food and bottled water in abandoned stores. He'd camped in one for four days to recuperate. Occasionally he would hear scuffles outside, and to his shame he'd hidden from them, unwilling to test the limits of his body any further while he recovered.

After feeling back to his old self, it was another three days before he encountered a living being. Though he would never admit it to the hedgehog himself, it was to great relief he noted the familiar blur of blue racing through the streets closer to the outskirts of town. He'd tailed him, planning to instigate a conversation once the other inevitably stopped to investigate something or other in this wasteland, only to find himself entirely enraged when a doppelganger of himself instead decided to begin a fight.

Unable to contain his fury, he'd intercepted the faker before it could strike Sonic, and straightened in bemusement as this other him simply… dissolved before his eyes, the form becoming nothing more than vague pink bricks as they dissolved into thin air. He'd disregarded the cerulean's friendly greeting with a grunt of acknowledgement but allowed him to drag him back to Headquarters while they spoke of everything; of Infinite and Eggman's world domination, Sonic's extended incarceration, and the state of Mobius.

He'd found it incomprehensible that almost six months had passed since their last interaction, though it was no wonder he'd been so feeble upon awakening…

A horn blares and jolts Shadow out of his reminiscent state. The rows of traffic beside him are already in motion, the light ahead of him green. Residual anger from his memories seeps into the present and, while he is able to ignore the racist shouts of the humans in vehicles behind him, he twists the throttle with more force than necessary and lurches across the thankfully clear intersection. The lights had just begun to change again, allowing him to leave both his chaperones and those imbued with road rage behind as he heads for the next queue of traffic along his route.

Aware of his disconnection from reality moments before, he forces himself to focus for the next twenty minutes as he navigates the busy city streets. The GUN vehicle on his tail catches up again without difficulty, and he's unwilling to have a repeat performance of disassociation in front of them in case they should start pressing to have Jasmine taken from him for 'public safety' or some other bullshit. So, he reads licence plates, counts how many seconds it takes for a traffic light to change and hums some awfully catchy song that drifts from another's window to keep him in the moment.

Finally, desert stretches on all sides, and the road widens to three lanes. He opens Jasmine's engine up without hesitation, speeding off down the wide and predominantly empty highway for the last leg of his commute.

Highway 57 linked Station Square to New Metropolis over two hundred miles away, skimming past the outskirts of several Mobian villages and through some Human towns along the way. It had become the life blood of many a rural settlement since its construction at the end of Eggman's reign of terror, feeding trade and funnelling money into otherwise backwater villages much like Knothole back in the south.

There's another fifteen minutes of riding to do before he can divert off to Area 99, GUN's most strongly guarded barracks and home to most of its troops and an operational training ground. With this stretch of straight boredom ahead of him, Shadow finally allowed his mind to wander once more.

Given he'd just fought some form of clone of himself - alongside the strained relationships he had with most of Sonic's entourage - Shadow wasn't expecting a warm welcome when he stepped inside the resistance bunker, but he hadn't really anticipated being decked in the jaw by an angry echidna either. Without time to block the strike, Knuckles' namesakes had gashed through the skin of his muzzle, then the force of the punch sent him over the central table and into the opposite wall before he dropped to the floor like a sack of potatoes.

He'd been greeted with a plethora of surprised faces when his eyes opened. Tails had obviously dropped down to a crouch to avoid taking a hedgehog to the face, while Amy stood off to one side with a terrified-looking unfamiliar individual, though to their credit they'd had a weapon of some sort levelled in his direction. Across the room, Knuckles had blinked stupidly at the bloodied, non-disappearing Shadow he'd just knocked into a wall, and Sonic had cleared his throat and started telling everyone in the room he'd stumbled across the real Shadow while out helping in their most recent mission.

Shadow recalled drawing himself back to his full height and glaring at the echidna, who glared right back, both with their arms folded across their chests defensively as Sonic trailed off, a heavy silence filling the room.

But it hadn't been Sonic that broke the tension, it had been Amy. Despite what he believed she thought of him, he'd stepped forwards and hugged him, a tight embrace he hadn't experienced since his last few hours with Maria. He'd remained as stiff as a board, catching Sonic's eye over her shoulder, though the youngster simply shrugged nonchalantly and returned to talking with Knuckles as if everything was normal, and soon the general bustle of the room resumed around them while he stood them.

She'd stepped away and given him a weak smile, seemingly unperturbed by his lack of reciprocation. "Its good to have you back," she said, and then she was gone too, diverting the Wispen-wielding newbie elsewhere as they went over their strategy for their next attack. He'd watched her head over to the table and go over details quietly, entirely confused. They had never held a real conversation, nor spent any time together that was not strictly necessary. Given their patchy history and his known acquaintance with the wrong side, he'd assumed they'd all have preferred he hadn't turned back up, even if his intentions were noble.

Instead she'd hugged him like an old friend, and now he wondered if there had been something more there, in that simple gesture, but it didn't coincide well with the initial reaction she'd had to becoming intimate with him; her expression and actions had been one of regret as she'd darted for the shower. Then again, she had emerged entirely different again, seeming to care about what he thought as well as her own sentiments…

He shook his head to dispel the thoughts for now. It wouldn't assist anyone for him to be hung up on personal matters while in conference with the commander, even if the topic of discussion did indeed end up being his private life. No, he needed to be objective and focused, to figure out what precisely Towers was upset about and work around it, before the old human fucked up perhaps one of the better things that had occurred in his life to date.

Shadow leaves the highway for the disused dirt track that led to Area 99 and slows to reduce the amount of grit he'll have to clean from her paintwork and chrome plating later, aware of the truck slowing to his pace behind him. Anger and agitation bubble at the edge of his consciousness, and he forces himself to take a deep breath, reminding himself to remain as amicable as possible in the coming hours. As suffocating as GUN could be, he wasn't going to get out from under their boot by kicking up a fuss - this he already knew - therefore he had to be agreeable, rational, and open to suggestions whilst still retaining what little freedoms he possessed until he could wriggle free and escape their oppressing control.

Do it for Amy, he reminded himself as he pulled into the compound, the fifty foot high chain link gate topped with razor wire open in anticipation of his arrival.

For Amy.