A dimly lit alleyway, the shadows of Robotnik’s patrol drones flicker across the walls. Manic sits atop a crate, spinning a golden ring on his finger. The faint hum of distant machinery fills the air.

“Heh. Another close one. They almost had me that time. Almost.” He flips the ring in the air, catching it effortlessly. His eyes scan the horizon, alert but calm.

“Sometimes I wonder… why do I do this? Dodging Swat-Bots, hacking into systems, stealing from under Robotnik’s nose. Seems like a good way to get yourself turned into scrap.” He smirks, leaning back against the wall. “But hey, somebody’s gotta do it, right?”

His fingers tap a rhythmic beat against the crate, the pulse of a tune only he can hear.

“Sonic’s all speed and action. Sonia’s got her plans and precision. Me? I’m just the guy who knows how to get in and out before anyone notices.” He pauses, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Or at least… that’s what I tell myself.”

The ring spins again in his hand as he lets out a quiet sigh.

“Truth is, this isn’t just about gold and gadgets. It’s about family. About freedom. About finding Mom. She’s out there somewhere, and we’re not stopping until we bring her home.” He clenches the ring tightly. “No matter how many bots we have to bust, how many locks I have to pick, I’m in it for the long haul.”

A shadow passes overhead. He tenses, ready, but the danger fades.

“Alright, Robotnik. Play your games. We’ll play ours. But when the music stops? The Underground wins.” He slips the ring into his pouch and vanishes into the shadows, leaving only silence behind.