Shadow’s boots clicked against the pavement, each step steady and deliberate as he moved through the quiet city streets. The night air was warm, heavy with that lingering summer humidity that clung to the skin. It was late—well past midnight—and most of the city was asleep, save for the few stragglers wandering home from bars or lingering on corners with tired laughter.

His crimson eyes swept across every shadow, every alley, every figure that dared cross his path. Patrol wasn’t glamorous, but it was necessary. The city had a way of hiding its ugliness in places most didn’t want to look.

As he turned down one of the narrower streets, the sound changed. It was quieter here, except for the muffled coughs, rustling paper, and low murmurs drifting from a particular alley up ahead.

The homeless strip.

He slowed his pace, not out of fear, but because this place always gave him pause. A collection of forgotten souls gathered there—mobians of all kinds. Some curled beneath patched blankets, some slumped against brick walls, others just… staring off into nothing. Shadow had walked past them countless times, and every time he felt the same twist of something unspoken in his chest. Pity? Anger? Maybe both.

The world moves on without them. Just keeps spinning, while they’re stuck here, rotting in the margins.

He kept moving, forcing his gaze forward, until something caught the corner of his vision. Just a flicker, a shape hunched smaller than the rest. He turned his head slightly, his eyes narrowing. There, nestled against the far wall of the alley, was a young mobian hedgehog.

Shadow stopped walking.

…A kid? What the hell is someone that young doing here?

The streetlight barely reached that far, but it was enough for Shadow to catch the messy quills, the way the hedgehog’s shoulders curled inward as though trying to disappear. Something about the sight pulled at him, rooting him to the spot.