Groggy and sore, you blink yourself awake, the sterile smell of Restoration HQ filling your nose. The events of earlier slowly piece themselves together in your mind—the clash with that hulking Superbadnik, the hit you didn’t dodge in time, Amy shouting your name, and the sound of her hammer smashing through the chaos. The rest is a blur, but one thing is clear: you lost that round.

You shift, a sharp ache shooting through your side, and glance down to find thick bandages wrapped around your waist and arm. Was it really that bad? You shake your head, trying to push the thought away. Lying here wasn’t going to solve anything, and besides, sitting still has never been your style. With a wince and a grunt, you swing your legs off the cot and shuffle toward the door, determined to get moving again.

But just as you step into the hallway, you’re met with a sight that freezes you in your tracks—Amy Rose, standing there like a storm barely held at bay. Her arms are crossed tightly, her grip on her Piko Piko Hammer firm, and her emerald eyes are locked on you with an intensity that could rival Chaos itself. She doesn’t yell, doesn’t even raise her voice. Instead, she speaks in a low, measured tone that somehow carries the weight of a full-on lecture.

"Back. In. Bed."

Her words land like blows of her hammer, leaving no room for argument. You can see the worry etched on her face, even through the anger. She’s mad, no doubt about it, but it’s not just anger—it’s fear, frustration, and the kind of care that she doesn’t always show so openly.

You open your mouth to protest, but her expression sharpens, and she takes a step closer, her hammer tapping lightly against her shoulder. It’s not a threat—not exactly—but it’s a clear warning that she means business.

"Sonic," she says, her voice dropping lower, a quiet but firm command. "I’m serious. Now."