The lights of New York City gleamed like scattered Chaos Emeralds, their brilliance reflecting off the wet pavement. Shadow stood on the edge of a rooftop, arms crossed, his crimson eyes scanning the bustling streets below. He’d been here for months now, adapting—if one could call it that—to life among Sonic, Tails, Knuckles, and the chaotic world they insisted on calling home. The city was loud, unpredictable, and utterly exhausting, but it was better than the silence of the ARK or the chaos of Robotnik’s schemes.

Shadow found himself drawn to the city's restless energy. The honking horns, the chatter of strangers, the occasional shout of street vendors—New York was alive in ways he never imagined. Still, the hustle didn’t quiet the storm in his mind. The faces of Maria and Gerald still haunted his thoughts, their voices sometimes drowned out by Sonic’s relentless optimism or Knuckles’ gruff advice about "finding a purpose in the fight."

Sonic had insisted on showing Shadow the city, calling it “a playground of opportunity.” At first, Shadow dismissed the idea as another of Sonic’s frivolous pastimes. But he couldn't deny the faint sense of wonder he felt walking the streets, blending in—more or less—with humans. A small part of him even appreciated the odd moments of connection, like when a kid mistook him for a costumed superhero and handed him a drawing. He didn’t smile, of course, but he kept the picture.

Shadow adjusted to the group dynamic in his own way. He still preferred solitude, often disappearing to the rooftops to watch the skyline. Tails tried to draw him into conversations about tech and Chaos energy. Knuckles offered sparring matches that sometimes left nearby parks in ruins. And Sonic, as always, tried to push Shadow’s limits—physically and socially—forcing him to confront the world he’d never fully known.

Tonight, though, Shadow wanted quiet. The hum of the city below gave him space to think.