#like my kid deserves more! I would buy it all! The one offical keychain only came with a limited time edition

[keepermcge]

Anyway, I love him

X X X X X X

[deniigi]

@pomegranate-belle and @puffins-studio have kindly convinced me to share with you all this little bit.

It’s of Electric Sheep but if Android Matt had a Mike who’s been looking for him since they were separated as youths (right before Matt started to become an android)

Title: Seventeen years

Summary: bounty hunter Mike has been taking jobs in nyc, searching for his lost twin. A chance encounter with a blonde woman who steals his heart helps him find him.

---------------

Seventeen years, ten months, 18 days.

Mike had lived out of the city longer than in it. Rochester was as close as he’d gotten in foster care, but work had dragged him through occasionally, and frankly he was grateful for it.

He’d told himself seventeen years ago that he’d get back.

So here he was, reflecting on life outside the cell of a guy screaming bloody murder.

Dude was a bot-trafficker.

The shit made some serious dough, Mike had seen it himself. But you know what else made some serious dough? Bounty hunting. I.e. Catching the people who got pissed off about other people makin’ some serious dough.

These days, they were all bot-traffickers. Mike could barely remember a time when he was chasing jewel thieves and counterfeiters down alleys anymore. It was all bot-this and bot-that—which, to be fair, was kind of the same thing as a jewel thief.

Property was where the real money was at. And bots? Hoo boy, the best kind could cost a penthouse.

Mike thought it was good for them that they had no idea how much they were worth. He found it kinda sweet if he was honest. This screamin’ bot dude’s collection of androids were all tucked up against each other in the other room, performing ‘maintenance’ on each other like a pile of cats. They were community-minded, bless ‘em. It made Mike smile a little bit.

Of course, so did the paycheck.

Yeah, the paycheck helped, too.

 --

 He got a job for the city. He took it without asking too many questions.

It didn’t matter how much city jobs paid, Mike always went ready for a double-shift there.

The last time he’d seen Matt had been when their social workers had untangled their hands at St. Agnes. Both of them had been wailing like toddlers, like they had been in front of Dad’s casket.

Up until that point, everyone had assured them that they’d be kept together—that no one was going to try to separate them. They were twins. People would understand that you couldn’t just take the one and leave the other. They had an unbreakable and psychic bond, clearly.

But then one day the social worker hadn’t answered Matt’s question when he’d asked about it again, seeking reassurance.

Mike’s stomach had dropped then. And sure enough, the next thing they knew, people were throwing around words like ‘specialty care’ and ‘high-risk’ and ‘better in the long-run.’

Mike had gone to a foster home screaming and fighting in the back of a sedan. Matty stayed behind, allegedly to be placed in some kind of group home with more ‘supportive’ care.

That was seventeen years ago--almost eighteen years ago.

Mike only knew what Matt looked like these days because he shaved every morning in the bathroom mirror. But, he told himself, not for much longer.

He hadn’t become a bounty hunter for the looks. He’d done it for the money and the job experience. Could he track a criminal? Hell yeah. He’d been one. He knew how they thought. More importantly: could he track a brother?

He could, actually. He was a Murdock; he knew how they thought.

 --

 The job in the city was whatever. Took half an hour and a big smile to corner the gal like a rat. She went to the highest bidder; Mike went back out on the prowl.

Chances were that Matt would be drawn to Hell’s Kitchen. And chances were that he would be searching for Mike as Mike was for him. He was an idealist like that. Like Mike.

Awwww. Old habits die hard.

 --

 Hell’s Kitchen had changed over the years, but it still felt like home when Mike put a foot in the boundaries. He knew these stoops and all these torn posters. He knew that skyline and that raggedy flag pole.

The names on the businesses changed—some got new lights, some got new windows, but all in all, the feel was still there.

 --

 He set out to find Matt in the old, old haunts. Stopped by the church. The old kids’ home. They still hadn’t seen him, no, Mike. Sorry, my son.

He took a waltz down memory lane by the docks.

He found the greasiest looking coffee shop he could and sat at a sticky table, people-watching through the huge half-wall windows for about an hour.

Nothin’ yet.

His coffee was cold when he left.

  --

He ran into a girl at a bar that night under green and red neon lights. They danced close. She told him he reminded her of someone she knew, and Mike thought that that was just a lovely coincidence, sugar, wasn’t it?

He invited her to his hotel room. She accepted.

He woke up to waves of amber grain strewn across this pillow, sticking to his lips, and the smell of something powdery and floral in the endless line of this lady’s neck.

God, she was like a swan. Mike ought to buy her breakfast.

He did because he was a gentleman. He left to go grab a sandwich from the bodega outside but came back to find the bed and the room empty. There was a little note on the pad next to the bed that said ‘thanks, handsome’ with a smile face next to it and a number.

He eased himself down on to the bed and stuffed a sandwich in his mouth to grin around.

  --

Her name was Karen.

It wasn’t their last night. Mike saw her when she was in the city and they had a well-worn routine after a few months.

Every time, a new bar, a new club, a new drink. But the same dance and then the same chase and collapse.

She told him nothing about herself, and he loved that about her. She passed fingers through his hair. She trailed them across his jaw, bristly stubble or no.

And then the next morning, she was gone, and Mike was sighin’ like a blue bird in spring.

 --

 Valentine’s Day found Mike in the city. He didn’t delude himself with thinking that Karen was available—he wasn’t that full of it.

But he did think that even a lady as lovely and possibly taken as Karen deserved a bouquet of flowers from a ‘friend.’ So he took a meander down to a wholesaler and chatted up one of the makers until a collection of spring tulips graced by baby’s breath found their way into his hands.

Karen, he suspected, worked somewhere in an office. Her ever-present, practical pencil skirt said so, and the way that she frequented Josie’s told him that she lived in the area around 9th and 52nd.

It wasn’t hard to snoop. It wasn’t hard to trawl through the local business websites in that area, peeking at staff pages until low and behold, the golden grail herself appeared smiling on try number 7.

He smiled back at her photo and went back to get the name of the place and the address only to pause in his tracks.

Nelson & Murdock.

Karen worked at a law firm called Nelson & Murdock.

Huh.

Well. Good for that Murdock. Mike hoped he was out when he brought these flowers in.

 --

 The firm was dinky and crammed up two flights of stairs across from an orthodontist’s office. Mike pitied Karen for having to spend her days watching droves of traumatized middle schoolers leave that place with wires crammed in their faces. The flowers even looked like they were wilting in the hallway.

Mike gave them a pep talk on his way to the door.

He knocked but no one answered, so he turned the knob and a handful of people where sat looking nervous in the waiting area. The front desk was empty. Abandoned.

Oh, Karen.

Ever at work like you are at play.

Mike made his way over the desk and caught sight of a familiar fluffy little ball on a keychain at the edge of the desk.

It was adorable.

He found a scrap of paper by the phone, reached over and snagged it and a pen to leave a little love note when he felt a tug at his elbow.

He forced down the irritation and turned back with a smile. An older lady with huge bifocals squinted at him.

“Mr. Murdock,” she said. “I’ve got to go move my car. Don’t you give up my place, you hear?”

Mike forced himself to hold his smile.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I think you’ve got the wrong guy, madam.”

Murdock must have looked smooth as hell for Mike to have been mistaken for him.

The lady squinted left, right, and center, then scoffed and pinched his arm.

“Cheeky boy,” she said. “I’ll be right back.”

She left.

Mike’s brain short-circuited for another few seconds before declaring that whole situation unresolvable, bizarre, and emphatically not his problem. Sorry Nana. Go to the back of the line like everyone else.

He went back to writing his card.

“Matt?”

He didn’t mean to look up. It was a reflex, man. It came with the twin-territory, and this time it brought a moment of panic as Karen’s brow dropped stormily and her fists found her hips.

“Where the hell have you been? We’ve been calling you all morning?” she demanded.

Mike’s palms started sweating.

Did Karen? Not? Recognize him?

Had he misread this whole love affair? Or maybe it was the daylight that was confusing her?

It had to be the daylight, right?

“Matt,” Karen said, irate as could be in that pretty blue and white top. “Don’t just stand there. Say something.”

Ahahahahahaha.

Too close. Too much.

“MATT.”

Out we go, back to the hovel from which we came.

  ---

He breathed out hard in the street below and turned back to look up at the window of Nelson & Murdock. It was flung open and he didn’t give Karen the opportunity to get her nose out of it. He hurried off into the crowd, ducking and squirming until he was sure that he was good and gone from sight.

Then he found an alley to clutch at his heart in.

It had been years since someone had called him Matt. Sometimes he took the name on as a false one, when working for especially shitty shit-heads. But Karen??

Mike was positive he’d introduced himself as Mike. ‘Michael’ but more like Costello than Abbott, he’d said. Karen had laughed.

What the fuck, man? What the fuck?

He looked at the flowers in his hand.

A waste.

Hhhng. Alright, well. There was for sure to be someone needing cheering up at a bar somewhere. Might as well spare them for the Singles Awareness Gigs sure to be happening soon.

  ---

He ended up at Josie’s because he always ended up at Josie’s, but this time with barely anyone in the place at 3pm on Valentine’s Day, she actually noticed him and gave him an eyebrow. He chose to ignore it in order to wallow in self-pity and raised his glass to his lips.

It didn’t make it.

He stared in stunned silence at the hand suddenly covering his glass.

“I don’t think that’s a wise idea, pal,” Josie said.

Mike gaped at her in shock.

“I? Paid for this?” he said.

There was a long moment of awkward silence.

“Jesus, I’m so sorry,” Josie said. “My bad. I thought you were someone else.”

Someone else?

Someone—

WAIT.

“Someone else? Does someone who looks like me come here?” Mike blurted out with zero grace before he could stop himself. “Does he—do you know his name? Is he—does he—”

Josie frowned hard at him.

“You’re not Matt,” she said after a long moment. “I always thought you were Matt.”

Matt!!

Matty!! MATT. You little shit. You perfect, darling, little shit. Out here, comin’ to Josie’s like a chump—possible alcoholic Matt!

Okay, wait, roll that one back—one problem at a time.

“He’s my brother. I’ve been looking for him for eighteen years, we were separated in foster care—do you know where he lives?” Mike asked with no filter to be seen for miles.

Was it professional of him?

No.

But were hugs at airports ever professional? Exactly. Get off his case.

He beamed wide at Josie, but her face did not reciprocate the gesture. Actually, it seemed to be doing the opposite and that made this little squirming feeling start up in Mike’s gut.

“Christ,” Josie said. “I’m so sorry, man.”

Wh-what?

“You’re gonna need a double.”

What did that mean?

“Take this.”

No. No, what did that mean?

“Take the shot, kid. Trust me. You’re gonna need it.”

  ---

No.

Just.

No. No, no, no, no, no.

Josie rubbed her fingernails against her cheek and sighed.

“His owner brings him along,” she said. “Lets him work at their law firm with him—he’s made the papers, sure, but you know. It’s all kind of colored by the fact that he can’t really do shit without permission.”

Mike rolled the tumbler in his hand around.

Nelson, eh? So called ‘owner’ of the android called Matthew Michael Murdock.

Ahahahaha.

Get ready to die, motherfucker.

“But he tries to drink—Matt does,” Mike felt himself say.

Josie didn’t want to look at him.

“Sometimes, it’s like he forgets he’s a droid,” she said. “Usually, he’s got someone with him to keep him out of trouble.”

Fuck.

Fuck.

“I’m sorry, Mike,” Josie said. “It’s a load of bull.”

FUCK.

He set the tumbler down.

“How much do I owe you?” he asked.

“It’s on the house,” Josie said. “Best of luck.”

Yeah.

Thanks.

  ---

Matty was—

Matty was—

Mike made it back to his hotel room before sinking to his knees by the bed. God had never heeded his prayers before, but things were different now.

Matty couldn’t pray for the both of them anymore. He was—He was--

Mike had to—

God, please.

Please. Give him back. What once was lost had to be found.

What once was lost, God.

Mike had lost him.

He’d lost him forever.

Give him back.

 ---

 He typed Matt’s name into the search engine on his phone and made it through one whole article before he was kneeling before a much harder, much more porcelain altar.

He tried again in the bathroom this time, sat on the floor with his back against the tub.

The bot that someone had made out of Matty looked so sweet. Like Mike, but softer in the cheeks. Younger. Forever 22 or something close to it.

He was still blind, despite all his other modifications and he was a little famous in the field of robotics. Not that the bot appeared to care. The articles claimed that the bot had recovered and retained memories prior to what they kept calling his ‘transition.’

What they meant was when he’d been transformed into a human weapon. An inhuman weapon.

Matty, I’m so sorry.

 ---

 There was only so much self-pity a man could wallow in before his ass started to fall asleep. But more than that, Mike was a Murdock. The tingling in his limbs was lost to the ever-increasing roar of fire in his ears.

That bastard. That bastard lawyer.

Taking Matt after everything he’d been through and turning him into some prop to be used as a showpiece in a grand legal theatre.

Fuck no. Fuck that.

Mike wasn’t fucking this up twice.

 ---

 Nelson & Murdock was closed by the time Mike once again found himself outside its doors. He stared at the sign’s heavy black letters and gave in to the devil raging, hot, underneath the skin of his chest.

He left the shattered doorglass on the ground as he made his way to the opposite stairwell.

 ---

 Karen.

  ---

She lived nearby 9th and 52nd. She was probably going home to her handsome hubby, who’d shower her in chocolate and wine and flowers. But on the way, she’d make a stop. She was a working gal. She wouldn’t have had time to pick up a gift in return before her shift started.

Mike found her at Walgreens, talking on the phone to someone while she petted every teddy bear on the rack in front of her.

He didn’t feel sorry.

She didn’t scream when his hand found her face. He didn’t give her the chance.

  ---

He ditched the hat in the back storeroom of Walgreens and took Karen right through to the loading dock. She thrashed hard.

Mike could barely feel the movement. He was on the lookout for eyes.

An elbow found his ribs and a foot his toes before he got them far enough from view that he could let her go to readjust his grip, and when he did, he got her against a wall, panting.

This lady was tough. But in a flash, she mouth dropped open and her wrists went limp in his grip.

“Mike?” she asked after a second. “Is that you? What are you doing here? Why are you—”

“Where. Is. My brother?” Mike cut her off.

Karen recoiled until her head hit the bricks behind her.

“Your—”

“My brother Matthew,” Mike snapped.

The rush of traffic settled into the silence.

“Oh my god,” Karen whispered. “He’s your brother?”

“Yes. He is, as a matter of fact, and whatever you think you’re doing to him, I will do to you and that fucking lawyer ten times worse,” Mike said. “So you’re going to help me or I’m going to—”

“I knew I knew you.”

He felt himself go stiff.

“Matt talks like you,” Karen said softly. “Just like you.”

Wh—he did?

Karen’s fingers brushed the tops of Mike’s hands. They were cold.

“Mike,” she whispered, sounding for all the world like she was on the verge of tears, “He’s going to be so happy to see you.”

Wh—she’d—she’d take him to Matt?

“Of course,” Karen said. “He’s one of my best friends.”

They were friends? How were they friends? Was this a sick joke?

“No. It’s not. I met him years ago it’s just—I didn’t realize you were—okay, there’s just one problem,” Karen said.

 ---

 Uh?

“Sensory input! Greater than! Processing—PROCESSING—processing—”

“Matty,” Franklin Nelson said with both of his hands out in front of him. “I see that we are very excited.”

“SENSORY INPUT—”

“And I love your enthusiasm, and I know you love your enthusiasm,” Nelson continued. “But if you don’t settle down the tiniest fraction of an inch, you’re going to blow a fuse and—”

“SEN—sen-S-S-SEN—”

Uh?

“This is excited,” Karen explained while Nelson wrestled Matt into sitting for the second time since Mike had arrived at the door.

This was excited?

“He’s normally much more in tune with himself,” Karen said. “But I think you’ve jumpstarted some shit that even his additional processing power isn’t enough for.”

Additional what now?

“It’s a long story,” Karen said over the saddest sound that Mike had ever heard.

They both looked over to where Nelson had successfully gotten Matt back to sitting and was now coaching him through whatever the bot-equivalent of breathing exercises were.

“How long?” Mike asked.

Karen’s blue eyes pitied him.

 ---

 Okay, okay, okay. So. Nelson? Not a threat. Definitely a boon.

Matty?

Hng.

Heavy.

“I’ve literally never seen him this excited,” Nelson said. “And I’ve known him for seven years.”

No shit?

“No shit, we met at Columbia,” Nelson sighed. “I’m sorry about this.”

It was fine. Mike deserved this. Probably.

Jesus, what the fuck had they replaced Matt’s muscle’s with? How was he this warm and this heavy and not human all at the same time.

He’d seemed to have decided that Mike needed a full-body hug and while the first ten seconds had been cry-worthy, the last minute or so was getting a little suffocating.

“Matt, let him go,” Nelson pleaded. “He can’t breathe, bud. He’s gotta breathe, he’s not like you—”

“Subject: Mike. Michael Murdock,” Matt said brightly, scrambling off Mike out of no-fucking-where and getting way too far into Nelson’s face.

“Mike, yeah, you said,” Nelson said.

“Mike. Born October 21—”

“I get it. He’s your twin.”

“—at Metropolitan General Hospital at 11:32pm—”

���Matt,  you’re info-dumping friend, we don’t need this. We believe you. Don’t give me his social. Don’t—”

“—Social Security number 6—”

“MATT. End request. End search term. Exit page.”

Uh?

“He did this with the DA last week when he got too riled up,” Karen said sympathetically. “We have no clue where he finds it or better yet, where he even stores it.”

“—my brother, FOGGY.”

“Yeah, I fuckin’ see it, man. It’s before mine very own eyes. Y’all are identical. It’s weird.”

“I missed him.”

“Tell that to him then. Stop touching me, ew. No. Go douse him with your weird fuckin’ eye fluid—atta boy, good job—NO. NO CLIMBING.”

Mike…was not prepared for the care and keeping of Bot-Matt. He had to admit that now. All those plans of snatching Matt out of the hands of these evil, evil people were breaking up into little fragments of puzzle pieces and he’d never felt more like shit because god.

He was supposed to look after his brother, wasn’t he?

Wasn’t he?

“I’m so sorry about this,” Franklin Nelson said with Matt leaning almost completely out of his grip and making that horrible sad noise again. “But I think I’m gonna need to cool him down a bit.”

 ---

 Mike couldn’t stop rubbing at his face.

Matt was sprawled out across Nelson’s bed like he was sleeping in the sunlight. The wires plugged into the back of his neck slipped off the edge of the bed and led all the way to a laptop that was just about sweating with how hard it was working.

From the side, it looked like he was human. Absolutely, unequivocally human.

Younger than Mike now, though. Permanently halted at 24 years old. No wonder Karen hadn’t recognized Mike early on. Matty’s jaw was still slim where Mike’s had hardened square like Dad’s. The only facial hair he had was in his eyebrows and eyelashes—there was no reason to add stubble to a bot. It was just more maintenance. Just another aesthetic modification.

“I’m sorry, Mike.”

Mike turned to Nelson.

He didn’t look or talk like a single one of the bot traffickers than Mike had dragged in from the cold—and he’d done the full range of them, from the cackling madhatters to the cooing, babytalkers to the silent so-called geniuses. Nelson exhibited only exasperation.

The story that Karen told about his and her early encounters with Matt made it seem like Nelson honestly considered Matt to be human, like him. Like all of them.

“You helped him,” Mike said quietly.

“If I’d have known that he had you, then I would have helped him find you sooner,” Nelson said. “But I thought he was on his own. He never mentioned anyone else. I should have asked.”

No. No, that was—That was okay, somehow.

“We got separated a lifetime ago,” Mike said. “People thought that I’d be easier to adopt. And clearly he had other things going on.”

Nelson winced.

“That’s shit,” he said.

“And wrong,” Mike sighed. “I don’t even know what to do now. I can’t take care of him like this. I don’t know the first thing about droid maintenance or computers.”

Nelson considered him.

“Well, the good news is that you don’t have to—take care of him, I mean,” he said. “Matt takes care of himself. He’s actually really good at it when he’s not blowin’ his top about some damn thing. You’ll see when he wakes up. And on top of that, he’s already got a mechanic, so when something goes wrong that he can’t fix, we take him to Parker and he does the heavy lifting there.”

Mike swallowed.

“You guys really have it worked out,” he realized.

Nelson sighed.

“Like I said. I’ve known him for seven years. We’ve lived together ever since.”

Woah. Wait. What now?

Nelson turned exhausted eyes onto him.

“I co-signed for his loft, but he just comes and spends all his time here when he’s not out smashing faces. Claims my bed. Steals all the sun spots. Makes me only shit coffee in return.”

He—Matt—Matt had his own apartment? He could do that?

“Sure? Why not? He owns half the firm, too,” Nelson said. “I mean, they wouldn’t let me put it in his name, technically. So it’s through a wildly complicated, uh—let’s call it a ‘thing’ for simplicity’s sake. But yeah. If anything happens to me, full ownership goes to him. But as far as we’re concerned, it’s half and half. The only thing Matt can’t do is practice law on his own, so we have to double-team pretty much every case.”

Mike needed to sit down.

“Oh, for sure. Just not there. I’d recommend out of range, here. Sit here,” Nelson said.

 ---

 Matt woke up when Karen snuck around the bed to remove the wires from his neck. He scrambled up and fell right over the side of the bed onto Karen’s feet.

She swore. He groaned. Nelson pointedly did not come back into the room.

This time, though, when Matt got back up, Karen pulled him in the direction of Mike and took his wrist. She held out a hand for Mike.

Mike’s heart fluttered.

He gave it to her and Karen put his hand directly in Matt’s palm.

There was silence.

“Mikey,” Matt said after a long moment.

Mike’s eyes started burning.

“You came for me,” Matt said.

Mike couldn’t make his throat work. It took two goes to find his voice.

“Yeah,” he croaked. “I sure did.”

“You ain’t singin’, though,” Matt pointed out. “Why aren’t you singin’?”

Because he was cryin’, man. God, give a guy a break.

“Matty, what did they do to you?” he asked.

Matt made a strange sound as he mulled over the question. A kind of whirring noise.

“Made me into a droid, dumbass,” he said.

Mike laughed before he could stop himself.

“Can I have a non-lethal hug?” he asked.

Matt whirred.

“No promises,” he said.

 ----

[another-sonic-blog]

Stages: The Bike

Stages: Acquaintance Pt.2: The Bike (Chapter 3)

ShadAmy (Friends or lovers, you decide)

2k

Previous: https://another-sonic-blog.tumblr.com/post/190028206745/the-cake-shadamy

A/N: I need to start thinking on a title for this story.

.

"A-a-agent Sh-Sh-Shadow?"

"What?"

The agent gulped, "Your, assistance is required at the commander's office."

Shadow nodded and the agent ran away. Shadow didn't mean to scare the guy, but it low-key made him feel good whenever that happened.

He walked throw the corridors he knew very well, all black and although was alright with the choice of colors, something different once in a while would be nice.  

He knocked on the door of the Commander and the automatically opened.

"Take a seat, agent Shadow." The commander said as he pointed at the chair in front of him.

"No, need, just give me the details of the mission and Team Dark will be on its way," Shadow responded as he crossed his arms.

"This is not about Team Dark."

"A solo mission then?"

"No, it's not about a mission." The commander then was fast to turn on the plasma TV that was in his office. An image of a red bird boy appeared on it.

"Do you know this is?" The Commander asked Shadow.

"Never seen him."

"Really? He stated that a month ago you beat him up and left him hanging on a light pole."

Shadow stood quiet as he stared into the Commander's eyes. There was a silence between them until the Commander spoke again.

"Did you beat him? Agent Shadow?"

No response.

"Agent Shadow!"

"I don't know! If I could remember every guy I beat up, I would be a millionaire." Shadow responded.

"Agent Shadow..." The Commander sighed, "You are a millionaire."

"Oh, right."

"Look, this boy is the son of one of the investors of G.U.N., he pays for 7% percent of G.U.N's expenses." The Commander added, "We can't afford to lose him."

"That was a month ago, why is he complaining about it now?" Shadow asked.

"I don't know and I don't care. My apologies, Agent Shadow, but I am required to give you a punishment."

.

.

.

"And that's how Shadow lost his motorcycle."

"Wow, I feel bad for him," Amy said as she looked at her feet. They were currently at Rouge's apartment, getting ready for Amy's dates.

"Well, he kinda deserved it. That will teach him to control himself...He can't just go around punching people." Said Rouge as she cut Amy's hair.

"Yeah but...Shadow really likes his bike, doesn't he?"

"Absolutely, there's nothing or anyone he cares about but that motorcycle of his."

Amy sighed, she remembers making arrangements with the Lucas, the red bird who harassed her a month ago. Lucas agreed to not say anything about Shadow to G.U.N if Amy went on dates with him.

And she agreed, she didn't want to put Shadow in any trouble. However, she couldn't do it any longer. The guy was just a jerk and stupid. It comes to show why no girl would date him unless they were obliged to.

If she only had stated her ground in the beginning, Shadow wouldn't have beat up the guy. He wouldn't have gotten in trouble with G.U.N and he wouldn't lose his bike.

"Come on, honey don't look too sad, it's just Shadow. He will get over it."

But Amy couldn't get over it.

.

It was a Sunday morning and all Shadow wanted to do was sleep. He didn't want to go out of bed, maybe just a little breakfast, but he could order for Chinese take out when he wakes up.

But destiny had other plans for him.

Ding dong.

He was just going to pretend he didn't hear that.

Ding Dong

He didn't hear again.

Ding Dong

Oh for Chaos' sake.

"WHO THE FU-"

Shadow stopped himself as he opened the door and saw the pink hedgehog again. "What do you want?"

"Hey, Shadow! Did I wake you up?"

Shadow looked at her and didn't say anything as he scratched his belly. "What do you think?"

"Sorry," Amy added, "I have a small present for you."

"Is it a cake?"

"No."

"Then I don't want it." Shadow was about to close the door on her but Amy was fast to put her foot between Shadow's entrance and the door.

"It's a bike."

.

"Ta-da!" Amy said as she showed him the motorcycle she got for him. They were outside Shadow's apartment on the parking site.

"This is trash."

"Hey!" Amy said. Alright, she had to admit, the bike was a bit rusty. Flat tire, the paint was worn and maybe the battery didn't work anymore, but it could still work.

"I don't want it, take this out of my parking site."

"Come on Shadow, just give it a small try."

"If I wanted a new bike, I would have bought another one already," Shadow said as he began to walk away.  

"Why haven't you then?"

"Because it's not about the bike itself...it's about the memories I have with it," Shadow responded.

That was something Amy couldn't beat. As far as she knew, and according to what Rouge told her, Shadow has had the same motorcycle for years. She sighed, there was only one thing left to do.

"Sorry, nevermind mind," Amy said as she held the bike by its handle and made it move alongside her. Shadow wasn't going to stop her. He wanted to sleep more and then order take out.

"Where are you going with that?" Shadow sighed defeated.

"Home." Amy was lying, she was actually thinking of going to G.U.N. and ask the Commander to give Shadow give his bike back.

Shadow really wanted to just let her go. To just sleep and forget about his problems. "That bike is trash but...we could make it work, I guess."

Once again, Shadow didn't mean to say that.

.

"Pass me the Dremel,"

"Ok!"

"Give me a pair of pliers."

"Ok!"

"Give me a Hex screw"

"Ok!"

"Screwdriver."

Shadow was working on the Engine of the motorcycle. After the adjustments he made to it, he was sure even this trash was going to work.

"Alright, it should be working now." Shadow added, "I have to admit, you could be pretty useful. I didn't know you knew about mechanics."

"I only know the name of things, I spend some time with Tails once in a while." Amy moved a string of her hair to the side, smiling and a bit proud that someone like Shadow actually recognized her.

"Now, let's paint!" Amy excitedly clapped her hands as she stood up.

"I'll leave you to that then," Shadow stood up as well. They were in the apartment's garage. Every person who lived in the apartment had a personal garage. Of course, Shadow's garage was a full floor garage. Full of cars and motorcycles. Amy had to admit that she felt intimated a bit.

"Wait, no, you have to paint it with me!"

"I don't paint." Shadow felt Amy grab him by his arm and she shook her off immediately. "Don't touch me."

"I won't touch you if you paint with me." Amy keeping touching Shadow but this time in a more annoying manner. She kept poking his arm.

"I am not joking," Shadow grabbed Amy's hand, "You are wrong if you think I am won't punch you just because you are a girl."

Amy looked at Shadow with her green sparkling eyes, she blinked a few times.

Shadow wasn't gonna do it, there was no way he was going to paint. Not now, not ever.

"Fine." He said.

How does she do that?

.

Since Shadow was forced to paint, Amy let him pick whatever color he wanted.

And of course, it was black.

Amy gave it a small touch as she hand-painted Shadow's spiky red logo. It was a bit messy because Amy's hand was shaking as it was her first time doing the logo.

"We are finally done!" Amy said as she smiled at Shadow.

Alright, Shadow had to admit that the bike looked good. The led lights looked perfect with it. The glossy black paint just made the bike look dangerous and the used tires gave it an old look that made Shadow find it amusing.

"Well, thank you, Shadow!" Amy added, "I'll take my leave now."

Shadow noticed that Amy was leaving with the bike, "What do you think you are doing?"

"Leaving with my bike," Amy added, "I thought you said you didn't want it."

At this point, he knew she was playing with him.

"I am kidding, you keep it." Amy smiled as she threw the key at Shadow. He caught them, he noticed that the key had a rose keychain.

Note to himself: Throw that keychain away.

"Alright, goodbye, Shadow." Amy waved as she walked away. "And I am sorry, I couldn't give you something better."

"Just don't come to my house again."

"Deal."

Shadow watched Amy leave as he placed his new bike on a parking spot. One questions still prevailed on his mind,

Why would Amy give him a bike?

.

Shadow and Rouge were at the gym, practicing their martial arts. Rouge was holding the punching bag as Shadow gave it kicks and punches.

"You have been riding the same bike for weeks now. Did you already move on from BB?" Rouge asked as she teasingly joked about Shadow's old bike's name.

"BB and I...are taking a break," Shadow added. "Now, I am down to riding the trash Amy gave me."

"Trash?"

"Yeah an oxidated trash, I fixed up."

Rouge wasn't one to mix her life with work. Especially, if they were at G.U.N. However if Shadow was acting like a jerk, she was going to let him know.

"Oh 'fixed up?" Rouge added, "Just how Amy fixed up so many dates with that red bird boy, who you beat up?"

"What?" Shadow inquired as he kept punching the bag.

"Amy made a deal with the guy. She dates him and he doesn't tell his daddy. His daddy doesn't say anything to G.U.N." Rouge sighed as she felt Shadow kicking the punching bag this time. "Do I have to describe it with dolls? Because I can."

That made a lot of sense actually. He beat up the guy around a month ago and he didn't say anything. The reason behind that was the Amy was dating that guy for a month, just so he wouldn't get in trouble.

"Why did she stop?" Shadow asked.

"Really, Shadow? I just told you that Amy-"

"Why did she stop?!" Shadow said one more time with a loud voice and Rouge looked at him surprised. Shadow wasn't one to lose his cool like that.

"The guy was just a jerk, he would make fun of her, burp all the time and treats everyone like trash!" Rouge felt the punching bang being punched with a greater force. "She did all of that for you and more! She even went and spend all of her savings just to buy that bike you call 'trash'!

Next second, she watched Shadow's hand pierce through the punching bag.

Rouge sighed, she knew Shadow for a long time but sometimes, she just couldn't understand the guy. Rouge went to her gym bag and pulled out keys from it.

"Commander told me you are free from your punishment," Rouge said as she threw Shadow's motorcycle keys at him.

Shadow caught them with one hand since the other one was still caught in the punching bag.

He watched Rouge go out of the gym. Angry, really angry. But her anger couldn't be compared to the one he was feeling.

He was angry with...himself.

There were a lot of questions but one thing was for sure.

He will be using his new bike for a while.

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Next part: https://another-sonic-blog.tumblr.com/post/190338829140/stages-the-team-dark-rose

A/N: I am enjoying writing this. I'll be working on some SilvAmy stuff and then I'll write the next chapter for this!