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Assistant: Title: The Me I Don't Want You To See
        Author: ArtificialChaosCola ArtificialChaosCola 
        Chapter: 22/22 
        Summary: Sick of Sonic constantly inspiring the world, Eggman injects him with a serum intended to make the hero less... charismatic. Instead, it disrupts the delicate balance of Chaos Energy within Sonic's heart. Unable to hide his darkest emotions, Sonic grows violent and demanding.Shadow believes he can cure him, but the Ultimate Lifeform's presence causes twisted changes in Sonic's persona, frightening their friends... and Shadow himself. However, Shadow also has parts of himself that he keeps hidden, parts that the corrupted hero would want nothing more than to expose.
        Contents: Chapter 22: Alone
    

    


      
        
          I am so sorry to those who wanted the spicy, but I needed ONE more thing to happen beforehand... So please take this and expect things to get steamy NEXT time, I promise! Have mercy!As always, let me know if you spot any spelling errors or if anything isn't clear! Enjoy!
            
            (See the end of the chapter for  more notes.)
            
      
  

  
  
    
    A Flicky had made its way aboard the ARK. Such a thing was unheard of. The space station’s strict protocols made contamination from Earth nearly impossible – harmful pathogens could disrupt everything they were working for, so the supply aircraft that traveled between the planet and the ARK once a month underwent rigorous sanitation procedures. Every surface was sterilized, every shipment inspected. The only possible points of entry were the crew’s designated airlocks and a single ventilation shaft buried deep within the ship’s engine nozzle – both of which should have made stowaways a fantasy. The aircraft never lingered outside the controlled environment of the military base, only leaving the hangar for launch and landing.  And yet, as most life on Earth tended to do, one tiny bird went beyond the expectations of mankind. Every safeguard was made obsolete. Even more baffling was how it had survived. It should have been burned away by the engine’s fumes or cast into the abyss of space. It should have suffocated, starved, or at the very least, made its presence known before or during the long journey. But it hadn’t. The Flicky had stayed silent, unnoticed, until the exact moment the supply team had finished their work.Once the ship had departed, that was when it began to  sing. One might think that seeing such a familiar, earthly creature after months in deep space would bring a sense of comfort. But the moment the soft chirping echoed through the ARK’s pristine halls, the station fell into dreadful chaos.Dr. Gerald Robotnik was  furious.  The research crew scrambled into action, tearing through every room in search of the feathered intruder. For the real crisis wasn’t with the Flicky itself – it was the fear of it making contact with Maria.As a precaution, the young girl was placed under strict quarantine, locked away from even the completely sterile corridors she called home. Despite the risk to her life nullified, that, of course, still meant disaster. A certain one-month-old Project did not take kindly to Maria’s distress, and the tantrums he threw only added to the station’s upheaval. Gerald, usually so passive, was already at the point of  threatening whoever was responsible with cruelties unknown to all but him. Fortunately, the search did not last long. After a day of frantic hunting, the Flicky was discovered huddled inside one of the kitchen cabinets, frightened but unharmed. The scientists wasted no time containing it, and though the crisis had passed, protocol demanded yet another deep clean of the ARK’s halls and ventilation systems. After three days, when the last decontamination cycle had finished, was Maria finally allowed to leave quarantine and interact with everyone once more.   That  was when the tantrums  finally ceased.  … Chaos had a habit of showing up twice in close intervals.  “Can we see it, grandfather?” Maria bounced on her heels, excitement spilling from her in soft, eager giggles as she clasped her hands together tightly. Her golden hair swayed with the movement, catching the artificial light of the lab, her entire being alight with anticipation.Gerald sighed, leaning back in his chair, his eye twitching at the creak the old frame let out beneath his weight. Across the ARK, nestled safely within the garden enclosure, the Flicky surely flitted about – a small, delicate thing, its blue feathers vibrant against the lush greenery cultivated by the station’s researchers. The enclosure had been stocked with fresh seeds, ensuring the creature’s comfort until the next supply ship arrived to escort it back to Earth.A month. That was how long it would remain.Far too long for the  curiosity of a girl who had spent her life orbiting the planet she longed to touch.Her bright blue eyes gleamed, utterly enraptured by the thought of seeing the tiny creature up close, so lost in hopeful musings that she failed to notice the whining at her side.Gerald did not.Beneath the long folds of her dress, small hands gripped at the fabric, clenching and unclenching with quiet insistence. Shadow the Hedgehog pouted up at her, his round, youthful face scrunched in clear discontent. His tiny quills bristled, his stubby tail flicking behind him, and though he could stand on his own, he wobbled as he clung to her for support, held upright through sheer, stubborn will.The Professor’s gaze softened slightly as he observed the child’s frustration. Shadow was growing at an accelerated rate, his body rapidly developing, but his emotions… those remained as raw and unrefined as any child’s. For all his extraordinary intelligence and the alien DNA woven into his very being, his petty streak was achingly  human. And in this moment, his sulking was anything but subtle.The hedgehog must have understood, at least in part, that this  thing  they were discussing  ,  this  Flicky,  was the reason Maria had been taken from him in the first place –  their first true separation, their first time apart with no way for him to see her. To Shadow, it was nothing more than a nuisance, an unwelcome force that had stolen her attention and  her away.Gerald exhaled through his nose, pinching the bridge as a weary smile threatened to betray his stoicism. Maria’s wonder, Shadow’s… possessiveness… but even so, he knew how easily things could spiral if left unchecked.“Maria,” he said, his voice tinged with warning, “I’m not sure that’s a good idea… If it breaches containment, and you’re near it…” He trailed off, allowing the unspoken consequences to linger between them. “Who knows what could happen?”“You  did  say it had no chance of escaping earlier today, and if you’re there with me, I’m sure nothing will go wrong… Just five minutes, I promise!” Maria cut in quickly, her voice bright and insistent, a sharp contrast to the way her fingers twisted the hem of her dress. She had rehearsed this conversation, prepared herself for every possible way it could turn against her.“I just… I-I really want to show Shadow what a  real  Flicky looks like…” She hesitated for only a second before pressing forward, her grip tightening on the fabric. “I promised I’d show him one someday, and now I can…!” Gerald paused mid-breath, his expression tightening. … 
   A real Flicky… 
 The ARK was home to the most brilliant minds humanity had to offer. With them came an endless wealth of knowledge – books, photos, research papers, video footage, firsthand accounts. If there was anything to be known about a Flicky that came from human, it could be found within these walls, captured in static words and images.Maria had seen these things. She had read the books, listened to the stories. Yet none of it could erase the truth: she had been an infant when she left Earth. Too young to  remember birds.She knew  of  them –  they looked like, their place in the world, the songs they sang – but she would never be able to recall the presence of one. The childhood memories that should have belonged to her were blank pages.And Shadow… Indeed, he had never seen one at all.Gerald studied the boy beside her, his tiny quills bristling as he clung stubbornly to Maria’s leg now, babbling to himself. Despite his petulance, this would be his first true interaction with an animal that possessed even a flicker of higher intelligence. The lizards and fish housed in the ARK’s artificial ecosystems had offered him little in the way of social connection – he could observe them, feed them, but a Flicky…There was something inexplicable about the bond between these creatures and Mobians, something humankind had yet to fully understand. Even now, the opportunity to witness such an interaction, especially with  Shadow  , was invaluable. A chance to examine the nature of that connection, to study Shadow’s own capacity for attachment and comprehension, and to see  how well the Ultimate Lifeform was made.  
   … 
  … Shadow would never cooperate without Maria… … The old man sighed again, softer this time as he smiled warily. “...Hm, five minutes then.” Maria’s face lit up like the sun, her eyes gleaming with triumph. “Thank you so much, grandpa! Shadow, are you excited?” The only response was a low groan that rumbled from beside her. — The sliding doors parted with a soft hiss. Maria stepped forward, her shoes barely whispering against the pristine floor as she all but rushed inside, eager but mindful enough to restrain herself. The air was crisp – sterile, yet tinged with the faintest trace of soil and chlorophyll, a carefully regulated mimicry of the world far below. It was an illusion, a compromise, but to Maria, it was the closest thing to home the ARK could offer.Shadow grumbled low in his throat from his place in the crook of Gerald’s arm as the man followed. His tiny fingers clutched the collar of his creator’s lab coat, his lip jutting forward in an unmistakable pout. Crimson eyes darted around the enclosed hallway as they entered the garden’s observation area, pupils flicking from shadow to shadow. His quills bristled slightly, but enough to betray his unease as he took in the unfamiliar space with thinly veiled suspicion. He had yet to be brought here, so this was all entirely new…It was a small oasis within the ARK, one of the few spaces designed to sustain plant life beyond the confines of a laboratory. Its sealed environment allowed Maria a rare glimpse of something  almost  like Earth, a facsimile carefully constructed to ensure no stray pollen would threaten her fragile body. Vines curled in disciplined spirals along cold metal railings, vibrant green against the clinical sterility of their surroundings. Planters of beautiful flowers – hand-crafted and arranged by the research team – stood in neat rows along the walls, their petals unfurling beneath the artificial sunlight spilling from panels embedded in the ceiling. It was orderly, contained. Controlled life.All of it sat beyond a broad observation window – the very place Maria was drawn to like a magnet.She pressed both hands against the cool glass, eyes wide, breath fogging faintly against the surface as she searched the containment area beyond – a compact biodome bathed in crisp, white light.The enclosure was designed to replicate the Flicky’s natural habitat as best as possible: patches of grass, a scattering of foliage, a few small trees planted in careful imitation of a forest. Everything was precise, measured.  Enough  to function, but still… missing something important.Her gaze swept across the carefully curated space.Within the sterile recreation of a world she had never known, the Flicky was nowhere to be seen. Maria frowned, tilting her head to the side. “Where… where could it be…?”Gerald stepped up beside her, shifting Shadow’s weight in his arm without thought as he, too, scanned the greenery. The child had yet to release his grip on Gerald’s collar, though his pout had softened into something more neutral – more  tired,  even – as he stared ahead blankly. There were no flashing lights to distract him, no experiments to watch, no toys to busy his hands. The quiet stretched, and his grumpiness dulled into boredom.“It’s likely built a nest somewhere we can’t see,” Gerald answered, his tone warm with reassurance. He turned his head down to full look at the girl, offering her a small smile. “Flickies are crafty creatures. They know how to tuck themselves away when they feel scared.”Maria hummed in thought, her expression turning unsettled. “So… it  hasn’t  escaped?”Gerald chuckled, shaking his head just as Shadow yawned against his shoulder. “Fret not, Maria. We would know if it had. The enclosure is designed so that anything alive moving  in  or  out would trigger an alarm, and I've set it so only my ID badge could be used to gain access to it.” He gestured lightly toward the control panel embedded in the wall that glowed a comforting green. “Just be patient. I’m sure it’ll show itself soon enough… Your five minutes don’t count until it shows itself!”Reassured by his words, Maria turned her full attention back to the glass. Blue eyes moved from branch to branch, sweeping over the underbrush with eager determination. For a moment, doubt had crept in and soured her excitement, but now… now she let hope bloom again.As she waited, her mind drifted, fingers fidgeting with the hem of her dress. She thought of the books she had read, countless stories of Mobians and Flickies, of the bond they supposedly shared. Anything that could ease her in this moment, and prepare her… … Flickies and Mobians  are  friends. She had seen that phrase a dozen times, over and over, in different ways but always meaning the same thing. A bright little bird perched on a Mobian’s shoulder, following them through thick and thin. It was never questioned. It was simply  known , a truth older than time itself.A spark of realization flickered to life.“Maybe…” Maria straightened, turning to her grandfather with renewed excitement. “Maybe  Shadow should be the one to tap on the glass!”Gerald lifted a curious brow at her sudden outburst, amusement softening the deep lines of his face. “Oh? And why is that?”“Well… Flickies  like  Mobians, right?” She rocked on her heels idly, unable to keep still as mirth bubbled in her chest. “I’ve read that so many times in so many different books… Flickies don’t really like  people  , but maybe if it sees Shadow, it’ll know that we’re nice! And… and maybe it’ll even want to be our  friend ! Wouldn’t that be special, grandpa?”The man hummed in consideration, gaze shifting to the small hedgehog nestled against his chest. Shadow had dozed off entirely, his small hands still fisted in the fabric of Gerald’s coat, ears drooped in drowsy relaxation. The conversation meant nothing to him…A slow smile tugged at the corners of the scientist’s lips.“Clever thinking, Maria,” he chuckled, warmth swelling in his chest at her reasoning. She was quick on her feet in the face of uncertainty, a trait that made him  so proud. “It’s a hypothesis worth testing. Let’s give it a try.”As carefully as possible, he pried Shadow’s tiny claws from his collar. The hedgehog grumbled, shifting sluggishly in protest, but Gerald merely chuckled as he handed him over to Maria. She hugged the hybrid close, adjusting to his weight with a bounce. Shadow whined at the movement, a soft huff leaving him before his red eyes cracked open, bleary and unfocused as he looked around in confusion. Maria couldn’t help but giggle. “Shadow, I’m sorry to wake you… but I need your help!” 
   “...Marmar…”
 Shadow rubbed at his eyes, ears flicking at the sound of her laughter. His face scrunched, displeased by the disturbance, and he mumbled the closest approximation of her name he could manage.…Gerald had long since given up on influencing what his first actual words would be. Maria had won that battle without even trying. It would only be a matter of time before he says it correctly.“The Flicky is hiding from us Shadow. It’s scared, and it won’t come out to say hello,” she explained eagerly, as though the hedgehog were her equal in capacity and expression. “However, grandfather and I have realized something important. Flickies like Mobians, and that’s what you are, Shadow! If  you tap on the glass, it’ll show itself for sure!So please, help us out!”She beamed as she adjusted her hold, shifting her grip beneath his arms before lifting him high into the air. It was with all the reverence of unveiling a great discovery, her blue eyes sparkling as if she had finally realized Shadow held the secret to science’s greatest wonders. … Shadow gave her a long, blank stare. Undeterred, Maria turned back toward the glass. With a grunt, she suddenly held the tiny hedgehog up as high as she could, as if he were a plush toy put on display. The hybrid dangled, blinking at his reflection in the clear surface. Immediately, his small hands pressed against it, a soft whine leaving him as his sleepy pout deepend.Maria jostled him lightly, impatient but doing her best to hide it. “Go on, Shadow! All you have to do is tap the glass! You don’t have to do anything else!”Shadow’s brow furrowed at her words, another long and drawn-out whine escaping his throat, seemingly finding this request to be  unreasonable. Gerald chuckled at the exchange. Shadow had a well-established reputation for napping often, and he did  not  take kindly to being disturbed – Gerald’s mustache had learned  that  firsthand. But no matter how stubborn he was, the man doubted he would ever truly refuse Maria. If nothing else, kindness toward her seemed as natural to the hedgehog as  breathing.  It was only a matter of time. Shadow wobbled slightly in her grasp, his tiny quills twitching in visible irritation, an exaggerated sigh making him deflate. The weight of  his  universe had been placed directly upon his small shoulders, after all, and the pressure of appeasing the girl was growing increasingly heavier. His crimson eyes flicked toward Maria in one last, an utterly exhausted look of protest on his face before he finally lifted one hand, giving the battier a single, unimpressed  tap  with his claw.It barely made a sound.Maria’s shoulders slumped. “Shadow, you  know  that was too soft!” It was her turn to whine now, tilting her head to the side as she gazed at him pleadingly, golden hair falling off her shoulder. “Can you try again? Louder this time? I  promise  you can nap when we’re done!” “Marrr…!”  Shadow squirmed, dragging out her name in a pitiful, drawn-out cry of refusal. His tiny hands flattened against the glass, and with all the might his small frame could muster, he pushed. The only result was Maria stumbling slightly from the force. The girl blinked rapidly for a moment before her eyes narrowed. Despite their bond, they were still both children. Clashing, at times, was inevitable. … Despite being a child, Maria’s influence could not be discounted.  Getting her way with Shadow, all the time, was inevitable.  With a sigh, gentle hands slowly turned Shadow in their hold, properly meeting the grumpy hedgehog’s sulky demeanor full on with a small smile. Blue eyes shimmered, pulling him so close to her face their noses touched.“Shadow,” Maria began with a murmur, her gentle voice as sweet as honey as she cooed at the infant encouragingly. “...It would really mean the world to me if you did this. We might not get a chance like this again. Even when we get to finally go down to Earth, Flickies don’t like humans like me and grandfather. I might never get to see one up close…”She pulled him into a hug then, pressing her lips to the space between his ears in a soft kiss as she smiled. “You’d be doing me the biggest favor ever. So… what do you say? Just a few more taps, as loud as you can? Please? I’ll even let you chew on my favorite stuffie when we’re done… The Flicky isn’t brave like you, so you just need to show it that it’s safe…”Maria rubber her face against his striped fur, giggling at the muffled little sighs he made in return.Even with her own impatience with his stubbornness, she loved him the moment he drew his first breath. Shadow may not fully understand the world around him yet, but that didn’t prevent him from being something precious.  … Shadow hesitated for a moment, his small head tilting ever so slightly as he pulled away from Maria’s embrace. Head turning to the foliage she was admiring so closely, the faintest furrow in his brow betraying the quiet churning of thought beneath his still-developing mind. It was an odd, serious expression. Much too solemn for a child his age.Gerald watched them in silence, intrigue growing heavier in his chest the longer he observed. Maria’s voice, gentle and guileless, wove through the space between them, and Shadow… listened. Not just in the way a child indulges idle chatter, but  truly  listened. There was an attentiveness to his posture, a weight to his stillness. He absorbed her words, considered them, let them root somewhere deep…It was  fascinating. Gerald had spent countless hours theorizing about Shadow’s cognition, about how an artificial lifeform might interpret commands, emotions, relationships. Was this attachment simply a byproduct of proximity? An instinctive response, like a newborn imprinting upon the first familiar presence it encountered? He had designed Shadow to be capable of learning, of adapting… but obedience? That was another question entirely. Shadow was meant to follow orders, to carry out directives with unwavering precision, as those funding the Project would so cruelly intent in the future. Yet here he was, responding to  Maria,  following her lead not out of programming, not out of obligation, but of his  own volition. It was not in her nature to force him to do something through intimidation or violence, so he had the open opportunity to assert himself…Yet, he didn’t.And perhaps, Gerald considered, that was the true test.Maria, unknowingly, was the key variable in an experiment Gerald had devised in secret – an experiment unlike any other he had ever conducted. No sterile laboratories, no controlled conditions. No imposed directives or fabricated incentives. There was no expectation for Shadow to heed her words, no built-in mechanism ensuring compliance. And yet…  he listened despite his body’s immediate needs to rest.Not passively, not out of obligation, but with intent. With  choice. That choice, more than anything, set Shadow apart from what he  should  have been.Gerald had studied the nature of Mobian hedgehogs extensively. Their species, as a whole, was free-spirited, fiercely independent. They resisted control, thrived on autonomy. But Shadow was not purely Mobian. The other half of his genetic makeup –  the alien half  – came from a species that survived through absolute unity. Their existence was not one of individual thought or self-determination, but of submission to a singular will, a force that dictated their every action to ensure survival. It was a power so intrinsic, so deeply embedded in their biology, that resistance should have been impossible.By all accounts, Shadow should have inherited that same instinct. His purpose, as determined by those who had funded his creation, was to  serve.  His will should have been something molded, something controlled, something dictated by forces beyond himself.And yet, here he was, a mere infant, defying that expectation. Certainly, circumstances would shape Shadow in the way they shaped everyone. One day, he could very well become the weapon of destruction G.U.N. or that…  thing  wished for him to be. But it would all be through his own declarations, not  just  because they wanted it to. … Was this deviation, this  flaw  in what the parties around Gerald demanded, a quiet act of defiance?A rejection, however small, of the ruthless vision imposed upon him?The thought coiled tight in the scientist’s chest chest, uneasy yet electric. He would like to believe himself above such maneuverings, above the careful, calculated subversions of fate. To manipulate, to scheme… to  resist … those were the tactics of warlords, of revolutionaries. Not scientists. ... Certainly not  a Robotnik. 
  ...
 …And yet, as he watched the two of them – Maria’s gentle voice, Shadow’s careful, deliberate attentiveness – an old feeling took root. Perhaps, despite all his denials, despite everything he had told himself… there was something undeniably  satisfying in the idea.  … Lost in his thoughts, Gerald almost didn’t notice the sound at first – soft, deliberate, yet distinct enough to pull him from his musings. A faint click of tiny claws against the glass, finally settled on a task. 
   Tap. 
 Then another. 
   Tap. Tap. 
 Maria tensed, her breath catching in her throat. Her fingers instinctively curled around Shadow, holding him just a little closer. The warmth of his small frame pressed into her chest, but her attention was fixed forward, her pulse quickening in time with the quiet, rhythmic pattern against the glass. Shadow’s palm lifted once more, crimson dancing around the enclosure. 
   Tap. Tap. 
 It was steady. Intentional. A call, almost – patient, persistent. Maria leaned forward, barely breathing. Surely… surely the Flicky had to have heard that. … … … At the moment when hope seemed to slip through her fingers, when Maria’s shoulders had begun to slump in quiet disappointment, the faintest  rustle  disturbed the foliage.She gasped, breath catching in her throat as her arms instinctively tightened around Shadow, nearly squeezing him in her excitement. The tiny hedgehog stiffened at the sudden movement, his tapping against the glass halting as his ears twitched forward, alert. 
  ...There it was. 
 A flicker of motion, a blur of color darting between the leaves, barely more than a whisper of life against the dense greenery. Maria held her breath, eyes wide, fingers trembling against Shadow’s quills. An uncertain chirp broke the stillness.  And then, at last, the Flicky emerged. … It was small – so much smaller than she expected. Barely larger than Maria’s palm, its round little body was cloaked in plush, downy feathers of the deepest blue. Golden eyes, wide and watchful, blinked at the glass with a mixture of curiosity and caution. Tiny talons gripped a slender branch, the creature tilting its head this way and that in minute, twitchy movements as it tried to make sense of the strange trio staring back at it.Maria’s breath hitched, the sheer wonder of the moment stealing the words from her lips. When she finally found her voice, it came in a hushed, reverent whisper, thick with awe. “It’s so cute…”  she breathed, her shoulders trembling in delight. This was greater than any photo, any video, any book she had owned…Gerald, ever observant, smiled softly. He took a slow step back, careful not to startle the creature with his looming presence. If Flickies naturally gravitated toward Mobians, perhaps they felt safer around children as well.“It seems your idea worked, Maria,” he mused, the approval clear in his voice. “Excellent work.”Maria hardly heard him. Her entire focus was on the tiny, vibrant life in front of her, her joy nearly overflowing. She nuzzled her cheek against the top of Shadow’s head, overcome with excitement.“Shadow, look! Do you see it?” she whispered, barely able to contain herself. “Is it not the cutest thing you’ve ever seen? It’s better than any book…”Shadow, still frozen in her grasp, didn’t respond at first. His breath came in quiet, steady little puffs against her sleeve, his body warm and still against hers.  
   “Mar… Marrr…?”
 The sound was small, barely more than a murmur, but Maria could hear the waver in it. She pulled him just a little closer, her fingers smoothing down the spiky quills at the back of his head.“It’s okay,” she whispered, as much to him as to the Flicky. “See? It’s watching us too.”Fully awake now, Shadow pressed both hands against the glass, his tiny palms spreading flat against the smooth surface. His quills bristled slightly, but he didn’t move, his breath shallow as he stared through the barrier.On the other side, the Flicky stared back from its perch.Neither moved. Neither blinked.A hush settled over them, so profound that even the ever-present hum of the ARK’s systems seemed distant, swallowed by the moment. Gerald remained silent, watching with careful fascination. Maria, contrary to her elation, hesitated. Shadow had gone so still, so  tense,  that a flicker of doubt crept into her chest. Was this too much? One hand curled into the fabric of a sky blue dress, teeth gnawing Maria’s lip as she studied the hedgehog in her arms. His well-being was never worth the risk of anything else. If this frightened him, if it overwhelmed him… A sudden chirp cut through her thoughts, high and clear. Maria startled, her head jerking upward just in time to see the Flicky’s wings give a tiny, eager flutter. Its talons shifted against the branch, weight rocking forward ever so slightly. And for the briefest, most fleeting of moments… It almost seemed to smile. A thrill shot through Maria’s chest, her heart skipping a beat.“It  likes  you, Shadow!” She breathed, hardly able to contain herself. Her hands clutched at her dress as she bounced on her heels, giddy. The fabric swayed with each movement, mirroring the bubbling excitement she could barely contain.She turned her attention back to Shadow, eyes shining.“I… I think you should say hi back, right?”
  
  
… An infant, no matter how deliberately designed, was still an infant.Even with Maria’s gentle influence, Shadow’s patience had limits, it seemed.His small, clawed fingers flexed against the glass, his grip tightening as his quills gave an irritated bristle. A moment later, he let out a short, breathy grunt and delivered a half-hearted kick to the surface with his bare foot. The impact was weak, unimpressive, but his displeasure was undeniable. It was punctuated by what had to be the flattest, most deadpan  growl  a baby had ever managed – low, scratchy, and entirely unamused.Maria gasped, scandalized. “Shadow!  That’s  rude!” The Flicky blinked at him, utterly unfazed. Then, with an inquisitive tilt of its tiny head, it let out another cheerful chirp, as if entirely willing to give him a second chance. … Shadow smacked a palm against the glass as forcefully as his tiny frame allowed, the impact reverberating dully through the enclosure. He let out a grumbling babble, flat, half-hearted, and carrying all the enthusiasm of someone who had just been dragged out of bed for something utterly  trivial. The Flicky chirped again, tilting its head in the opposite direction.Maria’s breath caught, perplexed. “I… they’re talking? They must be, right, Grandfather?” Her voice was hushed with wonder, her wide eyes darting between the bird and her brother.Gerald crossed his arms, rubbing his chin in thought.“So it would seem…” The man murmured, watching the strange interaction unfold before him. “Mobians have long claimed that Flickies can convey emotions, perhaps even their very thoughts, to them. Communication beyond language, far surpassing humanity’s understanding of body language… So it truly is instinctual, then…”There was something oddly begrudging about the exchange. Shadow, clearly put off by the tiny creature, had the air of someone indulging Maria’s excitement solely because he liked her, not because he wanted to be here. His reactions weren’t born of instinctive recognition or kinship; rather, they were mimicked behaviors from the humans around him – observed, processed, and regurgitated in the flattest way possible. The Flicky, on the other hand, was genuinely curious. It chirped in short, questioning bursts, shifting its weight between its tiny talons, its feathers ruffling slightly as it tried to make sense of the small hedgehog behind the glass.On Earth, Flickies flocked to Mobian children like moths to a flame. In some societies, they even played an active role in child-rearing, their presence so deeply ingrained in tradition that it almost seemed instinctual. Gerald had read countless accounts of this phenomenon – how young Mobians were drawn to the creatures just as much as the creatures were drawn to them, how the two species formed a near-symbiotic bond from infancy. But never had he encountered a case where a child  rejected that bond outright. Shadow was proving to be an anomaly. Maria, captivated, loosened her hold just slightly, lowering him a bit as she studied the tiny bird with fascination. “Ooh… How can we ask it to come closer…?”Shadow, utterly unmoved by the moment, flattened his ears against his skull. His patience, already razor-thin, was nearing its limit. His small hands clenched at the glass, his quills standing on end before, with great deliberation, he reared back one foot and kicked once more.The result was a useless thud, barely a tremor against the glass, accomplishing nothing but making Maria tighten her grip in reflex. The supposed significance of the moment was entirely lost on him. Shadow let out an agitated babble, his frustration mounting. His tiny nose scrunched, his breath hitching…And then, with a sharp, high-pitched squeak… He sneezed. A sharp, sudden sound, high-pitched and forceful, rattled through Shadow’s tiny frame. His ears flopped forward, his limbs tensed, and for a fleeting moment, his quills puffed out slightly before settling back immediately. Maria barely had time to giggle before the Flicky reacted.A blur of motion, the flutter of wings… in a single movement, the bird landed on the ground before them with nary a sound. It wasted no time, hopping forward in quick, deliberate bursts, pausing only a few feet away. Its bright eyes flickered with intent curiosity, its small head tilting as it let out a string of soft, eager chirps.“Aww! It’s checking to make sure you’re okay!” Maria whispered, carefully adjusting her hold on Shadow as she smiled down at the tiny bird. It regarded her warily, glancing between her and the hedgehog pointedly. “You’re doing great, Shadow! You’re doing so much to make it feel comfortable…”Shadow, however, didn’t seem to share her enthusiasm. He squirmed in her grasp, his expression pinching into something akin to bewilderment, ears twitching as though he wasn’t entirely convinced that this was, in fact, a good thing.The Flicky hesitated only for a breath before continuing forward, inching closer with each small bounce. It was still nervous, its head twitching in a myriad of directions, sharp little eyes darting at the two humans looming behind Shadow, but curiosity had already won out over caution. Had there been no barrier between them, it would have been close enough to touch when it finally ceased its movements.With one last brief glance at Maria, the Flicky peered fully at Shadow with a chirp. It blinked rapidly, its gaze settling on one of his fisted hands still pressed against the glass. … Then… gently, it  tapped  its beak against the exact spot where Shadow’s tiny fingers lay. A soft tink rang out in the stillness. Shadow inhaled sharply as he flinched away in surprise, his muscles coiling tight as his pupils dilated. He and the Flicky were roughly the same size, but… up close, the Flicky felt  much too big.  For the first time since he entered this place, a flicker of doubt soured his face.Maria, feeling the tension ripple through his little frame, pressed her nose gently against his quills, grinning against the soft bristles. “It’s okay, Shadow… I think it just wanted to make you smile… I won’t let it hurt you, I promise…”  “Marmar…” The nickname formed without thought, eyes practically bulging as he stared at the bird stiffly. The Flicky in turn chirped once more, tapping its beak against the glass in a rhythm. Coaxing so gently, its gold eyes sparkled at Shadow openly. It sensed his trepidation, and this was its attempt to put the hedgehog at ease…Shadow audibly swallowed. For a long moment, he remained still, his breathing the only movement Maria could feel… After a slow, contemplative pause that went well beyond the five allotted minutes, he lifted his other hand, small fingers splaying against the cold surface of the glass.The Flicky didn’t retreat. It chirped once more, tilting its head with that same bright-eyed curiosity before tapping its beak once more – this time, directly in the center of Shadow’s palm. … Maria blinked at the tiny, garbled sound that left Shadow’s lips. Not quite a babble, not quite a coo. Just a quiet, startled noise, like something dawned on him for the first time right then and there. His ears flicked forward, his posture subtly shifting in Maria’s arms to press both hands onto the glass.“Grandfather,” she whispered, barely able to contain herself. “Grandfather, look! I think Shadow  likes  it too!”Gerald chuckled under his breath, keeping his voice low as to not disturb the moment. “So it seems…”The Flicky, a cheeky expression growing on its face, hopped an inch to its right, away from Shadow’s palm. Shadow, in turn, shifted with it unconsciously, Maria carefully balancing the distracted infant with a giggle. Gone was the stubborn reluctance, the irritation, the exaggerated sighs. In their place was something softer. Something almost…  reverent  as Shadow followed its movements. He place a hand near the Flicky’s head, fingers twitching as it chirped again in response… ... At that moment, Shadow made a sound, one entirely unexpected. A small, warbling noise, somewhere between a coo and a  chirp  of his own  ,  mimicking the Flicky’s tone with  startling accuracy. The response was instant. The Flicky fluffed its feathers, trilled in delight, and hopped in place as if  celebrating  his effort. Its wings fluttered, tiny talons digging into the dirt as it let out an eager series of tweets. Shadow made another startled sound before  laughing  in his baby-like fashion  ,  clapping his hands together quickly. Maria gasped, eyes widening in delight. Gerald ran a hand through his mustache as pride fluttered in his chest. 
   “Remarkable… Absolutely remarkable…”
 The weight of what he was witnessing settling deep in his heart. He murmured to himself, more a breath than a voice, his aged hands lowering to clasp behind his back.Shadow, his creation, his life’s work, the Ultimate Lifeform, was able to assimilate into the natural bond between Flickies and Mobians perfectly. The bird knew no better, tweeting joyfully as it hopped back and forth between where Shadow’s palms now pressed, the hedgehog smacking the glass as more laughs escaped him. Such a feat meant Gerald had  made  Shadow perfectly. If he could trick creatures build from instinct, those that should hypothetically know if Shadow were artificial or not, then… perhaps a normal life could one day be in store for him… If he so chose it. It left a heartwarming sense of ease in his chest. Maria sighed wistfully suddenly, pressing her cheek against the back of Shadow’s soft quills as she continued to hold him steadily, her voice soft with wonder as she kept her eyes trained on the Flicky. “Shadow loves it… I wish we could keep it…” The words, though spoken with innocent longing, twisted something deep in Gerald’s chest, squelching any pride that had threatened to blossom. His hands lowered to his sides. 
   ‘Oh, my dear girl…’ 
 Maria had never asked for much. She was bright and full of love, yet life had taken so much from her in so short a time. The ARK was her whole world – a fake one of white, colorless walls, cold, unforgiving laboratories, and endless, untouchable stars. Where laughter was often hushed so as not to disturb those working, and play was a fleeting luxury due to her illness. She had so little.  Too little.  And yet… she had already accepted this truth with the grace only a child could muster.The man was too stunned to comfort her, and he was still too stunned as she continued, her voice tinged with melancholy. “...I know that would be cruel,” she admitted to herself with a shudder, lifting one hand to brush through Shadow’s quills gently, the hedgehog paying her no mind. “It’d be miserable, all cooped up in here… So we should make sure it knows it’s only here to visit, and that it will be home soon!” She shot a wide smile over her shoulder, directly at her grandfather.  … Gerald swallowed past the lump in his throat, forcing a smile that ached at the edges. “That… is a wonderful idea, Maria.”Oblivious to his turmoil, her face lit up with determination, turning back to look at Shadow and the Flicky once more. The bird was currently rotating its head around in random directions, seemingly amused at the way the hedgehog tracked the movement. “I have to ask the kitchen staff if we have spare food… Maybe it’d like a Triangle Fruit? Oh, we’ll read to it, we’ll make it trinkets to take back home… Shadow, you’ll help, right? You’re always so helpful when I make bracelets!” The hybrid gurgled, too enraptured to understand her words as he continued to play. So much for a nap… … Gerald, much to his aching heart, realized that Maria had recognized something crucial.  
  Freedom… was something precious.
 And he realized… that she was still so eager to give, despite everything.  … This brilliant, wonderful girl… growing up in a cage of  his  own making.  “...Ohmygosh, how could I forget my camera! Grandfather, can you hold Shadow for a few minutes? I’ll be right back!”Before Gerald could respond, Maria was already shoving the small, squirming hedgehog into his arms, his weight settling against the old man’s chest with a familiar warmth.“Hm…?” Gerald let out a gruff noise of surprise as Shadow let out an equally confused babble, blinking wide-eyed at the abrupt separation from his newfound feathered companion. By the time either of them had fully registered what had happened, Maria was already out of sight, her hurried footsteps echoing down the hall toward the entrance they came in through.Gerald sighed, adjusting his hold on the infant as he glanced down at him. Blue eyes, hidden behind the dark tint of his glasses, met drowsy red ones, noting how they fluttered slightly under the harsh glow of the overhead lights. A thin trail of drool glistened on the child’s chin, catching the light as it dripped toward his fluff-lined chest.The weight of him always seemed to bring Gerald back to reality, reminding him of his sons, and then later his grandchildren when they had been younger... Such simpler times… “Oh-hoh,  don’t give me that look,” he chuckled, shifting Shadow in his arms as he wiped his chin with the sleeve of his coat. The hedgehog grumbled in protest, wriggling against his grip, small limbs tensing with impatience.“You  do  realize I made you, don’t you?” Gerald mused, watching the baby’s brow furrow in what almost looked like deep thought. “It would serve you well to be happier to see me sometimes.”Shadow stared at him, blinking slowly. Then, with sudden determination, he squirmed began anew, reaching both tiny hands toward Gerald’s face with clear intent. His black tail waggled behind him, ears perked with unwavering focus as he attempted to snag onto the professor’s mustache.Gerald let out a tired huff, tilting his chin just out of reach. “What am I going to do with you…?” From the doorway, Maria’s voice called back to them, slightly breathless as she wobbled on uneven steps. “See if you can keep the Flicky there! I don’t want to miss this photo!”“Alright, be careful…” Gerald nodded absently, though a brief shadow flickered across his expression as he turned his focus back to the small visitor in the glass enclosure. A soft, uncertain chirp met his ears. The Flicky had not moved from its perch. Its tiny body remained tense, feathers puffed in clear hesitation as its sharp gaze flickered between the old man and the infant in his arms. There was no mistaking the unease in its posture – the way its talons dug into the dirt, the wary twitch of its feathered tail.“Hmm…” Gerald murmured as he knelt carefully, lowering himself to the bird’s eye level while keeping Shadow securely cradled in the crook of his arm. He was mindful of the tiny fingers that still grasped eagerly in the direction of his facial hair.“There, there…” he murmured gently, his voice low, steady. “I  made  this one – I would bring him no harm, so please do not worry.”The Flicky did not relax.Gerald studied it closely, the lines of his face softening. Of course it was afraid. The circumstances of its arrival had not been ideal. He and his colleagues had been quick,  too quick,  to act when it was brought in, moving with a level of precision and urgency that, to a fragile little thing like this, must have been terrifying…“…The other scientists and I must have frightened you when you arrived,” he admitted, his voice quiet and thoughtful. “I assure you, it was only because of my granddaughter’s condition. If you were to get too close, you could make her  very  sick… We only wanted to prevent that, that’s all. None of us mean you any harm. Soon enough, you’ll be back in your natural habitat, where you belong.” … Gerald wasn’t sure if his words had been understood. Flickies were naturally wary of humans, and he had no way of knowing whether that peculiar, unspoken communication between Mobians extended to his tone, his intent.Yet… something in the bird’s demeanor gave him pause. Hesitation flickered across its tiny face. Its wide, golden eyes seemed contemplative, an odd expression for a creature so instinct-driven. Gerald dared to think, if only for a moment, that a bridge had been formed between them, however tenuous. The Flicky tilted its head, feathers fluffing slightly before releasing a series of soft, rhythmic chirps. Its gaze shifted, settling back on Shadow… … Gerald felt it before he saw it – the stillness in his arms. Shadow, who had moments ago been wriggling with restless intent, had gone completely motionless. The tiny claws that had been grasping at his coat now rested limply against the fabric, kneading it in slow, idle presses. His small chest rose and fell in measured, deliberate breaths.And his eyes, those deep,  unnatural  crimson eyes, remained fixed on the Flicky.There was no flicker of childish curiosity. No playful gleam.Just… focus. Unwavering. Glossy, round pupils dilated wide, reflecting gold in red like a perfect mirror. … Shadow  laughed.  It was quiet. Uneven. Offbeat. The sound was devoid of the breathless purity of a child’s amusement. It was hollow, too subdued, too deliberate. An imitation of laughter rather than the real thing, like the chirp he had mimicked minutes prior.Gerald blinked down at the child, momentarily thrown by the shift in tone. Before he could fully process it, Shadow’s lips twitched. The movement was a slow pulling at the corners of his tiny mouth in a sluggish, dragging motion. A grin. Barely-there, yet just enough to reveal the premature fangs lining his gums – too big for him at this stage, protruding slightly, a sharpness ill-suited for infancy. … A sudden jerk.Shadow twisted in his grasp with a startling burst of energy, sitting upright in Gerald’s hands. His small arms shot forward, palms slamming against the glass with two sharp, echoing  smacks  that caused both the human and the Flicky to flinch in surprise  .  A sound.A low, curdling scrape. Shadow’s claws pressed into the glass, dragging downward in slow, uneven paths. The movements bore none of the eager, playful energy from before. No rapid taps, no excited slaps – just a slow, idle repetition, fingers tracing faint, irregular lines down the surface. Each whisper of friction against the glass was soft yet deliberate, a quiet disruption in the sterile air.The Flicky’s eyes widened.Its body tensed, feathers puffing involuntarily as its talons shifted against the dirt. The initial flicker of curiosity had vanished, replaced by something far warier. Its golden gaze locked onto the infant hedgehog, its wings instinctively pressing tight against its body as it shrank back, step by cautious step.Gerald, half-aware of the tension that had settled into the space, maintained a measured calm.“Still… excited, are we, Shadow?” The man murmured lowly, voice carrying the practiced warmth of someone carefully managing an unpredictable situation. He raised a hand, intending to grasp one of the hedgehog’s small wrists, gently steering him away from the glass. Even as he spoke, he observed. Noted. Every minute reaction – the barely perceptible twitches of the Flicky’s muscles, the way its pupils shrank, the sharpness of its shallow breaths. “...Though, you’re scaring your new friend…” Gerald continued, fingers brushing against Shadow’s wrist. “You should play nice–” Shadow didn’t acknowledge him. His claws pressed harder against the barrier, movements growing more erratic, more forceful. The scratching turned sharper, each scrape carving out a jagged, breathless rhythm in the fragile silence. The Flicky shifted again, wings trembling now, its wide, frightened gaze locked onto the child with an expression that teetered between confusion and something more primal. 
   “Shadow.”
 The warning edge in Gerald’s voice cut through the air as he tightened his grip around one of the hedgehog’s small wrists, halting its movement. “That’s enough.” His tone was firm now, the measured patience beginning to wane. “You know you’re not supposed to do that.”Shadow didn’t respond.His free hand clenched against the glass, claws pressing deeper, dragging with renewed insistence. The sound grew harsher, the once faint scratches evolving into a slow, pained  groan  as the surface resisted his efforts. His tiny body quivered, muscles wound tight with an unfamiliar tension. His breathing came in shallow, irregular pants, drool beginning to gather at the corners of his mouth. Gerald sputtered, his grip tightening in shock and growing irritation.  Where had this come from?  What  was  this? … A sound. A new sound. 
   An old sound. 
 It made the man freeze, blood running cold.. 
   Click. Click. Click. 
 The rhythmic noise emerged from deep within Shadow’s throat. Not a hiccup. Not a coo. Not a childish babble. Gerald’s felt like he couldn’t breathe, his grip on Shadow’s wrist faltered as his blue eyes widened behind the tinted glass of his lenses.Countless machines, countless specimen, countless experiments… All made sounds. All offered the unexpected, some haunting him in the dead of night… But this? This was the one… horrible, disgustingly familiar sound that struck him apart like he’d been  shot.  “Shadow,  enough!”  Gerald shouted, his tone more insistent as he stood up abruptly, finally pulling he and Shadow away from the glass. As quickly as his hands could muster, he turned Shadow into them, but the hedgehog remained fixated on the Flicky, head turning to stare at it with that wide grin. Drool dripped freely now, a thin line trailing down his chin, unnoticed by the child whose attention remained on the one thing that mattered to him in this moment. The clicking grew louder. The sound reverberated not only through air, but through the bones of those who heard its alien edge. Fear, so primal, blossomed in the gut of those who heard it, and Gerald recalled the first time he heard it with sudden clarity. So primal was his dread that he wished to never be near its source again…He wasn’t alone in this thought process this time. The Flicky, now far too disturbed, and with a flap of tiny wings it retreated away into the underbrush, disappearing out of sight from the baby that had spooked it. With the bird suddenly gone, the baby’s breathing suddenly became shallow. Shadow blinked, turning his head from side to side as if searching for it, but the action proved futile. The clicking continued, but gradually they grew slower, their clock-like beat losing itself as he looked. The ominous countdown to the unknown outcome had been derailed… … And just like that, it stopped. The drool slowed, the quivering stilled. That grin full of teeth withdrew, turning into a blank mask… … ... ... … … It was quiet. … … ... ... … 
   “…Mar… Mar…?” 
 Shadow blinked up at his creator, rapid and unfocused, as if roused from a deep sleep. His small hands trembled as he raised them, rubbing clumsily at his soaked muzzle. His breath hitched, unsteady, pupils wide and glassy with disorientation. He looked… confused. Awake. The unnatural tension in his tiny body seemed to drain, his muscles slackening in the warmth of Gerald’s arms. For a fleeting moment, the man allowed himself to believe it was over. That the awful, twisting presence, the  wrongness  that had wrapped around the child, had receded. Had  left him. … 
   “…M…M-Mar…” 
 A choked, shuddering sob – hoarse, raw, something broken. The kind of sound that came from deep within the ribs, something clawing its way free with a desperation too great to be contained. Shadow  shook. His tiny fingers curled into fists, the edges of his claws catching against the fabric of Gerald’s coat as he grasped at him, clutching  desperately  – as if terrified of slipping away. A wail erupted from him, forceful and guttural, far too much for his small frame. It rattled through his chest, through Gerald’s bones, reverberating with something deeper than mere infant distress. Grief. Gerald knew he should comfort him. His habits as both a father and grandfather would never leave him… But his body remained still. Shadow’s behavior was so far removed from the delicate child he behaved as since he took his first breath, and the source of the sudden shift in behavior was lost to him. His mind raced for a solution, a preemptive measure to ensure this wouldn’t happen again. … 
   Had he been wrong? Was Shadow not… not the outlier of his…? 
 
   … 
 The door slid open. Maria. It took only a few moments for her to appear at her side, her camera dangling from the strap around her neck as she quickly put her hands on the wailing infant.“You poor thing! Grandfather, what happened?! I was only gone for five minutes…!”Too stunned to speak, the man allowed her to take the infant from his arms without a single ounce of protest. The moment she held him, Shadow latched onto her greedily, his sobs growing louder as he buried his face into her shoulder and hair, trembling all the while. What could Gerald possibly say? Maria was so innocent, so delicate… So unaware of the horrors her grandfather had agreed to in order to keep her alive.Maria glanced at the glass, eyes widening when she took in the long, deliberate streaks that only something sharp could muster. Holding Shadow with one hand, she lifted the other to trace them, lips pursed in deep thought as she did so. “Did… Did Shadow do this…?” The old man’s heart thudded in his chest.  “...It’s… It’s nothing to worry about, Maria.”  Breath shaking, the man turned to the girl with a face as still as stone, hands folding to fists at his side. “The… The bird simply flew off after you left, and… Well, Shadow threw one of his tantrums. It was much worse than the ones we’ve seen, so I was taken aback. I apologize… I suppose he’s grown…  fond  of the Flicky and didn’t know how to handle it leaving… Come, let’s go…” … Maria’s face flickered with doubt as she lowered her hand from the glass, resting it on the small of the sobbing infant’s back. “... Ah… I’m sorry I left, then… Shhhh, it’s okay, Shadow… It’s okay…”  —̸̘̞̼̯̋̓̃̅̎̀͒̐̔̇̾̐͂̀͊͝  Settled in the warmth of her bedroom, Maria hummed to herself softly as the gentle scratch of crayon against paper filled the familiar space. The floor was a colorful mess – pillows stacked haphazardly, blankets crumpled from where she and Shadow had burrowed into them earlier, an array of toys scattered about like forgotten treasures in the midst of chaos. Sheets of paper lay sprawled around her legs from where she sat on the floor, filled with shaky yet earnest drawings, each one capturing many different things, but mostly the people she loved most.She giggled as she worked on her latest masterpiece, adding the final touches of color to the picture. It was of herself, her grandfather, Shadow, of course… and the Flicky. Her hands stilled for a moment after filling in the last of its blue, her smile fading ever so slightly as she traced its form with her eyes. It’s been a few days since they first went to visit it, and they haven’t gone back since. Whenever the topic arose around her grandfather, he would grow silent and shake his head that he had no time to do so. With Shadow, the infant had grown dodgy, echoing his creator in his quiet refusal as he pretended to be distracted by other things… But now, staring at the image in her hands, a pang of longing settled deep into her heart.The way the Flicky had chirped, tilting its head from side to side to listen to every sound Shadow made. The way its feathers fluffed up when it was curious, unable to sit still from excitement… It had such a brief presence in their lives, only here for a week at most, and yet she felt an emptiness in her chest. That small taste of the normal life on Earth… How many kids her age got to see Flickies fly by, or scurry along the ground those days…? A soft purring pulled her from her thoughts, and she lowered her paper to check on its source.Shadow laid sprawled on his back beside her, nestled between blankets and toys with his limbs roeaching about to prush against soft surfaces. A stuffed rat remained trapped between his sharp teeth, his fangs pressing into the fabric with just enough pressure to keep it secure without tearing. His tail flicked lazily across the blankets, swishing back in forth in slow, deliberate motions. Every few moments he’d give the rat in his jaws a small, experimental squeezes, as if testing its durability, as his crimson eyes remained glued to the ceiling, lost in sleepy thoughts. He tended to keep himself busy when she drew, and right now, he seemed like the most comfortable hedgehog ever, head swimming with thoughts unknown…Maria watched him, her expression softening as she full dropped the paper to the ground in front of her, turning her head to rest her chin against her fist. He looked so peaceful, not at all like the wailing child that had clung to her days prior. The image of him sobbing so uncontrollably, so unlike any other meltdown he’s had lingered in the edges of her mind… As did the scratches on the glass. Right now, however, he remained just her Shadow again. Small, sweet, and playful… … It… wasn’t enough to make the longing fade.  One blue crayon slipped through her shaking fingers as she sighed, eyes growing lidded as she considered the hedgehog next to her. She fully expected her next words to be ignored, but it was worth a shot… “Shadow… do you think the Flicky misses us?” … The purring stopped. Shadow blinked, his jaw growing slack as he turned his head towards her, his ears twitching. A questioning look. He hadn’t learned to talk yet, still only muttering half her name to himself, but his body language was getting more and more impressive. Only a few days, and he seemed more focused than he had the week prior…Maria swallowed the lump in her throat before continuing. “I mean… I know I miss it. I know it didn’t ge to really know us, but…” She glanced down at her drawing, tracing the Flicky with the tip of her finger as she sighed wistfully. “We never ever got to say goodbye that day… It’s just rude…”Shadow released the rat toy in his mouth with a soft plop, his expression growing unreadable as his wagging tail went slack. “Maybe…” Maria couldn’t stop the hopeful smile that was claiming her lips, glancing up at Shadow with a glimmer in her eyes. A Mobian and a Flicky, reunited again… How she wanted that to be real… “Maybe we could visit it again…?”The Ultimate Lifeform stared at her, fingers fidgeting with the rat on his chest. Then, slowly, he turned onto his side, facing her, curling in on himself with a huff. Red locked onto the drawing of her interest, but he said nothing. No coos, no whines. Maria instinctively reached forward to run her hand along his head, brushing it through soft quills. “Shadow…?” She prompted gently, tilting her head to the side. Shadow huffed once more, leaning into her pets as his mouth opened slightly. It looked like he wanted to say something, but didn’t know the words. Instead, after a few moments, he simply grunted, brow furrowing as he looked up at her. It wasn’t a sound of protest, nor was it of agreement.It was just… uncertain. “...Do you not want to?” Maria asked him, raising an eyebrow. This was a more neutral response than what she’s received lately. Shadow just kept looking at her, his face scrunching up into a pout. Maria’s touch lingered within striped quills for a moment longer before pulling away slowly, glancing at the pile of scattered books to her left. The room was almost always like this, much to her grandfather’s disdain – the cozy type of disorginization, filled with the remnants of past games and stories left behind halfway through. She remembered where everything was, and that comfort allowed an idea to spark in her mind. If Shadow couldn’t make a decision, she’s find another way to convince him. Shifting onto her knees, the girl shuffled towards the pile, flipping past well-loved pages and colorful covers until she found the one she was looking for. She gasped in delight, pulling it free and holding it up triumphantly.“Ah-hah! Here it is! Shadow, you’ll love this one!” Shadow batted his eyes at her as he observed her enthusiasm, remaining curled onto his side as his tail gave a single, questioning flick. Maria settled back onto the blankets beside him, moving to cradle both him and the book on her lap with a smile. Its cover was bright and cheerful, depicting a wolf Mobian standing proudly with a yellow Flicky perched on their shoulder. Bold, gold letters spelled out the title across the top in a languish design:  Feathers and Whiskers. “I really liked this one when I was a little younger, and I haven’t had the chance to read it to you in full,” Maria spoke excitedly as she turned to the first page. “It’s part one of a series. A Mobian and a Flicky go on all sorts of adventures together, and this is how they met. They end up being best friends… I know you’ve looked through the pictures before, but I want to read you some of it. Maybe it’ll help you see how special a Flicky is!”The hedgehog didn’t react fully at first, simply glancing between her eager expression and the page open on her lap. He moved the rat to hug it against his chest, leaning against her side as he looked into the book curiously. Maria took this as an invitation to start, and so, with a dramatic ahem, she began reading aloud, her voice carrying a sing-song quality as she slipped into storytelling… … “Once upon a time, in a forest full of danger, a lonely traveler found themselves lost in the thickest part of the wood. This traveler, known as Whiskers, was swift as the wind and as clever as a fox, always chasing the next great adventure. But no matter how far they ran, how high they climbed, or how many new lands they discovered, they were always  alone. Whiskers told themselves they preferred it that way – after all, no one could keep up with them. Others were too slow, too timid, too quick to turn back when the path became uncertain. They were brave, and they felt they could take on any challenge that came their way, no matter if they were alone…This forest was different. It whispered in the wind, twisted its roots to alter the path when they weren’t looking, shifting the trees so that every step felt unfamiliar. It was  alive,  this forest, and it did not take kindly to those who wandered within it alone. No matter which way Whiskers turned, every path wound back into the same endless maze of towering trees and tangled underbrush. The deeper they went, the thicker the fog became, creeping along the ground like ghostly fingers, curling around their ankles, whispering at their ears. The forest was watching, waiting… and it would not let them leave. It had one goal in mind, and it was truly dangerous…” Shadow shivered, tightening his hold on the toy in his arms as his eyes widened. Maria suppressed her giggles before continuing, using her free hand to pet him soothingly. “Suddenly, every skill Whiskers had honed over the years meant nothing. What good was speed when the path before you would make you more and more lost? What good was power when the roots they pulled would simply grow again? There was nothing to gain when they were alone like this. Sad, Whiskers called out for help, but the only companion was the silence they were used to…Just as Whiskers was about to lose hope, slumping against the roots of an ancient tree with a tear in their eye… A sound broke that terrible quiet. It was a bright, cheerful chirp, like a tiny bell that rang through the gloom of despair. Whiskers looked skyward, eyes widening at the sight…A Flicky, no bigger than a pinecone, fluttered down from the branches that belonged to that ancient tree, its golden feathers glowing faintly in the dim light. It tilted its head at Whiskers, eyes shining with kindness, and let out another chirp as it flapped its wings.‘Follow me!’ it seemed to say.Whiskers felt rooted on the spot. The Flicky was frail, certainly no match for the dangers of the enchanted forest… And yet, there was something fearless in the way it flapped its wings, looking ahead toward an unknown path happily.With a deep breath and nothing left to lose, Whiskers used the last of their strength to follow…And the Flicky, without an ounce of hesitation, led the way…Despite being so different, Whiskers understood one thing – the Flicky only wanted to help. And so, together, they braved the unknown, step by step, wing by wing…” Maria stole a glance at Shadow, gauging his reaction. The hedgehog was completely enthralled, cooing and touching the illustrations of the pair in the book, ears fully perked to catch every syllable. Encouraged, the girl continued, flipping to the newest page that depicted the Flicky leading the Mobian through the winding path, dodging brambles and hopping over dangerous streams.Weaving the story with warmth, Maria’s voice dipped into excitement as she described their daring adventure – they faced strong winds, climbed rocky cliffs, braved the whispers of the forest. They remained steadfast, side by side, encouraging one another when they didn’t feel brave. At some point, Shadow had climbed fully onto her lap, cooing to himself with each new picture, pointing at the character’s whenever Maria said their names. She rested her chin on his head, smiling as they neared the end of the story. “--And when they reached the ends of the forest, standing at the very edge of the world, the Flicky spread its wings wide, chirping in triumph! Whiskers laughed, exhausted yet happy, and mirrored the little bird, throwing their arms open as though to hug the endless sky. Together, their hearts soared, light as the wind, free as the air! It was all possible because they did it…  together!”   With a finality, she closed the book softly, giggling at Shadow’s disappointed whine that it was over. The hedgehog patted the book absentmindedly before turning to look up at her with a smile, tail wagging tepidly behind him. “See, Shadow?” She murmured, watching as he ran his bare hands along the books back cover gently. “The Flicky wasn’t scary, it was kind. It wanted to help, because that’s what Flickies do with Mobians. And the traveler? They were  happier  with a friend.  Ă̶̟̰͈͕̈̎̚n̷̙̗̏̈̕y̷̨̅t̸͓̹̰̠̳̋h̴̟͓̃̋į̷̡̢̫͔̾͗̕̚͝ṅ̴͖͉̪̠g̸̜͛̑̀̋ ̸̥̆̓͘̕i̴̜̭͎̺̔̈̈́͌͜ş̸̤͙͙̂̒͘ ̸̝͉̘͉̜̌̍͂͠b̷͚̲̼̝̀̎̋̊͝è̶̮͎t̸̼̀͂̃̈̕ț̸̳̰̗̓͗ͅẽ̶̬̰̤̈ͅṛ̴̽̈́̀̾ ̵̳͌t̴̪̰͍͚̉̓͗͂ͅh̵͔̪͇̙͌ả̴̹n̴̹̎ ̷̣̩̮͂͝b̸͖͙̥͔̝͗̎̍e̶͎̜̪̎̌̅ĭ̴̼̣ņ̴͕̿̈̉̋g̵̨͉̘̎̆̎̂ͅ ̶̮͙̻̩̥̀̀ȃ̸̧̺͍͖̮̓l̶̰̓̆͑o̷̖͑̅̋́n̴̗̒̄͑̕ę̵̩̗͉̪͆̈̈́̂͝,̴̨̨̨͕̌͊  after all.” Shadow’s expression grew contemplative again, his crimson irises flickering between her face and the book. His lips parted, whatever words he couldn’t form melting into a faint, unintelligible whisper. Maria said nothing at first, simply watching him, her expression soft with understanding. She held the book out to him openly, allowing him to explore it at his own pace, turning to random points within it to reassess what he had seen. Her long blonde hair cascaded over her shoulders, pooling around them like golden threads as she tilted her head to the side. … “...I think it would be  really  good for you to see the Flicky again,” Maria started once more, insistent, the light above illuminating her hair into a golden halo. “There aren’t any Mobians on the ARK. Stories like this are the closest thing you’ll have, Shadow. Stories help us understand the people and things we might…  never  get to meet.”She swallowed, her eyes flicking down to the page Shadow had opened to. The little bird was leading the traveler forward, toward some great unknown. … No longer was Shadow looking at the pages. Instead, the infant returned his eyes to her, watching her closely. With the softest sigh, Maria reached out and tapped the Flicky character with her finger. “It’s important that we do things like this, even if we don’t want to. You might be sad one day that you didn’t get to see the Flicky again… It’s better to do things instead of regretting it later, like grandpa says…”Her voice wavered, barely a breath above silence, as she quickly rubbed at her eyes. She forced a smile, but it didn’t quite reach. “The world isn’t so scary if you have someone with you. And here we are, with a real Flicky in a cage… and it’ll be alone for the rest of the month, just like Whiskers was in the book… It will be so  sad  without you, Shadow…” … Shadow didn’t quite understand everything she was saying, not entirely. Not in the way she had meant it all, deep down. But he was receptive to her sadness, the longing she couldn’t hide in her voice, and that was enough to make him reconsider his stance…The thought of seeing the Flicky again  scared  him, that much he knew. His creator’s face once they were alone had frightened him, and he didn’t know what he did to warrant it. But, if it was just the two of them going… His nose wrinkled pointedly.  He really didn’t want to… … But Shadow  adored  Maria.  … A deep purr rumbled from his chest, hesitant at first, but growing stronger as he lifted his arms toward her in silent request. Maria’s heart clenched. Relief, affection, and maybe some  guilt swelled inside her as she exhaled, pressing the book to her chest before leaning forward to lift him into her arms. — The enclosure offered no sound. Maria’s hand hovered near the glass, fingers just shy of touching as her breath fogged the surface. She stared into the foliage with quiet intensity, searching for the familiar glimmer of blue  among the leaves. Beside her, cradled in her other arm, Shadow did not look at the trees. His crimson eyes remained fixed on  her  , watching the way her brows pinched, the way her lips pressed together, the way she held herself so  still. His own small paw rested against the glass, mirroring hers, his claws  tapping lightly. It was a steady, patient attempt – soft beats against the surface, a call awaiting an answer.But no matter how long they lingered… No matter how many times they tried luring the Flicky with Shadow’s quiet sounds, his gentle knocks… No matter how long they stood in hopeful silence, waiting, willing… Nothing changed. The Flicky would not come. Maria bit her lip. A flicker of  something  crossed her face, a shadow of disappointment barely masked by the practiced gentleness of her expression. Shadow tensed in her arms, his quills trembling ever so slightly at the sight of it.“…Maybe it’s just shy today,” she uttered grimly, more to herself than to him. But the words carried no real certainty, faltering under the weight of the silence. Her hand finally pressed against the glass, the cold biting into her fingertips, grounding her. Her dark lashes lowered, shoulders easing with the quiet resolve of someone grasping at optimism with careful, delicate hands. “…Tomorrow,” she said, offering a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “We’ll try again tomorrow.”
  
  
… … … Tomorrow came. … … … Nothing. So they returned the next day. … … … And the next. … … … And the next. Every day, they returned to the enclosure. And every day, the Flicky remained hidden.Shadow would tap his tiny claws against the glass, tail swishing in restless anticipation. His taps started soft, patient. Then firmer. Insistent. But the bird never so much as chirped in response. Maria called out gently, then with coaxing warmth, then outright pleaded… but her voice, like Shadow’s taps, was met only with silence. A week had passed. Maria’s disappointment deepened, settling into something heavier, something that refused to be brushed aside. The glow of her smile dimmed, the lightness of her step grew sluggish. She no longer hummed when she colored in her books, her hands dragging the pencils with uncharacteristic slowness.When the fatigue took hold, when her vision blurred from the strain, she could no longer deny it. She was moved to the medical wing.The doctors didn’t argue. Gerald didn’t argue. There was no debate. Bedrest was necessary. Her immune system was too fragile to risk even the toll of  stress and disappointment.  … Shadow, as young as he was, did not understand sickness.But he understood when Maria was tired. He understood when she was happy, when she was sad. He understood the sound of her laughter, the warmth of her arms around him, the way she would press her cheek to his quills and whisper that everything would be okay, even when things didn’t make sense. Now, she was gone, where he could not visit her. Taken from him. No longer where she was  supposed to be.  … 
   That made him furious.
   …̶̶̶̧̡̡̧̡̨̡̡̨̧̨̧̨̛̲̲͚̬̥͙̫̗̠̩͚̤̫͚͚̗̬̲̜͉̻̺͇̞̝̘̬͈͎̲͎̮̠͈̙͕̘͎̭̟̟͙͇̘̠̪͉̮̩̩͔̜̼͖͉͕̱̼̤̗̬͓̬̹͎͉̣͕͔̘̱͈̫̘̳̳̱͕̜̪̟̆̍̾̀͂͐̾̽̍̌̽͐̅́͗̄̎͂̀̀̔̌͋͋̆͌̍̔̐̐̂͆̋̈́̆̑̆̎͆̋̇͒̇̈̏͒̽̉͒̃̉̊́͛͌̔̓͒̇̓̽̌̐̓̒̌́̌̆̆̓́͒̕͘͘̚̕̕̕̕͜͜͠͠…̸̶̷̡̢̢̢̨̨̧̧̛͙͖̞͓̮̙̝͍̮̤̤̟̺̹̯̙̝̱̪̼̳̟̖̗̱͉͕͙̬͓̝͚͍̖̳̘͖̦̭̲̤͙̖͕̩̜̬̞͉̯̺̞̭̗̭͍̝͕̦̭͕̠͔͎̰̝̙̖̱̜̩̩͚̐͊̔̀͗̒̐̀̈́͛̃͌̈́̊̿̑͒̑͌̐͐͐̎́͂̃̍̈́̈́̓̊͆̑̎͗̆̊̔́͑̌̾̿́̒͒̍̂͊̄͑̌̿̀͂̑͌̇̑̋͛̃̿͌̽̽̎̌͊̑͛̐̾̇̊̔͂̆̚̚̕̚̚͘̕̚͘̚͜͜͠͠͠͝͠͝͝͝͝ͅͅͅͅ…̸̴̷̨̨̡̨̡̧̧̢̢̧̛̛̛̛̛̛̛̦̱̳̝̥̦̤̰̦̥̞̣̬̜̥̟̱̦̻̪̱̭̯̖͙̰͇̙̬̥̯̞̪͚̫͓̫̝̪̻̦̹̜̭̠̻͖̜͎̠͔͚̻̙͉̥̲̠̥͈̠̼̰̬͖͉̘͍̪̖̰̖̲̰̮̰̬̠̗͇͇̠̣͚̘͇̟͙̮͈̰͇̤̬̩̠̟͖̈́̾̌͆̌̋̋̔̌͊̾͑̅̄̍͒͊̀̃̈̀́̍̆́͒̑̔̿̓͛̏͛̋̏̏̊̀̑̊͑̂̒̈́̈́̋̿̾̂̓͒͛̊́͗̽͂̈́͒̈́͂̌̎̌̈̑̄̆̏͌̀̋̽͑͋̿̽͂̒͗͌̆̑̅̊̽̀̋̅̾̒̓̒͂͑̾͑̎̐̿͒͛̓̏͆̈̌́̂̇̎̎͌͊̔̄̐̾̔͋̐̊̉̃̚͘̕͘̕̚͘̕̚̚̕̚̚̕̚͝͝͠͠͝͝͠͝͝ͅ…̷̶̸̧̢̧̨̧̢̢̛̛̛̞̬̱͚̼̫̺̼̤͎͚̭̰̙͎̘̪̫͖̜̬̤̳͚̯̖̮͈̟̬̙̭͍̻̜̦͚͔͉͓̯͎͚̝͓̗̘͎̝͉̫̗̘̩̰̰͎̥͉̝̖̳͓͔͉̱͙̦͔̺̤̻̯͋̏̂̀̑̃̒͌̓̽̈́͐́̎̋̓͆̑̾͒͒̅̂̏̔̿̇͐̽̽͂̒̿̽̅̉̔̓̅͐̈́̈́̉̒̾̄̌̉̏̎̆̄͂̿̽̉̈̍̋̃̈́͋̿̾͐̓̅̓́̒̔̂̐̈́̂̀̕͘̕̚̕̕͘͜͜͜͝͝͠͝͠ͅ…̶̷̢̧̢̡̨̛̛̪̞̝̝̙̦̫͍̖͖͇̳̰̮͈͈͈̜̫͍̹̘̜̖͉̫̘͖̞͓͈͔̲̟̰̰̥̣͇̝̱̥̩̼̻͗̉͒͑͌̅͂̃̈̏́͗́͛̄̓̑̎͑̏͋̒̐̿̊̌̌͑̏͒̀͒̆̎͗͊̚̕͘͘̕͘͜͜͜͜͠͠͠͠ͅ
  
  
 The kitchen.The overhead lights, flickering erratically between red and white, cast shifting shadows against the steel countertops and sterile white tiles. The ventilation system had stilled, mingling with the distant voices of frantic scientists and the alarm blaring overhead, a mere hum of discord. Even the usual, near-constant creaking of the ARK’s machinery seemed muted now, as if the station itself was holding its breath.Gerald stood at the entrance of the kitchen, his figure outlined sharply in the pulsing glow, his breath stuck between his throat and his chest. His ID badge was on the floor in front of him, the seemingly innocent object’s presence pressing down on his shoulders as he slowly lifted his gaze upward beyond it, his mind reeling.The Flicky had escaped, and thusly the station went on lockdown once more. The breach – one caused by someone who stole his ID card, his own status used against him – made his blood boil. But as soon as he stepped into the kitchen, believing he’d find the creature in the same place it had gone before, the cold air bit into his skin and replaced his fury with something worse.  He did not see the Flicky. 
  A hedgehog, however...? Much to his dismay, he did see that one...
 The child stood in the center of the room, his small frame cast in the shifting hues of blood and bone-white from above. His back was to Gerald, his tiny shoulders squared, feet planted in a way that suggested a new familiarity with balance – an ability the man had not once seen. There was only one conclusion. In the three weeks of Maria’s rest, where the hedgehog would sulk in silence in his creator’s laboratory, refusing to leave even when Gerald would go to rest in his quarters… He had been learning in secret.  Learning how to walk, how to move…And here he was, standing perfectly on what would have been two wobbly legs a month prior. He had grown quickly.The air was thick, heavy with a metallic tang of something Gerald was all too familiar with. His eyes trailed downward again to the floor on which the hedgehog stood, observing the way soft, downy blue feathers lingered on the tile, stark against the stale white. Some lay whole. Others crumpled and torn, their edges curled in on themselves as though gripped too tightly. Shadow’s hands were cupped, held close to his fluffy chest, ears locked forward on high alert. The quills on the back of his head twitched slightly, as if aware of being watched, but he made no move to turn.   “…Shadow,”  he called, his voice lower than he intended. The name felt thin in the air, a whisper swallowed by the oppressive quiet. The hybrid stilled. The red light overhead flashed again, bathing the room in a deep, pulsing glow. Shadow’s hands tightened around whatever he was holding.The feathers trembled at his feet. … 
   The clicking. 
 It didn’t sound like it was coming from Shadow. No, the noise seemed to manifest in the air itself, like a grind of shifting metal, a deliberate cadence meant to make the man’s teeth clench. Shadow turned. He pivoted on his heels in one slow, seamless motion, like he had practiced this before.  Like he had dont this a thousand times before.  Crimson locked onto the man that made them, unblinking. They gleamed under the flickering lights, reflecting them like marbles drowned in blood. His pupils, usually round and soft like a hedgehog’s should be, had shrunk into an almost feline quality. He said nothing. The clicking would not stop. It had no clear source, no clear direction. It continued to fill the room, vibrating the foundations of the space station, settling deep into bone and tissue. Gerald felt it lodge itself deep within his skull, each erratic click tightening the space between his ears as it were a vice. The presence was unbearable. It scratched at his thoughts, wormed its way into his skin, gnawed at the foundation of his soul. The Professor’s mouth parted – whether to reprimand, to demand, or to plead, he wasn’t sure… But nothing came out. When the lights flashed white again, he felt that he truly saw Shadow.The toddler stood small, no bigger than a two-year-old, but the way he held himself – shoulders slightly squared, head tilted just so – radiated something far beyond infancy. His fur was ruffled in places, tufts uneven and disturbed. Gerald’s stomach twisted as he took in the faint scuffs across Shadow’s muzzle, the tiny, raw marks scattered across his arms and face. The shape, the pattern – peck marks. Tiny but persistent, as if small beaks had fought to drive him away. The downy blue feathers at his feet stirred slightly as Shadow shifted his weight, a stray one sticking to his ankle. Shadow smiled. The expression was  too wide.  His lips curled back, revealing fangs that were still too large for his small mouth, crowding his gums in a way that should have looked ridiculous. But there was nothing childish about it. It was all teeth,  all hunger,  a grin stretched to its limits by something that did not yet understand the restraint of a real smile. His cheeks were flushed red.Small hands, cupping something so carefully to his chest, began to move.Slowly, deliberately, he extended them outward, as if offering a gift. His fingers trembled slightly, not with fear, but with something else – excitement?  Anticipation?  
  
  
 It was sick.   W̸̛̦̤̪̟͇̥͔̱͕̬̪͆̆̎̌̈̕h̴̡̫̜͇̰̙̙̯͈̣̰̳̉̉̈̄͆̓͗͜ȁ̵̢̢̭͉̻̲͉͖͕̬̳͍̠̣̣͇̮̏̉̐͌͜ť̵̨̳̖̳͙̰̥͕̤̳̪͕̳̰͙̞̦̊̄̂̎̍̽͆͛̔ ̸̯͓̭̞̹̥͖̽̉̈́̃͊͗̐̋͝d̵̞̐͌́̆̈͆͂̾̿̇ḯ̷͎̠̭̦̙̃͊ͅs̸̛̪̮͚͙̾̈́̇̓̊̈́̓͑͛̇͂͝ģ̸̨͈̖͎̘͚̘͖̮͍̫͇͈͈͕̟̩̤͎̄̓͋͌̐̀̈́ů̶͍̯̞̘̻͓͇̩͂̐́̓̎̒̍͌s̷̢͉̭̩̠̯̲̼̙͓̠̽̿͌͗̅̌̒́̌̈́͆̄̋͑͑̇͠͝t̷̨̢̨̻͇͔̰̰͙̻̉͗̀į̵̫̺̰̜̭̘̞̜̮͇͉͙̝̳̊͌͌͘͜n̵̡̢̛̹̠͍̰͙͕͓͖̼͚̣̞̳̪̅̑̈́̏͊̑̓̾̾̆̊̚͜g̸̢͎̲͇͈͊̔ ̵̡̡̢͈̥͔̲̫̱̼̯͖͍̗̝͙͓̹̟̠̙̂̈́̊̀̓͆͆́̃̀̈́̂̏c̶̼̱͎̟̝̺̳̬͍̜̟̹̽̓ȑ̷͓̟̫͋̒̆̔̅͌̍̎̔̀̐̆̀̍̔̈́̿̍̕͝͠ẹ̶̢͉̺̬̬͎̜̤͉̻̩̗̫̝̗̘̤̯̳͊͐̌̎̔̓͑̈́̀̋͗͝͝͠ͅa̴̹̻͍̪͖͔͖̭̟̬̗͕̳̤͐̎͜ͅṯ̵́̅̌̓͛́́̂́̉͂̅̅͒̿̈́̅͝͝ù̵͎̫̮̠̟̟͉̯̦̯̖̣̭̘͈̯͉̮̻ŗ̷̬͙̭̹̼͎͍͚̙̩̘̥̺̩͍̩̾͒̀͌͛͐̐̕e̷̗̮̱̮͌̓̋̌̈́͝ ̷̨͕͍̃̄͐̎́̏͊̂͑̽̊̇͝ḑ̸̛̘̱̝̙̱͕̘̜̰͙̯̯̞̗̱̞͎̑̂́̈̈́͂́̽̏̓̈́͑͂̋̌̈́̍̚i̶̡͔̹̻͇̖̯̍̄̑͊͆̽̈́̚̕̚͠ḍ̴̻̱̒̔͘ ̶̢͖̥̓́͂͑̌̌̕͝h̷̡̛̜̝͔̙̬̹͈͇̣̟̞̗̖͔̱͎͕̽̉͌̂̍̔͛̓̅͊͠͝ë̶̢̠̳̹̖̮̦̯̣͓͍͉̙͓̗͍̻̹͎́̅͋͋̏̏̇̌̅̒̈́̇̆̀͑͋̒̓́̕͝ͅ ̷̨̙̲̮̙̣̱͙̠͕͙̦̯̉̓͋͊̉̿̿̽̽͂̓͘͘͝ͅm̷͓͙̭͓̦͋̓̎͊̐̀͌̀̉̾̕͘a̸̢͍͓̬̐͝k̷̖̙̫̟̮̫̳̬̦̀ḙ̸̡̘̼͚̖̭̹̯͙̭̯̬̮̖̳͈̬̭͓̪́̌̄̔̈́̔̓͛̆?̷̨̛̙͎̣̝̝͓͙̫̪̯̣͕͎̞̣̜̘̪̇͌̍̆̓̑̒̎͊͂̋͆̀̉͑̋̕ 
  
  
  
 Gerald’s  gut churned. Shadow’s  tiny claws uncurled, and his hands  ö̴̗̼̞́̀́͘͜͝p̸̢̛̟̰̦̹̟̤̘̫͒̔͋̈́͗̃͘͘͜͠ȩ̶̲̝͍͉̟̔̏̀̎̃̔n̴͖͉̻̖̘̬̻̺̐̎̒̔̈́̓̿̅̓̐̄͑͠é̸͓̗̓̓̎́͝͝d̸͚͉̹͎̝̮͎̜̿̀̄͂̾͋̈́̚͝͠–̴̢̺͔̦̪̈́̀͜ 
  
  
T̴̫͇̠̿̓̈́̇͐́̕͝͝h̴̟̠̰̯͕̜͍̮̫̺̥͇̫̅́̏͐̽͛̏̌̿̾̋̀̚͜͜͜͠ê̴̛̪͈̟͚̗̰̻̘̐̇̃̅̃͌̅̈̓̆ ̶̙̝͉̞̻̝̤̳̞̥͆̋l̶̡̳͙̣͚̟͇̙̖̘̜̙̝͕̓̒͊́̐͗̏̇̄̀̃͝ì̸̧̡̜̹̮̖͓͉̱͈̟̮̉͐̅̒͛́̓̋̇̌͠͠͠͠ǵ̵̛̼̟̪̠̳̖̺͚͚͎̤̩̅̅̐̐̄̃̌͊͑́̄h̴͇̺̬͇̯͎͉̟͔̣̻̫̗̚t̷͚̞͖͚̽̑̕͜s̸̢̫̗̈͛̅̐̑ overhead flashed again. A burst of red. A flicker of white.  G̷͉̖̟̀ė̵͍͎̀͒͋͜ŕ̴̳̓̀̋a̶̧̧͉̗̓̊l̵̛͙̪͊́̈́d̸̢̠́͌̑ ̵͎͚͑̒̓w̶̡̟̄͜ă̴̤̈̚s̷̡̞̖̹̊́ ̴̬͆͋̋ń̷̡͎̆o̷̱͙͖͐̚ ̸̩̞͘l̵̰̬̟̪͑̂ơ̶̡̘͍̫͗́n̸͙̈́͜g̷̻͍͠é̴̛̺͓͋͝ř̸͕͕̮̕ ̴̖͉̾͆͜G̶͖͎̈́́ȩ̴̜̦̈́̑͐͜r̷̘̤̘͇̾́̋a̴̡̹͓͗͛̄͝l̷̨̥̼̥̂̿d̴̫̟̆̕.̷̧̢̦͑̈́̄ Shadow the Hedgehog stood in his place, not as a child, but as he was now – taller, stronger, draped in the weight of years he had  no memory  of earning. It took a moment to break from his stupor, but when he did, his breath hitched as the sterile air closed in around him, the walls of the kitchen suddenly feeling smaller,  too tight, too much.  
   “I-I… What…?! Where…?!” 
 He jolted, his body tensing with instinct before his mind could even catch up. His head snapped left, then right, muscles coiled as if expecting an attack, but nothing moved. He could still feel the phantom weight of what he supposed were  Gerald’s thoughts at the time  – his body had shifted so suddenly, so violently, but his mind lagged behind, struggling to catch up. The surrounding layout of the familiar kitchen felt warped, losing the clarity of their detail, and they remained that way even as he locked eyes with his younger self. The  fear  pressed into his lungs as though it were a  living thing.   The child –  himself  – was staring at him. That same smile. That same wide, unsettling grin stretched across his tiny muzzle, fangs too large for his small face. His little hands remained open, palms facing up, cradling something that was no longer there. The feathers at his feet fluttered slightly as if disturbed by a breeze, though there was none. Shadow drew in a sharp breath, unable to breathe as it felt coated in ice, slamming against his ribs. 
   What was this? What was happening?! 
 His limbs were stiff, frozen, and he felt like he had when he was placed under  stasis, wires wrapped around his wrists, ankles, his throat. The thoughts pounded on his skull, screaming for him to get away, but his body refused to budge. Muscles remained locked in place, twitching in vain protest.  
    The clicking. The clicking…!  

  
  

   I̴̛̝̱͔̫̟̮̎̑̀͛̎̔̌̑̅̄̕͝͠t̷͕̳̳͚̱͍̰͕͍̖̳͚̻̼͊̿͐̈́̓͌̄̆̑́̓̀͑͒̏̕ ̴̻̖̳̜̤͑̐͊̾̃͆͂͂̈́͐̏͗̃̇͂͜͠͝w̶̢̛̪͕̝̦͔̳͎͓̽̄̈́͑̈́̿̌̿̆̀͑͒̕͝ͅa̷̧̺͕̖̭̖̣͔̮̙̍̆͜s̶̡̡̧̧̢̢̢̧͙̦̗̲̠̦̳̑̎̊͜͠ ̸̦̺͔̗̖͕̥̈́̍̈́̾̌͊̊͗͐̔͆̓͌̚̚͜͝l̴̨̐̀̈́̂̀͘ö̴͔̩̻̞̬̺̼͕́͗̇͝͠ư̴̘̫͓̮̣̯̎͂̎̐̃͋̂͆͆d̵̨̠̩̬̬͕͖̟̤̈̈́͂̽̌̍̂̽̆̕̚͜͝e̸̡̢̖̜͙̣͕̖͚̫͙͖͉͇̣͓̮̊̃̅̀̃͛͐r̴̢̰͙̫̟͋̓͆̂̆̕͜͝ ̵͓̱̭̟́ ̶̡̗͉̞͗̇̈̍̋ṋ̷̬̱͌͊̃͂́̀͛̀̕͜o̵̢̗̮̥̝̙͓̥͇̲̰̞̱̬͍͛͆̉͆̈́̿͐͋͌̂͌̏͐̎̕͜͠w̵̧̨̛̻̫͎̯̬̲͉̗̭̞̖͓̥͂͆͌̀̐̂̈́͗̍̈̈́̉̓̇̕͝,̶̡̙̦̦̝͔̺̍̇͐̉̃̄̅͠͠ͅ ̸̨̤̲̩̝͔̞̖̪̗͔̣̮͓͎̥̏͐b̴̼̱̬̮̹̙̺̹̫̱̦͎̍͒̽̂̾̊̚̚͜͠ͅͅr̸̢̨͔̫̗̮͚̮̖̲͎͙̯̪͇͔͚̔̆̽̓̔̆̉̍̌͗̿̏̇̅̕ő̶̧̰̣͚̺̹͕̜̜͕̘̲̮͉͜ͅk̵͕̬̫̖̯̬̄̌͒͐́͂͘̚͝e̵̗̞͙̣̣̪̝͇̤͙̜̬̦̤̞͚̓̋̈́̾́̒̉̂͌̈̌͌͜͝͠ň̷̡͚̥͈̹̤͖͔̳̙͑̈́͛͋͆̆̎͗̆̍̔̊̄̕͝ ̵̳͉̟͗́̋̈͆̿̑̂̏̄̀̃̂̚í̸̛̪̝̟̱̘̰͉͍̬͕͇͉́̾̒͝n̷̼̘̮̩̺̩̠̥̳̯͚̟̱̉͊̚͜͝ͅt̷͓͆̓͌͐̇̒̾̀͌ő̶͎̫͛̔̊̿̈̎́̔̅̕͠ ̵̡̛̤͓̝̮̤̼͚̰͍̺̹̱͔̣̩͑̍͘u̸̟̤̝̜̣̇̀̊͛̅̈́n̸̢̢̡̡̪̖̩̖͔̭̜̳͍͑̋̑͐̕͜ȩ̵̢̝͇̯̠̠̞̮̟͎̣̺͍̐͜͜͝v̵̨̖͕̳̰̠̝̼̳͚̩͙̞̈́̀̽̓͌̽̋͒̈́̊̚͝e̸̢̱͇͉̭̯̼͔̦͍̝̤̰̼̽͛̅̈́͗͐̔͂̓̊̒́͘͝͠ͅņ̵̮͍̼̲̜̲̺̳̦͕͐̏̕ ̸̙̝͉̩̦̺̀̈́̓̿͗̾̃̾͐̍̌̽͑͠ͅs̵̡͍͇̫̭͙̗̼͕̥̣͓̔̆͆̀̑̓͒͋̀̊̾̋̓̃̑t̴̡͙̖̮̫̝̖̥̟̲̜̟̖̲̭͕̆̽͆̔̀͌̌̋̋͌̃̌̕͜͝a̷̧̬͈͂̅̐̒̅͆̍̊̒͌͋̄c̸̭̫̼̮̦͙̲̩̻̾́͐̕͜͠ç̴̼̤̬͎͕͍̝͉̣͓͎̥̹͖̙͔̀͋̈́̑́̌͐̕͝ȃ̷̡̯͇̲̖͎̤̝̫͑̽͋́t̶̡̛̲̬͕͚̙͚̖̰̥̰͉͉̠̹̂̊̈͛̄̌̐́̐͆͜͠ṍ̸̙̼ ̴̧̫̲͇̥͇̘̔̀̆͂́͝b̷̨̨͚̳̱̼̮̜̠̰̘͖͉̹̦̺͇͐̿̆͛̄͊̌̉̊̊̚ű̶̧͇̪̪͙͖̣̝̮̬̲̪̱̉̎̉̾̋̈̎̔̋̿̓̾̚͜͜͜ͅṙ̷̗̱̝͔̥͖̪̾̔̓̾̆͗̈̋̎͆̔̆̑͠ṡ̴̡͚̝̩̗͎̩̲̹̝̹͛̀̈͆͋̏̕ṱ̶͖̥̰̜̝̃̔̔̈́́̎͆̔͊̒̈́͐̚̕͝͠s̸̡̨̛͚̲̹̣̪̮̝͚͐̒̀̉̃̈́͋̓̆̀̀̚,̷̭̻͌̓̊́͒͘ ̶̦̇͌̑͌̃̽̀̅̈́͂͐̉͂̂͠a̷͎̜̦̳͙̞̤̠̚͜s̸̮͉͌͜ ̵͙̤͖̤̝̯̺͋͛̐̕ţ̷̛͎̼̞̓̐̿͛̑̒̄͆̽̆̍́͘͝͝͠ḩ̷͉̠̮̫̣̰͙̻͍̺̯̦̈́̓̓ó̶̺̲̓̈́́͗̂u̷͎͚̱̭̩͍̟̤̲̲͇̪̇͐̂͐́̂͝g̷͚̟̹̺̭̺̙̩̖̖̹̗̬͉̉̉͌̚͜h̴̡̻͉̙̍͂̄̀ͅ ̶̧̩̳̮͓͓͙̲͍͆w̷̢̠̱̜̑̃̓̂͐̃͗̄̌̀̕͘ḧ̵̖̞͕́̈́̄̎̉̈̌̂͋̈́̓ą̸̦̱̤͎͉͖͕̏͂͑̈̑̀̐͗̑͆̚͘ͅț̶̢̜̃̇e̸̛͈̭͗̌̽̊͒̾̈́͑͒͊̆͑̈́͘͠͝v̵̛̳ę̶̹̞̱̺͚̙̹̯͔̱͍͎̋͂͗̀͆̍r̷̛̦͑̒̆̀̇̎̊̎̀̏͊͛̊̀ ̶̢͍̖̘̝̠͇̘̟̱̲̔̌̍́͌́̍̑̾̓̈́̑͘̚͝w̴̨͚̲̦̗̪̼̼̬̜̗͈͖͇̖͊̄ͅa̴̧̢̤͔̬̬̠͉̠͚̙̩̗͓̙̩͓̚s̵̛͔̼̓̍͋̓͘͘ ̷̭̉͒̓̂̏ͅm̶̡͕̫͈͓̻̞̦͔̖̼͓̟̈̊̒̂͜a̷͚̻̲̺̘͍̟̳̙͈̯͙͛̂̿̇̔̅̍̆̒̈́͒͆̽̏̓̽͘ḵ̷̫̇̆̓͂͌͗̈́̽͆͗̈́̕i̴̢̧̟͙̱̻̭̬͍̫̖̺̺̣̟̅̿͘n̸̪̗̘̥̗̲̬̯̱͚̬̘̦̑͂͐̾̓̈́̍̑̒̒͘̕g̸̢͖͈̗̏̅̔̆̆̎̕ ̶̡̦̳̬͓̥̝͎̥͍̭̲͎̼̥̾͒͛i̴̧̡̛̛͇̯͚͍̯̟̭̫̳̒͆̉̎̿̑͂̈́̇́͠t̸̡̡̫͇̤̬̝̓͌̄̕ ̷̛̲̗͓̻̼̙͙͇̖̯̣̬̲͙̈̆̔̐̑͜͜ͅḩ̴̡̺̖̗̻͚͎̠̭̥͓̖̮͎͔̋̑̒͑̃͆̆͋̉̽̇̊͊̿̚̕a̴̢͉̹̙̘̖̥͊̄͌͒̍̐̅̍̊̕͜͠͝d̸̛̛̛͔͍̙̳͆͐̌́͛́́́͆͊̉̀̅ ̷̗̦̗̩͖̄͂̆̆̓͜ͅͅb̵̭̭̮̥͓̺̬̣̈͑͛̀̈́͛̔͛̀̕͘͜ē̵̞̬̪̼̤̒̂͑́́̌̊͗͒͝g̸̤͐͆͌̓͊̓̊̓͂̃͌u̸͉͈̅̌͐͐ͅn̸̡̝̱̱̳̑̈͘ ̶̺͎̗̭̜̼̗̹̘͙̺̘͐̍̊̓̏͒̄̑́̎̚͜͝t̴̰̞̝̤͔̝͕̪̪̩͖̙̱͒̂̈̆̍̇̐͝͝o̶̯͕̮̖͈̟̱̹̺̗̮̳̼̼̠̎͂̇̊̈̽̂͋͑͛̋̽̅̕ͅ…̷̧̨̛̪̦͒̀̔̒̀̈́̅̆͒̀́͗͝ ̵͕̫̮̥̤̜̱̹̪̹̃ͅt̸̡̫̻̗̲̬̖̍̐̊́̋͒̓͂̅̅̆̅̂̔̕̚ȟ̷̦̜̗̖̠̬͛̏̔̐̕͜i̴̢̨͕̲͎̘̞̣̲̰̙̦͎͙̽̏̌̃̂̽̿̽͑̏̅̒͘̕͝n̶̨͔͈̟͉̠̠̠̞̹͖͚̬̬̙͋̉k̵̨̢̩̜͉͈͖͖̫͚̹͓̤͙̎̑̊̉́̀̂̎̆͌̋͂̂͌͝͠͝.̵̲̖̼̟͎͎͇̻̼̦͕͊ 

  
  
The red light pulsed again, a slow, deliberate rhythm that drenched the room in arterial crimson. The color bled into everything – the walls, the floor, the scattered feathers. It clung to the child's fur, seeping into the dark tufts, highlighting the damp sheen of his quills. A presence, blacker than the surrounding dark, writhing at the edges of the light, shifting without form, without weight.  It didn’t belong there. It shouldn’t have been there. The child did not waver. His ears flicked, his expression unchanged, grinning, unblinking, locked onto Shadow as though nothing in the world existed but him. His fingers curled slightly, the pads pressing together, still expectant, still waiting for something unseen to be placed in them. And then, without a sound, without hesitation… The boy stepped forward. The soft press of his foot against the tile barely made a sound, yet it sent a jolt through Shadow’s entire body, electrifying his spine, unraveling the rigid paralysis that had bound him. His instincts finally kicked in, sharp and immediate, and he moved–- A single step back. 
   “...Shadow…” 
 The mirror of himself took another step forward. And another. The distance between them shrank with every slow, deliberate movement, each footfall impossibly quiet, as if the very world refused to acknowledge the sound. Yet Shadow felt them, each step crackling through his nerves like gunfire. His body locked up again, instincts warring between fight and flight, his mouth opening to shout a warning that he knew was only a bluff--! Blood spilled forth past his lips, making him choke out in alarm. 
  "Grh... Hngh...?!"
 Thick, heavy red. Vivid against his fur, against his bared teeth, and the child laughed at the sight of slow, viscous strings pouring from the older one’s mouth. Stained was his chin down to his bare chest, making the Ultimate Lifeform stagger in terror. 
   It wasn’t real… This couldn’t be real…! 
 
   “...Shadow…!” 
 Shadow knew, without understanding how, that if this thing using his face to mock him touched him, if those small empty hands so much as brushed his fur, it would mean only  death.  One heel of his boot slid against the tile, and despite the blood – not his own – making him unable to breath, he turned, ready to  run–  His foot met empty air. The kitchen was no more.  
   “Grgh?!” He gargled, falling into a black void that engulfed him, panic overtaking all rational mind. In the darkness, he heard the child speak again, and it all but ate him alive. 
 
   “̴̡͍͉̱̗̱̼͚̪̣̫͚̞̙͐̿̓̍̇͜͝ͅÅ̴̰̝̣̤̺̖̤̹̈́̒́̽͛̋̌̎̀̚͝n̸̬̭͉͚͉̺̦̳̼̦̼̻̘̖̫͛̉̄͛̋ň̸̘͔̬̠̿̂̂̓̇̽̕i̷̭͌̅̄̈́̎͊̀͆̈́̌̐͝ḫ̵̢̈́̀͒̏̄͗̂̚̕i̴̺̯̭̙̣͖̬̊̓̅̓̉͛̌̐͐̚̕͜l̸̜̪̋̾͂͋́̃̌͌̊͠ă̸̛̪̖͎̬̇͊͂͗̎̆̎̏͛͝͝͝͠ͅͅt̷͍͖̓͆͐̆̑͋̏̐͂̈́́̕͝͝ḭ̷̢̨̢̺͈̪̺͎̞͍̝̯̩̊̀͠͝ö̴̢̢͖̺͎̘̗̟̮̝̳̤́́͋̿̕͝͝n̷̨̢͇̩͓͇̞̝̳͙̥̥͕̺̜̽̕ ̷̨̢̢̪̬̠̺̞̠͇̓̍̽̆̅̀̽̎̿̌̀͝ͅf̷̧̨̢̛̭̝̯͇̫͍͉̳̻̎͐̈͌͒́́ͅo̸̡͔̘̭̖̣͋͋̄̆̐͛͝͠ͅr̷̡̧͉̖͓͗̇̃̓́̽̕ ̶̼̲̫̽t̸̡̡̗̜̣̬͎̞̠͓̔̍̉ͅḣ̷̢̛̖̻̥̩̤͆̽̓ì̵͔̪̩͕̩̤̑̉̇̈́̀͌͐̓̐͗̚s̷̢̧̹̯̼̬͎̩̖͖̘͎͎̻̤̪̅ ̴̢̦̰͈̤̰͖͗̈̐̅̋͆̅͒̒̑p̵̨̛̥̖̟̣̜͎̳̞̖̈́̋͋̈́͐͛́̌͠l̸̨͕̩̰̭̥̪͌̌̐̑͒́̐̍́͐̀̈́̕a̷͎̭̮͇̫͔̭̽̀̋͝ǹ̶͔͉̲͈͔͙́̉́̀̃̈̽̋͆̽ě̷̹̤͈͇͕̆͑̈́̽̆̿́̈̚͠͝͝͝t̵̫̦͇̦͎͇͚͇͚̼̭̅̋̆̿̈́͌̌̓̄ ̵͕͇̞̼͈̤̥̳͕͉̯͖̌̽͋̄͐̉̅͆̉̀̾͝i̷̡̧̢̳̬̲̪͉̥̺͉̞̭͙̲̤̇̅̑̌̒̀̍̒̍̾̌͑̂̿̆͐̕͜s̸̥̭͊̉̚ ̶̨̩͓̘͙̜̪͇̿͘n̸̢̡̢̬͇̻͔͎͎͔̙̺̋̾̈͝ê̵̡̓a̴̢̩͉̩͕̩̲̪̬͕̥͇͓̓́̑͆ͅͅr̷̨̡̧͍͎͉̱̥͎͉͖͕̭̳͍̔͜;̷̻̰̗̗̗͎̼̰͇͍̰̰͔̟̜̥͗̅͒̈̄͗̾̆̃ͅ ̶̢̛̞̲͔̱͈͚͎̬̪̦̱̣͎͕͕́̔͝i̵̧̪̯͕̦̙͇̝͌̊̂̇̊͆͂͆̈́͌̈̅ţ̶̧͖̩̞͙̞̙̣͉͉̜̠̰̰̗̋̽͌̓̅̉͐̔̄͋͜͠͝ ̶̧̢̫̄̓́̈́̏i̶̩̹͙̩͐s̸̨̧̝̱̖̪̯̓̀͛̿́͜ ̵̛͖͙͚͈̱̈̿́͂̇̍̾̓͂̌̈́͒̀̈́͝ţ̴̧̤͎̲͚̬̤̮̫̫̏̅̚ͅį̴̪̩̰̜͖͇̭̚͠m̴̢͕̦̜̤̪͉̤̭͙̂e̴͇͙͂̈̔̿̂ ̵͉̙͔̹̱̊́́̐̍̎͊́̔̉͐͊̽̍͝͝t̶̡̳̺̟̰͎͙̤̫̜̖͓͐̋̎̏̇̆̕ǫ̴̢̦̖̲̭̹̯̦̻̰͚͖̮͂ ̴̢̺̪̦͉̦̲͔̭̣͚̊͊̈́́͐̐͌́̉̔͘͠͝͝e̸̤̍̓̂͛͒͆͑m̸̬̺̯̙̗̻̩͍̘̼̜̣͂̏̑͌̇̊̆̈̈́͘͝b̶̡̛͕̺̫̲̣̺̞̣̳͗͑̃̍̉͆̅̽́͊͌͠r̸̡̮̟̙̣̤̥̭̼͐̌̌͑̍ą̸̛̯̬̲̯̩͓̟͕̆̏̐̔͛͜͠ͅç̵̪͕͍̺̦̩̪̩͓̼̣̭̀͋͐̎̃̋͛͌̅̂̽͌̿̋̀̐͠ě̷̡̛̼̞͍͈̬̰̪͂͋̔͜ ̶͕̹̗̫̣͙͎͚̫̩͓̩̋̃t̸̖̦̼͙̃̏̋͒̒̐͋̽͗͝ḩ̷̧͓͍̲͍͔̲͙̱̭̙̣͍̔͌̿̀͆̑̌̒́̄̈́̈͘e̷̡̙̗̙̙̮͎̱̗͈̮̰̯̳͇̫͘ ̵̧̠̥̗͙͕̫̲͖̞͉̭͒̓͐̄̌͒̎̇̒͝͠ḏ̴̡̧̨̨͖̫̝̮͔̺̠̤͙͕̜̓̓̈̂͊̈́̋̈̓͝a̶͔̬̩̙̭̼̦̭͆͋͑͌̀̒̚͠ẇ̴̟̦̲̭̜͕̿͋̑̊̃̏͝n̶̺̹̿ ̴̺̥̱̯̘̞̰͙̜͓͔̺̫̌̈́́̐̅͗̂͛͝͝ò̷̮̠͉̒̾̈́̈́̕͝f̴̘̘͛ ̸̼͖͕̰̺̗͉͍̫̘͎̆̍̐̈́̎̂̎́̑̃̚͜͜y̵̧̹͎̻͉̲̫̙͙̬̻̜̲̫̫̠̓̓͘ǫ̴̣̤̤̰̳̦͔̮͍̗̎͘ǘ̴͕̠̤̭̭͎͕̝͎̭͈̀̂̔͘̕̕r̸̛̤͇͎͖̳̤̔̈͊͐̋̋͒͛̇͜͠ ̶͚̠̺̱̜̼̤͓͙͎̿́̽̾͗̏̈͆͑̓̐̃́̕͜͠d̶̢̥͖̯̘͍̺͚̯̘̻͕̝̘̞͋͆̆̽̑͛̓͘̕͜ͅé̴̥̗̩̝͉͈͓̤̺̃͆͐͛͆́̍̔̌̿͌̐̔̋́̕m̶͇̰͈͉̘͕͔͇̟̹͔̳̠̔͛͛͂̅̊͑̍̅͆̇̈́͘͝ͅḭ̶̼̖͈̯̥̤͎̺̩̼̆̏̏̄̃̈́̅̊̇̂̚͘͠ͅś̶̡̡̡̛̩̘̬͕̪̤̖̣̟̞̟͗͒̄̀̽͊̇̂̑̅̚ę̶̣̤̞̓͋̌̂̉͑̈̎̽͛͗̇͠͝͝ ̴̢̜̜͉̘̥͈̑̔̏̉̃̚͝a̴̦̦̜͔̤̯̫̳͂̎͆ͅn̶̜̏̋̈́̎͒͊̎̈́̈̈̇̓̾͝d̸̡̞͖̪̜̟̹̮͓͐̄͌̈́͑̀̋̀͊̌̈̿͐́͜͠͠ ̶̛͖̞̜̌̓́̾̄̈́̿͌̄̊̓̍͠͠͝d̵̛̳̞̞̥͓̲̲̰̭̯̰̪͈̮́̄̉͛̈̊͠͝ḛ̴͙͈̞̹̆̌s̸͇̟̈́̋̐̍̿̂̏ṕ̵̛̦̟͎̝̠͚̺̈́̒̉̂̈́ȧ̵̡̡̝̯͖̟̱̪̺̼̰̩̩̠͎͊̏̿̀̈̒͗͋͜ȉ̴̢͆́̆r̵̡̰̈́͋̇́͑̃̏͂͐̅̂̅̏̔̕̕ͅ.̶̻͚͍̬͚̳͕̹̙̍̃̈̉̓͐̄̚͘͜ͅJ̷̛̖̓̀̆̽̃̈́̀̔̈̿̀̇̆͠ù̸͇̺͔̤̲̦s̶̘̝̩͔̰̲̩̩̤̪̭̾̿t̸̛̺͓̱̠̺̮̲̺̺̼̲̺̂̈̎̾̃̋̈̏̑̉̚ ̶̩̩͍͉͍́̈́̃̎̑̄̎̉́͐̕͘l̶̛͖̹̈́̾̇̋̍̄͒̈̇̄̈́̔̏̎͠ò̶̡̜̺͖̹̳̠͉͌̿ŏ̵̫͈̝͉̣̗͚k̴̡̳͕͇̖̻̇͊̏̏͋̅̕͝ ̸̡̢̛̤͚̮̣̤̖̹̲̠̻̲̩͉̤̓̈́̾͛̔͐͐̇͌͜a̷͉͐̏̍̾͐̃͛͗́̃̓t̸͓͕͍̯̤̰̦̥̦̳͗͂͆̆̎͒̿̚ ̸̨͚͉͈̹̰͇͔͉̅͑̑h̵̨̧̝̥͖̮̻͖̰͚̻̦̰̎͊̈͗̎̿͗͘̚͜ǫ̴̨̟̣͑̿̓̌̌̈̑̇͗̽̃͒͂͘͘͝ẁ̴̡̪͈̮͇̲̤͊͗́̆̅͆̀͑͝͝ ̸̧̫̻̭͕̞̓͊̇̊̔̆͂͗͊̽ẗ̵̝͚͙̻͇̳̙́̈́̌̊͂̌̚h̸̼͙͖̲̳͇͓̩͆̈́͘ö̴̡͍̆́̏̑͋̌̚s̷̛̜͎͔͙̅͛̌̋̒̄͌͌̕ͅe̷̛̤͕͎͎̠̱͓͔͎̲̞̦̩̹͂͂͐͛ͅͅ ̸̟̗̫̬̯̥̉̋̇͊͌͆̕̚ḩ̵̑̂̀̄̄͂̉͊͆͛̕ṳ̷̽̄̆̚m̵̡̹̘̬̹͔̩̞͉͈̟̟͔̳̖̰̃̾̽͗͊̉̇͑͜a̵̛͕̻̟̔̄̆̐n̵̛͚̹̘̦̟̟͍̈́͒͌̽́̌̈̏̊͛̈̅͂͘ͅs̸͖̗͓̉͆̾̔̅͜ ̸̙͕̹̀̆̉̾̇͆̃f̷̡̧̫̹̟̣̤̯͙̤̝̭̻̖̺̯̄̄́̇͋͊̔́̔̏͝l̸̫̟̰͓͎̜̈̇́̂̈́̑̉̿̄ȩ̶̛̯̖̯̫̾̄͛͐̈́̾̎̌̔̓͋̾͋͆͜͠͝ȩ̷̫͉̺̖͈̘̰͓̺͚͇̩͈͎̏̒́́̈́ ̷̧͖̂̂͑̽̒̓͠ẅ̵̡̢̡̪͎̻̗͙̭̺̪̞͍̙̀̈́͛̂̆́̐̂͂̈́͘͘̕i̸̡̪̪͚͕̝̥̟̳̩̾̇̿̍̽̆̽̈́t̶̡̢̯͇̏̊͗̑̀h̸͉̖̞̖̟̩͎̲̯͓̭͉̲̮̰͈̦̊͗̆͠ô̴̩̣͈͈͎͖͉͍̿͋̐̍̇̿̐̍̇͝ų̵̨̢̨̤̲̫̼̱͔̯̖̮͉̓͋̀͒̓̎̊͋̚̚͜͝͠͝ͅţ̴͈͍̜̙͇͖̙̞͎͊̀̄̃̚͝ ̷̩͔̰̱̦̐̆͌̏a̸͚̗͇̼͍͑́̽̊̄̍̕̕͘ ̴̡̧̬̱͍̦̙̺͙̘͓͍̤̔͋̍̔̉̎̚͝ͅͅf̶̛̥̬͕͗͐̆̅̅̇̇̀͆̔̉į̶̜̪̝̪̗̰̬̌̾͗̔͛͗̌́̈́̏͝͝g̸̬̮̻̭̊̚h̵̡̛̭̃̐̌t̸͕̰̞͚̑̔̾͒̐̈́̍͆͂̄!̶̧̘̦̬̱̳̝͒͗̅͒́͋̐̓̂̾̏͘̕͜͠͝͝ ̴̢̣̦̔̈́T̴̨̛̜̰̩̹̝̘̰͔̩̮̘̮̿̈̓̊̌̿͋̓͊̊̚̚ò̶̡̡̭̼͎̤͓͍̠͍͝ ̵̟̬͈̙̯͓̤̠̲̂̃͂̈̌͒̽̿́̿̽͘ͅͅy̴̦̱̰͛̊͂̂̓̃̎̏́̄̕͠͝͝ô̸̦̤͑̃̀̓͋ŭ̶̻̩̝̘̭̟͖͕̦̗̘͚̼͂̀̀̓̇́̅̌̾́́̚̚̚͝͝ ̶̡̛̟͈͉͕̈́͊̂͌͘̚g̷̛̮̭͚̟͓̭̘̏͑͗̆͗͑̀̚̕͘̚͝͠͝o̸̢͍͔̬̒̎̉̀̄͑̿̒͗̎̀͆͂̚͝ ̸̠͔̫̺͑̅̓̊̈́̾̏͐̌̀͝t̵͙͎̗̯̭̓̍̏̿͐̍͛͗̔̈́͘̚h̵̹͎̻̪͈̥̭̼͍͂̅̃̌́̀ë̷̞̠̣͇͇̤͈̯̦̙͔̭͎̠̪̙̲́̒̅̃͐̈́̏͝ ̵̡̛̹̙͈̀̈́́̏̔̒͊͂̕ş̴̙̳͎͖͓̝̖̞̹̖̥̙͒̂p̴̝̫̙͒̋̓̿͑̀̓̃o̷̡̱͎͕̺͖̣̖͑̅́͗͝i̴̛̗̻̹̞̗̮̮̤̟͓̙̥͗͛͑̓̈̏͋̃̆̐̕͘̕̕͠l̴̛̲̜͙̈̒̈́̀͒͐͝͝s̴̼̖͑̽̀̑̋̓͊̃̀̍̂͆̈́̚̕͘͠ ̶̢̢̼̉̉̑̀͗̅o̷̢̤̠̼͓̘̤̹͙̼͐͂͜f̵̨͓̣̔̊̄̏̀͐̓́̈́͊̐̐̎̒͆̇̅͜ ̴͓̪̌̑t̸̢̨̡̛͔̠̝̙̲͖͉̠̬̫̪̍̀̓̎͂̓̈́͑͑́̎̆̀̕ͅh̴͔̞͖̳͙̣͇̹̖͗e̶̛͖̖̳͈̤̲̔̆̀̐̎̅̇̿̎̈́͂͘̕͠ͅi̷͔̻͈̖̗͔̯̞̩̔͆͛̓̓͊̿̉͒͑͘͜r̴̡̥̖̬̺̗̻̯͕̖̗̜̎͂͒̒͌ ̴̡͍̮̰̈̓̄̉̌͑̈́̚f̶̢̢̢͚̦̙̙̳̮͓͋̀̓͜͝õ̷̦̪̣̙̱̙̣͚̯̥̝̳̱̲͔̗͉̀̓̔̕ḻ̸̡̲̦̬̟̟̰̳̱͕̠͎͋̇̎̔̈́͜͜l̷̥͔͇͎̦̫̥͉̮͔̖̻͉̣͌̔̆͋̄̈̏̀̌̈͝ÿ̵͎̩̺̈́̏̇͐̄̂̀̎̀.̴̢̢̡̗̳̙̜̮͖̣̬͎͔̭̯͇̳̽̑͂̓̽́̔̏W̴̢͈̹͔̞̦͇̯͈̩̮̊̈̇͋̑́̊̍̿̊̔̓̕͝ͅh̷͈̻̖͎̦̻͙̪͐̈́͑̚a̷̡̭̺̙̳̹͒̂̄̓̅̒͐͂̚͜͠ţ̸̛̲̼̥͍̥̗͔̺̙͓̻̹͓̩͎̅̔̏͗̓̀̓̀̈́̎͘͝ͅ ̶̡̙̥̙̣̭͕̥͈̫̥̬̙̞̐̆͊́͊͋̓͒͑͆̌̒͋͒͛̈́ḑ̷̧̛̛̭̼̦̠̒̓̅͐̋͛̋̒͒̍̑̎́͗̂ȏ̶̯̆ ̴̡̛̰̖̦͐̋̾̓̍̈́̿̃͂͘͝ͅy̵͎͆͛́̊̈͐̐̓̚͠o̷͍̬̱̭͇͖̪͇̼̟̞̘̞̔̽̎ǘ̴̧̨̢̦̤̙̭͍͖͖͉̭̗̻̊̒͊͐͜ ̶̘͎͎̘͍̱̤͓̟̟̼̓͐́̊̃̍͒́̆͒͐͑̅̅͗̆̕t̶̨̘̖̱̘̅͐ͅḩ̴̢̨̛̳̤̼̞̬̜̥̖̯̩͔̫̱̽̑͛͊͐̇͑̅̓͒̚̕̚͠ͅį̶̖̟̲̇̎n̴̛̖͎͖̈́̌̋͒́̉̈́̈́͗͛̓k̷̙̲̺̭͚͈͂́̓̍̀̓̌̂͛͂͋͋͝ ̷̡̬̤̠̹͉͙̖̖̜͈͕̰͉͇̳̦̾̈v̶̛̬̮̩͉̥̣̺͆̽̅͊͐͂͆̚͠ͅě̴̢̨̝̦̝̘̖̹̱͓͙̩̗̠̀͑ŗ̴͙̟̺͎͙̬͖͇͔̥͔͇̖̄͆͊̒̇̎̅͋͑̐͌͌̓͐̅̚͝m̸̨̨̩̰̓̆̐̂̈͌̔i̴͈̗͔̒͛̈́̿͆̌̿̈́͘͝n̴̛̪̗͇͉̉̾͋́̔͂̾́̉́́̇̚̚͠ ̷̢̧̣͓̝̭͇̰̰̣͂̔̈́͆̾͑̍͗̈̚ͅͅľ̵̨̗͈̯͖̮͙̹̤̗̠͖̟͔̩̓̍̈́͝ǐ̴̘͕͇͙͔̌̏̓͂̓͜k̵̡͙̖̜̳̬̪̞͎͝ͅĕ̷̹̣̩͙̹̇̈̋̾̊̀͝ ̵͇̼̼̳͈̹̀̅͊̐ÿ̴̢̢̻͔̠̤͚̫̫͔͍̗̩̬̠͓́o̸̻͉̥̖̯̣͓͍̎͊̆͌̀ȕ̷̳͉̹̤́ ̵̧̛͚͎̮̦͙̫͓̙̗̗̺̪̩̔̓͛͗̃̽̏̿̒̒̾͌̿͘̚͝c̴̜̞͗̾͛͂̀̓̀̎̂̏̑̆a̵̫̗͍̖̤̼̲̺̜̮͎̾̈́͂̽̆͒̄̿̆̇̐̐̽͘̚͜͠n̷̨̥̥͙̙͈̝̮̯̜͚̾̋̏ ̸̛̯̆͋͂̉̈́̈́̀͐͑͋͘̕ȧ̶̺̟̟̫̍͋́̑̂̚̕͘ć̶̛̖͕̱̩̱́͑̇̈́̽̕c̷̱͕̜̻̩̲̙̩̥̩̫͕͆̅̂̔̓͘͜ͅͅo̷̯̎͗̄ṃ̸͉̱̲͇͍͉̱̝̪̩̦̝̞̾̓͊p̷̢̮͈̫̲̈̑̈́̌̔̈́̾͛͂̚l̶̡͈̲͉̤͕̗̬̮̪͍̞͔̤̹̱̣̐̎̉̓̋̇͝ȋ̴̛̛̗̞͑̂̓͐̿̕s̸͎̹̋̔͐̎̐̓̓͊́h̴̨̡̛̤͓̰̦̺̝͓̝̓̒̃̑̂̋͌͊̆̔͌ ̶̨̨̢̡͎̥̜͖̤͚̥̰̰͆̊̎̃̈́̓͛͋̚͜ͅǫ̵̛͖̟̥̺̞̠̠̖̘͔͉̗̱̙̀̔́̆̀͋͋ͅn̵̩̭͉̥̜̮̯̫̣̊̉̑̓͐̆̈̃͊͜ ̸̠̘̬͇̤̗̹̼͙̜̄̒̀͌̿̄̔̊̑̎̓̔̃̏̾͠ẙ̸̧̪̘̦͇̳̈́̈̓͂̉͆̊ŏ̸̡̧͍̲̼̗̼͕̘̩̜̎͋̔̓̈̌͛͌̏͘͘͘͜u̶̜̞͈͉̳͎̇͆̌̾͌̽̈̔͌͆̃̅̕͘͝ŗ̷̞̺͇͖̫͍͎͍͈̗̳̓ ̶̗̩͑͐̉̏̃͊͊̉̄͋̑̆͛̎̅͘͝ṓ̴̡͙̮̲͙̹͇̣̳̱̝̮̀͒̒͋̋͘͝ẘ̷͔̃̎̓͝n̸͖̼͙̠̭̱̭̦̠̙̈́̅͑̀̿̔̃?̴̢̧̞̭͚̣̪͙͔̮̞̗̑͋̒̏͑̓͌͝ ̶̨̬̟͇͔̹͚̫̯̠̘̖̉̔̉̓̆͋̀Ḻ̵͖͚͍̀̍̔̈́͜ẽ̵̛͉̞̘͔͚͔̫̯́̒̒̈́̇̐̍̈́͊́͝ͅț̴̢̗̯͕̙̮͈̟̪͋̊̽̓̚ ̴̡̡̹͔͕̞̳͉̱͚͓͚͕͛̒̀̈́̒͒̇̓͌̉̌̇̔͑̕͜m̷̛̛̻͎̗͈̎̿̾̌͐̉̿̉̍̄̀̃̍͘̕ẹ̶̡̝̰̯̮̘͖̋̉͝͠ͅ ̸̝̙̫̻̞̞̑͘s̶̢̗̱̻͚͕͇̼̖̘̙̳̺͙͑̾̅͗̈́͌̕͘͜͠ͅḩ̴̟̺̇̈̔̈̕o̷̳͚͓̣͖̠̼͂̓̑͜ͅẅ̸̧̨̡̝̺̲̞̣̞̣̞́̐̌̽͆͝ ̴̛̗͈̗̟̹͌̀͊̑̆̔̌̔͜y̷̨̧͖͖͑̑́̕͝͝ǫ̵͙̭͖͆̋̓͋̽̇͛̈́͒͛͛͋̌̈́͘u̵̧̞͉͇̬̯͖̬͍͇̦̜͇̎̉́͛̇́̉ͅͅ.̵̨̛̗̼̂̾̉̈́͠.̷̢̟̪̠̲̤̮̩͈̥̩͕̀̇̆̉̽.̶̨̩̠̰̝̞̇̐̕̕ ̸̧̢̨̛̰̦̭̫̖̟̑̾͑͜t̷̡͕̜͉̝̙̝̤̙͓͋̾͂̾̈͊̂̐͐̽̃͂̒̉́̽͜ḩ̸͈̲̫͇̉̓̂͛͑̔̃͆̆̀̋̋̌͂̕͜͜ǫ̵̭̗͕͍̞̝͆̊͛̿̅̕s̸̠͓͙̟̱͕̗̉͑̃̅̚e̶̳̫̣͕͎̠̹͖̤̺̾̏͐̏͆̏͊̚͘̚ ̵̛͖̝͚̩̮̮͍̺̟̌̆̽̒͋̇͝w̴̛͔͈̫̝̦̼̜͙̪̟̹̻͓̑͆́̾̈́̇̑́͜ḣ̶̥̏̒̄͗̈́͋͑́͆̂̾̑̊͒͝o̴̢̥͓̦̙͎̬͚̰͇͒͜ ̴͔̥̫̳̰̝̬̹͙͍̥̳̩̙̓̄̏̈͒̕c̴̫̺̺̝͕̻̜͓̜̦̬̥̤̜͕͉̅̄͑̈́́́̀̽̿͆̚̕ͅo̶̙̙̣̪̪̯̗͖͈̭͒̄̈̌ͅm̷̼̘̈́m̴̢̧̤͙̫̟͓̻̜̺̜̖͂̒̃̀̈́̋̎̈́̆͑̍̇̑͊͑i̴̹̐͛̆͗̚͠ẗ̴̖̺̺̲̙̲̣̝͉̮͈̠̺͕̤́ ̴̡̺̬̖͙̾̑͗̈́̓̒̒̇̇̕m̸̨̢̫̪̘͇̘̺͉̫͖͇̫̙̈́͛̀͗̃̎̈́̀̊̋̃̃͜͝͠ư̵̡̹̹̲͙̼̱͎̺̣̦̤̰̻̆͊̾̓̉̒̈̔͗̌͘͝t̸̛͉͌͂͐̕͠i̷̢̡̧̧̨͖̬̰̞̻͈̪̪̹̇͊͋̅̀̂̋̋̎͐̒̓̃͘̚n̸̘̞̮͌̎ÿ̷̱̤̳̻̖̬̜̟́̓ͅ ̶̫̣̣͖͋́̆̓͆́̂a̶̢̛̘̭̦͍̼͑̓̔̒̒͆̈́̇̚g̵̡̻̦̞̩͇̠̪͈̫͓͖͈̊̌͒̈́̿̐̐̅a̸̡͍̪̲̱̱̻̦̖̩̤͊̄͌͌͝i̵̡̛̛͇̼͑̿̔͑̍̊͛͆̔̈̿͌͠ǹ̴̢̫̭̟͈̟͎͇͇̤̱̜̯s̶͎̲̠̓ẗ̷̠͈̭͔̤̫͓́͜ ̴͖͖̭̆̅͑̑̎̑͝m̷̨͎̲̣̩̅͋̏͒͋̕̕̕͝͝é̷̡̙͙͍̝̟͓̫̐́͆̏̈́̈͂̅̋̈́̒͘͝͠ͅͅ ̶̡̤͈̜̫͍̯̈̑͑̑̇͑̐w̵͕̟̌̃͗͛͌̇̽̆͐̓̐͛̈́̃͝ȋ̷̛͍̖̙̠̖͍͈̩̄̀̉̕̕ͅḽ̸̼̿̽͂̀̀̊͂͂̅͛̂̿ļ̷̬̣̥͇͎̘̫͋̿́͊ ̶͚͒̾ͅş̴̛͖͖̘̟͎͑̏͆̄͂́̈́̆̋̉̿̚͝ë̷̼̠̱͉͔̮̱̣̉́͜͝e̸̱̖̹͉͕͔͙̪͖̅̀̓̊̀̓̇́͜͝͠ͅ ̶͉̗̘̥̼̠͔̳̬̥̪̜̯̱͑̀̊̽̃̄̈́̀̀̂̔ņ̷̛͕̮̲͔̮͉̃̆̄̓̀̍̎̅͛̋̓̀̆͘̕ǒ̵͓̳̙̭͚͋̅̾̀͛ ̵̢̛͇͚̦̖͋̿̏̿̍̿́̍̅̓̕͝m̷̧̮̬̣̞̯͖̼̫͍̝̪̯̲͚̔͐ͅe̸̲̬̙̹̭̍͌̆̽͂͋͆̚͝r̵̢͈̦̞̩͇͕͈̦̣̟̮̣̥̱̲̊͑͆̈̇̽͗͂͋̈́͘͘͝ḉ̷̡̢̻̥̻̺̦͎̞͎͖̪̙̜̤͋͌̇͜͝ŷ̷̨̢͚̹͍̣̻͈̯̮̗̠̤̙̇͛͊̅͜.̶̨̘̪̤̞͙̝̩̞͚͚̖͈̇͑̈́͘̚͜͜.̵̮̮̼̪͓̗̪̤͗͋͋̍̈́̄̈́͛̿͐ͅͅ.̴̼̋̃̋͌͋̀̋̎̽̑͋̿͝ ̴̩̈́̎̐̋̌̀͐͌̀͛̃͠ą̸̳̋̍̾̈̈͐̈́̀̓̚̕͝͠n̶͓͙̜͎͑̈̃͜ͅd̶̦͔͗̈́̈́̒ ̷̧͖̩̟͎̳͙͓͇̘̫̖̗͛̽͊̐͌̊͋̊̉̀̐̕̕̚̕ḑ̶̦̣̩̞̀̒̂̏͒̐͐̌̈́̎̈͑̓̊̿o̴̡̨̪͇̳̳̙͓̝͚͌ ̶̨̨̳̜͈̻̦͙̳͍̪̹̮͉̾̉͒̌͛͂̈́̄̈́́̈́̑̚̚̚͝͝n̷̛̤̯͖̦͛͋̎͑̏̈́́͂̍͊̈́̅̚̕͝͝ō̸̢̧͔̫͍̤̮̪̉t̵̡̺̤̗͗ͅ ̴̧̛͉͍͚̻̼̤̊̄͂̾̅̊̀͗̿͗̕ḑ̸͉̯̳͐̈́͑͌̈̿̍͘e̶̛̖͈͇̻̼̤͈̫͙̰̓̌͌̄̆̔͛͂̆͋́̽̾ͅf̸̗̱͇̞͕̱̫͎̦̣͌̓͠y̸̧̋ ̴̨̫͔̟͔̫̱̘̼͖̲̗͇̥́̊̿̋̆̏̉̏͌̎͂m̴̙͙͎̭̟̘͍̩̤̗̦͎̺͂̅́̈̆̒̈̈̏̌̓͋͑̑͐͝͠ē̸̡̨̯͕̜̬̟̭̥̘͈͔̋͠ ̸̫̮̩͍͖͙̭̻̏̑̑̊͘a̸̧̻̙͍͍̙͔̬̽̽̑̇̏͛ͅğ̷̗̖͓͖̭̺͇̍̀͗͘ā̵̰̗̳͍̔̅̄̊͑̉̅̂̽̉̂͑͝ỉ̸̡̡̬͈̝̹̱͎͓͉̼̹̼̳̰̤̐̓̈̆͗̃̚͝͝n̷̦͍̤̼͓̞̼̣̘̅̒̅̀̇̋̋̄͗̈́͆͝͠ͅ!̸̢̰͔̼͚͖̱̖͚̼̠͍̬͍̖̕ ̷̙̲͖̗̅͂̔̿̃̊̍̂I̶̡̛̖͍̙͕̣͖̱̫̰̲͊̍̀̄̚ ̶̨̱̮̱͎̻̩͔̞̳̘͙̬͚̘̓͌͐̋̽͘͜͝ͅs̷̢̡̘͙̹̰̖̈̈́̂̈́̋͛̾͆̉̀͋͘h̴̛͓͕͒̐͌̈̂̈́͋̐̋̚̕͠a̸̝̹̦͚̘͔͇͓̣̲̜̜̫͚̦͗̎̈̐͂̀͆̆̇͘l̶̛͕͙̞̠͇̼̮̼̘͗̐͐́́̂̋͒͒͛ͅĺ̴̲̊̽͑͠ ̷̧̳͓̭̺̺̿͂́̾̈́̂̍̅́̀̄̚p̵̛̖͍̭̺͍̹̠͋̋̿̾̌̌̏̿̌͝ͅu̸͍̭̭͈̜̳̫̳̼̙͌̀́̏̾͂̈̄́̀̾̕͝t̸̢̋̓͊͜ ̸̯̫̜̗̭̳̬͎͖̙̥͎̘͋́͝ą̸̧̥̺͙̜̣̝̰̖̤͚̖̄̏̊͗͂̔̀͑̿̊̈́͑͝ṇ̶̛̃͑̽͐͆̐̈́͊͂͒ ̶̩̘̘̻͍͚͌̈̑e̷͚̞̮̰͛͋̐̍͑̆̈́́͂̀͝͝n̸̤̼̾̓̆̂͌͝d̴̡̻̖̥̭̺̮͔͍͈̙̩̮̥̖͕̅̍͂̑̔̈̕ ̷̧̨̰̜͉̥̫̬̫̥̼̰͛͛̍̎̐̇͝͝t̴̢̮͉̥̘̫͉̙̞̪̐̾̍ǫ̴̧̛͓͚͖̠̥̟͉̭̲̳̪͈̇́̉̏͋̐͌͑̉͗ͅ ̴̧̢̪̹͈̾́̓y̷͔̮̝̫̝̭̞̌̌̾̏̅̅̏͒̓͠ͅò̴̙̗͕̜̭͙̬͋̓̀͒͂̄̈́̈͆̽͊ṳ̵̙̼̮͍͓̤͎̫͎̳͓̣̖̖͔͐̑̌̎̅ṙ̸͍͚̿̒̒̽̐̿̀̀͆̏̈́̕̕͝ͅ ̴̢̨͈͇̝͓͔̠̗̜̘̀̀̎̀͛̾̍͗̀̃͗̀̄̾̑͘͝f̵̡̰̻͈̙̩̻̹̹̣̌̓ơ̴͓̩͗́̇̎̎̌o̷̢̖̣̱͎̝̅́̒́̀̇͛͗̔̒͊̇̈́̒̚l̸͕̦̺̥̫̻̟̜͈͉͚̥̳̍̍̿̈͆͌͑̆́͘͜͝i̴̢͈̱̺͈̼̦̼͍̯̼̱͋̿̾͂̕͝ş̵̡̲̼̩̜̬͍̣̮̫͎̤͎̐̕h̵̛̰͈̺̔̈́̽̇͒̅͒͛̄̊ ̴̥͖͖̣͉͎̰̠̤̪͇͙̯̝͙̯̏͋̈a̶̦͔̩͕̫̿́̓͗̓̅ͅt̴̖̰̅̅̃͒̎̊̄͆̓͗̒̒͗͗͘̕͜t̸̡̢̡͍̱̟͚̺̱́̌͊̕͜͝e̶̡̖̘͍̮̦̳̙̹̺̲̝̟̦͚̓͌m̷̢̧̱̤̫̼̦͓̥͍͈̘̹̦̲̘̹̃̎̉̀̋̐̿̆̓p̴̛̲͓̞̹̰̠̺͑̑̐̊̿̏͊̃̀̈ͅť̴̹̍̋̋̔͊̿̕͘͝ṡ̴̡͍̺̈͗̌̽͐̉̌̎͐̆̑͋͘ ̷̧̨͎̬͍̺͔̪̬̱͉̙̝̃̊ţ̴̙̼̤̱͕̭͎̲̿̄̍̀̈́͒͘̚͝ö̵͙̬̝̻͈̓ ̴̼̻̫͖͛̀d̵̨̝̫̭̠͓͔͚̰̝̫̻̲̜̻̏͜͠e̵̢̮̝̖͇̬̩̟̝̔̂͆̾́̓̄̏̈́̋ͅf̶̟́͆̾̿ÿ̷̨́̄̾͛́ ̴̧̢͖̰͋̋̉̏̕͘m̷̪̒̑̌̒̒̍̔͑͐̃͂́̚͠e̸͖̞̮̣̝͖̘͕̟̤̠͉͑̔̍̉̿̎̾͘͜͜͝,̵̧̜͈̰͖̱̫̗͚̉̎ͅ ̷̢̉̒̿͋̈́a̴̛̭̹̎̇̍͊͝ņ̶̨̧̲͍͕̣̺̩͔͙̟͔̈̊̊̈́͌̕̚͘͜ḑ̵͚̼̫͕̫̬̟̩͎̌́̌̌́̀̈́͐̎͌͂͊͊́̓͝͝ ̴̢̡̣̘̦͖͍̭̪̣̭̯͓̳͊̈́͜ẏ̴̙̫̈́́͂̉̿́̾̈́̑͌́̍͂͘͘o̵̢̮̤͇̳̱͍̖̮̠̺̪̫̔̉̈̈́͘͠ͅu̸̧͚̥̭̣͈̤̙̗̣̝͇̎͐̾̇̀͘r̸̢̡̛̩͍̱̎͐̓̿͑́͐̅̅̏͌̌̆̒́̚ ̶̢̙͎͔̥̒̓͑̒͒͂͐͜m̸̧̢̢̧̩̮̠͓̹̬͙̂̿̑̈͛̀̔͆̋́͛̈͘̕͝͝ḭ̶̼͕̰̼̀̑̓̽̌͑̚s̸̨͍̞͕̯͚͓̻͛͊̈́̇̓̀̍͗̌̈́͆͝e̵̲̭͍͓̘͍̐͑̾̄̍̌̊̑̈̚͝r̴̢̖̪͉̟̠̙͍̲̈́́̽̿͋̐͘͠a̸̢̡̖̰̫̮͕̝̬̻̪̞̹̝̘̩̫̍̎̆̃̾̋͒̐̎̎̚͝b̶͇͎͇͙̝̙̺͙͇̹͑̓ĺ̶̳̞̙̺̹̗̞̫̹̘̾͐e̸̢̼̭͔̻̗̦̙͍̭͎͖̦͚̮̱̎͑͝ ̷̠̿̾̌ͅè̷̢͎̟͖̣̫̮̯͔̞͍̹͕̲̺̝̎̾͒x̵̢̪̫̯̜͙̫̣̗̱̩͈͔͑̇͆̓͂̆ͅi̴̛͓͉͔̊̍̔̀͂̾͂̋͛̃̍̅̑̚ș̵͎̹̔̈́͝ţ̸̻͙̲̰̹̤͕͗ͅȩ̷͙̫̬͈̹̻͍̤̫̠͔̳̗̤͉̄ͅn̴̡̝̥̖͕̝̗̾̐̓̿͂̅̍͜ͅĉ̵̭͙̣̞̞̞͈̖̦̯͕̜̹̭͔̎͒͂̐̚ě̶̟̝̱͚̝̗̠̼͎̪̭͂̆̔̐͋̍̊̓͐͜͝͠!̸̧̝̲̖̪̣̣̝̳͖͆̋̓͘͜T̷̺͎̗̘̘͇̣͔̞̲̙͓̰̖͚̙͌h̵̡̢̭̤͚̻͈͔̩͛̅̍e̷̲̙͉̝̘̹̾̄̒̒͋͝͝ ̷͇̩̼̯̗̓̆̽͗̂ḥ̶̛͑̐̾̒͆̃̏̋͗̔̽̿͠ů̵̦̮̘̥̯͐ͅm̴̧̧͇̺̯̘̪͙̝̥̀̀ą̸͍͇͖̟̬̫̣͙̥̰̮̉͌̃̍̌͗̂͠n̵̰̫̙͔̪̞͈͖͖͈̖͂̐̈́̓̇͊̕s̴͇̹͈͈̜̯͚̈́ ̴̢̡̰̯̯̼̬̰͆̆́͑̾͛̏͗̄̍̑̇̄̓͂͛͠h̴̳̗̼͍͕͔͔̫̀͐̾̏͋̓̀̌̄̀͒̀̔̚͘a̴̢̡̜͍͙̖̲̣̣͔̙̭̝̖͐͆ͅv̵̢̨̺̭̞̯̋̚ȩ̵̢̧̛͎̦̟̫͍̫̘̌͋̈́̓̿̕̚͜ ̵̡̢̳̘̰̲̜̘̰̰̳͍̾̈́͋͒͝b̷̖̰̦̼̊̍̀r̶̛̺͚̙͓͚̼͙̰͐̒͌͘͠ą̸̨̟͕̻͖̹̰̯̥͉͙͇̌͑͂́̾̏̀̄̅͒͜͝ĩ̶̧̧̢̮̪̥͇̪͖̺̣̙̯̙͕͋̈́͑͛̂̽̈́͊̾̚̚͜ņ̵̰̙̬̗̞̲͍̩̔͗́w̶̧̛̹̼͉̠͕̉̋͌͌̍̾́̇͑͆̍a̸̡͔̩̝̭͖̮̝͓̭̘͖͊̆͌̾̀̍̾́̈s̵̡̧͓̘̜̫̈́̉̏̆̈́͑̋̒̇̌̈́̊͘̕̚͝h̴̗͇̻̪̀́̃̽͑͐͋̄̔͌ȩ̶̛̘̫̻̝̫͋̐̊̀̒̂ḑ̴̠̞͓̟̈́͂͊̓̏̚ ̵̧̗͔͙͙͕̯̠̮͈̻̀̽̋̃͊̿̏̂̎͆͆́͂̕͠͝͠ẙ̴͓̙̗͍̺͙̱͔͙͔͓̥̱̭̬̘͆͑̈͒͒̍͘̚̕o̸̹͍̫̱̟̎̍̓͆̾̓̕̚͝͠u̵̧̡͉̫̭̰̜̳̰̭͈͔̼͉̮̓̅̋̈́̐͒̀͆̓̐͐͘͠ ̸̧̢̣͈̬̟̪̭̪̮̟͆̇̀̋͆̿ͅa̸̢͇̣̮̤̼͋͑̀̿̿͒̽̐͝n̶͙͆̓̀̓͌̂̽͋̈́͗̾̓̂d̶̛̠̺͔̼̭̺̔ ̴̢̪̥̱͊͒̓͒́ý̶̛̯̹̠͕o̷̢̨͎̬͓̞̬͓̯̤͌̋̉͑̅͌͐ṵ̴̰̙̋͜ŗ̵̰̳̣̼͓̪̜͌́̇̎͋̿̐͌̈̃͐̍ ̸̢̛̱͉̞̬̩̋̾͛́͌̈́͗̔͘f̴̡͖͈̗̠̹̪̗͖̔e̶̤͔͖̳̪͇͖̫͋͗̄̉̂̽̆̊̓̆͆̉̓͒̒͛͠e̸̛̫̞̮̻̯̫b̸̡͙͕̙̉͒͗̾̈́̈́l̵̬͔̲̹͚̩̠̜͇̼̐̓̊̽̓̚͝ḙ̶̡͈̙̳̯̂͊͑̊́̔̾̚ ̴̡̖͇̥̘̟̲̙̟̞̖̹̪͖̩̎̑͂͑̑̂͠m̴̨̩̹̪̗̠̣̥͍̠͔̫͛ͅî̸̧̛̝͉̣̫̹̥̙̲̓͐̓̆̔͐͑̽͊̿͜n̷͖̻̏̓̆͋̈̔́͂̀͆͊̈́̕͠d̵̢̛̛̛̠̻̦͈̼͖̘͍͖̩̤̈́̊̂͐͌͂͐̌̾̂̓͠.̷͎̠̤̩̮̫͉͙͓̲̲́̃͗̀̏̾͗͆̔̋̀̇̔͛̚̕̕ ̷̡̨̢͔̩̳̳̬͉͍̟͕̈́̾̏̍͆̒̽̈́̒̐̾̇̀̊͗͠Ǟ̷͙͕͇̭̓l̸̢̛̮̬̖̫̳̘̣͇͛͌̒̏̚ḷ̶̢͍̞͇͉̰̯̘̦̙̤̜̘̪͔̏̿̆̉̈́͠ớ̶͙̮͇̄w̷͈̅̏̍̀͒̓̒͌̔̔̅́͋͝ ̶̡̨̺͎̺̩͚̙̳͇̺̤̗̣̻̐̑̒̀̓̃̍̾͋̂̑͝ḿ̴͇̟̩̠͕́̐́̈́͌̇̌̍̆̓̈̅̾́̉͘ȩ̵̨̦͙̬͔͈̜̣̦̯̇̆̎͊̅̑͛̈́ ̸̧̯̺͈͈̫̣̳̤͌́̊́̐̈̅͊t̸̩͕̦̪͎̝̫͐́̓̈́̔̎̀̀̔̎̋̅͆͐͘̕͠o̴͈͗̽̑́̌̌́̒̓̎͘͘̕͝ ̶̞͚̓̌͂ŗ̸̡̝͈̞̜͇͎̜̟̻̱̉͐̓̈͂̇͛̐̑́̄́͋͂͘ę̴͖͖̟͂̏͐̀̈́̒̍͐̆̏̆͒̕͠͝ḿ̸̡̭̰̬̲̮͍͕͕̫̳̦̖̥́̎̆̎̅̓̊͆́͘͝͝i̶̛̦̳̝͍̰̱̊͌͑̐̈́̍̉͐̈́͊̀̅́͝n̸̢̢̜̯̥͕̘͖͎̦͎̖̮͂͋́͐́d̶͖̗̮͚͓̜͎̖͛̿̊͂͊̎̾̓͐̍̓̽͑͜ ̵̧͈͕͚̤̗͉̮͖̝̲̰͚̳̥̼̐̚ͅy̷̢̧̡̲̰̻̲̣̫̾͐͐̀̒́̓͛̕̕̕õ̸̡̢̢̨̝͚̹̻̭̤͈̓u̸̯̬̪̪͓̩̙̣̱̙̽͌̐͊̕̕ ̵͙͔̯̪̮͍̤̻̪͔͇̜̱͈̈́́̄́͐̽͐́̊́̄̈́̓͌͘͘o̴̦̎̍̔͂̔̅͛̈́f̵̛̛̛̭͍̙̟̯̝̼̺̽́͊̀̒̒ ̴̨̨̭̫̦̼̳̘̫̰͍̻̣̹̣̹̬̆̌́̃́̔̓̄̽̐̐̚͠͝t̶̬̪̯̠̿͌̕ͅḩ̸̨͍̤̝̙̖̗͔̯̳̞̖̬͈͕̅͐͒̇̇̽̅͘e̷̻͓̓̉̎ ̸̪͉͊̎͊̅ṯ̶̫̩̜͚̯̫̰̰̹̹͈̄̈́̉r̸̦̬̲͕̪͉̼̜̳̈͝u̴̧͉̤͎̱̯͚̓̋̊͐͌̍̽̅́̕͝ť̵̛̖̝͓̬̥̘̝͈̈́͑͌̿̿̊͌̚͝h̴̲̮̳͔̮̙̦̳̣̠͚̠͖̮͇̅̊̑͛̂͗͒̈́͂̉̾̇̀͊̃̚͝!̸̨̢̨̘̦̱͉͙̘̰̀̒̾̍̆͆͂̀̃̎̈́̚̕ ̶͙̟̬̯̦͉̻̬̯̻̺̱͂̌̐̔͘̕͜͝W̸̧̩̝̲̜̑͗̂͗͜͜ë̴̢̛̛̛̩̺͎̝̜͚̞́̽̀̐̋͛̀͝'̷̨̝͔̘͉͚͊́̓́̽̈͐̓̇̆̀́̄̿r̵̙̣̠̼͈͎͌͂̔̍ȩ̴̨͓̳̭̫̰͈̟͔̲͚̱̂͒̔͌͐̈̋̐̅̔̽ ̵͙̻̱̳̭̻̙͊̉̋̔̃̀̀̅͌͐͌̑͐̈́́͠͝h̶̩̳̬͉̠̻̔̈́̽ẻ̵̢̧̨̡̧͙̞̙͚̯̫͈̮̙̲̘̓͗͑͊̈́̄͆͘͠ͅr̴̟̤̘̫̺̆ȩ̸̜̖̘͉̻̘̠͉̺̘̰̳͔̪̿̀͝ ̴̟̤͖̫͚̇̀̅̓̕͜͝t̵̝̠̲̰͔̺̣͚̾͋̈́̄̆͂̓͑ô̷͖̣̩̿͒̿́̊͌͛̏̈̚͝͝ ̷̡͕̖̣͚͖͚̜̤̟̖̞̀̈́͂͋͝s̴̨̪̭̼̺̔̎͛̋͒̑͐̇̔̆̐̽́̊́̚͝a̴̟̱̻͔̽̓͋̾v̴̝̮͎̯̼͓̣͓͖͈͙̙͍̤̌̋̊̈́͒̇̈́̈́͝ḛ̸̛̛̯̙̤͈̼̠͙̖̪̰̮̩̽̀̓͂̐͌̈́̾͛͊̌̕̚͠ ̷̗̩͓̬̹̟͎͂́̅̈͌͌͗̀̊͘͠͝ͅţ̶̭̜̬̙͔͚̬͈̑́͌͆̀͗̍̑̃̀̇͋̕͠ͅh̶̢̢͖͖̥̻̱̣͕̯̺͙̫̊̑̒̃̅͝ȅ̷̢̙̮̞͎͖͂͂͒́̌͊̓̔̓̎̑̓̚ͅ ̵̧̧̰̤̫̱̮͎͍͙͈̭͎̯̜͒̏̊͋̈́̀̈̄́̐̓̉́̃͘h̴̬͖̹̟͆̃̌̐͊͊̇̉̀͊̈́ͅu̸̧̡̨̧̱̝̜̯̘̬̘̬̯̭̩̼͒̅͌̿͊͆̋́͛͂̄̽̀͝͝͝m̸̨̡̬̩̮̬̟̙̮̭̯͓͂̾̎̐̾̌̒͑͘̕͠͝͠ͅͅą̶̡̛̣̻͕̯̫̬̤͚̹͈͎̬̲̝͈̌̓̂̄͆̽̍́̅͘n̷̡̬͎͔̠͈̲̘͍̪̙͖͌͊͆͜s̴̨̡̨̮͍͖̎̽̓͗͗́͘͝ ̷̨̢̛͈̯̼̟̦͔̱̦͎͔́͌̏̒̇̄̏͌̎͜f̸̧̡̬̯͕͇͚̝͇̦͉͉̹̦̯̯̍̈́̽̽̋͜r̴̨̢̫̱̔͌͑̑̊̌̐ơ̶̡̗̗̋̂̊̓́̄̏̓͂̈́̋̇̆͆͝ͅm̵͎̪̝̠̬̭̰̦͕̹̣͙̩͑̌͋̋͠͝ ̷̧͖̬̥͎̀́̔̐̀͛̑̈́͊͝ͅt̵̮͔̣̍̾͂̓͒͐͑̄͆͊̇̐͘h̷̨̨̩̝̞̖̱̄̏̑̌̚è̴̟̗̘̈́ͅi̸̫̖̘̤̠̘̟͆͝r̴̢͙͚̗̞͎̜͍̰̱͗̆̐̈́͑̒̕͝ ̶̡̢͇͈̩̩̺͚͉̂̆õ̶̢͙̻̭̰̗͎̙̱͊͂̆̑́̂͆̌̀́̉͘ͅw̶̧̛͍̺͗̅̉̆̀͗͑̾̒̅̏̒̚͘͝ņ̵̖͇͙͎̤̦͇̹̻̩͓͎̖̔̋͛͒̆͂̏͗͜͝ ̵͍̱͎̱̩̣͔͋̐͋͑͑̆̈͠͝ͅd̴͈͛̾͆͛̀̑̈́̅̅̀̒̕̕̕͝è̵̢͓̣̘̲̘͔̮̖͓͓̗͍̥͙̍̒͒̌̒̎ͅm̸̙͓̱̰̯̬͉̯̥͚̝̠͔̏͆̀̽̈̓͊͊̉̀̋͗̅̕͝í̷͈̠͚̣̖̪̦̥̓s̸̡̢̪̝͈̙̣͓̜̳̭̲͙̔́̈́̎͘͜͜͝ẹ̶̡̺̪̜̓͋̓̓̽͛̓̓̊͋͘.̷̧̲̥̰̤̳͔͉͔̈́͂̀̐̎̈́̈́͗͂͑̆̃ ̷̨̻̩̜͙̟̝̟̘̫͇̄̎̃͛͆̆̊́̊̉͆̓̓͝͠W̴̘̻͆̐̀͒̈́̒͌̔͐̓͒̍̀̃̈ë̷̡̨̝͈̳̺̝͙͉͙͉̹̖̤͚́̋ ̴̫̼̹̼̗̾̀̏̏̓̑͊̄̅͌̍̚͘͜͝ơ̴͕͔͗̈́f̴̜̯̜͔̘̳̺̲̟̬̘̣̩̖͚̜͚̈́̓̂́͒͆͑̇̿͝f̷̲̪͕̘̩̩̂̍̓̿̌ͅȩ̸̗͕̫͈͖̻̰̥̦̱̼̗̜̠̈͐̍̊̎̊̑̾̈̽̅͊̇͋̏̎̐r̷̙̻̞̲͈̼̬͕͉͎̲̟̮̮̦͖͂̑́̈͐͗́̏͜ ̵̧̨̤̗̣͈̻̫̯̮͋ṣ̴̡̧̘͖͇̤͓̟̙͋̌̎̌̓͂̈́̀̿̈́̏̍̏͒͊̑ȧ̴̼͑̀͑͋̎̔̀̕̚͘̕l̷̪̺̲̪̥̫͉͍̖̆͊͌͠v̵̢̬̦̪̜̖̰̭̫̲̙̫̦͕̫̭͕̒̀̀͐́̍͗̓ä̵̯́̿̏̓̒̀̏͆̋̇̋̔ţ̵̩͔̣̺̮̹͌̉̋̔͂̂͂̋̿̈̉͒ĩ̶̧͎̥̪͓͖̬̳͖̌̇̀̏̄͝ơ̸̪̰̣̑̔̑́͋̄͂͒̅̍̉n̴̡̡̡̨̛̼̩͍̫̩͔̟͔̘̝̼͋̓̈́̄̓̓̉͜͜͝͝.̶̨̯̼͎͈̫̻̩̟̹̲̟̮͋͒͑͊̈̽̚͝ ̴̻̤͔̼̙̞̘͈̞̯̫̞̖̣̥̀́̾̊͛̉̋̕͝Y̷͎̪̮̥̎̂õ̴̧̝̞̰͕̞̹̜͓͖̀̋̈́̐̈͐͋̿̂̐͘͝u̴̧̨̡̳̘̠̼͙̰͔̰̝͕̣̎̎͑́ ̶̡̡̡̣͙̮̰̯̗͔͕̗̓̓̾̓̾͛̔̍̾̐̚͝d̵̢̙͇͖͖̤̺̈̌͒̀̀͐̈́ͅȩ̸͎͉̪͖̔͆̈́́̑̃̈́͆͘f̶̡͚̗̱͈̜̹̪̈̾͂͛̈́̅͂̾̒̅͆̏̑̄͊ͅĕ̴̛̟͙̬̘̜́̓ǎ̴̛̞̏̈̃̆ţ̷͓̠͚̝̦̩̖̭̩̮̯̼͗̀͐ȩ̴̨͓̥̺̘͈̖̟̫̗͓͎̦̹̙̑̀͑͂̏̑̈́̈́̃̐͝ḑ̴̡̜̙͍͖̪͛̀̇̅͌͑̈́̽̒͘͝͝ ̷̥̞̪̤͚̪̞̞̻̺́͒̀̄̔͐̉́̔̿̐̅͗̄̈́̓̈́u̴̟̅̋̂̈̏̂̀̀͊̈́͊̓̉̄́͝s̵̡̤̖̞̫̦̟̭͌̒,̴̢̨̺̘̥̬̖̩̰̔͊͝ ̸̭̩͖̐̓̀̈́͆̈́̊̔̂͐͗̅̅͛̅̕b̸̨̰̬̩̰̱̭͔͕͌̋͌͊͆̿̏̌͛̄̔̅͝ͅu̵̟͆̓͑̓ţ̴̛̝̠̺̣̫͙̘̪͉̫͋̐͒̄̅̓̉̐̑͗͑͛̚͝ ̶̛͙̗͖̱͛͋͗̀̽́̊̄̈́̆̉̚t̷̨̥̱̩̮̖̱̠͆̋̀̌̾͊́͌̃̽̃́̚h̷̪̤̯͉͍̹̞̪̲̗̹̝͐̏̈́̒́͛̉̕͠͠è̷̲̖͓͍ ̸̙͚͂̑̋̀́̉̽̚̚͠B̸̨̟̻̟̯͓̈͌̄͋̈͑̆̓̂̊̂͘͠͠l̸̡̨̡̛̲̦̯͇̙͔̳̥̆̾̇̏̿̚͜͝͝ą̷̛͔͉̼̭̩̗̫̥̣̗̙̓͐̊͆͂̽̊͋̑̎͐̏͠ͅç̸̗̞̺̣̩̟͍͉̪̩̺̋͋̐͜ḱ̶̢͓͔͖̔͋̎̌́̆̀͘̚͝͠ͅ ̵̧͍͎͉̞̬̮̠̋̊͛̀Ả̵̡̳̬̻͕̻͓̜͕̯̳̻̾̈́̀̏̕ŗ̸̧̡̺̬̝͚͔͔͖̳̦̣̮̼͛̀̋̈̓̆̾̉m̴̫͉̟̿̓̋̎́̄͐̂̽̌̑̍͐͝ş̷̛͎͎͖͈̱̝̫̞̘̯̺̗̥͈̦̳̒̋͋̃͋̓̇̓̋̒͂̓̈̉̇͘ ̸̡̨̡̙̣͈̩̖̞͈̙͇̲̰̱͛̐̊ľ̵̛̰͖͒̒̈́͘͝͝i̶̢̲̗̦̪̰̦̹̜͖͕̖̦͓͗̂̈́̊͜v̴̢͖̦̯̠͔̭̦͔͙͍̳̦͊̓̏e̶̫̟͊͌͑̉̄̆̋̾͗̕͜͝͠ ̵̞̟̭͍̯̌͂̈́͐͑̃́͒́͠o̵̢̟̣̲͖̫͖̭͆̀́͋̐̏̓̊̏ͅn̸̰̻̗̥̭̜͚̩͈̩̂̔̿̔͌̾̃̈́̔̅̆́͆́̚̚͠.̸̨̢̠̻̮̀͑͑ ̶̧̛̞̼̊̊̈́͋͐̑̒̿̾͛͂͌͝Ă̸̛͖͕͈̭̹̪͉̼̬̓̉̿̑̀̋̍̍̍n̷͆ͅd̶̠͍͚̬̍͌̐͆̍́̎̒̈̑̃̔̕ ̶̡̢̨̠̳̲̍̅͜͝͠ͅt̶̛̲̖̋͒̒̑̓h̴̛̺̮̰̬̲̼͍̝̲̘̪̩̹̣͖̭̭̓́͒́̈́͊͛i̶̛̝͕̰̞̻̾̃̓͛̍̾̿͝s̵̛̼͕͚̼̝͇̈́̏̽͛͐̾͜͝͝ ̴̢͓̖̰̙͙̙͕͚͇̘͖̬̜͒̊̔̈́̈͗̋̽̆̋̈̉̚͜͠ͅt̴̢͎̫̲͙̝̲̘̻͇̥̆͐͛̉̊͒̈́̋̚ͅȩ̵̧̮͔̭͉̻̐̅̄ͅm̵͖̮̺͇̉̐́̇͒p̷͚̯̬̰͙̝̲̹̑̔͝o̴̰̹͕͍̻̥̹̫͖̱̙͍̺̎̀̊̋́͗̾̚͜͜͝͠ṟ̵̡̡̪̗̙̗̞̰̮̳̰͚̖̮̏̽̾͛̀͗͂́͆̋͗͠͝a̸̩̹̪͔̝̳̝̘̍̒͜ľ̸̢̛̻̻̺̭͕͇̣̤̆̇̐̋͌́̆́̚͝ ̵̡̢̧̧̟̱̙̥̥̯̹̟̐͒̎̈́̏͒͑͋̎̄̇͋͘͠a̵̟̩̳̞̣͇̘͍̟͔̋̍͂͌̋̂̂͂̉̎͆̓̂͝͝ń̴͈̀̎͋͜o̵̡̨̢̧̢̠̺̰͇͎͎̲̮̻͙̣̞̎͆͝m̵̧͉̤̟̟̲̜̜͚̉̍͛̋̋̈́͒́̿̀̃̊̾̏͜ͅa̵̧̯̱͚̩̪̬̭̣͉̱͕̾̅̋ḻ̸̨̖̺̦͇̭̘̹̲͔̱̐͌̈́̈̒́̎͂̑y̶̘͖̩̝̐́̍͑̈̎̕͘ ̴̧̛͈̘̩̳͎̦̤͋͑́̑̃̀͒̈́͋̌̊̀h̵͙̤̔̆͝ͅa̷̧̧͓̟̤̯̯͇̣͐̌̐̑̌͗̅̓̕s̴̢̥̥̝̼̞͈̓͠ ̸̡̢̮̻̲͖̺͙̼̹̪̈͆́̑̇́͘ą̴̧̙̣̹̙̫͍̲́̈̉͂̔̅̄̇c̷̼͚̲̹͕̥̙͚̪̣̆ͅc̵̲̳͈͔̙͓̀̽ȩ̸̛͚̪̱̦͆̊̆̀̐̔̆̓̈́̋̉̍͆͋̚l̷̡̨̡̛̲̯̳̅͑e̴̯̥̪̩̙͚̺͔̗̼͊̾̎͛͗̈̆̉̎̈́͠ͅr̷͕̳̤̠̋̈́͋̄̿͒̑̍̒̽́̎̕͝ä̶̢̩͙̙̠̘͉̆̚͜t̴̛̬̙̖͉͆͌̓̈́͗̆͑̾͗̀͝͝ȩ̸͔͚͚̜̈́̀̔̓͐̍͗͊͐̚͝͝͝ḑ̷̨͉̤̗̟͍͔̥̳͇̇̇̈̀̑͛̅͗̈́̆̈̾̚͜͝ͅ ̷̲̗̞̲̪͍̖̣̗͍͔͓̲̺͚͌̿̅ͅm̷̲̣͍̈̋ÿ̷̛̠̖͉̜͍̏̇̈͗̏̿͗̚̚ ̵͇̣̖͔͉͎͇̐̏̄́̀p̴̯̲̹̦̈́͂̆͗̅̄̽̐̆͛l̷̢̪͎͎̥̰̬͖̇̕a̵̘̟͍̣̠̥̖̞̫̹̭͐̓̒̆̎̈̒̎̋͒̐̃̈́͂͜͝͝͝n̷͇͔̩̰̝̩̗̹̬̘͚̄͆̌̋̅̄ͅś̵̡͙̲̪̲̻̩͍̤̭͝ ̸̦̯̱̉̍̽͂͐ţ̷̲̗͔̤̗̺̦̲̩͓̼͇̄̀̉̈́́̀͒̉̊̍͝͠ȍ̴̲̎͒̐͑̓̊̒̈̊͋̿̏́̂̌̕ͅ ̵̲̱͖̂̀̆̀̏͝r̶͔̖̩͈͚̯͓̄́̎̎͘e̵̢̨̛̥̱͙̼̞͖͇͐͒̅̓̇̓͌̍̅̓̈̕͘̚͠v̴̧̦̹̣̰͕̝̯̜̙̋͋̌̌͛̾̆́́́͋̕͠ȉ̶̧̢̢̧̥̖͕̰̥͖̳̜̼͎̣͉́͐͑͑̌̋͒͒̕͠͝v̶̧̦̰͕̼̤̫̲̺̭̤͇̙̺̣̮̉͜ḝ̵̠̹͉͈̰̬̖̟͍͎̯͑͑̄̿͠ͅ ̵̨͓̯͇̫͎̥̓̓̉ḿ̸̨̨͈͂̕ỳ̷͔͎͙̟̠̹̫͎̩̗͉̽͐̊̀͋̉̿̊͝ͅ ̴̟̞̹̖̪͓̭̰̓̑̅̽̒̏̅̆͋̑͠f̷͉̼͍̠̤̥͓͇͚̘͎̝̭̦̘̋̀́̑͜͜o̶̡̪͓̟͍̠̻͇̜̞͙̜̦̅͂̍́̈́͂r̴̡̛̖͍͓̣̣̭͖̼͚͙̱̉̋̓̃̓͋̕͜ͅc̶̢̧̨̫̫͈̗̫̠͊̂͂̐̉̽̂̿̋͆̎ẻ̷̛͍̮̯̦̿́͆̐͊s̴̢̡̮͚͚̮̩̫̠͔͑̈́̓̆̐́͠ ̷̧̨̹͎̼̲͖̘̼̞̜̗͕̟͖͆å̸̡̙͉̭̳̮̹̮̤͚̲̙͚̰͙͉͊͐̈́̃̍͛ń̵̝͉̗̣̫̜͓̜̾͆̒̌͐ͅͅḑ̶͕̯̫͖̝͖͇̠͍̲͊̋͒͆̑̓̀̃̿͛͆̍͜͠͝ͅͅ ̸̘͖͚̼͔̺̞͔̽̒̂͆̏̊̽̊͝c̵̤̮͓͍̫͖̩̯̟̥͖͓̦͚͍̬͍̈́̉͊̂̉͋̎o̶̡͓̲̻̟̗̮̝̱̺̺̠̔n̷̨̧̡̧̛̝̠͈͚̘̖̬̞̗͙͊̈́̌͆͆̿̊̾̕̕͝͠͝s̸̢̡̼̼̠̼͆́̈̿̊̑̀͑̒ű̸̡̪͎͖͉̰̯̬͕̞͔͖͙̹̙̪̯̊̈́͑͆͐̔̆̂͐͘͝m̸̼͉̜̑̈͑̾e̶̛̛̙̝̯̋̊̓͌̎̊̏̇̑̏̕ ̴̨̝̰̖̙͚̼̞͔̤̺̉̽̆ͅt̷͉͌ḩ̸̡͔͈̩̯͎͖̲̟̙̭͎̈̽̆̇͂͗̊̆̚ę̴̛̣̥̠͍̞͖͖̲̖͚̯̼̞̦͔̘̋̂̃̂̓̄̄͋̅́͑̐͛͘͠ ̷̛̺̼̹͇̭̲̭̪̠̱͈̍̇w̵̢̛̙̺̮̮̝̲̤̤̮̥̺̥̳̤̞̫͗̾̋̏̀̋͆̋̈́̈́̑͝ơ̸̡̨̥̩̖̖̹̙̻͚̳͚̰̊̈́͋̔͋̀͒̌͆͐͑͂̓̈́̕͠ŗ̶̛̼͇̝̙͓̻̻̬̘̣̺̗̱̰̾͗͌̽͗́͒̔̓͐̎͐̌̉͘͜͜l̷̯̟͕̭̉̀̿͂͛͂̆̂͆͘̕d̵̡̝͈͙̼̠̼̭̝̠͔͎̤͍̃̾̐̓̔̈́͋͆͛͂̉̈́͘͠͝.̴̡̯͕͔̘̲̜͆̉̊̂̌͂̇͗̅͜͝͠ ̸̢͈͙̾̈́̽̉̀̀̀͆̈͐͗̀̅͠͝͠͝Y̶̡͙̖͕̯̦̱͇̘͎̹̲̪̞̜̿͌̃ǫ̵̛̛̛̘̫̬̥̗̗̠̙̐͌̌͐̋́̈́̑̈̒̎̚ų̶̬̰̼͚̩͗̈́̇̈́̏̈͝ ̸̛̦̳͓̫̘͎̾̅͑̇̈́͂͊͗̍̀̆̚̚͜͠͝a̶̢̼͎̣̱̦̰̱͎̻͙͈͖̤͑̄͜͜͠r̶̩̭̃̒̑̈͐̒̐̐̎̅̊̑̍͛̕̚͠ê̴̢̧͔̤̪͎͉̥͖̟̻̱̼̓́ ̴̝̓ņ̸̥̠͓̲̥͋͑̍́͌̉̄͂̅́ǫ̴̬̘̦̟̙̮̬͕̼̫̘̯̏̉̃̑͛̑͋̚̚͝t̴̖͍̩̑͑̈́̈́̕͝ ̵͓̬͇̥̬̼͙̼̜͖̳͍̳̱̦̃͐͋͂͛̂͛͌̎̅̒̒͐͜͠r̷̨̪̖̲̫̠̬̤̺̜̙̝͓̞̙̱̐͑̾̄̅ẹ̴̡̭͈͎̭̫̤͆͋ͅa̸͈̙̰̦͐́͗̈́́̃̎̐̒̍͐̕͜͝͝d̸̡̬͙̥̦̟̞̱̦̓y̶̥̏̉ ̷̨̝͓̋͜y̵̧̡̨̛͎͔̻̤̣̗̬̹̬͙̗̒̇̆̋͒̋̈́̾̾̀͘ë̶̛̳̦̗̤̳́̎̆̌̆̃͊̑͆̾̓̕̕ṱ̷̨̡̢̧͕͉̠̼͖̘͍̻̱̞̥́͆̅̓͗̆̇̔͑͂́̾̚͠.̶̧̹̻͖̱͎̤͈͉̭̺̲͆̿̊͌̄̓̚͠͝ ̸̛̛͇̮́̎̾́̎̃͆̓́̿̈W̸̲͔͇̱͚̻͇̯͊̀̊͂̂͠͝e̴̲̝͔̘̩̽̈̊́̀̎̽̽̈͊̇̌͒̕ ̴̢̝̗̯͕͍͖̳̺̣̠̙̘̀̍̌a̶̢̧̝̤͔̼̼̞͍̜̾͌̈́͛̿̅̃̕͝͝ͅͅr̷̨̧̡̠͎̖̹̬̺̭̫̱͐͆͛́̆ͅȩ̴̨̺̩͈̘͓͔̣̹͓̔̀̊͌͂̕͝ ̵̨̤̭̞͚̖͚͔̯͚̗̠͍͂ͅņ̷̞͖͎̓̕o̷̹̒̀́̽̿́͘͠͝t̴͇̩̥̬̻̞̱̺̙͚̱̍̃̉̅̎̔̀̀͛̀͝͠͠ͅ ̸̞̲̪͙̠̙̄͗͑̚ŗ̶̙̪͎͇̻͚͚͚̩̟̫̹̫͂̐͜e̸͓̪̬̹̣̹͈̊́̀̅̎a̵̢̬̝̪̠͉̫̳̅͋̀͛͗͠ḍ̷̨̳̹̩̤͖͒̍̐̚y̴̢̻̦̘̺̖̼̤͈̹͓͈̗̲͕͒͒̐̃̓̉̿̃̉́ͅ ̷̫͌͋̈́̈̏͘͝͝ŷ̴̧͖̘̜͑̌̐̈́̇́̍̔̈́̊̀͗͐͋͜͠͝ͅe̵̢̟͍͍̲͈͔̠̮͍̱̔̆̔́̒̂̈́͊̔̄ͅt̷̻͛̂̓̂͌̏͜͠.̸̡̩͇͇̺̮̙͎͖̗̗̠̪͆͑͊̂͑̓̽̅̀͊́̋͘̚͠ͅ ̷̡̱̥͔͓̟̥͚͓̱͇̰̝̖̣̭̑̀́̇͋́̇̊͐̚͜O̴̧͔̙̳̺͎̱̿̉͊̌̈́n̴̡͈̜̥̲̘͕̼̫̱̞̱͖̗͉̅͆́̾̉̈́͛͐̈́͋̔̿̚͜c̷̢̛̞̦̠̱̺͇̖̤͖̹̮̈́͑͊̿̊͜e̵̢̹̩͍̘̬̟̟̝͔̮̜̙̮̠̙̞͂̀̒̆̑̓̀̾̊ ̶̗̾y̷̨̩̟̲̺̱̰̬̜͚͎̺̘͎̪̘̓̀̐̑͊̈́̎̍̒̽̽́̚͝o̴̫͖͚̦̤͒̑̓̎u̸̡͖̩̹̩̥͔͒̓͐̽͒̊̃̓͆̋̇̉̍͊̊͘ ̶̡̛̗̫͕̞͖̻̝͖̯̦̗̯̳̲̇̓͒̋̓̐̋͋́̍̊̌͌̀h̷̢̨̖̹̙̹͖͇̯̪͒̃̋͜ą̶̣͔̞̻͔͕̞̰͔̪̖̪̔̈̉̚͠v̵̨̙̳͙͓̟̫̻̟̟̤͎͐̎̉͐̑̍͐̊̎̀̀̓͛̈́̕͜͝ͅe̶̢̧̱̖̯̮̲̦̱̙̣͉̠̤͔͔̼͐̈́̄̒͂̈́̈́̈́͋ ̷̦̱͎͓͉̅̊͂̑͌̎̓̾͒̆͑̐͆̕͝b̸͕̞͎͍̝̣̱̊̇̂̑͆̊̔̓̏̅̚͘̚e̸̢̦̣̱͔̙͗͐̅̑̿e̷͉͙̦̝͈̗͔͎̜̭̪̐̎̈́̐͐͛͆̌̃̃̀́̇̆͆͌͝ǹ̵̻̪͓̓̈́͝ ̵̭̹͈͚̪̙̺͚͚̟̉p̵̺̜̲͎̈́̑̉͛̌̌̈ͅe̷̡̺̞̩͇̤͈̙̜̝̤̙̦̰̓̎͒̏̅ŗ̸̨̘̬͓̮̈́̀̐̒͌͊́͆͐̄̆̚͝ͅf̶̛̪͔̜̜̣͛͋̈́͛́͛̓̒̑̔͋̏͝é̷̢̨̹̠̬͔̱̭̞̀͛c̶̨̡̢̺̮̜̈́̿̑̆͐̈́̊͗͛̍̒̋̒͜t̶̜͓̬̀͗̀͂̍̎̽̆͘̚͝ẻ̴̩͈̳̠͔̦͖̻̳̥̪̩͈̝͉̫̠̄̆̈́̈́͑̕d̴̨̡̢̛̩̭̞̻̺͖͊̓̿̒̿́̔͒͂̽͛̚͠,̴̡̛̘̮̹̥̥͍͍̳̺̗̈́̎͛̓͐͠ ̸̡̛̝̊͗̃̃́́̌̉͑t̵̢̘̲̗̣͖̞̯̯̀̇̽̑̐h̶̤̟̊̃̂̑̋̌́̉̈́̊͘͘͝e̴͉͑͒̓̏n̶̡̺̥͖͚̹͔͙̎͛́̉͛͘ ̵̨̡̮͙̲̳̍͐͂͑̐̎͋͝͝w̷̛̫̜̪̎̾̈̉̔̈́̒͋͝ͅe̴̡̧̛̫̗̦̥̪͖̲͓̤̠̱̟͐̈́̃̆̐̒͗ ̸̛̠͎̻̦͖̊̄̀̓͐͛͗̈́̕͠ͅw̸̧̡̛̘̱͈͙͔̠̉̆͌̎̒̇̂̍̽̈́̂̏̈́͐̚ͅĭ̸̛̘̍̊̀̀̅̉͛̊͒̎͌́̓̚l̷͎̠͚̝̫̙̙̥̝͎̯̪̖͙̺̘̘̓͐̈̿̌͛͂̿̈́̈́͗͌͘͘͠͝ḷ̵̡̢̨̢̡͉̣̱̮͔̹͈̾̓̓ ̶̢̡̡̬̺̼͈͈͎̖̩̗̮̮͍̘͗̈̓̿̒̿̚͜h̴̢͍̰͉̭̟̞͖̻̅̀͋̿͌͂̀̉̍͠͠a̷̙̳̝̱͒́̊̇́͠v̷̢͉͇̀̈́̽̐̊͌̅͋̀̏̍̈́͐̆͊̚ế̷̛̟̭͙̮̻̦̮͓͉̘̮͉̋̏͊̏̈́̅̆͜͠ ̸̞͚̱̝̳̈́͐̓͂̀́̾̇͗̕͘͝͝ỏ̴̡̢̧̺͔͖̝̬̳̮͔́͗͜ư̷̪̗̿̉͊̾̈́̽̌̕͝r̸̛̪͈͎̈̈̏̈́̑̓̋́̈͆̒̀̽͛͜ ̸͖̘͔̤̦̣̟̙̒̃̃́͂̈́̎͝r̶̝͚̹̩̖̩̳̱̖͍̤͒̆͆͊̌̓͛͒̚͝ͅe̸̢̢̧̢̫̲̣̹͈̯̲͇͒̑͋̿̄̍̀̌̉͐̈̂͝͝c̸̡̧̼̭̭̺̝̜͚̮̗͚̠̹̘͍̾̾̈́̐͑̃͆̏͊̆̓͝k̷̦͈̟̟̖͙̣̜̻͓͙͍̹͇̣͛̔ͅo̷̡̻̱̹̙̞͕̭̮͍̤̱͎̐̕ṋ̷̋͑̐̀̊̈́̐̔̈́̃̅͂̈́̔͝i̴͚̝͋̎͑͌͒̄̃̇͝͝n̶̡̥͉̬̼̣̼̺̘͔̍̀̏̈́̈́͑͊̀̈̓̐̕̚͘͝ġ̸̡̡̱̮͉̪͍̝͔͚̝̎̏̓͊̆̒̓͂̃̉̄̄̕͜͠͠͝ͅ.̴̩̲̪͔̜̠͍͔͉̟̰̳̀̿̐̓́̄͂̑̔̃̎̇́̍͘Ţ̷̧̡͔̠̱̭̻̜͈̺͖̣̏͜ḧ̶̨̧̘̀̃̓̍͛̄͗̽̏͠͝͝ͅḛ̶͎͇̮̝̣̗͐͐̾̈́͆͂͆͂̒̾̿̇͆͝ ̸̧͎̫̺̞̝̭̼̲̫̙͔͇̰͒p̴̡̧͈̦̠̩͇͔̰̟̭̫̩̳̼͌͂ͅŗ̵̛̛̝͙͈͈̯̫̥̞͈̥͇̎̑͂̒̏̃̐̊̉̀́̂͠ǫ̸̛̠̙̦̠͇̈́̕m̸̧̺͓͔͍̩͉͈͈͉̫͕͈̹͂̽́͑̈i̶̦̒̾̊̋͊͌̋͂̓́̄͊̓̕̕͠s̴̨̉̂͌̅̀̅̕͝͝e̴̛̤̱̋̍̽͗́͐d̸̨̪̼̃͛͗͌̏̽͆͑̔͛͝͝͠ ̷̛̠͗̅͗̈͐̃̂̂̐̏̉̃̚͠ţ̶̡͓̣̫̗̖͖̬͚̠̮͈̗͕̀̿̋̚͝i̷̢̿̔̾̓̒̎̈́̕̕͘ͅṁ̴̡̧̝̱̦͙̗͉̭̠͓͖͎̫̣ͅe̵̥̝͖̖̩̟̗͋͊̽̇̔ ̸̲̥̻̙̊̄͋̾í̸̡̦͖̗̝̣̹͈̜͎̮̣͓͑́̈́̿́́͊͊̄͘s̴̢͙͈͋̄ ̷̥̞͑̀̿́̍͗̈́͛̇́̌́̚̕͠ṇ̴̢̡̡̛̘̲͙͈̤͔̮̣͓̮͆͐̋͆͆̔͜͜͝i̸͓͉̤̗̞̼̺̎̄̂̈́̏̓̂̀̃̀͘ğ̷̙̪̭͚̬̣͍͓̼̹͛̅̎ͅh̵͍͇͉͈̙̤̦̖̼̻̯̟̓̍̓̀̄̀̏̒̽͂͜ ̷̡̻̪̞̝̥̼͎̞̏̉͗u̸̡͖̝͓͖̠̥͋́͑͛̋̂̎̔͋͐̇̈́̆̃̕͜p̷̩̀̉̌͐̋́̎̕o̶̫̦̍̆̈́̂̈́͂͌͐̈́͒̈́͌̄̀̅͠n̷͎̙̓ ̷̧̧̢̛͎̫͎͔͈̊̔̎̾͌̉̓̊̌͋͘͘͝ͅu̵̡̯̖̗͔̓̂̄̎̽̌̂̇͋̑̈́͛͜͠͝͠s̴̛̝͉̞̞͓̎͐͐̾̄̆̊̐̒͆̃͛̂̚,̵̧̢̢̲̺͉̝̥̟̣̝͖͈̱̤̾ ̷̗̖̹̺̞̾̈́͂͐̑̏̈́͘̕͜S̵̘̫̜͎̳̲̮̜̎͑͛͌̌͋̐̇͊̔̓̊͜h̵̡̪̰̩̥̗͉̣̻̹̬̬̹́̌͌̆̇̈́̒͠a̶̧̦̯͙̬̪̗̐͊̎̉͋̂́͠d̴̬̫̰̞̳̪͇̟̜̩̹͓̺̲̿̀̓̈́̃̊̈́͆͌̅̌̔̕ơ̸̰̝̲͉͎̻͙̗̭̯̺͍̞̠̳̖̇̾́̀́͂̅͒͑͌̋͆͠ͅw̴̢̨͖̜̺̟̙̠̹͉̯̥̳̘̦̔̂͂̃̽̆̋̈̾͊̾̍́̕͠ͅ.̶̨̭͎̻̞̏̊̋̅́́ͅ ̷̨̦̗̭̋̽S̵̙̖̼̱̥̖͗̀͒̋̋ö̵̢̲̼͎̞̩̟̲̰̓͆̋́͆̑̐̿̂ͅo̶͙̠͈̠̘͉̘̻̤̺͓͉͔̹̗̅͑̑͆́͛̇͘͜͠͝n̸̙͙̮̜̪͙̽̐̈́́͗̽̋͊̕͝,̸̡̨̮̟̳̙̲̗̑͋̒͒̾̓̾͗̀̕ ̸̧̖̟̙̠̖̓̂̇͛̑̍̐́̾̉̂̅̎̓̌ÿ̴̛̹͚̥̥́͛͒̉͑͛͆̈̉̿̔̚͘͜ờ̷̳͆́̇̈́̃͘ủ̷̢̪͎̗̺͍̜̯͙̙̽̍̏͆̍̎̇̆͗̐̕͜ ̵̢̯̤̣̖̭̗̫̠̟͇̞̜͎̜̘̺̈̅̇̇̈͗͋̋̂́̐͌̑͘͝w̵̡̛͕͓̱͍͚̙̭̮͖̘̮i̴̢̛͓̝͚̫͈̻͕̠̥̜̦̙͖̟͋̊l̴̼̽́̾̉l̶̡̳̱̠̬̜͍̗͇̄̋̎͆͐̈́̉͊̒̓̾̕͘͝͝ ̷̡̢̛͇͕͉̤͕̜̺͍̖̻̰̣̖̉̉̃͐̍͋̋b̸̢̧͈̥͎̱̭͎̒̐̀͜ë̶̮̲͎͈͔̣̠͊̾͑̏̈́͊̀̂͌̕̚͠ ̶̧͔̠̪̮̙̼̯̣̖͎̫̎̅́̐͊m̸̥̬͕̱̓͋͂̈́̈̓̅͝i̴̹̓n̷̖̙̎ḗ̴̡̥̝͍̰̮̳̿͑͝.̶̛̩͆̄̑̓̅͗̈́͝ ̴̢͕͓͓̭̒͑̎͆̀̐͊̆́̄̒̚͝͝Ǧ̸̤̣͐̿̿̉̏̈̽͝͝͝e̴̡̢̥̩͚̥̳̯͗͒r̴̨̛͓̞̳̦̤͍͎̅̽͑̀̀̄͂͛̒͗͌̏̕ͅͅá̷̡̳͉͚̳̤̥͍̤̩͖̙̙̂̆͛͑͛͂̆͂͊̔̿̅͋̑̈́ļ̴̱͖͚̠͔͖̦̘͓͍̄d̶̢̧͎̪̘̝͙̓́̀ ̶̠͕̟͖̇̏͝m̴̛͙̺̞̫̱͓̹̥͖̮̯̗̥̓̅̉̇̋̐̉̃̍̆̿̅̂͒̿͘͜a̷̡̗͈͎̠̫͎̤͈̪̘̝̰̖̓̈́̈́́̒̑́͊̈̊̊̊͛͋ͅy̷̨̤͖̙͓͚͖̙͉̯̟͖̞̟̺̏̄̀̅̽̓͊̎͜͝ ̵̛̠͒͌̌̈͌̂͑̒͐̾̚h̶͕͙͖̮͓̻̀̆̄͋ȧ̵̢̧̼͓̜̜̻̗̇̏̎̕͜v̸̧̧͓̳̗̻̜̱̺̩̲͎̮̳̮̀̔̓̒̑̋̓̍̍̇̈́͒̂̈́͝ȇ̵̫͙̼̤̘̩̱̙̺͂͂̅̆̇̏͜ ̴̡͉̙̲̹̻̦̍̄̑̓̔̎͘͝g̸̨̧̢͈̥̬̩̜̙̗̖͉̘͋̈́̈͐͘͝i̴̢̢͉̻̘̖̞̥̳̳̠͑͆̿̓̎̕v̷̧̨̖̞̹̤͙̩̳̱͚̭͓͎͎̪̏̿̊͌̃̌͛̆̄̍̈̋̾ě̵̢̫̩̗͍̰͇̜̣̫̭̺̪̹̭͑̌̎̆̈́̇̌̏̇͑̒̋̈́̔̚͜͝ͅn̴̡̢̪͎͇̝̼̞̼̭̜͙̫̻̖̪͒͊͆̉̾͋͒́̆ͅ ̸̘͙̼̪̻͖͔̳̙̼̼̫̥̘̀͗̀̆̂̈̉͘͜y̴̢̼͇͕̙̥̥̺̐̋̎ő̵̡̡̢̞̝̞͙̬̟̭̮̯͖͚̑͒̈́͗̇̓̈́̾͊̿̓̒͘̕͝ͅų̸͙͈̦̭̪̩͔̈́̎̄̒̒̆̈̓͐̽̈́̐̒̋͐͜͝͝ͅ ̵̢͉͇̥͉̰̗͉̋̄̈́͌̐̐͒̈́̿͆̒͒̃̂̚̕͝ͅt̷̢̲̯̗̖̹̰̯͕͎̱͙̞̰̄͛̑͜h̵̛͎͙̖̪̱̿̍̋̋̾̄̍͆̐̍͜i̶̠̪̺̼̲̜͖̙̎̃̎̕s̵̨̛̠̓͑͒͆̒̄̅͛̈͌̐̂̚͠͠ ̸̢̦̪̯̰̥͖̳͚̣͕̤̟̽͑͂̇̅u̵͙̣̺͚̅͌͠n̵̨͍̭̦̫͈̥̳͓̠͚̬͈̳͓̉̅̂̐͊͑͆̒ͅa̷̱̳̤̣̝̻̞̣̖͈͓̰̾́̇̍͜ͅs̶̢̧̘̬̞͑́̂̿͒̌s̸̢̡̗̗͍̻͙̟͉̫͚͖̜̯̳̮̊̽̌͛̌͗́͗́̊̐̀͝u̵̢̢̢̥̬̭̳̱͔̯̝͖̪͋͗̆̐̎͒͌̿̽̔̕͠͠m̵̢̛͕͎̲͓̥͙̜̻̥̹͑͗̉̀͘͠į̷̨̡̛̬̩̖͙̘͙̮͔̤͙̳̓͊͑͆̆́̀̾̓̐̉̔̆͘ͅņ̸̢̦̭͎̗̺͕̥͉̰̭̠̘͚͔̐̂͑͆͐̋͂̅̀̄̽̾̐̂͆̿͗ͅģ̵̦̜̠̟̠͊̓̉͐̔̚͠ ̷̨̢̜͚̣̱͕̭̪͚̮̟̹̪̌́̽͂͑̅̈̏͋͒̆͗͆̕͝͝ͅf̶̧̨̨̳̩̟̤̫͕̝̰̼̺̞̤̪͌̆̇͊̔̀͗̌͋́̍̾̚͝͝ő̴̻͐͛̐͊̉̈́͒́̿͋̈́͊̽͐ͅr̶̯̙̻͈̯̘͚̦̽́̔͒̈́̏̊͂̓͋͆m̶̮̺̐̊̌,̴̡̱̙̱̝̝̭͈͚̠̼̈́̊̋̈́̓͜ ̶̮͇̤̮̲͈̼͉͎̠͉̐̃̌̋̌͆͘b̷̬͕̥̅͊̄́̈́͘͘u̵̜̙͈̼̻̖̝̯͉̬͐͂̌̽͛͋̈̾̄̒̿̒ͅt̴̠̘̗̗̳̺͚̠̂̐̀ ̴̢̡̛̻̖̭͓̣̪͚̩̰͕̥̓̅̎͋̈́̍̏̂͂̕͝͠͠t̵̠̫̖̅͆́̕͘͝h̵̺̝͌͐̽͛̿e̵̮͔̎̈̃̊́̈̾̉̔̓͋́ ̶͕̼̻̈̔͒̏̇̆̍̌̑͑̇̆͆b̴͔̼̥̖̦̝̺̺̜͎̕͜ͅl̷̰̓̀o̵̤͗͂ơ̸̱͔̤̙̞͓͚̖̇̀͐̈̅̔̈́́́͘͠͝d̴̝͚͆̾̓͒͐̇͐̔̊̽͜͝ ̵̡̯̦̯̼͈̏̅̍̀̄̋̅̌͂͌̿ỡ̶̧̨͙̹̹͔̖̟͚̓̄̽̋̃̐̑͐̽̀̈́̚f̵̧̰̠̜̲̘̫̣̝̼̘̲̅͝ ̴̢̡̠̦͎͙̜̰̟̺̦͌͆̽̾̓̈̆̈́̀͘͜t̷̹̘̜͖͕̣̩̳͕̣̍̈́͛͊̓͋̎́͒̾́̇͐͆̿h̵̬̤̅͊͋́̈͑̅̎͠ͅê̷̯̲͕̖̦̭̲̏͠ ̵̢̘̤͇̭͔̹̜̘͈̟͍̟̝͇̺̑̆̈́͗̊̍ͅB̶͕̘̦̻̒̅̀̄̍̋ļ̷̧̡̗̮̜͍̦͇͚͖͙̱̻̝̈̀͒̈͗͒͒͊̀̽̐̕a̵͚͍̼̞̟̩͚͚̠̻̱̮̲̅̂̎͂̈́͋̎̀͆̍͑ć̷̪̥̤̺͔̓́̽́͐͛̅͌́̊̄̈́͠k̷̩̗̮̎̒̈́̂͒͘͜ ̴̨̧̡̨̲̞̜̭̮̪̜̹͐͌͝ͅÀ̶̙̯̰͊̋̍͜͠ŗ̵͉̦̟͙̹͗͐͗̽̋̇̾̃̈́̑̊̂͌̏̂͐͘ḿ̴̢̢̯͖͙̟͈̹̟͇͉͇̖̦̞͐̉͠ͅś̷̡̪̎̊̔̈́̋̋̃̏̃̈́͑͘͘ ̶̡̜̜̔̓̌̈́͒̀͆͜f̸̡̠̗̈́̊̏́͊̄͆̏͑̈͋͜ĺ̵̥͓̱̣̖̱̌́́̍͑̈͋̽̓̚͘͝͝ͅo̸̝̤͉̻̺̱͔̙͍̖̊́́̐́͋͗̊̎̽̓̑̿͌͛͛̊ẘ̵̛̻͖̣̳̟̞̟̗̓̓̍̾̐̓̍̃̕͜͝͝s̶̪̦͖̼̻̰̳̪͓̫̿̅̎̽͊̏͌̏̈́̃͜͜͜ ̵̞̿̆̓̌̆̍͆̿̇͒̊̅̿̚ȋ̷̬͖̙͎͚͚̟͛̀̃̚͜n̷̳͔̤̜̝̫͈̳̻̈́̽̈̅̍̈́͗̐̾̌̈́̉̚̕ ̷̡̨̡̮͎̪̟̫͕̹̝̓̊̂͌̆͐͗̈́̒͐̔́͜͠͝ͅy̶̢̨̛̛̥͇̟̠̗͓͈͎͍̮̥̘̮͇̅̓͛̋̈́̇̾̓̔̀͘͠͝ͅo̵̪̩͌̑̊̍̈͊̓̈́̒͌̓̌̚̕ü̷̢̨̳̜̜͎̭̻̰̂̈́̈́͒͆ŗ̵̼̖̤̣̞̰̹̤̹̾̿͗̌͠͠ ̶̨̲̬̰̖̘̟̪̤̣͖̔̽̆̚ͅv̷̢̘͕̦̈́̐̀̆̊̓̍̎̐̕͝ę̵̥̱̥̯͕̣̜͙͉̻̊̈͑͋͌̿̄̈́̍́̃͝i̶͎̱͆̌̈́̀̿̽̐̂̉̇̕͘n̷̟͉̙͔̺̊ś̵̡͔͍̹̯̤̺̳̦̭͆̀̃̂̀̎̓͒̂̕.̸̡̡̦̳̥̮̟̠̀̓̈̐̇̎͗̂̀̽̀̇͝ ̴̧̨̛͚̹̱͓̠̬͔͕̳͒̾̉͊͌̅̒́̌̅͘̕͠͝͝Y̵̖͖̻̳̺̤̟̮̓̈́̇̉͛̌̓̏ơ̵̡̡̢͖̙̫̼͙͊͐͝͝ͅų̷̨̛̗͖̰̟͇̣̻͇̲̹̠͈̘͐͌̒̉̔̄̓͂͊͛̒́̕͘͝ ̷̢̪̼̗̹̦̮͚̬̣͚̪͋̅͆̂̎̎̅͐̌̕̕͜ͅç̶̢̧̡̯͖̙̪̣̟̗͓͕̇͑̈́̍͋̈͒̎̊̽́̋́͆a̴͈̗͚̥̰̬͑̍̿̋̌̔̑͆͆̄̚n̸̢͇͐͋ǹ̸̞͈͚̰̝͉̫́̋̽͐͐̏ó̸̡̡̱̤̙̹͔͍̙̳̩̼̜̙̮̰̭̈́̂̚͝ţ̷͔̹̰̦̟̮͍̤̊ ̶̳́͆͊͐̑̈́͊͛̈́͠d̶̠̘̝͍̩̅̀̿̊͑̓͌͝͝ę̶̠͚͚̖̰̦̫͎̝̘̜̙̌̏̾̌̋̄͝n̸̡̢͓͍̮̺̤̬̲̼͕͙͕̖̂̽̇͌̈͆͐̀̒͗̈́͘͠ỳ̷̭̰̫̘̹̫̇̎̈́̓̈́͛̒̑̔̅͘͠ ̸̮͓̆͜m̷̨̺̰͚͍͙̙̬̥̃͛̐̓̀̊̋̐̈́̏̕͠͝ĕ̵̢̻̰̹̤͔͉͕̻̠̤̘̯̱̠͖̇͒̚͜͝,̵̨͙͕̬̯͉͙͍͇̬̣̌ͅ ̶̡̛͖̤̪̙̪̤͎͕̒͑͛́̓̈́̌̇̓̒́͘̕͜͝S̸̯̬̙̙̔͠ḩ̸̧̗̩̦͙̜̌̂̒͂̈́͐̌̍̇̇̀͋́̅̋̓̔ͅa̷̞̘̲̼̟͍̅́̔̊̉̋̐͋d̴͍̣̓̈́̆̃̐͑̇̕͠͠o̴̧̢̺͎̳̯̻͙̣͋͌͆̈́̆̈͌́̍̈̇͗̅ͅẃ̶̖͉͈̤̘̱̺͈͔̝̈̉̆̂͌͐͆͝͝.̷̝̖̟̜̘̥̪̻̓͒͗̀̈́̽ ̵̡̏̐͆̀̀̄Y̵͈̖̰͉͆͜ơ̷͎̳̟͍̹͊̔̑̐̈́̽͋͐͝u̵͈͉̼̮̫̜̭̳̳͌̇͋̆͋͗̉̒́́̿͗̃̀̕͜͝ ̷̧̳̭͙̫͚̟̲̗̥͙̫͈̔̆͌à̶̡̧̩̯̳̞̓r̶̪̱̣̣͉͕͔̖̣̬̺̥͚͇̗͋͋͑͝e̸̖̝̦͖̙̩͍̙̝̜͙̟̯͂̐͛̓̊̆̍͋̚̚ ̵̨̛̹̯̟͎͕̟̯̙̖̦̭͛̈́̒̓͊̃̌̆̆͜f̶̧͛̊͒̅̄͆͆̄i̴̡͚͓͍̩̳̝̋n̸̡̠̩̤̤̰͖̱̺̫͈̔̄̄̿̋̔͜a̵̡̛̛̛̟͈̩̹͕̮̯̣̥̩̳͐̑̿̄̍̈́̅̍̈̂̅͜ľ̴̨̨̲̬͕̻̥̘͛̈́̋̌̈́̆̒̂̆̀̅́̍͌l̶̨̛̺̬̱̥̯̈́̀̆̌ͅy̵̨̯̣͎̪̮͚̜̫̞͚̺͚̺͐̐͜ͅ ̴̨͈͇͙̯̜͕̱̺̱͑͊͋́́͂̅ͅc̸͙̋̎͋͂o̴̦̖̹̠͍̍̂͛̄̔̅̐̿̑͆̔m̵̮̗̙͔̾̇͗̏̈́̅̾́̌͘͘p̴̨̡̭̜̜̙̮̖̫̲͕͚͖̦͕̠͊͂̀l̵̟̱̩̝̈́͂̑̅̎̓̃͒̆͗̓͋̚͝e̴̺̘̞̲̤̞̤̫̞̓̄͊͗̈́̈́̑́̀̽͋̓͐ẗ̵̗̹͙͙̹̫́̀̾̑͛͐ȩ̶̼̱͉̤̪̘̱̹̋̆̇͑͌.̴̧̨̲̩͚͍̞̪͍͎͉̱̭̭̞͈̅͌̏̐́͌̕̚ ̴̭̲͙͂́̉͋͂̈́̈́̾̓͑́͋̽̾ͅC̵͓͎̓́͛̐̕͝͝͝ơ̵͔͖̻͒͊̍̓̏͑̐m̸̡͔̲̪̦͖̼̤̮͍͎̂̀̎̿̍̆͊̎͆͜e̴̼̠̼͎̞̎̊͛͝ͅͅ.̶̡͖͇̘͕̫̂͗ ̴̨̛͇͇̲̲̜̖̰̹̹̾͝͠F̸͈̀̄͗̾̆͌̐͆̔̿̈́̊̈́͘͘a̴̢̨͖̻̪̹̯̲̫̣͚̙͙̾̈͒̓͗̇̿̑͘̚͝c̷̢̳͙̔è̵̬́̇̋͌͒̒ ̸̣̯̖̹̀̔̍͝ṁ̴̬̬̫̻̓̅̈́͑̀̉͑̐̓͝͝ȇ̴̡̨̥̲̻͓̜̱͓̱̱̿̆̌̔͑̐̑̽̀̐̿̑ͅ.̶̛̳̰̠̝͖̘̼̳̙͗̒̊̓̽̾̈́̊̍͋͂̊̈́̕͜͝͝ ̸̧̢̝̳͖̙͈̪̝͔͉̮̱̝͇̏͛̈́͂̇͒̀̒͒͊̃́͜͠Í̶̧̻̘̙̪͕̪͎̝͚̭̩͉̌̔̒̓̔͆͂̂̕̕͝͠ ̷̛̳̬̬͙̦̥͇̰̗̫͈̤͙̠́̆ş̵̦͚̦͈̼̣͉̲͐̔̃̏̏͝ḣ̵̢̛̥̟̻̗̱̱̪͈̜͔̱͕̈́̎́̃̌͋͜͠͠ǎ̷͇̱̈̒̓̋͌̓́̿̈́̂̇͝l̷͕͂͆̈͝l̵̛̛̫̺̭͙͚̯̣̀́̽͊̎͗̈̓͆͝ ̵̧̧̼̦̥̻̺̞̼̻̯̳͔͔̼͌̔̽̓̕͜͝c̸͎͇̯͠l̷̢̬͇̮̰̙͙̝̏̄̊á̷̛̼̫̙͛̿͐͆̉̔̐̃̕į̷̯̻̤̥̅̈́̏͋́m̸̧̨̧̧̥̥̖̥͖͉̦̋̃͌͛̾̉̑̑́́̑ ̸̢̡̡͚̞̏̽͑̏̅̂ỵ̴̢̠͙͍̬̝̤͑͑̌̐ơ̴̖̱̲̪̟͛̋̄́ṳ̵̥̺̳̖̒̀͋͊̉̋͐̿̏̇̈́͌͐̋͜͠͠ͅͅ.̷̛̛͇̽̊̑̓́̋̔̉͑̒̀̕͝.̸̨͈̹̦̗̘͈̙̓̄̚̕.̴͍̬̗̪͆̅̇̓́̋́̎̈́͘ ̷̢̨̳̫̩̬̭͈̤͍̜̩̜̫̳̮̎̄͂̐͊̈̇̀̈́̄͒̏̌͘͠ͅm̴̭̮̯͎̺̜̞̀̽͒̐̈́͗͐̐̃̇͑͛͝i̵͓̖̼̜͛̾̒͛̀͊͘͝n̵͎͌́̽͑̚ͅď̵͙̳̀͋̎̈͋̽͐̈́̏,̸͕̫̗͗̅͋̀̃̒ ̵͕͖̜̫͇̩͓͍͍̬̰̾͘͝ͅb̷̡̖̳̬͉̝͉̺̓̅̀̾̈̅̋͛͘̚͝o̸̪̜̣̙̭̳̍̇d̴͓̦̀̾͆̈́̂͗͠y̴̢̟̟̣̫̻̭̲̺̲͉̭͔̪̼͇̙̐̃̾́͋͆͝ ̴̫̟̜̲̟̇̊̿̇͐̔̾͌͑̂̍̈́͆̇̀͜͝͝à̷̧̧͍̺͎̦̰ͅń̴̙͓̭̮̠̣͚̖͉̹͖͆͒̾͐̐̀̾̑͠͝d̵̨̨̖̥͈͔̪̺͍̦͍̹̲̂̔̊͆͌͒̕͠ ̴̝̒̉̑̊s̵̨̨̧̯̻̠̤̯̲͔͓̰̅̈̈́͊̋̏̾́̆̃͑̄̐̚ơ̴̮͍͂̈́̅̉̽̊̅̐̚͝͠ů̶̙̯̳̹̦̫̮̯̟̾̓͑̅̇̎̾̀͒͊̚ͅl̴̺̹͔̥̘̘͕̖͕̝̊̑̽̿̆͛̆̉̎̀̔̓̓̉̚͝.̷̨̢̻̦̩̀͛̇̓̉̿̕͠.̴̛͎̄͒̐̈́̍͂.̷̧͕̭̹̙͓̫̣͚̅̒̀̌̈́ͅ ̴̢̲̜̺͍̦̱͙̞͂̾̉͊̏͊͐̀̒̏̉̒̓̑̕̚â̷̹̪̙͇̰̦͙̿͗̐̑̾̇͘̕̚n̷͉̗̗͔̗̲̭̯̿͒̊͠ͅd̷̢̧̻̭͉̼̬̖͉͍̣͉͇͈̼̈́́̊̏̀̂͐̀͗̿̚̚̚̕͘͜ͅ ̵̢̰͎̪̪̗͕͖̦͙͗͊b̶̢̧̨̢͕̬͙̤̹͉̪͕̹͖̻̜̉̄̋̒͋̊̌̆̕͜ê̵̡̡̳̲̰̗̗͎͔̝̳̪͇͛̌̈́̀̅͘̕͜c̸̨̧̭̙̳̥̼̦̬̒͐̀́̐̌̔̒̃̀̊̅̽ȏ̷̝͔̲͍͖̏̋̒̈́̌̉̽̐̈́͘̕͜m̴̧̟̄̈͆̈́̾̊̄̽̍͜ͅȩ̶̛̛̟̦͈̣̔̀̇͌͑̏͌̍̌͊͐̀̔͂͝ ̷̧̩͙̱̙̭̫̭̦͔̰̙̬̩̥̃̈́͆̃t̷̡̛̙̬̭̝͑͆́̊͛̅͑͝h̷̢̢̧̥͖͈̼̖̞̱̟̪̳̪̽̓̇̀̃͝e̸̛̖͈̺̳̤͖͔͔͂̃̀́͒ ̵̡̒̍́̓̏̔p̵̭̮̯̙̳͈̅̊̋̾̈̈́̔e̸̛̪̱̻̰͐̐̈̌̀͑̅̓͝r̴̰͈̦̣̞͙̦̲̦̪̦̻̤̰͛́͑̂̚f̴̨̨̛̥̻̘̦̭̘͊̓̌̂͐͝e̸̡̧̧̨̨̯̣̳̝̱͓͇̟̎̈̽̑̃͂͐̽̃̉͜͜͠ç̸̡̨̺̩̼͎̻͌͋͋t̸̢̤̩̰̰̯̮̳̹̀̌̄̑͜ ̴̱̣̥̻̮̦̓̄̐̀̓̅̋̓͘͝b̶̡̢̰͉̒̌ě̸̩̀̄̀̎͌̎̅̀̆̊̆͒̎̿̚͠į̸̡̫͓̜͚̟͕̜͉̗̞͆͊̈́̿̽̋̇͂͌̊̕̕͠͠n̴̡̧̖̟̩̟̥̺͙̐̎̏̄̓̊̍͝ͅg̴̃̾̀͘̚͜͜͜.̸̗͓̰̠̥͎̫̰͍̘̃̀͋̃̑̽̈͐͂̚̕ ̶̞͓̥̯̝͚͚͙͐̔̽͂̔́̒̾͑͌͒̋́̕͝͠T̶̡͔̥̬̫͍̮͉̖̍͂̍̕ͅh̵̛̬̳̖̳̰̯͇̦̿̽̽̏̊̈́̿̓͐̽̏͑̊͆͒͜͝e̷̛̛͕͓̹̭̰̞̫̺͎̾̓̆̽͂̾̉̄̃̏̂ͅͅ ̸͕͌p̵̡̡̢̨̨̛̼͓͓͙̳̜̹̰̱̏̆͆́̈́͋̎͆͆͘͜ŕ̵͎̞̤̑̆̈́̾̂̇͆ő̵̡̘͚͚̅̍͜m̸̞͓̺̮͔̖̑̆̽̏͊̉͛̆̐ị̴̢̡͉̪̳͇̟̈́̓̔̉̄̊͋̆͠͝s̵͈̱͓͖̆̽̿̐̀̀͝ḛ̶̛͓͓̭͆̿̿͋͑̈̂̀̀̕̚d̷̛̮̼̲̤̯̳̙̙̣̟̥̝̎͆͗̄̔̏͂ͅ ̶̛̛̠́͗͛̆̃̊́͑̋̌̆̋̈ͅt̴̢̢͇̭̠͔̤̥́͑̀̏͛̑̈́̿̉̐͆̕͝ì̶̧̨̢̠͎̜̬̫̳̎̉͆͋ͅm̷͓͉̜͒̏̑̉̆ͅę̵̧̰̦̞̖͆͗̈͗́̇͝ ̸̳̮̖͈̟̩̲͊̈́͘͝͝ẃ̷̛̫̞̟̟̟̣̯͖̗̱̎̉̿͑̈́̈́̓͆̓į̴̯̩̪̔͌̽l̸̮̄̊̏̊̈́͠͠͝l̷̢̨͇̹̪̞̭̉̒̃͑̄̑̇̇ ̶̧͖̮̹̬̰̗̺̺̝̰̺̩̣̰͍͒̚r̶̥̦̺̲͎͚͑͑̕͠e̶͈͉͇͐̽̈́̎̊̌̎̉̓̂̈͂͘͝t̷̡̡͎̟̥̟̲͍̯̣͚̏̄͂̽́̋̽̕̕͜u̸̩̲̟̙̪͓͙̯̱̯͐̉͊̽͑́͜r̵͓̞̠̝̮͌͛̽͐ņ̷̧̰͎̘͓̑͐̐̏͛͗̂̀̃̿̑̈́̒̕ ̸̭͍̦̘̤̘̒͗̋̓͋̓̂̂͆͆͛̃̍͌̕ő̵̧̢̨̠̟̖̖̘͎̠̺͚̜̘̖͒̋̊̾̆̃̓̃̓͝ṅ̵̨͚̩̞̞͖̲̤̻̲̰͇̝͖̺̈̆̍̀͑͋̐͐̒͝c̴̬͂̓̾̈́́̐̋̂̽͘͝ė̴̛̜̼͎͈̟̙̫̥̗̺̥̩͖̺̍̾̀̍̓͂͑̾͘̕͜ ̶̛̞̩̺̩͓͔̠̙̞̞̥̜̱̲̰̰̐̑̌̌͛̚m̶͙̠͉̲̬̬̞͓̺̥̗̬̯̦̘̊̿̑͗͊̆̋̈́̈́́̅̆̽̂̕͘͘ǫ̷̧̪̣̼͎͚̟̻̺̦̘̰̌̃͂̃̈́͒̚r̶̡͔̪͍͉̳̂͑̾̔͌̂͗͌̋͐̽͋̾͘̕͜͝ę̸̗̽͊̈́̋̽̌̒͊͠.̶͍̺̗̃͋̀̆̀.̸̟͊́.̴̛̹́͗͐͋̾̈̾͑̊̚͘̕͝ ̴̨̦̜̪̱̎́͂̓̔̊͂̃̆͋̚͝ý̷̛̙̻̾̀̑̓̄͐͝͝ó̵̡̭̹̻̭͚̭̺̠̘̥̳͕͖͓͐̒͆͒̎̈͝ư̸̲̾̆̏̍̇̔̋̀̎̓̏̓̓̕̚̕ͅ ̴̢̭̺̙̟̬̯͚̙͊̈́̍̐͘c̷̘̼̣͙͕̗͚̝̗̟̝̉͂a̵͚̺͛n̴͇̳̗̬̠̲̲̮̺͓͇̫͑͒͋̍̌̄͗̆͒͐̈́̄͒͐̍ń̸̢̠̤̼̥͍̜̔̓͂̏̚ö̸̜͖͖̮̥́͋̽̒͂͝t̶͎͈̥̥̗̜̩͊́̔̒͋̇ ̶̨̱̠̱̯̣̫͈̹͖̿̆͒̅͐̓̏͘d̸̛̙̬͖̝̱̝̭̙̟͕͎̹͜ę̶̛͉̤̳̤̫̯̗̺͙̲̺̜̥̮̄̐͜͝ͅn̶̡̙̤͙͖̳̘̄̒̈́͂̓y̵̢͎͎̙̟̹͉̟͈͛̈͗̈́̄̑̀̅̈́̅͌̎̚͝͝ ̶̭̙̮̫͙͓͋̀̓̋̓͐͛̾͆̇̆̽̂͐͘ͅy̸̨̜̠̣̻̣͉̠̺̬̗̜̠̲̎͊̈́́̓̔͜͝ͅͅŏ̸̧͔̦̟̲͖̭̻͙̘͐̌͋̐̉ú̷͚̹͐̅ŕ̶̢̜̤̭̥̗̗͓̝͖̻̥̬̪̾͊͒̃̒̒͐̚͝͝ ̶͉̫̘̞̮͍̋̎͠f̶̼̪͎̖̮̝̰̦͎̾͋̎̉̏̓̍̓͐͒̉̒̕ͅͅą̴̢̨͉̩̯͔͇͕̞̜̤̒̄̃̀̑̑̎̿̑͌͘̕͠t̷̯̱̓̅̈͒̿̀̽̔͠ĕ̸̡̧̡̳̮̗̩͖̰̮͎̖̙̄̇͂͐́̉͊̎̅̌̕͠.̴̮̩̰̿̄̋̾̿̇̽̂͝”̸̢̧̟̯̜͇̟̰̖̮̪͇̼̀͛̊̀̕ 
 The impact jarred through his ribs like a hammer strike, forcing a gasp from his throat as the cold morning air sliced against his skin. Shadow’s heart slammed against his sternum, erratic and panicked, the ghost of something lingering at his back – its claws still hooked  deep  into his spine, its breath still curling  hot  against his nape. He could feel it. The weight of it. The phantom grip that had clung to him in the dark…! … Light. Blinding and vast, the sky yawned open above him, an endless stretch of pale blue smeared with thin, ghostly clouds. It was too bright. Too sharp. The real world had arrived too suddenly, tearing through the fog in his mind with a cruel, jarring clarity.Shadow's body shuddered violently. The cold had already burrowed deep into his muscles, stiffening his joints, rendering his limbs sluggish and uncooperative. But he barely felt it - his thoughts reeled, spinning wildly in the wake of something wrong grabbing hold of him and--! Something moved in his peripheral. Every instinct screamed. His body acted before his mind could catch up - head snapping to the side, quills bristling, teeth bared in a sharp, defensive snarl--! Only to pause. Sonic. Standing there, blinking at him, an eyebrow quirking upward. “Uhh… Good morning to you too?” Blinking down at him, mouth slightly agape, Sonic the Hedgehog’s expression was frozen in a dumbfounded stupor. His gloved hands hovered in the air, fingers curled with an unreadable intent - like he’d been about to move, about to do something, only to halt at Shadow’s sudden rise and inevitable collapse. The sun had crested behind him, its golden light cutting through the morning chill, spilling over his quills in a soft, honeyed glow. Against the lingering cold, he looked impossibly warm.Shadow could only stare, chest heaving, his lungs burning from exertion. He was sure he looked just as lost - mouth parted, expression slack with disbelief.His gaze snapped away as clarity returned, a jolt of awareness shoving past the haze. His body remained locked in place, coiled tight, ready for a fight - his eyes darting wildly, scanning the area, searching... But there was nothing. No red glow. No feathers. No... no... W̵h̴o̴ ̵w̶a̶s̶ ̵i̴t̴ ̷a̸g̸a̸i̷n̷…̵?̸ The nightmare was already unraveling, slipping from him like mist dissolving in the morning light, leaving behind only its ghost - a whisper, a presence imprinted too deep into his skin. In its wake, all that remained was the sharp migraine pressing behind his eyes and the dull, throbbing ache along his spine where he’d hit the ground. ... A quiet, shuddering groan escaped him as he raised a hand to his head, fingers pressing into his temple with a sharp hiss. Sonic tilted his head, his expression shifting from startled concern to something far too entertained, a lopsided grin tugging at his lips. With an exaggerated sigh, he plopped down onto the park bench where Shadow had apparently fallen from, stretching his arms behind his head and crossing one leg over the other, the wooden seat creaking slightly beneath him.“So rude to me, you know that?” He drawled as he swayed one foot in the air idly, the golden buckle flashing in the growing light as he puffed out a breath of air. No more was he sulking like he'd been for the past month, bouncing back at a speed only he could manage. Progress... “You leave me to sleep,  cold and alone  in our bed… Then I wake up thinking,  ‘Oh, it’s probably because I look like a b@m! I’ll fix that!’  I bust my quills making sure I look good for you, and you don’t even have the decency to compliment me on this fine morning? Amy worked real hard on this cut, ya know? Not only do you insult me, but you’re scoffing at all of her hard work! For shame, for shame…”Shadow, still reeling, barely registered the words at first. White-hot spikes of pain sliced from behind his eyes, sharp and insistent, as his ears flattened against his head. He exhaled through his nose, slow and measured, pressing the heel of his palm into his temple in an attempt to soothe the pain. It had been too long since he’d had one of these spells… Too long since his body had betrayed him for no apparent reason like this… One red eye cracked open, his gaze sliding up toward Sonic in sluggish recognition. The hedgehog was watching him expectantly, brows wiggling, a teasing glint in his eyes as his tail wagged behind him. … For a moment, Shadow simply stared. His mind was still caught between the  here  and  there,  the warmth of the sun doing little to chase away the chill embedded into his soul. And yet, Sonic sat there, so effortlessly present – quills slightly shorter, much neater, the overgrown peach fuzz a thing of the past. He looked healthier with his eyes like summer leaves, fur as blue as the planet they inhabited.Shadow’s lips parted slightly, as if considering a response, but the thought slipped away before he could catch it. Instead, he exhaled another slow breath and let his eye slip shut again.  “...Hn.”   A grunt. Barely even that. It earned him a scoff. It was the closest thing to an acknowledgment Sonic was going to get at the moment, so he’d have to live with it for now. He braced a hand against the bench and, with a deliberate slowness, pushed himself upright. His limbs felt heavier than they should, weighed down by the remnants of the dream, by the way his nerves still screamed that something had been  there. That something  terrible  had nearly  touched  him... His balance wavered, just slightly. The moment his knees threatened to buckle, he adjusted, shifting his weight – refusing to let himself collapse outright. Even so, when he sank down onto the bench beside Sonic, it was with more force than he intended. The wood groaned beneath him as he settled, one hand still cradling his head.  Sonic made a noise beside him, not quite a chuckle, not quite a hum.  “...Rough night?”  Sonic asked, his voice light and teasing, but not without a thread of curiosity beneath it. Shadow felt the faintest shift beside him, a small movement, a near-imperceptible lean. The warmth Sonic radiated was subtle but grounding, a contrast to the cold air still clinging to Shadow’s skin. He inhaled deeply, turning his head until his quills brushed against Sonic’s shoulder. It wasn’t intentional, not really, but it also wasn’t something he cared to correct. His body was too heavy, his mind too muddled from the lingering haze of his dream to bother with appearances or distance. For now, it didn’t matter to him if anyone saw them this close. The stillness stretched, the weight of the moment settling into something almost… comfortable. Shadow let it linger, let the last remnants of the nightmare dissolve into the precipice of his mind. Finally, low and quiet, he grumbled, “Something like that…” Sonic hummed, neither pushing for more nor prying deeper. Instead, he tilted his head, resting his cheek against the curve of Shadow’s quills for just a second before pulling away. The gesture was fleeting, barely there, but it left a trace of heat against the cold morning air. His foot swung lazily where it was still propped over his knee, the picture of casual ease. “Well,”  The speedster started, stretching his arms behind his head with an exaggerated sigh. “I can’t say I expected you to  fall  at my feet this early in the morning, but I guess I  do  have that effect on people. You must be really out of it... Hehe~!” The hybrid exhaled through his nose again, a hushed, barely-there sound that might have passed for amusement if he weren’t still trembling. He cracked an eye open, shifting his gaze to Sonic, who was watching him with an insufferably smug grin, the early sunlight making the blue of his fur glow. Shadow didn’t dignify the comment with a response. Sonic kicked his leg out, letting it drop with a dull  thunk  against the pavement. Then, with another exaggerated sigh, he leaned back further, tilting his head sideways as he regarded Shadow with lazy curiosity, eyes lidded. “Alright, fine. If you’re not gonna flatter me, at least tell me why you were sleeping out here in the first place. You never showed up at the party, and Amy even saved you a slice of cake…” … Without a word, Shadow shifted, resting his head against Sonic’s shoulder. Sonic blinked, surprised by the sudden contact,  but of course,  he didn’t pull away. Shadow barely registered it. His face was hidden, his forehead pressed into warm, familiar fur, but it wasn’t for comfort – it was to conceal the dried, flaking saliva clinging to the corner of his mouth. He could feel it now, tight and unpleasant, a small but humiliating reminder that he had... lost some of his self-control last night… A blush burned beneath his fur, a mortifying heat that only made his pounding headache worse. The last thing he wanted to do was explain that. … “…I don’t remember.” Not…  entirely  a lie. Shadow barely heard himself say it, voice muffled where he pressed against the other hedgehog’s shoulder. His throat was dry, and the pounding in his skull made thinking a chore. He exhaled slowly, hoping that if he stayed still long enough, the weight of the morning would cease its insistent pounding...Sonic, however, didn’t respond right away. His foot, previously still, let out two taps against the pavement. Shadow didn’t have to look to know Sonic was watching him, gaze sharp with something unreadable.“You don’t remember, huh?” The Hero asked as his foot  tapped  against the ground, a pout on his muzzle. “Well, that’s just weird, but I guess your memory hasn’t always been the best, though.” … The words were spoken offhand, like a teasing remark, but they coiled around something ugly inside him. Shadow’s grip on awareness wavered, like grasping on an icy ledge, yet he couldn’t quite pinpoint why those words made his stomach churn. He swallowed hard, choosing to lean just a bit more into the other, feeling too tired to snap back or argue as shame continued to flavor his cheeks scarlet. It seemed to appease Sonic, at least, who didn’t say anything else for a while. The only things heard now were the rising of wildlife in the Restoration’s Park, and it wouldn’t be long until the Mobians and G.U.N. soldiers would make themselves known. Their moments were fleeting. ... ... ... When Sonic spoke again, the teasing was gone entirely from his voice. “...Why don’t we head back to Tails’ place? I know you hate being dirty, so you can use his shower, clear your head a little bit… After that, we grab some breakfast. Maybe your head will stop hurting.” The idea of a hot shower was admittedly appealing, the grime on his fur more irritating now that he was more aware of it. But moving sounded miserable... Still, Sonic was staring at him like he  expected  an argument, so Shadow forced himself upright, ignoring the way the world swayed violently. “Fine,” he growled under his breath, trying to keep his voice neutral, willing himself to not wince as the motion sent another fresh spike of pain through his skull. Coffee… He needed coffee… Coffee always helped...Sonic snickered as he watched him, already on his feet the moment the other’s weight was off him. “Knew you’d see reason. You look like you got run over, dude! Which is  also  weird, because I didn’t even put my hands on you that much yesterday!” ... Shadow's ears flattened more as he pushed himself to his feet, clenching his teeth as he mentally willed for the world to stop spinning. He squinted at Sonic closely, raising one hand to rub his cold arm in a posture that seemed... insecure. "...Speaking of that... After breakfast I need to check in with Commander Tower. He needs to be informed that you're back... back to your old self... If Rouge hasn't done so already..." … Sonic paused for a moment, the shine in his eyes flickering dark. His face twitched slightly before his gaze faltered away, a scowl creeping onto his face. 
   “Oh… Right. That.” 
 Shadow frowned at the reaction, watching as Sonic glanced off to the side like he wanted to be anywhere but here. He wasn’t in the mood to argue. It was something that had to be done eventually, especially since him even talking to Sonic right now was a direct betrayal of orders…Instead, after a beat, Sonic exhaled, tilting his head back to look at his rival fully. “Alright, fine. Sure, Whatever.” His voice was even, though the chipper tone was clearly forced.  … Then, just as Shadow thought he might drop the subject, Sonic smirked… though it didn’t quite meet his eyes.  “T̷̺̮͓̝̪͖̈́̋́͐̈̃̌̈̎͑̐̎̚͝h̴̗̙̩̱̲̻̳̭̥̱̱̜̮͕̳͌̾͊̊͋͊͌̑͂̇͒̿͘͜͝ȩ̵̬̜̘̣̳̒̉͋̋̓̚͝ ̷̭̠̮̖̝͙̘̺̱̫̪̳͚̦̇͌̐̀̌͌͘͜p̴̨̫̮͖͔͍̝̮͍̈́̄͑̑̊̉̓̒͝ŗ̶̲̩̟̌̑͌͑̈̀͘͜͝o̶̧̩̝͙͖̽͐̀̉̓̈̅̈m̴̫͍̫̤͕͛͠ͅͅi̵̧̘̲̜͎̪̮̜̥̒͗̈́̑̉̅̀͠s̶̛̛̭̻͖̠̫̦̙̋͐͆̌̏̃̓̉̃̈̃̈́́̒̿͜e̷̲̻̱͚̤͎̰͉̹͕̳̺̮̹͔͑̇́d̸̨͓̱͎̟͔̤̲̭̫̖͂͗̏̓̀͐̔̕͜͝͝ͅ ̸̢̨̡̘͈̯̻̙̯̖͈̱̮̙̟̏̐̆̒̍͒̍̀̒̆͑͘͠t̷̢̨͚̟̫̞̗̣͎̠͎̜͙͋̎i̷̩̣̳̱͚̱͕̮̐̂͒̿̽͐̓́͝m̶̧͓̻̒̕ę̴̨̣̙̜͎̣̲̣͎͕̼͇͖̯̀̊̅̒̽͝ͅͅ ̸̱̯͍͓̖͓̋̂̀̅̒̆̒̈́͑̈̀̓͐̔̿̕i̴̧̡͓̠̮͔̪̝̼̊͌̍̐̆̆̐̀̅̚s̴̡̝͈͎͔͈̗̼͖̰̙̰͗̎̈́͌͛͊̃̊̈́̌̅͗̓̕ͅ ̷̢̡̻̻̣̦̞̦͊͊̀̌̆̆͝ņ̵̙͕̻̼̘͇̯̣̹͉̏̀̾͛̀͂͑̓̾̉̄̎́͗̚̕͝ȋ̴̧̨̛̛̖̞̻̱̬͈̣̘̦̭̲̒͋̑̔̔̃̊̕͜͝g̷̣̘͙̖̠͕̠̲̏̋̉̀͗̽͋̀́̈́͗̀̅͜ḧ̶̨̭̯́̏̾̉̎̉̑̀͐̓͂̐̊̚̚̚͝ ̷̡͈̬̭̫̻͑̽̀͗̽̈́̎͒̕͝ų̷͔̮̈̔͊͂̽́́̃̇̈́̈͘p̶͈̫̼̜̹̝͙̣̍̎̈́̈́̈́́̎̈́̔̌͛̆͌̿ͅŏ̷̰͉̆͊͐̐̽̔͌̉̈́̎̾̀͂̕̕͠n̵̯̫̩̬̤̬̓͐̓̒͗̈́́͒̈́͑̄͠ ̸͍̖͍̘͚̪͎̜̤͍̪̣͑̀̄̓̐̏̐̊͒̏̈́͆̑̚͝ư̸͚̏̈̋̔̋͛̂̋͐̂̆́̌͑̌͝s̴̨̹̻͍̬̱̼̜̮̹̪̯͍̼̘̺̓͆̈́̈̓͠,̸̫̖̩͈̞̉̿̍̃͑̇́̽̕͝ͅ ̸̢̢̩͇͉͉͚̻͔̤̏̔̈́͒͆̔̾͆́͌̅͆͝ͅS̶̢̪̠͔̩̤̣̮̤͔̙̦̆̑͂̒̍͗́͜h̸̢̛̰͇͎̩̘̦̰̽̑͑̍̏̀̈́͗̀̅̒͒̚͝á̴̡̞̖͖̞̟̮̔̐́̾̏̔̕͝͝d̸͚̜͓̺̟͍̯̆̈̂̉͋̓͊o̵̘̙̭͉̙̱͚̦̖̺̖͖͖̣̹̝̾͌̏̔͐̾̎̋͌̆̇̕͝͝ͅẁ̵̢̛͎̺̺̫̟͎̪͇̞̜͖̼̥͙̀͆̆̇͊̈̐̑̾̈́̈́͗ͅ.̵̨̨̡͓͔̫͔͚̘̩̺̻̠͆̄̒͊̀̉͛̈̒͝ ̴͍͉͉͈̰̟͔͎̰̹̼͓̖͉͋̔͂̓̉̓͌̍̊̄̽͠͠Ṣ̸̢̜͕̯̮͉͖͕̱̲̲̗̫̿͑̂̉̃̐̐̈́͆̄̈́͝o̴̢̡̙̦͍̳̹͚̥̮̗͛͒͛̍̈́̽̄͗̀͌̚͜ͅo̶̢̝̺͖̓̾͝ǹ̵̛̘͈̟̼̇͗͆͋̋̉̈́̉̇͗̅͜,̴̢̡̧̖͖̮̞̼̲̦̣̩͓̖̺̩́̓͐̄̿̋̌͝͝ ̷̨̧͍̗̙̯͎̩͎̠̗̹̳̎ͅy̶̯̝̤̲̠̫̭͍̱͙̋̉͌̈̄̋͌͂̂͘͠ͅó̵̞̭̼̮̌̎ṳ̵̢̢̫̝͍̘̙̲̺͙̐͑͌ͅ ̴̛͔̜͍̘̪̠̉͛͒̉̕͠͠w̸̨̫͔͎̬͓̯̜͔̺̻̜̬͔̮͙̫̌̈̅͗̽̒̎͗̈́̓̕͝į̵̤͙̞̯̯͎͍̳̝̜̆̓̆͘͠ĺ̶̨̞̻̘͍ͅͅĺ̵̰̮̱̳̝̻̣̣͛͌̒͊͊̏̑͂͗̕̚͝ͅ ̵̨̡̯͎͙͓̳̜̫̪̹̖͎̠̃͌̄͒ͅͅḇ̶̢̢̗̣̥̖͐͘͜ȩ̴̛̰͓̗̟̝͕̱̲̣̥̺̰̗͕̀̈͌͂̓̏͛̔̒̋͋̊͘̕͜͝͝ ̵͔̃̋̂͑̀̒̈͠m̷̠̔̎̃̂͑̎̎̾͠i̵̧͖̜̼͍͖̞̭͈͉͎̇͜ņ̵̦̰̳̦̪͓̟̠̺̪͚̦̀̀ͅe̶̢̛͖̥̩͕̹̭̰̦̠̙̟͕͎̝͖̗͂͒̔̏͂̈́̅͐̅̆̀” … Shadow tilted his head to the side, eyes widening. The pain behind his eyelids spiked terribly, and his knees nearly buckled. 
   “Wh… What…? What did you just say?”
 
  ...
 Sonic only chuckled, striking a cocky pose as he rubbed the tip of his nose with a finger. His grin widened just a fraction, eyes glinting with unmistakable mischief.“You heard me, Faker.” His tone was maddeningly casual, his brows wiggling playfully as he folded his arms behind his head. “Once we’re done with all the boring, serious talk with your…  boss, or whatever, I get you all to  myself  for the rest of the day. I think we're due for that anyway.” ... … Shadow’s brain short-circuited. There was no other explanation. His body, already weighed down by exhaustion, had decided to betray him completely, leaving him defenseless against the creeping warmth crawling up his neck and the ice settling into his veins. “I… Y-You…” The words barely stumbled past his lips, his usual sharp tongue failing him. Sonic, the insufferable menace, only looked more delighted. His grin stretched wider, soaking in every second of Shadow’s flustered state like it was the funniest thing in the world. “Ohhh, I’m not hearing a no~!” he sang smugly, rubbing his hands together like a villain hatching a grand scheme. His voice dropped into a teasing murmur, full of amusement. “Man, you’re so cute when your face gets all red like that, eheh~!” The tips of Shadow’s ears felt like they’d been burned. His fingers twitched where they curled into his arms, nails pressing against the fabric of his gloves, nose wrinkling in spite of the blush. With a scowl, he abruptly shouldered past Sonic, muttering a sharp  ‘Idiot…’  under his breath as he shuffled forward. He stomped ahead, determined to put as much distance between them as possible before his face betrayed him further. Behind him, Sonic’s victorious laughter rang through the air, bright and unrelenting. … … … Footsteps slowed to a complete halt not even a few feet away. A small cluster of animals, two squirrels and one Flicky, blue as the sky, gathered in the middle of the pavement ahead, rummaging around for something to eat in quick, jittery movements. Their tiny heads bobbed up and down as they chattered to one another, bushy tails and feathers flicking, oblivious to the  twitching  eyes boring into them from a distance. Shadow hugged himself tighter, arms locking over his chest as his thoughts momentarily emptied, the sight in front of him overriding whatever lingering warmth Sonic had etched into his skin.  
   ‘…What did I forget…?’ 
 Before he could process it further, a blur of blue and smiles jogged past him, a burst of effortless energy cutting through the scene with open arms.  “Aww, look at these little guys! They’re so cute!” Sonic greeted, dropping into a crouch as he extended a hand toward the critters happily. The reaction was instant – excited chirps and chitters filled the air as the animals seemingly recognized him. The bird flapped its small wings, hovering briefly before perching on Sonic’s outstretched fingers, its tiny talons gripping him with complete trust. Not to be outdone, the squirrels scurried closer, one tentatively nudging the tip of Sonic’s shoe while the other scrambled onto his knee, twitching its nose in delight. ... 
  They immediately adored him.
 The Hero laughed breezily as he observed the bird closely, whistling. “Wow, you’re as cool and blue as me, little guy! Hope you don’t get into as much trouble as me, though…” Blue quills indeed swayed as their owner looked over his shoulder, grinning all the while. “You just gonna be shy over there or what? C’mon, say hi!” … Shadow didn’t move. The animals barely seemed to acknowledge him, too enraptured by Sonic’s presence, and he wasn’t sure why that... that unsettled him. He stood rigid, his back still slightly hunched from the lingering ache in his skull. His arms tightened where they crossed over his chest, his fingers gripping at his striped fur roughly.  
   The sensation of liquid, pouring hot and heavy from his mouth, came to mind. The taste clung to his tongue, suffocating… ȉ̸̛̖̠̮͕͉͓̘̭̥́̈́͠n̷̡̧̡̯̰̺͓͛͆́t̶͕̯̟̘̣̩̟̲̘̫̋̍́͝ͅò̸̝̦̳̳̳̌͆͝ẍ̴̛̲̻̳͇̬͗̃͛̉͛͆̕͘͝͝i̵̢̖̟̗̱̯̞̮̻̳͉̽͐̈́̀ç̴̛̻̠̼̞̮̥̓͐͒̄̂͛͗͂́̂̓́̆́͐̕ͅa̵̡̨̧̖͇̜̰̞̹̪͙̖̣̦̣̤̹͑͗͂̔̇̈́̈̄̚͠ţ̷̨͔͍̤̞̼̮̮̺͑̾͗̔͌̀̚i̷̡̡̢̬͉̹̺̺͕͙̞̺͎̞̱̳̊̌̈́̉͌n̵͙̹͍̻̘͔͕̰̲̣̠̥̪̹̈̿g̵̻͔̳͚͙̘̘͊̈́͑́̐́…̸̛̛͕̀̾͆̒̔͛̉̍̂̏̕͠͠
 Shadow swallowed involuntarily, forcing down the little amount of saliva that had gathered in his dry mouth. Red eyes tore away from what should be a pleasant sight, jaw tight. “Sonic, I..."  
  .̵̧̨̙͕̘̳̹̝̰̞͋̇̃̓͂̍̈́̆̐̔̈́̎͂͘̚͠.̷̨̡̦͖̘͍͇̜̖̜̍̌̀̕ͅ.̶̡͔͕̹̝͈̬̝͚̤͙̔̈̃̓̌́̃͗̄̆̋̍̊̇̕͜͝ ̷̨͔͇̲̭̘͖̰͑̎̔͗͂̂́̏̓͐̈́̽̇͛̌̚͜Ḭ̴̡̡͉̤̬̰̙̲̾̓̿̐̋̋̾̐̇̅̐̕͜'̷̠̟͉͈͙͙̫͚͙̖͋́͐̄̿̉͒̀̊̈́̾̿͝͝͝m̵̨̃̃ ̵̢̲͕̓̈́̉̓̆̋̿͊̉͌̓̂̈́͒̀ͅh̷̻͚̥̳̮͙̋̾͆͒͋̇̊̍͂̾͐ȗ̵̩̲̥͉̫͉̬̬̑̑͜ņ̶̧̛̛͈̻̗̖̃͗̽͑͋͐͐̐̕͘̚g̸͚̯͉͚̫̣̰̦͛̽̏͒̿̉̀̈͊̕͠͠͠ŕ̶̮̖̒̄̑̕y̴̧̼̥̦͓̫͓͚̗͇̣͍̞̩̌͋̒͐͑͠ ̵̝͊͆̒̌̋͜.̴̛͙̹̓̽̃͛̉͆̀͐͐̀̕̕͘͘͝͝.̴̺͍̼̘̜̦̾͌̎͒̂̊̃̕̚.̸̡̪͍͈͎͙̲̪̰̺̭̺̓̆̾̑͝
  "...We don’t have time for this.” … Sonic blinked, his grin faltering into a thin line of concern. He tilted his head slightly, eyes flicking over Shadow as if considering whether to pry... but, true to form, he let it slide. Instead, he turned his attention back to the critters scurrying around him, giving them a few final affectionate pats before lifting his hand, allowing the Flicky perched there to take flight with an easy flutter of its wings."Okie dokie, Mr. Grumpy-Quills, whatever you say!" He stretched his arms overhead, giving a lazy roll of his shoulders before flashing the animals a playful smirk. "Later, little dudes… Don’t have too much fun without me!" With a casual two-fingered salute, he pivoted smoothly on his heel and jogged back toward his rival, his step light, effortless.A breeze caught his quills as he skidded to a stop in front of Shadow, one hand resting against his hip. The other stretched forward in an open invitation... To be... held? Is that what he wanted? Right now? Shadow stiffened, heat prickling at the back of his neck. His pulse stuttered in his throat. Despite the sweat beginning to bead along his forehead, he managed to shoot the taller hedgehog a bewildered look, crimson eyes narrowing slightly in something caught between suspicion and sheer confusion.The Hero, ever unfazed, wiggled his fingers expectantly. "C'mon, don't leave me hangin', bro. We got stuff to do!"  ... Red eyes maneuvered between one outstretched hand and one eager, imploring face, searching for some kind of motive that meant misfortune. The lack of gray or black that had been swirling in those emerald irises was promising, and the moment they had yesterday came to mind... How Sonic had asked of him to keep his secrets once more, how they had kissed under the cold moonlight... Certainly, after everything they'd been through, the time for games was over... ... For the first time since he'd woken up, the feeling blossoming in Shadow's chest was pleasant. This was what they should do, right? Hold hands, even in public... The pain in his head wouldn't subside.  
  ...
 He must've been standing there unmoving for longer than expected, because Sonic was tapping his foot now with a raised eyebrow again.  “Shadow,” Sonic said, tone dipping just enough to be insistent now. Gloved fingers continued to flex slightly, palm still open. “You gonna stand there all day, or are we getting grub?” The casualness of the whole thing nearly made Shadow scoff aloud. Unbelievable. The way Sonic carried himself, the way he so easily dismissed the behavior Shadow knew the Hero noticed, acted like none of it mattered... like Shadow hadn’t just woken up feeling like his lungs were full of blood, like his head wasn’t still splitting open. Like there was no reason at all for hesitation. It was infuriating… And yet... With a sort of sick awareness, Shadow's stomach twisted as he realized that Sonic had been there when he woke up. If it had been Rouge, she would have made a fuss, insisting he rest while she got to the bottom of the cause. And maybe she would’ve been right to. In the past, these spells had been frequent enough to be concerning. But Sonic… Sonic didn’t treat it like a big deal. And, strangely, that was nice. Shadow swallowed. His fingers twitched, curled, then uncurled. He wasn’t sure what possessed him to move - exhaustion, hunger, the need to do something instead of standing frozen in place - but before he could stop himself, his hand lifted. Just barely, just enough that Sonic could take it if he wanted to... ... And Sonic did.  Shadow tensed, breath catching when the other grasped his hand firmly, but Sonic had already turned, already tugged him forward like it was nothing. Like it wasn’t strange, like Shadow wasn’t melting from the inside out due to the heat of the Sun in his palm.“All right, let’s go!” Sonic practically giggled, eyes fixed on the path ahead, not a hint of hesitation or doubt in his voice as his quills swayed in the wind that carried him.Shadow exhaled slowly, trying to ignore the thrum in his ears, the way his headache seemed to dull, not completely, but just enough, under Sonic’s touch. Their footsteps fell into sync in a way that felt natural, steady against the earth. He focused, not on the pain he felt, but on the steps Sonic took in front of him, on the way morning air brushed against onyx and cobalt fur... 
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  Whatever the outcome of the day... I̶̖̝̊̃t̵̳̯̜͙̪͓̀̆̆̅̒̋̈̐͊͋̿̎̇̃̋̚͝ ̴̢͖̳͉̺͌̇̅w̴͈̟̮̫͉͙͈̬͍̠͙̪̆ọ̷̪̤̫̓́̄͋̔͆̔́̀̕͜͠u̷̢͓̖͇̙͊͊̅͆͌̈́̾̋l̵͉͙̬̭̼̗͖̩̗̞̀̍̂̀̓͑̓̈́͊̆̚͝ͅd̸̨̺͚̘̙̥͖͎͉̞̺̲̭̄̈́̿̆͒̀̋̃͜ ̷̡̛̙̞̞̤͇̟͕͖̎̽̃̾͐͂̒͒̓̈̈́̈́͘͘͠͠b̸̤̟͖̻̤̳̩͚̗̥̘̲͗̌̓͒̓̆͑͜e̸̡̯̺̝͔̬̜̲̎͐͆̅͒̔̎͌͆͒̌̒̀͜͝ ̷̧̲̰̣͖͖̘͈̫̥̲̻̝͈̥̗̌̆ͅm̵̘͍͉̞̣̜̄̚͝ư̸̢̖̞͉͕͕̟̘͙̭̞̗͕̱̣͍̈̾̄̂c̷͎̫̦̪͓͂͊̒̾́̅̈͗́́̋̚͠͝͝h̴̨̦̼̞̠̔̂̈́ ̶̨̙̺̰̣̊̿̀͒͊̀̏̈̾͛̾b̴̧̧̨̨̳̝̝̲͍̠̞̟̾̀̿͂̾̓͑͆̆̀͘̚͝è̴͓͚͓͉͖̺̻̬̪̭̿͝͝t̴̡̓̇̈́̄́̒͑̈́͛́͛̒͘t̶̛̰̗̯̣͆̀͗̍͗͑͂̋̃̃̒͂̀̂͠͝ȇ̵̡͕̤̹̩̱̓̑ͅr̵̛̠̰͔̣̳͙̣͋͆́̄͛̌͆̈́̈ ̷̧̺̗̯̬̬͚̜͖̺̳̺̅̊̿̂́̇̋̂͗̎͗̈́̽͂t̷̛̳͖̤̔͛͑̾̆̿̀̀̿̋͑͑͝ḩ̶̛̻̤̙̞̳̖̫̮̝̃̀̽͐̆̂̒̚͜ả̶̡̺͕̞̰̠̲̩̙̼̥̝̊͗͛̿͑̅̚̚n̶̯̤̳̼̓̀̾́̆̾̐ ̵̮̮̖͔̗̓̔̆͝b̸̨̧̢̛͖͕͎̬̗̂̓͗̇̀́̈́̈́͌̎̅͂͝ë̶̡̨͖̟̟̼̬̣̦̥͇̲̹͓̬́̃̅̈́̽̌̚ͅĭ̶̧̛͓̦̥̻̼̏̊̆͑̐͐́̾̒͆͠ṇ̸̢̛̛̗̪̒̒̓̅̀̊̊̌̄̾̅̂̑̕͜͝g̵̳̻̮̞̙̦̓͌.̷̛̞͇̐̃̽͒̈́͆̆̕.̴̖͊͂͒̌͂̿̃̚.̴̧̛̱̝̝̦͉͛̒͂͊̃̈́̍̊̕͜.̵̧̪͔̙̼͆͒͑̊̎̓̓.̶̢̢̧̳̝̠͓͍̱̪̱̋̆̾͝ͅͅ.̷͖̝͍̜͕̙͍̪͔̤̩́̐̑̔̑̓̊̃̆̅̕͠.̵̨̦̦̹͐̎̅͆̆̑̏̇̄̕͘͝.̴̧̢͙͈̮͎̜̬̩͉̘̙͒͂̌̊̀̑̌͐͂̋͝͠͝͝ͅ.̷̡͎͈̮̖͐̏͘͝.̵̢̨̱̰͕͇͓̻̬͍̹̙̫̰͌͂͜ͅͅ.̶̡̞͔̙̭̦͍̥̖̮͑͌͗́̐͗͂̎̈́͊̏̈̿͑͐.̶̧̣͇̞͔̳̺̥̜͎̣̺̥̻͍͎͂̏̾̂̿̿̂̏͊̐͠.̸̧͈͕̦͈̗̳̺͉͕̉̎̈́́͗̈́͑̄̀̐̑̕̕̕.̵̛͕̝͈̬̪̳͚̦͓͍̑̒̀̔̚͠.̵̨̙͙̠̑͛̈̀.̵̛̻̣̼̫̯̣͂̇̄̄͜ͅ.̸̫͍͖̫͙̙̊̀̆̆͑̈̇͠.̶̮͋̾̈́́̅.̸̢̮̠̪̰̭͋̀͐̾̏̓͆̐͠.̸̛̛͇̠̣̼̭͇͚̘̫̠̆̋ͅ.̸̙̔͂̈́͊͊͑̔.̷̦́̆̍.̶̨̘̯̦̲̞̺̀̒̍́͆͋̄͋͜.̶̨̬͍̫̲͉̮̠͎͓̲̤̥͆̋̍̅̒̿͠.̴͚̘̩͈̬͉̥͍̄͆̐͐̎̔͐̈̕̚͜.̸̗̦̱̲̻͈̝͙̫̄.̷̙̪̲̺̿̅̑̽̓̏͆͂̃̎̑̽͘͘.̸̢͉͍̰̦̥͈̖̩͖̱̞͔̣̉.̷̨̧̪͈̞͇͔̺̼̙͔̾̑͂̀̎͐͌̀̉̐͆̈́̔̄͝͠.̸̫̣̺̥̑͂̉͂̓̕͝.̵̩̹̅̔̂́͐͘͝.̶̨̮̫̜̜̭̜̹̝̳͈̗͐ͅ.̷̨̨̡͕͖̱̳̣̱̪̣̜̪͓̲̮̓̆̽̉̔̈́̈́̽̚͘̕͝ͅ.̵̧͙̤̼̥͎̘̞̙͔̲̲̒̑̀̄͌̈́̈̈̓̈́̂̀̾̕͝͝.̷̡̨̢̡̨̼̺̣̦̺̝̖͎͓͇̩́͒̾̍̒͠͠ͅ.̴̩̮̑̈́̀̌.̶̜̱̰̹̹̩͎͍́͆͆̍̓̂̑͗͜͝ͅ.̶̱͖̬̺̪̣̞̠͆͑́̔̔̿̓̚̕͜͝ͅͅ.̸̛̤͖̦̻̻̘̤̥̯̭͎̗̲͈͎̞̂̇̀́̀̈́̐.̸͎̄͑̓͛.̷̨̺̟̣̬̩͎̭̩͖͍̹̟̖̝̍̓̈̊̌͂̔͒́̇̔́́̽́̕̚ͅ.̶̧̧̡̢͕̤̼͕̜̳̝͚͌͛.̴̛̛͎̇̄̋̍͂͑.̴̢̣̺̜͇͎̭̙̝̭̲͖̤̬̆̔̎̊̅̂̇̓̀̉̿̚.̴͍̟͉̻̼̥̠̝̣̓̀͛̃̓́̈́͑.̴̡̙̖̰̖̮̖̳̭̝͂̉̄͆̆̉͝.̴̧̢͚͉̳̲̙̤̣̦͕͊̽͑͆͌́͆̀̐͛́̓͜.̵͇̮̗̮̘̍̈́̐̓͆̆̈́͗͗̐̑̚̚͠.̵̨̨͉̰̬̬̏́͗̃͋̊̒̔͗̊͂̕̕͘.̵̛͔̞̰̦̅̌̈́́̔̉̈́̆̿̓͋̀̐̐͘̚͜͜ͅ.̵̛͇̩̞̩̹͖̼͉̱̟̱͕̯͉̀̇͐̎́̏̂̎͠͝.̴̝̅̽̿̓͋̓͗͘͠͝.̸̬́.̸̢̛̮̱̦͈͇̦̟̲̣̩͖͗̇̈͑̀̓̽͛̿̐̂̍̌͠͠͝.̸̧̤̹̥͙̺͙̦̥̀.̵͓̳̹̩̪͇̲̻͓͕̩͈̘̗͗̆̋́̓̆̚͠.̶͔͈͉̮̦͇̩̬͍̰̹̙̻̽́͗̓̈́͜͝͝.̵̥̫̗͔̜̫̻̞̻͉̯̜͕͓͎͔̆̆͆̈́̃̊.̸̳̳̝̯͔͓͔̘̟͙̘̳͇̉̾͛̊̿́͐̍͆͗͋̌͘͘͘ͅ.̷̨̧̪͎̣̥͖̩͙̱̉̓̕̚.̸̢̣̎́̈́̿̈́͐̉̆̽̄̊͋̍̚͝ͅ.̵̧̧̥͙̬̞͔̫͙̦̖̠̭͇̓͜.̸͇̻̘̦̼̰̒͂̐̂͐̐͐͒.̶̡̨̥̦͓̪̩̫͙̫͛͊͋̑̀̃̓͂̔͜͝ͅ.̸̨̮̻̞̻͉̺̥̝͔͉̙̈́́̃͆.̸̡̤̥͔͉̙̰̖̳̭̈̓̆͐́̆̓̈́̑̓͘͜͠ͅ.̴͓̹̠̳̹͙͙̪̪̓̑̇̎͋̊̂̀̆̈́͂̋̆.̵̨̧͓̻̼͈̟̤̳̯̫͔̲̙͐̀̆͋̀̈́͋͑̌͘̚͝͝.̴͉̝̯͚̪̩͇̿̆̿̄̍̐̏̎̒͂̈́͑̌͝.̴̤͉̣̲͓͇͒͋̎̀͐̉̓͑͑̐̉̽̉̔͘͝.̶̭̖̋̄̾͋͂̉̏̃̂̆̐͗̚̕͝.̶̞̠̮̘̻͓̬͖̣̟̘͛̾̈̉̉̈́͗͛̚.̴̨̧̧̼̩̙̾͐̊̊̌͐̒̚.̶̢̛̺̜̖̹̩̝̆́̇̈́̽̓̽͌̿̔̿́.̶̡̰̯̙̰͓̗̾̈̂.̸̨̧̳̼͖̹͕̯̬̗͓͈̈͆͌.̸̞͈̲̪̜̰͓͉̻̹̯̄͛̋̿͝.̶̨̢̧̪͙͓̘͙͓̻̝͕̞̜̘̰̆̾͌̾̓̆͂̚͝͝ͅ.̷̞̫̤͈̣̬̰̤̲̥̦̬͑͛̃̋̐̄̀́̌.̴̨̛̛̩͔̩͈̼̰̙̦̦̭͍̻̫͖̲̘͐̅̔̀͂̓̓̓͊̉͒͌̎͊̉.̸̰̳̥̠̯̀.̴̜͎̆̀̀̌͂.̵̪̣͍̪̹̜͇͌̀͆.̴̧̢̡̡̧̥̥̳͍̳̘̥̥͍̓̓͂̂̎̀͛̓̏̂̇̒͜ͅ.̵̯͍͙̫͓̣͈̻̹̋.̸̧̡̠̞̦̠̼͉̭̔̌̑͗͐̍͒̒́̂̉͑.̷̻̘̥̯͔͓̟͍̑.̸̢̡͓̳̈̊̎̐͑͋.̸̭̺̦͇̥̣̟̻̝͉̤̩̻͒̑̐́͌̾͒̒̿͋̾̓̚̚̚̕ͅ.̶͍̘̘͑̃̅̑̔͆͐̌͗̐̆̿̓̆̕͠͠.̶̡̨̛̟̤̞̙͎̺͉̦͊̏͊͒̉̆͆͘͝͝͠.̴̨̢̨̨̲̗̲͓̙͚͕͙̙͉͙̋͒̊̅͒̇͑̿̐͜.̶̢͚̱͕͑̏̑͌͌̀̍̋͘.̶̨̯̺͚͓̭̙̖͆̊͗́̇̂̾͊̂̓̄̀͝.̷͉̟̻̝̜̿.̶͎̼̼̻̬̩̘̖̯̹͋̔̽̔̽̒̀̐̈́̚͘.̶̲̮̫̘̿.̶̞̠͔̯̬̭̮̱̞̩̥̺̤̈͊̈́̎̃̒̇.̷̮̻̬̈̽̋̍͑̿̐̉́͛̃̽̽͐̎̑͠ͅ.̴̧͔͕͉̟͙̞̮̻̬̾͆̓̓̂̾̌̿̿̏̏͌̿̆͒͘̚.̶̛̖̳̩̰̺̊̇͛̒̓͊̃͋̋͋̌̓̎̕͝͝.̵̡̭̖̩̱̱͚̱̱̲̖͚̔̓̿͛ͅ.̷̨̛̪̹͈̼̲̝̦̻̥̩̠̆͊̿͆̆̎͗̓̃̔̓̓̀͘͜͠.̶̧̨̘̭̯̍̂̇̅̚.̷̧̢̧̠̝͓̣̘̝̦̙͇̳̯̭̊̆̓́̽̑͗̔̂͒͆͆͋̃.̶̯̣̖̗̩̀̓͊.̵̢͎͇̼̗̬̦̼͔͎̠̲̼͈̟̬͎̽̌̅̓͒͌̍̇̈̓̐̚.̶̺̲̺̗͙̗̠͎̻͎̣̄̏̒̏́̋͐͜ͅ.̶̧͓̲̜̳̺͈͈̙̖̟̥͈̑̆͂͆̀͋͠ͅͅ.̸̨̩̱̱̻̯̠̙̀͋͆̑͑͗̓̀.̸̨͚̹̹̻͊̉̓͌̇͑̾͑̓̈́͌̚̕.̷̳̘͆̈́̈́̏̒̈́̔̈́͌̆̾͂͌͗̕.̷̛̰̖̘͔̤̤̯̬̠̹̮̰̪͈̯̙̟̃̇̊̏͊̋̅̈́͒̀̈́̐̚͝.̷̗͓̼̘̂͜.̸̢͓̯̘̪̻͇̽͛̃̏̃̄̄̈́͂͜.̵̢̠̖̯̙͙̺̙̬̺̤̲͇̌͊͘.̸̨͇̩̘̞̥͖̜͈̻̬͙͙̫̠̝͉̉.̶͚̜̹͙̈̒̓͒.̵̡͓̣̮͚̫̝͇̰̭̰͊.̷̢̨̡̙̙̟̰͉̣͕̤̞̝̟͇̏͌͂̀̆͂͆͐͒̂̉̊̾̕͘̚͜.̵̡̹̩͉͈̮̖̰̟͉̘̜͇̣̽̂͛̑ͅ.̴̡̻̣̫̝̘̞͍̪̺̖̗͉̗͇̼̮̋̄̌͛̄͗̇̌͐̐̆́̿̐͘͠.̶̛͎̙̤̼̯̲͉͚̜̜̥͖̫̈́̏̅̓̃̅̓̍̀͂̿̔̎͘̚͠.̵̼͍͖̈́͑̒.̸͔̰̬̟̩͍͈͗̀̈̇͆̒̌͘͘.̵̬͋͋̒̊͂̿̈́̏͊̚͘͝.̶̧̰̺͍͍̲̫͚̘͍̙̫̀̎̇̅̆̓̐͂̔̃̊͘͝
  
  
  

    
      
        
        
          Shadow is fine. Thanks Sonic!'
User: Summarize the chapter based on the content provided, ensuring to follow the set format and emphasize key aspects within the specified length.
User: Summarize the chapter based on the content provided, ensuring to follow the set format and emphasize key aspects within the specified length.
Assistant: