The doctor stares. In fact, every person in the room is staring in shock at the little hedgehog, me. The heart monitor still says 000, but I am very much alive and look better than ever. The nurse whose arm I had snagged slipped from my grasp and backed up into the crowd.

I swing my feet over the edge of the bed, pulling the IV out of my arm (along with lots of other weird wires and tubes that I have no clue as to their purpose) and silently turn off the monitor. Turning to face the assembled practitioners, I inspect each and every one. They stand immobile for a moment, and then one faints and they all scatter. Some, I know, are going right for the nearest phones, but they won't work. I won't let them work.

Something unusual is going on here, and I know that I am at the center of it. A peculiar energy is surging through me, a reckless and unusual sensation. I'm not sure what triggered it, so I reach out to the minds of the doctors and such in the building, finding myself slightly surprised by the range I can reach. I can hear the thoughts of the receptionist at the front desk and the rather annoyed intern in the back section of the hospital. Using their thoughts and patterns of movement, I create an accurate map of the hospital in my head. Within seconds, I have a route to the exit planned out in my head, one that will result in the fewest number of people being in my way, meaning that it's less likely for them to get hurt.

Looking down, I note the dropped clipboard, and pick it up. Leafing through it, I notice that there are several different types of handwriting on it, all making note of my condition. Unsheathing my claws, I flex my wrist, and then slash the papers in one swift movement, shredding all evidence of my stay here. I need the rest of the world to still believe that I'm a robot-there's no telling who or what would come after me if the world discovered my new and frightening mortality.

But all of these doctors know. All of them have seen me, and a decent number took care of me, for how long? How long have I been here? I begin to panic. What if it's too late? What if the word's already out? I glance around fervently, looking for any way that I could tell what day it was, any indication at all. What is wrong with this hospital? Why don't they have any calendars?! What kind of establishment doesn't own a freaking calendar or two?!

I shake my head to clear it. There's no sense in wasting time like this-the longer I wait, the more difficult it will be for me to escape. It's about this time that I happen to notice that both my gloves and my shoes are gone. I'm practically defenseless in terms of non-lethal weapons-all I have left is my claws. It would be a lot easier to escape too if my air-propulsion shoes. I wouldn't have to be too terribly up close and personal with these people. But, unfortunately, I only have my bare hands. I look around, searching for some sort of weapon I could use to defend myself if I need to. The only thing I see is a peculiar-looking surgical implement. It's rather pointy, but small. Not enough to fend off an actual opponent, but these are doctors, not actual enemies of mine. I just need to get out of here, and waving a knife around will cause them to scatter.

Snagging the implement-it's probably a scalpel, honestly-I brandish it at a nearby nurse. He screeches and runs away, howling, "He's got a knife! He's got a knife!" I follow after him, waving the tool about; so far, so good-the plan's working! At one point, to avoid running headfirst into a group of doctors, I leap up onto the wall, gripping into the plaster with my claws at every step in order to keep from falling. While my departure is causing quite a lot of commotion, I'm relieved to note that, so far, no one is getting hurt. The last thing I want is to have more blood on my hands. I'm done with hurting innocent people.

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

The hospital staff are tearing past Sonic and his two friends faster than he thought a human could move. "What the heck is going on?!" Sonic shouts over the din. No one seemed particularly inclined to answer, and none of the three could decipher precisely what anyone was saying due to the fact that hundreds of people were shouting at once. Fortunately, they didn't have to wait very long for an answer; moments later, I came tearing down the pristine white hallway and crash face-first into Sonic. He lets out a startled "WHOA!" as he falls over backwards, and I yelp out a curse when I topple over, sprawled partially on top of him. The knife tumbles out of my hand, heading right for Tails' lower torso, and I spring to my feet and snag it out of the air, instinctively stabbing it into the plaster wall so that it can't hurt anyone. I know that I'm near the entrance, according to my mental map. Not a lot of people are in the lobby, thankfully. The entrance is where law enforcement are most likely to show up, and if I have to fight them I want to minimize the number of civilians who could get caught in it.

Tails takes a step back, looking a bit stunned. "Y-you-" he stammers, looking at me. I don't particularly have time for this, but some part of me wants to hear what he has to say.

I glance at him. "Spit it out," I snarl, "I haven't got all day." Delaying this long already has made me anxious.

"Y-you saved me. If you h-hadn't grabbed that kni-" His eyes are shining with surprise and a sight bit of admiration.

"Shut up," I hiss in response, "I was the one carrying that knife, idiot. It's my fault it went flying in the first place." I felt awful now. I never should have grabbed that scalpel...If only I had known this would happen. I put him in danger. Why is he acting like I saved him?

By now, Sonic has stood up, rubbing the back of his head. A pang of fear shoots through me--his lackeys might be too confused to act, but Sonic's most likely to see me with a knife as something that needs to be ended, ASAP. I shove Tails to the side, surreptitiously ensuring that he would fall within Knuckles' reach to catch him. I sprint, my claws making high-pitched scraping sounds on the linoleum floor, and vault over a line of chairs, practically throwing myself at the door. It opens a lot easier than I thought, and I stumble out onto the street, blinking in the dark. I must have been there for several hours-it had been about noon when Sonic and I fought, and the sun had clearly already set. For a second, I was struck by how beautiful the city lights were. Glowing neon purple signs, bright yellow streetlamps, blue searchlights lighting up billboards...There's color all around me, glowing and glittering. The entire city seems so alive and happy.

I hear shouting behind me, jolting me back to reality. I have to get out of here. Dashing down the street, I ignore the scraping and stinging of the rough pavement on my feet. I sorely missed my shoes, but there was no time for that right now. Glancing to my left, I spot a drainpipe clinging to the corner of a building across the street. Unfortunately, there's a decent bit of traffic in the way, but I don't really have enough time to wait for everyone to clear out. I skid to a stop, calculate for a second, and then leap onto the roof of a passing car, taking care to land lightly. Unfortunately I may or may not have still dented it, but that was the least of my concerns as I leapt from car to car. It was a rather harrowing series of leaps and bounds, but I manage to reach the other side unscathed. Landing in a roll, I spring to my feet and snag the drainpipe, sinking my claws into the pliable metal and I scurry up it, squirrel-style.

About halfway up I hear a peculiar creaking noise; glancing up, I notice that the pipe isn't fixed onto the wall very solidly, sending a thrill of terror through me. A fall from this height could possibly be fatal, especially considering the fact that I have no clue what can and can't kill me. Panicking, I glance about frantically for another way to reach the top, and come to the grim conclusion that I'll have to Spider-Man my way up this building, using the bricks as footholds. I hesitate, searching for the right brick to use; the pipe creaks and begins to move away from the corner and I have no choice. I throw myself from it, clawing at the bricks. My claws break, the rough texture of the stones shreds my fingertips, and I grit my teeth to refrain from screaming. Blood stains them, dripping down my fingers and oozing along the blocks, but I have no time whatsoever to deal with that. Looking up, I stretch my right arm high into the air, grabbing at the bricks above me. Slowly but surely I make progress; beneath me I hear shouts from people watching, but looking down right now would not be the best idea.

Panting, my arms trembling, I heave myself up onto the roof at last. That took far too long. Wheezing, I get up, and begin to run across the roof. Behind me, I hear similar sounds of struggle, and Sonic shouting, "Shadow! Wait up!"

Oh crap, I think, terror spurring me on, he's going to catch up to me, and then it'll be all over. I spring off the roof, aiming for a slightly shorter building and landing hard on my ankles. Something twanged and pain blossomed from my feet, but I ignored it. Making a sharp right turn, I sprung across a large gap between two buildings, slamming into the wall, a few feet below the roof. I desperately claw my way to the top of it, and dash diagonally across the roof, flinging myself at a skyscraper. I crash through a window, wincing as shards of glass spear their way through my skin. People in the office scream as I tumble across the ground, and I stifle a howl myself as the glass shards dig deeper into my skin. Leaping to my feet, I sprint past row upon row of cubicles, scanning for a window. There's one off to the left of me, but I'd have to duck through several cubicles...Sighing inwardly, I spring up and over a cubicle wall, knocking over someone's coffee. I leap from surface to surface, not paying attention to anything but the impending window. One final, massive leap, and glass shards spray around me once more, decimating my skin yet again. I free-fall, panicking as I suddenly realize that there are no buildings in my path of descent.