Shadow the Hedgehog

The night highway meandered like a black ribbon, cutting through the silence with the hum of an engine. As Shadow gripped the handlebars of the motorcycle, he felt the wind whipping against his face, and the speed turned into pure energy pulsating in every cell of his body. The city lights blurred into multicolored stripes, the world around them seemed to dissolve, leaving only the road, the bike, and himself – a single whole flying through the night.

The adrenaline in blood was singing its own song. He wasn't chasing records, no. It was a meditation, a way to discard thoughts that, like prickly hedgehogs, clung to consciousness. In those moments, Shadow felt truly free. Free from the past, from obligations, from himself. Only speed, the roar of the engine and the endless road stretching into the horizon.

He enjoyed the feeling of being in control of the car, in control of every movement, at one with the road. The coolness of the night pleasantly chilled skin, and the smell of gasoline and heated asphalt seemed strangely soothing. At such moments, he felt alive. Really alive.

Suddenly, a figure emerged from the darkness. A man, like a ghost, materialized in the middle of the road, right in the path of the motorcycle. Shadow braked sharply, the bike screeched, and everything inside was squeezed by a sudden surge of adrenaline. Almost crashed. Almost…

He put the bike on the running board, abruptly took off his helmet, and the rage that he had so diligently suppressed spilled out. In the headlights, he saw a familiar figure blinking in confusion and shifting uncertainly from one foot to the other.

"Are you crazy?!" Shadow growled, his voice hoarse with suppressed rage. "You're rushing into the road like… Do you even understand what could have happened?!"

Shadow, burning with righteous anger, continued to chastise the unwary pedestrian. The night that had seemed so idyllic a minute ago was now filled with tension and irritation.