Never-ending headlights and infinite red taillights traced twisting, intersecting paths through the artificial valleys of a dark city of bright lights. They moved like glowing trails of ants far below the uncleaned plate-glass window, while neon lights glared straight in from across the street, above, below, and nearly all around. Even the black water just blocks away shimmered with the light of the rest of the city across the bay, disrupted only by the silhouettes of passing ships, themselves decked with lights.

Yet, somehow, it still felt very dark; the outside bustle did little to disrupt the tranquil gloom of the hospital room, and its quiet, humming, bubbling equipment, clean white beds, and glossy concrete floors. It all looked strangely industrial for a hospital, but, in contrast to the factory-like appearance, there was no noise. It was past visiting hours, and no one seemed to be doing much inside other than sleeping — not that anyone in a facility like that cared, or really had any concept of "visiting hours" anyway.

It was a former Eggman Empire medical care center. It had only changed hands some few days ago, so the only thing any different about it was that the Eggman logo and text had been ripped off the building, leaving just a bare patch and a big, spray-painted C in its place. It was still operating, and still accepting and treating the general public, but there was no longer any mention of the fat man anywhere, and that was a good thing for the most recent influx of patients.

One of which was none other than everyone's favorite alleycat, no doubt followed by any other members of his band of misfits that either saw fit to tag along for company's sake, or just needed medical attention themselves. On that note, it was quite the medical marvel-- dunk a specimen into a tank full of blue-green goop, set the timer to five or six hours, and bam-- perfectly healed protagonist, cooked to perfection. Courtesy of Eggman technologies' love for making sci-fi regular sci.

Speaking of, the 'timer' on Ace's pod beeped a triumphant ding (yes, a kitchen-friendly ding from the egg-shaped contraction, the inventor indeed had some misguided sense of humor), and the liquid began to drain. The lids of his eyes slowly fluttered to life, and this tired old alleycat suddenly felt like a freakin' lion. It was the best rest he'd gotten in, quite literally, weeks, and it took all his sense of decency to not blow open the chamber door with a ki blast or something. (Honestly, he probably could if he really wanted to.) But after a second or two of beeps and boops, the glass-like door took care of itself, and soon enough, Ace was stepping out in all his naked, gooey glory.

"Wow," he half-whispered to himself as he gazed into his own palms, almost amazed beyond words by his body, and the liquid steel his blood had become.

"Wait"

"..."

"Wait, where's the towels?"


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Casey remained (pleasantly) ignorant of Ace's wet-and-sloppy predicament. A few doors down, and a short jaunt down a quiet hall, the hog's unspoiled appetite was being satiated with some purely passable cafeteria food served by a robot with no sense of taste. It wasn't bad, really; it was hard to mess up rice and vegetables, or so he reassured himself as he doused the dry meal with ever more sauce.

What was Casey doing there, anyway? Truth be told, he had his own places to go, and his own things to take care of. He didn't need to visit the hospital, and he certainly didn't tag along for the food. However, something, perhaps pity, or maybe just his good nature, compelled him to stick with the gaggle of lost strangers until they found their way, and so he did.

Seated at his table overlooking a view out a window much like Ace's, Casey looked to have been there a while. A pile of his personal belongings (no doubt set down by Latika, his ongoing porter even beyond the mountains) was right behind him, while a little mobile device laying next to his plate projected a volumetric display in midair just over the table, rattling off news videos — news that he had missed while out in the snowy wilderness.

"While it was once thought that the end of Dr. Eggman's iron-fist regime would bring about a return to life as usual, many are questioning whether or not this may only be the beginning of much greater problems to come. Following the fragmentation of the Eggman Empire caused by mystery-organization Chimera's successful coup, conflict has exploded into a three-way struggle for power. Attempts made by remaining G.U.N. cells to rebuild facilities and armed forces have been largely suppressed by near-continuous aerial bombardment from Chimera fleets, while Eggmanland, still firmly rooted in what was once the heart of Central City, has expanded its footprint largely unchecked except for by the resistance efforts of a small, but dedicated few, including Sonic the Hedgehog himself.

"The waves of this conflict reach well beyond the shores of the United Federation. For the first time in nearly a century, the Glastonian nation of Cape Norden has reached out to the international community with a plea for assistance following the theft of what the Nordenian government calls 'a unique and potentially hazardous weapon.' Though nondescript in any public forum about the weapon's precise form or function, the call for assistance from the legendarily isolationist nation is in itself enough to seize the global community's attention and cement the seriousness of the claim."

Somewhere in the middle of that report (which continued blabbing on with ever-increasing misfortune), Casey seemed to have slowed his chewing, then stopped altogether, staring as if contemplating something with great concern.

Casey spared the hedgehog a fleeting glance and nod of acknowledgment upon his arrival, but otherwise stayed focused on what was in front of him.

"Our missin' train cargo's a global headline," he answered, nudging the device (and, in turn, its floating display) closer to Geoff, and making it replay for his benefit. "Looks like that, uh... capey... spear-guy? What's'is-name — he was actually tellin' the truth."

The hog took a moment to enjoy a couple more bites of mediocre cafeteria food.

"Oh, and in other news, the world's gone to crap. Well... it's already gone to crap. Let's say it's just gone to double-crap."

It wasn't long before a nurse strolled in. Perhaps it was a bit later than she should have, but given the nakedness of Ace, maybe it was timed that way, expecting Ace to already be in the shower. As she walked in, she kind of winced at the sight, looking away. In her arm, she held neatly folded clothes that greatly resembled Ace's usual attire, and a towel atop the pile.

The nurse doe walked over to a table and set the pile down, still holding onto a clipboard.