Darkness. Shadow had long lost track of how long he’d been locked in Yuji Naka’s torture dungeon/laundry room. With no windows or light source. hours had flowed into days, days into weeks, and weeks into months. Shackled to the wall, his only company the throbbing hum of the washing machine and the whirring of the dryer. He had even given them names. The washing machine was called Peter, and was the shitty roommate of the laundry dungeon. Constantly making noise, vibrating around the floor, and generally being a dick for no reason. The dryer, Seann (with two n’s) was a nicer fellow, only living in this apartment until he could finish his master’s in electrical engineering, and was a much more well-rounded and down-to-earth fellow than Peter. Together they made quite the odd couple, Shadow had imagined. Their zany adventures had kept him amused for many nights as he imagined countless arguments between Peter and Seann, their crazy antics, and the relationships they each went through- OH GOD JESUS MY EYES

The lights blasted on. Yuji Naka had installed several 120-watt light fixtures throughout the laundry dungeon. Shadow winced in pain as the harsh illumination of Yuji’s bulb seared his retinas, tears forming at his eyes. Oh no, thought Shadow. Not again.

Shadow hadn’t heard the telltale noisy buzzing of Peter’s alarm. From what he could tell, Peter wasn’t even on his spin cycle. This could only mean one of two things - either Master Naka’s water heater was broken (again), or it was time for Shadow’s… punishment. For a brief eternity, Shadow hoped it was the former. But he realized his fate was sealed as he watched the feet of a freshly showered Yuji walk down the shitty basement staircase (the kind with only the tread hooked to the stringer - no risers. You know the kind, google it)

Shadow watched Yuji Naka move across the room, Mr. Naka barely acknowledged the victim chained to his wall as he made his way to the keypad on the other side of the room. After several beeps and a loud BZZT, two panels to his left opened with a whirr and receded into the wall. Shadow couldn’t quite make out what Yuji was grabbing, but he knew this cabinet well. It was Yuji Naka’s torture cabinet - a cabinet fiercer than the deepest depths of hell, containing enough creative instruments of torture to make Doctor Robotnik would blush like a Japanese schoolgirl being fingered in an erotic kabuki theater. What is it this time? Thought Shadow. Is it the whip? The Judas Cradle? That gun that shoots those stupid fucking blue balls of stuff from the Chemical Plant in Sonic 2? Maybe it’s a needle and he’s going to get me addicted to heroin again. Or maybe it’s - oh no. No. Nonononono

A deafening SCHLUCK sound ripped through the air as Yuji Naka’s first blow ripped into the gut of Shadow, who is a hedgehog. Yuji had grabbed those most fated of torture devices for Sega Hedgehogs - a pair of specialty brass knuckles, complete with long rigid spikes. Shadow looked down at his stomach to see his blood and innards spilling out, warming his cold poorly-circulated legs. He opened his mouth to scream, but no sound came forth - only the metallic taste of gold as dozens of rings came spewing forth from his throat. Yuji Naka had him hooked to a constant IV drop of liquid rings. Death was not an option for Shadow. Mere milliseconds before Yuji’s second punch landed, Shadow had been completely healed by absorbing another ring. His body was whole - new, but the pain and trauma lingered in his memory, like that of a phantom limb.

Another punch landed, this time in Shadow’s left ribs. Bones snapped. Flesh was rended. Shadow felt his lung collapse as he gasped for air, vomiting more rings into the laundry dungeon. Another horrible moment of agony, followed by the immediate completeness of the IV drip. Yuji’s next punch took out Shadow’s eye. The battered hedgehog could barely think, his world a blinding-hot whirlwind of anguish, rings, bone-snapping, metal, healing, blood, innards, sinew, and of course - Yuji Naka’s wordless fury. Two fists came down, caving in his skull rendering Shadow temporarily brain dead, grey matter oozing from his ears. Healed. Legs grabbed and snapped. Healed.

Head bashed into the cinderblocks.

Healed.

Throat punctured and collapsed.

Healed.

This went on for countless hours. Neither Peter nor Seann (with two n’s) offered any assistance, and the betrayal Shadow felt stung him harder than any brass knuckles could.