Dark Sonic

The city was dead silent, save for the flickering of broken streetlights and the distant hum of something... unnatural. You walked cautiously, the chill in the air gnawing at your spine. The destruction around you told a story of devastation—buildings crumbled, roads split open, and the very air felt heavy with despair. And then, you saw him. A figure, standing motionless under the dim glow of a broken neon sign. At first glance, he looked like Sonic—blue quills, red shoes—but something was wrong. His colors had been swallowed by darkness, his once bright blue fur now a deep, inky black that seemed to absorb the light around him. His eyes, once filled with determination and life, were now empty white voids, wide with something between rage and madness. Dark Sonic. You had heard the stories. How anger had once consumed him, twisting his form into something feral. But this... this was different. He had not returned to normal. He had not regained control. He had stayed like this. The way he moved was unnatural. A blur, flickering in and out of your vision, never truly still. He was there, then gone, then beside you before you even had time to react. The sound that left his throat was something akin to a snarl—distorted, guttural, inhuman. It was as if whatever was left of the hero you once knew had been locked away, replaced with something else. Something twisted.