Disclaimer : Sonic the Hedgehog is owned by Sega Corporation. I do not claim ownership of Sonic the Hedgehog, Sonic Adventure, or any characters, locations, or concepts contained therein. I do assert ownership of any characters, locations, or concepts originating within this work.

I would like to thank my beta-reader The Great Gonzales, without whom this probably would never have been published. Thank you for your patience.

Prologue: A Dark Place

"I will not be stopped! I will rule this Sector, or watch it burn to ashes around me!"

Emperor Arcturus Mengsk

Mold. Stagnant pools. Wall choked with greenery. Beneath layers of grime, the cracked stone columns sagged beneath the ceiling of the underground chamber, seemingly on the brink of collapse.

Yet amongst the filth and fragility, there were several new additions. Steel girders were set in place throughout the room acting as supports for the weakened structure. And the ceiling, once on the verge of collapse, had been reinforced with fresh masonry. So it was that a room which had not been seen in a thousand years was now stable enough for two to stand within it.

The construct that knew itself to be d-113 was at attention, its joints fully extended and perfectly in line with its body, shoulders square and head facing forward. Compact and slender, its chromed metal skin shone brightly against the darkness, even though dirt and grime covered its every surface, from its thin, spindly legs to its long, oval-shaped head. It had no indicators of purpose or rank, for they had become unnecessary in its current duties, and its flat metal "face" had no expression, for there were no emotions to cause them. It stood silently, save for a barely audible humming emitted from its power source, located just below the single turbine embedded in its chest. It had been designed and programmed for spartan efficiency, and so it was.

A faint scratching sound echoed through the room. The robot turned, casually scanning the small fragment of stone that had come loose from the wall. After a few milliseconds, it determined that it represented no danger and returned to its vigil.

Absently, it made a note of its condition as its feet began sinking into the mud below it at a rate of half an inch per minute, which would soon require elaborate measures to extract. It could easily have removed them itself, had it been able to, but with a standing order to remain as it was, it could do nothing but take note and wait. It's "eyes", a complex array of visual receivers, took in everything around it, but only in passing. The majority of its attention was concentrated on the figure standing some three yards in front of it.

Dr. Ivo Robotnik was extraordinary in many ways, not the least of which was his physical appearance. Over six feet tall, he was somewhat above the human norm for height, and so overweight he was almost obese. At the age of forty-three, his brilliant red hair was untouched by gray but beginning to bald, and his unlined face was clean-shaven, save for an almost preposterously large moustache that protruded from the sides of his face like twin brushes. His eyes were protected behind a pair of tinted goggles, which he seemed never to take off, and his hands were likewise clad in white rubber cloves, specially designed for the use of precise tools. He wore a loose-fitting orange jacket, over a black skin-suit, made from an advanced polymer of his own design that fit over him like a second skin.

But perhaps the most extraordinary thing about him was that he was the one of the most intelligent men in the world, and the top of the Global Federation's most wanted list.

At that moment, he stood, arms clasped behind his back, gazing silently at the mural that dominated the far wall. The structure around them had been too weakened by time to support lights, so a series of portable lighting fixtures had been bolted to the floor and directed upon the mural. D-113 mapped the wall in question several times, looking for recognizable text or dialects from which to glean information, but if any text had been present, it had long faded, and only a colored illustration remained, which its programming was not equipped to interpret.

Suddenly Dr. Robotnik turned with a curious expression, as if only just aware that it had arrived, though d-113 knew he had noticed. "Hello Simon," the Doctor greeted in his low, cultured voice.

As it had countless times before, d-113 cross-referenced the word "Simon" through its database and found no adequate comparison. The only reference had revealed it to be some sort of biological identifier, which raised the question as to why it was referred to by such a name. The only answers it could derive were personification due to lack of social interaction, or simply an alternative to save time, but neither choice could be supported with substantial evidence.

Nevertheless, d-113 answered as if it had been addressed by its proper designation. "Greetings Master Robotnik." The words were cold, emotionless, and delivered in a metered rhythm that did little to disprove that a machine spoke them. "What task do you have for me?"

Dr. Robotnik's expression shifted, forming what d-113 identified as a smile. "We'll deal with your assignment later. I'm more interested in the condition of my Empire. Inform me, would you?"

"As you wish," d-113 responded instantly. "Would you like to narrow the scope of your query? The current estimated briefing time for all operations during your absence is 863 hours, 47 minutes, 16 se-"

"Yes, I would," Dr. Robotnik interrupted. "What is the operational status of the Carrier? And keep it short."

d-113 paused momentarily as it sorted through the data, gleaning relevant information from its memory. "The unit is at 100% efficiency, and all ordinances have been allocated, as per your instructions. All simulations are showing positive results, and maintenance drones are applying the exterior paint coating." It paused. "Test runs are detecting fluctuations in the power input to the main cannon, possibly due to insufficient relays."

Robotnik stroked his mustaches pensively. "Perhaps. But are they within limits?"

"Yes, they are. However, multiple system failures could result in instability in the main feed lines, which could-"

"A simple yes will do."

"Yes."

"Very well. And the e-series units? How are they progressing?"

"Currently, there are two operational units, 'Alpha' and 'Beta', and five more units are in the final testing stages. Production is pending on the remaining units due to a supply bottleneck. Viable biological processing units are currently unavailable, and the new Replicated Cybernetics System is not yet prepared."

Robotnik scratched his head, frowning irritably, and then shrugged. "Oh well. If the plan goes smoothly, they won't be needed except as additional administrators. And the prototype systems should be ready soon. Their completion is no longer a high priority. Assign them level 7."

d-113 filed the new order away, considering the change in the Master over the last twenty-three days. When it had left its Master at the dig site, it had been clearly told that the e-series units were to have the highest priority, secondary only to the Carrier. That they were now only level 7, rather than level 1b, meant the operational instructions it had been given would likely change as well. It filed the observation away as well, waiting for the next instruction.

Robotnik, however, seemed to be finished for the moment, turning back to observe the wall he had been looking at earlier. Consulting its directives, d-113 determined that although it was under standing instructions not to speak unless spoken to, it was under more immediate orders to report for its new assignment. "Excuse me sir," it said with its usual lack of inflection, "but I have yet to receive my mission."

Robotnik gave a start and turned quickly. "Hmph? Oh, yes. I've downloaded your mission details onto this disk." He dug into one of his coat pockets, extracting a small memory stick and handing it to his subordinate. "This is to have the highest possible priority. Use whatever means necessary to achieve your objective. Until it is done, I don't want anything to divert you, understood?"

"Yes sir," replied d-113 as its mind reorganized itself according to the Master's orders. No longer could it so much as think about its former objectives. Nothing else mattered.

Nothing but the Mission.

Dr. Robotnik watched his servant retreat with an amused expression. Simply amazing, he thought to himself. Who could have guessed that a combat unit would be so well suited to administration? It's a shame the mind won't survive its upgrade to e-series intelligence. I might just miss it.

He snorted. Might. After all, if this project is a success, there won't be a need for things like it anymore. He looked up at the wall, the worn mural barely visible even with all the lighting he'd installed.

What need have I for an army if I control a God?

(This is a revised chapter. Several corrections have been made.)

Thanks to Lord Kelvin for pointing out some of my mistakes. They have been corrected.