TGIF
by Asher Tye
Diclaimer: I don't own it, Sega does. All credit for character creation goes to them.
Author's note: This is going to get somewhat gruesome from a certain standpoint, hence why I'm rating it K+. If anyone thinks it needs to go higher, let me know and I'll change it. You have been warned that, though no blood is spilled at any point in this story, it can still be hard to read. This is intended to be set in the SatAM universe along with its companion piece "Relative," especially considering I feel that particular incarnation of Dr. R. to be vile enough to do this.
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With his nonexistent chin in his left hand, Snively let out a bored sigh as he tapped in a few keystrokes with his right, effectively ending the editing of the report he'd been spending the last hour of the day completing. A similar, though much deeper sounding, sigh came from behind him; indicating that his "esteemed" Uncle, Doctor Ivo Robotnik, was in a state of similar boredom. Immediately Snively's backbone (such as it was) went rigid.
Contrary to what the Freedom Fighters of Knothole might have thought, the rotund human was actually at his most dangerous, not when he was angry, but when he was bored. Anger caused him to act without thinking, to proceed without a plan. True he was capable of great cruelty when he was angry, but truth be told cruelty was just as much a personality trait on the part of Robotnik as obesity was a physical one. Angry Robotnik acted in a chaotic and destructive manner, but a person could easily weather the storm if they were lucky, cunning, or some combination of the two. Many was the time the Freedom Fighters had survived Robotnik in such a state simply because he was too busy being angry to close the noose around their collective necks, though they no doubt attributed it to their own, albeit very impressive, abilities.
Bored Robotnik was a different matter entirely. It was in this state that he got his worst and most horrible ideas to entertain himself. The elder human possessed a natural curiosity which, combined with his equally natural depravity, made him one of the most monstrous creatures in the planet's history, and both characteristics got a workout when the mad dictator sought out ways to entertain himself.
&If I broke Snively's nose at an angle, would it be less annoying, or more so? Is there a physical difference between the effects of toxic compound number fifty-six and fifty-seven when introduced to human lung tissue? Would placing Snively's head on a Tech-Bot improve his overall efficiency, or diminish it?& Though Snively was no doubt not always at the forefront of his Uncle's ugly questions, these were definitely ideas that the younger human knew Robotnik would think up.
The sound of a beep from the computer knocked the long nosed midget out of his worried state of mind. The report was finished. All it needed now was to be sent.
"And so our workday concludes," Robotnik announced from his master control chair. "Sometimes I find the day to day tasks of running my empire just so… so boring."
"If you didn't want to deal with maintenance, why did you take over?" Snively mumbled, preparing to leave for his own rooms. During what little downtime he got each day, the small human much preferred to spend it away from his obese relation and his eternally bad temper. Before he could move, however, a gloved hand clamped on young Snively's shoulder. For the briefest of moments Snively froze. Had Robotnik heard that last comment? What lie could Snively tell his Uncle that would sound similar but not be displeasing?
"Oh Sniiivvvleeeey," Robotnik called, an almost playful quality to his voice that his nephew both immediately recognized and dreaded. "If you would be so kind as to remind me, what day of all days is today, my loving nephew?" Of course Robotnik knew the answer; there was no way he couldn't. It was Snively who'd forgotten, for if he had remembered he would have found any means to be away from the city, even if the excuse was merely a flimsy and transparent pretext. A dead weight appeared in the small man's stomach as he understood there was most likely no escape, not if his Uncle wanted him to stay.
"It… It appears to be Friday, sir," Snively answered. Quickly Robotnik's hand left his nephew's shoulder, both hands now clapping together in a mocking imitation of a young child's glee as Robotnik stood behind Snively.
"Oh, this is most excellent and wonderful news, Snively. That it be Friday and you be here with me, why it just sets my heart atwitter with happiness." Desperate to escape what was to come, Snively grasped at straws he knew all to well to be flimsy at best.
"Right sir, just let me finish sending this report and I'll…" Robotnik's gloved hand reached over his diminutive relation, expertly shutting the computer terminal down with the push of a button.
"Bah, Snively, work can wait. It's Friday. Now is the time for fun, with the work week at an end." Suddenly Snively found himself turned around to face his grinning Uncle. "And oh how it warms my metallic heart to know that this week I will be able to have my fun with you, favorite Uncle to beloved nephew." Snively swallowed hard, defeated. There would be no way to avoid his fate now, even if he could somehow get his Uncle too angry to concentrate. Slowly Robotnik turned and prepared to leave, gesturing towards his "beloved" nephew with eyes hungry for his brand of fun. "Come Snively, it is family game night."
"Y… Yes sir, family game night." So saying, the short human followed.
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The elevator they had been riding in opened, letting the pair of humans off in the sub-sub-sub-sub-basement of the command center, a three room floor with no other access, that the Freedom Fighters did not know about… and a good thing too. Snively was fairly certain that if the Freedom Fighters ever found out about this little den of evil, they would storm Robotropolis en masse and tear Robotnik quite literally to pieces with their own claws… and Snively too, even if the dictator's assistant was very much against this nasty little funhouse.
Quickly the two stepped out and into the first room, a small space that held two lockers, a cabinet, and two standing shower stalls. With an expertise that bordered on the bizarre, Robtonik stripped off his uniform and placed it in one of the lockers, standing completely naked in front of an inwardly revolted Snively before entering the larger of the two showers. A glass panel encircled the doctor's body as he turned on the shower, causing, not water, but a chemical bath to fall upon him, scouring his body of all micro-biological life that rested on it. Even as he was physically nauseated by the sight of his Uncle's nude figure, Snively couldn't help but stare at Robotnik's right shoulder, seeing the intermeshing of the biological and technological elements that composed the Doctor's cyber-arm. It was somewhat unnerving to see just how completely the electronic and mechanical elements of the arm coexisted with the flesh and blood ones of the shoulder, with wires and metal seamlessly flowing from skin as though they had always been. The knowledge of what was to come made the sight all the more horrendous. Suddenly, the green suited human became aware of a dull tapping sound, and looked over to see his Uncle tapping impatiently on the glass window that cut him off from the rest of the room.
"Snively, you need to get ready," the cellulite laden monster announced, his eyes narrowing in annoyance. "You DON'T want me to begin without you, do you." The fact that the words came out as a statement of fact rather than a question was enough to spur the younger human into movement. Quickly removing and storing his own uniform, a naked Snively moved into his own stall, allowing the antiseptic chemical wash to cover his body. The beauty of the chemical was such that it dried almost instantly when exposed to dry air, meaning neither had to wait long before donning the white lab coats and pants found in the cabinet. Once more dressed, Robotnik took in a breath. "Ah, the freshness of being clean. Let's go Snively." With that, the doctor opened the second door in the room, allowing them to proceed further into he level.
He was already waiting, standing stiffly still as the pair entered the room, his robotic body unable to move. He was a worker-bot, specifically a cat, the lowest form of robotic life in Robotropolis, and undoubtedly this specimen was inefficient and breaking down. And yet, Snively knew what was about to happen to him was most undeserved, not something he would wish on his worst enemy… well maybe HIS worst enemy, but no one else. Next to the Robian stood a table upon which several restraints could be seen, and next to that a tray filled with instruments and tools. Once more Robotnik clapped his hands in anticipatory glee. Seeking even a small taste of revenge for being forced to participate in this horrible act, Snively chose to disrupt his Uncle's good mood.
"I trust you adhered to protocol in selecting our feline friend here?" Snively asked, not a hint of the disapproval he felt in the coming acts audible in his voice. It was hard to tell what galled Robotnik more; his nephew's attitude, or his question, but the smile dropped from the doctor's face.
"Yes, yes, you pernicious little bean counter," Robotnik reassured. "I followed your snitty little selection process." In the beginning, Robotnik had chosen his victims by a random number generator utilizing the worker-bots' serial numbers. More than a month of the more efficient and useful specimens being selected had forced Snively to point out that, with the Freedom Fighters becoming a bolder and more persistent danger to the two of them, it was actually hurting their cause to so blithely use up such valuable materials. Thus had it been decided that the worker-bot with the lowest efficiency rating for the week would be the chosen participant in the dictator's little venture, though Snively truthfully had no way to be sure Robotnik was adhering to this. Still, he trusted that his Uncle's sense of self-preservation would trump his sadistic desires for fun in the end.
"Worker-bot 3679-2143," Robotnik ordered, "lay down on the table." Silently the Mobian-turned-machine complied and Robotnik and Snively went to work engaging the restraints on the robot. Quickly the balding human fetched a white tarp with many odd shapes depicted on it and unfurled it on the ground, while the bald human activated the computer terminal that was in the room. "Well, Snively my boy, shall we begin?" Robotnik asked, smiling evilly. Knowing there was no answer he could give that would prevent this grisly exercise from commencing, Snively could only state the obvious.
"I believe so, sir."
"Computer," Robotnik commanded, "disable control chip for worker-bot, serial code 3679-2143." The effect of this command was immediate as the worker-bot's red eyes flared for a brief second before returning to normal. Slowly the small Mobian blinked its mechanical eyes, its head shaking as one who has just come out of a drunken stupor.
"Where-where am I?" the cat asked as his mechanical eyes, now under his control, refocused to allow him to see his surroundings. Metallic eyelids widened as he caught sight of Robotnik grinning over him, a smile of mocking benevolence that seemed the only kind the overweight man could show on the dictator's face.
"Welcome back to the world of the waking, my dear boy."
"Robotnik!!" the cat spat, convincing Snively that this was obviously not a Mobian who had been caught in the initial coup. Was it possible they had a Freedom Fighter on their sordid little table? Given all the trouble the Freedom Fighters had caused for him, Snively felt slightly more at ease over what was happening, though nothing could quell the queasiness that sat in his stomach.
"My, my, so nice to be famous," Robotnik said. "You should feel honored old boy, you're about to help with a rather major project I've had going for some time." Snively silently groaned, knowing the speech that was coming. It was the same magnanimous sounding speech Robotnik had given to all the awakened worker-bots he'd… "played" with, or at least all of the ones Snively had been forced to witness. "You see, little one, I have long been curious as to the specific effects of my beloved roboticizer, specifically as to whether or not it does away with the whole muddiness of 'biological variance' in favor of more uniform internal structure. To that end, I have been examining the internal components of several worker-bots over the course of my reign, noting differences and similarities between the differing species and individuals. You are the latest subject in my ongoing journey of discovery, and I have awakened your mind so that you might help me better understand what wonderful changes your body has undergone thanks to my endeavors." Here Robotnik stopped as he dropped his meaty hand into the nearby tray and pulled forth what, to all appearances, seemed to be a simple flat strip of metal. This illusion was dispelled however, as Robotnik's fat thumb slid along the edge of the instrument, causing what looked like a blade of red energy to extend from the unhandled end. "To that end, I'm going to disassemble you." The cat's eyes widened at the statement.
"Dis-Disassemble?!"
"Or dissect if you prefer, though the two are hardly synonymous terms," the evil doctor said. "Think of it as giving your life in the name of scientific advancement."
"You mean being a sick monster's plaything!" the cat spat.
&Bingo kitty-cat,& Snively thought as he opened an access port in the worker-bot's head, practically the only point on the robotic Mobian's body that gave legitimate access to the interior.
"Oh dear boy, you wound me," Robotnik feigned hurt. "And after all I've done to make this process safe and relatively painless. Take my thermal scalpel here for instance." Again Robotnik held up the glowing blade. "It used to be that to cut through your outer armor; I had to use an acetylene torch."
"Cut through me!?"
"Why yes my friend. Haven't you noticed? Roboticization fuses Mobian fur together into a single, almost complete, plate of metal, hence why I don't have any reliable way to perform maintenance on your fellows." Snively watched at the roboticized cat's eyes locked onto the bright orange blade of the thermal scalpel as it was turned upside down, pointing down at the restrained creature's helpless body. "But with a few quick incisions, I'll have yours removed in seconds." Snively's hands clamped over his small ears as the cat screamed when the energy blade was inserted into his metallic "flesh," the smell of burning metal assaulting the small man's overly large nose.
"Isn't it interesting Snively?" Robotnik asked casually to his nephew, as though they were simply eating dinner or some other mundane activity. "Were this cat flesh and blood, what I have just done would be comparable to a simple hair cut; and yet, now that he is metallic, and his own physical senses have been dulled, he screams as though I were tearing meat from his bones." Snively stopped checking the connections between the helpless Robian's brain and the computer terminal, looking at his Uncle with a face that relayed just how uninteresting it was to him. Unlike his last remaining kin, Snively had never acquired a taste for cruelty. He was no angel, to be sure, and was more than willing to inflict horrible pain and suffering on others to achieve his own goals, but that didn't mean he reveled in it like Robotnik. Cruelty for cruelty's sake was simply a waste of effort that could be spent in more pleasurable pursuits.
Realizing he was not going to get an answer from his nephew/assistant, the malicious megalomaniac turned his attention back to the squirming cat, dragging the blade he'd inserted just below the creature's neck down to his groin, leaving a long shallow cut in the formerly unblemished armor. He repeated the cuts along the cat's sides, starting at just under the armpits and ending just before the start of the legs at the hips. Three more cuts and the armor was ready to come off in two neat pieces, revealing the true robot underneath. With a gentle determination that was inspired more by a desire not to cause premature damage than concern for his subject, Robotnik pulled the plates free and set them to the floor. It was a paradox of the roboticizer that skin and fur traded attributes. Where once the fur had been soft and fuzzy, now it was smooth and hard, whereas the actual skin had become a mass of small wiring and pressure plates, a veritable mesh of electronics and wiring. Some of the smaller, hotter wires stuck to the retreating armor, snapping as it was pulled free and set to the ground. Robotnik's eyes grew wide hungry with delight.
"The connection is ready, Doctor," Snively simply stated, drawing his uncle's attention away from the cat.
"Connection?"
"I know this must all seem so very boring to you, being neither a doctor of medicine nor a doctor of engineering and robotics, so I've arranged a little walk down memory lane for you," Robotnik said as he turned on a giant monitor that hung screen downward above the cat. For a few seconds the lights of the cat's eyes flickered as a picture appeared of an obviously organic cat playing with a much younger female in what Snively recognized to be the park that had formerly existed in Mobotropolis, long since converted into a dumping ground for Robotropolis's discarded machinery.
"My, what a lovely little girl," Robotnik commented as he removed the similar armor around the creature's arms, legs, hands, and feet. "Your daughter I'm guessing." The cat was silent as he watched his memories displayed for him, but the picture changed to one of him working at a job, obviously indicating he did not want Robotnik looking at his precious offspring. "That's all right, you don't have to talk, simply listen." The sound of more metal plates hitting the floor resounded through the room.
"You're a sick, sick man, Robotnik," the cat, perhaps goaded by his tormentor's simple uncaring attitude, stated.
"That's actually a matter of opinion, I think. And since I'm the one in charge, what I think is pretty much fact."
"Sir, you might not want to use the thermal scalpel to cut through the sensory net," Snively said as he watched the red hot energy blade approach the helpless cat's transfigured skin. "You might fry something important."
"Quite true, Snively," Robotnik said, exchanging his favored knife for a more mundane one. "The last time I accidentally severed that poor mouse's power line, talk about a waste of a night." Snively could almost see it as the cat's inorganic body quivered from the minute pressure being applied to what had once been skin, delicately freeing the mesh from its place. With a giggle of disturbed glee Robotnik peeled away the mesh, finally revealing the mechanical muscles and organs beneath. With great care the villain removed as much of the cyberflesh as he could in one piece, handing the pliable net-like item to Snively to place on the tarp in what turned out to be its allotted spot.
"STOP!!" the cat screamed, his predicament sinking into his head as he saw his former skin in the hands of his enemy, his tormentor, and, soon he was all too sure, his killer.
"Oh hush," the fat human intoned. "It's not as though I'm actually hurting you." Grabbing a small screwdriver, Robotnik went to work on the machine-Mobian's struggling fingers, disconnecting the delicate servo motors that gave the fingers the power of motion. The cat jerked his arm futilely, trying to pull the rapidly disappearing appendage away as Snively was handed each part and placed each in turn on the tarp. Soon all that was left of the hand and forearm was the robot's structural features, his robotic bones. Snively could see and hear it as the cat gasped for nonexistent breath, obviously in a state of panic as he watched his body being methodically taken apart. "What next Snively? The other arm? Perhaps a leg? I would prefer not to start on the torso until the extremities have been examined."
"Stop, please!" the cat began to beg, closing his eyes as he tugged at his restraints.
"Now, now, if you can't be still I may have to disconnect you motor functions," Robotnik chided his irate "patient." "Why don't you just watch the screen, leave the 'surgery' to the professionals, hmm." With that, the rotund dictator pressed a button on the side of the table and two struts rose on either side of the worker-bot's head, holding it in place to involuntarily watch the screen which was now displaying the cat sitting amongst other Mobians in attendance of what appeared to be another's marriage ceremony. "Oh Snively, be a dear and find something entertaining for our friend here to watch." Obediently, but not happily, Snively fiddled with the memory machine's controls, forcing the cat's still cybernetic mind to sift through his memories as he searched for something that would please, not the true owner of these images, but the madman who sought only to cause pain.
Time passed as Robotnik continued with his fun, stopping only periodically to comment on some of the poor Mobian's more interesting memories as they played above. Again and again Snively, discarded parts in his hands, moved over to the set up tarp and filled it out. Beads of sweat formed on Robotnik's evil brow as he removed each piece, careful not to disconnect something important and prematurely destroy his plaything. For his part, the cat continued to yell, hurling all sorts of obscenities at the villain when he wasn't caught up in the parade of his own life before his eyes. As it turned out the Mobian had indeed been a Freedom Fighter, as Snively had suspected, in particular one from Knothole. For the briefest of moments Snively thought to suggest using this as an excuse to go fishing for information on the forest village's location, but one look at the Doctor's happy face told the younger human that, in here, protected by this room, his Uncle was no longer concerned with Sonic, Sally, or any of those who had plagued him for so long.
"Simply beautiful, isn't it Snively?" Robotnik asked of his nephew and co-conspirator.
"How do you mean sir?"
"Don't you see the majesty of design here, Snively? Have you not noticed the way the roboticizer has compensated for the inherent flaws in nature's design? Why it'd almost be enough to get me to believe in some divine creator who made it all… if it weren't for the fact that I had to improve on the design."
"No.. No more, please…" called the voice of the still conscious cat. Somewhere in the pit of his stomach, Snively felt sorry for the feline. Not sorry enough to even entertain the thought of intervening on the hapless creature's behalf, or even to give voice to his distaste for this particular bit of "fun," but he felt pity all the same. How long would it be before Snively himself wound up locked on this horrid table, the struggling plaything of a sadistic man?
"Snively, how is the tarp's progress coming along?" Robotnik asked, looking to his last living relative.
"Excellent as always sir," Snively replied as he placed the metallic rod that had once been the cat's humerus bone on the tarp in the outline that perfectly matched the structure. "Everything fits perfectly to within acceptable parameters of deviance."
"You Freedom Fighters think you're so special, so unique," Robotnik sneered as he pointed the wrench he was presently using to disconnect the drive motors located in the cat's hips at the tarp. "You rant and rave about the preciousness of life, of how absolutely unique all living things are, how they cannot be replaced. But here I do have proof that this is just not so." Recognizing a cue when he heard one, Snively moved over to the closet he'd originally gotten the tarp from, sliding its door completely open to display a fairly impressive collection tarps similar to the one that was unfurled on the floor, each one labeled with the name of a different species of Mobian.
"You're… you're a monster," the cat gasped, an amazing feet considering he no longer possessed lungs. A toothy, sadistic grin on his face, Robotnik started in on the torso.
"I'm curious to see how long you'll remain active," Robotnik commented, as though the cat hadn't even spoken. "You look fairly old… but then youth has never been a protection against being disassembled."
"Stop… Stop."
"I could you know," the human suggested as he pulled his tools back from the prone body, his massive face leaning into the cat's, his foul breath fogging the metal faceplate. "Even now, even if you were but a stripped down head, I could stop, I could put you back together," Robotnik confessed, an excited quality to his voice Snively had not heard since the roboticizer first came on-line.
"Please…"
"No-no, you don't need to beg me, I don't want you to beg me," the villain called, his voice becoming quiet. "If you were flesh and blood it would be different, but not now, not like this."
"Sir?" Snively asked. Their weekly routine may have been physically sickening to the small human, but it was still a routine, and Robotnik was breaking from it, a fact that only served to fill his nephew with dread.
"I could put you back together, good as new. Better even, with none of the flaws that got you here in the first place. And all you need do is say I was right, and you were wrong." Snively's eyes widened as the words left Robotnik's flabby lips.
"What?" Robotnik turned to his nephew, a look of pride in his eyes that seemed unholy.
"It's the truth, isn't it?" Robotnik began. "The Freedom Fighters decry me, demonize me, make up stories and pin blame to me of my intractable evil. And perhaps it is their prerogative to do so; given the circumstances we humble actors of Fate's stage find ourselves in…" The egg-shaped scientist spun on his heel back to his feline victim. "But in the end, who is really the one in the wrong. Princess Sally gives you only a life of hardship and toil out in the forest. While admittedly you must toil here within my city, it is not a life of hardship and danger, save for that which is caused by the Freedom Fighters themselves. And still you live on, where they do not."
"I wonder if they could ever understand and see the truth through my eyes. They take such care not to destroy those roboticized, never guessing the truth… that they can't!"
"W-what?"
"Look at you dear boy. Even now, even after all I have done, you are still functional, still active. If I so chose, I could melt the parts I've taken from you and put you back together with some other cat's arms and legs, and you'd be back to one hundred percent. And this gift I offer to everyone, for free."
"Not your gift… Sir Charles's…" At the sound of the elderly hedgehog's name, an enraged look overcame Robotnik's face and he jammed the screwdriver in his hand down on the robotic cat's chest. An eruption of sparks poured forth from the hapless Robian's vulnerable circuits as something broke free, causing the cat to scream in imagined pain. Immediately a robotic hand reached into the still sparking and pulled out the component that had just been broken, the power relay for the robot's heat build-up system; a critical part under normal circumstances. Lacking the ability to move and over generate heat however, this was reduced somewhat.
"Mark my words, Sir Charles may have created the roboticizer, but it is MY gift," Robotnik fumed. "That old fool made a machine that bestowed the power of the ages, and his first thoughts were to use it only on those HE deemed worthy. Had that fool of a King realized the power of this wondrous device, I'm sure it would have been even further regulated. Only I, in my infinite wisdom saw the truth. The roboticizer is not meant only for the sick and infirm, roboticization not meant only for those few who would waste its gifts in idle excess. It is power, it is destiny, and it is the next glorious stand in evolution, the transcending from puerile and weak organic life to the splendor and invulnerability of the mechanical!"
"Look at yourself my Mobian… my Robian friend. Your bioscan calls you old, you should not even be able to do the work have given you and survive, and yet here you are." A pleased, self-righteous smile crossed Robotnik's face as he gazed into the eyes of the switching cat. "Truly, be there any more benevolent being on this entire planet than me?"
"Balderdash!" the cat managed to spit forth, managing to steal Snively's attention away from his overly theatrical Uncle.
"What?" Robotnik asked in an amused voice.
"You're no benevolent benefactor, you're a monster. You don't grant strength you make slaves."
"I see," the ovoid human drawled. "And you feel strongly about this?"
"The Freedom Fighters may not have the protections your 'gift' confers, but they're free, they can do what they want, and they don't have to listen to a sadistic egg man." For a few brief moments, the cat's words even managed to lift Snively's little black heart from the depths of the pit known as his chest.
"How inspiring," Robotnik said, a smile on his face as he drove his hand down at the robotic Mobian's neck, completely destroying his roboticized voice box. Once more Snively watched as sparks shot forth from injured machine, and the cat gave a now silent scream. Once the sparks ceased, Robotnik leaned down again, his mouth hovering right next to the cat's face with such proximity as to make Snively feel the Robian was glad for his disabled sense of smell. "Rule one when talking to gods, dear boy, do not criticize their greatness." Again the screwdriver struck, this time in a slower, more controlled manner as Robotnik freed the voice processor from its remaining bindings. Again Snively caught the dead hunk of metal and wiring, obediently placing the item on its place on the tarp.
Once more silence reigned as Robotnik continued to strip the worker-bot of his parts, careful so as not to accidentally deactivate the hapless creature. With every desecration that was made of his body, the cat struggled harder, an impressive feat considering he was now barely a head and torso. Silently his mouth opened and closed, possibly trying to emit screams of perceived pain. And Snively watched his eyes locked on each piece as they were liberated from the whole.
Convulsions began to rack the cat's mechanical body as emergency systems came on-line, diverting power from unnecessary or overly damaged systems in a valiant but vain attempt keep their possessor conscious and operational. It was the irony of ironies that the very systems and subroutines that had been created to preserve the worker-bot's existence were now only prolonging his suffering.
"Tell me something, nod your head if you must, do you believe in souls, dear boy?" The cat did not respond, not that either Robotnik actually expected him to. Still if a second participant had ever been a necessity in any conversation the Doctor had ever participated in, it couldn't have been proven by Snively. "They say that all things possess a soul, did you know that?" The cat's body jerked as the energy core stabilizer was removed, an unfiltered blast of power surging uncomfortably through his already weakened system.
"Supposedly, it is a part of you, it is you, the sum total of all you are and ever will be." Again Robotnik reached into the throat, removing the air coolant filter as he did so. "Some describe it as a ball of energy, invisible to the naked eye, but ever present so long as the body remains alive."
"Now that is an interesting idea isn't it? The soul transcending to its final reward or punishment upon the death of its vessel, wouldn't that be something?" Again the metal hand reached into body, and with ease pulled forth the cat's now useless power relays.
"And yet, I can't help but wonder… If the vessel cannot truly die, what happens to the soul? Does it remain tied to the vessel through all eternity?" The cat's eyes widened at Robotnik's words and Snively could tell the sight of fear.
&He realized the peril he is now,& Snively realized. &Whatever beliefs this cat has, Robotnik has planted the seed of fear in his mind, and now the doctor will reap his crop.& A weight came to the small human's hands, the coolant pump, formerly the cat' lungs.
"A new question, if I may, or even if I may not," Robotnik continued. "The nature of the soul depends of the creature that possesses it. I'm told that the soul is corrupted or purified depending on the actions its vessel undertakes. The actions of the one influence the condition of the other. That being said, what becomes of this energy if its vessel transforms from one state, the organic, to another, the mechanical?" Another piece was removed. "What analog would it take, I wonder? What form would be appropriate?"
"Sir," Snively began, "it's… it's getting late." With an annoyed but tired look, Robotnik glanced at a nearby clock, confirming his nephew's observations.
"Sadly, this is true," the doctor said, looking back down at his victim. "I must thank you my friend; you have provided me with splendid entertainment tonight." For the first time that evening, Robotnik's flesh hand reached into the cat's chest cavity. "I am sincerely sorry this will be the last time we can do this." With a sharp twist, the sound of metal snapping came to Snively's ears as his uncle finally tore out the robot's energy core, a vicious, sadistic look on his face as he did so. A final shower of sparks and a convulsion of what remained of the body, Snively watched as the light in the cat's tortured eyes finally died. The worker-bot lay still from then on, apparently completely de-powered, though Snively knew better. Carefully Robotnik lifted his thermal scalpel to the cat's face slowly cutting into the faceplate. The metal plate fell to the floor, revealing under it small lights blinking softly in a discernible pattern. The reserve power in the head had kicked in the moment Robotnik had torn the core from its place, allowing the cat's higher brain functions to continue.
With a gentleness that seemed wholly uncharacteristic of his uncle, the demented humans carefully spread apart the various circuits and neural relays that made up the positronic brain of the now roboticized cat. Not a single wire snapped, not a single plastic piece broke as the doctor's fat fingers threaded their way expertly the dying machinery, sweat glistening on his brow as he searched for his target. A triumphant smile came to his mustachioed face as his hand slid around a particular circuit board, small by most standards of machinery, pulling it out gently in his hand, and causing the last remnants of life within the android to finally die. The smile on Robotnik's lips only grew wider as he stared at the circuit board, the worker-bot's CPU, that which contained the cat's mind, his memory, his very being.
"Snively, dispose of this junk; have it melted down for raw materials."
"As you command Dr. Robotnik."
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Later, now dressed in their normal attire, Snively followed Robotnik through the command tower.
"You never did answer my question, Snively," Robotnik began. "Do you believe in souls?"
"I… I don't understand the question, sir?" Snively answered guardedly. The less Robotnik knew, the better, and Snively was not all that interested in giving his uncle any sort of ammunition that could later be used against him.
"I believe I souls," Robotnik admitted, gazing at the CPU he'd pilfered from his latest victim that he held in both hands, the pieces of whom were even now being reduced to liquid form for use in manufacture. "It comforts me to believe that. To know that there is something within me, a force I nurture with every act I take, with every talent I display. A being in every way as black and evil as myself. But it does more…"
"Sir?"
"If a soul, like a body, can be transmuted, transformed into machine as easily as the body, then it can be taken, it can be possessed, just as readily as anything else."
"Maybe so sir, but I fail to see why…"
"And if it can be possessed," Robotnik said as cracks began to appear in the plastic pieces of the delicate item, "then it can be destroyed." The CPU shattered in the large human's hands, pieces flying in all directions before falling to the floor. Snively's eyes widened as he watched this cruel but symbolic act. Robotnik had spoken the truth. As a worker-bot, there was practically no condition from which the Robian could not have been returned, no injury that could not have been repaired for him. And yet, with the simple flexing of his fingers, Robotnik had ended the "immortal" cat. Bending down, the dictator reached out and selected a piece, lifting it from its place on the floor. With a few strides, the doctor arrived at a large display case, in which hundreds of such pieces were proudly and vainly displayed. "Someday soon hedgehog, you and I will get to play this game too, and then, who knows, maybe I'll place a piece of your dead soul in my trophy case."
As Robotnik spoke, Snively, who stood behind him, quivered in barely suppressed terror. Angry, Robotnik was fierce but survivable, but when he was bored, when he was inquisitive, nothing survived…
The end.