Forward: This is a thing that exists. I'm pretty sure no one should ever want to read a crossover between a video game series about a supersonic hedgehog and a period drama. I wrote one anyway. Let's face it, there's no way to make a credible, dramatic crossover between these two universes; there can only be hilarity and foolishness. So try not to go mad from all the crack. Oh and this takes place after Lavinia dies, just so you don't wonder why Matthew is somehow alive and not a zombie or something. Though that might make for another interesting crack fic idea…

Chapter I: Mystery

"You say you found it just lying about in the woods?"

"Yes, Mary darling," said Matthew, his arm about Mary's slender waist. "I could barely believe that it was real myself, but the examiner came in and told me it was a genuine emerald."

"I've never seen a blue emerald before," said Edith, rolling her eyes at the oversized gem. "I think it's some kind of fake."

"Matthew said he had it examined and it's genuine," snapped Mary, not even giving her sister a sideways glance. "Edith, don't you have some moping to do? Somewhere else?"

Edith shot a long angry glare at her dark-haired sibling before rising from her armchair to leave, slamming the door behind her. The mysterious emerald teetered on its cushion, but Matthew put his hands over it to make sure it did not fall.

"Do you know how much this may be worth?" asked Matthew.

"I would hope a lot," said Mary. "Do you think… it would be worth enough to allow us to keep Downton? So you won't have to accept Mr. Swire's money?"

Matthew smiled and nodded. "Yes. I think it can. The examiner said it was the most unusual gem he had ever seen. That there may be no other like it on this earth…"

…Two days later…

"And who was it that's coming to dinner again?" asked Daisy as she got started on that morning's breakfast.

"Y'never listen properly, do you?" said Mrs. Patmore, tying on her apron and then smoothing it. "It's some wealthy American fellow with an odd name, an inventor or something. He's interested in that queer emerald Mr. Crawley found the other day."

"I suppose they're wantin' to sell it for a high price, to save Downton."

"I suppose. Now shut it and make breakfast! And no usin' that new-fangled electric monstrosity to beat the eggs!"

…

"An American?" asked Edith.

"Yes," said Robert. "A Mr. Ivo Robotnik."

Matthew and Edith shared strange glances as they pecked at their breakfast. Robert kept his eyes on a newspaper the whole time.

"Ivo Robotnik?" repeated Matthew incredulously. "He sounds more Russian than American to me. Have you ever heard of him before?"

"Not at all," said Robert. He looked up at his butler. "Have you heard of him, Carson?"

"No, m'lord," said Carson as he poured Matthew some more tea. "Then again, I'm not entirely informed of what goes on across the Atlantic. If I were, I believe I'd go mad."

"It always seems to be American money which keeps Downton up and running," sighed Edith before taking another bite of toast.

"Yes," said Robert. "I do wish your grandmother had been able to lend us some help, as much as I would be uncomfortable in her debt."

The rest of breakfast was spent in silence.

…That afternoon…

The whole family and most of the servants assembled in front of the house as Mr. Robotnik's car drove through the gates.

From the first close-up look at the bright red and orange vehicle, it became plain that their potential savior would be an even more potent example of American obnoxiousness than even Cora's mother.

The car came to a stop and the chauffer stepped out of the vehicle. Well, more like floated, for the chauffer was a small, metallic creature with a spherical head and ghastly neon eyes. Everyone was struck speechless by the sight of it.

But the strange chauffer contraption was nothing compared to the man who stepped out of the car. Mr. Robotnik was the largest man the Downton inhabitants had ever seen, as he was both enormously fat and over six feet tall, with long skinny legs that supported his giant body with miraculous dexterity . He had a bald head underneath a silk top hat and a large orange-red mustache curled slightly at the end. His jacket and waist coat were bright red and decorated with shiny gold buttons.

Thomas started to laugh obnoxiously, but Mrs. Hughes put an end to that with an elbow to the solar plexus. As the young man muttered something about coming vengeance to the entire household, Robert's jaw dropped. Quite unable to move from where he stood to greet his guest, Cora stepped forward with the best smile she could muster.

"Welcome to our home, Mr. Robotnik," she said, taking his large gloved hand in hers.

"I'm pleased to be here, Lady Grantham," he replied. His voice was bombastic, almost comically so. Several of the servants had to hide their amusement or shock to the best of their ability. Carson in particular tried hiding his discomfort at the metallic chauffer.

"What the devil is that thing driving your car?" blurted Tom, arms behind his back.

Robert opened his mouth to protest Tom's rudeness, but Robotnik chuckled proudly, as though he had been waiting for someone to ask.

"That, my friend, is an artificial life form, a robot. I made it myself. It's much cheaper than hiring fallible people, wouldn't you say?"

The servants all exchanged odd looks. Carson looked downright agitated, but kept his composure in spite of what he perceived as a slight.

"But that puts people out of work, doesn't it?" asked Cora.

"Well, they haven't fully replaced my human servants yet," he quickly replied. "Not all the kinks have been ironed out yet. Right, Orbot?"

"If you say so, m'lord," said the robot chauffer with a mocking bow.

"Oh my God, it talks too?" exclaimed Robert, bristling with his usual rage at anything new-fangled. "Most unseemly!"

"It does a lot of things," said Robotnik. "Anyway, I believe I need to change before dinner. My, er, valet has my evening attire."

"Of course," said Cora. "Thomas, could you show Mr. Robotnik and his valet to a room where he can change?"

"Absolutely, m'lady," said Thomas, trying to suppress a mocking grin that even another rough ribbing from Mrs. Hughes could not eliminate altogether.

…That evening…

Cubot had managed to keep most of the servants distracted with his obnoxious voice and many functions while Orbot slipped away. The doctor had given him a handheld sensor so he could sniff the emerald out while Robotnik was dining with those Edwardian snobs. After all, while Robotnik certainly had the money to pay these people (how do you think he got all those Egg Fleets built, after all?), it would be much more efficient to resort to thievery.

He made his way past many a portrait and through many a corridor… or at least, that was how it felt to Orbot. Eventually, he found his way to the dark sitting room and there, on the coffee table, lay the shining blue emerald upon a velvet cushion. Its light reflected off of Orbot's metallic body as he drew closer to the gem, his arms outstretched—

And then the lights switched on.

Orbot spun around to find himself looking up at a tall, dark-haired valet or footman or whatever title this guy had. It was Thomas and he had what could only be described as a shit-eating grin plastered across his pale face.

"Doing some exploring, I see," said Thomas, closing the door behind him with his foot.

"Er, yes," replied Orbot. "Just a nice, cozy, innocent tour." Oh dear Chaos, how did I not notice the little bugger following after me? I feel like Cubot…

Thomas obviously bought none of it, taking a few steps forward.

"Let me guess: your boss told his freak robot valet to keep my fellow servants busy while you steal this emerald. Then, when he and the family came down to take a look at it and make the proper negotiations, they'd believe it had been stolen and then you three would just go on your merry way, acting all disappointed."

"… Not at all."

Thomas smirked, obviously unconvinced by the robot's elaborate lie. "If you want to keep you and your master out of prison, then I think we should make a deal-."

Just then, there was a great sound, like an explosion or a wall crumbling, beneath them. Both Thomas and Orbot tried to retain their balance.

"What the bloody hell-?!" cried Thomas.

Orbot's neon eyes grew small. "It's him."

"What the hell are you talking about? Who?"

"The hedgehog."

"… Are you messing with me? Because I can make your pathetic little existence quite miserable if I wanted to-."

With a swift movement, Cubot knocked the young servant off of his feet. He had no time for such drama and needed to nab the emerald as quickly as possible. He turned back to the cushion—

Only to find an empty imprint where the jewel had been.

Turning again, he caught a glimpse of a female figure in a blue gown rushing from the room, something shining crushed against its chest.