"Come on, Sally baby, I'm telling the truth!" Sonic pleaded. A few hours had passed, and (with a little cleverness and a lot of stray piping), Sonic had once again made it out of Robotropolis in one piece
To Princess Sally, however, the jury was still out on if his brain was intact, given the story he was trying to spin. She crossed her arms. "You might be telling the truth, but you don't know if the robot was!"
The hedgehog smirked at her. "Hey, that whole situation could have gone a lot worse if he wasn't at least a little on the level."
A flip of auburn hair dashed through Sonic's line of vision as Sally responded with a derisive snort. "Let me review the actual chain of events here; Robot captures you, robot tries to convince you that he's one of us, or at least an 'Enemy of my Enemy', and Robot lets you go when he realizes he can't hide you any longer."
"Exactly!" Sonic pointed out. "He let me go! Why would he do that if he was working for Robotnik?"
"Hey, it'd just as soon be in Robotnik's plan for this guy to try to earn our trust . . . and on top of that, Sonic, even assuming that this robot really IS some 'Delegate of Solana' or whatever the hell he told you, we have no way to prove it!"
Sonic stopped for a moment, before snapping his fingers. "That little bot. He told me that Robotnik's never touched that robot. If he's really an alien, then the technology inside of that thing has to be off the scale."
"This is the same robot you said offered you tea." Sally rolled her eyes. "And why would a robot be wearing the kind of scarf you described unless he was trying to look more . . . personable?"
"Sonic, sugar, I think you just got a bad adaptation of that book with the whole 'Sons of Adam, Daughters of Eve' tripe than anything else." Bunnie Rabbot poked in, placing a hand on Sonic's shoulder. "Even if he's telling the truth, there's no reason we should even care about this beau. You already said he wasn't about to bring his buddies down here yet, and he said it himself that he doesn't want to expose Robotnik to a whole new galaxy of options! Aside from the difference between 'I'll check back in ten years' versus two hundred, what difference does it make?"
"For starters, Robotnik's already done enough damage to this guy that the least we can do is show him Mobius isn't all bad — with a little more effort, I bet we can convince him to help us. Maybe even get him to open up 'contact' with just Knothole. " Sonic spoke up. "Wouldn't you like a nice Galactic military on our side?"
"NO!" Sally growled. "Until I see some damned proof that this robot actually has free will rather than you just telling us that he said he did, I don't want to hear any more about this guy!"
Sonic blinked. "Sally, you may want to check your medications . . ."
"No, damn it! If we don't get some form of proof that he and his 'little bot buddy' are in any way, shape, or form free from Robotnik's influences, the rest of this conversation is moot!" Sally glared at Sonic. "In order to actually get any benefits from his help or even verify that he actually is who he is, we'd more than likely have to bring him to Knothole, and there is NO way I'm letting you bring a robot here!"
Bunnie blinked. "Come on, Sally girl; He may not be all there, but I think at least a little of this guy ain't connected to Robotnik; he didn't even realize who Sonic was at first! Robotnik would just as soon keelhaul a robot for letting big-blue-and-handsome slip through his fingers!"
Meanwhile, about 30 miles away . . .
'Keelhauling' made a good synonym for the level of pain Ratchet would have been in if he still had an organic body.
Ratchet found himself thrown against a wall, his circuitry momentarily jolted out of alignment. He found himself looking up into a large, egg-shaped shadow, with glowing red eyes looking down at him. For a moment, Robotnik's shadow made Ratchet think of a fiery hell-spawned wyrm that would have risen out of the lava lakes of Gaspar, but of course Ratchet wouldn't even think of saying so now.
"Inexcusable!" Robotnik growled. "I know your mind isn't nearly as 'sophisticated' as the robots I work with, but to harbor a fugitive, let alone that blasted hedgehog, shouldn't have even crossed your mind!"
"Sir, if I may-?" Clank interrupted, a hand raised up to try and get Robotnik's attention.
"Stay out of this, little one." Snively shot back, and even Cluck was nipping at Clank's heels.
"There is a portion of Ratchet's background that will explain his actions quite handily." Clank spoke up again, just as Robotnik had taken hold of Ratchet about the chest. The eggman paused, then turned to look at little Clank, still holding Ratchet up in his left hand.
"I hope, little alien drone, that you can find a good reason." Robotnik began to squeeze his hand in, and Ratchet gasped in reflex, sensing that Robotnik's cybernetic hand could probably crush his metal form right then and there. "For your friend's sake."
Clank's eyes fluttered as he looked up at his friend in fear. Ratchet glanced down, eyes wide. "Please . . ."
True to form, though, Clank didn't miss a beat. "Ratchet's previous position was with a military operation spanning several months. As such, he is often in need of situations that require dealing with live prisoners and other 'civilians of interest'." Clank spoke, before adding on, "Naturally, much of Ratchet's protocols with prisoners have left him with a large skill set in interrogative and coercive tasks."
"Does he, now?" Robotnik glanced over at the body in his hand, still unconvinced.
"Ratchet is one of the top operatives in his field." Clank spoke up, hoping that he could still convince Robotnik that he was telling the truth just by sprinkling the real truth on now and then. "And, if I an any judge of Ratchet's behavior with his targets, I'd say he's a very . . . 'inquisitive' fellow."
Robotnik smirked at this, as he moved his thumb just enough to flip open Ratchet's chest panel, glancing down at the mechanics inside. Ratchet's eyes went wide, sensing that he should probably be embarrassed by this, but the panel went back down quickly enough. "So this little . . . creature here is actually a world-class tormentor?"
Ratchet blinked, looking up at Robotnik's eyes, still glowing red. Whatever Clank was trying to set up here, he may as well run with it. "When the situation calls for it, of course. . ."
The eggman still didn't look convinced. "How does letting the Hedgehog go fit in to these abilities, then?"
Ratchet tried to pry himself out of the robotic hand as he spoke. "Obviously my skills work best when I can understand my targets; this session was more investigative than inquisitive. It's one thing to understand how to best manipulate a person from a physiological perspective, but the most effective torment comes from the psychological side . . ."
Robotnik started to smirk, interested now and focusing even more of his attention on the mecha-lombax. "Go on."
"There was a case I dealt with recently before coming here involving some . . . high-level prisoners; the types that would likely overtake the facility if they were able to use their abilities in tandem." Ratchet spoke up, hoping he could retell DreadZone well enough to satisfy this despot. He even looked a little like Gleeman, come to think of it. "They had to be confined in tight quarters and made to fight against each other, so that they'd be too busy trying to kill each other in order to gain their own freedom, rather than being able to work together to get it all at once. The more amicable contestants ended up being the ones that actually worked with their captors to eliminate the others — after a fashion, of course . . ."
"And how well did it work?"
"Terrifying. Absolutely devastating. They're cut off from the outside, unable to do more than to keep returning into deadly combat over and over . . ." Ratchet spoke, now able to stand up thanks to Robotnik's hand loosening, though Ratchet stayed crouched down as though for symbolic effect. "We had these collars around people's necks, designed to explode on a whim or for straying outside of designated areas. They never actually went off except to show people that they actually worked, mind you, but the whole concept of it — the mere violation of that intimate zone, since so many prize their necks — is why it was used." Ratchet took hold of the scarf still around his neck, pulling on it to make it tighten in around his neck as though it were a noose. "Collars have always worked well to make people even more aware of their imprisonment, and the desperation it leads them to. You'd be amazed what people do with them on — what sorts of depths you can drive them to . . ."
Robotnik smirked. "Interesting . . . Most interesting . . ." He lowered his hand to let Ratchet alight to the floor. "Let me see if I understand this . . . your situation with the Hedgehog was more of an investigative effort to find out how best to harm him later?"
Ratchet saw Clank give a small nod, and then Ratchet nodded in turn, catching on. "It works best to find out what he prizes, what he fears, what he thinks he can't live without . . . obviously, these things are best gleaned from a subject willing to cooperate, if only at first, especially in a foreign land like this one. And of course, let's be honest here; you haven't hidden how much you hate that hedgehog."
"Are you kidding? That's probably the most common scream out of the top of his lungs." Snively chirped in.
Robotnik chuckled. "Indeed . . . so naturally, you figured that a more in-depth analysis of the Hedgehog's true nature was in order, so that when the time came you'd be able to manipulate him all the better."
"Exactly." Ratchet remarked, even has he swore that his heart should be practically vibrating from the pounding it would be doing in his chest.
Robotnik still looked angry, naturally, but the small smile on his face seemed to indicate that Ratchet and Clank had succeeded in mitigating his fury by appealing to a baser instinct — it was pretty obvious that Robotnik had, at minimum, a predilection for pain and control. This little alien in front of him certainly knew what he was talking about, and it explained why he was so indifferent to Robotnik's treatment up until he was separated from his 'associate' drone. And the ideas he'd mentioned sounded interesting . . . most interesting, in fact.
Fat lips gave away to a grin of unmistakable nature. Perhaps having this little roboticized creature keep his mind wasn't as grave a mistake as he first thought — in fact, from the sounds of things, letting him have control of his own creativity and unique expertise would be most effective. The little creature probably understood and inflicted whole new worlds of pain and suffering that Robotnik had never even considered.
Robotnik himself had always, of course, focused more on control; it was the main feature of the roboticizer in his mind, after all. Only Snively seemed to have the patience for actual torment, but he was small, he was weak, and he was sadistic; more often than not he behaved like a child who ripped the wings off flies just because he could. But an actual expert — someone who understood the psyche enough to play it like a harpsichord, and had also conditioned himself enough to let few things like 'emotions' get in his way — that was what Robotnik could use. That was what Robotnik needed.
Whole new possibilities opened up with the help of a skilled interrogator. He could gain untold information, he could find the location of Knothole . . . but why stop at mere inquisition? It had been one thing to threaten the Hedgehog and his friends with roboticization, but to be able to wage a war of fear and terror . . . this little robot was an alien form, a dark figure to them, and with the right 'supporting actor' for him to toy with, Robotnik would be able to spread word of his newfound brutality all over Mobius. Sure, he had a grip on the planet as it was, but perhaps with the right motivation . . . he would be able to suppress all of the rebels for good.
He smiled down at the two robots. "In that case, creature . . . excellent work."
"Thank you, Doctor." Ratchet remarked, giving Ivo a nod of compliance.
"But of course, I can't encourage you to let the hedgehog go so easily next time . . . there are standards that must be kept, little one. There are examples to set. And most importantly . . . there are rules you have to learn . . ." Robotnik reached out quickly to grab hold of Ratchet, with his tail whipping wildly, as he continued on. "Quite frankly, little creature . . . we have to figure out just how you plan to make this work . . ."
Ratchet squirmed again, back in the Doctor's grip. "What happens now?"
"Now, we leave your little friend behind to keep up with your work, while the two of us have a 'friendly' chat . . ." Robotnik chuckled. "I believe we have matters of great importance to discuss."
Ratchet was dropped back down on the floor, where the doctor prodded him to keep walking ahead, while Snively and Cluck left Clank behind on the factory floor. Ratchet looked back at him, suddenly becoming more nervous, but Robotnik pushed him along.
"Wait!" Ratchet spoke up, moving away from Robotnik's hands. "I need to speak with Clank."
Robotnik frowned, but let Ratchet run back for the robot. "Be quick about it."
Ratchet picked Clank up, standing him up over in a nearby corner between two of the smelting vats. Ratchet's eyes were now wild, furious. "Do you have any idea what you just did?!"
"You're welcome." Clank remarked, crossing his arms.
"Welcome? Welcome!" Ratchet spat out in a whisper. "You just made me talk this guy into being his top torturer!"
"And in the process saved you from almost certain death." Clank told him. "You let the Hedgehog go by your own decision, Ratchet. Surely you had to understand that Robotnik would-"
"I'm getting sick of that name!" Ratchet cut him off.
"Regardless, you caused a greivous slight, and it required drastic measures in order to dissuade his anger." Clank spoke up. "It was the first solution that came to mind which would not involve your dismantling."
Ratchet glared down at Clank, and the only thing keeping him from throttling Clank right then and there was the tepid lapping of his processing cycles as they once again quickly came to the conclusion that Clank was, once again, arriving to a valid conclusion. Something about that bothered him — ordinarily he agreed with Clank, actually thought the little robot was right, but ever since the malfunction, he just kept coming up with 'acceptable' answers. Was this just a side effect of becoming a robot, where sheer rationality made it difficult to quantify that an answer was 'best', or was there something else going on here?
Snively poked around the corner, sticking his nose into the conversation. "Are you two done yet?"
Ratchet turned around, still hunched over in anger, but with his head down. " . . . I guess so."
"We need to get going, then. I'm sure that Robotnik wants to find out more about your newly mentioned . . . abilities . . ." Snively remarked, taking Ratchet by the arm.
Ratchet grumbled to himself as he was prodded on. Sure, maybe it was just Robotnik's influence, but he was really starting to hate this planet . . .
