After a bit more whirring and beeping, the robot seemed to realize it wasn't being understood by its two new flesh-and-blood friends, so it stood for a bit more to think. When it resumed activity once more to communicate through gestures, Paint and Arrowhead lost their apprehension and tried to understand the creature.

It pointed its lumbering, bulky arm at its own head. I something, or something me. It then plodded over to a tree, gently plucked a few leaves off, and held them in front of its face for Paint and Arrowhead to see. This was a more mysterious signal, one less commonly seen in necessitated charades.

"It looks like it's trying to represent someone," Paint wondered aloud. She waited for a response from the robot and didn't get one; perhaps it didn't understand their language very well.

"Is that a... mustache?" Arrowhead asked her. "Is it... Hey, is that Dr. Eggman? Does he have one?" He turned to the robot. "Dr. Eggman! He created you, right?"

The robot excitedly whistled and nodded, recognizing the name as belonging to its creator. "So this is about something between Eggman and you?" Paint tried. It whirred once, non-indicatively, before continuing with its speech - or plea.

It pointed to its head again. I or me again - or maybe something about its head. Paint considered these options and, because the robot was expectantly waiting to continue, nodded in approval.

This gesture was more sinister. The robot set its arms straight out in front of its torso and slowly moved them apart while ejecting abstract white noise from its voice box that quieted down as its arms got more distance between them.

Paint got the idea, but because of the robot's apparently limited vocabulary, she tried a few words. "An explosion? Explode? Blow up? Destroy?"

It whirred a few times in approval again, but with less enthusiasm. This was fear, Paint realized - made more apparent by the fact that the robot cowered as if to hide from something, even though its routine seemed to be over.

"Your head's going to destroy..." Paint wondered aloud. "No..." Then it hit her. "Eggman wants to blow you up?"

"With your head?" Arrowhead chipped in.

The robot gave its approval once more, even more fearful than before.

"He must've set a self-destruct charge in its head. Maybe it didn't go off for some reason, and the robot's afraid it will." Paint suggested quietly to Arrowhead.

"Yeah, but what are we gonna do about it?" Arrowhead retorted. "There's no way we could fix it, even if we wanted to."

"I do want to," replied Paint with a strangely forceful determination. "And there has to be a way. Look" - she pointed out - "there are screws on its head! We can open it up and take the explosives out."

Arrowhead wasn't happy. "At what cost? How do you know they won't go off while we're taking them out? How do you know we won't get blasted to pieces?"

Paint didn't relent. "Well, look at how lost and dirty this thing looks. It's probably really far away from Eggman, which tells me that the explosives aren't going off because Eggman's signals can't get to it."

"But how does it know Eggman wants to blow it up?"

"He probably tells all his robots that, like if they misbehave or rebel. This little one knows it's been bad by wandering off," she guessed.

The robot whirred a few times half-heartedly. Maybe it'd understood some of that.

She steeled, truly enraged now at the invisible doctor. "What kind of thing is that to tell your children?! Having them live their whole lives under the threat of being blasted to pieces for who knows what! They mess up sometimes; even robots do, I'm sure. But if you know they're able to get scared, why would you be so unforgiving?!"

Arrowhead was silent.

Paint picked up a stick and a stone - a dry one from the bank, not from the stream - and furiously chiseled it into something that could invade the robot's head.

"Paint, I'm really not sure about this," Arrowhead implored. "I still think it's too dangerous."

She made clear that she wasn't budging. "Maybe. But I'm not gonna let this little one keep on fretting, only to finally explode for real once Eggman gets in range. I know 'it's just a robot', but darn it, it's scared to death, however that works, and what kind of life is that? Maybe its dad abandoned it, but that doesn't mean I will!" She was weeping a little.

The toad couldn't say anything, and Paint composed herself.

"Arrow," she requested calmly, "I don't think it will, but just in case something does go wrong, I want you to run away right now. A few hundred feet, maybe - that should be enough distance. If nothing happens and I get rid of the explosives, I'll call back to you and we can figure out what to do with our new friend next. But just in case: I owe you everything, Arrow. I have my share of difficulties, but I'm always happy when I remember I have you for a friend, even though you don't need to stick by me. I love you."

"I... I..."

"Now, go," she instructed.

She wasn't going to change her mind. He turned away in response and ran away. There was nothing else to do. He felt nothing but numb fear as he hoped she was right about the explosives. He kept running, tripping occasionally but keeping on. He crossed the plants she had pointed out as he hopped partway back up the hill. Finding a spot he could safely survey everything from, he sat down at it. This was it.

Down by the creek, Paint spoke to the robot. "Can you go to sleep? I'll tell you when to wake up!" She smiled at it. This wouldn't hurt a bit.

It understood, and in the span of about twenty seconds, it sat down and set all of its body processes on standby. It could awaken whenever she told it to, but for the time being, it would be safe to operate on.

Paint took a few steps down to the creek again, sipped some water so she could concentrate, and took those few steps back behind the robot. There was no use in waiting; Arrowhead was safe in the event of an error and the surgical tool was ready.

With the makeshift screwdriver, Paint opened up the hatch on the back of the robot's head. Sure enough, there was an explosive-looking canister inside, with an ugly Eggman logo to confirm its origin. It wouldn't be difficult to remove. Paint stuck her hand inside the hatch, grabbed the canister, and yanked it out.