Eggman stared at his most treasured creation and tried to process the feeling of hate that bubbled up in his body.
He remembered back to when he had first built Metal Sonic, of how proud he was. It was the perfect robot minion, able to perform any task he needed it to while simultaneously making a mockery of the thing he hated the most: Sonic the Hedgehog.
Over the years, however, his feelings towards Metal had begun to shift, and Eggman was not quite sure why. He first thought it was because Sonic consistently outran and destroyed the robot double, but Eggman was not usually one to be bothered by such things. After all, it gave him ideas on how to improve the design for the next battle. No, it was something else. Something more… complex. The problem, however, was that Eggman could not put his finger on what this feeling was.
The truth was, Eggman had been having trouble identifying any of his feelings lately. His thoughts were constantly consumed by images of Sonic. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw that infuriating smirk and that nauseating shade of blue. Even when he slept, he could not escape it. His nightmares were filled with Sonic trashing his creations and ruining his plans, and his "good" dreams were of Sonic and all his damnable friends being torn apart in various ways. Eggman smiled at the thought, one which quickly faded as his eyes flickered back to Metal Sonic's frame.
He had gotten so close, with so many different plans. Every time, however, Sonic would escape and thwart his plans. Either through that accursed "super" form of his, or one of Sonic's idiot friends coming just in the nick of time. Eggman could not stand it. He was tired of the constant battles, of the endless barrage of egg puns and fat jokes. He was tired of spending months of his time planning and building only to have it all torn down in front of him in mere hours, at the most.
He hated that hedgehog. Eggman wanted nothing more than to roboticize every one of Sonic's friends and family members, and then burn his world to the ground. Eggman closed his eyes and tried to imagine the look on Sonic's face when he finally realizes that he lost. The jokes would finally stop, and they would be replaced by panicked begging and pathetic crying. The fantasy brought Eggman a moment of understanding, and he turned his attention back to Metal Sonic.
"Ah," Eggman said aloud, "Now I get it."
The sound of his voice caused Metal Sonic to turn. Metal stared up at Eggman, anticipating an order.
Eggman stared back at his creation, as his feelings began to fall into place.
"Metal," Eggman began, "I'm afraid I can no longer use you in your current state. I want you to fly as high as you can and then initiate your self-destruct protocols."
Metal Sonic remained silent, not that he had any choice. The models lacking voice boxes were usually more obedient, Eggman had found. Metal nodded and flew out the window of the base and up into the sky. Eggman watched as his creation went at least a mile in the air before detonating in an impressive explosion.
No more hedgehogs for him, metal or otherwise. He simply couldn't bear to look at them anymore. A shame that Metal had to go, but it's not like the robot double ever had much success in the first place, Eggman mused. If he had kept Metal around for much longer, he might have gone truly mad. It probably wasn't very healthy to keep a copy of the hedgehog that's unraveling your mind around at all times.
"I'll create something better," Eggman said to no one in particular, "Something more than just a copy. Something that's not a hedgehog."
Eggman grabbed his tool belt, his mind already full of ideas, and headed to his workshop.