~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ S ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
His inbox is empty.
Robotnik tilts his head this way and that, but no matter how he looks at it, it does not change the outcome. Yawning emptiness. No single email to be found, not even in the junk folder. And it is not even his own doing; he has not touched the damned thing for days now.
Sniffing in disdain, Robotnik swipes over to the next screen - his personal calendar. This one is stuffed full as always, but now, it is actually organized neatly. No double bookings. Spare time in between deadlines and meetings. There is even a color scheme, and it makes sense. How utterly, perfectly disgusting.
There is nothing for him to do here, Robotnik can admit that much. If anything, he has more time on his hands than he ever had before. For days now, he has not had to deal with a single email, phone call, or personal visit from anyone. Agent Stone covers all of it for him, which leaves him more than enough time to work on the things he is actually interested in, and that undisturbed.
He should be happy, he supposes. Any normal, average person would certainly feel that way. Robotnik? Just feels blindsided by all of it, and it irks him.
Grumbling lowly to himself, the doctor twirls his moustache, mind racing while he keeps staring at his colorful new planner. This whole assistant-thing is getting out of hand. Agent Stone was supposed to leave, not actually start to make himself useful around here, and that despite the hostile work environment Robotnik had made sure to create for him. No matter what kind of insults he throws at the agent, no matter if he rigs the door with a light electro shock (oh, relax, it was just a little zap!), no matter how insufferably himself Robotnik is, Agent Stone stays, and is useful, and seems generally happy to help.
All in all, absolutely unacceptable. How is Robotnik supposed to get rid of him when the agent just refuses to trip up or be cowed? If this keeps going, he will be stuck with him!
Frustrated with his lack of progress in the assistant-department as he is, Robotnik is almost glad when he hears the Badniks in the hallway beep a little greeting. Speak of the devil – his barnacle has arrived.
He is not going to let Stone see that he had taken notice of his work here. A flap of his hand, and calendar and emails vanish from the screens. Instead, a 3D-model of the tank-Badnik takes up the now empty space. He makes a pulling motion with both hands, and the model lifts up from the screen to hover freely as a hologram. Another pull, and the hologram splits up into several more, which show the tank from all sides, inside and out. They turn slowly around themselves while Robotnik pushes and pulls them around the room to arrange them to his liking.
By the time he hears a beeping Badnik come into the lab, heralding Stone's arrival, Robotnik is bent over a model of the machine's power unit, debating whether or not it could be further improved in the little time he has.
"Good morni-...oh. Wow."
The soft exclamation has Robotnik look up, mocking question forming on his lips if Stone maybe has forgotten how to speak properly.
The question fizzles into nothing once gaze finds Stone. There is that look again. He has seen it on Stone's face before, on his very first day here. Fascination. Back then, he had thought it a fluke - the agent had been looking at threateningly positioned Badniks at the time, and nobody looks at his babies with any positive emotions. But here it is again, and this time, there is no denying it.
Stone is turning slowly around himself with a look of boyish wonder on his face, eyes glittering while his gaze jumps from one 3D-model to the next, drinking it all in greedily. As Robotnik watches, the agent carefully lifts a hand and lets his fingertips glide through one of the models hovering right next to him – and laughs, a startled, happy thing, when the model splits apart into smaller ones, showing off the separate parts of the greater whole.
"Wow," Stone repeats, sounding a little breathless, still grinning from ear to ear. "Sir, this is… this is magnificent."
"… Well." Sarcasm, trusty biting sarcasm, seems to fail him entirely. Robotnik feels at a loss how to deal with this reaction. He is not even sure what kind of reaction it really , he knows recognition of his work in many forms; he is well-acquainted with the looks of envy, of grudging respect, of apprehension, fear or outright terror. This, whatever this is, is new. He narrows his eyes at the beaming man in front of him, suddenly a little unsure if he is being mocked in the weirdest way possible. "Of course it is, Agent. Did you expect anything less from me?"
"No, of course not," Stone answers without missing a beat, although a little distracted, while he is leaning in closer to squint at one of the smaller models he had just split off by accident. "I know how brilliant your work is, sir. It's just a whole different thing seeing it up close. Kind of overwhelming, really."
A quiet alarm goes off somewhere in the recesses of Robotnik's mind, and he finds his footing again, drawing himself up straighter while he zeroes in on a specific part of that statement. "You know my work, do you?"
"Oh." That, finally, draws Stone's attention. He even looks a little sheepish, when he looks up from the models, not quite meeting Robotnik's eyes. "Oh, not all of it, sir, of course not. A lot of what you do is classified. But, uh… I always had a bit of an interest in engineering, so I… might have read up on your official work even before being assigned to you?"
"Did you, now." The suspicion only grows. He had always had a feeling that the assistants were partly assigned to him to spy on him and his work. Feeling his hackles rise, Robotnik carefully circles the flustered man, looking for any and all signs of weaknesses while he pokes again, "Riveting read, was it?"
"Very," Stone agrees, sounding more confident again. "The parts of it that I understood, I mean. I'm no engineer, sir; I couldn't follow all the technical aspects of it, as much as I wanted to."
The agent seems sincere – a little self-deprecating, a little amused. Either Stone is a fantastic actor, or he is saying the truth. Which one is it?
"So," Robotnik drawls, not fully appeased yet. "You wouldn't really be able to make use of, say, something like this?"
With a snap of his fingers, the models floating around them burst apart into their smallest components, arranging themselves in a new order. In a matter of seconds, dozens upon dozens of bite-sized holograms are circling slowly around them, the pieces ranging from the smallest bolt to an entire wheel.
It is a gamble, Robotnik knows. He is exposing his entire work to the gaze of a virtual stranger here. If Stone really is a spy with engineering skills sent to take a look at his works, then this could backfire badly on him.
But if it does, then he is damn ready to fire back. Literally.
He does not take his eyes off the agent for a single second, hoping to see the slightest bit of a slipup should it happen. He watches as Stone's face circles through a myriad of tiny micro-expressions in record time, and he catalogues each of them – surprise, wonder, fascination, confusion and then… dread. And the longer Robotnik simply waits, the more pronounced the last one becomes, until Stone clears his throat uncomfortably and chances a glance at him. "Um. I really hope you don't expect me to put that together again now, sir."
The utter lack of understanding he is showing seems genuine, as far as Robotnik can tell. The doctor's shoulders relax the tiniest bit. "Of course not, agent. That would be so far out of your league, the distance between here and the moon would seem like a joke compared to it."
Stone mutters something under his breath that sounds suspiciously like a heartfelt thank god.
It is nearly enough to make Robotnik snort. To distract himself from the strange notion, he turns away from Stone and begins reassembling the model at high speed, the motions so familiar he could do them in his sleep. In a matter of seconds, he has the completed model back in his hands, turning it slowly around its axis with his fingertips.
"Amazing." Stone's voice is barely more than a whisper, but the wonder on his face when he steps up next to the doctor to take a closer look is as loud as if he had screamed it from the rooftops. "Is it finished?"
"As finished as it has to be," Robotnik frowns while he remembers the bits and pieces of the invention he is still not entirely satisfied with. Zooming in with two fingers, he taps certain parts of the model, making them glow yellow. "There are still endless possibilities for this beauty, but dear ol' Uncle Sam wants results yesterday, so no time for me to play around."
"Yes, they asked for a presentation as soon as possible." Seemingly involuntary, Stone reaches out to the model, barely stopping himself and drawing back before he can. "Since you say as it has to be, does that mean I can confirm a date with them?"
"Hmmm. Do it. But not too soon; can't have them thinking I'm in a hurry to give them what they want."
"Would Thursday work for you, sir?"
Six days from now. Robotnik doesn't even know what else is penciled into his (new, tidy) calendar for that day, but he doesn't particularly care, anyway. Six days would give him enough time to prepare the presentation and maybe even tinker around a bit more on the tank before he truly has to finalize it. He wonders briefly if Stone had decided on the date because he had lamented the lack of time, but immediately pushes the thought away again. What does it matter?
He waves impatiently at Stone. "Make it work, if necessary. I thought that's your job around here, agent."
"Of course, sir." Once more, Stone seems inexplicably happy to be ordered around, smile crinkling his eyes while he straightens. He turns to leave, but stops with a last long look at the hologram in Robotnik's cupped hands. "It really is magnificent, sir."
Because of the way he is looking both at the doctor and his inventions when he says it, it is not entirely clear if the praise is meant for the man or the machine. It makes Robotnik feel weird, jittery and uncomfortably aware of himself all of a sudden, and he immediately decides he hates it. He drawls with all the startled malice he can muster, "Why thank you… for nothing. Now, shoo. Make yourself at least a little useful."
And Stone? Only smiles wider, the cracked little barnacle. "Right away, sir."
He goes, and in his wake, he leaves behind a wrong-footed genius scientists staring blindly down at his creation while his oh-so-brilliant mind can only manage a loop of magnificent, magnificent, magnificent.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ S ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
His foot taps rapidly on the ground. His moustache twitches. Focus is impossible to come by, and not even the (delicious, though not his favorite) cup of coffee he is sipping from helps.
Robotnik twitches for the upteenth time, trying and failing to get rid of the jittery feeling under his skin. Code and numbers in front of his eyes refuse to make sense to his distracted brain, everything in him too preoccupied with the buzz in his limbs. He needs to get up, he needs to move. Dance breaks help in such cases - would help, if he hadn't gone without for days now.
This is all Stone's fault, the doctor decides when his left leg starts bouncing yet again. The agent had been supposed to leave on the second or third day, not stay for... has it been ten days, now? The thought actually manages to freeze all twitching for a moment while Robotnik counts back quickly. Minimum ten days. Huh. Stone is well on his way to breaking the record of the assistant who stayed the longest.
The thought triggers another violent twitch, nearly lifting him off his chair, and he snaps.
"Out," he commands while surging to his feet, waving over his shoulder.
Somewhere behind him, the quiet tapping of keys stops abruptly. "Sir?"
"Get out."
"Is everything al-..."
Does he have to question everything? Whipping around, slamming a fist down on the workbench for good measure, Robotnik thunders, "Get. OUT."
Even in the face of his fury, Stone does not particularly hurry to get up. His gaze never leaving his boss, he closes the correspondence he had been in the middle of answering and stands up slowly, raising his hands in a placating gesture while he backs away towards the door. "I will go get you a coffee. Call me if you need anything, sir."
Robotnik does not even do the agent the favor until the door closes behind him before he starts parroting him in the most mocking tone he can manage, "Call me if you need anything, blah-blah-BLAH! As if!"
But at least he is finally, finally alone now. Relief is so very close now, he can basically taste it already. There is no taming the excited grin on his face while he fishes the headphones designed for this exact purpose from under the workbench and puts them on slowly, almost reverently. The noise-cancelling quality of them leaves him briefly in a silent little bubble; his own little world. Instantly his muscles relax by a margin, racing mind slowing to a manageable level. Ah, yes. He has needed this. With a snap of his gloves, he pulls up his music. Playlists flit by under his searching fingertips, songs appearing and disappearing until he finds the right one for this occasion.
Blue and red lights start pulsing around him at the swipe of a hand. At the same time, the first notes of Dancing With Myself begin booming from the speakers strategically placed all around the lab, loud enough to shake the room. The headphones regulate the noise down to a manageable level while also making sure the music is the only thing he can hear.
The pulse of the music revibrating through his entire body instantly calms the violent buzz that had plagued Robotnik the entire morning. When he begins moving to the rhythm, throwing himself into every jump and spin with his entire body, all the accumulated stress of the last days falls off him like a physical weight. Finally, his body has a way to be catch up with his ever-moving, ever-racing mind, an outlet for all the energy constantly running through him.
He dances away the time with one entire playlist, crossing the room again and again and again. Everything in the lab becomes part of the dance floor – he even kicks his chair across the room and laughs loudly when it crashes against the wall, before throwing himself bodily onto the upcoming refrain.
When the last song of the playlist tapers off into silence, the doctor stops himself with one hand against the nearest shelf, chest heaving and grinning wildly. He is drenched in sweat, hair and clothes in disarray; he must look a fright, but he feels wonderful. Alive. His always-loud mind is back on track, presenting solutions and spitting out new ideas at incredible speed, but all in the order he wants them to, not the loud mess of different, contradicting concepts flashing through his mind all morning. Now it is an organized chaos, just the way he likes it.
He had put this off for too long, he decides while running both hands through his hair to tame it a little. And all that only because he had been convinced his new barnacle would leave well before another dance session is in order.
Speaking of barnacles - where is Stone, anyway? It has been far longer than brewing a coffee could possibly take.
"Slacking off, are we?" Briefly, Robotnik considers simply sending his Badniks after the agent and have them drag him back. Now that would be a fun sight! But then again, why not simply go take a look what the limpet is up to while he believes himself unsupervised? Maybe catch him red-handed with something?
Still in high spirits after the break, Robotnik ducks out of the lab. Where could his lab rat have gone? Outside? The kitchen? A quick look at the screen fastened to his wrist shows him a reading of one of his Badniks; a heat signature moving about in the kitchen. That way, then. On light feet, the doctor strides along the hallway.
Peering around the doorframe to the kitchen, Robotnik realizes that moving quietly probably wouldn't even have been necessary. Stone is thoroughly distracted. While the doctor watches, the agent moves around the kitchen with practiced ease, switching easily from handling the coffee maker to cutting something into slices and back again. His suit jacket is missing – Robotnik spots it hanging over the only chair in the room – and his sleeves are rolled up as he goes about his work, humming to himself.
There are also two Badniks are circling the agent slowly, hampering his careless spinning and turning. Stone seems quite at ease with it; he ducks and steps aside without pause, sometimes mindlessly reaching out to distribute a pat to one drone or the other as they pass him. The Badniks seem to enjoy all the movement. They are bopping up and down, sometimes drifting in close enough that one of them bumps against the agent's shoulder or hip until he shoos them away with a smile.
They are being almost affectionate, Robotnik notes with raised eyebrows. Which is not impossible in theory; he has gifted his babies with a basic intelligence, not enough to go against orders, but enough to take a liking to certain things or people, even develop a crude version of a personality in the process. But in practice, he can't remember the Badniks ever being anything but neutral or downright hostile towards anyone but himself. Interesting. And annoying. But mostly interesting.
"Careful," Stone warns right then, gently putting a hand on one of the drone's chassis to push it out of the way of the running coffee maker. "You might be waterproof, but you're still going to stain."
The Badnik beeps and floats up higher, its red eye glowing brightly when the scanning device activates. Red light moves up and down Stone's entire body, then swivels over towards the readied cup on the counter.
Immediately, Stone dives forward and pulls the beverage up and away, holding it well out of the scanners reach with an easy laugh. "Nope, sorry," the agent wags a finger at the beeping Badnik. "If I let you scan that and you learn how to make a good coffee from it, I lose the last bit of job security that I have."
That pushes Robotnik into action again; when did the barnacle come to believe he had any job security? He asks as much while he steps fully into the kitchen. "What job security?"
He is gratified to see Stone jump a little in surprise before turning towards him. Wide open, agent.
What throws him off again is the smile Stone sends his way once their gazes meet. "Ah, hello, sir."
"I do not appreciate having to come look for my coffee, Stone." Sauntering forward, the doctor stretches out a hand to greet the Badnik floating over to him, beeping merrily. He gives it a light pat and a smile in greeting before turning a glower towards the agent again. "Did you get lost on the way to the kitchen?"
There is no guilt on Stone's face, no deer-in-the-headlights-expression. He simply smiles and goes about… making a sandwich? Robotnik hadn't even been aware that the fridge had anything in it. While he is still processing that, Stone explains, "I thought it best to wait. I didn't want to interrupt your brainstorming"
Robotnik blinks at him, nonplussed. "Brainstorming?"
"The music?" Now Stone does appear slightly unsure around the edges when he looks up again. "I figured you turn it up so loud to brainstorm in peace."
Ah. He had thought… Hm. That is an acceptable explanation, Robotnik supposes. Maybe acceptable enough that he will use it to throw Stone out of the lab under the cover of brainstorming in the future.
Wait. Why does he even feel the need to justify throwing the agent out? It's his own lab!
And why is he thinking about the future, when Stone will leave soon, anyway?!
Suddenly he feels jittery again, irked by his own unruly thoughts. Looking for something to distract himself with, his gaze lands on the cup Stone had been handling. Coffee should help. He reaches for it expectantly.
What he certainly doesn't expect is for Stone to jump forward and pull it away from him. As if he is just another naughty Badnik. Surprise is short-lived, immediately replaced by anger over the disrespect, but before he can snap at the agent, Stone is already explaining, "You don't want that one, sir. It's espresso, and with no sugar."
That makes Robotnik pause. "Who says I don't drink espresso?"
"You didn't like the first one I made you."
It is said with so much confidence that it makes Robotnik's eyebrows tick up. He remembers, of course he does; but he also remembers that he had gulped down the entire cup of it, anyway. Grimacing over it, yes, but...Stone had noticed that?
"Agent," he says, pronouncing every syllable in a way that is sure to give his opposite the feeling of being slow on the uptake. "I spit three-quarters of all the coffees you made me in the first week onto your suit jackets. Has it crossed your mind that it might be your coffee making skills which are subpar?"
Stone does not even waver the slightest bit, remaining annoyingly confident. "You didn't do that because you disliked the coffee, sir."
The it's because you disliked meis left unsaid, but hangs in the air between them loud and clear, anyway.
It is an entirely correct assessment, of course, but Robotnik has not expected the other to acknowledge it so openly, especially not so calmly.
Well, at least that means he is not stupid enough to miss the fact that he is unwelcome here.
"I will make you something else." Stone's voice cuts through his racing, analyzing thoughts. The agent is already turning back towards the coffee maker, rolling up his sleeves once more from where they have slipped down. "Any preferences, sir?"
He is still so caught up in replaying the previous exchange, Robotnik answers on autopilot. "A latte. Steamed Austrian goat milk."
There is some kind of reaction to those simple words; a hitch or a sound, something that alerts Robotnik to the fact that he has just let more slip than he meant to. When his head snaps up to stare at Stone, the agent is frozen midmotion, looking to be wavering between baffled and exuberant, and the later is winning out fast. Heck, the man is basically glowing with such a mindless joy, one could think his birthday has come early, Robotnik thinks surly. It's ridiculous, really. It is just coffee. Granted, it is the first time that he comes close to requesting it, but. Just. Coffee.
Feeling uncomfortably exposed, Robotnik covers up his own stumble the way he always does – dripping poisonous malice. "If you can manage even this simple task, Agent."
It does absolutely nothing to dampen Stone's excitement, sadly. The man has the nerve to keep grinning so wide it must hurt his face, but at least he turns back around so the doctor does not have to look at it any longer. "I think we're out of Austrian Goat Milk, sir. Would regular milk work?"
They did not have any goat milk in the lab in the first place, and the smartass probably knows it. "bah! Of course you already fail with the simplest of tasks," Robotnik sniffs disdainfully, leaning against the counter while he crosses his arms and rolls his eyes. "No, it would not work, but since you're already making it – chop, chop!"
While the coffee is being prepared, Robotnik focuses on playing with his Badniks where they sidle up to him, asking for his attention with quiet beeps and light nudges. At least they still prefer him to the barnacle, the doctor thinks with a huff. Bad enough that they are taking a shine to the limpet at all.
"Here you go, sir." Stone places another cup next to him and leans against the counter next to the doctor, his own espresso in hand. "Sorry about the milk. I will pick up some goat milk before coming in tomorrow."
He is still grinning, Robotnik notes darkly. The agent can try hiding it in his cup all he wants; the doctor's eyes see it all. He has half a mind to slap the cup out of the grinning fool's hand, but he restrains himself on account of standing close enough to the agent that he could possibly fall victim to the resulting splash himself. Still grumbling under his breath, he takes a long sip of his fresh latte instead.
And. Damn it all. The stuff actually tastes good, wrong milk or not. His moustache twitches as he licks his lips, trying to figure out how it could taste this good when it doesn't even meet his preference.
"Good?" Stone asks next to him, as if reading his mind.
"No. Wrong milk," Robotnik snaps without missing a beat. He makes a point of slurping the next sip with the most disgusted face he can manage.
When he looks over again, there is still a smile lurking in the corner of the agent's mouth, creasing his eyes into something soft and warm.
Insufferable, Robotnik decides, and barks, "Break time's over, agent; get back to work!"
"Yessir." Sounding way too amused, Stone pushes off the counter immediately, knocking back his own cup in one go and throwing it into the trash with ease. Picking up his jacket on the way out, he calls back, "Oh, and, I made a sandwich, but I'm not particularly hungry anymore, so if you wanted to, sir…"
"I said back to work, agent, not back to jabbering!"
Stone has the good sense to flee without another word for once.
Left alone, Robotnik glowers for another beat or two towards the door until he is sure that the cheeky limpet is not coming back. Only when he is sure of it does he reach for the sandwich, taking a huge bite out of it. Flavors explode on his tongue immediately - cheese, tomato, ham, and some kind of spread. Simple but good. Immediately, his stomach informs him with a rumbling growl that they have not eaten since the evening before, and even then, it had only been an energy bar, shoved down his own throat without stopping in his work.
Taking only one bite and then leaving the rest for the agent to find is now out of the question; Robotnik finds himself wolfing down the entire thing in record time, even licking his lips for the last few crumbs once he is finished.
He needed that, Robotnik concedes grudgingly. He can admit when he neglects the needs of his body – it is a daily occurrence after all. What he doesn't like to admit is that Stone has found a way to sneakily provide what he needs. The entire sandwich thing seems like a trap now, set up to show the doctor how very useful his newest barnacle can be.
"Bah," he mumbles to himself, taking a sip of his latte again. Which is still too damned good.
"This is getting out of hand" Robotnik says to the Badniks hovering over his shoulders, meaning the latte, the situation and Stone, all at once.
And to make matters worse, his babies don't even beep agreeably; as if they don't see a problem with that at all.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ S ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
There is one thing about the grueling work hours Robotnik has imposed on himself by his own wishes that can prove problematic at times:
His body can't keep up with them.
No matter how brilliant he is, or how passionately he hates that fact, Robotnik is still a human being with human limits. Where his intellect goes above and beyond, never stopping, never slowing, always hungry for the next challenge, his body still ceases to work when its needs are not met. It demands food and drinks, and most of all, sleep. And when it does not get it, it claims it by force.
Thus, to say Robotnik has fallen asleep over his work a few times would be an understatement. In truth, it happens at least once or twice per week, often close to some kind of deadline he is trying to reach. It's a habit, at this point, one he is well acquainted with - he will wake up, disoriented and in pain, and need a few precious seconds to figure out that he is in his lab and has spent the past hours in an uncomfortable and undignified position slumped over his latest project.
Old news. Nothing interesting. Just another proof how inferior the human body really is.
But so far, he has always been alone when it happened.
"Sir. Sir!"
With a grunt, Robotnik slaps groggily after whatever is buzzing around next to his ear. It is loud, and it makes his headache even worse.
"Sir! You need to wake up, now." Something pushes at his shoulder - no, pulls. Shakes. That's the word.
Shaking means there is an outside force at work, his tired mind informs him.
Somehow, that is enough to kickstart the rest of Robotnik's brain, neurons starting to fire at high speed. From one second to the next, he is wide awake, information crashing in on him - he has been lying prone over his workbench, fallen asleep over his work. And there is someone right next to him, yelling at him. Touching him.
There is a threat in his lab, and he had been entirely vulnerable position.
Adrenaline floods him, and he moves on instinct. His fingers hit the buttons before he even lifts his head. A quick sequence is typed into the control gloves, short but clear.
Threat. Eliminate.
He hears the small whirring sound when the Badniks come to life, feels the air shift where his creations start to rise and take aim.
The hand on his shoulder stays, and an entirely too calm voice says "Sir, it's me."
That is when the rest of his mind catches up with reality uncomfortably and sudden, and Robotnik recognizes the perceived "threat". His thumb slams down into his palm and the sound of lasers preparing to fire stops instantly.
Lifting his head has his neck crack and dizziness overcome him briefly. Robotnik blinks rapidly to clear his blurry vision fully, then glowers at the hand on his shoulder before he lifts his glare higher, towards the owner of the limb.
"Agent" he hisses. His heart is in his throat, and he cannot even say if it is because of the perceived danger to himself, or the one to Stone. His inability to categorize it only makes him angrier. "Are you this keen on getting shot?!"
"Not particularly, sir" the agent says. Still too calm, the genius' mind points out. As if there are not currently several red dots littered over his chest and face, seconds away from pulverizing him.
A snap of his fingers, and the Badniks stand down at once. Robotnik presses a hand over his eyes, trying to focus. He still feels strangely far away and at the same time, wide awake because of the adrenaline. "How long was I out?"
"Thirty minutes, sir," Stone finally seems to realize that he is still touching him and pulls away. He keeps hovering over the doctor's shoulder, however. "I would have let you sleep longer, but we're going to be late."
"Late?" He feels like he is trying to understand a language he is not familiar with; something that has not happened in a long time.
"Sir." Does Stone sound stressed? Robotnik squints blearily at him, and, yes, the usually so relaxed agent seems a little tense, talking faster than usual, "The meeting, sir. The presentation of the tank-Badnik. We're going to be late if we don't leave now."
"The... that's tomorrow. Thursday."
"Today is Thursday, sir.
Today is...?
Robotnik's eyes snap open fully and he surges to his feet, immediately losing his balance when his body protests the fast movement with a wave of dizziness. He flails out his arms and Stone is there immediately, catching one arm to help steady him.
Pulling away so fast he nearly loses his balance a second time, Robotnik rounds on him to thunder, "You let me sleep?!"
"For thirty minutes, sir. No longer." A slight pause, then, a little quieter, "You seemed to need it."
"No longer? If there's a building on fire around you and the fire department takes thirty minutes for a cigarette break, would you be so calm then, too? Thirty minutes. You utter waste of oxygen!"'
"Sir…"
"I should have let the babies fire instead, this time it would be entirely worth the paperwork-...!"
"Sir!" Finally, Stone raises his voice enough to drown out the angry ranting flying left and right from him like throwing knives. It is possibly the first time that he interrupts Robotnik while he is speaking, and the sheer offense of it is enough to shut the Doctor's mouth with a Click. Stone continues on before he can find his footing again. "We still have twenty minutes to get to the meeting. All you need to do is grab your laptop and follow me outside to the car waiting there. I have prepared a change of clothes for you so you can change during the ride."
Freezing in the middle of a building temper tantrum the size of a hurricane, Robotnik loses several precious seconds with simply staring at the other man. He blames the last tendrils of sleep still slowing him down for the way his mind seems unable to grasp what he has heard immediately. "You. Prepared."
"Everything, sir. But I would never touch your laptop, of course."
Part of him still wants to explode at the agent for his continued gall of thinking independently in this very lab, of making decisions for himself, but there is no time – and, for once, it is actually a… useful thing?
Robotnik does not give himself the time to dwell on that development, instead grabs his laptop and strides straight past Stone and out of the lab.
There really is a car waiting out there already, motor running. Efficient, a tiny voice in the back of his head points out.
"How long is the ride?" Robotnik snaps while yanking open the door, loud enough to drown out both the car's engine and the little part of him wanting to be impressed. He hasn't bothered checking where the meeting would be taking place.
"Depends on how I drive." Stone jogs around the car for the driver's side. "I can be there in fifteen or in eight."
"Make it seven!" With that, he slams the door closed behind himself hard enough to make the car sway on its wheels.
As an afterthought, he presses the button to raise the partition between the driver seat and the backseat. There is a lot he would do to shock his newest limpet, but changing inelegantly in the cramped backseat of a car would be more likely a case of shooting himself in the foot.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ S ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
They make it in seven and a half minutes. Robotnik is fairly confident that Stone has exceeded several speed limits, and he knows for sure that the man has ignored the one-way street shield at the last corner; he has seen it fly past clear as day.
By the time Robotnik catapults himself out of the car and strides directly for the building they're parked in front of, he has changed the clothes he had slept in for a new suit, and is shrugging on his coat in one dramatic flourish. Stone falls in step right behind him.
They breeze past the guards at the entrance with a quick flick of their badges to show they are who they are, skip the metal detector entirely – expecting Robotnik to pass that one would be a right tomfoolery after all – and aim straight for the elevators at the back.
Slamming the button with his fist, Robotnik asks over his shoulder. "Who is going to be present for this farce of a show again?"
"That would be..." Stone starts rattling off a list of names without hesitating over a single one, making the doctor wonder briefly if he actually had stayed up all night to rehearse the list.
Most of the names don't ring a bell for Robotnik - not important enough - but a few do, and they all make him groan in utter annoyance and disbelief. "They send a delegation of paper pushers with the collective brainpower of a sock puppet to this?! I knew it. I always knew it. They exist only to waste my time!"
"According to quick research, most of these people will be the ones using the tank once you finish it and it can be mass-produced. They probably think they need to know what they can look forward to."
"Meeeep, wrong again, Agent." The elevator arrives finally, and Robotnik steps inside and switches to hammering the button for their destined floor. He is so pent-up with frustration and annoyance, he does not even realize he is sharing more with his current barnacle than he ever meant to, mouth running at hyper speed while he rants. "They just want a piece of the cake, see their names pop up in the development process. They will put forward harebrained changes and upgrades, which won't be possibly feasible at all, and then insist that it must be made feasible. And once I go and do make the impossible possible once again, they won't like the outcome anymore and have me return it all back to the roots. Of course, all the wasted time and effort will be on me, for making it too complicated. That's how things work around here. Do keep up."
The elevator finally begins to move. Robotnik taps his foot to the rhythm of the quiet music playing in the background. He doesn't expect Stone to actually respond to his personal rant, so he nearly jumps into the air in surprise when the agent does speak up. "Would it be possible to present the tank already overloaded with so many upgrades and extras that it becomes basically useless?"
When he notices Robotnik slowly turning toward him, Stone hastens to specify, "Not in reality, of course, just for the presentation. So, they have to see it is not feasible, and you can simplify the design back to your original idea?"
"... They would still think it was their idea in the first place, causing them to hopefully back off, and I would not have to invest extra work in an already finished project." The thought had once or twice crossed Robotnik's mind, too, but he had always pushed it away in favor of another project, another dead line, and forgotten about it again. To have it presented to him now from this unlikely source has him arch an eyebrow and take a look at Stone as if he is seeing him for the very first time. "Agent, that is downright devious. Who knew you had it in you?"
It is almost laughable, how easily that makes Stone stand a little straighter, smile tugging at his lips. "I just thought it would be nice to turn the tables and waste their time for once, sir."
"Surprisingly sound thinking for an imbecile, agent." The elevator doors open, and Robotnik continues his stride without pause, flying down the hallway towards the meeting room Stone had named. "But your sudden inspiration comes late. By now, adjustments to the presentation would take time we don't have."
Stone overtakes him to open the door for him, then follows him inside. "Well, actually, we still have twenty minutes to spare. Would that be enough, sir?"
Already in the middle of setting up his laptop and the papers he needs, Robotnik stops and replays that in his head. Now wait a minute; something does not add up there. Eyes narrowing, the doctor rounds on the agent. "You said the meeting starts in twenty minutes."
"It starts in twenty minutes from now – thirty-something, back in the lab. I wanted to make sure we arrive with some time to spare."
Sharp anger surges through Robotnik then, a kneejerk reaction to being tricked - before his mind replays their previous conversation, and incredulity pushes then anger aside. He hasn't been tricked at all. Stone had said they had in twenty-five, but he had never said that was when the meeting was due to begin. It was a subtle thing, a minimal change of wording, but he had neither lied nor tricked in any way.
The sheer astonishment that he has been misled without being actually misled has Robotnik speechless for the record time of five seconds before he finds his voice again.
"Agent!" Some of the anger churning in his chest is still clear in his voice, making the exclamation harsh as a whiplash before he catches himself and modulates it to something quieter. "Has anybody ever told you that you are a smartass?!"
A smile flits of Stone's face. "In passing, sir."
"Oh, haha, aren't you hilarious. Never do that again, or there will be hell to pay."
Stone's smile only grows; clearly, he has already figured out that he will get away with it this time. "Understood, sir."
"For your continued ability to breath and function, I would hope so. Now." Robotnik waves a jand - flick to the door, then flick towards the place right beside him. "Go get me a latte, fast. And then get over here and help me mutilate my genius idea. I need an imbecile's perspective for this."
"On it, sir"
While Stone ducks out of the room, Robotnik opens up the presentation. Complicate things, hm? Well, that should be manageable. He is known for the mayhem he brings; this will be child's play.
With a wicked grin, he starts typing at high speed.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ S ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"You know what the worst thing about being a genius surrounded by idiots is, Agent?" Robotnik laments as soon as they are back out of that room, door slamming closed behind them.
"Sir?" Stone looks genuinely interested to hear the answer.
"They lack even the brain capacity to appreciate my finer insults. What good does it do when I tell someone that the disparity between us is too vast to quantify, when all it earns me is the expression of a confused sheep?"
"I could start translating for you, sir," the agent offers immediately, only the light creases at the corner of his eyes betraying his laughter. "Dumb it down a little."
"Tempting," Robotnik snaps his fingers and stops so suddenly to wipe around and point at the other that the agent nearly topples over in his attempt not to collide with him. "Test run. The previous statement, how would you dumb that down? Ten seconds to think. Tick-tack, Agent."
Stone does not even miss a beat, answering so quick and sure that it is clear he has already thought it over before. "Either call them a low life or simply basic."
"Basic! Oh, that's good!" Robotnik starts cackling gleefully, clapping his hands, and keeps walking with a spring in his step. He must look like a mad man, but who cares? He feels exuberant; overflowing with energy. The presentation had been a success all along the line. The little makeover he had given his invention last minute had caused the exact reaction he – they - had predicted: The sock puppets had wanted it simpler, easier to handle, easier to understand. Robotnik had put everything into his own part of the play, had opposed them over every single bit loudly and angrily, and then, when enough time had passed, he would pretend to cave and change the design back into something easier. The sock puppets were appeased; not knowing they had played right into the doctor's hand.
It had been glorious. At one point, Robotnik had glanced over in the middle of a major's rant over the too complex remote control of the tank – Stone's addition to the makeover – and caught Stone's eyes creasing with suppressed laughter. He had had to look away then, or he would have started cackling himself.
He had never had so much fun with one of those presentations. Best meeting of his entire life, Robotnik decides. He feels so high on his victory, he even has the urge to say something nice for once. "The complex remote control was a nice touch, Agent. I wouldn't have thought something like that could be too complicated, but alas, the imbeciles have ways of surprising me."
Out of the corner of his eyes, he catches Stone's surprised blink, before the man starts beaming. "Ah, that was… thank you, sir. I'm glad I could help."
Right, because the agent always seemed happy to help him, even if it meant making fools out of the rest of the government. Robotnik musters Stone, seeing him a new, more favorable light. Having someone on his side in a room full of squabbling, braindead monkeys had been...a welcome change. Not to mention that Stone had performed admirably this morning, even while under pressure.
Maybe - and even just thinking about it briefly makes him really feel like the lunatic he is so often called - maybe there are actual advantages to having an assistant.
Hm. That stray thought deserves closer examination, Robotnik decides. As soon as they are back in the lab-...
"Doctor Robotnik!"
There is a call from the direction they had just come from, followed by the muffled sound of heavy boots.
"And here I thought we had gotten rid of them for today," Robotnik says to Stone while they turn as one, loud enough that he is sure the man approaching them has overheard it.
And, yes, one look confirms it. The sour expression on the approaching military man's face is priceless. Especially when he salutes despite it once he comes to stand before them. "Doctor, I'm glad you're still here. Impressive work back there; you managed to convince even the last sceptic of-..."
"You know they say time is money?" Robotnik cut in, idly playing with the screen at his wrist. "Because it's true. You can't even calculate the amount of tax money you're wasting by keeping me here longer than I need to. So get to the point."
The imbecile's voice stutters into silence on a hoarse note, and briefly, the man seems unsure how to proceed. Robotnik decides to help him along by imitating the ticking of a clock by tapping the seconds onto his wrist-screen.
"Doctor." Wrong-footed or not, the man charges ahead stubbornly. "As I've been meaning to say, we have been very impressed by your work in there-..."
"As you should be."
"... and we would be interested in commissioning a similar project, only in a bigger dimension."
That actually makes Robotnik pause for a beat, eyebrows climbing up. Did not see that coming. "I am not in the habit of taking commissions from just anyone... Sergeant? Major?"
"Major." The so-proclaimed major dug around in his west and unearthed a set of documents, smoothing them down before holding them out for the doctor to take. "We thought you would at least take a look at our proposal, think it over."
Ah, now Robotnik sees what is happening here. Someone is either too impatient to wait until their requests makes its slow and torturous way through the official channels, or is afraid that it might be rejected altogether by the higher ups when they got to see it. Logical solution - go straight to the source.
Too bad that the source is not in the habit of being helpful.
"One second... ah, there, thought it over. Answer's No." Robotnik waves for Stone to follow him, turning to go. His brief interest in this exchange has already passed. "Agent"
Stone falls in step beside him again, and Robotnik is more than ready to finally get out of here.
Out of the corner of his eyes, he registers sudden movement; the major takes a step forward, hand outstretched as if to grab his shoulder. "You could at least-...!"
Robotnik stops and turns, ready to go against the no violence rule this once should this ape dare to touch him -
But Stone is faster. Shifting half a step to the side, he puts himself firmly in between Robotnik and the major. From his position, Robotnik can only make out part of the agent's face, but Stone's voice is low and cutting while he addresses the major. "Any requests for the Doctor need to go through the official channels first. No exceptions."
The major hesitates, clearly only now really taking notice of the third man in the hallway. He eyes up Stone briefly, clearly trying to get a read on him, perhaps even pondering if he could get past this new obstacle.
Entirely at the end of his patience, Robotnik clears his throat and leans around Stone to give the major a sickly-sweet smile. "Bureaucracy. You know how it is. Now, go bother someone less important."
The man's face twitches, twisting with barely contained rage and annoyance. His hand twitches as if he wants to make one last try and hold the papers out for the doctor, but he quickly seems to reconsider when Robotnik's fake smile shifts into a sneer.
Seeing he has lost, the thin veneer of professional cracks, and the major goes red in the face, teeth bared. He scoffs and makes as if to throw the papers to the ground, then changes his mind. "You take this, then!"
He reaches over and shoves the rejected papers against Stone's chest with such a force that the smaller man stumbles a step back before he catches himself again.
It is the movement that draws Robotnik's attention fleetingly, but it is the subtle shift in Stone's expression that makes him really look. The usually neutral face of the agent hardens, jaw setting, as he glances up from the crumpled papers to send the Major a dark look. For the briefest of moments, everything looks like Stone will say or do something to put the other man in his place.
Then, a pause. A blink, and Stone straightens again while the usual neutral mask falls back over his face.
The entire thing took less than a second or two, but for Robotnik's sharp mind, there is a billion of new data to be gleaned from it, and he starts analyzing and cataloguing it immediately.
The picture he comes up with based on it is not one he likes, since it contradicts two weeks' worth of observations.
He had thought he was starting to get a reading on the enigma that is Agent Stone. Days, weeks, of mistreatment, of disrespect and obstacles in his way, and the Agent had simply smiled over all of it. In Robotnik, that left only one possible explanation: Stone bows to authority, without question. He is happy to serve, with no real drive to take on a leading position. Either very little ego or pride, or able to push both aside completely while on the job.
The picture had been a clear one, to him. The only logical solution as to why Stone is so alright with everything he throws his way.
But this interaction shows something different. In a single passing moment, Stone had shown hurt pride, anger, and the brief wish to put a higher-ranking officer in his place. And that over such a small thing - something which comes not even close to all the things Robotnik had put him through. This shouldnt be enough to get a rise out of him; not if he really is the man Robotnik had thought he is.
Well. Apparently, he isn't, part of Robotnik's mind he immediately believes it, believes all too readily that Stone has just been pretending for the last two weeks. Of course he has! It has just been going too perfectly, hasn't it? How foolish of him, to think that there could actually be a man who would let himself be pushed around again and again and simply take it with a pleasant smile; who could call his work magnificent, after he had seen the true personality of the genius behind it. Of course it was all pretense.
And pretense means he wants something, Robotnik's mind supplies. The thought immediately triggers a tidal wave of white-hot rage. Of course. They all want something, always. Stone is no better; he is just a better actor than most.
But oh, he had come close, that little rat. So close to manage the impossible and slip into the Doctor's better graces. For a brief moment, Robotnik had wondered what it would be like, having an assistant for good.
If they didn't have this little run-in just now, Stone maybe could have even managed it.
Now, confronted with new information, Robotnik has to rethink the foundation on which he had built his opinion of Agent Stone. He has to reassess. Change the variables. Recalculate.
Wich means, in simple words - he has to acknowledge that he had been wrong about something. No, worse than that. He has to acknowledge that someone has managed to trick him.
It does not sit well with him.
His narrow-eyed gaze finds his so-called assistant, who is back to looking like a pleasant, forgettable little servant.
Stone would soon learn that nobody is allowed to mislead Doctor Ivo Robotnik.