~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ S ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The day cannot end soon enough. Stone still has not cottoned on that something is wrong, is still smiling privately over their perceived good work. His obvious good mood in turn darkens Robotnik's own even further, makes him want to reach out and strangle the little pest who had dared to try and sneak into his good graces. But he keeps himself in check, barely. Internally, the doctor is seething, twitchy and restless with anger that wants out, out, out. On the outside he is quiet, quieter than usual even, but that is easy to cover up. He simply throws himself onto his next project, and Stone is left none the wiser that the doctor is plotting something especially for him.
Of course he could just try and fire him, Robotnik knows. He has the option of firing the assistants himself, should they really prove unsuited for his work. But the process is a long and tedious one, agency and HR demanding detailed explanation as to why the assistant is not suited, asking him to reconsider - all in all, doing their best to be a stumbling block every step of the way. He has never let to come to it before.
Not to mention, Robotnik sneers, not to mention that they won't let him fire Stone, their own little spy. Too valuable.
He will have to take care of this particular barnacle himself, and he already has a thing or two in store for him
By late noon, he needs Stone gone. He cannot stand his presence any longer, nor can he continue his preparations for the traitor with him present. So he announces an early end to the work.
Despite the allure of a free evening, Stone looks more concerned than elated. "Sir? Are you sure?"
He really does have to resist him in everything, doesn't he. The trait which had become almost amusing now nearly makes Robotnik snap, but he barely catches himself and forces a nonchalant shrug. "We made good progress today, the presentation went off without a hitch, and nothing else is so pressing that it can't wait until tomorrow. I will wrap up here, too. What, Agent - is your lack of social life making you so dependent on your job?"
"You got me." That, finally, manages to get an amused tilt of Stone's lips. Robotnik immediately wants to burn it off with a laser. "Alright, if you're really sure that it's okay for today..."
"Of course I am. Scram, agent, or I will find something to occupy you with for the next 48 hours straight."
A huff of laughter, and the agent moves, stretching extensively before making his way to the lab's door. "Then, good evening, sir. Hopefully you will be able to get some more sleep."
Robotnik's shoulder twitch up, anger rising to a peak over the platitude. He barely catches himself and grumbles something that could count as an answer.
Once the door closes behind Stone, Robotnik springs into action. With a quick command and a click the door locks twice, making sure no one can enter without his say-so. Next, he pulls up the drafts for the improved security system at the lab's entrance - drafts which are still in their early development phase, but that should be no problem. Spite is an excellent driving force to finish projects in record time.
Cracking his knuckles, Robotnik goes to work, a wicked smirk curling his lips as his plan begins to take shape. This is going to be good.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ S ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The next morning starts with the perfect conditions; the rain is coming down in sheets. Robotnik, not a superstitious man at all, still considers this a sign that even the weather is on his side. All preparations are in place. All that is missing now is Stone.
Eight o'clock, dead on time, the alarm to the lab's outer door goes off. The sound is deafening - if you're standing outside the lab. Inside, Robotnik has made sure that the noise is on an acceptable level.
With a cheerful little flick of his finger, he opens the video feed of the camera at the entrance.
The sight that greets him nearly makes him cackle. It is still raining buckets outside, and since there is nothing to provide any shelter, Agent Stone is already soaked to the bone, suit plastered to his shivering frame and drops falling from his hair into his eyes while he fruitlessly tries to blink them away. Just as Robotnik watches, the man shakes himself like a dog, spraying water droplets in every direction. As if that would help.
The doctor's mood improves significantly and he reaches for the intercom "Agent! What's the noise about?"
"Sir?" To his credit, Stone zeroes in pretty quickly on the camera once he looks for it. There is a crease starting between his brow, Robotnik notes gleefully. It's not a frown yet, but it is already a far cry from the ever-pleasant facade the agent had been wearing around the lab for the last few weeks. "Sir, my badge does not seem to work anymore. The alarm went off when I tried it. Are there any new security protocols I should know about?"
"A simple security scan at every entrance, Agent," briefly, Robotnik wonders how much of his malicious joy really translates through the speakers. He hopes it's a lot. "Facial recognition, to make sure only authorized personnel has access to the lab. A little safeguard so no uninvited guests can come to my party, you see. Badges can be stolen easily after all. Don't tell me you missed the memo?"
"There was no..." Stone's face changes, confusion shifting towards a sort of understanding. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, clearly fighting for composure. "How do I get authorized?"
"Oh that is the easiest thing. Just smile into the camera so we can get a nice picture of you for the database." Smirking with glee, Robotnik reaches for another button. "Say Cheeeese."
A quick press, and a blinding flash goes off right above the camera. There will be no photo taken of course. The entire exercise has only the goal of adding insult to injury. Robotnik can hear the muffled curse under the Agent's breath while he squeezes his eyes shut und turns away just a beat too late. He will be seeing spots for a while now.
Contemplating the bedraggled man in the video, Robotnik considers how to go about this next. The original plan was to leave Stone out there for longer, see how long he would hold out before he simply left. But that would not satisfy the anger raging in his chest, the hunger for revenge demanding to be sated. No, Robotnik wants to do this face-to-face, wants to see Stone's expression when he confronts him with the truth.
After circling lazily over the corresponding button a few more times, Robotnik operates the mechanism to deactivate the alarm and open the door. He even goes as far as to turn his chair sideways so he can keep an eye on the door; interested to see if the cold and the wetness have finally managed to wash off all that faked good mood, break that man's spirit a bit.
No such thing. Stone does not come into the lab cowed like a bedraggled wet dog, but he is also not his usual pleasant self. He storms in, sending water spraying in every direction, and for the first time Robotnik has known him, he looks absolutely furious.
Then again, has he ever really known him? Robotnik thinks, bitter and angry.
"Sir," Stone starts as soon as he has come to a stop with a wet squelch of his soggy shoes. His voice is tight with anger, fists balled. "Sir, if you could notify me of such security updates in the future, I would be very grateful."
"Tch, tch," kicking his chair in a way that makes him circle slowly around himself, Robotnik wags a finger. "Really now, agent. When I send you a memo you are too busy to read, then don't blame me-..."
"There was no memo." It is not the first time Stone dares to interrupt him, but the first time he sounds sharp and annoyed while doing it. Had Robotnik not counted it as a clear win, he would have made sure to sic a Badnik or two onto him for the insubordination. Instead, he cups a hand behind his ear and leans in closer, faking curiosity "What was that?"
"There was no memo", Stone insists. "We both know there wasn't. And if you deny me access to the lab - deny me access to where you are - then I won't be able to do my job correctly, sir. That can't be what you want?"
"Your job," the word feels like acid in his mouth. "Tell me, Agent, what exactly is your job here, again?"
"To support and protect you." The answer comes quick and sure, no hesitation.
It is the last straw to break Robotnik's carefully cultivated calm facade - the way Stone lies in his face with so much certainty, even now. In a flash, the doctor is on his feet and flies across the room. Forget about the violence is prohibited rule, forget about playing nicer than he is. He only wants to hurt this lying little bastard who dares to try and trick him even now. His hand closes around Stone's throat like a vice, slamming the agent backwards against the wall hard enough to shake the shelf nearby.
Perhaps Stone had not expected him to get physical, since he puts up absolutely no resistance. He slams against the wall with a quiet oomph and his hand shoots up to close around Robotnik's wrist - but he doesn't try to loosen the grip, just lets his hand rest there lightly.
Oh, Robotnik has no doubt that the agent could break free if he wants to. Could probably break the doctor's arm faster than anyone the human eye could track. But if he even attempts it, then a single push of a button will be enough to have him be riddled with laser fire before he can take a single step.
For now, Stone stays, looking up at Robotnik looming over him with open surprise. And yet - no fear, the doctor notes, white-hot rage burning in his chest. Even now, this little barnacle refuses to be afraid of him. Insufferable, infuriating little...!
He crowds in closer, leaning so close that the tips of their noses nearly brush. "Care to try again, agent?"
Even through the control gloves, the way Stone's throat moves while he swallows is noticeable. And yet, his voice comes out steady. "My job is to support and protect you, si-..."
"Oh give me a BREAK." Slamming his free hand against the nearest shelf with enough force to make it rattle, Robotnik reared back, rolling his eyes towards the ceiling. "You can drop the school theatre act now. I'm asking what you really want here, agent. Information by looking over my shoulder? Hoping to keep me in check? Or is it something boring like the salary? I bet the pay you handsomely for putting up with on, do enlighten me. What is it that makes you come back here, again and again?"
Over the duration of his rant, Stone's eyes had widened further and further, and when Robotnik finishes on a snarl, the agent looks positively dumbstruck. He tries to shake his head, then realizes he can't due to the iron grip on his throat. Instead, he shrugs a tad helplessly. "Sir, I do consider supporting you my job, exactly that, I... I really don't know what gave you the idea that there is something else?"
"The idea, he says. As if it's not obvious," Robotnik snarls, not even in the mood for mocking, only anger when he hisses, "Since you have been pushed onto me, you have pretended to be so unbothered by whatever comes your way. No matter the work load, no matter how I treat you, no matter the disrespect. You pretend to like it. You pretend to smile. As if it all leaves you sooo cold." A snap of his fingers, a quick command on his gloves while he sneers. "But that's not true, is it?"
A holoscreen flickers to life behind his right shoulder on command. He does not need to turn to make sure that the video being displayed is the one he wanted. The look on Agent Stone's says more than enough to know. He watches with wide eyes as the feed from Robotnik's button cam plays on a loop on the screen, showing again and again the way Stone had reacted to being shoved by that nobody of a major. The camera is zoomed in on the agent's face, and deliberately slows down at just the right moment to really bring out the way his expression twists in anger.
The feed repeats four or five times before Stone finds his voice again, eyes dropping toward the ground. "I see...I'm sorry, sir. I shouldn't have let that get to me. I understand if you're angry over my unprofessional behavior... "
"Psh!" Robotnik waves his hand, so close in front of Stone that he nearly hits the other's nose. "You think I'm someone who cares about professional behavior? I couldn't care less."
"But... then what...?"
"That," a vague wave towards the screen, "was nothing compared to what I do to you on a daily basis. And yet, it was enough to make you lose your cool. You had a billion of reasons to get even angrier in this very lab, but you never did. Will you really go ahead and try to tell me that you have not just been pretending to like your work here?"
If Stone had looked mildly confused before, he is now downright gaping in astonishment. "You think I was lying to you... Because I didn't get angryat you?"
"Because, you waste of molecular space, you pretended to be perfectly alright with something you were not. As this clearly shows."
"That was not the same situation! I never pretended-...!"
"Why should I believe anything from you, when all I've seen so far is just one big act?"
For a moment, it looks like Stone will keep protesting; he opens his mouth, eyes wide... and then slowly closes it again. Takes a deep breath (or as deep as he currently can). When he does speak up, it is much calmer than before, words clearly picked out one by one and presented to the doctor with outmost care. "You're right, sir. Not everything leaves me cold. There are things - a lot of things - which bother me. Like boring speeches. Having to repeat myself unnecessarily. And especially... I especially hate," at this point, Stone briefly falters, frowning while he tries to find the right words. "I can't stand it when someone thinks they are smarter, better, or worth more than me, when they have done nothing to warrant it. When they think they can look down on me, or push me around, even though it would take absolutely no effort from me to put them in their rightful place. And yes, I have a bit of a temper when it comes to that. It is unprofessional, I know, but I admit it."
It is probably the most Robotnik has heard Stone talk ever since meeting him, and the doctor tilts his head consideringly, replaying words and expressions in his mind, searching for mistakes. "You do realize, agent, that you are only confirming my suspicions?"
Stone raises his chin; a gesture of defiance, even in his current position. "I'm sorry, sir, but that is not true."
Something about the way the other sounds so confident gives Robotnik pause, and he demands, "No? Explain yourself, agent."
"I don't mind if it's you doing the pushing," Stone says immediately, back straight and voice firm. "Because if someone has the right to look down on me, or on anyone, really, wouldn't it be you? You're the smartest man of our lifetime, maybe in the entirety of history. No one holds a candle to you, especially not me. We must all seem unbearably slow to you, so it shouldn't be a surprise you lose your patience, or... or look for ways to entertain yourself on my behalf, when all of this must be terribly boring to a mind like yours sometimes. I'm okay with that. I'm happy, even, if it means you can get a little break from all your work because of it."
At this point, Stone pauses and seems to wait for a reaction to all that he had said. But Robotnik, for all his genius, can't seem to find any words. Oh, he tries, jaws working and mind racing, but he comes up empty. It just - all sounds so genuine, but...
Apparently taking his silence as a sign that he is not yet convinced, Stone speaks up again, quieter this time, almost softly. "I like working for you, sir. It's as simple as that. Your work is... amazing. Magnificent. Someone like me could probably not even tell you how much, because I don't have the words for it. Being allowed to be close and assist you in any way is already the greatest honor for me. "And no, this is not always easy." At this point, he cracks a lopsided smile, eyes glittering. "But that's maybe part of why I like it. Keeps me on my toes."
Pausing once more, Stone frowns, then finishes firmly, "I wouldn't risk this position in order to spy on you or whatever you think I'm doing here, sir. I value it too much for that."
Silence descends over them. Stone finally seems to have run out of steam, and Robotnik is, for once, actually struck speechless. His gaze rakes over Stone's face, searching for any hint of hesitation, for the smallest flicker. Anything which could give away a possible lie.
There is nothing. Even his keen gaze cannot find anything.
But it had been the same thing for the past weeks, hasn't it? A traitorous part of his mind, all-too familiar, whispers. He had not seen it then, either. How could he be sure he wasn't missing something now, as well?
He cannot risk it. He won't risk it.
All breath hisses out between Robotnik's teeth. Abruptly, he lets go off Stone and steps back, shaking out his hand as if that would get rid of the feeling of Stone's pulse beneath his fingertips. "You're dismissed, agent."
Stone freezes, hand at his own throat. For the first time, there is fear in his face when he looks up again sharply; fear and incredulity. "Sir...!"
"Dismissed!" Robotnik repeats, much louder than before. "Is that too high for you to grasp, agent? It means your so-called services are no longer required. I have no need for you here. You can leave."
Silently, he dares Stone to try and argue again; to appeal to his mercy. He is just waiting for him to do it, so he can press a single button and send the whole battalion of Badniks after him without hesitation.
Maybe Stone sees it in his face, since he does not try. He pushes off the wall silently, shoulders hunched inwards and head lowered, and turns to leave.
Robotnik waits until the door falls closed behind Stone, then waits even longer – but the door does not open again. Stone does not come back.
Only after what feels like an eternity, the doctor allows himself to draw breath… and finds it gets stuck in his throat, leaving an uncomfortable tightness behind.
How ironic.
For days, weeks, he had tried to get rid of Stone, and failed.
Turns out, all that had been necessary was a single sentence from him.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ S ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Robotnik had won. He had gotten his way, and the barnacle-slash-spy is gone from his personal sanctum.
Oh sure - there will be a new assistant soon enough. There always is, and there always will be. But at least, it will be back to the old routine. None of them will stay for long, he will make sure of it. Stone was a special case; a one in a million candidate who just happened to last longer than the average imbecile. It won't happen again.
And for the time being, he knows that he had come out on top.
So why. Why does it not feel like a victory at all?!
He is more restless than ever before; anger and tension buzzing beneath his skin like an angry bee hive. The expected feeling of triumph never comes, and instead of peace of mind, he finds himself unable to focus, unable to get back into the groove of his work - work he can finally do on his lonesome again.
If only he could focus on it and actually do it.
Instead of working, Robotnik finds himself pacing the lab, aimlessly tapping at screens, not really seeing what they display. Instead he finds his gaze shifting so often towards the empty corner by the door that he finally snaps and flings his own chair in that direction, not at all satisfied when metal crashes upon metal.
He tries coffee next. A latte to calm his frenzied nerves. But even though he makes it just right - he knows he does, following the steps with scientific accuracy - the beverage tastes awful enough that he spits it to the ground on the first sip and throws the rest of the cup against the far wall. He does not make another attempt at it, instead decides it's a waste of his time, and he can function without caffeine just fine.
He resolutely ignores the headache forming over his right eye.
Even the Badniks circling the lab seem off. They beep quietly as they make their rounds, high and questioning. Searching for something.
It is only when one of them starts scanning the corner by the door that it hits Robot nik. Realization feels like a weight lead in his stomach, and he is trembling while he gets up, probably for the first time raising his voice in genuine rage against his own creations, "No, no, no! You're not supposed to look for him! He's not here! He won't be here again! And he's not going to turn my own machines against me!"
The answering beeps sound like disagreement to his incredulous ears. No. He will not lose control over his own lab, his own babies; not to a traitorous barnacle. He types in a quick sequence into his gloves, one he rarely ever uses. The effect is immediate; the Badniks freeze in midair, beeping quietly, before they all turn as one and obediently float back to their respective shelves.
Robotnik watches with sharp eyes as they slot back into their designated place, powering down one by one. Standby mode will have to do for now. He will go over their programming later and make sure that something like this won't ever happen again. That is the good thing about machines, he thinks, vicious and bitter. He can simply program them to his liking whenever he wants to.
If only his own mind could be as easily handled, as well.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ S ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Finally, at some point, Robotnik realizes he has wasted away almost the entire work day, and has nothing to show for it. He has been staring at the same screen blindly for the past who-knows-how-long, not doing anything with the data it shows him. This ends now, he decides, slamming his fist against the screen hard enough to crack the very edge of it. He doesn't even feel the resulting pain, too focused on his frustration. Whatever human emotion is currently plaguing him, it is nothing what a brilliant mind like his can't overcome. He just has to help it along a bit.
Ducking slightly, he unearths his headphones and puts them on. Fingers flying over the screens, he searches for a certain playlist. There - World Dominance. That should put his mind back on track. Hitting play, the doctor drops back into his chair, cracking his knuckles. It was time to get to work, even if it means he has to force his unruly mind into submission.
Nine, maybe ten songs in, he finally has managed to make some progress; progress that feels like pulling his own teeth out one by one with his own hands, but progress no less. Mildly satisfied, Robotnik allows himself the first break and leans back, kicking his chair into a slow spinning motion. His headache is at an all-time high, his tongue glued to the roof of his mouth with dehydration and the need for coffee, but he is making progress. Progress is all that counts. It's fine. Everything is fine.
Another slow circle around his own axis while he blinks slowly, trying to get rid of the spots dancing in front of his tired eyes. How late is it, anyway? He had worked the last night through already to get the security system ready for Sto- the barnacle's arrival, and his body feels like this might be the second night without sleep. He feels slow and lethargic.
Another turn spins him round and round, and he is almost back towards facing the screen when he notices movement out of the corner of his eyes, and stops himself abruptly by slamming the heel of his foot down.
Movement? No, impossible. He is alone in the lab.
Robotnik's hands fly up towards his headphones and he rips them off at the same time as he gets to his feet and whips around towards the now open door, question on his lips already, "Age-…?!"
The word dies on his tongue when he suddenly finds himself starring down a gun's barrel.
For a beat, everything seems to freeze, world narrowing down on the fact that there is an actual weapon being aimed at him. Then his mind kicks into overdrive, assessing and observing a million things at inhuman speed: It is not Stone who has just entered the lab without his permission. Instead, he finds himself face to face with two strangers dressed in full taskforce gear, both of them aiming weapons at him.
Not government men, part of him warns, and that's when he finally finds himself moving again. Too late, much too late, Robotnik flicks his wrists and –
"Don't move," comes the voice of the man on the right, muffled by the cloth covering the lower part of his face, before Robotnik can so much as press one button. "Move a single finger, and you're dead, doc."
Robotnik freezes in place, fingertips so close to the goal, mind still running circles. The Badniks are powered down. No chance to give them verbal commands. If only he could press even one button on his gloves, then…
"Nuh-uh, wouldn't do that, doc." The one on the right seems to read his mind; either that, or it is just showing very clearly on his face. The stranger waves his weapon around a bit, as if it is not already directly in the doctor's face. "No moving, I said. Not even a single finger. We know what those gloves are capable of."
Bristling at the mere implication that those goons could possibly understand all the secrets and dangers these gloves hold, Robotnik opens his mouth to tell them just that, in no uncertain terms, but finds himself once again thwarted when the man snaps, suddenly seeming angry, "And no talking. Be a nice lil' genius and walk backwards until you can sit down in your chair, and stay quiet. Now."
Left with no other options, Robotnik walks slowly backwards until the back of his knees hit the edge of his chair and he can let himself fall onto it. He is not allowed to move, or talk, but his mind has no such restraints, working overtime. Who are they? Not from the government he works for, that much is sure; he has given his employer no more reason to be angry with him than usual, so this would be out of line. Then who? Either a squad sent to eliminate or kidnap him. How did they get in? That answer is easy enough to find:The security system. He had not reactivated it after letting Stone in, distracted by their confrontation, by the agent leaving. Greatest genius of all time, and he makes a beginner's mistake like that. Only because he let himself be distracted. How disgustingly human of him. He is trembling with suppressed rage over his own stupidity, sharp like glass in his chest.
Of course, even that reaction, those brainless monkeys cannot interpret correctly, immediately showing just how low their IQ really is. "Not so high and mighty now, right, Doctor?" The talker of the two mocks. "Without your toys, you're no better than us."
The second goon next to him gestures slightly with his gun, muttering lowly, "Let's just take him and go."
"Relax. Without the gloves, he can't do anything. I've seen it myself - he needs them for the machines to work."
The more talkative of the two begins to approach. His gun stays trained on the point between Robotnik's eyes. "We get those gloves off you and then you're going to come with us, doc. Quietly. If you manage that, nothing will happen to you. You're in luck; our employers wants your brain for themselves, so you won't even be hurt too much. Keep your eyes on the other hand," he says to his colleague. "If one fingers twitches even a little bit, shoot it off."
Once he reaches the doctor, the man makes sure to step up so close that it becomes suffocating. None too gently, he grabs Robotnik's right wrist and turns it over so sharply that pain radiates up his entire arm. The doctor grinds his teeth together in order not to react to it, but can't help the way he instinctively twitches to get away. Not that it helps, anyway; the first glove is pulled off and thrown aside with no care for the sensitive tech inside. Robotnik has half a mind to snap at the fool for treating his creation like that, but since even speaking is prohibited and there is still at least one gun being pointed at him, he cannot even tear into that imbecile verbally. He is stuck glowering at him in the futile hope of being able to set flame to him with only his gaze. It proves frustratingly ineffective.
His left wrist is grabbed, this time so tightly Robotnik can feel the bones grind together. He can't help but bare his teeth, fighting down a pained groan.
The goon is watching him like a hawk while he peels the second glove off his hand and throws it away like the first. "How's it feel, doc? Being the one at someone's mercy for a change." He mocks, baring his teeth in a grin. Both gloves taken now, the man leans in, hands propped up on the armrests left and right of the genius, effectively crowding him in. "Afraid yet?"
"Hey," the second man says from somewhere close to the door, sounding tense. "Hurry up. I don't feel comfortable staying in here for long. This place is creepy."
"Relax already," the man in front of Robotnik snaps over his shoulder. "I told you, he can't do anything. And he works alone. We got all the time in the world for this."
"We're just supposed to grab him and get him out of here. I don't get why you-..."
"Will you shut up already and just let me enjoy this a little?"
Incomprehensible murmuring answers, but the man seems to stay put for the time being.
The leader of the two turns back to Robotnik. He seems to contemplate something for a moment, before slowly raising his gun and holding it right against Robotnik's chin. With his free hand, the goon reaches up and slowly pulls down the mask covering the bottom half of his face. "Say, doc - do you remember me?"
To Robotnik, the face that is revealed when the cloth is peeled back is absolutely non-descriptive and foreign, but it is hard to tell, since the man is too close to really see him all that well.
But his answer is not needed, anyway. The stranger keeps talking, low and harsh, sounding more and more agitated the longer he goes on. "I was assigned to you once, doc. Job as a personal assistant, they said. But for you, I was more like a test subject."
The gun digs under Robotnik's chin, pressing uncomfortably into the softness there while the doctor's head is forced back and upwards, pressured into locking eyes with the snarling man entirely too close. "That little bomb of yours, the sticky one? Remember it? That was me you tested that on. Stuck it right to my hand, and started it."
Robotnik nearly rears back in surprise, only stopped by the cold steel under his chin. He remembers the incident very well, but... no matter how hard he tries, he can't recall the face of the man involved in it. He had never bothered to look closely. The guy had been one of many, many assistants - there and gone again, immediately deleted from his memory because it was a detail he had no need for. It could be the face in front of him, but it could very well be an entirely different one, too. He couldn't possibly say.
"No? You don't remember?" There is anger in that stranger's face now. With his free hand he reaches out and yanks so hard at Robotnik's hair to force his head back that the doctor can't help the short shout being torn from his throat. "Well, doc, I do. I will never forget that one minute. One minute in which I thought I was fighting for my life and losing the battle. Do you at least remember what you did, doc? In that minute? I will tell you. You were laughing. Laughing at my fear. It took me months to come back from that, and once I did, I couldn't even get another job at the agency anymore. Not resilient enough, they said. Not able to work under pressure. As if they have any idea what it is like, working under you. As if anyone could work under a dangerous lunatic like you."
The entire time the man rants and rants, Robotnik's head is being shook by the grip on his hair, causing tears to spring to his eyes at the sharp pain. This time, he refuses to make a sound.
It only seems to aggravate his captor further. "Damn you, you psychopath. I keep hearing it in my head - the beeping, but most of all, you laughing. And you don't even recognize me."
It hurts, it hurts, but the anger, the sheer offense that these braindead monkeys dared to come in here and try to kidnap him, is stronger. Through tearing eyes, Robotnik tries to focus on the other man again - ready to answer something scathing despite the order to keep quiet - when something draws his attention away.
There is movement by the door, behind the second assailant's back, quick and fleeting and silent.
It is hard to tell, but something about the shape in the door seems... familiar.
Something clicks in Robotnik's mind, and he barely stops himself from sucking in a sharp breath. He swallows it down, and forces his gaze back up towards his captor. By sheer luck, the imbecile does not seem to have his brief lapse, too focused on the doctor as he is.
But Robotnik supposes it is better to be safe about this, and he has been quieted for far too long, anyway. Baring his teeth in a grimace which barely counts as a grin, he drawls, "Who were you again? You see, I do not make habit of remembering every low life which stumbles into my lab."
The effect is instant - the man's face goes white, then red with fury, and he lets go of the doctor to instead rear his fist back, readying himself for a punch. "You damn-...!"
He doesn't get further than that before hell breaks loose.
A shot rings out, and the goon by the door lets out a scream, sharp and high with shock and pain. A second shot, and the screaming man goes down, suddenly quiet. The man standing above Robotnik wipes around, raising his gun to point it at the new threat, eyes wild with surprise and shock.
Agent Stone does not miss a single beat, smoothly whirling around, away from the first man he had gunned down, and takes aim at the one still standing instead. His usually calm expression is replaced by one of cold fury while he orders, low but clear, "Step away from the doctor, now."
The man seems taken aback rather than intimidated, and stays exactly where he is, bent half over Robotnik and his chair. He seems unsure who to aim for first, though; his gun keeps swinging back and forth between Stone and Robotnik while he stammers out, "Who-...? He... he was supposed to be alone!"
"Well he is not." Stone snaps, gaze flitting back and forth between the frenzied man's face and his weapon.
"The sources said he fired another assistant. They can't have sent a replacement already..." finally, the guy seems to decide that Stone is the biggest threat at the moment, and aims his weapon at the agent for good. "Who the fuck are you?!"
For just one moment, the man forgets entirely about his captive, and that single moment is all Robotnik really needs.
Logic dictates that he uses the chance to get himself to safety, or, the riskier thing, to make grab for his gloves. He does neither; fueled by pure rage, and an endless loop of how dare they how dare they how dare they, Robotnik does the most foolish thing possible: He launches himself forward and out of his seat, headfirst into the face of his captor. The imbecile's entire focus is on Stone, so he never even sees any danger coming before Robotnik's head makes impact with his jaw with a dull bang.
The man yowls with pain and stumbles back, hand instinctively coming up to cover his jaw.
It is the distraction Stone has just been waiting for. He pulls the trigger.
To Robotnik, it seems like time slows down a little in that moment. In between the shot firing and the impact, Robotnik gets one good look at his would-be-kidnapper's face, frozen in disbelief and hatred.
It is still a stranger's face to the doctor. He still cannot recall ever having worked with him.
Robotnik turns away before the body can fall, not too keen on seeing the resulting mess. He is not squeamish when it comes to blood and death, but that does not mean he has to like it.
Instead, he lets himself focus on Stone.
Stone, who shouldn't even be here.
It is a sight to behold, how fast all of the cold, focused fury melts from Stone's face once the threat is contained. One second, he is a man full of murderous rage, and the next, he is the calm assistant Robotnik has come to know. He looks positively frantic when he dives over to the Doctor's side, eyes wide and so clearly openly worried. "Sir! Are you hurt?"
Robotnik opens his mouth to snap at him that yes, obviously, you imbecile, butfinds that words won't cooperate. What leaves his lips instead of the well-deserved rebuke, is an entirely too breathless "Agent?"
Great. Apparently, being the smartest man history had ever known did not mean that he was immune to some kind of shock reaction after a stressful event. Even his hands are trembling now that he looks at them. When did that happen?
"I'm here, sir," Stone answers readily, as if Robotnik could possibly miss it; the agent is right in front of him, after all. He reaches out, then stops himself, hands hovering over the doctor. "Sir, is it alright if I check for injuries? I will be quick about it."
Everything still feels far away and wrong, and his body does not want to cooperate at all with him, so all Robotnik can really do, to his great annoyance, is manage a jerky nod.
At least Stone seems to know what he is doing. His hands are gentle yet sure when he tilts the doctor's head slightly left and right, apparently looking for any kind of wound. Like this, Stone is standing over Robotnik in much the same way as the assailant had been earlier, yet this time, the genius does not feel crowded in. The discomfort he equates to being close to and being touched by a living being never comes. Instead, he even bends his head forward when Stone's fingertips press lightly against the nape of his neck, searching for further injuries, even though it puts him in a vulnerable position.
It still feels so surreal. Stone shouldn't even be here. His racing mind keeps coming back to that fact like a broken record.
"What are you doing here?" Robotnik asks the ground to his feet, the question finally knocked loose from his tongue.
"I knew something was wrong when the security scan and alarm at the entrance did not start up when I tried to come in," Stone sounds distracted, still checking him over with precise moves and as little touching as necessary. "You didn't authorize me again yet, right? So I knew I had to come and check on you."
Correct - he hadn't authorized Stone, convinced that the agent would not return, anyway. That was not what Robotnik had meant at all though. Had he not been... ugh... shaken still, he would have snapped at the man for wasting his time by making him clarify his question. "Did I not dismiss you, Agent?"
"You did," Stone agrees readily. "You dismissed me, but did not specify for how long. So I decided you meant for the day. I clocked in shortly after midnight, so that's the next day."
Seemingly deciding that there are no head wounds to be found, Stone steps back and kneels down, reaching out to carefully take the doctor's forearm in both hands, checking his already bruising wrist. While he does, he sends Robotnik a crooked smile. "I was hoping I could talk to you again, maybe a little calmer this time."
So he had simply decided to ignore the heavily implied You're fired and instead had come back. Part of Robotnik's ever paranoid mind wants to insists Stone's return cannot mean anything good, but the much larger part knocks that tiny voice away, because damn it, Stone had come back and saved- ... protected him, endangering himself in the process. He can't think of anyone else who would have bothered. On the contrary: He can think of a lot of people who would have thought he deserved the treatment he got.
Apparently unaware of the many thoughts running rampage in the genius' mind, Stone finished his careful inspection with a light scowl. "You seem unharmed, apart from your wrists and the possible head injury." Standing back up, Stone glances between the doctor and the fallen would-be-kidnappers, expression growing thunderous momentarily before he sighs quietly. "I really wish you hadn't done that, sir, these... imbeciles were not worth for you injure yourself."
That's my word, flashes through Robotnik's mind, a completely inane and pointless observation. And yet, the sound of the insult Stone had quite clearly borrowed from his repertoire is, strangely, amusing enough that it draws a single huff of laughter from him. It also finally snaps him out of whatever state of shock his body had decided to fall into. He carefully tests the range of arms and hands - his wrists ache, but luckily he can still use them - before he carefully gets back up.
When he does, his gaze falls on the second assailant; the one Stone had first taken care of. While he is still watching, the man's fingers twitch lightly. Involuntary, the doctor's eyebrows rise. "You didn't kill that one."
He half forms is as a question and Stone picks up on it, explaining immediately. "Questioning them on their goal and their employer seemed like the logical course of action."
Fair enough. Robotnik raises his hand, ready to call upon the Badniks to subdue the survivor - when he remembers his missing gloves. Well. Maybe he is not fully over the shock, yet, he thinks with a glare at his very much naked hand.
"Here, sir," Stone appears next to him once more, holding out the gloves to him.
Somehow, that is the moment when it finally clicks. The moment when Stone readily hands over the key to most of his creations, the very same key his enemies had immediately tried to take from him, is the moment that the puzzle that is Agent Stone solves itself in front of Robotnik's eyes.
And in the same heartbeat, Robotnik realizes that he had been his own worst enemy on this, paranoia and reservations blinding him to the simplest of truths. There was no trick to this, no hidden angle or secret agenda. It was the simplest of things, and in his belief that there had to be more to it, Robotnik had complicated and twisted it until he could not see the truth anymore:
The fact that Agent Stone had been entirely honest with him from start to finish.
"I like working for you."
Despite everything that this night had held, Robotnik finds a grin spread over his face, wild and euphoric.
With a flourish, he takes the gloves from Stone and slips them on, happily wiggling his fingers a few times before beginning to snap and click again.
Immediately, the lab around him begins to come to life. Badniks start to boot up, holoscreens flash brightly, and one of his playlists starts up much quieter than usual. Everything, including himself, is back and working like a well-oiled machine. It settles the last of the tremor in his limbs, satisfaction flooding through him like a sip of a good hot coffee. Much better.
His gaze finds the unconscious man on the ground once more, disdain cursing through him. A snap, and several of the Badniks swarm over, launching themselves onto the man none too gently and start tying and gagging him securely. Another click, and a second group of drones start taking care of the mess left behind by the lifeless body of the other assailant.
Would-be-kidnappers dealt with for the moment, Robotnik cracks his neck, thinking quickly about his next steps and what his current priorities are. An easy decision to make, to be honest.
"Agent!"
"Sir?" Stone jumps to attention as readily as any of the doctor's creations, much to the genius 'delight.
"Before we start the interrogation of this - low life," a scathing look towards the mentioned scum, "I could use one of your lattes. Once I got that, we will talk about your future paychecks - because I will be paying you less than the agency, but if you want to work for me, you will accept that. Funding is limited after all. Is that clear, Stone?"
Out of the corner of his eyes, he catches the way Stone actually stumbles over his own feet, his ever-collected facade crumpling like a house of cards while he openly gapes at the doctor. Finally caught him off guard, Robotnik thinks gleefully, barely biting back a smirk. Doesn't matter if it's the unconventional way he just hired him for good, or if the sound of his name on the doctor's lips is what does it, this time, the doctor took him by surprise.
It doesn't last long, however. In mere seconds, Stone straightens again, attempting an air of professionality. The radiant smile on his face does not quite match, but he doesn't seem to care. "Is, ah, the payment still negotiable, sir?"
"Getting greedy now?" Squinting at the beaming agent, Robotnik has a hard time keeping a serious face himself. To cover it up, he twirls his moustache, pretending a sigh. "Latte first. And hurry up, before I decide you will work for free."
Even ducking his head, Stone is unable to hide the way the derisive tone makes him only grin wider. At least he keeps it to himself, leaving the lab without any more smart comments.
Left with little to do but wait, Robotnik meanders over to the unconscious man on the ground. The Badniks had done a wonderful job, wrapping him so tightly in cables that he could only wriggle like a worm at most. On closer inspection, Robotnik notes the guy's eyelashes are fluttering a little. Perfect. This would be so much better with him awake.
Smirking in anticipation, the doctor helps the process along by kicking the imbecile in the side, delighting in the muffled cry of pain it earns him. Bending over his captive, he croons, "Wakey wakey!"
It is a delight to watch the way the imbecile starts to panic when he recognizes him, and it gets even funnier when he immediately starts to struggle only to notice that he is bound tight. His eyes nearly bulge out of the numbskulls' head and he loses color so fast, he basically goes transparent.
"Not as funny, being the captive, hm?" Robotnik muses aloud. "Well, I can't say the same thing for the other end of the equation. I'm very much enjoying this."
More wriggling, and some muffled noises come from the trembling heap of human. Robotnik sneers at the pathetic display of it before he smirks, leaning in close again. "So, there is two options. One: You can tell me, loud and clear, all about who sent you, and why. Or, two..." a snap of his fingers, and the Badniks floating peacefully behind him whirred dangerously, eyes starting to glow bright red, " ...we help you along to reach the same result."
Instantly, the man starts trashing around even more, wriggling so wildly he almost lifts off the ground while he shouts a constant stream of incomprehensible nonsense into the gags.
"What?" Robotnik makes a show of putting a hand behind his ear, faking confusion. "What was that? I said loud and clear, you know. Ah, well. I will just assume that you have chosen option two. Have fun."
Something that sounds vaguely like a sob emits from behind the gag when the doctor turns away, losing interest quickly, and the Badniks begin to close in on him.
The door hisses open quietly. Stone reenters, still smiling to himself. He crosses the room without even a single glance at the struggle and noise over in the corner. "Your latte, sir."
"Finally." Robotnik waves Stone closer, accepting the cup the agent offers him. A careful sip of the hot beverage and - ah, yes. That is the kind of relaxation he had been chasing all day. He takes another large sip, considering Stone with a raised eyebrow. "I hope you're aware your lattes are the main reason why I hire you, Stone."
"Of course, sir," Stone answers, eyes sparkling. "I did consider that a certain job security."
"Smartass," Robotnik snaps without heat. "And drop the sir already. You being a sycophant is acceptable, but hearing that military slang all day is more than I can stand for a longer period of time."
"Alright, doctor."
Hm, well. That could work, Robotnik supposes.
Another glance at Stone, who is smiling pleasantly at him despite the events and despite the continued mess in the background, and he is sure of it.
This would work out just perfectly.