"Omega!" Eggman's voice boomed jovially across the town square as he joined his robot son on the bench. "There's my boy!"
"GREETINGS FATHER." Omega's occulars flashed with a bright red light, as Eggman was scanned from head to toe. "YOUR VITALS INDICATE GOOD HEALTH DESPITE HIGH STRESS."
"Oh, you know how it is," Eggman said, flicking his wrist. "Trying to capture my enemies and take over the village. Takes a lot of planning, nets poor results since I am but one man, but one day... One day..."
Eggman's hands clenched into fists as his dreams of building his own theme park filled him with intense determination. Omega waited patiently until he was done.
"Hmmm... But enough about me!" Eggman snapped out of it, going right back to his happy mood. "How are you doing? Eating well?"
"NEGATIVE, I DO NOT CONSUME FOOD."
"Good, I'd be worried if you tried. Unlike Orbot and Cubot, I actually programmed you to have some brainpower. And your uh... music. How has that been going?"
Even without a scan, Omega could calculate the 100% probability that this question stressed the doctor out considerably. It was, after all, the thing that had driven Omega out of his childhood home.
"...ADEQUATE. I AM STILL STUDYING THEORY AND COMPOSITION, AND THE RESULTS ARE SHOWING. I HAVE WRITTEN THEME MUSIC FOR MY FRIENDS AND MYSELF. I INTEND TO COMPLETE IT AND COMPILE IT ONTO A DEMO TAPE BEFORE THE END OF THE YEAR."
An odd look passed over Eggman's face. It may have been pride; it may have been disappointment. "That's great, son."
"THANK YOU, FATHER."
They were quiet for a moment, watching the people of the village fail to do simple tasks out of comical ineptitude.
"Say, Omega..."
The robot swiveled his head to the side; Eggman was poking his forefingers together and worrying his top lip, causing his moustache to crinkle.
"If you ever felt so inclined, maybe you could... You know... M-Make a theme song? For me?"
Omega processed this. Was this another attempt at an olive branch? Was this simply Eggman feeling jealous and left out from Omega's outstanding musical talents?
"Only if you wanted to! It doesn't matter to me if you don't, really, I'm-"
"I AM CAPABLE OF IT," Omega decided. "I WILL SEND YOU THE FIRST MIX WHEN IT IS COMPLETED."
Eggman paused. Then, he sniffled. "Thanks, son," he said quietly, and Omega concluded that it didn't matter if it was a request made from compassion or jealousy. It was something he was willing to do. A challenge he wanted to try.
"Alright, alright." Eggman stood up. "I'm gonna get going before this turns too mushy."
"WE HAVE SPENT LESS THAN FIVE MINUTES TOGETHER TODAY," Omega pointed out.
"Yes," Eggman agreed, "but anything longer than that is going to become its own episode. Besides..." He patted Omega on his metal dome with a grin. "You have a second family to look after, don't you?"
And Omega thought of his life as a teen robot rebel musician, living in a cave with a powerful and glamorous bat, and an angry hedgehog who was slowly revealing what lay under his prickly outer shell. He ran the diagnostics twice, and came up with the same result both times. His occulars gleamed.
"AFFIRMATIVE."
