Opening The Tomb
A rockface. What would have been the entrance to a labyrinthine network of tunnels beneath the Emerald Hill Zone. Nature had at last got the upper hand over the rusted metal supports that would once have bordered a stout sliding door mechanism, leaving a tumbled wall of rock and debris, ton upon ton of it, sealing any way in or out of the place. At least, for those without the will, or sheer muscle, to force their way into the gloom that lay beyond.
From the other side of the wall, muffled by pillows of granite and basalt, came the stifled but unmistakeable roar of a certain wild echidna. Then, a heartbeat later, light was shining like a sword through a sudden breach in the rock, erupting into being in a fountain of dust and powder. A gloved fist, crowned with a fearsome duo of pointed spikes, withdrew itself from the hole it had made, allowing a narrowed, cautious purple iris to peer through.
"Should be easy enough to shift the rest of it…" came the gruff drawl from the world outside. It was followed by a higher, slightly more nervous response.
"You're the expert Knuckles. Fire away."
"I was waitin' for you to say that…."
With another guttural cry a boulder the size of a car was violently smashed aside. In a flurry of falling debris and brisk swipes from the crimson silhouette outside, the obstruction was unceremoniously cast aside, years worth of unmoveable rockfall evicted in a few furious seconds.
As the dust settled, with the darkness crawling out of the earth through this new entrance, Knuckles stood astride his handiwork with a self-admiring smile, massaging each fist in turn.
"She's all yours Porker. Now what happens?"
Porker himself, clad in his usual white-t-shirt and torn jeans, swept the beam of a torch briefly into the yawning vault ahead of him, and swallowed. He had convinced himself that his adventuring days had been left behind along with his Freedom Fighters membership, and plunging headfirst into what could potentially be a nest of dormant badniks or other instruments of death hadn't been his idea of an excavation, but his intellect screamed at him not to be such a fool. Spelunking couldn't be this dangerous, even if the cave in question was once a madman's property. He cast a glance at Knuckles, trying but largely failing to put on a confident, haughty look to match Sonic.
"Ready when you are, Red."
Knuckles groaned. He could bear Porker enough when he was nervous and neurotic, even when he was spouting techno-babble to make Kintobor blush, but trying to imitate glory-hogs like Sonic just didn't gel. With a brisk shake of the head, he stepped inside, moving ahead of his friend.
"Come on then, let's wrap this up fast. I don't want to stay in this dirt-hole a second longer than I have to."
Aside from the crunch of gravel and anonymous unfortunate insects under their feet, the cave held its breath. No visitor had tread these ghostly halls since a certain well-known, much hated dictator had lorded it over this sinister secret kingdom. Propaganda posters and loyalty slogans, filling the gaps between countless bolts and egg-shaped logos, shot feelings of deep rage into the pit of Knuckles' bowels. Had the perpetrator of the innumerable crimes associated with this place appeared before him, Knuckles would be ready to vent his murderous frustrations. Especially after all that had happened with the Death Egg, the Metallix Brotherhood, Brutus, the Chaos Monster… all his doing. It would be messy, Knuckles thought hotly as 'ALL HAIL ROBOTNIK' leered out at him in peeling red paint. There would be blood and teeth everywhere, not a single bone unbroken….
Violent, yes, but that was him. Forever to-the-point. And if the Doctor himself could not be present, Knuckles could at least show his appreciation by wrecking one of his bases.
By now, Porker had taken the lead, giving his full attention to every scrap of metal and wire that came under the beam of his torch. Knuckles spared a brief snort of laughter.
"What exactly are you expecting to find down here anyway? A new doomsday device for your car or something?"
Porker shrugged the remark aside.
"You're as bad as Sonic. Why does nobody take me seriously when I say some of the things here could be genuinely useful?"
"Could have something to do with what every sensible Mobian associates with the word 'Robotnik'," Knuckles growled, "including those who didn't wind up in the badnik-processing plants."
"Has it never occurred to anybody that parts from those processing plants could be used in the medical profession? Artificial organs, you know? Replacement bones, restructuring cancerous tissue, maybe even help the disabled to walk again!"
"Yeah, well, good luck with that one. I personally don't see what's wrong with the conventional methods of living longer, they've served me well enough!"
"And those would be?"
"Lots of sleep, fresh air, exercise, plenty of roughage, and never turn your back on a psychotic robot or hideous mutant freak, unless you really want to see what your head would look like without the rest of you."
Knuckles finished this lecture with a short shrug.
"All valid advice for living a healthy life." He emphasised. Porker shrugged back in response.
"Can't argue with that."
At this stage, the catacomb around the pair began to widen and branch out. The ceiling overhead soared away into a high, almost invisible dome, fringed with stalactites, while the walls suddenly opened wide like the innards of a clam, folding their dark embrace over what lay within. The dark heart of Robotnik's Emerald Hill Operations, various mechanical terrors festering therein, awaited the heroes. Knuckles visibly snarled and clenched a single fist.
"Take what you like Porker. Just steer clear of anything that looks like it might blow your head off."
"Fat chance," Porker snorted as he sifted through the crumbling pile of metallic plates that had once been a Mk III Motobug, "most of this stuff is prehistoric. Even I wouldn't have much trouble with some of these customers. Hardly seems worth coming really…." He added sadly. Knuckles shook his head briskly.
"I had a hunch this would happen. Did you really think a cave full of past-it badniks and weapons of mass destruction that were most probably steam-powered would be of any use?"
"We can but hope Knuckles. Take a look around, you might be able to find something."
"Good idea, I guess," Knuckles snorted, "my night-vision is better than yours, even with that torch."
"How'd you figure that out?"
Knuckles leered at him out of the dark, showing a set of gleaming, pearl-like teeth sharpened to a fine point.
"Because I was in a perfect position to break your neck just now, and you haven't done a thing about it…."
Porker squealed and spun violently where he stood, eyes swollen with fright, to see Knuckles standing at ease behind him, one arm raised as if in preparation for a karate-chop. Knuckles chortled again and lowered his arm, seeing Porker seethe with silent fury next to him.
"Relax Porker, I'm only fooling with you. The only thing that's likely to do you any damage round here is a rockfall…."
"Just look for something!" Porker snapped, showing rare gall in front of his peers, "And let me check this equipment!"
"Sheesh, I thought I had temper issues…."
Knuckles sighed and retired to a moulding corner of the cave to rifle through the innards of a broken trooper, while Porker returned to his work. Porker had to admit, the rascible echidna was starting to prove himself right. For all Porker's optimism, he should still have guessed that this errand was more of an archaeological dig than anything else. All of Robotnik's terrifying machinery had been state-of-the-art in its day, but since then Mobius had made bold strides in its freedom. With restrictions of scientific research no longer present, quantum leaps had come what seemed like every other day in medicine, transport and computing. Mobius had no use for the playthings of an insane despot any longer, Porker thought, as he gazed sadly at the severed, eyeless skull of an Aquatic Ruins model Grounder. Its drill-tipped beak, blunted by months of neglect, and its skin coated in a cracked shell of rust, mocked him from where it lay. It sent deeper feelings of loss skittering into Porker's stomach now than when it had been fully functional, bristling with weapons and a relentless urge to rip his body to bloody fragments. At least back then it would have been worth something. Now it was just junk.
As Porker worked his way along the rotting carcasses of Robotnik's machinery, the beam of his torch glanced suddenly off a brief metallic tint, a shine unscathed by the rust that seemed to have claimed everything else. Intrigued, Porker moved closer, the beams of light creeping gradually up the gargantuan body of a hulking brute of a machine. Porker stood transfixed to the spot, in awe of this forgotten creature. Even by the standards of Robotnik's powerful SBS Troopers, it was a giant, well over eight feet tall, studded with wires and steel cord bulging like well-toned muscles beneath a golden-coloured framework. Hydraulic pumps and electric wires coiled and twined around each other visibly in the still-open panels of the machine's spine, and its feet and hands were finished with stout, black plates of solid iron, like gloves and boots, that gave this armoured being the appearance of a warrior. It had clearly been meant as an enemy for Sonic and the other Freedom Fighters, or Robotnik would not have bothered to equip the monster with racks of unused weaponry, including what Porker realized as 'Vulcan' grade heavy energy pulse-launchers lining the knuckles of the robot's clenched fists. But for all its menace, Porker was still darkly fascinated by the machine. It had stood by itself against the foetor that had brought down the rest of Robitnik's creations, seemingly possessed of a will to survive that its peers had long since forgotten. Perhaps here, entombed among the forgotten chamber of horrors under the Emerald Hill Zone, was the paradigm technological shift he had been hoping for. With Robotnik gone, after all, there was nothing to stop him tending to the machine himself, finding some other use for it. This was altogether too good an opportunity to waste.
Poised low against the mammoth body of the android, Porker held his torch delicately in one hand, like a dentist's drill, and began scanning the robot's flawless skin with surgical precision for anything that may betray some means of identifying the machine. He wanted to know as much as possible about this being before he disturbed it; even he, with his comparatively slight strength, could easily have wrenched off the rusted iron bolts that held the machine in place, but he didn't want to risk damaging his find. Perhaps there was an easier way to loosen it? He certainly didn't want to turn to Knuckles brute force for help. After his earlier outburst it would just be embarrassing. As Porker continued in his work, Knuckles himself was still half-heartedly digging through piles of shattered CDs, looking for one that might still be intact. For all the good it'll do, he thought to himself.
"Porker, this is a waste of time. Even by Floating Island standards, this stuff is just so low-tech! I suppose you might be able to find some replacement parts for that boiler under the sleeping quarters, but other than that…."
A low, gravely but undoubtedly angry hum. A steady pulse of green light. A hiss of power returning to freshly awakened limbs.
Porker froze, crouched against the robot's hip, where he had passed his hand absently over a seemingly innocent continuation of armour. From the way it was now gradually brightening with an emerald glow, and from the way he could now sense a fresh current pouring through the robot's chest….
Porker had no more time to think. Before he could even yell, fingers like bars of steel had closed around his throat. With a whirr of metallic muscle, Porker saw an arm as thick as a bridge girder, covered in golden plates, hoist him off his feet like a toy, kicking and struggling feebly as the world swam before his eyes. Panicking and gasping for breath as his lungs began to burn for oxygen, Porker felt his face forcefully incline itself to gaze into the horrifying visage of his attacker. The head of the robot, which had been slumped drowsily over its chest until now, was very much active, steam curling from between the stout square of its jaws and teeth. Two gigantic eyes, dull before now, blazed with a furious red light, wavering and pulsing menacingly in the gloom. Porker saw the machine draw close to him, press its cold stare right into his face, imprinting itself into his dying nightmares. Then, in a low, hoarse voice, it muttered,
"Pathetic."
Everything happened at once. Porker was suddenly released, air rushing back into his grateful lungs, but now he was flying backwards, thrown by a force that could shake mountains, sailing into oblivion against the opposite wall. Porker closed his eyes, held what was left of his breath, waited for the back-breaking shock…
It came. But when it did, it came from another body. Knuckles, throwing himself into Porker head-on from behind, tackled his friend to the ground and rolled gracefully to a trained stop. As the dizziness rattled from skull wall to skull wall, Porker knew that Knuckles had broken his fall, come between him and death against the cavern rock. Knuckles inclined a dust-streaked head to his partner and managed a grim cough. Porker nodded breathlessly.
"Thanks…"
"Anytime."
From the other end of the cavern, a groan of straining iron drew the echidna's gaze. From out of the darkness, caught in the sudden ghastly illumination of a pair of bloody lamps, iron bonds strained, and then burst against the strength of their prisoner, thrown aside like scraps in a tornado. One pair of thunderous footsteps later and the robot had stepped forth, crushing its lesser brethren under its enormous tread, clenching and unclenching each fist in turn as if limbering up for a mighty brawl. As the red glow in the creature's eyes subsided to an icy blue, more gouts of steam blasted from its hollow jaws, now jerkily forming into a mad grin. It was a grin that spoke of another time, when the sky of Mobius was black with smoke, and its land wet with desperate tears. It was the grin of Robotnik, reincarnated in this hideous servant. The creature lifted its head, craned its stout neck, and bellowed with enough force to shake some loose debris from the cavern roof.
"I… live!"
Knuckles narrowed both eyes to razor thin slits, stance sliding gracefully into readiness for combat.
"Not for long."
With a snarl of pure hatred, Knuckles curled both fists into rock-crushing weapons and launched himself at the robot. Even the dark didn't mask the fire in his eyes now, or wash the riotous roar from his throat. First he had brooded. Now he would fight.
