SNIVELY
Since it was always dark in Robotropolis, Snively had to refer to his watch. 6:07pm. Time to call it quits. His lineup of torture victims had proven to be unusually exhausting today, and he was looking quite forward to relaxing in the surveillance room for the remainder of the evening. The anesthesia in the prisoner cell block was programmed to release at 11:00pm every night—in which case, he still had nearly five hours of reality-show entertainment to enjoy on the monitors. Hot damn.
On the way to the surveillance room, he stopped by the kitchen for a spot of decaffeinated herbal tea. Ordinarily he preferred coffee (black, of course), but he was trying to curb his caffeine addiction after experiencing a humiliating episode of withdrawal several weeks ago. Regardless, he only prepared one cup; he'd send Bunnie to fetch a whole pot of it once he had settled in.
The long walk to the surveillance room was a great deal more engaging now, thanks to a new trophy that was added to the main hall about a week ago. It was a marvelous taxidermy of Dulcie Dragon. Teeth bared and claws unsheathed, the beast was eternally frozen: her wings forever outstretched into an impressive, leathery mantle. The pose was meant to look fearsome, although to Snively she looked more constipated than anything.
"And how is our favorite dragon today?" Snively asked, grinning. He took a sip of his tea. "Mmmm. You really should try this, Dulcie. Echinacea and orange spice. Clears the sinuses. And forgive me for being presumptuous, but you do appear a little stuffed."
Upon Snively's entrance into the surveillance room, his new personal assistant rushed to greet him with a wheeled leather chair. "HELLO SNIVELY" said Bunnie Rabbot in a digital monotone. "WOULD YOU LIKE TO SIT?"
Snively collapsed into the chair. "Thank you, my pet. I'm bushed. Those terrible Freedom Fighters will be the end of me. Before long, I'll be afflicted with nervous exhaustion and I'll probably die. Isn't that sad?"
"WOULD YOU LIKE SOME POPCORN?"
"Bunnie, I would adore your popcorn. Thank you. And while you're out, please bring me some more herbal tea."
She wheeled Snively to his desk before leaving the room. Bunnie, as it turned out, was one of the most useful additions to Robotropolis that Snively could remember. She was also one of the most voluptuous creatures to ever emerge from the roboticizer, which didn't hurt either. Thank heavens Snively decided to finish roboticizing her instead of killing and dismantling her as he originally planned.
Several other Freedom Fighters had been roboticized as well: Rotor Walrus, Antoine D'Coolette, and Bookshire Draftwood, to name a few. Unfortunately, after that blasted hedgehog managed to escape, the roboticizer was now in a state of disrepair. The damage was certainly nothing that couldn't be fixed, but it did put them somewhat behind schedule. Snively, of course, was exceedingly careful not to mention any of this to his victims in the torture chamber. Though it was unlikely that Sonic would ever return, given his condition, the mere mention of his flight from Robotropolis would be enough to inspire hope amongst the captive Freedom Fighters. Hope, of course, would destroy everything that had been so painstakingly arranged for this mind game.
Not a moment after Snively switched on the last of the security monitors, Bunnie reemerged with a bowl of popcorn and a neatly balanced tea platter. Sniv kicked his feet up and reclined in his chair, watching the vidscreens as he snacked. One monitor in particular was attracting his interest lately—cell B2, where a young male dingo had been strategically paired with a ravishing feline girl. The idea was to encourage them to mate: an event which would doubtlessly upset the dingo's boyfriend and motivate him to betray his companions. It was a simple strategy, in theory, although Snively was concerned that everything might not fall into place without an outside stimulus. His solution was to leak a pheromone chemical into the cell's air supply, gradually increasing the amount over the duration of their captivity.
He glanced at the control panel beside him. The chemical concentration was regulated by a large, red dial with four settings: Warm, Hot, Wet and Freaky. It had already been on the Hot setting for several days.
Snively grinned mischievously. Why not, he decided. He cranked the dial all the way to Freaky.
Leaning back, he gave a satisfactory sigh and reached into his bowl for another handful. "Bunnie, your popcorn is delicious, as always."
"THANK YOU, SNIVELY. DO YOU REQUIRE ANYTHING ELSE?"
"Yes," he said, "please fondle my genitals. I'm excited to see what happens next."