ROBERT
They were upset, and that was completely understandable, given the circumstances.
Robert slumped in the heavy wooden chair, playing idly with the soldering gun. He was disappointed with their lack of cooperation, and hoped it wouldn't take long to earn their trust. He wished there was something he could do to speed all of this up. He was capable of delicate work, but not when it applied to other people.
Time wasn't a luxury they could afford, but he couldn't force them to understand. They'd have to do it on their own.
He stood to his feet and paced. What could he do to think, now that working was no longer enough. He could venture outside with the gun and visit the forges again, the entrances to the underground, the ruins in the west sector, the SWATbot factories, the outskirts of the Great Forest. Return hours later and work on the microchip.
There was nothing else to do.
He wondered if he'd go insane, if he already was. Aimless wandering was not a road sign for mental health. That was the problem. He didn't know how long he could wait before he starved to death. Or before he was captured and thrown in with the rest of them. Or before he went stark-raving bonkers and couldn't help them anyway.
Get a gun.
Get. a. gun.
He wouldn't trust himself in their situation either.
Robert paced a little longer, then sat down and continued working.
"Then again, he could have meant any kind of weapon, not necessarily a gun. Perhaps I should have asked him to specify. What do you think? I think I should have. Too late now, I suppose. Although… how long do you think it would take me to run back and ask him? An hour? What if I ran? … Eh… forget it."
He watched another SWATbot march past his position. He didn't bother to duck.
"How does he expect me to get a gun, anyway? It's ridiculous. You know how ridiculous that is?"
The clomping of boots on loose dirt and metal faded into the distance as the SWATbot headed into the nearby factory.
"No, there's no chance in hell of him getting mine, NICOLE. No chance. He doesn't know I have it and that's the way it's going to stay. It wouldn't do him much good. I don't know how many bullets I have left in this thing."
The next patrol guard turned a corner in the scrap and made its way to the entrance, about ready to cross Robert's position.
"I have my own shit to worry about. I could be inside right now, safe. I could be in the forest. I…" Robert scratched the side of his head, feeling an unfamiliar jolt. "I'm nobody's errand boy."
He clicked on the electric saw and swung at the base of the bot's skull, severing the main chords, and the SWATbot went down with barely a word. He used the momentum of its fall to pull it out of sight. He went to work, twisting the bot's head off of its shoulders and hollowing out the inside with the drill.
"They better trust me after this." Working on removing the chest plates, he wondered idly why he brought NICOLE along in the first place. She was turning into a liability, and worried that she might betray him any day. He was amazed that he had gotten this far with her, always at his side. Every mission.
The boots were the hard part. He ended up having to cut them entirely in half, then weld them back together after they had been hollowed out. He kept looking over his shoulder, feeling like he was being watched.
When the task was finished, he worked himself into the costume, standing to his feet after slamming one foot, then the other, into the sharp boots. The waist and chest plates snapped into place with ease. The arms were a bit more difficult, especially after he had one arm into the gun cavity. He made it work eventually. Kicking the SWATbot viscera out of the way, he put the helmet on last, struggling to get it on straight.
Finished, he stood in front of NICOLE, hands on his hips, posing. "How do I look?"
"TOO SHORT."
"Like they'll know the difference," he said as he gathered his tools. He put NICOLE into his duffle bag and zipped it closed. "Hibernate until I need you."
Slinging the bag over his shoulder, he made his way into the factory. He heard the sounds of gears clicking into each other, muffled through the helmet. The smell of oil. Immediately as he entered, a squad of patrol bots to his far left spotted him, watching him walk towards the back. Robert kept up his nonchalant pace.
"Keep cool, keep cool, don't panic until you hear the blaster fire." It was hard to walk in the SWAT suit, and the overpowering smell of the oil had an odd effect on him. He was having trouble staying with the moment, feeling his mind drift somewhere far away. He kept himself steady by remembering that all they needed was one excuse, one sign of organic behavior, and they would cut him down.
Near the center of the building, he spotted what he was looking for: a metal staircase spiraling up to the top level. He quickened his pace, taking the steps two at a time while holding the duffle bag against his back. Behind him he heard the faint clicking of the SWATbots trying to send him transmissions. They were suspicious.
"Already. Damn…"
He ascended as far as he could go, conquering each step mechanically, one at a time. Robert squinted his eyes, trying to see through the red visor. He had no peripheral vision.
The ceiling of the main SWATbot factory ended after the fifth story. The only way to continue was to travel to the very end of the catwalk and ascend the small metal stepladder to the final level. NICOLE had told him that if he destroyed the generator at the top, it would bring down the entire complex.
He was at the top of the catwalk. Robert dropped to one knee and pulled out the bulk of the weight from the duffle bag: thirty feet of thickly wrapped rope. He tied one end of it around a loop in the floor of the walkway, making sure the other end of the rope dropped above a clear area of the bottom floor. He looked down from five stories up, shaking his head, getting dizzy.
Finished, he stood to his feet and re-slung the bag over his shoulder. He smiled. Easy breezy.
The sounds of SWATbots churning out into finished soldiers faded when he entered the sixth story. Dark shadows swallowed him after he had climbed as far as he could go. He brought NICOLE back out and turned her on.
"Scan the area for 'bot-heads, if you please."
NICOLE let loose some ticks and beeps. "ALL CLEAR. YOU'RE ALMOST THERE."
Robert sighed with relief has he removed his helmet, brushing back his thick hair. His eyes adjusted immediately to the darkness. He was surrounded by rows of humming iron bulkheads, valves jutting out at him like gnarled branches on a tree. He dropped the helmet and continued on.
Eventually, he reached the target.
As much as he did know, he didn't understand a lot about the power Robotnik and Snively had managed to harness. The target resembled a large test tube, but it glowed bright blue and vibrated the air around it with such intensity that Robert felt his teeth chattering. The glass casing looked at least five inches thick.
At the base of the target was a small briefcase. A repair kit. It couldn't have looked more out of place if it had been gift wrapped.
"Hmmm…" What an illusionist.
Not wanting to waste time, he walked to the base of the generator and grabbed the case, the handle forming perfectly with the shape of his palm. With his free hand he pulled out his handgun. Stepping back, he aimed it at the center of the tube. He gave the trigger a tug.
The casing took the blast and cracked up the middle. The entry hole, about the size of bolt head, emitted blue fire in wild, acidic arcs. Bulkheads disintegrated left and right. Iron crashed to the floor. Robert tore out of there as fast as he could, holstering the pistol.
Back on the catwalk, the rest of the factory showed no signs of slowing down, not yet. Robert spotted a squad of SWATbots making their way up to his level. His bag strapped firmly to his back, he held on tight to the briefcase and grabbed the rope. He vaulted over the railing and slid three stories down.
They would be waiting for him at the bottom. When the rope ended after the second story, Robert let go and fell the rest of the way. He landed on hard concrete, using his rope burned hand to brace his fall. Four bot-heads raised their arms.
"HALT! INTRUDER!"
"I never get tired of that," he thought as he pulled an EMP grenade out of his bag. He threw it into their fold, ten feet away, and ran. Two plasma rounds were fired after him before the grenade exploded in a flash of white light. Robert barely heard the SWATbots clank against the concrete.
Above him, the factory began showing the first signs of breaking apart, machines whirring helplessly under the strain of their out-of-control generator.
With a quickness that Robert felt might even have surprised Sonic, his legs carried him halfway to the exit as he pulled out grenade after grenade and flung them at anything moving. Flashes of light and more SWATbot reinforcements crumpled to the floor, lifeless.
Near the exit, he reached into the bag and felt his last grenade, the only incendiary grenade he had. He kept it clutched in his palm as he ran, waiting for an opportunity to use it.
Just before the factory fell, Robert made it outside, barreling headlong into the hot, dusty air. He didn't look behind him, but heard the factory collapse in on itself, metal struts buckling under the pressure of its own falling roof. Animated shadows in front of him. His own spit burning in his mouth, his legs pounding painfully against the dirt; he couldn't help but smile.
He didn't stop running until he was back inside of Chuck's. He caught his breath, leaning against the door. He put the incendiary grenade back into his bag and pulled out NICOLE.
"No more EMP grenades," he said after he thumbed her open. "Fine by me. Having those things so close by had me scared shitless, to tell you the truth." He laughed with available breath. Inside the gloom of the house, he noticed that he was still carrying the briefcase.
Robert set the case down on the work table. It was the kind with the number locks, and the latches that flicked up after you moved the buttons side to side. Robert sat down and pressed them away from each other. The latches clicked open, and he slumped in relief.
He lifted the lid, hoping it would be something useful. He couldn't wait to get back to work.