With the emergency meeting concluded and the decision, begrudgingly, made, an unnamed general moved to leave. With any luck, he could make it home and not stress over whether their choice would come back to haunt them, perhaps spend quality time with one of his friends, Jack Danial.
"Sir, if I may be so bold to speak freely."
No such luck, he sighed, "Granted."
"That man is a nutcase!"
The general massaged his temple, "Of that, I am very aware."
"We have agents just as qualified to handle the situation and enough resources to contain it-"
"And they will be utilized. Be that as it may, he is the only one to come closest to understanding the foreign objects in our possession."
The high-ranking officer stepped into a convenient elevator and turned to his underling. The doors began closing, adding further finality to his statement, "Make no mistake, if he steps any further out of line, he shall be detained immediately."
The doctor strode into his lab, customized goggles flashed past each light and confidence in each step. Extravagant, yet small handlebar mustache painstakingly optimized for peak levels of fleek. He carefully stroked it, lovingly.
Dr Julian IVO Robotnik. His co-workers, always whispering behind his back, thought it sounded like a Saturday morning cartoon villain's name or that he had legally changed it. He spotted some now, conversing as he passed, wearing pristine white lab coats identical to his own.
Jealousy and envy are what brought all the negativity about, he had concluded. Not everyone could be gifted with a magnificent intellect such as himself. He confidently stuck his tongue out as their backs were turned.
When he had first been given the position he had been ecstatic, bouncing with glee. All the projects he could accomplish with military-grade resources and funding. Soon his supposed freedom felt caged and once happy mood soured.
His talent was wasted here, he could be engineering mechanical marvels that the masses could praise (and shake in fear of). He had dozens of blueprints and schematics singing out to him to be made, all stuffed and stored in his, relatively, small closet. All of it just ready to burst, just like his caged mind and patience.
A stretched grin cast away his grim features, the doctor could envision it all. Clockwork gears, pistons firing, wires sending specified protocols to each component. All marching (or wheeling) to an unspecified tune of his composer. The many robots all housing an advanced, non-sapient AI, created to follow his every whim.
Yet, all the "big-wigs" ever wanted were rudimentary drones, confined to vehicular sized hulls and remote controlled. He could do better.
Much better.
There was only one measly variable that blocked him from his more sophisticated projects. That halted him from perfecting his craftsmanship. One that kept him up late at night, sacrificing #2 pencils and amassing a mountain of crumpled paper, the poor trees; that ended in him (allegedly) crying himself to sleep while (certainly not) hugging Dr MetalBones.
Power.
All varied power sources on Earth were insufficient for his genius creations. Uranium, too radioactively unstable; batteries, not enough charge; steam engines, too many pipes to clean, not to mention how clunky the end product would be and the veritable wall of smoke that filled the lab. The doctor paused to scratch his chin, he really should have brought that one outside.
For gosh's sake he even tried pedal power, having the grace to join his legion of unpaid interns as they pedaled their hearts out. Although, patting his thinned waistline, he did get a good workout.
Truth be told, part of him had begun to consider giving up. Maybe he had finally hit a scientific dead end that not even he could bypass. Of course, it was due to a lack of useful resources, not his ingenuity failing him. Then, by some miraculous roll of the universal dice, the solution had practically fallen into his lap.
A few button presses, the day he received his fifth PhD, laughably easy, on a keypad and an automated door slid open. The good doctor entered his window-walled office, curtains drawn up, better to see everyone else. At the back of it, past his desk, by the only wall that wasn't glass was a small, specialized display box placed upon filing cabinets. A single, golden ring held by two prongs that siphoned its energy for the box's lights and tracked its output. It was not actually gold, it just looked like it. He, currently, did not know what element(s?) it was made of.
These "rings" held power, far more power than known thermodynamics should allow. They could or would give off a slight glow, yet the energy seemed to perpetuate in spite of the "leak" nor did any scan pick up any harmful radiation. It defied several laws humanity supposedly understood. And it was all his!
...Well this one was at any rate. Most were in some high-security storage, awaiting to ensure they were "safe" or "controllable" or "not going to melt someone's face off by looking at it". Clearly that last one was not the case, his dashing face was still there last he looked at a mirror. If only those small-minded buffoons would just hand them over to him, the key to achieving his dreams, and accept his blueprints.
The SwatBots, the Egg-Pawns, the Egg-Carrier, the Egg-Pod (why so many were egg-based he didn't know, maybe he just wanted breakfast then), the roboticizer!
They called the last one mad, unscrupulous, unobtainable, completely against understood, rationalized physics. Well, no law debatably emplaced by reality itself was going to stop him from achieving his dreams.
It was times like these that he reminisced on a daydream fed further by these past indignations. One that always brought him some measure of comfort and control. Holding a special place in his hollowed heart.
World domination had always been a fantasy of his. No ethics to slow him down, no red tape to impede his progress, no short-sighted, small-minded tools to reject his ideas on the grounds of cost, fear, or discrimination. Just him, his brilliance, and his vision. He doubled over coughing, not having realized he had started laughing, quite loudly, mid-internal rant.
He did not care for the odd glances he was sure to get when he left the room. A soft vibration clued him in to what he was using for support. The golden, otherworldly ring reflected in his eyes, smile returning.
Perhaps his pipe dream could become reality.
This was first conceived before the movie came out, I was messing around with the idea of how the rings would factor into the movie. I had expected them to be more akin to SatAM or Sonic X's power rings rather than portal rings like the old games and Archie comics. I was pleasantly surprised by the latter use and ultimately felt it more flexible and workable for the movie-verse. Although, this is more a character study for Robotnik as well as some thoughts on the rings. I also wanted to add some real-life complications to robotics, say lack of sufficient batteries that are conventionally portable, for the rings to fill.
Cover is from BlueWolfArtista
bluewolfartista/art/TITANIC-MONARCH-Dr-Ivo-Robotnik-Sonic-Movie-810667925