10.

Funny, Sonic thought. If anyone else had that desk, it might've spent the rest of its life behaving like a perfectly good desk.

For example, Tails would have used it to house blueprints. Or Amy, she might have decorated it with painted rocks and flowers, made it into something pretty. Heck, takeout containers could have calcified on its surface and that still would have been a better use for a desk than Eggman's bright idea, which turned it into a projectile that nearly smashed his rib.

Certainly it wasn't the only thing wrong with this picture, but to his disjointed train of thought it confirmed his suspicions: namely, that Eggman's insanity still had gas in the tank, and he intended to wring every last precious drop of it out on him.

Said desk lay scattered in pieces around him. The carpet bore spots of his blood. Books had crumpled from the shelves, the wallpaper dented from repeated hits—and Eggman blamed Sonic for the damage.

Now see what you did, he'd chide, cracking his knuckles as he flexed his glowing fist, I have to rearrange those titles all over again. Did the drywall crack when you hit it? Hah, liar. You heard it just as well as I did. Don't you know how fragile these windows are? That rattle's nothing to smile about. No need to strain yourself, Your Majesty; I'll simply pop this missing piece back in before the rain invites its nasty friend, mildew.

To hear his endless slew of complaints, you'd have thought Sonic trashed the office for some gleeful stab at revenge, but he was neither smiling nor cracking jokes. In fact, he wasn't doing much of anything except trying to shake the fog drifting into his mind. All that defiance was sheer projection on the doc's part.

In reality his mind had gone blank. He could no longer get up, not without a swimming head and the muscles surrounding his bruised rib cramping bitterly. Everything hurt so bad that all he could do was curl up to shield himself from what was coming next.

Eggman strolled toward the windows. Drizzle coated the tinted panels, lending the glass a cold gleam. An irritated growl escaped his lips as he traced a clear line down the murky surface, rubbing the moisture away between his fingertips.

"How annoying," he said. "Clear skies all month, and now it wants to pour buckets." He pushed a missing piece back into the inlay. "Rain, rain, go away." The childish lilt he placed on his words sounded anything but innocent. "Come again another day."

Sonic shivered on the carpet beside him, burning and chilled at once, and pressed his lips together until they tingled. Salty fluid coated the inside of his cheeks; much deeper down his gut churned acidic juices. His heart quickened at the creeping patter of the doc's footfalls. Not fear, no. He'd fought too hard to fear him.

Fingers wrapped themselves around his upper arm, digging gorges into his flesh. Once more he hobbled onto his feet, propped upright like a toddler being forced to walk.

This time, though, the strength evaporated from his legs. Eggman's haul propelled him a little bit forward before his knees bucked and he lay on the carpet, snatching what breaths he could through the fibers.

"Get up, Sonic. You're going soft."

He complied, but with the strained, listless hesitation of one whose pain casts them in a daze. At this point his body demanded huge efforts just to slide his calf across his throbbing stomach and command his muscles to push himself up, but he managed it without much fanfare. He rose unsteadily.

The grandfather clock punctured the quiet with heavy brass notes. Eggman folded his arms across his chest.

"I take it you're ready to decide?"

Sonic swallowed. "Just… " His gaze followed the trail of wooden shards leading toward the smashed desk where 'negotiations' had begun.

To his credit, he'd started off strong. Started off opening his big mouth to tell the old man exactly where he could shove that so-called 'proposition.' That earned him a hard fist to the jaw and in Eggman's view shut him up quite nicely.

His pride had been beaten out of him, then his anger, until what remained was his fear that if he didn't do as Eggman said, someone else would take his place. He didn't know who—he didn't want to picture anyone in the holographic line-up standing where he now stood. But he also couldn't keep this up forever.

"Don't hurt them."

Eggman gave him that slow grin again, the one that made him feel like his insides would shrivel.

"No guarantees, hedgehog."

The room vanished at the snap of his fingers.