A/N: Might as well not beat around the bush. Let's get right into this.

Pen: Right you are. Dr. Robotnik and all related characters belong to Sega. The story, Sword, and I belong to the author.

Sword: I'm scared, Pen. Hold me.

Pen: No.

Chapter 2- Necessity is the Mother of Invention

When Robotnik had finally broken out of his daze, he had gathered up his belongings and headed home. Once in his house, he put away Gregory and his things. He barely registered his actions and sat down at his dining room table. He buried his head in his arms, staying there all night.

For the next few days, he rarely moved. He fed the animals, but for the most part, he sat around. He did not know what to do. He had failed utterly and completely. By the time he had a visitor after a few days, the garbage had piled up, the dirty dishes were stacked high, and he smelled putrid. The door was unlocked, so his visitor strolled in. Robotnik did not wave to them or acknowledge their presence.

"Ivo?" Clarissa asked, squatting beside him. "Ivo? What happened?"

"I was fired," he mumbled.

"Fired? Why?"

He shook his head. He did not want to discuss it. All he wanted to do was stew in his misery.

But she would have none of it. She straightened him up and forced him to eat some canned food. He had nibbled tiny bits of food over the days, but nothing substantial. He had been wasting away. She washed some of his dishes and took out the trash while he ate.

When she came back, he had finished and pushed the plate away. "Now, what happened?" she asked.

With a heavy sigh, he told her about his demonstration and Tindell's reaction. After he finished, she patted his hand. "Ivo, it'll be alright. Something will come up."

"No, you don't understand," Robotnik said. "No company will touch me. I've already been blacklisted and the one place that would take me has kicked me to the curb. There's no other job I could get now that will help me afford all this." He waved a careless arm at the animals in the back room.

"What about your invention? The Ball-Mobile?" Clarissa asked. "Sell it to another company."

That was not a bad idea. Why had he not thought of that? Maybe he could earn a small royalty on his invention that would supplement an income from another job. It was certainly worth a try. Now where did I put it? he wondered. He stood up, ready to search. Then he recalled that he had dropped it in the parking garage.

He slumped back down into his chair. "I don't have it anymore," he said. "I dropped it when I tried to pull Gregory off Mr. Tindell. By now, someone probably ran over it or threw it away. I certainly can't go back there."

"Maybe I can," Clarissa said. She left him alone, running out the door. Robotnik sat at the table, biding his time until she returned. A few hours later, she came back empty-handed. "I combed the place, but I didn't see it."

Robotnik buried his face in his hands. She touched his shoulder. "Don't worry. I'm sure something will come up."

His mail slot opened and several letters were shoved in. Slowly, Robotnik gathered up the letters. They were all bills, all demanding immediate payment. The one that stuck out the most was his rent. The landlord threatened him with eviction.

He scowled at the letters and ripped them to pieces. He hurled the shredded letters into the trash and seethed. He was tired of being in debt, tired of his genius being cast aside, tired of nothing working out. There had to be some way to pay his bills, but he did not know of any way.

Clarissa grew more concerned for him, but he settled down. He assured her that he was fine and that she should be going. "Just because I don't have a job doesn't mean you should skip out on yours," he said. He guided her to the door and opened it.

She frowned. "Promise you'll call if you need any help, okay?"

"I'll be fine," he said. "Thanks for the offer."

Once she left, he sat down at his computer. For hours, Robotnik searched for job openings online. There were several promising positions, but none that paid nearly enough. He might have to get rid of some of the animals to make ends meet. But when night fell and he was feeding the animals their dinner, he knew he did not have the heart to abandon any of them. Nobody would want a broken animal that needed the amount of care they did. These creatures needed his help. They and many other animals needed him to heal them.

His eyes turned to Gregory. He pursed his lips and kneeled down to the hedgehog. "You," he said lowly. "You. If you had just stayed calm, everything would have been alright!" He raised his voice, scaring some of the other creatures. Gregory curled into a ball, deploying his sharp quills.

Robotnik raised his fist. "Why couldn't you just follow my orders? You've doomed us all, you accursed hedgehog!" He gritted his teeth. Yet he stopped. It was not Gregory's fault. He knew that. It was his own. Robotnik rubbed his tired eyes. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to take it out on you." He tentatively reached out and brushed the hedgehog's quills.

Gregory uncurled and sniffed Robotnik's fingers. "I'm just afraid. I don't know what will happen or what I should do. I blew my last chance." He scooped Gregory up. "There has to be some way to fix this for now."

The rent was the first of his bills that was due. He might be able to scrounge together the money for the other bills, but the rent was impossible. Applying for welfare was laughable. Any check they gave would never cover all his expenses. Pleading his case before the landlord would not work. The man was a stickler for owed amounts to be paid on time. Robotnik knew that he himself was neither intimidating nor persuasive enough to change the landlord's mind.

He looked down at Gregory. The hedgehog was trying to right himself. But without the Ball-Mobile, it was extremely difficult for him to do anything. Robotnik wished the hedgehog had it.

Then he had an idea. An idea that slowly formed into a plan the longer he watched Gregory. "I can't be intimidating on my own," he said slowly, setting Gregory back into his cage. "But maybe I just need a little help."

He cleared off a space in the room and laid out a piece of paper. Then he drew a design of the Ball-Mobile, but added legs instead of a wheel. He considered briefly planning for one of his animals to control the machine with him guiding them somehow. However, he knew he could not put them in that kind of danger.

"I'll have to do it myself," he murmured. That would require a complete overhaul of the original idea to fit himself. He had never constructed anything quite on this scale or magnitude. But as he surveyed the finished drawing, he believed he could do it. The machine's scale stood at three times the height of a man now.

Robotnik wanted to create hands for the arms. But when he checked his supplies, he found did not have enough materials for that. To be honest, his materials would barely cover the necessary outline of the machine.

"No use waiting until morning," Robotnik said, rolling up his sleeves. He needed to build the machine as soon as possible. He grabbed his tools, slipped on his gloves, and snapped a pair of grey goggles to his head. "Let's get to work."

It was a week later during a quiet evening that Robotnik emerged from his house. Nobody has seen hide or hair of him all week. The only one concerned was Clarissa. She had tried to visit a couple of times. He had sent her away, saying he was fine, but incredibly busy.

He had finished his machine and moved it outside. He climbed unsteadily into it. Robotnik checked the arms and legs' movements. They handled well enough. There was no time for an official test run. The rent was due tomorrow, so he had to hurry.

He had considered buying some sort of disguise. Yet with little money, the best he could afford was a pair of blue-tinted glasses lying around the house. He made sure to wear his white work gloves, lest he leave incriminating fingerprints. He kept his goggles on his head and his tools on hand in the machine. One could never know when repairs might be required.

This will never work, he thought as he started down the street. He had known that from the beginning. He was extremely nervous. He was very close to vomiting at the mere thought of what he planned to do. Yet when he glanced over his shoulder at his house, he also knew that he could not back down. I have to try. For them. So he steeled himself and soldiered on.

The landlord worked late. Far later than any of the other business owners on the street. Takes a long time to wring blood from poor stones, Robotnik wryly thought. He approached the office in his machine. The lights were off, except for one corner office in the back.

Robotnik lifted one of the machine's round, featureless arms and chopped forward. The arm broke through the tall windows. Immediately an alarm went off. Robotnik turned about, swatting wildly. One of his arms hit the alarm. Its ringing slowed, then died.

The landlord came out of his office. "Who's there?" he asked. Then he saw the machine. Robotnik was high above, hidden in the shadows. The doctor tried to stay out of sight.

Running back to the office, the landlord grabbed the phone. Robotnik crashed through the wall, breaking the lights. Now they were shrouded in near-total darkness. He broke the landlord's phone. Then he backed the man against the wall.

"What-What do you want?" the landlord asked. He was shaking and shrinking to the floor.

"Leniency," Robotnik said, dropping his voice. He hoped he sounded menacing enough to frighten the landlord and unrecognizable. "Leniency for your tenants."

"My tenants?" the landlord said unsurely. When Robotnik came closer, he held up his hand. "Of course, of course. Leniency. Whatever you say."

"Get on your computer," Robotnik said. He stepped back. The landlord rushed to the computer. "Bring up your tenants."

When the landlord did so, Robotnik saw the list of names next to a colored map of the city. Robotnik paused a moment. He could not very well tell the man to cut the rent for his house only. Then he could be tracked. So he ordered the landlord to waive all future rent payments from multiple neighborhoods, including his own. "They own the houses now, got it?" Robotnik said.

"Sure, sure," the landlord said. "It's done." He turned to the computer screen to Robotnik.

Robotnik tapped his chin, wondering if he forgot anything. "If you call the cops or tell anyone about this, I will be back. Got it?" Robotnik smashed the computer and phone.

"Yes, I got it!" The landlord cowered beneath his desk. "Please, don't hurt me!"

Satisfied, Robotnik left. He cursed his machine's slow speed. Robotnik urged it to move faster. He needed to improve the speed later. He did not hear any police sirens on his way. However, he knew that it was only a matter of time before the cops were involved.

It was a stupid idea, he thought as he arrived at his house. Robotnik fell out of his machine. His nerves were shot and the rushing sickness returned in full force. He leaned over for a moment, breathing heavily. Then he hid his machine in the backyard beneath some thick foliage. There's nothing to stop him from calling the cops. Then he'll reinstate the rent. All of this was useless!

He kicked the back door open and stormed in. Some of the animals chirped, barked, and made various noises. Robotnik hammered on the wall. "Quiet! All of you!" He collapsed at the dining room table. Tesla circled around his legs, rubbing against him. "Not now," he said, shooing the cat away.

At least I bought a little time. That's better than nothing. Still, the worry that the police would bust down his door had replaced his fear of the rent. His hands shook uncontrollably. He sighed and rubbed his eyes. Robotnik did not sleep well that night.

The next morning, Robotnik woke up to glorious news. He had received a couple of offers for interviews in his email. Both were for part-time positions, requiring odd hours for poor pay. He snatched them up immediately, replying that he would be in for the interviews that very morning.

Perhaps things are looking up for a change, he thought. He glided into the bathroom and showered. Then he fed and watered the animals, adding in apologies for his behavior last night. "I'm sorry," he said, coaxing a few out of their cages. They were reluctant to come near him at first. "I was under a lot of stress last night. I'll try not to do that again."

After then eating a hearty breakfast, he dressed in his best clothes for the interviews. While deciding what color tie to wear, the doorbell rang. "One moment," he said, deciding to wear his red tie over the black one. He raced to the door.

Clarissa stood there with Petey perched on her shoulder. "Good morning, Ivo," she said.

"Oh, good morning, Clarissa." He tied his tie around his neck. "What is it? Something wrong with Petey?"

"No, Petey's fine," Clarissa said. "I just came to see you. Is everything alright?" She took in his formal clothes. "What's the occasion?"

"Got a couple of interviews," he said. "I'm on my way to them now."

"That's good to hear," Clarissa said, grinning. "I'm happy for you."

"Thanks," he said. She continued to stare at him for a while longer until he asked, "Is there something else?"

"Well, no. Kind of," she said. "Did you hear about our landlord?"

His throat constricted. His tongue grew fat and heavy. "What do you mean?" he asked. His voice had become incredibly raspy. He coughed, pretending it was nothing.

"His office was smashed up," Clarissa said. "And strangely enough, he excluded me and others from paying rent for the time being."

"Silver lining," Robotnik said, chuckling.

"Maybe, but you didn't see his office. I went by there this morning. It was lucky he wasn't killed."

"After he squeezes us for every cent we have on the dot every month no matter what, you're worried about him?" Robotnik asked, crossing his arms.

"He was only doing his job. Everyone has a boss you know and he has to pay the bills just like we do. Yes, I was worried about him." Robotnik shook his head. He started to feel a little guilty for the landlord, but clucked his tongue. The man and his bosses were well off comparatively. They could stand to take a hit to the wallet. Or at least be more merciful to late payments.

"I was worried about you too," she added.

That jolted him. "Me?"

"You've been cooped up all week."

He shrugged. "So?"

"So, you were recently fi- er, let go from your job. The bills were piling up. And you were out of money and didn't know what to do last time I saw you." Clarissa bit her lip. "You also wouldn't let anyone see you. I started to assume the worst. That you were going down a bad road you wouldn't come back from."

He caught the hinting in her eyes. The realization of her words dawned upon Robotnik. "Oh, no. No, not at all." He shook his head. "I've only been working hard for the little ones. I apologize. I didn't mean to worry you. Everything's fine."

"You sure?" Clarissa asked.

"Very. Thank you for the concern."

She nodded. "If you want to talk or anything, just come by or call. My door's open. I don't want to see you go to a dark place."

"I won't. I promise. Now, if you'll excuse me, I really must be leaving." He waved farewell to her and strode to the bus stop.

The bus dropped him off a couple of blocks from the first interview. On the way, he made a slight detour to check out the landlord's office for himself. He had destroyed it pretty well. Glass was strewn on the sidewalk and a few police officers were checking the crime scene. One officer was talking with the landlord and taking notes.

Robotnik turned away. His stomach twisted into knots. So the police had been called. They would probably be watching the office for a while now. The landlord would reinstate the rent and Robotnik would be right back where he began. Only now there would be cops after him. He could not make good on his threat. The machine was ill-equipped to handle a police force and their firearms.

"Hey, you!" He leapt into the air and spun around. An officer was approaching him. Robotnik gulped, stepping away. He was about to run when the officer said, "This is a crime scene." The officer pointed at the ground. "Can't you see that?"

He looked down. During his worrying, he had inadvertently stepped into some of the glass. It was labeled as a piece of evidence. Robotnik hopped away from it and smiled. "Sorry, officer." Then he quickly power-walked down the sidewalk.

I'm going to have to do something about this, he thought. Something soon.

The interviews went off nearly without a hitch. The only problem Robotnik ran into was that he was overqualified for the positions. He had to plead and persuade desperately that he had always dreamed of becoming a customer call representative and an alarm technician. Both played pretty well to his strength of fixing machines, whether near or far. He was very thankful for that. He received both positions and started work immediately.

A few weeks passed and he heard nothing from the landlord. Everyday he expected a phone call or a letter to arrive demanding the rent. But so far, there had not been anything. He did not dare return to the office. The police presence around there was strong to him. He had no idea what he could do to permanently solve the problem, so he simply waited, hoping the current situation did not change.

Meanwhile, the unusual work hours were really straining his resolve. Some nights, he dragged himself home from one job only to turn around and go clock-in for the other. He was living paycheck to paycheck, hardly making ends meet. He was cranky often and ended up taking his rage out on the animals. He would always apologize afterwards, but his outbursts were worsening by the day.

Then one night, as he was relishing the opportunity to have a full night's sleep for once, he happened upon an injured rabbit. Its rear legs were crushed as if a vehicle had hit it. It was still alive, but in serious pain. Its wounded screams were heartbreaking. He scooped it in his arms and carefully carried it home.

At home, he picked up his mail. Among the letters, he saw the foreboding name of his landlord. His breathing quickened. What he had feared had come at last.

First things first, he thought. He laid the letters aside. Then he placed the rabbit on the dining room table. The rabbit's agonizing cries sent the other creatures into an uproar. He searched through his supplies, checking for the medical equipment and other materials. But he remembered that he had run out of supplies, using most of them to build his machine. With his salary, he had not been able to afford restocking his supplies. So not only could he not fashion some device to help the poor rabbit, but he could not tend to its wounds. The best he could do was bandage the legs.

He found a little antiseptic and applied that. As the rabbit's screams grew, so did the animals' cacophony in their room. Robotnik gritted his teeth. "That's not really helping!" he yelled at the room. But the noise continued.

When one particular crescendo of screeching from the animals made him fumble the bandages, he slammed the table. He marched into the other room. "Shut up! All of you!" The noise died down and they cowered from him. "In case you haven't heard, there's a poor thing hurt in there and I need to concentrate! I'm really tired after working my fingers to the bone for all of you. I'm really in no mood for this! And the longer you yell, the more that rabbit suffers. So pipe down!"

There were a few whimpers from a dog or two, but he had peace. He returned to the rabbit. Once he finished doing the best he could, he put it in a cage with fresh bedding. He gave it food and water, then placed it beside the other animals.

He grabbed the mail and opened the letter from his landlord. Just as I thought. The previous month had been waived. Instead, the current rent was the normal amount. It was due in full by the end of the month. And I have no way to pay it. He crumpled the letter in his fist.

Money. Always money. He was at the end of his rope with all the money being wringed out of him. A great mind like his should never need for money. He should be rolling in it, able to use it to dispense help and enact whatever he saw fit. Like a leader or ruler. Oh, that would be great, he thought, smiling. If I was in charge, I wouldn't have to care for things like this. He threw the letter away. If only I was in charge, I could mold this city, this world to perfection. To better it.

Those dreams were far away for the time being in his eyes. For now, he needed money and fast. He would be paid before the end of the month, but his measly salary would never cover the rent. There had to be some other way.

As he dwelled on the problem, he fed the animals and cleaned their bedding. "I'm sorry again," he said, apologizing to them on his hand and knees. He tried to stroke one of the Flickys, but it hopped away from him. He also tried to pet Copernicus, yet the dog shied away from his hand. Robotnik bristled at the treatment, but calmed his temper. He simply sighed. "It's okay. I've been short with you all lately." He supposed he deserved to be frightened of for a little while. They would come around if he would. He just needed to be more collected and hardier to his plight.

Hardier. Like metal. His thoughts drifted to his machine. It was still hidden outside, gathering all kinds of nature and insects. He had considered destroying it a while ago in case the police came snooping around. Yet he could not bring himself to. He figured it might have further use. Now, he wondered if he should use it again.

His position as an alarm technician had taken him to many areas of the city. One sort of area he thought of was the various banks he had been to. He had worked on plenty of alarms in many banks, fixing all kinds of problems. So he knew the basics to circumvent their security if he so chose.

What am I thinking? Robotnik headed to his bedroom. The bed had been relatively untouched for days. He sat down on it. Am I really considering this? Robbing a bank?

It was not as if he had not already done anything illegal. After all, the landlord's office was a constant reminder. His hands were jittery and he was sick to his stomach. He would not be hurting one person, but many. And there would likely be security in some other form. Probably armed and highly dangerous.

On the other hand, he could not survive like this. Without money, he would be out on the street within a week. The mourning rabbit in the other room brought up another concern. He needed more supplies. The rabbit definitely could use help and should one of the other animals require care, he would be ill-equipped to give any. He could not let the animals live out on the street either.

I wouldn't really be hurting anyone, he thought after a few moments. The bank would replace everyone's money, which they could receive at anytime I think. As for the security, many only bother to hire one person. One person that I could disarm. He shivered. He did not like it. Yet he believed he may be able to handle it. I'll just go after the ATM. Should be enough cash in there.

I can do it. It's necessary. He nodded. There isn't any other way. He was sure he exhausted all other options. This was something he had to do. Not only for himself, but for the animals too.

He put on his glasses, snapped his goggles to his head, and grabbed his tools. He dressed in dark clothing and wore a black beanie. Into the night he went. He cleaned off his machine and climbed into it. He tested its functions. The machine worked perfectly. He breathed deeply, then marched down the street.

A/N:

Pen: I am liking this more and more.

Sword: Hold me, Pen. *clings to him*

Pen: Do not ruin this for me.

Er, please let us know what you guys and girls think of it so far. Thanks for reading.