FicWad

PROJECT MOBITROPOLIS
S Peter Davis

All characters (C) SEGA, Archie and SP Davis 2004.
Used without permission
To contact the author; trojan_masters@hotmail.com

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ROBOT METROPOLIS

Fate tread quietly when it came to creep up upon Mobitropolis. The sun set on Saturday night and it seemed that all was more or less right with the world. Sunday, however, brought with it an unease that spread throughout the city like wildfire. The calm before the storm had ended. The skies were growing dark and thunder could be seen on the horizon. For the first time, people began to fear that something very bad was about to happen to them. And it was.
The sun was rising. One after another, curtains and windows began to open. The smell of coffee and toast drifted along the streets. A vagrant named Rat stretched and crawled out from under the old newspaper he used as a blanket. House-cats scratched on their owners' doors. SWAT-bots patrolled the streets as they had all night with no need for rest. Everything was as it should be. And yet... there was that sound. It came out of the east. Waking mobians began to peek out of their windows to see what that sound was. It was the sound of some great mass of people moving in unison, but there was also... something else.
They carried steel pipes. They carried planks of wood. They carried baseball bats, lengths of girder, mallets and kitchen implements. As they walked, they also carried grim expressions. There were no smiles in this crowd. There was a job that had to be done, and the time had come to do it. There would be no remorse.
"What do you reckon is going on?" Rat asked as the crowd rounded the corner and began to march down his street.
Bosley lit up a cigarette and watched the people move past. None of them took any notice of him. "Seems there's an old fashioned people's uprising happening," he replied.
"Uprising against what?" Rat asked.
Bosley shrugged. "The New Way," he said, "That's my guess. I knew it couldn't last for long."
They beat their instruments against their open palms as they walked. SWAT-bots analysed their activity in confusion, trying to decide in their simple robotic minds whether the crowd posed a threat to anybody. The people rounded corner after corner until they reached the main street of Mobitropolis, and then moved directly toward the palace.
Now the SWAT-bots perceived a possible threat and began to congregate nearby. Robots emerged from backstreets and alleyways as their hive network gave a new command seperate to their usual patrol route. They gathered around the crowd of people like moths gather around a light, and moved with them. But they were more or less ignored as the crowd marched toward the palace with grim and unerring purpose.
They marched past the schoolyard, and dozens of children interrupted their soccer game to observe the strange event taking place. Three teachers on their coffee break left the tea room with their beverages in hand and hurried to the playground to supervise the curious youngsters. The children chattered questions to the parade, but nobody offered any answers.
The parade had reached Central Park before the news media were able to mobilise and rush toward the scene. By the time they reached the action it would be too late for them to be able to report the news live, but they were to remain on the scene indefinitely as the story continued to heat up. The next time the people of Mobitropolis unglued themselves from the frantic news reports on their televisions, it would be to flee their homes in panic and terror. For this would be the first of the succession of events which would inevitably raze this mighty empire to the ground.
Commander Packbell, the minister for defense and leader of the SWAT-bot unit, was aware of the movement via his computer, to which the SWAT-bots relayed constant reports of their activities and observations. He watched the reports with a growing interest as he continued a conversation on the telephone.
"Yes sir," he said, "Everything is entirely in order. I've just seen the package off on an envoy to the launch base at Zero Seven. Yes sir. All necessary precautions have been considered. I can't guarantee the safety of this line at this time, although I suspect that we're safe, I shouldn't divulge any specifics. No sir, I cannot be assured of that."
He frowned and suddenly parted from the computer terminal to look out the window. He could clearly see a congregation of people outside the outer gates of the palace, escorted by dozens of SWAT-bots. Their intentions were not entirely clear.
"Yes sir. You mentioned that earlier, I took the liberty of sending an appropriate subject with the envoy this morning. I sent you the echidna... Prince Martin hired him recently to oversee the emerald excavations, he's a hermit and nobody knows him, so he could easily disappear without bringing any undue attention to us before the transition. I decided it was the most resourceful option. Yes sir. Yes Doctor. Well, I thank you, but logic is after all my strongest virtue."
Outside, the crowd ceased its movements and stared solemnly toward the palace. The media scurried to assemble some kind of presence nearby, but the trucks hadn't even pulled up before the strike began.
A moment of silence, the kind of dead silence that accompanies any disaster as the universe balanced the weight of its own entropy. The street was lined with faces, and more appeared in windows along every wall, everyone anticipating an event that they were unsure was even going to happen.
But then it did. The mobian at the head of the congregation suddenly let out a furious scream that, in the accompanying silence, could be heard for almost a kilometer in all directions. For a second it was the only sound, but the street was soon choked with enough noise to drown it out completely. With fierce and pitiless savagery, the crowd turned on the SWAT-bots that had gathered to supervise the unpredictable gathering. Before the robots could act in their own defense, snarling mobians pounded and crushed their hulls with their makeshift weapons of combat. Onlookers fled the scene, terrified by the unprecedented display of brutality.
One aspect that limited the SWAT-bots as a police force was the fact that their actions were controlled by programming, and any decision they made was based on established rules of engagement. The robots were coldly rational and unquestionably efficient when it came to handling breeches of internal security. That aside, there were very few protocols in place that dealt with the SWATs' own self defense. Most any situation dealing with actions against people or property had been considered, but nobody had ever seriously entertained the possibility of a strike directly against the robots themselves, as though somebody might be offended by their presence alone. In that respect, the robots were caught without any idea of what to do, with no grounds present by which to justify a counter-response. Rules of benevolent constraint dictated that there were very few situations in which a SWAT-bot was permitted to use force, so the victimised robots were limited to the most basic methods of restraint, all of which were almost completely ineffective against a mob this size.
The delay in an adequate response led to twelve SWAT-bots being completely destroyed before the riot could be contained. The robots eventually made a complex decision that the decimation of the SWAT force would directly constitute a threat against the security of the throne, and this sanctioned a forceful retaliation, but by this time the riot was already dissipating. Having made their point, the crowd dropped their weapons and scattered in all directions. A greater force of SWATs poured forth from every angle of the city and attempted to subdue or at least identify the protesters, but most of them escaped free and clear. Five arrests were made, but the scrapped and sparking remains of twelve SWAT-bots already imparted a powerful message, given that only three of the robots had ever lost a battle since the model was implemented. Several of the instruments left behind by the mob were inscribed with messages printed in large red capitals: WORKERS UNION OF MOBITROPOLIS DEMANDS NO MORE ROBOTS!
"I'm afraid I'll have to call you back," Packbell said, "There is a disturbance. No... nothing unmanagable. Suffice to say that things are definitely heating up in the city, Doctor."

Sonic and Kethriel stared up at the bleak vision before them. Nothing could have prepared Sonic for this: After traversing several square miles of undeveloped land, Kethriel had taken him over one final hill, and laid out before him was the most massive single industrial complex that Sonic had ever seen, the expanse of Zero Seven. It was like a city of machines, like a robot metropolis built for these unnatural beings that clanked and shambled in a way so like life, and yet, so unlike life. The complex was a tight multitude of yellow-brick and dark blue metal buildings backing onto the ocean. Woven between the structures were hundreds of pipes so large that they looked as though they could easily be walked upon, pumping water or oil or who-knows-what-else throughout the metropolis. From this height they could see most of the complex and the coastline beyond. Kethriel pointed out a massive almost circular construction built over the water, waves lapping up against it. The thing seemed incomplete, almost like some aquatic landing pad. Sonic asked him what it was.
"A docking platform," Kethriel replied, "For something very, very large. Freaked out yet?"
Sonic mentally compared the size of the platform with the size of the Flying Battery, which was already the largest flying machine he had ever seen. Even so, he calculated that the machine made for that platform was maybe ten, even twenty times larger. A little shiver traced along his spine.
Zero Seven was a labyrinth about which neither of the hedgehogs knew terribly much, and Kethriel had voiced numerous times his wish that the computer adept Slick could have accompanied them on this information retrieval mission.
"He taught me a thing or two about Robotnik's mainframe setup," he said, "You could say I got the Hacking 101 crash course over the past week. There's still nothing I can do that he can't do a thousand times faster, but hopefully we can have a fairly uneventful run. The key here is stealth, we need to get in, look around, get what we need and get out."
"What exactly is it that we're looking for?" Sonic asked.
"Access codes for the SWAT-bots, ideally," Kethriel replied, "But they're probably too encrypted. What the Freedom Fighters really need is something that'll make the SWATs easier to override. Sometime in the next few days, Mobitropolis is going to become a police state. Nobody will be able to sneeze without the prince's permission. Taking down the SWAT network will be our first priority during that time."
"Why can't you just hack the Iron Ward?"
"The SWATs take their orders from Mobitropolis, but the orders are made here," Kethriel said, "The Ward is just where the SWAT-bots are born. Zero Seven is where they are conceived. It's hard to formulate a complex and multi-faceted insurrection from within the government you're trying to overthrow. There's always somebody looking over your shoulder. This is where most of the cloak and dagger really takes place, because it's so out of the way. The problem with spying in Zero Seven is that it's much more difficult to be inconspicuous when absolutely everyone else is a robot."
The hedgehogs made their way down to the machine city with due caution, avoiding the many patrols of SWAT-bots that kept a silent vigil around the perimeter. Kethriel carried in his head a working knowledge of the holes and imperfections in the defense system, so they slipped into the complex with lethe confidence, Sonic following his leader's movements and treading in his footsteps until they reached the outer wall of an unmarked building, the only feature a narrow window a short distance above our heads.
"It's as good an entrance as any," Kethriel declared.
"I'm not sure I can fit through that, Keth."
"Oh sure you can, sure. You're young and agile. Here, I'll give you a leg up."

"I'd like to thank you all for assembling at such short notice," Commander Packbell announced before the parliament of Mobitropolis. This was not a fully inclusive meeting, only about forty percent of the government were present. The most important officials excluding King Acorn himself had been called to assemble. Acorn had been informed of the trouble, but in light of more pressing duties, empowered the defense minister with the authority to handle things on his own. A few worried that it was an arrangement disturbingly reminiscent of martial law, but the king's word was still final in such matters.
"As you know," Packbell said, "Just under an hour ago, a riot broke out in the city square that caused severe damage to our active robot military. We have concluded that sixteen SWAT-bots were damaged overall, twelve of which were completely decommissioned."
"How did this happen?" somebody shouted, "These things are supposed to be unstoppable!"
"Under the right circumstances, they are," the commander replied, "The SWATs are designed to be highly effective against a forseen threat. They assemble quickly to counter a hostile situation and neutralise it in the best possible manner within the constraints of their programming. This was an unprompted and unpredictable act of terrorism, and through what was admittedly a failure in intelligence we were unprepared to formulate a proper defense procedure. This kind of attack is almost unheard of in Mobitropolis, but we must now consider the possibility that we will see more like it."
"Commander!" exclaimed another concerned voice, and somebody stood up among the crowd of officials. It was a slim orange sphinx named Redford Whisker, the shadow defense minister and frequent spokesman for the opposition. "Are we to understand that this is yet another gaping hole in the supposedly infallible robotized police system?" he asked, "That once again these kindergarten toys that you've got patrolling the city, through their sheer and simple inability to formulate a single intelligent thought, have failed to do the job that they were built to do?"
A few of the politicians articulated agreeance with Whisker's thoughts.
"Sir, you lack understanding about how the robots work," Packbell replied, "The SWAT engine operates under the command of a simple system of probability in coherence with certain unbreakable laws and regulations. They do not think in the way that you or I think, it's true. They do not think in the way that makes mobians unreliable. Their uncorruptability means that they will never break the law themselves under any circumstance, but you can't say the same about a mobian. A SWAT-bot is only as reliable as the law permits it to be."
"Don't pass the buck, Commander," Whisker said.
"I am merely reporting the facts, sir. The facts are that the SWATs were prevented from intercepting the terrorists earlier because the law clearly prohibits interference in civilian demonstrations. Over the past week we have seen a number of protests take place, led by the very group who staged this morning's attack. The inevitable consequence of these protests is that, through legislatory impotence, they were allowed to boil over into hostility."
"And what would you suggest? That we outlaw organised demonstration? We pull the plug on free speech so that your tin soldiers can do their job properly?"
Packbell sighed. "The point I am trying to make is that we are entering a new age. I'm sure you've all heard the rumours lately. You've all heard tales about covert groups working behind the scenes in Mobitropolis, working towards an ultimate coup against the throne. These are improbable tales but in light of recent events we have to take them seriously. Until we get to the root of the problem and disband these groups, we have to take a harder line against organised dissention, even if it appears benign."
"Commander, the fuel of these protests is about the presence of the robots themselves! Go back to a mobian police force and you can fix both these problems at once!"
"That's interesting," Packbell replied, "Do you always back down to the commands of terrorists? What happens when they start having further ideas about how this city should be run? Will you lie down and let a minority rule Mobitropolis just because they have a mob militia armed with pipes and two-by-fours? Or will you answer to the majority who have voted for a more efficient and more reliable police force to keep them safe? My friends, we have some hard decisions ahead of us all, but I trust the intelligence of everyone in this room, as long as we keep our wits. In light of tonight's planned celebrations I wish to propose an immediate heightening of palace security, effective as soon as it can be arranged. Among my recommendations are to put the SWATs on a higher level of alert, raising our defense at any sign of protest. I want to ask for the production of at least two hundred new units to garrison the palace. I'd also like to ask that the crown jewels be moved to a more secure location as soon as possible."
"Why the crown jewels?" someone asked.
"Simply as a precaution. The jewels are a traditional target for rebel groups simply because they symbolise the hub of power in Mobitropolis. Call it an educated concern. I want you all to be aware that co-operation is crucial at this time, we need to work together on this. A very real threat has just made itself known, and it is our duty to the people that we quell it before it causes further destruction."

Sonic grunted and complained under his breath as he squeezed himself through into the dark abyss beyond the narrow window. Finally with a wail louder than he had intended, he slipped through to the other side and fell to the hard concrete floor. Kethriel asked him from the other side whether he was all right, and he had to let his eyes adjust to the darkness before he could respond. When finally he could see, he had to groan.
"You put me in jail, Keth."
He had slipped into a bare and torturous prison cell with concrete walls and metal bars. Having just escaped imprisonment, it was the last place he wanted to be.
"Dang," Keth said through the window, "Is it clear?"
"Yeah, I can't see any guards- oh wait, it's okay, the door is open."
"Keep an eye out, I'm coming through."
Sonic crept around until he was confident that nobody (and nothing) was waiting around to ensnare them. When he heard Kethriel drop into the cell, he gave the nod and the both of them wandered into the hallway beyond, where dozens upon dozens of similar cells were lined against each other, shrouded in darkness aside from a small crack of light filtering from each narrow rectangular window.
"What is this, a dungeon?" Sonic asked.
"Yeah, it sure is. It's like I told you before, the prince needs a place to store the people he considers a threat to his cause. You'd surely be on the other side of one of these if you'd been caught earlier."
Sonic shuddered at the thought of being in that cell for any longer than he had been.
"Hey," Kethriel said, "Keep watch here for a moment, will you? I'm going to run ahead and check something."
The blue hedgehog stood and waited patiently while his partner jogged ahead. He leaned against the bars of the nearest cell and looked across into the one opposite him. The thin sliver of light upon the wall wrought its ghost upon the floor below, and Sonic wondered where the son of the Good King of Mobitropolis learned to be so cruel. It was then that he heard something and tensed up. Listening hard, he realised that the sound was not a SWAT-bot, but a voice speaking softly. It was coming from the cell behind him.
"......somebody....there?"
Sonic spun around and tried to squint into the darkness to see who was trapped in this terrible prison, but the lump beyond was too ambiguous to make out properly.
"We're here to help!" Sonic exclaimed, "Who are you?"
The prisoner was silent for a moment, and then let out a chuckle that might have really been a sob. "Here there be monsters," it replied.
The voice was heavily accented, and Sonic tried to remember where he had heard it before. It was the voice of a female, soft and delicate and infected with sorrow.
"I want to help you," Sonic repeated, "My name is Sonic."
"Sonic..." the figure said, ponderously, "Sonic, yes, I know... You've come all this way?"
"I know you, don't I? Who are you?"
"You knew me, who I was. You wouldn't recognise me now. There's not much left of me."
"Tell me! Who are you?" The lament in that voice almost made him feel like bursting into tears himself.
Slowly, the figure picked itself up to a standing position. Somehow, the shape before him was too big for its voice, too bulky. The prisoners limbs were all the wrong shape, one arm much thicker than the other. When she came towards him, she walked with a heavy limp, and for some reason her feet made a heavy thumping sound as she moved, like a stone golem trying to move for the first time. Ka...thump. Ka...thump. Ka...thump. Sonic was suddenly afraid, and moved backward as the figure advanced. Finally the light from her small window caught her and moved like a torch-light across her body. Sonic saw fur and fingers, then bulky and tarnished metal in the same vision. Two things that shouldn't appear in the same place. A glimpse of flesh, a flash of steel, muscles and hardware. The light finally settled on her face, which had been left mercifully unmangled and recognisable.
"Bunnie, oh God..."
Bunnie smiled, but in a pitifully sad way. "Sort of," she replied, "Partly. I am what he made me."
"Bunnie," Sonic retained his courage before her friendly and feminine visage. "I slipped in through the window, can you slip out the same way?"
"It's shut," she replied, "Bulletproof glass, I think, not that they let you have guns in here. Besides, I think my days of slipping through windows are over."
"What's happening?" Kethriel returned and sidled up beside Sonic. The other hedgehog stammered and couldn't reply.
"Hi there, sugar-hog," Bunnie said.
Kethriel squinted into the cell, unbelieving. "Bunnie! Is that you? Is that really you?"
"Blue and I have just established that the answer to that isn't easy."
Kethriel saw the bulging shapes in the darkness where her body should have been, and his excited expression fell like a ton of rocks. "Oh Bunnie... oh no... what... have they done to you?"
"Tested his machine on me, the notorious Robotizer," she replied, then after a moment of consideration, "It works, by the way."
"Are you... are you still... you?" Sonic asked.
"I don't know. What makes me me? He didn't touch my brain. The process... it erases your memories, your thoughts, everything. He wanted what I knew to be intact, so he left my brain. But... it's full of new thoughts now. It's like there are two of me."
"You're still Bunnie to me," Kethriel replied, "You're still Bunnie Rabbit."
"I'm a Rab-BOT now," Bunnie corrected.
"We can't get her out," Sonic said.
"Oh yes we can," Kethriel replied, "I know the access code. I thought I was going to have to bust you out of here, remember? I came prepared."
The hedgehog began typing a code into the security keypad affixed to the lock. Sonic couldn't help wondering whether they could trust the half-robotic Freedom Fighter, the Rabbot, and felt instantly ashamed of himself for thinking such things.
"Could you release my friend as well?" Bunnie asked.
"What friend?"
"In the next cell."
While Kethriel worked at her cell, Sonic wandered over to inspect the next. There was another lump inside this one, unmoving.
"Hey," he said. There was no response. A little louder, he tried again. "Hey!"
The second prisoner bolted upright. "Huuh? What?"
Sonic recognised this shape almost right away, and groaned deeply. "Oh great, it had to be you."
Still half asleep, Rhes el Carrion picked himself up and stumbled toward the bars of his dark cage. "Who's there? Hedgehog?"
"Forget it, this one's staying where he is," Sonic insisted.
Bunnie's cell swung open and she and Kethriel approached the second prison.
"Well, this is pretty ironic, isn't it now," Carrion said, "That I should owe you of all people for my rescue."
"Keth, he's working for Martin," Sonic said.
"Oh come on!" Carrion protested, "If I was still on his payroll, do you think I would be where I am? Use your brain."
"Careful," Kethriel warned, "Don't be rude to my friend, guy, I have your only key."
"I don't like this," Sonic said.
"Have a heart," Carrion said, "Let me out of this rat-infested sardine can and you'll never have to see me again. Swear it on my dear mother's life."
"He's fine," Bunnie said, "He likes the prince even less than we do, if that's possible."
"He wasted five years of my life," Carrion said, "Five years with no pay, that's time I'm not getting back, you better believe I'm mad."
"Well you know, I hate to say I told you so," Sonic said.
"Don't gloat, it's unbecoming of you."
"Set him free, he's no harm," Bunnie said, "I promise."
"Well, he doesn't look to be dangerous," Kethriel replied, typing in the code.
"You haven't had him point a gun at your face," Sonic replied, sour.
When Carrion was released, he dusted off his suit and tried his best to look pompous despite his situation. "Thank you." The words came out in a half-cough, as though they were difficult to articulate. "Now, how do I get out of this place?"
"You follow us," Kethriel replied, "We helped you, now you help us."
"Oh I see," Carrion replied, "You're one of those types. Well, I guess if you're planning on sticking it to Princey, I can suffer a little more unpaid work in the name of poetic justice. Bring it on."

A dark figure stood before a computer terminal, illuminated only by the light of the screen and by an orange luminescence from somewhere behind him. The source was a jagged and sharp-looking machine with spotlights for eyes. It watched in dumb animal-interest as its master observed the monitor. An image on the screen showed footage from a streaming camera, four figures wandering along the halls of the prison complex.
"This is fascinating, Silver," the figure said, speaking in the same manner as one might speak to a pet or an inanimate object, more for his own benefit than for a desire to truly communicate. "Absolutely fascinating to witness. Despite all of his tribulations. It's as though some kind of instinct has led him here, isn't it? Now I'm more anxious to speak with him than ever."
He switched something on the terminal and changed the image. Now he was watching an echidna standing alone on a balcony.
"The hedgehog has proven resourceful," he said to the robot at his side, "Diligent. With no shortage of friends. In light of this, I might have to change my plans for our dear Knuckles the Echidna. It appears he's more use to us alive for the time being."

Knuckles the Echidna looked upon the iron and steel metropolis of Zero Seven brewing feelings not unlike contempt for the greasy sprawling machinations of this unnatural world. The smog choked him and with all of his being he wished he wasn't here, he wished for the crystalline skies and untarnished waters of the Floating Island, his paradise. He vowed that very soon he would return home, that he was close to done with these foreigners, their strange dark machines and clouded intentions.
As he pondered, however, a figure approached at his side, and the two of them stood together at the balcony of this dark industrial tower, peering at the unrelenting business below them.
"Hello, Knuckles, I'm pleased to meet you," the figure said, "You probably know already, but my name is Robotnik, I'm Minister of Science in Mobitropolis. Doctor Robotnik."
"Yes, I know," Knuckles replied. "I wish you hadn't brought me here. This place sickens me, it's like an offense to all of my senses at once. I'm a child of nature, Doctor."
"I shouldn't imagine why," Robotnik replied, "We're all a part of nature, Knuckles. The things we build are natural to us, they do everything that nature does. These machines, they consume resources, they reproduce and in time they dissolve into scrap. Each one has a purpose within our constructed biosphere, or our mechanisphere. I see nature in everything down there."
"That might be," the echidna replied, "But I see differently. The difference is as distinct to me as black is from white. These things have no souls."
"Souls are overrated," Robotnik said, under his breath. Then, more loudly, "In any event I'm sorry to have shuttled you so far out of your way. I had a very important job for you, but... it's no longer necessary."
"Oh, that's great."
"While you're here, though, I wanted the opportunity to discuss something with you. Actually, I shouldn't be telling you any of this, but there are things that I believe you deserve to hear. Things regarding your role in all of this."
"All I can say is it's about time," Knuckles snapped, "I've about had it with the secrecy around here. I was supposed to get a call from Carrion yesterday but I never did... next thing I know, I'm being held prisoner in my own hotel room for ten hours before these rustbucket abominations bust in and throw me on a plane. If I'm supposed to trust you people, you're going the wrong way about earning it."
"I apologise about all of that," Robotnik said, "The fact is that you have been caught up - and rather rudely, I might add - in some very secret events. I want to tell you that most of what you have been informed about your role in this operation has been a lie."
"Well now I'm ticked off. I don't appreciate being lied to, Doctor. In fact, it's a health hazard."
"I know. But let me explain. The fact is that there is a political upheaval about to take place in Mobitropolis. A revolution, actually. There has been a rather large rebellion brewing for some time, and it is about to spill into all-out war. The Chaos Emeralds are essential to the city's defense in the coming days, without them the results would be catastrophic. Thus the urgency in their retrieval. Thus the necessity of your participation."
"I don't care about your politics," Knuckles spat, "I don't care an inch. Have all the revolutions you want, wipe yourselves off the planet for all I care. My business isn't with the affairs of the mainland, it's with the affairs of my island. The Chaos Emeralds are an affair of my island."
"Of course," Robotnik explained, "But our business is with more than Mobitropolis. Believe it or not, your island and the safety of all these lands around us are as much a concern as our own interests, Knuckles. You see, the rebels know of our quest for the emeralds, and they know of the power that the emeralds contain. They know more than we suspected, in fact, and over the last week they have been sending their own militants to steal them from us. You've probably heard this. Our fear is what would happen if they actually succeeded. They call themselves Freedom Fighters, ironically. The 'freedom' they presume to fight for is anarchic. If they had all of the emeralds in their hands, the results would be unthinkable. They would spread this war to every point on the globe, I wouldn't even think that your own home would be safe for long. Recently our priority has changed from obtaining the emeralds to protecting them. My colleagues are skeptical, but I retain the opinion that the best way to achieve this goal is with your help and guidance."
"Well now we're getting somewhere. You're damn right that's the best way. I've been protecting power emeralds since I was a child. In fact, this is the reason the emeralds were buried in the first place, and why you should have given them to me the second you found them."
"People often misjudge," Robotnik replied, "Society has been built on layers of mistakes. We shouldn't dwell on them. Our biggest problem right now is keeping one step ahead of the enemy's hero, the Freedom Fighters' most powerful militant."
"The blue blur," Knuckles muttered.
"His name," Robotnik said, "Is Sonic. He's very fast and very cunning. He's infiltrated our defenses a number of times and managed to take a number of the emeralds. We got them all back again, to our credit, but he's relentless. And he's here right now."
"Here?"
"Yes, he's in this facility somewhere as we speak. He's come to intercept the emeralds before we can get them to safety. I wanted you to be here because I'm afraid he may succeed."
"Where are you taking them?" Knuckles demanded.
Robotnik smiled. "Where even the fastest hedgehog alive can't get them. The ARK space colony."
"And you want me here."
"Yes. I've heard stories about you, Knuckles. I've heard that you shred metal-plated punching bags without breaking a sweat. I've heard that you stalk people just for fun, and that being stalked by you is like being followed by a ghost. You're more than an emerald detector. In fact, I rather suspect that you might be the only one who can really face up against this Sonic and stop him before he has a chance to become unstoppable."
"I'm not a muscle for hire," Knuckles assured him.
"No," Robotnik replied, "No, you're a lone ranger. But you'll fight for your own interests. They just happen to be interests that we share. The protection of the Chaos Emeralds. He wants them all, Knuckles, and he won't let anything stand in his way. I can't force you to trust me, but I can grant you free rein of this facility until such a time as I can guarantee the safety of the emeralds. I have a feeling you're a good fellow to have around the house." He turned to leave.
"And if I don't trust you?" Knuckles asked.
"Cats and people don't trust each other, either," Robotnik called back, "But they both chase the same rats."

"I am so sorry, Bunnie," Kethriel said, glumly, "If I'd known what you were going to have to go through, I'd never have sent you on that mission. If I'd had even the faintest clue that I was sending you into a trap..."
"I knew what I was getting into," Bunnie replied, "I wouldn't be a Freedom Fighter if I didn't."
"That's true. I'm just so very relieved that you're alive."
"Sometimes I'm not sure I share that sentiment, sugar-hog." She wiggled the fingers of her left hand, some of the very few flesh parts she had been allowed to retain.
"We've known each other a long time," Kethriel said, "If you want a way out of this... to get out of this, all of it... I'll understand. Just say the word, there isn't a single mobian in Knothole or Mobitropolis who would hold it against you. You've been through enough, this whole thing has taken enough from you."
Bunnie looked right at him, her expression difficult to read. She appeared suddenly furious, but not necessarily at Kethriel.
"He did me slowly," she said, "I lost one limb at a time. It hurts, Keth. Like nothing you can imagine. He changed my left foot first, because he said this was an important trial for him and rabbits' feet are lucky. He put it under this... this light, and it looked like it was building a boot around it, but it felt like dipping my foot in acid, like it was being eaten away, dissolved slowly. I suppose that's pretty much what really was happening. He kept asking me the same questions, but I never told him anything, so he changed me, piece by piece. He took my other foot, then each leg, then my waist, my chest, my arm... I guess he was gonna take the other arm soon enough but he got distracted by something or other so he just forgot me. I can't imagine Hell being a much worse fate than robotization, Keth. That's exactly why I'm going to keep fighting. In fact, I'm going to fight harder. I don't want this to happen to a single other person. Not my worst enemy."
"You're a brave soul, Bun," Kethriel replied, a smile on his face, "We're lucky to have you."
"Does it... still hurt?" Sonic stammered, "Can you feel anything?"
Bunnie flexed the mechanical atrocities that now passed for the fingers of her right hand, and observed them curiously. "I feel... something," she replied, "They register some kind of pain, I suppose. It's just not organic, it's... sterile. My mind has all this new information now, I don't think anyone's supposed to be half-robotized. It's all or nothing. I'm having trouble coping with it. Like I said, it's like I'm two people now. Rabbit and Rabbot." She shook her head sadly. "He's mad, Keth. Robotnik, I mean. He's an absolute psychopath, I don't think anyone has any idea, not really. He didn't care about me at all, I could see. I was like a toy to him, just another interesting experiment to play with. Like a kid pulling the wings off a fly. I was near death and it was exciting him so much. Too much. I think I was more afraid of him than what he was doing to me."
"You see what you were helping them do?" Sonic asked Carrion.
The vulture scowled at him. "Oh get off your high horse, hedgehog. Not everything is about good and evil. I don't make any apologies for taking a job when it was offered to me. If you have a problem with the prince, do what I'm doing and take it out on the prince. You live in a garbage bin, right? You can't tell me you wouldn't ever have taken a buck from him if he'd offered it."
"Hey you two," Kethriel said, "Cool it. There'll be time for all this later."
"Wait," Bunnie said suddenly, and the expression on her face became as blank as plywall. Her eyelids flitted and her eyes rolled back a little into her head.
"Bunnie?" Kethriel asked, his tone of voice betraying more than a little concern for her wellbeing. The android rabbit, or Rabbot as she seemed now to be known, did not respond to her name. Then the episode ended just as quickly as it had been brought on, the life flooding back into her face, and she grimaced a little. "Ouch."
"What happened?" Sonic asked.
"I yearn for the days when I could count my senses on one hand," she replied, "You might be interested to know that there's a facility for robotics research nearby where you might be able to obtain that information you needed to find."
"Your... robot parts told you that?"
"No, my memory told me that. My robot parts told me that there's a slow-moving warm body tailing us about fifty feet back moving at the same exact speed that we are."
Kethriel squinted into the darkness behind them. "I can't see anything."
"Someone's there," Bunnie assured him, "Let's go, and be careful."

The King of Mobitropolis wore his more modest attire on this morning, but for a king, it was still more regal than even the fanciest clothes in most people's wardrobes. Andreas Packbell approached the monarch wearing the full uniform that his title of Military Commander carried with it; with crisp and polished shoes, spotless royal-blue trousers, a matching overcoat over a collared black shirt buttoned all the way to his adam's apple, blood-red tie tucked into his coat, twelve badges pinned vertically over his left breast and six thin red strokes to denote his rank stitched onto each thick, sharp shoulderpad. He saluted his king, raising one black-gloved hand to his forehead. He stood so straight that a marble wouldn't have rolled off the top of his head.
"These certainly are troubling times," King Acorn said, "Come now, Andreas. You know that isn't necessary. Tell me, what has the council arranged?"
"There is conflict among the council, sire," Packbell replied, "But it has been conceded, as I suspected it would, that our security must be elevated immediately. I wish it was not so, but the fact is that there is upwards of a ninety percent chance that the group responsible for this morning's riot will regroup and attempt a more serious attack. We managed several arrests, and those questioned have assured us that these terrorists are only warming up."
The king nodded solemnly. "I dearly hope that my announcement this evening will not further aggrivate this situation. It's not easy being in my position, Andreas. It breaks my heart that I have to be protected from the very people I try to keep happy. I hope that my dear daughter will not resent me for my gift to her."
"Never, sire. She adores you." There was a short pause, then, "Sire... I must make a request."
"Anything, certainly."
"I desire your permission to commandeer and relocate the crown jewels. Personally."
The king faltered, pausing to take in the statement. "Andreas," he said, "It has always been one of the most guarded of traditions in Mobitropolis that the jewels remain in their place... they're moved only during a crowning ceremony."
"I realise the gravity of the request, sire, but troubling times often call for bold measures. Royal tradition has not carried as much significance in modern times as it once did - I recall that, only three years ago, the jewels were removed for cleaning, and there was no outrage over the decision. It's just that I fear for the safety of such important symbols of sovereignty in light of these recent attacks. If I may be so bold, Majesty, if it were up to me, I would send yourself, your family and the jewels to the most secure of locations until the problem is stabilised. However I doubt that you would agree to such a thing, so I am prepared to compromise."
The king smiled. "You're right," he said, "My place is here. I suppose the king and his city share the same fate as the captain and his ship. Very well, Andreas, do what you feel you must. I trust your wisdom in these matters."
"Thank you, Majesty," Packbell replied, "I will make the arrangements immediately, and I shall see you tonight at the celebrations."
"I hope so, my friend, I do hope so."

Zero Seven, evidently, was built upon the site of the largest and most advanced robotics facility in the history of Mobius. Kethriel knew this, and during their conversations he revealed to Sonic many stories about the significance of this site throughout history. Kethriel's grandfather had fought in the Android Wars, and passed down his stories of grand adventure. Zero Seven was so named as a play on the fact that, before the time of the Android Wars, there were six companies across Westerica that monopolised the robotics industry. This facility was built on the site of the head research complex of Mobocorp Robotics Limited, the infamous conglomorate who almost single-handedly triggered the Wars when they gave birth to B-311, a defense system run by an artificial intelligence labelled colloquially as The Unmind. Mobocorp sold B-311 to Mobitropolis, who named the system the Perfunctory Aggression Containment Consciousness, or PACC. At the same time, the five competing robotics companies created similar systems (though none as powerful as B-311/PACC) and sold them to other nations. Corporate rivalry between Mobocorp and its competitors was always strong; the difference was that now each of them had command over the robot militaries of the world. The rest was inevitable.
Now as the four of them wandered through the halls of the seventh great temple of robotics, a comparison that Kethriel regarded as both terribly bad taste and yet extremely appropriate, the evil that had once spread from here to every point on the globe like a virus of the blood seemed to rise again to infect everything around it.
"Do you people even know where you're going?" Carrion asked as they weaved throughout the catacombs of this robot metropolis. Whether their direction had purpose or whether they were simply following an instinct to move toward the light was unclear, but the darkness wore thin as an eerie red light slowly enveloped them, as well as a heat that was first somewhat cloying but became uncomfortable.
"Sure," Kethriel replied, "We're moving into the heart of this monster."
Eventually their path proved itself a dead end, leading them onto some form of balcony or viewing platform. But the sight before them almost caused Sonic to choke on his own breath.
The red-orange illumination came from a massive vat, a lake really, of what looked like magma but was probably molten metal. Tubes from all directions deposited the slow-moving but immensely heated goop into the lake of fire below. All around this massive chamber was what looked like the clockwork guts of the biggest machine ever conceived. Cogs and pistons, each as big as a building, moved in harmony and kept this room operating as it should. Some kind of giant conveyor belt scooped the molten material up and carried it away while an enormous churning/mixing device turned within the lake and prevented it from falling stagnant.
"What is this place?" Sonic asked, in awe.
"The robot revolution needs a lot of metal," Bunnie said, "Millions of tonnes of it. There are mines all over the continent, they rip it out of the ground and ship it by the train-load. It all winds up here. They melt it down and prepare it for refining. There are ships blasting into space almost every day from here, taking metal up to ARK. The rest gets sent to the Iron Ward."
"If only we had explosives big enough," Kethriel remarked, "If we could just take out Zero Seven, wipe it off the face of Mobius. We'd finish this in one big mushroom cloud."
"Make sure Martin and Robotnik are here when it happens," Sonic added. "We should get going, this heat is getting to me."
He turned back toward the darkness, but before he could move anywhere, something startled him so badly he almost fell over backwards. It was so quick that he wasn't even certain he saw it at all. Two eyes, glowing as red as embers, disembodied in the dark void, as though they had been watching him from behind. Whatever creature or demon those eyes belonged to fled as soon as he turned.
"Whoa!"
"What's wrong?" Kethriel asked guardedly.
"I saw something-"
"You saw what?"
"I don't know, it looked like eyes, but they were lit up- I mean, they weren't mobian, they were-"
"Machine?"
"Probably... I mean maybe, gee I don't know, I'm not even sure I saw anything at all." Sonic shivered as he recalled the partial image he had received from his repressed memories the day before, of some awful silver creature with orange eyes that chased him in the dark. Those eyes hadn't looked like the ones he had just seen.
"That's freaky," Carrion said, "In fact, that's a little too freaky, kids. I'm starting to worry here that we're in a little ways over our head."
"If we keep our wits about ourselves we'll be fine," Kethriel said, "Now, which way?"
There were three avenues available to them: One path led back to the prison complex, the way they had come. Another path led away to the left and another to the right. Kethriel looked one way, then the other, then looked to Bunnie for guidance.
"I'm not exactly sure, sugar-hog," she said, "I don't... quite remember. I've been here before, they took me along here... Both ways look kinda the same, don't they."
"Well, I guess there's only one solution to this," Kethriel said, "Bun, you take the vulture down that way, Sonic and I will take the other road and one of us is bound to reach nirvana one way or another."
"Right, and do you think it's a good idea to split up in light of evidence that we're being persued by warm bodies and things with lit-up eyes?" Carrion asked.
"Don't worry, I'll protect you," Bunnie said with a smile.
"Being that we're a little strapped for time, I don't think we have a lot of alternatives," Kethriel added, "Just be discreet, and if you get into trouble, don't be a hero."
"Wasn't planning to be," Carrion replied.

Sonic. A funny name for a hedgehog. Not that he was an average looking hedgehog. Knuckles watched as the queerly coloured figure wandered through the Zero Seven facility with a distinct aura of patience and determination. This was the blue blur that he had heard about, and by gosh, he was only a kid. What was he, fifteen? The teenager flaunted some bizarre kind of youth fashion statement, his fur and spines all dyed electric blue and slicked back into some sleek three-row design along his back. All he wore were two red sneakers and a cloth bag of nondescript contents around his neck. The Freedom Fighters' mercenary was some kind of kid punk probably devoid of any amount of life experience in the real world. But there was no doubt about it, somewhere the kid had learned how to run. Like the wind, if the stories had any truth to them.
Knuckles had his first good look at Sonic the Hedgehog from a distance. He watched the kid for a very long time. Was he really a threat to the world? If he managed to collect all of the Chaos Emeralds and figured out how to harness their power, Knuckles supposed that it was quite possible. And this Sonic had gone to great lengths to do just that. No matter where in the world the emeralds were taken, the blue blur just kept showing up, despite any tribulations thrust in his way. Knuckles was taken by an immense desire quite suddenly to teach this hedgehog a lesson. There was no reason anybody but himself should want to collect the seven emeralds. He was their guardian, sworn to keep the tyrants of this crooked world away from a power that was never meant to be harnessed. This kid just needed a good smack, and Knuckles knew just the echidna to give it to him. Sonic's back was turned, and Knuckles stepped out of the shadows with his fists bared. His face stony, upper lip stiff as a board, his hands became boulders, and he drew back a right hook-
Suddenly another hedgehog appeared, an older figure with rugged brown spines, and Knuckles was back behind a corner, his back flat against the wall. The hedgehogs talked among themselves; he hadn't been seen. That was a close call, he realised it wouldn't serve him well to underestimate what he was up against. He reminded himself of his priorities - don't be a loose cannon, don't forget yourself, protect the emeralds, protect the emeralds, protect the emeralds.
He watched the two hedgehogs talking for a little while, but his attention all at once turned to a patch of darkness to his left. He had thought that he had been alone with the hedgehogs who stood around the corner and to the right of him, but now it appeared that there was a fourth figure. As he was spying, so too was he being spied upon, and this unnerved him because he did not consider himself to be an easy echidna to sneak up on. The mystery figure, to make things even creepier, seemed to have red glowing eyes. Knuckles locked eye contact with the two bright red crescents of light that silhouetted a figure obscuring itself in the shadows, and his mind raced as he tried to decide how he would escape this ambush. Fight or flight? His attention turned again to the hedgehogs, but they had vanished, moved away while he had been focused on the other figure. He turned again to the being in the shadows, but it too had disappeared, soundlessly and forgotten like a waking dream. He refused to acknowledge the nugget of fear that threatened to rise within him, but almost had to uproot himself before he could continue onward-
As he took a step forward, something grabbed him in a choke-hold from behind. A black-furred arm pulled him back into the darkness and wrapped around his waist. The sharp edge of a large knife was now pressed uncomfortably against his throat, positioned to slice his head half-off should his attacker wish it so. Realising instantly that he had been captured, Knuckles closed his eyes and puckered his lips in silent, helpless fury. The figure behind him had breath so rancid that he could smell it even when the attacker whispered in his ear.
"Where is he?"

Sonic saw Kethriel returning, and for a moment thought that he sensed somebody creeping up behind him, but put it down to nerves. When he looked back, nobody was there of course, and he scolded himself for being so foolish.
"There's something down that way," Kethriel told him, "It might be what we're looking for. Be careful, there might be SWAT-bots on guard around here. Or something else, for that matter. I'm not sure I want to find out what kind of monstrosity has glowing eyes and slinks around the corridors of Zero Seven. Come on, let's go."
The hedgehogs wandered into something that was quite clearly some kind of research facility, but to their disappointment it appeared to be disused. Dozens of computer terminals were lined up in rows but abandoned. Ambiguous machinery, the purpose of which couldn't be determined, was scattered about and left to rust. There were cobwebs and dust all over everything.
"It doesn't look like this place gets much attention," Kethriel said.
Sonic murmered a reply and looked about the room with a growing yet unexplainable interest. Something about this place stirred up his feelings. He couldn't be sure why.
Kethriel called him and told him that he found something interesting, and Sonic jogged over to find him, anxious for some explanation as to his reaction. Kethriel was staring into another room, a huge chamber with a very tall ceiling lined with scaffolding. Sonic was about to step inside to take a look, but his body froze up, refused to function as though the connection between his mind and body had been severed.
(no... i won't go back...)
What was this? His eyes wide and unblinking, Sonic stared into the chamber with what could only be described as a powerful and uncanny sense of sheer terror. His body trembled. He couldn't breathe.
"What's wrong, Sonic?" Kethriel asked him.
Sonic tried to stammer out a response. "I-"
(you can't make me go back in there)
The chamber was dominated by yet more machinery, but it looked almost like some kind of gymnasium. Sonic forced himself against every fibre of his being to step inside. One foot after the other, straining, like the air inside was too thick to move freely, and fighting the most intense fear he could ever remember experiencing outside of his dreams.
"Sonic?"
A conveyor belt was attached to one of the largest machines. It was no higher than the floor and about two meters in length. Sonic was terrified of this most of all, and was shocked to find that he knew every inch of this machine as well as he knew the shape of his own body.
"What is this place?" he demanded, glaring at Kethriel as though the other hedgehog held all the answers. Kethriel just shrugged, visibly distraught at Sonic's reaction.
Sonic looked back over the chamber and found that he was getting a headache. He brought a trembling hand up to shield his eyes and stumbled back toward the entrance, his resolve shattered.
"Sonic! Welcome back!"
This voice echoed down from above, and both hedgehogs looked upward to see a large shape staring down at them from the scaffolding. Neither of them had any difficulty recognising who it was. Ivo Robotnik grinned at them, his hands clasped atop the railing, his spectacles gleaming in the dim fluorescent light.
"Robotnik!" Kethriel exclaimed. The professor ignored his presence entirely and considered Sonic, who looked back up at him with confusion and terror.
"I have to admit," Robotnik said, "It certainly is a surprise, seeing you here again, after all these years. I thought I was rid of you for good."
"What are you talking about?" Sonic demanded, "Why do you know me? What is this place?"
Robotnik looked a little perplexed for a moment, as though he had been taken by surprise, unsure of how to respond. Then his grin returned, wider than ever.
"You don't remember? This really is fascinating. Do you recall anything? Anything at all?"
"I've never met you before in my life!" Sonic snapped, and although he couldn't say exactly why, he knew that it was a lie.
"Come now, Sonic, I can see the recognition in your face. Perhaps you just don't want to remember. Take a look around, see if anything jogs your memory."
"Sonic, what is he talking about?" Kethriel asked, but Sonic didn't hear him. His eyes traced the curves of the chamber, the way the light reflected off every defunct piece of machinery, and suddenly they seemed to burst to life, if only in his mind. He saw the treadmill spinning and saw himself atop it, running for his life but never moving anywhere. He saw the wires attached to his head, saw the ghosts standing around him, cold and emotionless, but they weren't ghosts at all, and in fact there was only one. They coalesced into a single being, and that being was Dr Robotnik.
"You do remember," Robotnik said.
"No!" Sonic exclaimed, and he looked up at Robotnik, looked past him. The wall behind the scientist was emblazoned with a giant, colourful symbol.
(/snakes/!)
The scientist laughed. The symbol on the wall bled directly into Sonic's brain. The red and the blue, twined together...
(/snakes/!!!)
But not snakes at all. The picture was of a strand of DNA, a ladder of tubes, one side red and the other blue, twisted in two places. Haunted by this image his entire life, Sonic instantly recognised it. At the moment his eyes fell upon it, the brick wall inside his mind that seperated his conscious mind from his memories exploded in a shower of dust and mortar.
/Crrrrrrrrack/!!!
And culminating with the worst physical and mental shock of his life, Sonic released a shrill scream and remembered everything.

"Where is who?" Knuckles asked his assailant. The unseen figure behind him was breathing heavily, each breath coming out in a rasp with the smell of rotting meat and cigarettes.
"The blue rat," the attacker replied, "And the mutant traitor."
"I have to warn you," Knuckles said, "I'm not the kind of guy you want to mess with. You better put the knife away now and maybe you won't get hurt."
"I'm calling the shots here," the attacker replied, and he moved closer, creating space between the inside of his elbow and Knuckles' chest. It was all the opportunity the echidna needed, and in a flash he brought his own arm up between himself and the assailant's forearm, twisted his body and disarmed his enemy. With a powerful kick he sent the other flying backward, and turned to face the fool who had the gall to take a blade to his neck.
The hostile figure was a bat with entirely jet black fur and a dark suit, like a moving shadow, his eyes, white collar and nail-like teeth distinctly standing out against the rest of his body. For a moment he looked terribly shocked and enraged that he had been bested, but quickly managed to choke it down and squeeze out a fake-looking grin. Knuckles, embracing the return of his upper-hand, produced the most menacing glare that he could manage. "I told you not to mess with me," he said, "Now you're gonna bleed, unless you want to start doing this my way."
"Whoa, whoa, hey there," the bat pleaded, "Hold your horses little buddy, you win, okay? I ain't never been the kind of guy who can't admit defeat. Just means I should have brought a bigger weapon."
"You just keep telling yourself that," Knuckles smirked, "Talk. Who are you? You're a Freedom Fighter, right?"
"A freedom-what-now? You got things all wrong, Red. I don't endorse freedom at all, that ain't my flavour at all. The name's Nails. I'm... well, you could say I'm an entrepreneur," he said, then thought a moment and added "Of many hats."
"Well what are you doing here?" Knuckles spat, "Do you work for Robotnik? For the prince? Are you just some guy with a deathwish? What the hell is your business creeping up on me and holding a knife to my throat?"
"Take a look in the mirror," Nails replied, "Shaking those big spiked fists in my face, shouting and scowling like a wounded beast. You work by the same principle that I do; that more often than not you need to instill a bit of fear to get answers. That's the way the world works, am I right? Being that you're the first living mobian I've seen in this dump since I got here, I thought you might be able to help me with my problem."
Knuckles was more enraged by his failure to intimidate, and by this stranger's smooth attempt to identify with him. But he wasn't sure what he could do that wouldn't simply reaffirm Nails' statement. "And what exactly," he asked, "is your problem?"
"I'm looking for somebody."
"The 'blue rat'? Sonic?"
Nails smiled again. "Precisely."
"What do you know about Sonic? Are you a part of his movement?"
"I ain't a part of anything, Red, all I know is he stole something from me. And it isn't even the thing itself that I miss if you know what I mean. It's the principle. Nobody steals from Nails the Bat, I'm at the top of the food chain and that's where I'm sticking around. Ain't nobody but nobody that's ever gotten away with swindling me."
"So you've got personal business with him. You don't know anything about Freedom Fighters or Chaos Emeralds?"
"You're speaking another language to me, Red. I don't care what he's into, all I know is I've got some unfinished business to take care of, and the world's gonna be less crowded when I'm through."
Knuckles lowered his guard a little, and stepped back enough to allow the bat to get back onto his feet. He still watched carefully to make sure he wasn't going to whip out another weapon.
"You followed him all the way here? You're a long way from civilisation."
"I have powerful contacts. There's nowhere on Mobius he can hide."
"Yeah, well," Knuckles said, "It seems like you're not alone. The hedgehog's been doing a lot of stealing from a lot of powerful people. He's after something that belongs to me, as well. I've been on his trail too."
"He travels with someone," Nails said, "A kid. A fox with two tails. The rotten traitor's the only reason the rat ain't dead yet, and I got my business with him too."
"Never seen him," Knuckles replied, "Right now he's just kicking around with some other hedgehog anarchist buddy of his."
"Interesting. I guess I'll just have to squeeze it out of him. Everyone has their breaking point, y'know." His grin widened, and Knuckles was overcome with how sleazy and artificial it was. "Hey," the bat said, "Why don't we help each other out? You're a mean looking number."
"No," Knuckles said flatly.
"Aw, come on," the bat pressed, "You know what they say about the enemy of my enemy."
"We have nothing in common, I don't trust you, as a matter of fact I don't like you."
"Trust," Nails hissed, and his expression darkened for a moment. "I could tell you a thing or two about trust, Red. It's nothing but an illusion created between the people who have power and the people who can help them get more power. Forget it, you don't need it. As for liking me, well, you probably wouldn't be alone with that opinion. You don't need that either. But as long as we both want a piece of this guy, we share a goal, an ambition, a vision of the future. We'll be helping each other whether we're working together or not."
"Fine then," Knuckles said, "Help me all you want, see if I complain. Just don't get in my way and don't pretend we're somehow in league. I don't work with anyone, I work alone. That's my position and it's not changing."
"Suits me fine."
"And bring a knife near me again and I swear I'll rip your lungs out."

There wasn't any dust in the Gene Room when Sonic was a child. The chamber was sterile, the machinery all clean and perfectly maintained. Sonic lay on his bed, staring up at that great big picture of the blue-and-red DNA strand posted above his head. It was the last thing he saw before he went to sleep, and the first thing he saw when he woke up in the morning. That picture haunted his dreams, and in his dreams it appeared as a couple of poisonous snakes taunting and threatening him. All his woes in the world were represented in this one image.
"Sonic," his master's voice commanded him, and the young hedgehog, sluggish from lack of sleep, dragged himself to his feet.
Robotnik sighed and pressed a button on his terminal. The cuff on Sonic's wrist suddenly delivered a powerful charge of electricity into him, flooring him immediately in a series of body-wracking spasms. When the punsihment ended, he shot back onto his feet as quickly as he was able.
"Now, why did I do that?" Robotnik asked.
"I was lazy," Sonic replied.
"That's right," Robotnik replied, "I want to see your potential at one hundred percent, Sonic, not twenty or ten. That's why you exist. What are you?"
"I am a nonperson. I have no right to life. I exist only to develop my potential."
"And what happens if you waste your potential?"
"I must be reprimanded."
"That's right. You disappointed me this morning, Sonic. If I see much more of this laziness, I might have to give up on you. And you know what that means. I'll let Silver inside your room and he'll tear you to shreds."
Sonic shivered and dared to meet the cold, static glare from the orange-eyed atrocity that followed Robotnik around. Silver (or The Shambler, as he had been unable to properly pronounce the thing's name in his infancy) was just about the most frightening thing in the world. He was an everpresent threat that Robotnik used against Sonic at any given opportunity, and Sonic was always careful to appease the beast and its master lest he experience a painful death on the end of the monster's claws.
"Now," Robotnik said, "Sonic, I want you to show me how fast your speed is developing. Don't try to put in a poor effort because I'll be able to tell, and it will make Silver very angry and I'm not sure I'll be able to stop him from bursting in there and killing you."
"Okay," Sonic said, and promptly moved to the treadmill where he knew he would be spending the next eight or nine hours of his day. It was a living hell, and every day he begged for either death or escape. Robotnik warned him constantly that attempting either would result in a particularly painful reprimand.
(now you see why you needed to forget this place)
The sterility of the Gene Room melted away before Sonic's tear-filled eyes, the chamber filling with dust and rot. He aged twelve or thirteen years in an instant, but his memories remained crystal clear to him as though they had happened minutes ago, or were still happening. Kethriel appeared at his side in a futile attempt at comfort, but Sonic's trauma was unspeakable, and he cried so hard he thought he might break apart.
"What have you done to him?" Kethriel demanded.
Robotnik, speaking from his safe position in the observation platforms, appeared flippantly amused. Something was standing beside him, now. A hideous jagged metal robot-thing with a sharp spike for a nose and orange spotlights for eyes. Sonic appeared much more terrified at the sight of it, and crawled backward on his hands and rear end.
"Over a decade ago," Robotnik explained, "I began a programme, kind of a personal study, into the nature of artificial intelligence and the self-consciousness of machines. My goal was to create the perfect assassin, a machine that would possess all of the benefits of a robot warrior, but one that would emulate, resemble, and even identify itself as a life form. Robots are more powerful and less vulnerable to damage than organics, but a machine has never been able to compete in the same league as a well-trained mobian when it comes to stealth, intelligence and improvised tactics." He smiled. "Until now."
"So what!?" Kethriel demanded, trying to offer Sonic a hand. Sonic battered it away, whimpered and covered his eyes.
Robotnik continued: "Silver here was my first attempt at a prototype, and was a failure. He is powerful, but he works on the principles of a machine. His tactics rely on a system of programmed responses and brute force. My realisation was that in order to make a machine that could emulate life, I would need to model it after life. I would have to stop trying to one-up Mother Nature and actually follow her designs. That is when I decided to create Sonic.
"Our friend Sonic is a mould, a blueprint, a model prerequisite to a design. I obtained him as an embryo, tweaking his genetic code so that he would possess the abilities I wished to incorporate into my assassin. Speed. Stealth. I designed his spindash ability as a natural defense that I could alter later in my final design. When the little rodent was born he came out bright blue. Genetics are fascinating, aren't they? I never quite found it as interesting as robotics, as building something with your own two hands and breathing life into it. Now that is power.
"I studied Sonic for years while he grew. I studied the way his joints moved, his instincts and impulses. He didn't enjoy our time together very much. That's just the price of progress, I suppose. When he was about six years old, I got careless and he managed to escape. It never bothered me very much because by that time I had already gathered the data I needed to complete my design. Did you hear that, Sonic? You have a sibling! His name is Mecha Sonic, and he is perfect."
"You're insane," Kethriel said.
"No!" Robotnik protested, "I am in touch with sanity, with rationality. It's you who wander about like some kind of flower-child preaching love and freedom like these things really exist in the world. You care about this spineless little aborted experiment in all his cosmic insignificance, and you'll live and die, having learned nothing. I don't even have the slightest desire to even begin to try to explain myself to you."
"You'll get what's coming to you!" the hedgehog insisted, "You and everyone else stupid enough to believe Martin's delusions of grandeur! You'll get what you deserve!"
"No," Robotnik replied, and smiled as though he had just heard an anecdote that was amusing without being funny, "I won't." He turned and walked in the direction from whence he had come, vanishing from sight. The jagged thing, Silver, The Shambler, watched the hedgehogs for a moment longer before following its master. Then there was nothing but the gentle sobbing of Sonic, his mind torturously complete.
"Sonic," Kethriel said softly, "Are you okay? Can you get up?"
Sonic mumbled something into his hands.
"Sonic, I know you're upset but we have to move, okay? This isn't a good place to be."
"I-" the blue hedgehog sobbed, and looked up at Kethriel with wet and bloodshot eyes, "I am a nonperson."
"What did you say?"
"I have n-no right to life. I exist o-on-ly to dev-elop my potential."
He pulled his body into a tight ball and lay on the cold floor of the Gene Room, the forgotten place where his life once had purpose.