Chapter Text
"Could anyone explain why my beautiful, perfect machine, is having trouble competing with a middle-aged man?!", he growled to no one, his lab empty aside from the aforementioned machines that glowed, hummed, and stood still, unable to answer.
Robotnik tossed his cup of coffee into the bin under the table, nose twitching as he scowled at the modified espresso machine that was supposed to deliver him with a perfect latte, cappuccino, or at the very least a decent cup of coffee.
Instead, it had failed to reach his expectations, the lattes Agent Stone made for him being far better in almost every way.
It made him angry, to be frank, that his machine couldn't yet achieve perfection, because Robotnik accepted nothing less when it came to his creations.
It also made him miss his Agent or at the very least the beautiful, energizing lattes that the Agent made for him.
It was only Wednesday, and he had a good five days left of Stone's mini-vacation.
He would do fine without the man, he knew that, but his absence was an inconvenience to his usual and structured schedule.
All because something was causing Agent Stone to struggle, and Robotnik couldn't know. Stone "couldn't tell him."
He grumbled and aggressively pushed in the order for another latte, changing a few measurements before turning around and pulling up his work for the day on his glove. A hologram appeared above his wrist and he checked over his assignments as he reached out with his other hand and grabbed the cup now steaming with coffee.
Weapons, weapons, blah, blah--could the government give him one challenge? Just one. His most prized and creative badniks came from his own plans. Of course, they did, though, these small-minded plebians ran on one track until the day they died, unable to see the potential in Robotnik's mind.
That was another reason why he found Agent Stone...bearable.
The man was always looking to expand his knowledge, grasping onto every word he spoke, every machine, seeing the beauty in Robotnik's work, even if it wasn't made for dear, Uncle Sam.
He closed the list before taking a sip of his drink and sighed out of his nose in disappointment at the taste.
He was not making another one, this would have to do.
With a few taps of his fingers, his beautifully crafted machines began working on the orders themselves, no need for him to get his hands dirty, and he sat down in his chair to pull up his other projects.
As he scanned through his blueprints, he became distracted as a new filegroup showed up by the first, this one belonging to security footage and tracking devices.
He flicked through previous Agent names, rolling his eyes at the memories of some, and swiped again until the security footage was right in front of him, dates lined up perfectly, waiting for a tap from his fingers.
He hardly ever reviewed footage unless he needed to replay a lab accident, or he was suspicious of one of those government lackeys trying to swipe something from him.
However, as he stared at the files, a figurative lightbulb went off above his head.
It wouldn't be spying, not necessarily.
It wouldn't be crossing a line, no, because if Stone didn't want him to know he shouldn't be in sight of the many cameras littered around his workplace.
He doubted he'd even find anything of interest, right?
Yes, yes. And if not, than that would be a pleasant surprise.
And he was curious.
He slowly tapped at the footage from last week, and blinked, adjusting to the sudden light, as multiple video shots were brought up for him.
A view of the lab, halls, and break room.
So many views, many little worker ants, even himself, and oh, yes, there was Stone.
Preparing two latte's, oh, how ironic, he huffed as he took another sip of his drink.
He leaned in, watching little Agent Stone prepare and finish the drinks.
He'd be taking them straight to the lab from here, he knew.
Except, oh, "What have we here?", Robotnik mumbled aloud as he watched Agent Stone take a right into a hallway that was supposed to be closed for renovations.
And by renovations, he meant he had blown up a good portion of that area with a mini-missile prototype.
Why would he be making his way over there, hm?
The man stepped over the caution tape and went into one of the rooms that took minimal damage.
Robotnik looked to the bottom of the mini-screens and was disappointed to find the footage for that room, had been filmed with a camera that had been damaged.
There was a crack through the screen, indicating a broken lens, and the edges were fuzzy, quality subpar, but at least Robotnik could make out most of what was in the room.
He leaned in even closer as Stone set the coffees down on a metal table and sat down in a chair of the same design.
The man ran a hand through his short black hair, and his other hand came up to gingerly rub the material of his shirt collar.
Robotnik could tell the man on the screen was trying to self-soothe, having been trained to pick up on micro-expressions and mannerisms for interrogation purposes.
This did not shock him.
What did shock him was why the agent would feel the need to isolate himself in a dangerous area to do it.
He could have gone into a bathroom, at the very least.
He continued to watch the man, rubbing his chin as he attempted to pick up on every little detail through the grubby camera lens.
Stone must have assumed the camera was broken, Robotnik concluded, as he watched Stone's leg start to bounce.
Whatever thoughts he was having at the time, it must have been eating him up, his body was attempting to calm him down as he--
Robotnik's eyes widened as the agent snuck his hand up to his face and stuck his thumb into his mouth.
Robotnik blinked a few times, tapping a few buttons on his gloves to zoom in on the footage.
Yes, there was no denying it.
The man had his thumb in his mouth like a child, eyes shut, and brows drawn down as he hugged himself with his other arm.
Robotnik tilted his head, watching the display with a mixture of curiosity and mild frustration.
Curiosity, because this was obviously another self-soothing tactic, and frustration, because his agent was alone, in a dingy room, soothing himself like a child, and this all happened just last week, and he still didn't know why!
Stone must have gone into the room out of fear of someone discovering his unusual tactic, yes, right.
Robotnik could see how his colleagues would respond to something like that. To Robotnik, it didn't faze him, far too above everyone to be concerned with what others thought or did, but for Stone, he must feel shame. Guilt, perhaps?
This... thumb-sucking thing must be a puzzle piece in the bigger picture.
It went hand in hand with what Stone was too afraid to share with him.
He had an inkling about what that something could be, but he needed more evidence before coming to any conclusions.
His afternoon was clear anyway, and this mystery was getting under his skin.
It was time to visit Agent Stone.