#i also had tiny sticky notes i added when i used all the blank space for writing more of my thoughts

[sleepinginmygrave]

write my thoughts on the book if i'm feeling fancy, i mostly forget tho i only do it when something is marking me so much i have to grab a pen yk (except sometimes i have a pen close to me while reading, if i do i'll basically write on each pzge) i dogmark my pages a lot.... i never had a proper bookmark i think (for the book i'm reading rn i'm using an old biscuit wrapping paper so no dogmark!! yay) i czn't keep a book clean even if i really try, they all end up cracked and a bit dirty and all corned

wait tell me how you read books (eg. annotate in them, crack it, dogmark, proper bookmark, have a sheet of paper for thoughts, etc.) and i'll assign you a marauder character

[alphawave-writes]

Experimental Design chapter 3: Dominant

Synopsis: Robotnik and Stone must go on a mission to find the mysterious 'Black Dragon', but a few sexy encounters might give Robotnik a whole new perspective on 'torture'.

Read it here on or AO3. You guys can also find me on twitter @alphawave13.

If you like my writing, please do support me by buying me a ko-fi, becoming a patron on Patreon or requesting a commission from me.

I now have a discord server for the fanfic here! Check it out here for sneak peeks and insight into the creative process and more.

-

Robotnik said he'd have a punishment for Stone, but he didn't. Not for lack of trying. He had an entire list of potential punishments that he’d been stockpiling in encrypted documents, waiting for the day that Stone did something to warrant their use, but what punishment was suitable for ‘too much wriggling’? He tried to think of something, but Stone’s wriggling had seemed to seep his brilliant mind, distracting him from his work even when Stone was not physically present. This wasn’t the first time Robotnik’s thoughts had drifted to Stone. The agent had a way of getting into Robotnik’s head, but there was something almost insidious about the way Stone controlled his thoughts now, reminding him of that gentle smile and the strength of his impossibly warm hand as it gripped Robotnik’s shoulder.

He should've made better notes. As a scientist he prided himself above all else for his extensive note-taking, but it seemed the variables had increased. Robotnik didn't remember Stone ever smelling so good, but the faint musky scent of dollar-store perfume was enough to make his mind blank for just a moment. Robotnik had taken a sample from the air and traced the perfume to a cosmetics store in the nearby downtown area, but when he went to smell it for himself, it didn't smell nearly as good. In fact, it smelled exactly like how Robotnik expected dollar-store perfume to smell like.

He still bought it and tested it on himself, knowing enough about aromatic chemistry that the oils from his skin could alter the scent, but it still didn't smell nice. He should throw it away, but there was something about the scent signature that reminded him of Stone. With every inhale, memories of Stone's pouting lips and almond-shaped eyes resurrected, and those memories sent another spark of longing in his gut. Robotnik kept the bottle in his perfume cabinet next to all the expensive ones that he used on occasion. Just in case he got a spark of inspiration.

Luckily for Stone, Robotnik had no time to dole out his punishment. Today he had a task to perform, and he was certainly going to get it done now before it took any more precious time out of his busy, important life. Robotnik was only given vague instructions of where he needed to go and what he needed to find, but he was a genius with technology at his side. Finding people in this day and age was easy. In fact, it was so idiotically easy that he relegated Stone to find the address, who of course took his sweet time. At least he eventually found it before the end of the day, and he seemed to have fun with his little assignment judging from that massive grin that cut beautifully across his perfectly trimmed face.

"I've already put in the GPS coordinates in, and it will be a fifteen minute drive, doctor." He handed Robotnik a latte. "I also made you a drink. Your usual latte."

Robotnik huffed, though he couldn't help the smile that peeked out from underneath his moustache. Before he might go and say something remotely sentimental, he snatched the coffee out of Stone's hand and took a sip. As always, it was perfect. "This coffee is the one thing that has not disappointed me today." He pressed some buttons on his gloves and a tiny little chime could be heard, signaling that the mobile lab was now in motion.

Robotnik had just settled back to his computer when he felt Stone's presence behind him. Stone was wearing a different perfume, Robotnik realised, and this one smelled even nicer than yesterday's. It was muskier, with an hint of something woody, like sandalwood or cedar. It reminded him of Stone's gyrating hips yesterday, and the day before when Stone was on all fours in front of him, and then every other time he had forced Stone into an awkward or humiliating position.

A brief mental image flashed before his eyes, of grabbing Stone by the lapel of his jacket and pressing his nose down to his throat so he could finally, finally know the secret to that intoxicating scent of his. It was going to drive him crazy, threatening to undo the lines of logic that kept his mind running.

"Sir?"

Robotnik stirred, blinking away the image. He only just realised that his breathing rate and heart rate had increased slightly. He took another long sip of coffee to calm himself down. He made a mental note to add 'scent' to his list of variables for future experiments. "J-just annoyed about this task that buffoon Senator Walkie-Talkie put me on."

"You did insult his mother four times," Stone commented. "And his sister three times."

"His mother is a forest hag that eats children for breakfast, and his sister is a vacuous princess stuck on her fairy tale tower."

"Five and four," Stone smiled.

Robotnik rolled his eyes. "This is the first and last time I do that man's bidding. He may be providing me with some of my funding, but I refuse to be his dog. I'll do his silly little recon mission, but if he puts me on another task after today, I'm using the blackmail file." A sardonic chuckle escaped his lips. "When I'm through with him, the Panama papers will seem like a sticky note on a fridge."

"Or the Paradise papers," Stone added.

"I worked really hard on those two," Robotnik grumbled. "Uncovering all that dirt wasn't easy, even for a genius like me. Let's hope this next one actually does some serious damage."

Stone opened his mouth, no doubt ready to acknowledge his genius with that amazed face of his, or perhaps express his surprise at Robotnik’s involvement in these two world events, but then the mobile lab had rolled to the stop. Another chime. They’ve arrived at their destination.

The door rolled down, and Robotnik tip toed his way down, his polished brogues making an unpleasant crackle as they stepped on gravel. Stone was behind him as always, staring up at a neon sign for a nightclub called 'The Manor'. At least, it was a nightclub officially, but according to Senator Moby Dick, 'The Manor' had links to the seedy underbelly of the city, with a basement floor that was only accessible to those with the correct password. What occurred in the basement floor, the Senator did not say, but it was obvious that it offended his delicate sensibilities. Whatever it was, that was exactly where he needed to go. After all, the basement was where Robotnik could find the Black Dragon.

Just outside the entrance was a small line of guests in big coats and even bigger boots, waiting for their turn to be checked by the security guards. The line was progressing at an incredibly slow pace. At this rate, it'd take a good half hour before they'd get to the front.

Not if I have anything to say about it, Robotnik thought.

"Come on, Stone," Robotnik grumbled, pulling Stone by the arm all the way to the front of the line. He pretended not to see that look of soft surprise on Stone's face, lest he feel another way of confusing, ugly, human emotions.

The two guards at the entrance didn't look too pleased. They were bigger than Stone, with bigger muscles and even bigger sneers.

"Name?" The first asked.

"Why do you need my name?" Robotnik asked.

"Security," the second guard gruffly responded.

"Have you imbeciles been living under a rock your whole life? I'm Dr. Ivo R—" He was interrupted by Stone putting his hand in front of his mouth, stifling him.

Stone gave a polite smile as he said, "Stone and Reznik. We've got an appointment with the Black Dragon."

The first guard gave a quizzical look while the other one coughed nervously into his hand. Robotnik used the distraction to move Stone's distracting fingers away from his lips.

"We don't have all day," Robotnik snapped.

"Takes all sorts," the first guard mumbled as they checked them over for weapons before letting them pass.

Robotnik huffed, deciding at the last second not to scold these guards for their incompetence, and stormed on through to the reception. He was forced to pay an entry fee for both himself and Stone, and then had to suffer the absolutely humiliation of giving them his coat for safe-keeping. He liked his coats. Would've preferred to have them on his person, but at least he still had access to his most important gadgetry; namely the spy camera on his glasses and a few mini-badniks in his pocket, ready for deployment.

Stone gave his own suit jacket to the receptionist, revealing his surprisingly tight black shirt. It made sense that Stone would be muscular given his occupation. Not needlessly muscular like the oafs at the entrance. No, Stone's muscles were form and function, a well-rounded mix of type I and type II muscle fibres. Robotnik wondered what those muscles would look like in the flesh, without a pesky shirt to obscure them from the world.

Stone looked at Robotnik for a second before approaching suddenly, his face inches from Robotnik's nape.

Robotnik stiffened. "What are you doing?"

"Helping you blend in." Stone popped the first two buttons of Robotnik's shirt before taking a few steps back to admire his handiwork.

Robotnik didn't see how a few buttons could change his appearance, but at least Stone wasn't so close to him anymore. It wasn't the same when Stone was the one entering Robotnik's personal space. If this wasn't a public setting, Robotnik might punish Stone here and now. Given his way, he’d strip Stone down to just his underpants and have him parade himself throughout the club. But it was, and though many of his contemporaries claimed he lacked basic social understanding, even Robotnik knew his limits.

Judging from that small little smirk, Stone knew he was safe as well. "You look better like this, doctor."

Robonik's lips twitched, trying his hardest not to smile at the unwarranted compliment. "Of course I do. Now, let's get this over and done with, Stone."

They stepped through the curtained door to find themselves in the main area of the nightclub. Once upon a time, the nightclub used to be a factory, judging by its crude brick interior and vast open space, but at least they've done something to make it look more professional. There were bright lights, and a neon lit bar, and a dance floor with a DJ playing some atrocious modern club music.

It all looked like an ordinary club on first glance, but Robotnik prided himself on his observation skills and his tremendous IQ to spot things no common idiot would notice. The clientele was made up mostly of men, and some of these men made some dubious fashion choices, what with their leather garters and their gigantic boots. There was also a door at the end with a second set of bodyguards, asking for a code. Most people got turned away. That was where he needed to go.

Robotnik was about to tell Stone this, but the agent stared wide-eyed at the scene, as if transfixed by an unseen entity. Robotnik snapped his fingers, and Stone seemed to come to.

"You do remember what we're here to do, right?"

Stone's brows furrowed. "Sir, do you know what this place is?"

"Just answer the question."

Stone seemed ready to protest, but then he let out a quiet breath and seemed to regain his sensibilities. "We have to find the Black Dragon, and deal with them accordingly. The senator said it will become obvious what we need to do once we find them. Or it," he quickly added.

"I'm assuming you're not so much of an idiot that you couldn't sneak some fire power in."

Stone smirked as he pretended to check his shoes. He lifted his pant leg just enough for the end of a military-grade handgun to peek out. Stone glanced up at Robotnik, which reminded Robotnik of Stone on all fours and the strange mix of emotions that filled his chest and took ahold of his mind.

He had to say something. Anything. Robotnik knew this was going into some uncharted territory, and he was not going to explore it without a data pad to record results. "Why Reznik?"

Stone stood up properly. "Hmm? Oh, that. I just thought it sounds close enough to Robotnik."

"But you used your own surname," Robotnik pointed out.

Stone tilted his head. "You didn't actually think Stone was my real name, did you?"

"O-of course I know it's not your real name," Robotnik lied, because of course he never considered the idea that 'Stone' was a cover name. Agent Stone was just Agent Stone. He wasn't worth the neurons spent memorising his real name.

So then why was Robotnik now so insanely curious about Stone’s real name? What could fit this man better than Agent Stone?

Stone laughed his quiet, melodic laugh. "Maybe I'll tell you my real name some other day, Ivo."

Robotnik bristled. "I did not give you permission to call me Ivo."

"You can punish me some other time," Stone patted him condescendingly on the shoulder before pushing past the throngs of people.

Robotnik ignored the heat creeping up his chest as he followed Stone, shoving past half-naked men with leather straps on their chests to make his way to the bar.

The lone bartender was polishing empty beer glasses when Stone sat down at one of the stools. Robotnik grumbled to himself as he took the seat next to Stone, surveying the options of alcoholic beverages on display. He never liked alcohol personally. He claimed it was because it killed his brain cells, but the real reason was that he never liked the taste. That, and he refused to associate with those frat dudes from college who insisted that a keg stand was a true judge of mental and physical fortitude.

"Any drinks, gentlemen?"

"Water," Robotnik said.

"I'll have the same, thanks," Stone smiled, gracing the world with his pearly whites.

The bartender flitted about, filling two glasses with water from the tap before dropping them on two of the bar's coasters, the logo of the club printed in bold red. Stone was about to open his wallet, but Robotnik had already slapped a ten dollar bill on the counter and said, "I'm paying for both. And keep the change."

The bartender shrugged, while Stone stared at Robotnik. He tried not to glance back as he took a long gulp from his glass, wincing at the metallic aftertaste. He didn't see what the big fuss was. It was just money.

"I don't remember you lot," the bartender said. "You two new?"

"We are new," Stone said. "You wouldn't happen to know how we can get downstairs, would you?"

The bartender's brilliant blue eyes narrowed. "Why you asking?"

Stone paused for a few seconds, his tiny mind struggling to compute a reason as to why they wanted to go downstairs. Of course Stone would blow their cover already. He was strong and capable and a bit smarter than the average person, but he was still an idiot compared to Robotnik.

Robotnik was about ready to throw him a bone when Stone said, "We're a couple."

In Robotnik's defense, he did not spit his drink out. Even if he thought about doing it.

"A couple?" The bartender asked.

"Y-yeah." Stone found Robotnik's hand and entangled their fingers together, lifting them up so the bartender could see. It took all of Robotnik's willpower to not slap the hand away. He was starting to feel some funny things again. "It's our first time here, but our friends recommended we come here," Stone continued. "Said we should try the Black Dragon."

"The Black Dragon?" The bartender looked Robotnik up and down, not unlike how a judge would appraise a dog for a grooming competition. "I'm assuming you're the top."

"Of course I am the top. I'm always at the top," Robotnik replied.

The bartender stifled a laugh, while Stone looked away in embarrassment. What was wrong with what he said? It was a perfectly true statement.

"You two are some weirdos, but then again this place kinda caters to your bunch." The bartender shook his head. "If you've got an appointment, I guess you must be alright. Just head to the door on the opposite side over there and tell Terry that Matt approves."

“Thanks,” Stone said.

Robotnik downed his glass of water in one fell swoop and stood up, not bothering to wait for Stone. He heard Stone scramble to finish his drink before jumping out of his seat.

“Hey, wait up, sir.”

"Enough of these games," Robotnik growled.

"You're making a scene," Stone said.

Robotnik stopped, swiveling sharply on his heel. “Me? You've been subjecting me to ridicule ever since we got here. Pretending we’re a couple? Unbuttoning the top two buttons of my shirt? Why not just kiss me right on the lips like this is some trashy yaoi manga from the late 90s? That'll really seal the deal, wouldn't it?”

A strange look flickered through Stone's eyes, a flash of lightning before the horrendous thunder. Robotnik only realised he had made a mistake when the thunder hit, and Stone's expression turned dark and cold, a storm brewing behind pitch black irises. “Sir, if I may, this is supposed to be a espionage mission.” He gestured at their surroundings. “Do you know what this place is?”

“Do you think I’m an imbecile? I know very well this is a nightclub.”

“A gay nightclub,” Stone pointed out.

Robotnik went silent for several seconds. His face betrayed no emotion, even as his racing mind struggled to conjure up a response. Looking now at the other clubgoers, it explained most of the peculiarities. It should have been obvious. In hindsight, it was very obvious. Clearly, Stone was distracting him. That had to be it.

Stone smirked knowingly. “You didn’t even consider that possibility.”

“W-why should I?” Robotnik spat.

Stone let out a small sigh. “Doctor, if I may, you are a genius, but I have more experience with this line of work. If we want to go through this mission without incident, we need a cover identity.” He took Robotnik's hand in his own. "We're just blending in. No one will bother us, and no one will ask questions."

Robotnik bit back a frown. He never really liked people touching him. People that did touch him were usually out to harm him in some way. At least, it was true when he was just a child. Stone, however, would not hurt a fly. Robotnik had often wondered why Agent Stone was so highly commended when he was such a pacifist. The main reason why he chose Stone as his assistant was because all his superiors feared the man. But why would they fear such a simple, well-meaning idiot?

He stared at their conjoined hands, then at Stone's expectant face. It was such a stupid expression that he couldn't help but smile a little bit. "If this goes badly, I'm blaming you."

"It won't," Stone smiled. "Trust me."

Despite what little he knew about Stone, Robotnik did trust him. Not that he'd ever say it out loud.

They walked hand-in-hand to the door leading downstairs. The people who used to stare at him had now turned their head away, unconsciously confirming Stone's theory. Robotnik had to admit, it seemed to work, and he didn't have to shove his way through sweaty simpletons either.

The two bodyguards were somehow even bigger than the ones at the entrance, their muscles so big and bulging that Robotnik was sure they were both abusing anabolic steroids.

They glanced Robotnik and Stone over. "Password?"

"Which one of you is Terry?" Stone asked dumbly, even though it was clear by the name tags that the first one was Terry.

"It's our first time here, we've got an appointment with the Black Dragon, yada yada. Matt at the bar said he approves."

The first bodyguard—Terry—blinked rapidly, but stepped outside, having at least enough common courtesy to pull the curtain back for the doorway so they could pass through. Robotnik and Stone followed down the narrow stairs lined with lush red velvet, taking the stairs one step at a time. It was dark, with barely enough light from the lightbulbs above their heads. On one side was a hand-rail, while the other had a variety of different posters talking about different acts. It was a lot of men dressed in various leather gear, holding something. What that something was, Robotnik couldn't tell with the low lighting, but he felt that familiar heat creep up his chest, a feeling he now associated with Stone and experiments and punishments.

It took Robotnik a few seconds to realise he was still holding Stone's hand, and wretched it out of the man's grasp. He made a show of wiping his glove on Stone's shirt before sticking his hands into his pockets. Another strange look passed over Stone's face.

"Do you know what the Black Dragon is?" Robotnik asked.

"No. I thought you did, sir."

"Senator Will-they-won't-they didn't tell me anything, and obviously by that statement, I assume you've also found nothing. I would've thought I'd see some hint or trail about this elusive Black Dragon by now, but there's nothing. Just cryptic garbage that means nothing to us. No poster, no gossip. Nothing." Robotnik felt his eyes narrow, his fingers twitching inside his pockets, as they often did when he was frustrated.

Stone turned to Robotnik. "I know that look, sir. There's something on your mind."

"This isn't right, Stone," Robotnik said. "The circuit is incomplete. There's a missing connector preventing the current from running through my massive mind."

"I'm sorry?"

"We're either missing something, or there's something more nefarious at work. Much as I despise the illogical expression, I have a gut feeling it is the latter." Robotnik glanced at the bottom of the staircase, the sound of murmured chatter echoing. "Keep what little wits you have about you. We could be entering danger."

Stone smiled. "I think we can handle it, sir."

At the bottom of the staircase was a final door. A sign that simply said 'the basement' hung in front. The door was slightly ajar, letting in a slip of noise and light. There was no music, but there was laughter and chatter, and the whooshing sound of a thin object travelling at high velocity. Stone offered to open the door, but Robotnik shoved past and opened the door for himself, letting it swing open.

Of all the things he expected, an almost-naked man getting whipped on their bare ass by a man in a latex bodysuit was not one of them.

Robotnik walked forward slowly, trying to take in the menagerie of leather-bound men participating in what looked like a convention of sorts. There were stalls, and exhibitions, with almost-naked performers tied up in elaborate ways with crimson rope, or strapped to devices and left in vulnerable positions, all but exposing their most sensitive parts to the world. People chatted mindlessly while tugging on the enlarged pet collars of men on all fours, or leading others with blindfolds and ball gags up and down the strips between the stalls like it was a parade. There were handcuffs, and leg cuffs, and ankle cuffs, and a variety of clothing that restricted limbs.

This wasn’t just a gay nightclub, Robotnik realised. It was a BDSM nightclub. A festival of torture for the delight of others. A place of limitless punishment, with the tools of the trade up for sale.

“Uh, sir?”

Robotnik could easily imagine using these implements for his own methods of punishment. Stone had been quite disrespectful of late, and these people were so obedient even in the face of humiliation. He could chain him up, or cuff him up, or tie him up, or strap him down. For once, Robotnik had to admit defeat. His punishments seemed almost laughable compared to these artisans and their gadgets. His ideas were so narrow-minded, so childish, but this scene before him had introduced him to a whole new world of torture.

A swell of excitement filled his bones. His mind was suddenly swimming with ideas. There were so many ways he could punish Stone, and they were right there, hidden beneath the veneer of public decency.

“S-sir,” Stone repeated.

Robotnik shook his head. “C-come on, don’t just gawp like a fish out of water,” Robotnik said, acutely aware that his excitement was creeping into his voice.

They surveyed the stalls and the products they had on offer. Smack dab in the middle, strangely enough, was an information booth, where a bored-looking young woman in a leather bikini and spiked thigh-high boots sat. When they approached, she perked up, the picture of customer service friendliness.

“How may I help you gentlemen?”

“The Black Dragon,” Robotnik huffed. “Do you know where it is?”

The lady smiled pleasantly, although there was a glimmer of mischief in her eyes. “Got a group appointment?”

“Of course we do, otherwise we wouldn’t be asking. Just tell us who the Black Dragon is, and where we can find them.”

The lady giggled into her fist. “Oh darlin’, it’s not a person, it’s…you know what, I’ll let y’all see it for yourselves.” She pointed toward the back. “Right at the end, you can’t miss it. Oh, and enjoy the ride for me, will ya?” She winked.

They followed the woman's instructions, heading deeper to the back. The further they went, the more serious it got. Where people were dressed provocatively near the front, at the back they were all but naked. Genitals and private parts were on full display, alongside more hardcore BDSM gear like chastity gear and clamps. Robotnik tried to avert his eyes but it was getting increasingly difficult. Suddenly he was glad his jacket was back at the entrance, because he was sure he'd be sweating. Even calm and collected Stone looked a bit hot under the collar, glancing furtively between the different implements, keeping his head turned away from Robotnik's direction. Robotnik was kinda glad he wasn't the only one feeling awkward here, even if he felt a little disappointed that Stone wasn't looking at him.

At the literal back was a small crowd observing what looked to be a performance. A proprietor in what could only be described as a sexy ringmaster costume was manipulating what appeared to be a robot in the shape of a limbless mannequin. It would've looked identical to any mannequin in a store, except for the jelly-like material it was made of, and the fact that it was sporting a gigantic cock, complete with fake veins. With the click of a button, the robot moved, repeating a motion like a trinket in a music box. There was something attached to the mannequin, Robotnik realised, near its bottom. Something long and thick and dark as ebony.

He pushed past the crowd, coming close enough to read the sign. The show was for a store that sold sex toys. There were dildos at various price ranges, each with their own length and circumference measurement to the side, as well as a 'performance' price for if people felt brave enough to try them out in front of an audience. Their biggest and most intimidating one? A dildo by the name of the Black Dragon.

Amidst the cacophony Robotnik heard a click. On the opposite side of the stall, just barely in sight, a man had his phone up. By his side Stone tensed suddenly. A second passed as Robotnik's gaze connected with the stranger.

Then, the stranger ran.

"After him!" Robotnik ordered.

Stone didn't need to be told twice. He shoved through the throngs of people, Robotnik following shortly behind him. A few clicks of the buttons on his gloves, and the mini-badniks spilled from his pockets, hovering near the ceiling, tracking the stranger down. Robotnik was never a fast runner, but he didn't think he was a clumsy runner either. And yet he was like a newborn baby compared to Stone with his perfect form, the likes of which an olympic athlete would be jealous of. And those eyes, normally so soft, now sharp like blades and dark as the night. Dangerous.

Stone had almost lost track of the man as they darted through stalls, but Robotnik could see him through his scouting badniks. "2 o'clock, red door," he called out.

They sped forward, nearly colliding with a man in a full latex suit, as the stranger shoved the door open, Stone and Robotnik following shortly behind. It was clearly supposed to be a private room of sorts, with two naked men making out on a very plush bed. They screamed, but a single glance at the badniks made them pile their clothes up and hurry out. As soon as they were out of the room, Stone closed the door behind him and locked it shut.

The stranger pressed a finger to their ear. "Code Orange, I repeat, code oran—gaagh!" Robotnik pressed a few buttons on his gloves and the little speaker in their ear buzzed and fizzed, making them scream in pain.

A wicked grin spread across Robotnik's face. "Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide, Little Red Riding hood," Robotnik said, his face pleasant even as his words dripped with venom. "Senator Thickhead couldn't bother to lift his pinky toe off the floor for one second, so he got you to do the job? What was it, blackmail? Murder?"

Instead of answering, the man pulled out a gun. A second later and Stone pulled out his own gun with military efficiency. They both flicked the safety off at the same time.

"John Stevenson," Robotnik uttered. He knew he had the man when their eyes widened in horror. "Think I don't know who you are? A minute ago, you would've been right, but from that itty bitty little spider in your ear, I've now got your whole life in front of me. Two kids and a wife? I wonder if they know what you do."

John grimaced, pressing his free hand to his ear. "Code Orange, I repeat, code orange!"

"Don't bother, no one can hear you. And any incriminating images on that phone are gone already. That's what you get for trying to go against a genius like myself." The phone made a whining sound, and then what sounded like a cackle. It was completely unnecessary to do, but it was worth it for the look of horror that flashed in John's pitiful, ugly eyes.

John's gaze flickered between his gun and Stone. Slowly, he moved his gun, training his aim at Robotnik instead. His hand was shaking, but from this distance there was still a 70% of getting shot. Robotnik's moustache twitched slightly, the only tell he would show as his heartbeat raced and his breathing quickened.

Unfortunately for Robotnik, he was still human. Despite the near limitless knowledge at his disposal, despite the fact that he had the upper hand, even he feared death.

"H-he told me he wanted to get rid of you," John stammered. "And I will. So stand down!"

"You shoot me, and I'll make sure your life is so miserable you'll make Bridge to Terabithia seem like a comedy. From the grave or the hospital, my robots will destroy you so completely and utterly that there won't even be enough of you for your family to cremate into a bottle cap. You are nothing, and you will be nothing in life and death when I'm finished with you."

John's eyes suddenly went dark, and the air shifted. It reminded Robotnik of when the music cut out when playing a visual novel, the world drowning out until there was only himself, and John. The mini-badniks weren't cut out for combat. He didn't have any weaponry that was faster than a bullet. His options dwindled by the microsecond.

Robotnik could count on one hand the mistakes he'd made that he could say were completely and utterly his own. Unlike the very, very few he had made in his life, he would pay the ultimate price for this one.

"I'll take the risk," John said emotionlessly.

Robotnik closed his eyes as he heard the sound of a single gunshot. For what felt like an eternity, he waited for the searing heat and the merciless pain and the cynical laughter of the Devil, but instead he felt a draft as a shadow blocked the soft lights above. He opened his eyes, and Stone was in front of him, smoke billowing from his gun. John collapsed onto the ground, blood oozing from his shoulder to the floor. Reality flooded back as Robotnik heard the commotion outside, people screaming in fear as they raced up the stairs.

He should care about how they get out of here, of the bleeding body on the floor, but instead all he cared about was his own reflection glittering in Stone's soft eyes, frazzled and vulnerable. The last time he remembered looked like this was back at the Orphange decades ago. He never thought he'd resemble that brat ever again, in a gay BDSM club of all places.

"Are you alright, doctor?" Stone asked softly.

He wanted to say yes, because obviously he had not sustained any damage, and obviously this wasn't his first time seeing a dead body. He should say it, and get the hell out of here. But instead he was quiet, staring into the eyes of a man he thought he knew, but didn't. After all, Stone never looked so intense before, with that dark, unyielding stare. Those were the eyes of a merciless killer. A man who has no doubts or hesitation. And that man saved Robotnik's life.

Robotnik jerked his head away. "D-d-don't just stand there and play with your moisturized thumbs. Let's get out of here."

A small, relieved smile played on Stone's lips as he flipped the safety back on. "Right away, sir."

As they joined the crowd and blended in with the sea of black, being jostled and shoved as people scrambled for the entrance, Stone reached for Robotnik's hand, gripping tightly. Robotnik decided not to punish Stone for touching his hand without express permission. Not this time.

Senator Willingham woke up in a sterile room he did not recognise. Tiled white walls and tiled white floors surrounded him. As he tried to move, he suddenly realised that he couldn't. His hands and his legs were strapped to a chair.

When he got used to the light and opened his eyes, Robotnik was before him, a vicious sneer on his cruel, uncaring face. He expected some childish insult, some boast about his intelligence. Instead, Robotnik silently put his hand out to Agent Stone, who produced a folder from his jacket. Robotnik's eyes did not leave Willingham as his fingers skimmed through the folder, taking out a single sheet of paper. He pulled it out with a flourish, and spun it around for Willingham to see.

A cold sweat dripped down his forehead. His face was pale.

"Do you know what this is?"

Willingham let his lips dip, but said nothing.

"That is you, just last week at the nightclub, getting pissed on by two well-known male escorts." His lips curled up into a sinister smile. "Always thought the only subject you ever passed in school was urine."

"What do you want?" He spat.

Robotnik put the picture back in the folder and got dangerously close. "I'll say this so simply, even an utter idiot like you could understand. You'll increase your funding by exactly 50%; that's a 50% increase. You'll let me do my job without your thoughtless intervention. Most importantly, you'll never try a stunt like last night on me, or my agent, ever again. I find out you attempt to blackmail me, or murder me, or do anything that affects me in a negative way, and I will leak this, as well as every sordid, detestable thing you've ever done. You'll be ruined in an instant." Robotnik leaned back upright. "Do you understand me? Or do I need Stone to dumb it even further down to you?"

"You are a maniac," Willingham rasped.

Robotnik straightened up, a darkness that threatened to block out all light. His smile shifted into something that seemed almost pleasant. Something that looked a lot like excitement.

"You know, I must give you credit, you did introduce me to such a lovely place. After all, it opened me up to a whole new world of punishment." A small swarm of egg-shaped robots appeared behind him, pointing their at Willingham's chest. "And you're the lucky man that gets to be my first guinea pig."

Senator Willingham may not have been smart or observant, or anything special in the brain department, but he saw the slightest shift in Stone's eyes as he stared at his boss with admiration, and something much more intense. He'd seen that look before, back at The Manor on the most willing and obedient of submissives. It was the look of a hungry predator masking themselves as prey, thinking about all the different ways it can consume or get consumed. And that look was directed at Robotnik, while the doctor was too busy fiddling with his robots.

I always wondered why he stuck with that vile man, Senator Willingham thought. Perhaps there really is something more going on with those two.