Stone has memorized the Robotnik Manifesto word for word, section for section. It includes reminders of how to make proper use of the lowly human cogs surrounding him, how to set up the emergency lab and the Doctor’s home gym, how to lie in wait until Robotnik’s inevitable return.
It does not, however, include much in the way of instructions for retrieving the Doctor from wherever it is he's ended up. Why would it? For all his brilliance, even Robotnik couldn’t possibly have anticipated before all this that he would have disappeared not only from the government’s radar, but from the face of the planet itself. This Manifesto-- an absolute lifeline in the face of the chaos that had erupted in Stone’s life after the incident in Green Hills-- simply isn’t... complete.
Agent Stone thrives on clear, direct instruction. He sometimes wonders if that’s how he’s managed to remain in Doctor Robotnik’s employ for so long; much like the scientist’s precious machines, when given the proper direction, Stone almost always follows through with a crisp, competent precision. Or at least, he likes to think he does. But he’s not a robot, and he can only stand so many months of waiting and worrying before he decides to take matters into his own hands and break protocol, ignoring the Manifesto’s guidance to sit tight and let Robotnik handle his return alone.
As Stone begins the most important project of his life, he’s pleased to realize he’s picked up something from years of hanging around the smartest person alive. It’s not enough to make fixing up the Doctor’s old prototype transport tech easy by any means, but with the badniks assisting and months of uninterrupted time in which to work and fail and keep going, he finally manages... something.
ʀᴏʙᴏᴛɴɪᴋ, ɪᴠᴏ. ꜱᴛᴀᴛᴜꜱ: ᴀʟɪᴠᴇ. ʟᴏᴄᴀᴛɪᴏɴ: ᴄᴏɴꜰɪʀᴍᴇᴅ.
Stone never doubted for a moment that the Doctor had survived his months of exile, but seeing it written out right there in the soft red glow of the console makes relief catch almost painfully in his chest; despite awaiting this moment for so long already, Stone finds himself taking a few more seconds to himself just to steady his breath and calm the rush of emotion threatening to break the composure he insists on maintaining even now for no one’s benefit but his own.
The transport device lacks the elegance of classic Robotnik tech. It’s shaped like a large ring, its edges rough and finished with ugly roughened steel instead of sleek white casing. More worryingly, there’s a persistent error in the readouts that Stone hasn’t been able to fix no matter how hard he tries-- even after feeding the machine the Doctor’s profile upwards of half a dozen times, the console still seems to think Robotnik is currently existing in multiple places at once. But some of these signals are stronger than others, and with the reassurance that their sources are at least currently alive, Stone has decided to simply go for it and start with the clearest signal he can find. It is Robotnik waiting on the other side of this transport, he just knows it is. It has to be.
The machine powers on with a groan, its amateurish construction shuddering as it begins to suck up every ounce of power it can from the lab, then from the cafe as a whole, and then from the entire town of Green Hills.
A circular tear opens up in the air before Stone, and as the lights of the lab flicker and die, he knows he doesn’t have much time.
“Doctor!” he shouts into the portal, but all he sees is unfamiliar metal and a flash of red that he can only hope belongs to the old flight suit. Robotnik isn’t immediately stepping through, and urgency turns to something more like panic. The readout said the scientist was alive, not necessarily healthy-- he could be disoriented or injured, unable to drag himself through the portal on his own before the machine loses power altogether.
Not wasting a moment of the precious time he has left, Stone ducks through the opening just long enough to grab onto that red fabric and the arm it’s covering and yank both himself and the other man back to safety.
The roar of the machine cuts off in a shower of sparks and the crash of metal collapsing onto itself. Stone breathes hard into the suddenly-still air, letting go of the other man’s sleeve to instead grab onto a badnik floating nearby as he struggles to catch his balance. For a moment, his vision is filled with the comforting red optic of the badnik supporting his weight, but as the agent whips his head up to focus on the other human in the room, he finds himself looking instead into a set of mirrored lenses belonging to--
“...you are not Doctor Robotnik.”
