/ E-P-I-L-O-G-U-E- /

A new day was dawning over the verdant rainforest of the Mystic Ruins, but within the poisonous gray lands that surrounded Final Egg, a fog of permanent darkness seemed to hang. Each day the stink of spilled oil grew and the ring of withering trees spread, while the soil saturated with toxins. There was no life here.

In the secret bunker it was constant twilight – eternal black with only shadows of green phosphorous to guide the various robots maintaining the emergency shelter. On a floor far deeper than Rouge had dared to explore, four mechanical appendages clinked down the hallway, and a small, twitchy robot like a red crustacean scampered through the subterranean tunnels.

Infantry bot GNI-01, R23 Mk II was obsolete by many years. His code-name matched the unit designation of his kind: Crabmeat. But he was not like those old sentries of his Master's first coup, no. Mk II. He was upgraded – endowed with artificial intelligence and capable of independent and highly advanced thought.

The boxy robot with eyestalks and pincers was one of several "administrative units" created to monitor outposts in the absence of their Master. Crabmeat's first command was a sea-bound research facility, where he adapted to routine and efficiency, and where he learned to cower whenever a raging, short-tempered organic dictator visited to inspect and chastise his work. Crabmeat kept himself lowly, and he survived.

After the ARK Incident, and the further encryption breakthroughs on Gerald Robotnik's diary, the little red robot had been entrusted with greater responsibility. Now he was curator of Final Egg's emergency sub-base, where under his watch, projects of utmost importance had grown.

Proximity alert! Another badnik raced down the hallway with great velocity, and Crabmeat leapt for the walls to dodge, pincers aflutter. He tried to steady his out-of-control motors. Had he still been equipped with the weapons of his predecessors, Crabmeat would have unleashed a burst of lasers from his vice-like appendages. Alas, he was stripped bare, and could only do his best to control the reflexive maneuver when it popped up. Master had learned to be wary of robots with both intelligence and ammunition.

He did his best to override the high-strung defensive protocols, processing that his Master was not sending a war-mech to exterminate him for failure. The passing robot was just one of janitorial staff – insectile drones automated to clean their allotted sector according to an internal timer.

The bug was moving far earlier than programmed, but that was not unexpected, given the destruction rampant around the base. In the event of such unscheduled and uncleanly disasters, individual scarab bots could be manually controlled, and guided towards whatever unwanted mess crept into a facility…

Crabmeat arrived at a tall, impressive door, which opened at his motions. He had some most wonderful news to report.

Light spilled forth in the abundant rays humans enjoyed. Crabmeat adjusted his stalk-eyes and scuttled in to the vast and lavish sanctum prepared for the man of many titles: The Terrorist; The Doctor; The Mastermind Behind The Robot-Related Attacks. Crabmeat called him Master, and the darkness beyond centered on the glory that was Robotnik.

His visage was everywhere: stamped into the floor, draped in velvet over the walls and flashing on the computer monitors. An enormous throne was mounted on a podium above the inner sanctum, and powerful spotlights kept it in constant brilliance. Everything beyond was fenced off in darkness – unworthy to share in His perfection. An icy blue illuminated the servant at the border of this radiance.

The chair rotated to address the intruder. Behind Crabmeat, the doors clanged shut, locking him inside. The spineless crustacean let his pincers chatter nervously.

The Lord seated in the throne was a shock of a sight. It mattered little whether he transmitted from a towering television or a thundering loudspeaker – he was every bit terrifying and intimidating in person. In the center of the room sat an enlarged, yet perfect physical replica of the legendary scientist Gerald Robotnik. This carefully tailored double tapped an electronic data-pad on his armrest, clearly displeased.

"That was quite a bit of noise up there," he remarked, with a slight gesture to the ceiling and battle-scarred floors overhead. His commanding voice bit through the skittish robot with snarling accent. "I do hope it was worth the damage."

A strobelight shot down Crabmeat's tiny body, pinning him at the witness stand. His pincers quivered despite the success of the times. Master always made him quiver.

"Your Excellence," he began, in his usual flourished speech. "I am pleased to announce that, thanks to your unparalleled brilliance and improvisation, we have accomplished a great advancement. As you predicted, and with some incentive, the intruder discovered this facility."

The Doctor gave no reaction. He exhaled in a slow and thoughtful stillness. "You didn't let her escape too easily, did you?"

"Your Brilliance, I dispatched the entire garrison to impede her way! It was no small feat to exit this emergency shelter."

His Master nodded, and gave his excessive moustache a contemplative twirl. Crabmeat grew more and more unsteady – The report was producing no change in demeanor. A rapid clicking jerked through the air while The Doctor continued a quiet consideration of the events. The tiny bot cringed, fearing great displeasure once he delivered the other news.

Master finally spoke. "So, my Messenger has been set loose?"

Crabmeat leapt at the chance to spout his accomplishments. "Your Exaltedness, Project Infection has come to an unscheduled, unexpected and complete success!"

A small, but satisfied nod. "He won't remember anything, will he?"

"No, your Wondrousness! Not until the implants are deactivated."

Again, Master nodded, still thinking. This was some measure of compliment, and Crabmeat computed that now was the time to ease in his other news.

"Sire," he paused to silence his claws, but that was beyond conscious control now. "Sire … before we could divert her, she did make an additional theft. She … she took the experimental unit."

"HA!" His Master's laughter was like a gunshot and Crabmeat jumped and hid his eyestalks in his pincers. This was it – this was the end! Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear!

The laughter tapered down to a small, controlled chuckle. "What luck!" he cackled. "To think – even now that she's betrayed me outright, that treacherous leech can still do my work!"

Carefully, cautiously, Crabmeat swiveled an eyestalk to check for impending doom. Master continued, ignorant to his presence.

"Never did I imagine it would be Rouge! And so soon! I thought we'd have to dump Him somewhere for that hedgehog to discover…"

Crabmeat tested the waters with a compliment. "Your foresight is unparalleled, your most Infallibleness."

But his Master just kept going – snared by his own brilliance. "Yesss, yes, it's not what I had in mind … but she is the perfect carrier! There's no question: she will take him to G.U.N. … and we won't have to risk involving the hedgehog or his fox to do the work for us!"

"Yes, I can see her now – so smug, so invincible. Expecting the greatest reward for her find, yess… And those tyrannical fools will take him to their finest, most secure headquarters, to lock him up; examine him again."

Laughter once more – the chuckles were growing. "And once they take him inside … BAM!" He slammed his fist into his armrest, smashing a button on the control console.

"The Legacy of Robotnik will finally be fulfilled…"

He dismissed the assistant with an effortless wave of the hand. "Well then, I don't suppose I'll need this place anymore. Activate evacuation protocols, Crabmeat, and begin flush procedures. We leave immediately."

"As you command, your most colossal Excellence!"

Ivo Robotnik nodded and let the simpering coward scuttle away. He had more important things to concern with. The spotlights adjusted to catch the screen of his data-pad, containing the copy of grandfather's diary, and he continued his re-reading, this time aloud.

"I will tell you the secrets of life. Of the Ultimate Life." He smiled, and looked adoringly to the computers. On the monitors, there rotated a computerized model of the perfected double helix of DNA.

Secret no longer. "It will all end, Grandfather; the hour approaches. Our Messenger will soon be in position…"

--Tylec Asroc
March 7, 2004.