Having woken up to Mecha looming beside my sleeping form protectively and the remnants of more than a few squashed bugs - and a hole or two in the building's walls and floor where he'd been a little overzealous - I first picked out some new clothes that weren't coated in alleyway stains made up of God knows what from my Goodwill haul.
Once I was dressed in a fresh black undershirt and a red coat with a hood, with black pants and much better shoes - all a better fit on my teenaged frame than the old set - it was time to settle down and do some serious thinking.
Leeching power from the building's utilities in order to charge the laptop that I had turned into my first Eggnet computer - well, technically my omni-tool came first but it was severely limited - I started off by running further checks on Mecha's systems and build quality, making a few minor tweaks and corrections to things that were really only apparent now that he was moving around. A crossed wire here, a bolt or two that needed tightening there: nothing major that needed a full rebuild.
Next came a little bit of testing.
I knew already that Mecha's armour plating wouldn't stand up to serious attacks. Some baseline human with a sledgehammer? Sure, he'd be fine and the dents could be pounded back out. Bullets? Anything that wasn't designed to be armor-piercing or in the higher calibers - especially sniper rifles - was potentially survivable based on where they hit and what size round we were talking about, but that's why I tried to maximize speed and sensors so he wouldn't be getting shot in the first place.
A Brute with fists that could hit like jackhammers? A Blaster that could fire exotic energies? Not happening. Parahumans made things so much more annoying but luckily 'we' had experience in making machines that could take a beating from myriad disparate abilities.
Still, this was why I needed to get something better than a kludged-together modified laptop - I wanted to be able to store backups.
I had been working with civilian appliance grade steel and scrap metal. Even utilizing chemicals I had scrounged - you would be shocked at how many people just throw out bottles of cleaning fluid and the like with some still in there - and metallurgy methods known only to my various selves, I can't make figurative gold out of lead.
Useful though it may be, my omni-tool was still made out of scavenged electronics; it wasn't a substitute for a properly stocked lab environment and forging equipment. One day I'd be arming Mecha in the finest Megatal alloy I could produce - a time-intensive and highly resource-heavy process - but for now, it was the best I was capable of.
Strength-wise, I didn't exactly have multi-tonne weights laying around for Mecha to stress-test his systems with, so we made do. Which basically meant I had him hefting increasingly large and bulky objects. It wasn't a definitive test by any means, but I was pretty sure even my old body would have struggled with some of the heavier items we had on hand. We would have to try something more in-depth in the future.
Maybe see if he could flip a cop car; that'd be hilarious.
I swear, I was like this before the Robotnik brain-dump.
Without access to better technology or parts to work with, the best I could give Mecha in terms of ranged weapons were energy projectors in the palms of his hands ala the Crabmeat claw that Mecha Sonic MkII's Scrapnik incarnation could fire off. Ports along Mecha's arms could draw in air particulates and gasses, compress them into chambers built into those limbs and then use energy to excite and convert the gas and particulate matter into a form of energy bolt.
Of course, because this was mad science we were working with, these energy bolts also had mass.
In the first test I had him run with it, Mecha's shot had blasted the target - the gutted plastic casing of a portable stereo - off of the floor and sent it into a wall, where it smashed to bits. No explosion; the glowing yellow-orange oval-shaped bolt of energy was dissipated after imparting all of its contained energy and while the plastic had melted and scorched a little at the impact site, some repeated tests with different targets and materials made the fact quite clear.
Mecha's energy weapons had enough mass to hit like a physical object. Egg-tech; telling physics to go f*ck itself since 1991.
Even on the lowest power settings, hitting a baseline human with this would cause some damage: burns for certain, potentially broken bones and internal damage. I wasn't ready to test the potential maximum output indoors but I'm pretty sure that he couldn't do much more to something with body-armour than knock them around and cause surface-level damage, maybe damage steel or half-decent concrete with repeated blasts but we didn't exactly have any to test on. As for anything else…
'No chance of even slightly inconveniencing an Endbringer, even a sandbagging one - but that was never the plan right now. Outside of durable Brutes and anyone who can make themselves outright immune to harm with a Breaker or Shaker effect, it'll do.' I mused, typing away at my laptop, half taking notes and half preparing a little something while Mecha ran through a few more tests - limb flexibility, dexterity and the like. No speed tests as of yet; we didn't have the space for it. 'And unlike me, he can't be Mastered by anyone who isn't an outright technopath or maybe a Tinker with a hacking or robotics specialty. Eggman eventually managed to build Anti-Zeti countermeasures into Metal Sonic but they're not perfect and they're meant to stop one specific kind of control. Outside of anything which can really f*ck up metal or machinery, he's as prepared for combat as he can be for the time being. All things considered, I'm willing to call 'project: bodyguard' a tentative success!'
With a small sigh, I reached up to rub my still-tired and itchy eyes, hands covered by a pair of black gloves I had taken from the Goodwill that were actually pretty clean and fit me a lot better than the old ones. 'The only problem is that I used up almost everything making Mecha. Starline - may he rot in pieces - was an abusive asshole and a vainglorious hypocrite but he was right about one thing: Metal Sonic was Eggman's big, expensive, vanity project. Mecha is nowhere near as powerful and building him still chewed through resources that I could have used to make nearly a dozen different Badnik models.'
Mecha must have heard me sighing, as he turned his head and rotated the eye behind his visor to look my way. "Creator. Are you distressed?"
"More like frustrated." I explained, sitting on the floor of the former hardware store, laptop laying on my crossed legs as I lowered my hand to look upon the robot. "Don't get me wrong; you're easily my hedgehog-based ace in the hole, Mecha, and I adore you for it." I gestured to the pile of parts sitting next to me; the remainder of my one-hundred percent Goodwill discount shopping spree that wasn't clothing. "I even managed to save enough components to build a gadget or two that might help us out, but until we can secure more material? It's just you and I against this world's cavalcade of costumed cretins."
"This Unit is the Creator's greatest creation to date. Is This Unit not capable of eliminating any Threat towards the Creator?" Mecha asked, his artificial voice tinged with confusion and perhaps a hint of frustration at being underestimated.
Mecha wasn't really a true AI, not quite yet. He was… machine intelligence. Or a 'seed' AI, if you prefer that term. What he was working with right now was a highly advanced system that could self-edit based on new stimuli and information. In time, that would develop and expand, both with his own growth and understanding as well as my own purposeful upgrades.
It wasn't too dissimilar from how the main timeline's Eggman created his machines. Belle the Tinkerer, E-123 Omega, even Orbot and Cubot; all of them started out with a core persona and had to grow from there. I hadn't had time to code up an entire 'self' for Mecha, nor the computing power to do so - what I had made nearly fried the laptop, even after I upgraded it to handle the strain.
He could be curious, angry and more besides… but it wasn't an entire personality and identity. He still thought of himself as a unit, a tool: there was not yet an 'I.'
In short, right now he was working only through the core logic and directives I had given him. He would form his own Sub-Directives over time and evolve from there. One day, with experience and upgrades, he would become like the most well-known instances of Metal Sonic or the 'original' Mecha Sonic MkII that I had modelled his design on.
With a few keystrokes of my laptop, I compressed a very lengthy file that I had been typing up all through the morning and into the afternoon in between tests, transmitting it to Mecha's internal receiver via my laptop's Eggnet encrypted connection. "This is an information package on known Parahumans and other potential threats, including the PRT's - flawed but acceptable - classification system. Run a threat assessment and return the three most potentially dangerous Parahuman classifications to my operations."
There was a pause for a number of seconds as Mecha ran through the instructions. Even with all the tricks I could use to squeeze performance far beyond normal limits out of the parts I'd stolen, I was still working with mid two-thousands era civilian technology. Give me a few hours, proper tools and some raw materials? I'd be building quantum processors that would run circles around anything this planet would ever dream up on its own.
It was the old 'Tinker' problem - you had to build the tools to build better tools, which left you vulnerable early on. I could skip over that by building one very specific item that would kick-start me into being pure, undiluted, highly-refined nightmare fuel.
A step for the not-too-distant future: it required some… interesting resources that I'd need to grab and potentially flee the city with to make use of undisturbed.
"Assessment," Mecha began, his eye shifting from one side of the visor to the other before settling back into its center. "Threat levels in descending order are as follows. Master: Capable of subverting the Creator. Capable of swarm tactics or organized offensives against This Unit. Capable of subverting… This Unit."
I nodded, noting the hesitancy in that last point before motioning for Mecha to continue with a wave of my hand.
"Tinker: Capable of potentially analysing the Creator's technology and subverting it. Able to construct technology that…" Mecha paused and looked back down to me in what could be called 'confusion' as he encountered an unknown variable. "Is 'bullsh*t'?"
"Yeah, more so than what I make." A smirk came to my face as I indicated my laptop, tapping it with a gloved finger. "I made this by taking existing technology and refining it in ways humans won't be able to crack for decades, possibly ever. I know ways to make it work that almost nobody could replicate, even if they got hold of it."
"But it's still functional and it will stay that way because I'm using principles that can be replicated if you know actual engineering and can decipher the method behind it!" I continued, my smug smirk fading into a scowl of anger as I felt the bubbling, seething rage of genius being insulted fill me. "Tinkertech is garbage being held together by the higher-dimensional equivalent of spit and prayers! Any rube with the right Tinker power can staple together a laser gun out of a penlight and a battery but the second their Shard stops holding it together? Most of it ends up useless!"
Yeah, 'we' did not like Tinkers. There are some exceptions, true, but most Tinkertech had such enormous drawbacks that I wasn't interested in snagging any for the time being - I'd rather steal all of a Tinker's equipment, please and thank you.
For his part, Mecha bore my little rant without comment until the end, whereupon he nodded his head. "Understood. The Creator is Superior. Tinkers must 'cheat' to gain an Advantage."
"See, now you get it!" I nodded, the rage falling back as the praise caused my ego to soar. Oof, that felt good; got to make sure I don't end up with a swelled head - that's how most of the defeats and f*ckups happened in 'our' memories, even if they were biased against seeing it. "If you spot a Tinker about to do something, don't let them. And don't let them steal any parts of you or my other machines if you can feasibly do so."
"Acknowledged. Adding Creator's orders to the list of Sub-Directives." With a nod of his head, Mecha then moved on to finish his analysis. "Thinker: Anomalous information gathering ability. Anomalous skill in long-term planning, which can potentially span multiple years. Precognitive abilities that can assist in combat actions, to a degree that conventional attacks are highly ineffective."
Once Mecha was done listing the three categories and giving his reasoning, the robot paused briefly before speaking again. "Conclusion: These three categories provide the greatest long-term threat to the Creator and This Unit. Stranger and Changer classifications also present concerns but are more easily mitigated." He raised a hand, observing the motion of each finger before moving it to his other arm, metal scraping against metal as he truly examined his chassis. "This Unit's composition and capabilities are… insufficient."
He was learning, good. "I'll get you some upgrades as soon as possible." I commented while taking my laptop and moving to stand next to Mecha, beside the countertop. "Competent analysis though; with most of the other types of powers, we can manage the fallout. Direct damage is something we can plan around, even play into. It's the sneaky bastards you have to watch out for."
'Especially Masters.' I thought, shuddering a little, thinking of some of the particularly nasty sorts this world had on offer. 'I'd gladly make myself immune if I could.'
Synthetic flesh bubbled and melted away under a stream of acid, revealing the true, gleaming form beneath. Yes; their horrified expressions, their triumph turning to despair! Oh, how I missed this!
My eyes widened as the memory rose up and I realized that I could do exactly that. I raised a hand to my cheek, stroking my gloved fingers across my skin, feeling the sensation of the cool fabric on my skin. 'Charles Hedgehog, you poor bastard. You made an immortality machine and Julian turned it into a mockery. The schematics are in my head and I know how he sabotaged it. I could make it do what it was meant for. Life extension.'
The Roboticizer.
Flesh and blood went in, metal and wires came out. I was vehemently opposed to using it on rude assholes and civilians but I was under no illusions that I wouldn't be building one, if only to give myself cybernetic upgrades… and a weapon against anything made of machinery. Trying to Roboticize something that was already metal made for some violent explosions.
The fact that it could be used to remove some individuals who were too dangerous to kill made it all the more appealing. I wasn't sure how their Shards would react though. Could an 'artificial' Parahuman still control their powers? Dragon was an AI and she had a Shard, so there was a precedent of sorts.
Using it on myself, to become fully unbound from the limits of a meat body… no sabotage from Julian meant that the machine wouldn't lobotomise me and remove all free will; I would be myself but immortal and untouchable by any Parahuman ability that affected the mind or the human body.
Not a perfect solution, since that same quality would also mean I was no longer protected from the Manton Effect; that little restriction Shards put on Powers so the user didn't mangle themselves and which tended to extend to other living things in turn. I'd have to pull a Robo-Robotnik first and make some spare bodies plus other precautions for certain individuals.
'Hm. Future plans, I'll make a note of that.' I resolved, since I was currently lacking in resources.
Speaking of which…
Mecha was dutifully awaiting my next words as I set the laptop down on the countertop and turned to him. "On the topic of upgrades and new projects in general… Mecha, I'll be blunt: we're broke and almost out of supplies. I feel like I need all of the showers and a buffet service. And finally, getting our hands on anything resembling a functional home-slash-base that isn't an abandoned building is pretty much impossible without help from the criminal underworld since I have no ID!"
Clapping my hands together, I began rubbing together as the mania welled up inside of me. Getting to monologue a little and really detail your plan really did feel good, even if it was to my minion— creation, instead of using it to taunt my enemies.
"Our ultimate goal is to ensure this world doesn't go to absolute sh*t!" I began, reaching over to tap a few keys on the laptop's keyboard, causing the display to shift from the red, black and yellow wallpaper to a slideshow of images which began with…
'Plan: Off the Rails - a Robotnik Empire production.' Yellow text, big, bold and in a nice blocky 'mechanical' font on a black and red gradient background.
Perfection.
Mecha was passively watching the screen, as to be expected - his emotional development was still rather early days so I can't expect him to understand the sheer depths of my design work. "Now, I'll be speaking with some obfuscation, since certain names being spoken aloud can attract… attention."
"Creator," Mecha spoke up, drawing me out of 'the zone' of detailing a plan. "This information came with the download you provided. The Endbringers will destroy this world. Additional threats include the following code-named targets: the 'dumbass brigade.' The 'hipster.' The 'edgelords.' And the 'depressed whale.'"
A little on the nose? Maybe, but to most people those descriptors meant nothing, so if someone should stumble across my plans it wouldn't matter too terribly. Even if the subjects of a couple of those little dossiers were to encounter them, the obfuscation might just throw them off a little as long as they weren't Little Miss Thinker: Bullsh*t.
That didn't mean I appreciated the interruption, so I shot Mecha a look with narrowed my eyes and a frown. "As I was saying; our goal is to alter this world's current timeline. Technically speaking our existing here does that already but I'm speaking on a grander scale."
I continued to work the keyboard, bringing up a number of little bullet points.
- Everyone is an idiot.
- (Except me.)
- Capitalism, ho!
- Not enough Minerals.
- Crystals are integral.
Heh, references. Also further obfuscation: someone reading your plans and learning your schemes happens more often than you might think once you get big enough. Best I practice tactical f*ckery now and get into the habit.
Okay, so it was also for my own amusem*nt. Be glad I wasn't making egg puns.
"So, in order to do that, we have to deal with the people in masks and costumes and those directing them, most of whom will pitch a fit if we try to do anything to disrupt their precious status-quo. Because clearly, trying to make things better is the same as trying to actively make them worse!" I explained, my smile stamped firmly in place even as anger rose with every word.
Mech's head turned from the screen and back to me with the slightest hiss of mechanical components. "Parahuman individuals are inherently predisposed towards idiocy?"
Snickering at the blunt assessment, I shook my head a little, waving a gloved hand dismissively. "Some are, but it's generally more complex than that and relates to how their powers are derived. I won't wax expository on the entire nature of things but Parahumans tend to have certain extant neuroses or instincts reinforced upon receiving their abilities. Sometimes it's the urge to fight rather than back down or an emotional dependency on using their powers." I shrugged, the mechanics of Shards and how they could influence the brains of their hosts - or in some cases, didn't - were not the main point right now. "Generally speaking they can be rational to a degree, but there are always going to be outliers. Especially if one pokes their trauma button."
The machine intelligence gave a very slight nod of understanding, so I launched into my next point. "On to the next point: we have no money!" I declared dramatically with a finger extended skyward. "We require the aforementioned money for reasons! Until I go full post-scarcity through the power of certain esoteric and exotic fields, we're stuck suffering under capitalism!" I cried, thrusting both hands into the air, fingers curled into claws and my head thrown back in rage.
Quite a number of 'us' had exploited the rich and poor alike, both with outright extortion, taxation or by setting up shell companies to provide services while siphoning funding for the Empire. Unfortunately with the Number Man being in play, that last option wouldn't be viable until I rendered myself much more defended against market forces.
I don't have a Corona Pollentia or Gemma, so NEPEA-5 shouldn't affect me. Not that the PRT or the greater government would truly care: I'd have to be examined for their presence and I wasn't about to trust them with such things, nor was it definitive proof. My work would probably be slapped with a Tinker label regardless since it was so far beyond them. It's not my fault that they can't understand genius!
Those two factors made legitimate enterprise less of an option until I had some steam going.
Lowering my arms, I coughed into one of my hands. "But suffer we shall. I have a few ideas for how we can secure funding. All illegal of course but it's not like I care - I'll be stealing from and making money off of rich, evil people." A chuckle escaped from my lips as I said that. "Whoops, tautology."
"The acquisition of materials and currency for the Creator is imperative. Understood. This Unit will assist wherever capable." Mecha declared as this information was filed away. I was so proud of him "Query: will illegal activity not attract the attention of government-allied Parahuman entities?"
Chewing the inside of my cheek, I gave a reluctant nod. It was frustrating; I didn't want them looking for me, but my situation necessitated doing things that might do exactly that. "We'll be laying as low as possible. The Protectorate and PRT department in Boston is big and right now while the city's unstable they've got backup rolling in." I then gestured to the meagre remains of my 'shopping spree' with one hand; a few lengths of wire, some circuit boards and not much else. "Right now, I'm debating between building a Jackpot device to use on some out of the way and older-model ATMs or…" I groaned, hating the idea even as I thought it since there were far too many variables. "Stealing it from the city's gangsters. Not the costumed ones, the other ones. The organized crime variety. Hopefully with all the chaos going on, it'll be mostly lost in the shuffle. Riskier move for potential higher reward."
Mecha processed my words before responding, single eye pulsing bright before he spoke. "Parahuman presence among organized crime is inevitable. Unknown factors and capabilities. Risk to the Creator from violence."
"Hence why it's a less desirable outcome. But we've few other options for acquiring materials without cash to pay for them. Besides more daring night-time robberies which are going to set off great big 'Tinker' flags eventually. Also, money can be exchanged for goods and services and I am very hungry." I patted my stomach as I spoke, trying to ignore the twin sensations of gnawing hunger and dry-mouth that had been building since I had woken up.
"Understood, Creator. And the final point?" Mecha asked, pointing with a finger to that last bullet point on the laptop screen.
Oh yes, here it was - the big step that all of this was going to be building towards. I gave the keyboard another quick tap, causing the slideshow to switch to one final section with multiple images set up to appear on command; the first of those being an Eggman Empire insignia I had put together using a paint program.
I steepled my fingers in front of me and let my smile grow, lips parting to reveal my teeth. "This will be our big play, once we have the right equipment and supplies. We need raw gemstones. Specifically;, we require uncut, naturally formed rubies, emeralds, topazes and more." I considered my options and mentally shrugged, deciding to go for it. "Some beryl perhaps, in a pinch, but I'd prefer the former more precious stones."
Mecha tilted his head once more and I couldn't blame him - to anyone but a select few it wouldn't seem all that important of an action. "Why are these required?"
"Heh… ahahah…" The laughter came unbidden as I felt the dark glee of a true plot surge through me. I threw my arms wide and fixed Mecha with a look of such intensity that the machine before me actually drew back just a tiny bit. "Muahahahaha! Because, my wonderful Mecha; those stones are the foundation we will truly build from! The means to begin dragging this reality kicking and screaming into the glorious new era of the Egg-Girl Empire!"
One last touch of the keys made the final images appear on the slideshow. Eight stones, all different colours. There was the potential for more but these ones were those that I knew for certain that with the right materials and equipment, I could create replicas of. It would be arduous getting there but once I did... I could really do it. I could start making big splashes in this world with a reasonable degree of protection.
Seven of those stones were each of differing colours, yet all sharing the same diamond cut. The technology to make them had been adapted from Miles 'Tails' Prower's own work in the field, through careful replication studies. Fake Chaos Emeralds and with them, Chaos Drives to act as power sources.
And the eighth was a polyhedral, multi-faced stone run through with alternating bands of black and purple; the original was lost to me without dimensional shenanigans but that didn't matter. Even the imperfect prototypes would have been enough but Eggman had gone the extra mile and created near-perfect replicas.
A stone that could augment reality and bring almost anything I desired to life with the right amount of power behind it. That could bend time and space, warping probability and the future.
The Phantom Ruby.
