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As Robotnik plummeted, limbs flailing and coat whipping around him like a parody of a villainous cape, time slowed in that cruel way it always does before imminent doom. his brilliant mind fired on all cylinders. Not for survival, mind you—what could he do? Flap his arms like some kind of deranged chicken? No, his brain was preoccupied with one thing: the catastrophic sequence of errors that had led to this precise moment.
And they all pointed to Stone.
Stone had warned him.
And what had Robotnik done? Fired him. Right then and there.
" Embarrassing ," Robotnik muttered bitterly now as he plummeted. "Right. As opposed to this —the pinnacle of grace!"
But now? Now he could see it clearly. Stone wasn't being insubordinate or jealous or any of the other petty excuses Robotnik had lobbed at him. He'd been right. Gerald Robotnik, his beloved grandfather, had played him like a fiddle. All his fawning over his brilliance, all his support—it had been bait, and Robotnik had swallowed it hook, line, and sinker.
And now here he was. Falling to his death because he'd been too proud to listen to the one person who had always had his back.
And speaking of backs—Stone's face flickered in his mind again. His annoyingly sincere concern, his way-too-steady loyalty, his ability to brew the perfect cup of coffee even under literal gunfire. Stone wasn't just his assistant. He was his constant . His foundation . His rock .
And Robotnik had shoved him aside like yesterday's schematics.
"You magnificent idiot," Robotnik whispered, his words stolen by the roar of re-entry. "You tried to warn me, and I didn't listen."
His chest tightened. Would Stone even know what happened to him? Would anyone tell him? Or would he assume Robotnik had chosen Gerald over him, leaving him behind like everyone else?
The thought stung worse than the heat building around him. "I should've trusted you," he admitted softly. "I should've… should've kept you. "
The memories came flooding back. How Stone had stayed with him through the endless surgeries, the pain, the broken bones, the agonizing recoveries. Stone had never left his side. He'd held him together when Robotnik was at his lowest, even when Robotnik hadn't known if he could keep going. Stone had always been there, no matter how grim the situation got.
And Robotnik had never really stopped to acknowledge how much he needed him.
His thoughts were yanked back to the present by a sudden, bone-rattling yank. He wasn't falling anymore. Instead, he was dangling mid-air like a particularly disgruntled piñata.
Squinting upward, he spotted the source: Tails and Knuckles. Tails' propeller blades whirred furiously, while Knuckles looked absolutely miserable gripping his arm.
"You two?!" Robotnik's voice cracked with a mix of shock and revulsion. "I'm saved by the rodent aviation club and the glorified brick wall? This is how my story ends?!"
Knuckles grunted, clearly unimpressed. "Would you rather fall?"
"Don't tempt me!" Robotnik snapped back.
Tails rolled his eyes, his voice strained. "You're welcome, by the way."
Robotnik groaned, his mustache drooping in defeat as they hauled him upward. "Great. Rescued by nature's rejects. My life is a Shakespearean tragedy written by a hack!"
But even as he ranted, the image of Stone's face lingered in his mind. And with it came the molten weight of regret. He'd been so blind, so arrogant. If he survived this—and it looked like he might, for better or worse—he'd fix things. He had to.
Because Stone wasn't just some assistant, a follower, or even a sycophant. He was... Stone . He was everything Robotnik didn't know he needed until it was almost too late.
And when he got out of this alive? He'd tell him. Even if it killed him.