Chapter Text
“…And so, sir, I believe if we were to monopolise on this potential collaboration, both yourself and I would reap in the profits of our labour to receive what we are long overdue.”
The air in the laboratory was thick with the scent of desperation, nerves heightened as the man, weaponry in hand, staring down the barrel of the far too common motif— no, trademark plastered on every edge of the building; yet he stared upon the one etched within the cruel leather of the swivel seats backside facing him, the elongated shadow swallowing his very existence, as though he were simply another speck of dirt upon the ground.
The silence was deafening, the lack of response only heightening the pounding of the mans heart, as with each beat, the sudden echo of a laugh sounded throughout his body.
“Gage,” The chair creaked with its, albeit painstakingly slow rotation, and the man himself sat within, despite his almost comedic appearance, held the sheer aura of an executioner with the way he held the fate of the beggar before him in his decision to be made.
“Charles, Doctor. When I lost her, I lost that name, too.” He corrected, to which the man in the seat merely adjusted his glasses, one leg crossed over the other—folded hands moving to rest atop his stomach.
“Charles,” he quoted, the mere word drawn out as though it were the last name he would ever speak. “Care to explain why I, the known genius amongst the pitiful common folk, would lower myself to work alongside one of you cretinous fools?”
“My daughter, you see— my daughter has fallen ill, and after the loss of her mother, I simply can’t pay for her medical bills. I just can’t afford it.”
“And what is it you expect in return from me? Pity?”
“No, Doctor. I’ve wanted to collaborate, to work alongside you since I first began my business. I believe with your genius and my concepts, my weaponry business— no, my empire could be as great as yours. I would then have the fortune to pay off all of my daughter’s medical bills.”
“All I heard from your words was the implication you stand no where near my level, with begs the question, Charles,” the doctor curled his moustache around his finger as he spoke, his unwavering expression giving no leverage to the emotions he harboured beneath. “Why would I choose to loan my talent for the sake of charity work?”
“Well— I just thought—“
A firm hand landed atop the shoulder of the man, stumbling at the sudden motion;
“You thought wrong.” Corrected the doctor, tossing him to the side. “You may leave now, I’m an awfully busy man you know.”
“Wait, you can’t just shove me out like this! You haven’t even looked at my concepts!” He cried out, only earning a laugh in response.
“Why would I waste my time looking at such a poor display, when both of us know your best work is my comparable to that of my worst work? Just accept you’ll never amount to me, let alone amount to anything… I’m through with you now. Leave my office before I make you.”
“…You’ll see, Robotnik.” Turning heel, obeying each command, the man sauntered out the room, yet with his head hung low, he couldn’t help but mumble to himself. “I’ll prove to you I’m far greater than your close minded expectations could ever consider.”