Chapter Text
“It’s been a pleasure to have hosted you, Doctor.” The prince shook Robotnik’s hand warmly. “I think we have learned so much from each other.”
“Oh, absolutely.” With his friendliest smile. “I really enjoyed your labs. So rare to meet someone who’s had an original thought!”
The prince laughed. “And even rarer to meet someone who doesn’t try to steal it!”
Robotnik laughed back. He had, of course, stolen the lab’s flagship technology already. He had put together a reasonable-looking decoy last night in the bathroom from spare parts Stone had scavenged during the trip, and this morning they had swapped it into the case using an elaborate distraction involving the lab’s sprinkler systems. The real thing was going to walk out the door in Stone’s jacket pocket. Easy peasy.
Now they had made it to the lobby, and were saying their goodbyes. The front door was in sight.
“But in seriousness, Doctor.” The prince’s smile disappeared abruptly. “We have had problems with theft of our secrets. It’s therefore now our policy to conduct searches of our visitors before they leave. I’m sure you understand.”
Robotnik swallowed. “Oh, of course. I’m at your disposal.” Guards swarmed over him and started patting him down very very thoroughly. “The TSA could take a lesson from you gentlemen,” he laughed uncomfortably as someone’s hand ventured high up between the legs. It was a good thing, he reflected, that the sense of hierarchy here meant Stone was beneath everyone’s notice; he hadn’t even been offered a seat at lunch.
“Your assistant too,” the prince said.
He went cold. Oh god. Now what? Was Stone going to shoot his way out of this? (With what? They hadn’t been allowed to bring weapons into the lab.).
But Stone stepped up calmly. “Of course, Your Highness.” He unbuttoned his jacket and spread his arms wide. “Careful with my belt buckle,” he said to the guard who grabbed at him first. “There’s a concealed blade that pops out if you squeeze it on top and bottom.”
Robotnik only stood and watched, paralyzed, waiting for disaster to strike. But they searched the jacket pockets and found nothing.
They grabbed Stone all over and felt nothing. They flicked out his belt-knife a couple of times (and actually complimented it, the cretins. Robotnik had never seen a sadder little weapon in all his life. He and Stone needed to have a talk after this, they really did).
After they left the lab, they waited through the drive and until they were back in their hotel room before talking. The room had been carefully swept for bugs.
“So you ditched it,” Robotnik said. “Smart. I didn’t think they were going to be that paranoid, we had pretty much free run of the lab all weekend.”
“Which is why I pretty much expected to be searched. By hand, since I didn’t see scanners at the entrance.” Stone was looking in the mirror, fussing with his hair. Preening, really. “I didn’t ditch it. I hid it. When I stopped in the men’s room at lunchtime.”
“You hid it?” he repeated. “How?” They had searched everything. Shook out every file, patted down every part of the body. They’d even tapped on his shoes.
Stone looked at him in the mirror, and arched his eyebrows pointedly. “A gentleman never tells.”
Tells what? The gadget was physically nowhere. At least nowhere visible. Had it been cloaked somehow? Cloaked and levitated maybe, floated through the air after them?
He wanted to know – had to know. What technology could possibly have done it? Nothing of his. And certainly nothing that came from the same shop as Stone’s amateurish belt-knife; that looked like a CIA special left over from the seventies.
No – this was something new. Something new that Stone was hiding from him, holding out of his reach like a schoolyard bully. What was he supposed to do, beg for it?
“I’ll keep it hidden until we’re out of the country,” Stone said. “In case they do catch on to the decoy and search us again.”
Maybe that made sense… or maybe it was just an excuse to keep him in the dark longer, lord his ignorance over him for another couple of hours.
Hm. “You know, I took some photos of their equipment,” he said. “I’ve got them on a standard USB key. Here - can you squirrel this away too?”
Stone nodded and held his hand out for it. “Absolutely, sir.”
Well, at this rate he could at least learn the technology’s size and weight limits. “And where would we be if they got ahold of our normal data too?” he fretted out loud. “Here, add this one, all right?”
Stone nodded. Still didn’t unveil his secret concealment device though. What, was he going to wait until Robotnik had turned his back?
”Oh - and this one,” he said, waving another. (He had about fifteen thumb drives of various information in his suitcase; he could do this all day!). “And this. And this too.”
”Um… okay,” Stone said, definitely uncertain now. “But honestly we’re probably approaching the limit of what I can fit. Better safe than sorry, you know.”
“Good point, Stone. Better safe than sorry. They probably shouldn’t know that I brought a spy camera at all.” He handed it over, a camera cleverly disguised as a pen. “Here you go - add this to the pile, will you?”
Stone took it from his hand… but frowned at it, and at him, and then took all the contraband away to work his magic on. Off into the bathroom, where Robotnik couldn’t see.
He had a sudden, visceral urge to rip Stone’s head off for this. The traitor was using someone else’s technology and flaunting it in front of him - the scientific equivalent of adultery. Brazen cuckholding. Only much, much worse.
But Robotnik would set things straight. He would pull every detail of the invention from his faithless agent, under interrogation by any means necessary. And then he would rip his head off afterwards.
The disloyal traitor. The filthy sneaking spy.
The drive to the airport happened in icy silence, and at least thirty miles an hour over the speed limit. Stone finally shifted in his seat. “Doctor, I can see you’re cranky right now, and I know you love the open road, but would you mind going just a little smoother for me?”
Robotnik leaned into the accelerator harder. “Why – you worried I’m going to crash?” Insult added to injury!
“No, not at all,” Stone assured. “I just-. Still have things in concealment, remember?”
Oh, he remembered. What did the driving have to do with it, though? Would the technology fail if you jarred it hard enough?
The prospect of solving the puzzle was too tempting to pass by. He swerved towards the side of the road to hit a pothole, a nice big one, jolting them so hard he flew up several inches off his seat.
Stone yelped.
He looked over, feeling what bordered on alarm, hoping that it was just an unfortunate sound brought on by surprise-…
But no. Stone’s face was screwed up, his hand on the dashboard was gripping with strength, and he was panting silently through an open mouth.
The bump had hurt him somehow. And then he looked over in shock, betrayal, like he thought Robotnik had done it on purpose. “Doctor? What the actual fuck?”
The actual fuck was- “I want to see it,” he burst out, almost snarling. “Your little hiding place – you need to show it to me.”
Stone went totally still. “Excuse me?”
He was bad at begging, and he knew it. Normally he just devolved into rage and threats the minute someone denied him, but especially now that he felt bad he didn’t want to rage and threaten Stone. He tried to be conciliatory. “Or you can just tell me: whose is it? Who does it belong to? Tell me who it belongs to.”
At that Stone laughed at him, incredulous. “You have got to be kidding me.”
“No! I’m serious! Even if you won’t say what it is,” he explained, “If you tell me who you got the tech from I can probably figure it out.” Or badger him directly, or spy on his lab, or burn it to the ground if he won’t cooperate. “Is it Atkinson?” Atkinson had put out a paper on teleportation once. All hypothetical though, all wishful thinking. It never seemed like it would amount to anything – and it better not have. He’d jump off a bridge if that talentless hack had beaten him to teleportation.
He glanced over and saw that Stone was frowning at him. And echoing stupidly: “Atkinson?”
“No? Not Atkinson. Okay: Chen,” he guessed next. “He was showing off that cloaking membrane in December, maybe he’s developed it since then? Is it Chen? You got something from Chen?”
No answer at all this time. He looked and saw that Stone was watching him very, very intently. “Doctor… are you telling me that you think I’m hiding that prototype via some secret technology that you don’t know about? That I got from some other lab?”
He nodded, eyes on the road again. The incredulous tone said that his assumption had been wrong – but how? His head spun suddenly: Stone couldn’t mean that he had developed this invention himself?
“Oh my god. Doctor.” He could hear disbelief – and amusement. “No. No, no, no. There is no secret technology here, sir. I’m smuggling the item personally. Via, you know, the traditional methods. Where the only technology involved is Vaseline.”
It still took him a minute to understand. Once he did, he short-circuited faster than the prince’s sprinklers.
TBC.
So like. I’m not fully sure where this is going. It may entail scientific study of this smuggling procedure. It may entail Robotnik giving it a try, on the general principle that anything you can do, I can do better. It may eventually make its way to an actual sex scene. We shall see.
Let me know what you think?