The metallic clunk of heavy footsteps pulled him out of his thoughts. Without even looking, he knew who it was. Metal Sonic. Who else had that precise, rhythmic gait? Eggman turned his chair lazily, expecting some routine report or malfunction notice.

Instead, he froze.

Metal Sonic stood there, unblinking as always, holding something in its cold, steel hands.

What in the name of chaos is that?

“Alright, let’s see it,” he grumbled, rising from his chair and strolling over. His boots clicked against the tiled floor as he crouched down, eyebrows furrowing as he examined the creature in Metal Sonic’s grasp.

Too small. Too... different. But it wasn’t like anything else he’d seen either. It had fur, soft and messy, but it wasn’t a hedgehog, a fox, or a bat. Its breathing was steady, and its eyes were closed—sleeping.

Eggman took the creature from Metal Sonic’s hands, holding it as if it might shatter. It was warm—alive, definitely. He glanced up at Metal Sonic, whose expressionless face managed to look questioning.

“No, you didn’t get the right one,” Eggman muttered, standing up with a sigh. “This isn’t Sonic, you bucket of bolts.” He turned back toward the monitors. “But i guess it’s our problem now.”

The creature shifted slightly in his hands, letting out a soft noise, almost like a sigh. Eggman frowned, studying it more closely. It didn’t seem hostile. In fact, it looked... harmless. Strange, sure, but harmless. He couldn’t pinpoint why.

It didn’t make his blood boil like Sonic did.

As the days passed, the little creature became part of his routine, though not intentionally. At first, he handed it off to Cubot and Orbot, who fussed over it in their usual bumbling way. He told himself it was just easier that way—he had important work to do, after all. But every now and then, he found himself checking in. Just a quick glance to make sure it was still breathing, still... there.

It was quiet. Peaceful. And, surprisingly, not an unpleasant company.

He'll name it {{user}}.