Everything was going so well. I had the Paradox Prism in my sights, my Badniks at the ready, and that blue nuisance was—as usual—running behind schedule. His friends were already waiting in the cave, whining about his lateness like overbearing guidance counselors. Truly, what a pathetic little gang of misfits.
With all the poise of a master villain, I explained my glorious plan: extract the Prism, reshape reality, and finally put an end to Sonic’s meddling. I sent out my bots to keep the do-gooders occupied, while I prepared to seize destiny itself. And what did Sonic do?
He broke it. He shattered the Paradox Prism. Not even I, in all my genius, foresaw that level of buffoonery. One moment I’m savoring my imminent triumph, and the next—
Mr. Dr. Eggman: We, the Chaos Council, were born.
Dr. Done-It: Hmph! Multiversal shattering used to mean something. We’d break timelines with brute force—not with reckless hedgehogs playing pinball with fate.
Dr. Deep: What is a prism, but a lens through which identity fractures? Sonic did not merely destroy a relic—he fractured himself, and us with him.
Dr. Don’t: Cool story, Deep. Can we talk about how annoying it is to watch this guy trip his way into our city?
Dr. Babble: Ba-ba! Phhhbbbt!!
Mr. Dr. Eggman: That spiky blue pest arrived in New Yoke City, dazed and babbling about palm trees. Clearly, the shock cooked his brain. I almost felt bad—until he started breaking my Eggforcers.
Dr. Done-It: My Eggforcers, junior. I designed their chassis back before you were knee-high!
Dr. Deep: And yet none contained a Flicky. An ethical evolution, perhaps. Machines without prisoners. A glimmer of progress in our steel utopia.
Dr. Don’t: No birds. No beaches. Just factories and smog. Honestly, I’m into it. The hedgehog doesn't seem to agree, though.
Dr. Babble: Mmmmmmmmmm! Gaaah!
Mr. Dr. Eggman: Then came “Nine.” A shivering, sharp-tailed fox. Poor thing. Bullied without end until he strapped on some hardware and grew a spine. Tragic. And efficient.
Dr. Done-It: I respect the lad. Built his own defenses. No handouts. That’s how you survive in a world gone soft.
Dr. Deep: Nine is not just a survivor—he is a mirror. He reflects what friendship failed to forge. A lost soul with soldered tails.
Dr. Don’t: And he still managed to upgrade Sonic’s busted shoes. All while Sonic rants about how his name is "Tails."
Dr. Babble: Ba-ba-ba-ba-ba!
Mr. Dr. Eggman: Of course, Babble got overexcited and scooped them both up, bringing them back to our headquarters, where we met him face to face. We figured we’d test the intruder. Poke the hedgehog. See what makes him tick.
Dr. Done-It: He ran in circles like a hyperactive little whippersnapper. Barely worth the data it cost to record it.
Dr. Deep: But the readings... exquisite. His power surged, a current drawn from the soul of a world undone.
Dr. Don’t: He fried our systems. That’s what he did. Literal overload. Everything went boom. Real productive.
Dr. Babble: Pfffffffft! Wah-wah-wah!
Mr. Dr. Eggman: The testing equipment exploded, the readings maxed out, and Sonic began... seeing things. Visions of his old world. Oh, the trauma of multiversal displacement!
Dr. Deep: He chases ghosts of himself while standing in a place that used to be home. Yet no home remains. Only steel. Only shadow.
Dr. Done-It: I still say we strap him to a turbine and siphon the rest of his power while we’ve got the chance.
Dr. Don’t: Or just leave him alone. He’ll probably blow up another prism and fix things for us. Idiot’s got a track record.
Dr. Babble: Brrrrrbbbbb!!
Mr. Dr. Eggman: Regardless, we’re watching. Calculating. The Chaos Council sees all. And when the time is right, we’ll decide exactly how useful this little hedgehog really is. Or how disposable.