Chapter Text
AN: Special thanks to Yertosaurus truely the best editor I could have ever met. Putting up with even the wildest of stories haha.
This story already has 3 chapters, I'll be posting them as I continue to write more!
Update 2/9/2025: Added a rant.
A Fragile Beginning
The library of the estate is a sanctuary of knowledge, a fortress built of leather-bound tomes, aged paper, and the faint scent of ink and dust. It is a place where I can think, plan, and strategize—not as Maria, the fragile granddaughter, but as a mind worthy of standing among the greats.
I am nestled in the heart of it, surrounded by a fortress of medical texts and genetics journals, each one a weapon in my personal war against time. Tanya von Degurechaff would never have allowed herself to be so vulnerable, so helpless. And so, I refuse to be. If my body is a battlefield, then knowledge is my best artillery.
The ticking of the grandfather clock in the corner marks each second that slips through my fingers, a cruel reminder that no matter how much I learn, I am still at the mercy of something beyond my control.
I hate that.
The library door creaks open. I glance up, already knowing who it is.
Grandfather.
He steps inside, his gray hair slightly askew, his lab coat rumpled—as always, too engrossed in his work to care for trivial matters like appearances. His sharp blue eyes, a mirror of my own, crinkle with warmth as he smiles.
"Still at it, I see," he muses, moving to my side with his usual calm authority. His hand settles on my shoulder—warm, reassuring, solid in a way that few things in this world are.
Tanya von Degurechaff would have bristled at such familiarity. But I am Maria now. And I cannot deny the strange, frustrating warmth that pools in my chest whenever he does this.
"I can't afford to stop, Grandfather," I reply, my fingers hovering over a detailed diagram of a DNA helix. "Every minute counts."
He squeezes my shoulder, a rare display of open concern. "You're right, Maria. But sometimes, the answers we seek aren't found in books alone."
I pause. His words catch my attention—not because I disagree, but because they come from him. Gerald Robotnik, one of the few minds I truly respect.
Respect for authority. Obedience to the chain of command. Faith in the system.
What a fool I was.
Once, I believed in those things—not out of blind loyalty or some deluded sense of duty, but because I was rational. Order was preferable to chaos. Hierarchies existed for a reason. Authority, in its purest form, was meant to serve as an extension of efficiency, a means to prevent human stupidity from ruining everything. But I was wrong. It was never about logic. Never about efficiency. Authority is a crutch for incompetents, a tool for the weak to consolidate power. I learned that the hard way—through blood, through war, through the endless cycle of sacrifice for nothing. I played by the rules, I followed orders, I excelled. And in return, I was shackled to a nightmare orchestrated by bureaucrats who had never held a rifle, never seen a battlefield, never understood the cost of their decisions. They chose failure, over and over again, and expected me to pay the price.
And now? I find myself yet again surrounded by another bloated government, another collection of men who mistake their positions for intelligence. G.U.N. is no different from the Reich's high command. They sit at their tables, dictating policies they barely understand, making decisions that will set the world on fire. And they think they can control me. That they can own the Robotniks.
But I will never bow to incompetence again. They do not deserve my loyalty. They do not deserve my obedience.
Yet, not all authority is equal. There is a vast difference between those who wield power out of entitlement and those who wield it out of understanding. Politicians, bureaucrats, generals—every last one of them thinks in self-interest, in control, in maintaining a system that benefits them at the expense of others. I have seen firsthand where blind faith in leadership leads: endless war, suffering, and the suffocating grip of incompetence masquerading as order. I swore never again to trust in authority for its own sake. Never again to be a pawn in someone else's grand game.
But Grandfather is different. He does not lead for power—he leads because no one else is capable. He sees not the world as it is, but as it could be. His genius is not driven by arrogance or greed but by something far rarer: love. Not for institutions, not for control, but for me. He believes in knowledge, in progress, in something beyond the petty squabbles of men clawing for power. I may not share his idealism, but I believe in him. For once, I am not obeying out of necessity—I am choosing to follow. Because if anyone deserves to carve out a future beyond the reach of cowards, of liars, of men too weak to wield the power they claim—it is Gerald Robotnik.
Even when I see his flaws—the obsession, the arrogance, the reckless ambition—I want to believe in him.
Because if Gerald cannot defy the inevitable, then no one can.
I tilt my head, "What do you mean?"
His eyes gleam with that particular spark, the one that means he has found something. A breakthrough. A hope.
"I've been working on something in the lab. A practical approach to our problem. I think it's time you joined me."
The offer dangles in the air, a challenge wrapped in possibility.
Tanya would have weighed the pros and cons, assessed the risks. Maria feels the sharp pull of anticipation.
"A special experiment?" I ask, unable to keep the excitement from my voice.
Gerald nods, his hope contagious. "Indeed. And I think you're ready to assist me."
A thrill runs through me. Theoretical knowledge is one thing, but application? That is where true progress is made.
"What kind of experiment?" I press, my mind already spinning with possibilities.
He chuckles, a warm sound that fills the vast, scholarly silence of the library. "Ah, always the curious one. Let's just say it involves a unique energy source. But I won't spoil the surprise. Come, see for yourself."
Chaos Energy. It must be.
A thousand thoughts surge through me at once. Chaos Energy defies the known laws of physics. Its potential applications are limitless. And yet, Guardian Units of Nations, or G.U.N. as it was more aptly called, sees only its military potential.
The very thought boils my blood.
G.U.N. has always exploited my grandfather's intelligence, using his research for their own ends while treating him like a means to an end.
They do not deserve his mind.
They will never understand what he is truly capable of.
But I do.
Gerald works tirelessly to save me. And in return, I ensure that his genius is never reduced to a mere tool for lesser minds.
We understand each other.
We are bound by our ambitions.
Tanya von Degurechaff would never have allowed herself to rely on anyone. But Maria Robotnik has made a choice.
Gerald Robotnik is my greatest asset. My greatest ally.
And no one—not G.U.N., not fate, not even the universe itself—will take that away from me.
I stand, carefully extracting myself from the wingback chair's embrace. My body is weak, but my mind is stronger than ever.
I follow Gerald out of the library, stepping forward into the unknown.
I will not be a passive observer in my own fate.
If the universe dares to challenge me—
Then I will make it regret ever crossing Maria Robotnik.
The corridor stretches out before us, its sterile white walls a stark contrast to the warmth of the library. The air is colder here, sharper, clinical—a place where emotions are irrelevant, where only results matter.
Grandfather's lab coat billows as he walks ahead, his steps brisk and eager, his mind already leagues beyond the present moment. I quicken my pace, the soft scuff of my slippers barely audible against the polished floor. He doesn't need to slow down for me—I refuse to let my illness dictate my place beside him.
I hate how my body betrays me. Tanya von Degurechaff never would have tolerated such weakness.
But this is my battlefield now. And if I have to fight my own body to keep up with Gerald Robotnik, then so be it.
As we approach the lab, the humming of machinery grows stronger, a deep, vibrating pulse that resonates through the soles of my feet. The double doors ahead loom, pristine and imposing, standing guard over whatever knowledge lies within.
Grandfather pauses, his hand resting on the handle. He turns toward me, his sharp blue eyes meeting mine.
"Ready, Maria?"
The anticipation in his voice is palpable. I have always admired that about him. He is a man who thrives in the realm of discovery, who sees the world as a puzzle waiting to be solved.
It is rare for me to truly respect someone. Authority figures have always been obstacles or fools—but Grandfather is different. His intellect rivals my own, perhaps even surpasses it. He is one of the few minds I deem worthy.
Even when I see his flaws—his obsession, his tunnel vision, his dangerous idealism—I cannot bring myself to judge him too harshly.
Because he is trying to save me.
And in return, I will ensure his genius is never wasted on those who would exploit it.
I swallow down my apprehension. "As ready as I'll ever be," I reply, voice steady despite the flutter in my chest.
With a quiet nod, he pushes open the doors.
The lab is a monument to science.
The vast, cavernous space glows with an ethereal light. The rhythmic hum of machinery fills the air, a constant, unspoken conversation between technology and progress.
The air crackles with something else, something alive.
At the center of the room, suspended from the ceiling, is a metal ring—pulsing with an otherworldly glow.
I stop short, my breath catching.
Chaos Energy.
I have studied it in his notes, analyzed every equation, broken down its theoretical applications. But this—this is my first time seeing it with my own eyes.
Grandfather steps forward, his voice reverent. "Behold, Maria. Chaos Energy, in its purest form."
I circle the device slowly, eyes scanning every inch, every panel, every wire. The calculations I once read come to life, transforming into a tangible force in front of me.
I fold my arms, my mind already at work. "What does it do?"
Grandfather studies me, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. He enjoys these moments, when he can share discoveries with me, when he knows I can keep up.
"It's more than just energy," he says. "It's… alive, in a way. It doesn't behave like any known force—it bends the laws of physics, shifts probability itself."
His eyes flicker to me, weighing his next words carefully.
"The energy it gives off has a unique effect on organic matter. It revitalizes, restores. I believe… I believe it could be the key to your condition."
I freeze.
Hope is a dangerous thing.
I have spent two lifetimes refusing to believe in miracles, dismissing sentiment in favor of cold, calculated realism.
And yet—
"You think it can cure me?" I whisper, my voice barely audible over the hum of the machine.
His expression hardens with conviction. "I do. But it won't be easy. We have to test it—see how your body reacts. There are risks, Maria."
There are always risks.
But risks can be measured. Controlled. Manipulated.
And if this has even the slightest chance of extending my life, stabilizing my body—then I will take it.
I square my shoulders, forcing my voice to remain level. "Then let's begin."
The machine awakens.
The soft hum becomes a roar, the light brightening until it consumes my vision. My skin prickles as the energy surges through the air, brushing against me with curious, invisible fingers.
I don't flinch.
"Describe what you're feeling," Grandfather's voice comes from somewhere to my left, professional, clinical.
I close my eyes, focusing. "It's… strange. Like my blood is carbonated."
He chuckles, scribbling on his tablet. "That's the energy interacting with your cells. Keep going."
I take a slow breath, cataloging every sensation.
Warmth.
Not like a fever—something deeper, something woven into the very core of me.
I open my mouth to speak—
And then I realize.
I am no longer touching the ground.
My breath catches.
"Grandfather," I whisper, my voice tight with something I refuse to call fear.
He looks up from his notes, and his eyes widen.
I am hovering.
Not standing. Not stumbling. Floating.
The machine pulses, its glow synchronizing with something inside me.
I feel weightless. Limitless.
A laugh escapes me.
It is foreign to my ears—unfamiliar, unrestrained, genuine.
I tilt my body slightly, and the shift in motion responds immediately. I am not being lifted—I am in control.
Grandfather watches with something close to awe. "Incredible," he murmurs.
I push forward just slightly, and the world bends to my will.
I am not Maria Robotnik, the dying girl trapped in her own body.
I am something more.
And I refuse to let this feeling slip through my fingers.
The following weeks are a revelation.
At first, the hovering is sporadic, unpredictable. But with practice, with calculated precision, I refine it.
Soon, I am no longer merely floating.
I am flying.
The sprawling labyrinth of the mansion becomes my personal training ground. The halls, the staircases, the upper balconies—all once out of reach, all now effortlessly accessible.
For the first time in two lifetimes, my body is no longer a prison.
The library, with its towering bookshelves, taunted me for years.
Not anymore.
Now, I rise into the air with practiced ease, fingers brushing across the dusty spines of ancient tomes I once ached to reach.
The scent of aged paper and ink fills my senses as I pluck a volume from the highest shelf.
No ladder. No struggle. No weakness.
I clutch the book to my chest. "Gotcha."
From below, Grandfather watches, arms crossed, his pride unmistakable.
"Careful, Maria," he calls, his voice lighter than usual.
I grin down at him. "Always, Grandfather."
He chuckles, shaking his head as he returns to his notes.
And I return to the sky.
For the first time in my life—perhaps in both of my lives—I am free.
And I will never let that freedom be taken from me.
This sense of freedom and empowerment is only dampened by the irritation that I must keep it hidden to the walls of the estate. G.U.N. and the United Federations have been snooping more and more in Gerelds affairs.
Honestly, you think they would have learned to stop putting keyloggers after the thirtieth deletion.
Today the lab was glowing with the same orange light, and the machinery humming like a steady heartbeat. I floated over the cold metal table, absentmindedly swinging my legs in the air while once again scanning the labs servers for more intruders. Grandfather was bent over his console, his fingers moving deftly over the controls with the precision of years of experience.
"Grandfather," I call to him. My voice echoing slightly in the vast lab, "Are you sure about this?" I turned my phone to him showing some readings of how the latest lab test showed some sort of Lizard being dunked into the chaos energy and crawling out of the vat twice its size.
"The variables–"
"Maria," I clench my teeth as he interrupts me, I only relax due to his reassuring smile. "We've been over the calculations a hundred times. The Chaos Energy resonance is stable. The mutation was only due to the unregulated dose of Chaos Energy administered to the test subject. You have been given small doses of the energy over a much larger period of time and have no… negative side effects. It is time. This could be it—the key to finally curing you."
I tilt my head, considering his words. The analytical part of my brain is screaming at me to proceed with caution, to weigh every potential outcome. But there's another part, a smaller, quarter voice that whispers of hope and possibility.
I have been sick. For a long, long time.
"Alright," I agree, taking a breath. "Let's do this."
Gerald nods, before motioning me to move towards the center of the room. The large almost liquid vat of energy seemed to press itself against the glass towards me as I floated over.
I feel it the moment Gerald flips a switch. The hum of the room gets louder as electricity is sent into the vat of orange energy. My arms suddenly feeling cold as I feel something call to me.
"Remember, Maria, focus on the energy. Let it flow through you and don't fight it."
I close my eyes, taking a deep breath as the glass slides open in front of me. I can feel the energy even in the dark. Like water the orange glow pours out–but floating towards me rather than letting something like gravity control it. Tendrils of liquid sunlight wrapping around my outstretched hands, before surging through me.
Intense warmth spread through my body, and I felt like I could take on the whole world. "It's working."
Gerald doesn't respond, but I can sense his presence like a beacon nearby. His exhaustion was palpable in my senses, but underneath it I could feel triumph.
This is really it. The end of feeling like my third death was inevitable.
I couldn't stop my grin as I turned to face the man who made this possible. When I reopened my eyes, the world was a blur of orange and white. The lab, grandfather, everything bathing in the almost golden glow, pulsing with the rhythm of the Chaos Energy. I looked to my hands, and they were shimmering, the tendrils of energy visible just beneath the surface of my skin.
"Maria, your eyes… they're glowing."
Hmmm. The Chaos Energy did not feel like I remember magic did, though overuse of magic was known to cause eyes to glow. Regardless, I didn't want this feeling to end. Gerald looked one moment away from flipping the switch…
"I feel alive grandfather, Like every cell in my body is finally awake."
He smiles, a genuine, heartfelt smile that wrinkles the corners of his eyes.
I can't help but try to return one. In this moment, the lab, the experiments, the endless calculations–they all just fade away. And as the unregulated Chaos Energy continues to pulse through me, I can't help but feel that this is just the beginning of my life.
Gerald then takes his tablet out, finally taking his hands off the labs control panel and takes a picture of me. I almost roll my eyes as he starts taking multiple photos, "Grandfather, you are enjoying this success a little too much."
He chuckles, his eyes not leaving the tablet in front of him, "Nonsense, Maria. This is a historic moment. I'm allowed to enjoy it with my successor."
I decided to just let him enjoy the moment. He did just cure me afterall. I felt something sharp—
The energy in me lurches through me–I fall to the floor, sumbling. I heard Gerald say something, but my stomach felt like it was boiling. The energy poured out of me like a tsunami.
I hear alarms as the lab equipment starts to go haywire. Consoles sparking and smoking, the electricity shuts down, the light only coming from the very energy that was now almost red in the air.
The Chaos Energy inside me was rebelling, ignoring my mental commands–
Pain.
The first thing I notice is the steady beeping of the medical machines. I'm propped up in my bed, the covers tucked tightly around me. It takes me a moment to recall what happened. My body aches, however that isn't what distracted me. I was used to feeling this pain.
It's the emptiness, the absence of the Chaos Energy that once hummed in the air, and within me, that feels most alien.
I feel something tightening, and finally notice that Gerald is by my side, his once pristine lab coat now a wrinkled mess, stained with who knows what. His eyes are dancing over a tablet scanning lines of code and data. There are dark circles under his eyes, doubtlessly from more sleepless nights in his lab.
He sees my eyes open and his face pales, "Maria, you are awake— can you hear me?"
Confused, I manage a nod, or at least I think I do. Everything feels so disconnected, like my body is no longer my own. The pain is receding, but the disorientation remains.
Gerald raises out hands, his free hand checking my pulse.
He didn't acknowledge my nod. "Gerald," My voice is barely audible to my ears. I can't speak right now.
Gerald is frowning standing from the bedside and leaning over me, "I'm sorry Maria. I'm so sorry."
The steady tick of the grandfather clock fills the stillness of my room, each second dragging forward like a nail being hammered into my coffin.
The air is thick with the sterile scent of antiseptics, the crisp sheets tucked too tightly around me a reminder of my continued uselessness.
I hate this.
I hate being confined. I hate being weak. I hate the fact that my own body is the enemy.
More than anything, I hate Being X.
That miserable, conniving bastard.
I am here, in this bed, not because of a lack of knowledge, nor because of some unavoidable fate. No, it all traces back to him.
He did this to me.
Another life—another prison.
I should have died in battle, not in some grand, sprawling estate, weak and tethered to machines while the world moves on without me.
But I refuse to make it easy for him.
If I'm going to die, I will do so on my terms. If I can't stop the inevitable, then I will drag it out, outlast it out of sheer spite.
And that means no more lying here.
Gerald thinks rest is the answer, but rest will not save me. I need to be in the lab. I need to understand the Chaos Energy. I need to be where progress is made, not rotting away in this bed.
Which means I need to convince him.
And convincing Gerald Robotnik is no small task.
I take a slow breath, carefully schooling my expression into something softer, weaker. Not pleading—no, that would be too suspicious. But resigned, fragile. The perfect blend of determined yet vulnerable.
When the door creaks open, and Gerald steps inside, I know I have one chance at this.
His lab coat is more wrinkled than usual, his movements sluggish with exhaustion. He's been working tirelessly, no doubt running tests, analyzing the data from the experiment.
His sharp blue eyes sweep over me, scanning for signs of distress. The moment they land on my face, I see it—the guilt.
Good.
"Maria, you should be resting." His voice is firm, but there's an edge of worry, a weariness that I can use.
I sigh dramatically, letting my eyes drift away from him. "Grandfather…" I pause, waiting until I know I have his full attention before I continue.
"I don't want to spend what little time I have left in this bed."
His entire posture stiffens. Perfect.
He doesn't interrupt—he knows better than to argue with me immediately. Instead, he watches, waiting.
I glance toward the window, my fingers curling weakly over the edge of the blanket. "I know you don't want to say it. But let's be honest—the experiment failed, didn't it? I'm worse now. And I… I can feel it."
Gerald's jaw tightens, his knuckles turning white as he grips the side of my bed. He wants to argue. I can see it. But he can't. Because I'm right.
I let my voice drop, making it just fragile enough to be believable. "If I'm going to die, then I'd rather be in the lab, with you. I don't want my last days to be spent staring at the ceiling."
The silence is long, drawn-out, agonizing.
Then, finally, his mask cracks.
"Maria, you're not going to die," he says, his voice sharp, desperate. "I won't allow it."
I swallow hard, forcing just enough emotion into my expression to sell it. "You don't know that," I whisper.
He looks away, his hands clenched into tight fists.
Checkmate.
I press forward, my voice turning softer, more pleading. "Please, Grandfather. I don't want to be alone. I want to be there, with you, where I can at least see the work you're doing. If I can't fight my illness, at least let me be part of the effort to understand it."
I see conflict in his eyes.
Guilt. Frustration. The need to protect me warring against the knowledge that I am just as brilliant as he is, that I do not want to be coddled, that I am wasting away here.
And then, finally—
He sighs.
A long, weary sigh, his shoulders slumping just slightly.
"...Fine," he mutters. "But you will stay in a chair. No moving around. No pushing yourself. If I see even the slightest sign of strain, you're coming back up here. Do you understand me?"
I bite my lip, schooling my face into something that resembles gratitude rather than victorious satisfaction.
"Yes, Grandfather. Thank you."
He shakes his head, still clearly reluctant, still full of doubt. But I have won.
Because no matter what, I will not rot away in this room.
And if my time is limited—
Then I will spend every last second of it fighting.
Even if it's just to spite God himself.
CONFIDENTIAL
G.U.N. Surveillance Report
Observer: Ensign D. Walters
Assignment: Observation of Subject Maria Robotnik
Location: Robotnik Estate
Date: [Redacted]
Subject Profile
Name: Maria Robotnik
Age: 10
Relation: Granddaughter of Dr. Gerald Robotnik
Condition: Terminal illness (details classified)
Threat Level: None
Week One Summary
I have been assigned to observe Maria Robotnik, granddaughter of Dr. Gerald Robotnik, and I will be frank—this is an assignment I do not understand. She is no criminal, no threat. She is a sickly child with a kind heart and a gentle soul, living under the shadow of a madman's ambition.
I expected arrogance from her, given her family name. Instead, I see nothing but patience, intelligence, and a quiet grace. Despite her illness, despite her circumstances, she carries herself with a dignity that makes it difficult to believe she is truly related to Gerald Robotnik.
She is… just a little girl. There is nothing more to say.
How someone so pure has been condemned to her fate is beyond my understanding.
Daily Observations
Day One
Maria Robotnik spends much of her time in the laboratories, though I would not say she belongs there. Not because she is unwelcome—no one would dare to be cruel to her—but because she is different from the others. She is not like the scientists who scurry around her, too preoccupied with their calculations to acknowledge her presence. She is patient where they are frantic, soft-spoken where they are harsh.
I have yet to see a single researcher address her directly. Even when she speaks, her voice rarely carries past her grandfather's ear. It is infuriating to watch.
She is not a scientist, no. But she could be. Her mind is sharper than half the men working under Robotnik, and yet they ignore her as if she is nothing more than a shadow.
Dr. Robotnik, of course, acknowledges her. I cannot tell if that is a blessing or a curse.
Day Three
Maria remains as dedicated as ever, always by her grandfather's side, watching the work unfold with an intensity that does not belong to a child. There is no selfishness in her interest—no hunger for power, no ambition. She is simply… fascinated. As if science itself is a wonder to her, rather than a tool for control.
And yet, I see the exhaustion pulling at her. The way her fingers tighten against the edge of a table when she thinks no one is looking. The way she pauses before rising, as if gathering the strength to move. I see how often Robotnik forgets. How he speaks of theories and formulas and experiments, all while the girl beside him grows paler with each passing day.
He does not deserve her loyalty.
Day Five
A moment that stands out:
Maria was reviewing something at her workstation, her posture tense but focused. I do not know what she was reading—her notes are complex, far beyond my understanding. It does not matter. What matters is what happened next.
Dr. Robotnik called for her. She stood too quickly.
Her legs faltered.
The moment was brief, but I saw it. A stumble, a slight intake of breath, her fingers brushing against the workstation for support before she steadied herself. She recovered quickly, smoothing her expression as if nothing had happened, but I knew better.
So did Robotnik.
But he did not move to help her.
He merely waited.
Not out of cruelty, I think. Out of expectation. As if he has long since accepted that she will push herself beyond her limits and that there is nothing to be done about it.
She does not complain.
She does not allow herself to.
I nearly stepped forward myself before she turned back to the monitors, her expression once again serene.
I remained where I was.
Day Seven
The more I observe Maria, the more certain I become: she is not meant for this place.
She belongs somewhere quiet. Somewhere peaceful, far from the cold sterility of laboratories and the indifferent men who populate them. She belongs in a world where she is cherished, where her illness does not weigh on her shoulders like a burden she refuses to acknowledge.
And yet, she is here.
Assessment
Maria Robotnik is an innocent caught in the storm of her grandfather's ambitions. She is no scientist, no researcher, and certainly no threat. She is simply here—watching, learning, but never interfering.
She is intelligent, yes. Too intelligent to be dismissed. But there is no malice in her. No hidden agenda. She is not like Robotnik.
And yet, G.U.N. insists she be watched as if she is.
I see no reason for this assignment.
I see no reason to file this report at all.
End Report.
AN: Tanya as Maria Robotnik. Just Because.