“This is Commander Walters . . . Scramble every available piece of hardware to Green Hills, Montana, immediately!” the G.U.N. overlord ordered. “We’ve got a Code Mustache. I repeat: CODE MUSTACHE!”

Let them try and come for him. Robotnik was not simply a man anymore. He was all men just as he was no men, and therefore he was . . . a god. It felt like a chorus of dancing girls were continually backing him up as he kicked off the shackles of mortality. It was funky.

In the mostly insignificant instants between when Robotnik spied on his enemies and when he arrived in Green Hills, the sheriff’s idiot partner had managed to hog-tie Agent Stone to a chair. But as Robotnik touched down in the parking lot of the secret base, he knew they’d soon be feeding his massive ego or be crushed by it . . . as was intended.

-Chapter 16