The fox said, the metal machine before him whirring with a satisfied sound. It was an enormous metal box, attached to a helmet of sorts. Tails touched a control panel, and the helmet lit up. The fox "ooh"d at his new invention. Whoever put on that helmet would be brainwashed into Tails' bidding, no matter how small, or how strange, ESPECIALLY when it came to feeding him. The fox rubbed his hands, wondering who his first victim, or "servant" as he preferred to call it, would be. A quick knock of the door provided Tails with the answer; it was...
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