Tinker, Tailor, Hero, Spy [Modplot/Network IC Post] [Part 2] [Set after the ambush ends]

[legionnpcs]

[Things are not good -- and that's the understatement of the century. Just about everyone got walloped and the native Legionnaires were at the epicenter of that collective wumping, targeted first by the Fatal Five in the hopes that with them out of the way the rookies would be easy to pick off.]

[Thankfully, the Fatal Five were wrong. The rookies took their lumps but they held their ground.]

Matter-Eater Lad here.

[His glasses only partly hide the massive shiner he's got, and he's wearing a neck brace. Hooray. Fortunately, those are much less bulky in the glorious robot future.]

Alright, ladies and gents and variations thereupon, I think it goes without saying that what just happened was the pits. Right now, half of us more experienced Legionnaires are in Medbay and Kid Q is still trapped in a time loop, even if we've managed to relocate her to Legion World. Brainiac thinks he can fix it but he's still a mess because his personality inhibitors got blown and he has to fix those first before he can even hope to think straight again.

Everyone's respective boo boos aren't the only thing we have to worry about though. The Fatal Five knowing all our weaknesses, and some of what they said, suggested there's a mole on Legion World passing them private medical scans and tactical data. Since the Science Police had jurisdiction, they've already arrested a suspect.

[He tilts his omnicom and they can see that the Science Police are in the background, arguing viciously with Timber Wolf, Officer Erin, and Umbra, and trying to drag away a handcuffed Rocket, who's wasting no time in arguing with them, too.]

["Hey! Hey, watch the sui--what do you mean, hand over my gun? That's my gun! I mean, I got more, but it's my gun! I told you, I ain't a spy! Or a mole, or whatever stupid word you wanna use! I didn't do it!" A pause. "Do I look like a sp--yes, I know spies don't look like spies, that's whole point, but you know what I mean!"]

[Back on Tenzil's face again.]

It's totally bogus. The only evidence against Rocket they have is all digital sign-ins and video, which is so easy to doctor in this time period that a Terellian spongebeast could do it. No physical evidence or witnesses. No prints or DNA at the console he was supposedly accessing the data from. But they're not listening to us.

[Rocket has not stopped arguing in the background. "You're all assholes. Complete friggin' assholes. Have I told you that? 'Cause I feel like I should. Shouldn't you be out policing science, instead of arresting people who didn't do anything?"]

[Tenzil lowers his voice.] Which means we're gonna have to take a few things into our own hands.

[The last thing they hear from Rocket as he's dragged off is: "--and somebody remember to go water the plants while I'm dealing with this shit! I come back and they're all dead, somebody's gonna get their ass shot, then bit by a flytrap!"]

[Tenzil goes into the Legion Leader's office for more privacy.]

The chances of any of you rookies wanting to take down the entire Legion, when it means Chronoblivion would make the multiverse go kaput, are slim. We think Rocket's innocent -- and if he's not, there needs be evidence that's a whole lot more reliable before charges are brought.

Kid Q's out of the loop -- stuck in the loop as it were -- so as Deputy Leader, I'm taking charge. While the rest of us are licking our wounds, I'm organizing a team from the Legionnaires that are still standing to investigate. It'll be a private affair. No reason the Science Police need to worry their pretty little heads over any possible investigations that might be running side-by-side with their own, right?

Some good news, by the by: other than 4 Science Police officers that went down in the first blast, we had no other fatal casualties. All the delegates survived, all but the 4 Scicops made it, there were no fatalities in the crowd, and even with taking our lumps we didn't lose any teammates. The Fatal Five had everything they needed to turn the attack into a massacre that could've destroyed two governments, and taken out the entire team. You did good.

Oh, and since we have some new people with absolutely impeccable timing, welcome to the Legion. Don't mind our dust. Or the multitudinous catastrophic injuries. If you have any general questions that aren't just "Why is absolutely everyone injured?" feel free to ask.

Comments

[googledox]

[Congrats, Robbie, you just instantly earned yourself a friend. For a moment, Brainy can only stare, and then the words slip out before he can stop them.

They may still be alive. The device created a confluence of dimensional energies that could have easily transported them elsewhere, and to conclude that they were simply vaporized when there was no evidence of any residue or --

[He snaps his mouth shut when he realizes it all just sounds like denial.]

Naturally, the scientific processes that were involved are difficult to explain to a public not educated in the complexities of manipulating the fabric of spacetime.

[His jaw goes rigid for a moment.]

And...likewise. Ah, in regards to concern for your well-being. I want to get you all home to your dimensional points of origin or alternate universes of your choosing -- and ensure that they aren't destroyed in an omnicidal catastrophe. It's my top priority.

[walkingballpit]

[ He flinches at the description. He can't help it. Why does everyone get vaporized? It's worse, now, because Robbie knows that Rich was aware of it happening.

No, not thinking about that. Think about this. He's got other examples in his life where people lived, and he can use those. ]

They're... they're probably still alive. I worked at a school that was located in the nanoverse, and before that there was this future... tourist, let's go with that, who replaced me and I got stuck in a kinetic energy pocket universe for a few months - I don't recommend that. Heck, the Fantastic Four lost an entire skyscraper for awhile, but weird stuff always happens at the Baxter Building.

[ Robbie scratches at the back of his wrist while he thinks about how to say this. He tilts his head and shrugs. ]

They don't know it's even a mistake yet. You don't know. They can't go around crucifying you on a maybe... I mean, they shouldn't.

[ Yeah, he's awful at this. He's going to stop trying, because he's making Brainy get defensive. Robbie knows that's never a good sign. ]

Thanks, but... I don't care. Spend your time getting your friends back, and... if you figure that one out, can you work on making sure mine are still alive when they get sent home? I - sorry. Nevermind. You've got enough on your mind.

[ Way to go, Robbie B. Dump more responsibility on the guy who's already overwhelmed. ]

[googledox]

[Brainy looks as if something is going to burst out of him as he speaks, but this is the first that someone's taken time to make it clear they really, truly understand.]

At one point in the Legion's history, there was a disaster with a space rift near Earth, caused by a malfunctioning stargate that exploded after it was tampered with by a race of conquering aliens known as the Blight. The Legion successfully shut down the rift before it destroyed Earth and the rest of the solar system, but a section of the Legion outpost broke off and fell through before it closed. Nine Legionnaires went missing in action, presumed dead for an entire year.

[His voice goes very dry.]

That presumption was...ill-informed. We survived, and though it took myself and my companions a year to navigate our way back to UP space from the Second Galaxy, all but two of us eventually found our way home.

[Though the loss of Jan and Monstress had been painful, the majority of the Lost Legionnaires had made it.]

I know better than anyone how unwise it is to give up hope, as one of the lost and as the sentient that was primarily responsible for engineering a way back to our galaxy. Getting my teammates home safely was my duty then and it still is now -- regardless of their original dimension of origin. You needn't worry about me having too much on my mind. [He taps his temple and smirks slightly, some of the arrogance shining through again.] 12th-level intellect, remember? There's a surplus of space.

[He'll carry these worries. It's his job. He's the sprocking smart one. "Self-note: Ensure displacee Legionnaires that were revived or otherwise taken from dangerous situations return home to their dimensions of origin unharmed" is already on the to-do list -- categorized with the same level of importance as "find missing teammates."]

I know that sometimes it's difficult to hold onto hope when it comes to these things...so I'll simply do it for all of you. I've had practice.

[walkingballpit]

[ The story surprises him, because it's such a close parallel to what's happened now. Okay, it's got completely different space details, but the Legion has gone missing before - and Brainiac's the one that fixed it. That's not a small coincidence. The public ought to be expecting he fix it.

It's because he's green, isn't it? It's always something moronic like that, and Robbie can't come out and ask if xenophobia is playing a role.

He wants to ask how they can blame the man who brought the Legion back the last time - but doesn't Robbie already know the answer? It doesn't matter how many times you save the city, the world, or the universe. The only time that ever matters is this one. Fuck it up, and that's all that will ever matter again. ]

Hope, yeah. [ Robbie forces a chuckle to inject some light back into his tone. ] Hoping's the real superpower. Everything else is just the light show, anymore. Like right now, I'm hoping to get you through thirty minutes straight without you telling me how smart you are.

[ The smile is teasing, but it's starting to warm his eyes back up. ]

I can help out though. I don't look that great in a cheerleader skirt, but I'm loud. I'm pretty good at pushing buttons and spinning around in wheelie chairs, too, so, if you need a fairly indestructible lab rat, my references are only a millennium out of date. It'll pay you back for the hope you're giving me.

[ Because he really is providing a bushel of it. The guy's dealt with rifts in the fabric of space, maybe - maybe. Robbie won't let the thought go further than that.

Maybe it'll be okay. ]

[googledox]

[A smile curves his lips. Never let it be said that he isn't aware of or doesn't have a sense of humor about his own arrogance.]

30 minutes is highly improbable. At last count, Tenzil said the current record -- as noted by the team betting pool -- was 19 minutes 13 seconds, recorded in a conversation I had with Gates where he had a multitude of banal opinions to share on politics.

[The only reason he went that long was that he spent most of the conversation tuning him out, but they still insisted it counted.]

[He looks amused at Robbie's offer of cheerleading. He finally finishes fixing his second inhibitor and snaps it back onto his face, wrinkling his nose slightly as he does it. Afterward, a noticeable tension in his shoulders relaxes. Otherwise, nothing else changes.]

The lab chairs hover. Wheels are so 20th century.

[To demonstrate, he kicks his way over to another end of the table in his hover-chair, and gets to work on something else. He still has a team-mate to reanimate, though the time loop around Kid Q is almost slowed to a stop in the background.]

I have no need for a lab rat, but I suppose I could use an occasional assistant, especially with my ever-increasing workload. The other Legionnaires that use the labs have their own projects they want to focus on.

My last lab assistant was a monkey of questionable superintelligence, so provided that you don't attempt to drink random chemicals out of beakers and don't attempt to groom my hair, you'll already be overqualified in comparison to Koko.

[walkingballpit]

There's a betting pool?

[ That's perfect, he thinks. That's exactly how it should be on a team. It feels - homey. Like he needs to start stockpiling decorations for a Christmas tree with a Menorah on top and all the ornaments are Kwanzaa cups... Robbie had big plans, for Christmas in Mount Wundagore. He's skipping a few holidays, because no one trick or treats Mount Wundagore or a space ship and because he can't cook.

... actually, Thanksgiving is doubly out. Robbie is not eating tofu for Thanksgiving - that's just wrong. He should find out if the holidays have changed, because he doesn't want to inflict the equivalent of Saturnalia on everyone.

Although they are in space. Maybe super old-school Saturnalia would be popular here -

Brainiac is showing off his hover chair. Definitely not. ]

Hey, I was born in the 20th century. It was a great century. The 1900s were the fine wine of history.

[ Like he even has a clue about the next 1000 years. ]

I worked at a lab in high school. Don't drink anything, don't even sniff anything, getting caught in the weird experimental ray gun's way was a complete accident and I blame the cat. Also - why would I groom your hair? Like I get it's a monkey joke, but I don't touch other people's hair.

Did you name your pet monkey after the gorilla? [ Of course, Robbie knows about Koko the Gorilla. There are cat videos with the gorilla. ] What happened to hating on the 20th century?

[googledox]

Of course there's a team betting pool. And I suppose any era with the discovery of penicillin and the widespread proliferation of indoor plumbing and electricity would stand out compared to others.

[There's a slight eyeroll, but it's more affectionate than anything. And it's an improvement compared to how he was about the past in the past. After spending time in the 21st century and having their dimension's Superboy spend time in the 31st he's learned to be a little less rude about the past. For instance, he's stopped calling the 20th and 21st century "the stupid ages."]

The monkey came with his name, however. He was a guest we brought with us after a part of the team was briefly trapped in the 21st century. [He was possibly named after the other Koko, but Brainy's never heard of her.] He left his illustrious position as my assistant to build his own simian society on a planet the Legion fought on once.

[He talks about it as if he didn't shed a few tears and hide in the lab for days.]

[walkingballpit]

Thank you. That's what I'm talking about - a little credit for flushable toilets and air conditioning.

[ Robbie is well aware that he is from, comparatively, the Dark Ages, but he hasn't felt too much like a fish out of water. Sure, everything's shiny and automated, but he hasn't come across anything that would be as mind-blowing as going back to 1016 and telling the peasants that, someday, there would be daily showers. ]

Seriously?! Your monkey was totally named after Koko. That's kind of awesome, naming a super-intelligent monkey after the gorilla that learned enough sign language to communicate. And she totally has pet cats, too. Had. The whole future thing is wreaking havoc with my tenses.

And, so... what you're saying is, the last guy who had the job is now rulling an entire planet. That's a helluva corporate ladder. I think I'm going to call my planet Bob, but I don't want to get too far ahead of myself.

[googledox]

I haven't the faintest idea what you're talking about, but quite a bit of Earth history hasn't survived to this century. The STAR Labs scientists that genetically engineered him may have indeed made a historical reference to another famous specimen in naming him.

[He tries to get away from the subject of Koko because he really did love that stupid monkey and shed an actual stupid tear over him choosing to stay on that planet. He smiles at Robbie's joke about naming a planet.]

I'm not sure that would be considered acceptable by UP planetary naming conventions, but if you throw in a completely random apostrophe or a hyphen somewhere, it'll be fine.

[walkingballpit]

[ Robbie looks disappointed that Brainiac doesn't quite get his references, but he's already explained who Koko the Gorilla was. There's no use beleaguering the point. They'll both wind up feeling dumb. ]

I think you guys need a new welcome ritual. Hello, you're on Legionworld. Try our complimentary telepathic brain dump of current pop culture references so you can banter with the best of 'em.

And it has an apostrophe and an umlaut. It's also only going to be written in a thorny, super serif font. Trés metal.

[googledox]

That would be taking it far too easy on you. You're going to have to learn it the hard way like everyone else: by watching lots of terrible television and reading reams of pointless falsified trivia about celebrities.

Seeing as there are hundreds of channels devoted to reality television alone, you really should get started. Never mind your Legionnaire classes, or superheroism, or saving the multiverse, it's imperative that you learn the names of all twenty-six of the Piquancy Sisters.

[There's All Spice, and Paprika, and Coriandar...]

[walkingballpit]

[ Robbie's laughing through it, but the thought of reality tv having taken over hundreds of channels makes him nauseous and pale. ]

Reality television. I'd rather make a fool of myself for the rest of my life, even if it's all spent here, than support reality ever again. That includes watching it.

[ He shouldn't be this upset about it, but Robbie would have preferred to continue thinking that things could be better in the future. A thousand years, nothing's better. ]

I don't care if my jokes suck from here to ... whatever the farthest quadrant is. Wow, I am so bad at space stuff.

[googledox]

It was a joke. There are -- unfortunately -- that many channels that feature it, but remember, there are quite a few planets in the UP. It's all certainly obnoxious but relatively innocuous, and certainly not required viewing.

[It's a very strange thing to get that upset about, but he can't say that he enjoys the newslinks with how often they take shots at him, so he figures it may be something like that. Something genuinely upsetting and distasteful it reminds Robbie of.]

I've been told by my friends that there's a proliferation of scripted entertainment that's quite enjoyable.

[He's been told.]

I don't actually watch or read or listen to most media myself and have no desire to start--and yet here I remain, a fully functional sentient being.

[walkingballpit]

[ Robbie will seize the chance to swerve this train onto another track, before he can get asked why he doesn't like what's obviously so popular when he doesn't have Brainy's astromical IQ raising him out of the target audience. ]

You don't watch tv, you don't read, you don't listen to the radio... what's there even left to do in your spare time? Oh - oh no. You're one of those, aren't you? You're a jogger. You totally are. Look how thin you are. I am not doing 10K with you, so don't even try it.

[ He's teasing - unless you're a jogger. Then he's 100% serious. ]

[googledox]

[Brainy's eyes roll skyward, but he looks more amused than annoyed.]

The omnicom device you're speaking to me on? I made it. The flight ring you were given? I also made that. The threshold gates you'll be using to deploy on missions and travel to other planets? I invented them, and perform regular maintenance and calibrations on the threshold hub to ensure you aren't lost between dimensions in transit. The transuit you'll be wearing in hostile environmental conditions? I manufactured that and tested it for proper functionality so that the next time you're exposed to the vacuum of space, you won't suddenly find yourself sans oxygen or atmospheric pressure due to a defect.

Every single piece of vital equipment that will keep you alive will be made or maintained by me, most of the life-saving mechanical devices that provide a scientific solution to the team's problems will be invented by me, and if there's any means to override the quantum ties the Time Trapper uses to connect you displacees to this universe so that you can go home, chances are it will be discovered by me.

So if you're wondering what occupies so much of my time...

[He wobbles a finger around like he's going to point at something -- anything else -- but then points it straight at the screen. At Robbie. Boop.]

[He's smirking, though.]

I could have free time to do my own high-energy physics experiments but noooo. You all have to travel to locations beyond Legion World, and communicate across large distances, and breathe while in vacuum. Terribly inconvenient.

[walkingballpit]

[ Robbie's immediate reaction a low, impressed whistle. Okay, that's a lot of patented contributions to society, as far as he can tell, and obviously Querl can back up the Brainy moniker.

The follow-up is still drier than the Sahara desert. ]

I'm resetting the timer. That counts as telling me how smart you are.

[ But the corner of his mouth pulls back into a half-smile at the finger point, and it stays in place even as Robbie gives off a sigh. ]

That's all work though. I'm glad I'm breathing, yes, we need to survive wherever you send us, I think your smartphone's better than anything StarkTech makes, flying is a definite improvement on getting towed around by the belt, I don't even know what a threshold hub is but I know I don't want to get stuck in yet another dimension - so thanks, really. I genuinely think you're awesome, and that's why I have to point out that high-energy physics experiments are just more work.

Maybe we should experiment with hobbies. Hint: they don't use beakers or ray guns.

[googledox]

[He looks amused at Robbie noting the timer resetting, and then faintly pleased at his compliments.]

[Even as he types away at a console one-handed, he lifts his chin slightly haughtily.]

Unless any of said hobbies involve qualitative research...meh.

[walkingballpit]

[ He is going to be plagued by exasperation. Robbie pauses for a moment to consider if that was meant in earnest. He honestly can't tell. ]

Qualitative... no. Wait - yes. Qualitative research on improvements made to strobe lights, distilled and brewed beverages, as well a symposium on future alien hotties and whether or not the perfect 10 survives in a post-base ten society.

With musical accompaniment, of course, to expand higher level cognitive reasoning functions.

[googledox]

Hmm. If this truly is meant to be empirical research, I'll confess that I'm wildly curious as to who exactly in the scientific community you think will be interested in your findings.

[Now he's going to talk about this like Robbie actually plans to do a legitimate scientific study. Because it's more fun that way.]

Scientists aren't exactly renowned for their sybaritic tendencies.

[walkingballpit]

[ Robbie isn't exactly dumb, but he does need to take a moment to look up sybaritic. It's not one that he heard thrown around too much, outside of SAT prep. ]

That's why everyone thinks nerd is a bad word! They pretend like they're not interested in anything that they can't figure out with an equation, but life - science - it's not all math. Don't get your compass in a twist; you wouldn't know what to work on without the rest of the world.

You have to show them that you can be as cool - what's the 31st century word for cool, or does your translator have my back?

[ That is suddenly an overriding question. He wants to sound current. ]

Besides, Ben Franklin was hella sybaritic. He played chess in bubble baths with, ahem, ladies of the night.

[googledox]

"Cool" translates properly, and even if it didn't, I know English and I've spent some time in the 21st century. According what was very liberally called news, my eyebrows were "fleek" and my attitude was perceived to be very "extra."

[He says all this with great amusement -- and some slight derision -- as he kicks around his lab in his hover chair, still working as he talks.]

You're wasting your time. I'm not whoever this Ben Franklin is. (I'm assuming a scientifically-inclined historical figure?) When it comes to getting me out of the lab to have "fun," more conniving sentients than you have made the attempt -- and failed.

But if you enjoy a completely impossible challenge, by all means, try.

[walkingballpit]

You know English? Huh. Somehow, that's disappointing. So is the idea that you probably would catch any references to movie aliens. Our friendship just got more boring.

[ The derision slicks right off his back. While Querl sounds smarter than most of the people who try to make Robbie feel small (he uses more syllables, anyway), that really doesn't improve banter. By the time he gets to "failed", Robbie is stifling a yawn and making no attempt to hide it. ]

I eat impossible for breakfast. My entire life is about striving. I'm after a challenge that makes you look like key lime pie, so don't think I won't do it in my spare time just to hear you say, oh what's that Querl? "You're right, Robbie, and I was wrong. This is fun, and it's all thanks to you."

[googledox]

[He bites his lip, but he can't stop himself from breaking into a smile. Not a lip twitch of amusement. Not a haughty smirk. A beaming smile. The fact he's so unpracticed with smiling that way does nothing to affect how it lights up his face.]

[It's rare that he meets people and likes them immediately. It's even rarer for people like him in return, to want to give him attention, especially the way Robbie's doing it. The UP public gives him plenty of negative attention, and his friends give him friendly attention, but even with his friends, they're sometimes overly cautious in giving him space, worried they might overstep bounds when he wants solitude.]

[It's not really their fault when the walls between them were constructed by him in the first place, and like true friends, they sometimes hop right over them and drag him away to be social if they think he really needs it. But the walls are still there. Having someone dance right over them and effectively declare that they'll keep doing it -- with gusto -- is new.]

[And flattering.]

[It isn't the first time someone's poked their nose into his life in a charming way, and that does cause a slight pang in his chest as he thinks of Lyle. But it's definitely the first time someone's done it while also being very...gentle.]

["I only wanted to make sure you were safe." "I'm glad you don't need my well-being, but you're stuck with it."]

[He likes that Robbie's first instinct was gentleness. Concern. Empathy.]

Whenever I'm not on a mission, you can find me in my lab. Good luck dislodging me when I'm capable of building a device I can use to affix myself to my chair with quantum entanglement.

[And with that, he starts to twirl off in his hover chair to work on something else and cuts off the feed.]

[He'll just leave the challenge there.]

[He has to leave it there because he's so overwhelmed by strangely fuzzy feelings that he's not entirely sure how to react.]