Mullet-verse fic: Dangers of Dihydrogen Monoxide, chapter 2
Title: Dangers of Dihydrogen Monoxide
Fandom: Justice League
Characters: Junior, Goldie, Robin (mention), Kon (mention), Booster/Beetle (mention), Androgenie, Pulsar, Max (mention)
Word Count: 2803
Rating: PG-13?
Author's Notes: Since the Boostle content in this will be minimal, I've decided to post it here in my own journal. New updates are linked to on boostle in the notes for stories that are actually Boostlecentric enough to be posted there.
Also, I had some free time recently and, instead of writing like I should've been, I played with pictures and came up with a TITLE GRAPHIC. Why? I don't know. I just don't know.
And because I'm apparently a glutton for punishment, I'm extending the "guess the ref" challenge from Chapter One to this chapter. It goes as such: "First five people to get the reference to a previous Mullet-verse fic can request a picture from me." There you are. Have at.
(LJ-cut quote is from David Rosenhan's On Being Sane in Insane Places.)
CHAPTERS: { Prologue }{ Chapter One }{ Chapter Two }{ Chapter Three }{ Chapter Four }{ Chapter Five }{ Chapter Six }{ Chapter Seven }{ Epilogue }
<-{ previous story: Legacies and Traditions } { next story: Little Boy Blue }->
Beta and suggestions by lakidaa.
~2nd Chapter
Junior's goggles are opaque for a reason.
While he mastered the art of the innocent look, and his pout and puppy dog eyes are downright lethal...he has trouble lying.
He's just never really understood the purpose of not saying exactly what you mean, and will sometimes resort to awkward silence in instances where he knows he probably shouldn't tell the truth but honestly can't think what else to say. He can lie, of course. Robin, Kon, Max, and just about everyone else he's ever known and/or trained with have made sure of that. But it's just easier for people to believe his lies if they can't see his eyes.
So his goggles are opaque.
On one of his first group missions as Blue Beetle, when he was still getting used to the new costume and codename, he shot one of the bad guys with his dartgun. He had tested that gun, over and over, and it worked under controlled conditions, and now out in the field it had worked beautifully. The guy went down, confused by the lack of cooperation from his limbs.
All the bad guy's buddies were either unconscious or escaped and they needed information. Fast.
So Junior told the man the dart contained poison.
And the man had scoffed at him, called his bluff. The man had heard of the Blue Beetle, and the Blue Beetle didn't believe in lethal force.
So Junior had knelt over the prone man, grinned a little, and quietly told him that he was a new Blue Beetle. The old one had (semi-)retired, and he was not your daddy's Blue Beetle.
"The paralysis kicks in pretty fast," he murmured, grin still in place. "And if I administer the antidote soon enough, you might eventually regain some movement in your extremities. At the least, you might be able to like, feel them. Tick-tock, tick-tock. But see, the paralysis is how you know it's already made its way to the brain. That's how it kills you, actually. If you can't move or feel...ooh, can't breathe, either. Tough break. You just...suffocate. Slowly. Because you can't move your lungs. And you'll stay awake for the whole thing, of course. Waiting for the lack of oxygen to finally kill you--Are you feeling any shortness of breath yet? Y'know, we could really use that information."
And the man had told them everything, all the while staring up at Junior with wide, scared eyes. And the funny thing about the power of suggestion was that by the time he was done he was hyperventilating.
"I toldja everything, man!" he gasped. "Gimmie the antidote."
So Junior had gotten out his dartgun, held it in his hands, stared down at it thoughtfully, fiddled with it a little, then spun it and stuck it back in its holster. Shooting the man a cheerful grin, he said he'd changed his mind.
As he started to walk out, he stopped for a moment to stoop down next to the man and whisper "Tick-tock" because sometimes his sense of humor was a little perverse. Then he had left the room, mind already moving on to another task, while behind him the man gasped and panted for breath that was only coming with difficulty because of his panic.
Moments later, T--Batman had grabbed his arm and shoved him to the side to demand what the hell he thought he was doing.
That was when Junior realized he had fooled not only the bad guy, he had fooled everyone in the room. His grin had apparently been just the right shade of deranged that people were trying to figure out if he was having some sort of nervous breakdown. Everyone thought he had poisoned a man and left him to die slowly.
There was an odd kind of thrill in that, knowing he had fooled people trained to detect lies, and also a squirm of unease at the same thing.
It doesn't matter how bad you tell a lie, apparently people will believe it if they think you're crazy.
Quietly, he told Batman that the dart wasn't poisonous, that none of his darts were poisonous, that he was following the Blue Beetle non-lethal force tradition, that he was very careful to make sure that his paralyzing darts only hindered general movement and not the internal organs. Batman had stared at him for a long moment, then given a curt nod and whirled with a dramatic snap of his cape to stalk back into the room.
After that, he always makes sure to carry "truth serum" darts.
And he tries not to use the deranged grin around anyone he knows.
---------------
They went home in Bug, and Blue was surprisingly quiet on the way. And then he was quiet afterward.
Goldie sent him off to bed, then peered through the door to watch curiously as he peeled off his cowl and goggles. He briefly got a little tangled in them, then set them aside and ran a hand through his hair with a thoughtful expression on his face.
His hair was a mess, more so than usual. He had obviously worked up a sweat earlier, and it had dried in the messy tangle. She wished she had shoved him in the direction of the shower first, but the stink of sweaty, unwashed male usually didn't escape his suit until he took it off.
The material was designed that way on purpose. It was good PR if the public came up for an autograph or a handshake or a hug and their hero didn't reek like he'd just been fighting someone twice his size. It wasn't as good for afterward, when he stripped down and the accumulated funk was finally freed.
Wrinkling her nose at the memory, Goldie went to her own room, stripped down, and let sleep take her.
When she woke, she threw on a t-shirt and shorts and went to check on Junior.
He wasn't in his room, and she soon found him in his lab, diligently typing away at the computer. As she leaned against the doorframe and watched, he sat back and drummed his fingers on the arm of the chair, clearly frustrated. She knocked lightly at the door and he started, whirling to face her.
"Hey," she said, voice still hoarse from sleep. "You okay, babe?"
"I'm fine, sweetie," he replied, smiling as he relaxed again. "Couldn't sleep so I thought I'd get some work in."
"You didn't get any sleep?" Goldie asked worriedly, then covered a yawn with one hand.
Junior yawned with her, then grimaced. "A little. I'm fine."
Looking him over, Goldie decided he'd probably gotten a shower in too. His hair had changed from post-heroing messy to recently washed messy. He looked a little tired, though. But pointing that out would be an exercise in futility, so she just sighed and shrugged, pushing herself away from the doorframe.
"I'm gonna fix something breakfasty before we head out to see if they've gotten anything from your basement guy," she said, jerking a thumb over her shoulder. "Want anything?"
Junior, already absorbed in whatever he was doing on the computer, waved a hand and said absently, "Sure."
Goldie waited a moment to see if he would specify what, in particular, he might like, but he just continued typing. Rolling her eyes, Goldie headed for the kitchen.
She ate, she shoved a bowl of cornflakes at Junior and told him to eat, she changed, she bullied Junior out of the lab and into his suit as well. They left.
When they got to the Watchtower, they were told that the mystery basement man had just regained consciousness and was going to be interrogated soon. Goldie dragged Blue off to the interrogation room and they looked through the one-way window at the man inside.
"Kinda weedy," Goldie remarked after a while.
And he was. The man was skinny, had a bad haircut, and looked completely bewildered.
Blue just shrugged and Goldie frowned at him. Before she could ask him, again, if he was really okay, Androgenie strode down the hallway toward them.
Andy was in female form and her hips swayed slightly as she walked. Sometimes Goldie wondered if Andy played up the sex appeal of that form on purpose or if the movement was just natural.
"That him?" Andy asked, peering through the window from behind them.
"That's him," Goldie confirmed.
Smoothing her hands down her sides, Andy straightened, then threw a flirty smirk at Blue. "How do I look?"
Blue smirked back. "Edible."
"Show time," Andy said, eyebrows raising as a sultry smile settled on her lips.
Goldie followed her to the door and smiled tightly. "I'll come with."
Shrugging, Andy entered the room with Goldie right behind. The man looked up, surprised, then glanced around the room and suddenly seemed to realize the reason for him being there. Nervously, he sat on one side of the small table.
"Y'know Blue's dating Pulsar, right?" Goldie muttered as she followed Andy to the other side of the table.
"No harm in flirting," Andy muttered back, taking a seat. "Blue didn't seem to mind."
Goldie just frowned as she stood behind Andy and watched the man for any threatening moves.
Outside, Blue crossed his arms over his chest and watched impassively as Andy questioned the increasingly nervous and confused man...and Goldie loomed with the skill of someone who had observed Batman do so for the express purpose of mimicking it to mock.
He suddenly jerked in surprise when a chin settled on his shoulder. Glancing over at the black-haired man with a purple visor, Blue jostled his shoulder to try to dislodge him.
Chuckling, Pulsar straightened and replaced his chin with his hand. Again, Blue jostled his shoulder. The hand stayed.
"That the basement boogieman?"
"Yeah," Blue said shortly. "Uh, what gives?"
At Pulsar's questioning look, Blue jostled his shoulder a third time. Pulsar grinned.
"I thought you wanted to watch the interrogation. But if you insist...." Trailing off with a mischievous smile, Pulsar wrapped his arms around Blue and kissed him full on the lips.
Inside the interrogation room, the mystery man was insisting he didn't have a clue what was going on when the sound of a body being hit and falling to the ground filtered through from outside. The man's eyes widened with fear.
"Issat what you're gonna do to me?" he squeaked, knuckles white as he gripped the edge of the table. "Hit me till I talk? I toldja, I don't know what happened!"
The two women ignored him and rushed to the door, pulling it open and staring out in surprise.
Laying on the ground was Pulsar, holding the side of his face and looking up at Blue with a mixture of hurt, confusion, and anger. Blue's body language was defensive and he looked tense and uncomfortable.
"...Does this mean I can go?" basement guy asked.
---------------
Before she left, Goldie told him that he could trust the doctors here, at least the ones he would be talking to, and he could tell them anything. Junior was skeptical, but nodded and said "Sure."
With nothing else to do in the white room, Junior started a stretching exercise. Junior's approach to exercise was that it should follow what his body needed right then, not any specific pattern. On any given day, his routine could include yoga, Tai Chi, dance moves, or just about anything that felt right at the time.
Goldie had once told him that it wasn't just random, it bordered on insane. But that had been after she'd joined him one day and tried to move from an eagle pose to chicken dance as fast as he had and ended up on her butt, so he hadn't paid much attention except to laugh.
"Oh, you laugh now, but just wait," she says, pointing up at him as he tries to control his snickering. "One day you're gonna Funky Chicken your way into the booby-hatch, and we'll just see who's laughing then."
He doesn't have the heart to tell her that Chicken Dance and Funky Chicken are two different dances....
He was halfway through the Time Warp when they came for him. Two large orderlies in white (of course), flanking him as they led him down the white hallway.
When they got to the room at the end, the inside was plain and off-white, with two comfortable-looking white chairs. There was a window off to the side, but the glass was frosted and dulled any color that might have been lurking outside.
When the doctor, with his pale skin and white hair and white coat, turned around to face him, Junior nearly hugged him right then and there. He was wearing a dark blue shirt, and even though it was partially covered by the white coat and matched up with a pair of pale khaki pants, nothing could mar the sheer, unadulterated joy of something so blatantly, beautifully Not White.
Motioning for Junior to take a seat, the doctor introduced himself as something that sounded like Mengele, but wasn't, and sat in the other chair.
"I want to help you...." Dr. not-Mengele said, and though he meant to pay attention, because he really wanted to get out of there, Junior's mind started wandering.
"Help?"
"No."
"Help?"
"No."
"Heeeeelp?"
"Nooooo."
"Michael Theodore Carter-Kord, get your ass over here and help me!"
Laughing, he takes one of the boxes from Goldie, revealing her irritated expression.
"You're a jerk, y'know that?"
"But you love me anyway," he replies, beaming.
"Stop being charming at me," she says, but she really means "Yes."
"--erratic behavior is cause for--"
"Skinning people is bad, right?"
"Yes. Yes it is."
So he writes it down in a little notebook, small enough to fit in a pocket, along with other things he learns. Society has rules and taboos and he'll never pass if he can't remember them. They aren't as instinctive for him as they are for other people, but he's learning. He's trying so hard. And he writes things in his notebook so he doesn't forget.
Skinning people is bad.
Don't openly mock authority figures. (Yet. Wait till you're older and have better judgement.)
Do as I say, not as I do.
Do NOT tell anyone what you're building in your closet. (Or what you're growing in there.)
If anyone asks, your mother is Michelle Carter, your father is Ted Kord, and your Uncle Mike is helping raise you.
"--worried about you, and with good cause--"
"...I don't know. It's still new to me. Maybe in five, ten years I'll get the intricacies of the life and mind of -- Sort of a born-again thing without any pesky religion -- Signals. Not...anything big, it's just sort of white noise, usually--"
"So...dad's gone?" Keeping the bat nearby because--
"...No, I just explained all that for a laugh. He's actually waiting outside with an April Fools Day cake. Gosh, you're just too clever for us -- Don't you trust me?"
Important. The answer is important. To Max especially. Why is--
Why is the memory so fuzzy? Like it's not even--
"--Michael?"
"Yeah, I was named after my...Uncle Mike."
"Michael?"
"They were twins."
"No, she died. ...When I was about seven."
"Michael!"
Junior jerked and inhaled sharply in surprise, head shooting up to look at Dr. not-Mengele. "I...I'm sorry, what?"
Fuzzy white eyebrows furrowing, Dr. not-Mengele frowned. "You seem distracted," he said slowly. "I said your name several times."
"Michael," Junior said abruptly, his mouth almost working independently of his brain for a second. "You called me--It's not my--I mean it is, but.... No one calls me Michael."
Dr. not-Mengele raised an eyebrow. "But that is your name."
"That's what it says on my birth certificate," Junior agreed resignedly, slumping a little in the white chair.
"Surely someone calls you Michael."
Junior shook his head, stopped to think about it, then shook his head again. "Nope. No one."
"In your entire life?" Dr. not-Mengele asked, leaning forward. "In your entire life, not one person has ever called you by your name? Friends, relatives, co-workers? Your mother, perhaps?"
Junior froze, thoughts sliding to a halt before shifting into high gear and automatically forcing him to keep his breath steady. "My mother?" he murmured thoughtfully.
Sitting back, Dr. not-Mengele nodded briefly. "I assume she was the one to give it to you in the first place? Surely she called you by it on occasion."
It made absolute, perfect, logical sense.
Clasping his hands in his lap, Junior closed his eyes and smiled the pleasant, placid smile that had been such a staple of his school years. "Yes...now that I think of it--I remember. My mother used to call me Michael. She was the only one."
-----
[Thanks and apologies to timemonkey for the use and abuse, respectively, of Pulsar. For anyone curious about Mullet-verse continuity, this story takes place between "way four" and "way five" of Five Ways Junior Got Lucky.)
[ETA of chapter the third: ...unknown]
Mullet-verse handbook/guide. (AKA "Are you as lost as I am?")
Fandom: Justice League
Characters: Junior, Goldie, Robin (mention), Kon (mention), Booster/Beetle (mention), Androgenie, Pulsar, Max (mention)
Word Count: 2803
Rating: PG-13?
Author's Notes: Since the Boostle content in this will be minimal, I've decided to post it here in my own journal. New updates are linked to on boostle in the notes for stories that are actually Boostlecentric enough to be posted there.
Also, I had some free time recently and, instead of writing like I should've been, I played with pictures and came up with a TITLE GRAPHIC. Why? I don't know. I just don't know.
And because I'm apparently a glutton for punishment, I'm extending the "guess the ref" challenge from Chapter One to this chapter. It goes as such: "First five people to get the reference to a previous Mullet-verse fic can request a picture from me." There you are. Have at.
(LJ-cut quote is from David Rosenhan's On Being Sane in Insane Places.)
CHAPTERS: { Prologue }{ Chapter One }{ Chapter Two }{ Chapter Three }{ Chapter Four }{ Chapter Five }{ Chapter Six }{ Chapter Seven }{ Epilogue }
<-{ previous story: Legacies and Traditions } { next story: Little Boy Blue }->
Beta and suggestions by lakidaa.
~2nd Chapter
Junior's goggles are opaque for a reason.
While he mastered the art of the innocent look, and his pout and puppy dog eyes are downright lethal...he has trouble lying.
He's just never really understood the purpose of not saying exactly what you mean, and will sometimes resort to awkward silence in instances where he knows he probably shouldn't tell the truth but honestly can't think what else to say. He can lie, of course. Robin, Kon, Max, and just about everyone else he's ever known and/or trained with have made sure of that. But it's just easier for people to believe his lies if they can't see his eyes.
So his goggles are opaque.
On one of his first group missions as Blue Beetle, when he was still getting used to the new costume and codename, he shot one of the bad guys with his dartgun. He had tested that gun, over and over, and it worked under controlled conditions, and now out in the field it had worked beautifully. The guy went down, confused by the lack of cooperation from his limbs.
All the bad guy's buddies were either unconscious or escaped and they needed information. Fast.
So Junior told the man the dart contained poison.
And the man had scoffed at him, called his bluff. The man had heard of the Blue Beetle, and the Blue Beetle didn't believe in lethal force.
So Junior had knelt over the prone man, grinned a little, and quietly told him that he was a new Blue Beetle. The old one had (semi-)retired, and he was not your daddy's Blue Beetle.
"The paralysis kicks in pretty fast," he murmured, grin still in place. "And if I administer the antidote soon enough, you might eventually regain some movement in your extremities. At the least, you might be able to like, feel them. Tick-tock, tick-tock. But see, the paralysis is how you know it's already made its way to the brain. That's how it kills you, actually. If you can't move or feel...ooh, can't breathe, either. Tough break. You just...suffocate. Slowly. Because you can't move your lungs. And you'll stay awake for the whole thing, of course. Waiting for the lack of oxygen to finally kill you--Are you feeling any shortness of breath yet? Y'know, we could really use that information."
And the man had told them everything, all the while staring up at Junior with wide, scared eyes. And the funny thing about the power of suggestion was that by the time he was done he was hyperventilating.
"I toldja everything, man!" he gasped. "Gimmie the antidote."
So Junior had gotten out his dartgun, held it in his hands, stared down at it thoughtfully, fiddled with it a little, then spun it and stuck it back in its holster. Shooting the man a cheerful grin, he said he'd changed his mind.
As he started to walk out, he stopped for a moment to stoop down next to the man and whisper "Tick-tock" because sometimes his sense of humor was a little perverse. Then he had left the room, mind already moving on to another task, while behind him the man gasped and panted for breath that was only coming with difficulty because of his panic.
Moments later, T--Batman had grabbed his arm and shoved him to the side to demand what the hell he thought he was doing.
That was when Junior realized he had fooled not only the bad guy, he had fooled everyone in the room. His grin had apparently been just the right shade of deranged that people were trying to figure out if he was having some sort of nervous breakdown. Everyone thought he had poisoned a man and left him to die slowly.
There was an odd kind of thrill in that, knowing he had fooled people trained to detect lies, and also a squirm of unease at the same thing.
It doesn't matter how bad you tell a lie, apparently people will believe it if they think you're crazy.
Quietly, he told Batman that the dart wasn't poisonous, that none of his darts were poisonous, that he was following the Blue Beetle non-lethal force tradition, that he was very careful to make sure that his paralyzing darts only hindered general movement and not the internal organs. Batman had stared at him for a long moment, then given a curt nod and whirled with a dramatic snap of his cape to stalk back into the room.
After that, he always makes sure to carry "truth serum" darts.
And he tries not to use the deranged grin around anyone he knows.
---------------
They went home in Bug, and Blue was surprisingly quiet on the way. And then he was quiet afterward.
Goldie sent him off to bed, then peered through the door to watch curiously as he peeled off his cowl and goggles. He briefly got a little tangled in them, then set them aside and ran a hand through his hair with a thoughtful expression on his face.
His hair was a mess, more so than usual. He had obviously worked up a sweat earlier, and it had dried in the messy tangle. She wished she had shoved him in the direction of the shower first, but the stink of sweaty, unwashed male usually didn't escape his suit until he took it off.
The material was designed that way on purpose. It was good PR if the public came up for an autograph or a handshake or a hug and their hero didn't reek like he'd just been fighting someone twice his size. It wasn't as good for afterward, when he stripped down and the accumulated funk was finally freed.
Wrinkling her nose at the memory, Goldie went to her own room, stripped down, and let sleep take her.
When she woke, she threw on a t-shirt and shorts and went to check on Junior.
He wasn't in his room, and she soon found him in his lab, diligently typing away at the computer. As she leaned against the doorframe and watched, he sat back and drummed his fingers on the arm of the chair, clearly frustrated. She knocked lightly at the door and he started, whirling to face her.
"Hey," she said, voice still hoarse from sleep. "You okay, babe?"
"I'm fine, sweetie," he replied, smiling as he relaxed again. "Couldn't sleep so I thought I'd get some work in."
"You didn't get any sleep?" Goldie asked worriedly, then covered a yawn with one hand.
Junior yawned with her, then grimaced. "A little. I'm fine."
Looking him over, Goldie decided he'd probably gotten a shower in too. His hair had changed from post-heroing messy to recently washed messy. He looked a little tired, though. But pointing that out would be an exercise in futility, so she just sighed and shrugged, pushing herself away from the doorframe.
"I'm gonna fix something breakfasty before we head out to see if they've gotten anything from your basement guy," she said, jerking a thumb over her shoulder. "Want anything?"
Junior, already absorbed in whatever he was doing on the computer, waved a hand and said absently, "Sure."
Goldie waited a moment to see if he would specify what, in particular, he might like, but he just continued typing. Rolling her eyes, Goldie headed for the kitchen.
She ate, she shoved a bowl of cornflakes at Junior and told him to eat, she changed, she bullied Junior out of the lab and into his suit as well. They left.
When they got to the Watchtower, they were told that the mystery basement man had just regained consciousness and was going to be interrogated soon. Goldie dragged Blue off to the interrogation room and they looked through the one-way window at the man inside.
"Kinda weedy," Goldie remarked after a while.
And he was. The man was skinny, had a bad haircut, and looked completely bewildered.
Blue just shrugged and Goldie frowned at him. Before she could ask him, again, if he was really okay, Androgenie strode down the hallway toward them.
Andy was in female form and her hips swayed slightly as she walked. Sometimes Goldie wondered if Andy played up the sex appeal of that form on purpose or if the movement was just natural.
"That him?" Andy asked, peering through the window from behind them.
"That's him," Goldie confirmed.
Smoothing her hands down her sides, Andy straightened, then threw a flirty smirk at Blue. "How do I look?"
Blue smirked back. "Edible."
"Show time," Andy said, eyebrows raising as a sultry smile settled on her lips.
Goldie followed her to the door and smiled tightly. "I'll come with."
Shrugging, Andy entered the room with Goldie right behind. The man looked up, surprised, then glanced around the room and suddenly seemed to realize the reason for him being there. Nervously, he sat on one side of the small table.
"Y'know Blue's dating Pulsar, right?" Goldie muttered as she followed Andy to the other side of the table.
"No harm in flirting," Andy muttered back, taking a seat. "Blue didn't seem to mind."
Goldie just frowned as she stood behind Andy and watched the man for any threatening moves.
Outside, Blue crossed his arms over his chest and watched impassively as Andy questioned the increasingly nervous and confused man...and Goldie loomed with the skill of someone who had observed Batman do so for the express purpose of mimicking it to mock.
He suddenly jerked in surprise when a chin settled on his shoulder. Glancing over at the black-haired man with a purple visor, Blue jostled his shoulder to try to dislodge him.
Chuckling, Pulsar straightened and replaced his chin with his hand. Again, Blue jostled his shoulder. The hand stayed.
"That the basement boogieman?"
"Yeah," Blue said shortly. "Uh, what gives?"
At Pulsar's questioning look, Blue jostled his shoulder a third time. Pulsar grinned.
"I thought you wanted to watch the interrogation. But if you insist...." Trailing off with a mischievous smile, Pulsar wrapped his arms around Blue and kissed him full on the lips.
Inside the interrogation room, the mystery man was insisting he didn't have a clue what was going on when the sound of a body being hit and falling to the ground filtered through from outside. The man's eyes widened with fear.
"Issat what you're gonna do to me?" he squeaked, knuckles white as he gripped the edge of the table. "Hit me till I talk? I toldja, I don't know what happened!"
The two women ignored him and rushed to the door, pulling it open and staring out in surprise.
Laying on the ground was Pulsar, holding the side of his face and looking up at Blue with a mixture of hurt, confusion, and anger. Blue's body language was defensive and he looked tense and uncomfortable.
"...Does this mean I can go?" basement guy asked.
---------------
Before she left, Goldie told him that he could trust the doctors here, at least the ones he would be talking to, and he could tell them anything. Junior was skeptical, but nodded and said "Sure."
With nothing else to do in the white room, Junior started a stretching exercise. Junior's approach to exercise was that it should follow what his body needed right then, not any specific pattern. On any given day, his routine could include yoga, Tai Chi, dance moves, or just about anything that felt right at the time.
Goldie had once told him that it wasn't just random, it bordered on insane. But that had been after she'd joined him one day and tried to move from an eagle pose to chicken dance as fast as he had and ended up on her butt, so he hadn't paid much attention except to laugh.
"Oh, you laugh now, but just wait," she says, pointing up at him as he tries to control his snickering. "One day you're gonna Funky Chicken your way into the booby-hatch, and we'll just see who's laughing then."
He doesn't have the heart to tell her that Chicken Dance and Funky Chicken are two different dances....
He was halfway through the Time Warp when they came for him. Two large orderlies in white (of course), flanking him as they led him down the white hallway.
When they got to the room at the end, the inside was plain and off-white, with two comfortable-looking white chairs. There was a window off to the side, but the glass was frosted and dulled any color that might have been lurking outside.
When the doctor, with his pale skin and white hair and white coat, turned around to face him, Junior nearly hugged him right then and there. He was wearing a dark blue shirt, and even though it was partially covered by the white coat and matched up with a pair of pale khaki pants, nothing could mar the sheer, unadulterated joy of something so blatantly, beautifully Not White.
Motioning for Junior to take a seat, the doctor introduced himself as something that sounded like Mengele, but wasn't, and sat in the other chair.
"I want to help you...." Dr. not-Mengele said, and though he meant to pay attention, because he really wanted to get out of there, Junior's mind started wandering.
"Help?"
"No."
"Help?"
"No."
"Heeeeelp?"
"Nooooo."
"Michael Theodore Carter-Kord, get your ass over here and help me!"
Laughing, he takes one of the boxes from Goldie, revealing her irritated expression.
"You're a jerk, y'know that?"
"But you love me anyway," he replies, beaming.
"Stop being charming at me," she says, but she really means "Yes."
"--erratic behavior is cause for--"
"Skinning people is bad, right?"
"Yes. Yes it is."
So he writes it down in a little notebook, small enough to fit in a pocket, along with other things he learns. Society has rules and taboos and he'll never pass if he can't remember them. They aren't as instinctive for him as they are for other people, but he's learning. He's trying so hard. And he writes things in his notebook so he doesn't forget.
Skinning people is bad.
Don't openly mock authority figures. (Yet. Wait till you're older and have better judgement.)
Do as I say, not as I do.
Do NOT tell anyone what you're building in your closet. (Or what you're growing in there.)
If anyone asks, your mother is Michelle Carter, your father is Ted Kord, and your Uncle Mike is helping raise you.
"--worried about you, and with good cause--"
"...I don't know. It's still new to me. Maybe in five, ten years I'll get the intricacies of the life and mind of -- Sort of a born-again thing without any pesky religion -- Signals. Not...anything big, it's just sort of white noise, usually--"
"So...dad's gone?" Keeping the bat nearby because--
"...No, I just explained all that for a laugh. He's actually waiting outside with an April Fools Day cake. Gosh, you're just too clever for us -- Don't you trust me?"
Important. The answer is important. To Max especially. Why is--
Why is the memory so fuzzy? Like it's not even--
"--Michael?"
"Yeah, I was named after my...Uncle Mike."
"Michael?"
"They were twins."
"No, she died. ...When I was about seven."
"Michael!"
Junior jerked and inhaled sharply in surprise, head shooting up to look at Dr. not-Mengele. "I...I'm sorry, what?"
Fuzzy white eyebrows furrowing, Dr. not-Mengele frowned. "You seem distracted," he said slowly. "I said your name several times."
"Michael," Junior said abruptly, his mouth almost working independently of his brain for a second. "You called me--It's not my--I mean it is, but.... No one calls me Michael."
Dr. not-Mengele raised an eyebrow. "But that is your name."
"That's what it says on my birth certificate," Junior agreed resignedly, slumping a little in the white chair.
"Surely someone calls you Michael."
Junior shook his head, stopped to think about it, then shook his head again. "Nope. No one."
"In your entire life?" Dr. not-Mengele asked, leaning forward. "In your entire life, not one person has ever called you by your name? Friends, relatives, co-workers? Your mother, perhaps?"
Junior froze, thoughts sliding to a halt before shifting into high gear and automatically forcing him to keep his breath steady. "My mother?" he murmured thoughtfully.
Sitting back, Dr. not-Mengele nodded briefly. "I assume she was the one to give it to you in the first place? Surely she called you by it on occasion."
It made absolute, perfect, logical sense.
Clasping his hands in his lap, Junior closed his eyes and smiled the pleasant, placid smile that had been such a staple of his school years. "Yes...now that I think of it--I remember. My mother used to call me Michael. She was the only one."
-----
[Thanks and apologies to timemonkey for the use and abuse, respectively, of Pulsar. For anyone curious about Mullet-verse continuity, this story takes place between "way four" and "way five" of Five Ways Junior Got Lucky.)
[ETA of chapter the third: ...unknown]
Mullet-verse handbook/guide. (AKA "Are you as lost as I am?")