Previously: Scattered across space, time, reality and the world, the various members of the Doom Patrol have finally been reunited.
Everyone needs a rest, but there are still a lot of things to sort through and deal with…
Elastic Girl and Mento:
The ornate, old movie theater was sparsely filled. Most rows were empty. The occupied ones only contained two or three people: various members of the eclectic population of Danny the street.
Far in the back, in the middle of the row, sat Mento.
He was skinny, his yellow bodysuit hung baggily on him. His head gear resembled a World War one soldier’s helmet, made from purple plastic. He also were a purple domino mask.
His posture was stiff and he stared straight ahead at the blank screen.
He had not seen the just finished movie, nor did he seem aware when the next one would start, or the presence of any of the audience members or ushers moving around him.
He was looking beyond, using the large movie screen to focus the massive mental energy, granted to him by his helmet, to act as sentinel, against an impending threat only he seemed aware of. A threat that he believed only he possessed the power to deal with.
Mento had left his post, briefly, to assist his teammates, and the anxious feeling in his chest, that the threat could have approached Earth in his absence, threatened to derail his focus and psychic prowess. *
( * as you know, loyal reader, from the past four issues- Trav)
“Is this seat taken?” A voice asked.
Without waiting for a reply, Rita Farr sat down next to him. She wore her original red and white skirt costume and purple go-go boots.
“Larry told me you came out to help the team,” She said, gently. “Thank you. I know you’ve been busy…had a lot on your mind….”
“I…I need to be here…but, I couldn’t…,” Mento muttered, his gaze remaining focused upon the blank screen.
“You needed me…I’ve let you down before.”
“Well, every couple has their problems,” Rita shrugged, causing her height to shoot up a foot.
“No,” Mento interrupted, turning his gaze toward Rita. “You’ve always been there, when I… Steve Dayton…Mento needed you. I was never good at returning the favor. I let you down…as a teammate and…as a husband.”
“No, don’t…!” Rita said, laying a hand on his arm. “We…”
“No,” Mento said, with an emphatic shake of his head. “I wanted to be there for you…prove myself, but I’m not… Steve Dayton is not a good man. Mento might be, but, lately, I can’t tell which is true? Which is real? Which one is…me?“
He tapped at his helmet.
“This makes me better, smarter, a hero and a better man, but I sometimes think it’s all a lie.”
Rita put her arm through his and gave a squeeze. Adjusting her size, she then laid her head on Mento’s shoulder.
“Maybe,” She said, softly. “But I don’t know if that even matters. Who are we? Are you Mento or are you Steve Dayton? Am I Rita Farr or am I just a blob that was told its Rita Farr? What are we missing out on, how much time have we wasted, because we can’t stop thinking… asking… so obsessed with trying to figure it out?”
She reached up and gently touched his helmet.
“I don’t know who is in there.” She said.
She then tapped her own temple.
“I’m not a hundred percent sure who is in here either. Maybe, we need to stop thinking so much,” She suggested.
“I…don’t know…don’t know if I can,” He muttered in reply, his mouth twitching in an unsteady attempt at a smile.
“Me neither. Maybe we should just watch the movie. What’s playing?”
“The Sea Devils.”
“I’m in that one!” Rita smiled.
“I know.”
Coagula and Bast:
Kate Godwin, part time super hero, and full-time owner and operator of the Caffeine Deim coffee emporium, lived in an apartment above the shop.
Unlike the quiet oasis of calm and order that the coffee shop was for the citizens of Danny the street, Kate’s apartment was a one-bedroom realm of chaos: books stacked haphazardly, coffee cups left wherever there was a flat surface. The bed room looked like a thrift shop had exploded.
The bed was a tangled nest of sheets, pillows and clothes.
After several moments, the pile of sheets moved, a hand reached out, fumbled around, searching through the clutter on the bedside table. It grabbed the plastic alarm clock and pulled it closer.
There was a low, faint groan and Kate sat up, pushing the tangled sheets aside, yawning and stretching.
She squinted around scratching her head, realized her hair was a tangled mess and she was naked, except for a necklace and a single sock.
She gave a slight shiver. Worried Danny the street had materialized at the North Pole again, Kate pulled up one of the blankets and drew it over her shoulders.
This revealed the naked, except for a few bits of jewelry, alien cat woman curled up on the other side of the bed.
As memory came flooding back, Kate went briefly wide-eyed and then smiled. She reached down to absently stroke Bast’s furry back. This caused Bast’s tail it whip back and forth.
“What…?” The cat woman murmured, with sleepy, mock aggravation. “Again…? Don’t you get enough?”
“Me?” Kate mused coyly, lowering her blanket. “I didn’t put these scratches on my shoulder.”
“Oh,” Bast said, sitting up, and gently touching the claw marks running down Kate’s shoulder. “I am sorry…!”
“Don’t be,” Kate smiled, pulling the blanket back up. “You haven’t had sex in a thousand years…I kind of suspected what I might be letting myself in for.”
She leaned back, resting against her furry bedmate, savoring the softness and warmth.
“I have…concerns about this,” Bast said, quietly, leaning her chin on Kate’s shoulder. “Are you laughing?”
“Yeah, a little,” Kate said. “Bast, I’m a transgender metahuman lesbian. I have heard the regretful, next morning speech so many times, I have it memorized. Just never thought it was a thing on other planets too.”
“What…?” Bast said, sitting up and frowning. “It’s not about…sex. That was quite nice…and my people are evolved enough to be honest about following our impulses. My concern, is not you and I being intimate, but rather the emotional aspect. I value the Doom Patrol for taking me in, and the connection you and I have forged, but I cannot stay on Earth indefinitely. At some point, I will have to return home…I have family and responsibilities…even if I don’t choose to leave, at some point, they will seek me out. I am also less concerned in the difference in our species, but in our life spans.”
“Oh, that’s right, on top of everything else, you’re a goddess,” Kate said. “I had to sleep with a career woman.”
“I don’t think you are taking this seriously,” Bast frowned.
“What? That you think a long-term relationship might not work because someday a spaceship is going to appear in the sky and beam you away?” Kate asked, turning around to face Bast. “Hon, my life has been crazy since I was thirteen. The fact that you want to stick around is never going to be a problem.”
She leaned in and kissed Bast, then rested her forehead against the alien woman’s furry brow.
“Let’s get through today,” Kate smiled. “We’ll worry about tomorrow…or forever, after I’ve had some coffee.”
“Fair enough.”
“Good,” Kate said, nodding. “Now, put some clothes on, you hussy. I run a respectable coffee shop.”
Robotman and Niles Caulder:
Robert Crane stood in front of the slumped form of Cliff Steele. He leaned in, until his iron face was mere inches away from the other’s orange, alloy features.
“Bit like finding a long-lost brother, I would imagine.”
Robert stood up and turned, his fists clenched.
“Relax. I didn’t mean to startle you.” The older, bearded man said. “I apologize.”
He wore work clothes and was holding two mugs of steaming hot coffee.
“I’m Niles.” He said, coming into the room. He held out one of the mugs.
“I appreciate the thought,” Crane said. “But I can’t drink that.”
He relaxed his hands and gestured at the coffee cup.
“I was going to offer,” The older man said, walking past the metal man. “But this one isn’t for you.”
He placed the cup on the small dresser, next to the couch on which the inert metal man was slumped.
“Larry says it might get his attention. That’s also why the jazz is playing as well.”
“He can smell the coffee?” Crane asked.
“Yes, so I’m told,” Niles nodded, taking a sip of coffee. “They keep thinking I can fix him, but he’s…a bit of a miracle.”
He shrugged, turned and walked to the door, gesturing for the metal man to follow him. The front of the building was a mix of appliance store and work shop.
Niles went and sat at the workbench, setting down his cup.
“They think I can fix him,” He said, ruefully. “Look, at what I fix here…”
He gestured at a blender, a mini-refrigerator and an old model television.
“Not sure how that makes me an expert on robots,” He continued. “You, I probably could, your metal work and older systems, but Cliff…”
He shrugged again.
“I’m…confused,” Robert Crane muttered. “I mean, I’ve been nothing but confused, since I woke up, but…aren’t you, the Chief? The others keep mentioning you?”
“Yes, well,” Niles chuckled. “That’s tricky. You see, something…happened, I’m a bit vague on that part, but it affected space and time. Danny,…you know about Danny?”
“Sort of. It doesn’t make much sense.”
“You’ll get used to that. Anyway, Danny needed help, so he gathered together the Doom Patrol. The problem was, with reality all jumbled and battered, he didn’t always get the ones he was aiming for. I am ‘A’ Niles Caulder, but not ‘THE’ Niles Caulder…not Professor Caulder, or the Chief, just Niles, the fellow that fixes toasters.”
“So, you’re not…you have no connection to the Doom Patrol?” Crane asked.
“Well, I did meet a version of Cliff Steele, once,” Niles shrugged. “He was nothing like our friend on the couch, but otherwise, no.”
Robot man shook his head.
“I don’t wish to sound negative,” Niles said, gently. “Or make it sound like I’ve been abducted, torn away from my happy life. I was…not in a good place, when Danny found me. I may not understand a great deal of this, but they gave me shelter, an opportunity to reassess my life, and maybe find a bit of peace and purpose. I try to help, where I can, in return, but they seem incapable of admitting I’m not the Chief. Maybe, they’re just being kind…?”
Robot man shook his head again, glanced about and then gingerly attempted to perch on a tall, wooden stool. It creaked worrisomely under his weight, but held.
His metal face was incapable of showing emotion or any change in expression, but Crane’s posture made it obvious he was feeling overwhelmed by his new situation. Each new answer seemed to suggest several more questions.
“We might be able to help each other,” Niles suggested. “I could use some help from someone who understands science, especially robotics, more than I do and it seems like you could use a ‘tour guide’.”
Crane nodded thoughtfully.
Once they’d returned to Danny the street, the various members of the Doom Patrol had scattered, each to deal with matters: personal, health related or just dealing with the general craziness of their recent jaunt around the world and beyond.
This had left the orphaned Robot man feeling abandoned and lost.
Rita had found him a room, but having apparently been asleep for fifty years, and having no need to eat or take a shower, he’d grown restless and bored after ten minutes.
He’d spent an hour wandering Danny the street.
He chatted with several people who mistook him for Cliff Steele, helped get a balloon out of a tree for a child, listened to the music coming from the record shop, replenished his nutrient tank from the water fountain in the park and then had spotted the fix it shop and recognized the name.
“I appreciate the offer,” He said, extending his metal hand. “Maybe we can help each other.”
Larry Trainor and Negative man:
Upon returning to Danny the street, Larry had felt like a wet dishrag given human form.
He managed to stagger back to his apartment and collapse on his unmade bed. He hated dumping the job of finding Rita and the others to Flex, Mallah and the rest, but the drain of using Negative man so much, not to mention the constant low-level stress of trying to keep up the pretense that he knew what he was doing as the leader of the Doom Patrol, had taken all his energy: physical, mental and emotional.
He lay sprawled on his bed; unsure how much time had passed since he’d fallen asleep.
He still ached, but the ‘to the bone’ weariness had faded a bit. He felt like his coping skills had been replenished slightly.
There was another feeling, a worrying one. The weakness and that strange hollow he felt in his chest, whenever Negative man had been sent free.
Squinting in the afternoon light, Larry struggled to sit up. His limbs felt like over boiled spaghetti and he collapsed back on the bed.
He blinked, choosing to look around, since moving wasn’t an option.
The Negative man was hovering above him. A solid black form, crackling with other-worldly energy, sitting, Indian-style, in mid-air.
The ebony figure was featureless, but Larry still felt he was being looked at, intently studied.
‘What…?” Larry mumbled, weakly. “What are you doing? What do you want?”
The Negative man, looking like a shadow grown solid, floated above Larry, giving the impression that any moment, it was going to speak.
“Why…?” Larry muttered, shaking his head slowly, channeling the little reserve of energy he into his voice. ‘We’ve been stuck…together for so long…what do you want…?”
He could feel his body weakening. It felt so strange, having the Negative man separated from him by mere inches and still feel the slow death.
And there was no villain’s trap separating them, merely, somehow the black silhouette creature choosing to leave, and then choosing not to return.
“Why…?” Larry asked again, his voice weak and raspy.
What had changed? What had awoken some spark of rebellious personality in the energy creature or had it always been there? Had the Negative man done this before and this was the first time Larry had noticed?
Had the Negative man felt trapped in their symbiotic relationship? Had he seen Larry as some kind of fleshy prison?
Was this an escape attempt?
Were they two prisoners, who both resented the other, thinking they were the jailer?
Larry lay there, unsure what to do. Too weak to move, yet, no idea if the Negative man’s actions served a purpose, or was it just going to let him die, while it watched?
Despite its lack of features, he could feel the energy being’s gaze, searching and emphatic. Yet, the motivation for its actions completely eluded him
It hesitantly reached out, stopping with its fingertips a hairs breadth from Larry’s bandaged face.
At first, Larry flinched, thinking it was going to strike him, but its movements were halting and gentle, as though it wished to stroke his face, but didn’t have the courage to.
It suddenly pulled back, and Larry could swear he heard a sound, almost a sigh.
The crackling energy nimbus around the Negative man flared and it opened its arms wide and sank into Larry’s body, like it was falling into a pool.
Larry sat up, gasping, as a surge of energy hit him.
He ran his hands over his chest.
“What the hell just happened…?”
Cliff Steele and Crazy Jane:
He lay back, feeling the sun on his face and on his eyelids. Lazy and contented, after a picnic lunch and a nap under the idyllic, blue, summer sky.
A faint, slightly perfumed breeze ruffled his hair.
“Cliff?”
“Hmmm…?” He replied, not opening his eyes.
“Today has been nice.”
Cliff smiled, opened his eyes and gazed up at Jane. He’d been sleeping with his head in her lap. With one hand she absently stroked his hair, the other had a finger stuck in her a book, to hold her place.
“Yeah, it has been.”
Cliff lazily reached out and ran his fingers through the grass.
“But, we can’t stay here forever,” Jane continued, pensively. “Things are happening. You know they are going to need us.”
“Yeah, I know,” Cliff sighed, gruffly. “The Doom Patrol would be lost without me.”
“They’re your friends…our friends.” Jane chided him, gently.
“Just feels like the more I save the Patrol, the more they need saving,” Cliff grumbled, sitting up. “Guess I might as well, otherwise, they’ll just mess it up.”
Jane frowned, hunting around for her bookmark.
“Hey,” Cliff said gently, reaching out and touching her cheek.
“What?”
“I love you, Jane.”
“I love you too, my sheltering Cliff.” She said, smiling.
“We will go and help the Patrol,” Cliff said. “You know that. They’re more than my friends. They’re family.”
“I know.”
“But, not today.” He continued.
She leaned in, and kissed the tip of his nose.
“Okay, not today.”
‘And I get the last piece of pie.”
Epilogue:
Papercut and Mallah:
The two super villain residents of Danny the street, trudged up the dirt road, onto Danny’s pavement and sank onto the nearest bench.
“Man, that sucked!” Papercut muttered. “I can’t believe none of the others showed up! Where the heck is everybody?”
“Idiots,” The gorilla grunted, idly reloading his guns. “Probably all preoccupied with their various personal dramas.”
“Everyone got back, I think,” Papercut said, looking around. He rubbed his arm. “Gonna be sore in the morning…!”*
(*Relax, you haven’t missed anything. We’ll find out what happened in a couple of issues- Trav)
“Well, we’ve saved the innocent and vanquished evil,” Mallah said, absently, as he continued the maintenance of his weapons. “I think that calls for a cup of coffee. Coming?”
“Naw,” Papercut said, shaking his head. “Think I’m gonna go check on Flex…see where everyone ended up. We might have missed something bad…?”
Next Issue: What was Flex Mentallo up to?
Author’s note:
Sorry, no punching this issue.
After the craziness of the last couple issues, and the brief hiatus caused by the craziness of real life, I thought we needed a breather: let everyone know what the status quo was for our cast, as well as sprinkle some bread crumbs for stories to come.
This is the first story of a “calm before the storm” trilogy: a series of done in ones, just for fun stories, before moving on to some of the bigger arcs.
Next is a spotlight on Flex Mentallo, and after that, we find out what happened to Papercut and Mallah.
Then Mallah’s quest for the missing Brain, as well as bunch of stuff involving Robot man and the Chief.
And there will be more aliens!
Everyone needs a rest, but there are still a lot of things to sort through and deal with…
Elastic Girl and Mento:
The ornate, old movie theater was sparsely filled. Most rows were empty. The occupied ones only contained two or three people: various members of the eclectic population of Danny the street.
Far in the back, in the middle of the row, sat Mento.
He was skinny, his yellow bodysuit hung baggily on him. His head gear resembled a World War one soldier’s helmet, made from purple plastic. He also were a purple domino mask.
His posture was stiff and he stared straight ahead at the blank screen.
He had not seen the just finished movie, nor did he seem aware when the next one would start, or the presence of any of the audience members or ushers moving around him.
He was looking beyond, using the large movie screen to focus the massive mental energy, granted to him by his helmet, to act as sentinel, against an impending threat only he seemed aware of. A threat that he believed only he possessed the power to deal with.
Mento had left his post, briefly, to assist his teammates, and the anxious feeling in his chest, that the threat could have approached Earth in his absence, threatened to derail his focus and psychic prowess. *
( * as you know, loyal reader, from the past four issues- Trav)
“Is this seat taken?” A voice asked.
Without waiting for a reply, Rita Farr sat down next to him. She wore her original red and white skirt costume and purple go-go boots.
“Larry told me you came out to help the team,” She said, gently. “Thank you. I know you’ve been busy…had a lot on your mind….”
“I…I need to be here…but, I couldn’t…,” Mento muttered, his gaze remaining focused upon the blank screen.
“You needed me…I’ve let you down before.”
“Well, every couple has their problems,” Rita shrugged, causing her height to shoot up a foot.
“No,” Mento interrupted, turning his gaze toward Rita. “You’ve always been there, when I… Steve Dayton…Mento needed you. I was never good at returning the favor. I let you down…as a teammate and…as a husband.”
“No, don’t…!” Rita said, laying a hand on his arm. “We…”
“No,” Mento said, with an emphatic shake of his head. “I wanted to be there for you…prove myself, but I’m not… Steve Dayton is not a good man. Mento might be, but, lately, I can’t tell which is true? Which is real? Which one is…me?“
He tapped at his helmet.
“This makes me better, smarter, a hero and a better man, but I sometimes think it’s all a lie.”
Rita put her arm through his and gave a squeeze. Adjusting her size, she then laid her head on Mento’s shoulder.
“Maybe,” She said, softly. “But I don’t know if that even matters. Who are we? Are you Mento or are you Steve Dayton? Am I Rita Farr or am I just a blob that was told its Rita Farr? What are we missing out on, how much time have we wasted, because we can’t stop thinking… asking… so obsessed with trying to figure it out?”
She reached up and gently touched his helmet.
“I don’t know who is in there.” She said.
She then tapped her own temple.
“I’m not a hundred percent sure who is in here either. Maybe, we need to stop thinking so much,” She suggested.
“I…don’t know…don’t know if I can,” He muttered in reply, his mouth twitching in an unsteady attempt at a smile.
“Me neither. Maybe we should just watch the movie. What’s playing?”
“The Sea Devils.”
“I’m in that one!” Rita smiled.
“I know.”
Coagula and Bast:
Kate Godwin, part time super hero, and full-time owner and operator of the Caffeine Deim coffee emporium, lived in an apartment above the shop.
Unlike the quiet oasis of calm and order that the coffee shop was for the citizens of Danny the street, Kate’s apartment was a one-bedroom realm of chaos: books stacked haphazardly, coffee cups left wherever there was a flat surface. The bed room looked like a thrift shop had exploded.
The bed was a tangled nest of sheets, pillows and clothes.
After several moments, the pile of sheets moved, a hand reached out, fumbled around, searching through the clutter on the bedside table. It grabbed the plastic alarm clock and pulled it closer.
There was a low, faint groan and Kate sat up, pushing the tangled sheets aside, yawning and stretching.
She squinted around scratching her head, realized her hair was a tangled mess and she was naked, except for a necklace and a single sock.
She gave a slight shiver. Worried Danny the street had materialized at the North Pole again, Kate pulled up one of the blankets and drew it over her shoulders.
This revealed the naked, except for a few bits of jewelry, alien cat woman curled up on the other side of the bed.
As memory came flooding back, Kate went briefly wide-eyed and then smiled. She reached down to absently stroke Bast’s furry back. This caused Bast’s tail it whip back and forth.
“What…?” The cat woman murmured, with sleepy, mock aggravation. “Again…? Don’t you get enough?”
“Me?” Kate mused coyly, lowering her blanket. “I didn’t put these scratches on my shoulder.”
“Oh,” Bast said, sitting up, and gently touching the claw marks running down Kate’s shoulder. “I am sorry…!”
“Don’t be,” Kate smiled, pulling the blanket back up. “You haven’t had sex in a thousand years…I kind of suspected what I might be letting myself in for.”
She leaned back, resting against her furry bedmate, savoring the softness and warmth.
“I have…concerns about this,” Bast said, quietly, leaning her chin on Kate’s shoulder. “Are you laughing?”
“Yeah, a little,” Kate said. “Bast, I’m a transgender metahuman lesbian. I have heard the regretful, next morning speech so many times, I have it memorized. Just never thought it was a thing on other planets too.”
“What…?” Bast said, sitting up and frowning. “It’s not about…sex. That was quite nice…and my people are evolved enough to be honest about following our impulses. My concern, is not you and I being intimate, but rather the emotional aspect. I value the Doom Patrol for taking me in, and the connection you and I have forged, but I cannot stay on Earth indefinitely. At some point, I will have to return home…I have family and responsibilities…even if I don’t choose to leave, at some point, they will seek me out. I am also less concerned in the difference in our species, but in our life spans.”
“Oh, that’s right, on top of everything else, you’re a goddess,” Kate said. “I had to sleep with a career woman.”
“I don’t think you are taking this seriously,” Bast frowned.
“What? That you think a long-term relationship might not work because someday a spaceship is going to appear in the sky and beam you away?” Kate asked, turning around to face Bast. “Hon, my life has been crazy since I was thirteen. The fact that you want to stick around is never going to be a problem.”
She leaned in and kissed Bast, then rested her forehead against the alien woman’s furry brow.
“Let’s get through today,” Kate smiled. “We’ll worry about tomorrow…or forever, after I’ve had some coffee.”
“Fair enough.”
“Good,” Kate said, nodding. “Now, put some clothes on, you hussy. I run a respectable coffee shop.”
Robotman and Niles Caulder:
Robert Crane stood in front of the slumped form of Cliff Steele. He leaned in, until his iron face was mere inches away from the other’s orange, alloy features.
“Bit like finding a long-lost brother, I would imagine.”
Robert stood up and turned, his fists clenched.
“Relax. I didn’t mean to startle you.” The older, bearded man said. “I apologize.”
He wore work clothes and was holding two mugs of steaming hot coffee.
“I’m Niles.” He said, coming into the room. He held out one of the mugs.
“I appreciate the thought,” Crane said. “But I can’t drink that.”
He relaxed his hands and gestured at the coffee cup.
“I was going to offer,” The older man said, walking past the metal man. “But this one isn’t for you.”
He placed the cup on the small dresser, next to the couch on which the inert metal man was slumped.
“Larry says it might get his attention. That’s also why the jazz is playing as well.”
“He can smell the coffee?” Crane asked.
“Yes, so I’m told,” Niles nodded, taking a sip of coffee. “They keep thinking I can fix him, but he’s…a bit of a miracle.”
He shrugged, turned and walked to the door, gesturing for the metal man to follow him. The front of the building was a mix of appliance store and work shop.
Niles went and sat at the workbench, setting down his cup.
“They think I can fix him,” He said, ruefully. “Look, at what I fix here…”
He gestured at a blender, a mini-refrigerator and an old model television.
“Not sure how that makes me an expert on robots,” He continued. “You, I probably could, your metal work and older systems, but Cliff…”
He shrugged again.
“I’m…confused,” Robert Crane muttered. “I mean, I’ve been nothing but confused, since I woke up, but…aren’t you, the Chief? The others keep mentioning you?”
“Yes, well,” Niles chuckled. “That’s tricky. You see, something…happened, I’m a bit vague on that part, but it affected space and time. Danny,…you know about Danny?”
“Sort of. It doesn’t make much sense.”
“You’ll get used to that. Anyway, Danny needed help, so he gathered together the Doom Patrol. The problem was, with reality all jumbled and battered, he didn’t always get the ones he was aiming for. I am ‘A’ Niles Caulder, but not ‘THE’ Niles Caulder…not Professor Caulder, or the Chief, just Niles, the fellow that fixes toasters.”
“So, you’re not…you have no connection to the Doom Patrol?” Crane asked.
“Well, I did meet a version of Cliff Steele, once,” Niles shrugged. “He was nothing like our friend on the couch, but otherwise, no.”
Robot man shook his head.
“I don’t wish to sound negative,” Niles said, gently. “Or make it sound like I’ve been abducted, torn away from my happy life. I was…not in a good place, when Danny found me. I may not understand a great deal of this, but they gave me shelter, an opportunity to reassess my life, and maybe find a bit of peace and purpose. I try to help, where I can, in return, but they seem incapable of admitting I’m not the Chief. Maybe, they’re just being kind…?”
Robot man shook his head again, glanced about and then gingerly attempted to perch on a tall, wooden stool. It creaked worrisomely under his weight, but held.
His metal face was incapable of showing emotion or any change in expression, but Crane’s posture made it obvious he was feeling overwhelmed by his new situation. Each new answer seemed to suggest several more questions.
“We might be able to help each other,” Niles suggested. “I could use some help from someone who understands science, especially robotics, more than I do and it seems like you could use a ‘tour guide’.”
Crane nodded thoughtfully.
Once they’d returned to Danny the street, the various members of the Doom Patrol had scattered, each to deal with matters: personal, health related or just dealing with the general craziness of their recent jaunt around the world and beyond.
This had left the orphaned Robot man feeling abandoned and lost.
Rita had found him a room, but having apparently been asleep for fifty years, and having no need to eat or take a shower, he’d grown restless and bored after ten minutes.
He’d spent an hour wandering Danny the street.
He chatted with several people who mistook him for Cliff Steele, helped get a balloon out of a tree for a child, listened to the music coming from the record shop, replenished his nutrient tank from the water fountain in the park and then had spotted the fix it shop and recognized the name.
“I appreciate the offer,” He said, extending his metal hand. “Maybe we can help each other.”
Larry Trainor and Negative man:
Upon returning to Danny the street, Larry had felt like a wet dishrag given human form.
He managed to stagger back to his apartment and collapse on his unmade bed. He hated dumping the job of finding Rita and the others to Flex, Mallah and the rest, but the drain of using Negative man so much, not to mention the constant low-level stress of trying to keep up the pretense that he knew what he was doing as the leader of the Doom Patrol, had taken all his energy: physical, mental and emotional.
He lay sprawled on his bed; unsure how much time had passed since he’d fallen asleep.
He still ached, but the ‘to the bone’ weariness had faded a bit. He felt like his coping skills had been replenished slightly.
There was another feeling, a worrying one. The weakness and that strange hollow he felt in his chest, whenever Negative man had been sent free.
Squinting in the afternoon light, Larry struggled to sit up. His limbs felt like over boiled spaghetti and he collapsed back on the bed.
He blinked, choosing to look around, since moving wasn’t an option.
The Negative man was hovering above him. A solid black form, crackling with other-worldly energy, sitting, Indian-style, in mid-air.
The ebony figure was featureless, but Larry still felt he was being looked at, intently studied.
‘What…?” Larry mumbled, weakly. “What are you doing? What do you want?”
The Negative man, looking like a shadow grown solid, floated above Larry, giving the impression that any moment, it was going to speak.
“Why…?” Larry muttered, shaking his head slowly, channeling the little reserve of energy he into his voice. ‘We’ve been stuck…together for so long…what do you want…?”
He could feel his body weakening. It felt so strange, having the Negative man separated from him by mere inches and still feel the slow death.
And there was no villain’s trap separating them, merely, somehow the black silhouette creature choosing to leave, and then choosing not to return.
“Why…?” Larry asked again, his voice weak and raspy.
What had changed? What had awoken some spark of rebellious personality in the energy creature or had it always been there? Had the Negative man done this before and this was the first time Larry had noticed?
Had the Negative man felt trapped in their symbiotic relationship? Had he seen Larry as some kind of fleshy prison?
Was this an escape attempt?
Were they two prisoners, who both resented the other, thinking they were the jailer?
Larry lay there, unsure what to do. Too weak to move, yet, no idea if the Negative man’s actions served a purpose, or was it just going to let him die, while it watched?
Despite its lack of features, he could feel the energy being’s gaze, searching and emphatic. Yet, the motivation for its actions completely eluded him
It hesitantly reached out, stopping with its fingertips a hairs breadth from Larry’s bandaged face.
At first, Larry flinched, thinking it was going to strike him, but its movements were halting and gentle, as though it wished to stroke his face, but didn’t have the courage to.
It suddenly pulled back, and Larry could swear he heard a sound, almost a sigh.
The crackling energy nimbus around the Negative man flared and it opened its arms wide and sank into Larry’s body, like it was falling into a pool.
Larry sat up, gasping, as a surge of energy hit him.
He ran his hands over his chest.
“What the hell just happened…?”
Cliff Steele and Crazy Jane:
He lay back, feeling the sun on his face and on his eyelids. Lazy and contented, after a picnic lunch and a nap under the idyllic, blue, summer sky.
A faint, slightly perfumed breeze ruffled his hair.
“Cliff?”
“Hmmm…?” He replied, not opening his eyes.
“Today has been nice.”
Cliff smiled, opened his eyes and gazed up at Jane. He’d been sleeping with his head in her lap. With one hand she absently stroked his hair, the other had a finger stuck in her a book, to hold her place.
“Yeah, it has been.”
Cliff lazily reached out and ran his fingers through the grass.
“But, we can’t stay here forever,” Jane continued, pensively. “Things are happening. You know they are going to need us.”
“Yeah, I know,” Cliff sighed, gruffly. “The Doom Patrol would be lost without me.”
“They’re your friends…our friends.” Jane chided him, gently.
“Just feels like the more I save the Patrol, the more they need saving,” Cliff grumbled, sitting up. “Guess I might as well, otherwise, they’ll just mess it up.”
Jane frowned, hunting around for her bookmark.
“Hey,” Cliff said gently, reaching out and touching her cheek.
“What?”
“I love you, Jane.”
“I love you too, my sheltering Cliff.” She said, smiling.
“We will go and help the Patrol,” Cliff said. “You know that. They’re more than my friends. They’re family.”
“I know.”
“But, not today.” He continued.
She leaned in, and kissed the tip of his nose.
“Okay, not today.”
‘And I get the last piece of pie.”
Epilogue:
Papercut and Mallah:
The two super villain residents of Danny the street, trudged up the dirt road, onto Danny’s pavement and sank onto the nearest bench.
“Man, that sucked!” Papercut muttered. “I can’t believe none of the others showed up! Where the heck is everybody?”
“Idiots,” The gorilla grunted, idly reloading his guns. “Probably all preoccupied with their various personal dramas.”
“Everyone got back, I think,” Papercut said, looking around. He rubbed his arm. “Gonna be sore in the morning…!”*
(*Relax, you haven’t missed anything. We’ll find out what happened in a couple of issues- Trav)
“Well, we’ve saved the innocent and vanquished evil,” Mallah said, absently, as he continued the maintenance of his weapons. “I think that calls for a cup of coffee. Coming?”
“Naw,” Papercut said, shaking his head. “Think I’m gonna go check on Flex…see where everyone ended up. We might have missed something bad…?”
Next Issue: What was Flex Mentallo up to?
Author’s note:
Sorry, no punching this issue.
After the craziness of the last couple issues, and the brief hiatus caused by the craziness of real life, I thought we needed a breather: let everyone know what the status quo was for our cast, as well as sprinkle some bread crumbs for stories to come.
This is the first story of a “calm before the storm” trilogy: a series of done in ones, just for fun stories, before moving on to some of the bigger arcs.
Next is a spotlight on Flex Mentallo, and after that, we find out what happened to Papercut and Mallah.
Then Mallah’s quest for the missing Brain, as well as bunch of stuff involving Robot man and the Chief.
And there will be more aliens!