Make Sure That You Do It Right, a crash bandicoot fanfic

The site kept deleted the names, so I've fixed it. I apologise for the inconvenience.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

One mole of glucose.

The beaker tipped with shaky, unsteady precision for a moment before going steady. Two moles of ethanol. Slightly wrinkled hands, skin stained by residue and years of work, plucked a small dropper from the tabletop. A notable but soft clap of thunder rumbled in the distance. There was no rain just yet.

The liquid bubbled in the vials adjacent to him. Below several already used flasks was a scribbled note detailing the formula; C6H12O6 → 2 C2H5OH + 2

Two moles of carbon dioxide...

Calculate the ATP.

The lab was quiet. The only light available was the chemical glow emitted from the equipment around the scientist; twisting tubes and bulbous containers. Vivid green and rancid pink.

Nitrus Brio took a moment to straighten up and stretch out the stiffness in his back.

The idea that silence takes up most of the empty space inside a castle is devoid of truth. Or perhaps, it just seemed that way. Stone walls and bar windows made for an eerily sharp autistic. Between hallways of rock and barely-furnished areas a humming, ambient noise seemed to hover. Like air trapped in a container.

It was a good thing that most of its occupants were already mad.

His nose wrinkled and Brio reached into his lab coat pocket to fish out a familiar green vial. Just as he took a second sip and the familiar peppermint taste burned his tongue, he saw something move out of the corner of his eye.

He paused, arm still lifted in the air mid-drink. "..."

The scientist lowered the flask and peered about the room. Very square, very bare aside from his equipment in front of the window. There wasn't really anywhere someone could...

He happened to glance down at his feet, and saw a shadow move across to overlap his own. Directly behind him.

He felt his grip on the vial slip and he opened his mouth. It was then he sensed the presence directly at his back and looming over. He wouldn't lie to himself in a moment like this – he was a meek man and no amount of recently regained confidence would change that. Dignity be damned if something was about to butcher him he wouldn't go quietly –

A loud yelp tore from his throat, but barely a split second before it began a large hand clamped over his jaw and yanked him back. He felt the hand still clutching his mutagen vial fall to the same fate as well. His free hand went to the fingers at his mouth, clawing in a futile attempt to free himself. Whoever it was, they were strong, and a well known panic began to swell up inside him.

His muffled jabbers were cut short when he was jerked even further back and –

"Calm yourself." A voice hissed.

Brio went completely still. Slowly – very slowly – his eyes slid skyward. There, bent over him with an unimpressed sneer, was...

The scientist's eyes widened.

His annunciation of the perpetrator's name was completed muffled. Tropy released him, then, taking a step back. He was never one for physical contact let alone a close proximity. But never mind that. Brio had been thrown through quite the loop and he couldn't mask his alarm.

"...T...Tropy?" He said, his voice husky with just the faintest stutter. He didn't normally relapse like that but he could not help it for the life of him. He massaged his jaw absently, staring at him. He was at a loss. "What...what are you doing here?"

Tropy leant back with his hands folded over his staff. There was an impressive sheen to his metal armour, an upgrade to the quality. He'd grown older, they both had. He seemed quite collected.

Brio had not seen him in years. He'd lost count.

"Why else? I came because we have things to discuss, Brio." The blue man drawled, as if it were perfectly obvious. The smaller man scowled, curling his fists indignantly.

"You have a lot of nerve, Nefarious, scaring me like that."

The blue man rolled his eyes. "You overreact, per usual. If I'd come here with violent intentions I would've followed through already. It would have been easy."

The other scientist did not appreciate such casual insinuations. Brio adjusted the collar of his lab coat and looked away. He frowned a little then.

"Why come to me? Why not take up your business with Cortex?"

Tropy gave an uncharacteristically curt bark of laughter. "Spare me. That fool has no inkling of competence left."

"And you believe I do? I'm flattered." Brio tried to mask his sincerity with sarcasm. He, too, straightened up and placed a hand over his heard. He allowed a shallow, lanky sort of smirk. "If you are hear by your own merit and not Uka Uka's, then you must already have something in mind?"

"Hmm." Nefarious strode across the lab and Brio found himself inching away despite his own bravado. The man, almost twice his height, came to stand at the window. He gaze down at the soft but stirring waves against the castle foundation and huffed.

"I have been working on another Project, Brio. But the biological aspect – that is, the effect is has on organic lifeforms – would be best suited to your department, would it not?" He eyed the smaller man pointedly. Brio made sure to keep his face unchanged. Though his interest was piqued until –

His brows lifted even higher up his head. His voice was nearly soft with surprise. "You've – built another time machine?"

Tropy did not answer right away. Instead he smirked rather openly and Brio found himself turning away to clutch at his vial. His nerves had spiked and he sipped quickly at the formula. "That is...w-well, quite impressive." So why the sense of...foreboding?

With a soft 'clunk' Tropy leant his staff against the table. It looked very out of place. Brio kept an eye on the taller scientist as he surveyed the lab with only mild interest. "An entirely different foundation. And a new nature of travel."

Brio frowned. "...New nature? How can there be different ways to transverse through time?" Not that he knew much about it.

Tropy quirked a brow at him. "Before Cortex and I used it for gathering objects. Nothing that had any overall effect on their timelines. It was a very...'arms length' venture, so to speak."

"Hmph. Learned from all those paradoxes did you...?" Brio muttered more to himself, taking a sip.

But wait. "You said 'overall effect' ...does this mean this new contraption is -?"

"Built to do just that?" Tropy's smirk had returned. "Indeed."

Brio stared at him stiffly for a good few moments. "Did you not hear me about the paradoxes?"

"You fool." Tropy's unexpectedly harsh tone never failed to make the other man flinched, no matter how much he loathed doing so. Brio glared at him. "You think you know more than I about the time continuum? You think I spent these past few years sipping liquid and shivering in a corner as you have?"

"That is uncalled for, Tropy." Brio placed a hand on his hip and allowed his anger to quell his nerves. "You mean to tell me that –"

"I have found a way of changing the past without causing such unwanted effects?" The blue man gave a sneer, "Yes. I have."

He paused then as if knowing Brio needed a second for that to sink in. Change the past. How could...how would...

Brio's hand gave an involuntary spasm and he quickly sipped at his vial again. Change the events of the past. Why kind of complications could there be? Would they be aware of the difference or would all of it be erased...?

No, otherwise there would be absolutely no point. Tropy wasn't stupid by any means. In fact he was rather terrifyingly competent, if it hadn't been for Cortex...

"I see." He didn't like this idea at all.

And Tropy was watching him, gaze piercing – clearly he'd figured out his feelings. His frown deepened. "Consider this, old friend. Gin is useless now. We may remedy the deterioration that rocket implanted in his mind. We shall make sure Cortex does not fall prey to his faults. This time, we will know every step we should not take and eradicate any error."

"That infernal mask that follows the bandicoot around won't stay oblivious to it for long." Brio returned, beginning a slow but steady pace. But still...a new start.

That was so many years ago. And though the mutagen had been tough on his body, stealing his voice for a few years, it had cured his stuttering and weak will. Would he return to that same meek state he'd been before?

His hand traced the skin over his throat. Brio scowled. No. The mind is built on memory as well as physicality. It wasn't just the stutter that had changed...

Tropy would change for the better, would he not?

"Your exposure to the cold of time would be lessened...but if there is to be a 'physical rewind...'"

Tropy saw his chance to begin gloating and took it, placing his hands behind his back. The time machine built around his very body, probably hooked up to the larger machine, had ceased all its peddling and movement for now. "Before, I built a machine that punctures a hole in time to allow one to step from one place to the other. This machine will not be poking holes. It'll be moving time itself, ourselves. So yes. We'll regain a good few lost years."

"I suppose bumping into our past selves wouldn't be very fruitful." Brio said – with a bit of a chuckle. For a moment he saw Tropy smirk, however it was brief.

"I have not changed as much as you."

"Perhaps that would make it far easier for a disagreement to break out."

"I shudder at the result."

"So you need me to aid with the -?"

The door blasted open. Brio threw himself back against the table, jars and glass casing jiggling precariously in their shelves as he gripped the wood. Tropy had stood up in a fell swoop and snatched his staff from its idly place by the counter – before it could fall. Outside, a terribly appropriate streak of lightning dance by the barred window, illuminating the room.

Gin was poised in the doorway, arms out, legs spread. His left eye gave a notable twitch.

"Dear Lord." Tropy retained his stiff near-attacking posture, his nose wrinkling at the sight. "Your slip into decay is worse than I'd imagined."

It was, really. The once vibrant colour of the mechanic's hair was charcoal-dark now, tainted with an unnatural purple. His skin chalk white and naked of any freckles. Any sign of intelligence had been replaced with mad quirking.

Gin's eyes slid between them both. "What are you doing, chattering away in secret?" His mechanical voice was grating as ever, and recently, laboured with husky breaths. Tropy's lips and brows twisted in disdain as well as indifference.

"Simply discussing theories."

"And what are you doing back?" Gin watched the blue man stride across the room, his half-mechanical form never budging aside from his too-small pupils. "The master made a point of wishing that you never return to the castle."

Tropy was completely unimpressed. "Did he?"

Brio cleared his throat but failed to catch their attention.

Gin shut the door via back-kick. The noise strummed through the entire castle. (Down in the lower revels the tall goggle-wearing assistants looked up in surprise.)

"Why did you come?" The diminutive cyborg rasped. Tropy made a show of scowling at him, as if he'd been addressed by an insolent child.

"I have a plan in mind. One that Cortex will not be at the forefront of, at least – not yet." He said. He glanced at Brio, who was dusting himself off and scowling, perturbed by the sudden start. "I came here for Brio. That is all."

Gin eyes narrowed in erratic suspicion, "You mean to make off with one of our evil colleagues?!"

Brio cut in, affronted. "I am not a hired goon to be passed around! I make my own decisions about who I work with and as of late –"

"It wouldn't be hard, since Cortex's pay checks are about as valuable as rice paper." Tropy countered without a beat. Brio saw a figurative fire flare in Gin's eye and he cringed.

Gin's voice rose to a dangerous level, "You keep chattering like that, you –"

"Let's hear the half-cooked insult."

"I will –"

"Shhh!" Brio had slid between them, his hand up and curled into a fist. Both of them went silent by impulse. The middle man glared between them both, listening for any indication that Cortex or his minions had heard.

He and Cortex had come to an 'agreement' in recent years, yes, but Brio liked having the upper hand in knowledge. One has to keep his options open. Slowly, he lowered his hand and plucked his vial back off the table.

"Insults aside, I think we could all benefit from a mutual understanding." He began, striding towards the barely-used blackboard at the side of the rather sparse chamber. As he'd guessed, Tropy's lean brow flew up.

"I consider you competent, in most aspects, Brio, that is why I approached you and not this wretch."

Gin's scowl twisted. "You would go against Dr Cortex after we oh-so welcomed your sorry self back into our midst?"

"This is not a betrayal, Gin." Brio said, a bit more heated than he'd intended. Frowning he snatched some chalk up from the table-top and ran a finger over the blunt end. He scowled when this gesture he'd used to appear indifferent resulted in his gloves being caked in it, and quickly waved it away. "Cortex will have to be involved, whether any of us like it or not."

He looked over his shoulder and saw that Tropy's eyes had narrowed. Brio shrugged offhandedly. "I am right, of course?"

"Obviously."

Gin eyed them both with open dislike and suspicion. Brio returned it, and for a moment there was simply silence.

"Oh my, and here I was thinking you three hadn't invited me to the party."

The way in which the faux bubbly voice had descended into a growling drawl made Brio wince by pure muscle memory. Cortex's yellow-hued head had appeared in the doorway, as did the rest of him when he stepped in, tugging sharply on the sleeve of his glove to tighten the fabric around his fingers. The 'snap' that rang through the lab was awfully loud.

Cortex must have already known Tropy was there, but this didn't stop him from scowling vehemently upon making eye contact. "Well look who it is."

Tropy lifted his chin. "Cortex."

"Tropy." Cortex uttered as if it left a bad taste on his mouth. "Come to try and highjack my missions again? You know what happened to the last person who tried that."

His malicious grin was A-class and those who weren't aware of Cortex's hilariously bad faults would've run full tilt in the opposite direction. His tone was incredibly slimy but all it did was make Tropy roll his eyes.

"Oh, please, don't start with that." He said.

"Moving on." Brio cut in – again. It was hard to keep attention going these days and it irked him. "Now that we're all on the same page..."

"What makes you think I want your help?" Cortex interrupted without so much as glancing his way, glaring up at the tall man so that his neck craned.

Tropy's lip curled. "Oh, 'Doctor'. I'm not offering help, I'm commissioning yours."

All three of the shorter men needed to replay that line several times in their brains before it sank in. Brio and Gin glanced at each other as Cortex simply gaped. He couldn't have meant it in that way...

Before Cortex could snag the opportunity to truly rub the fact Tropy had come asking for 'help' in a sense, the blue man went on, "Originally I came for Brio alone, but it seems I'll have to make do with all of you sooner than I'd hoped. To cut a long story short...I have found a way to give you all a second try. A redo, if you will." He leaned back and allowed them to digest this. Cortex's hand rose to stroke as his goatee.

"...New time machine? Busy bee, aren't you?" He was trying to hide his interest, wasn't he? Brio knew him too well.

Gin's mechanic eye whirled before coming back in scrutinising focus. "What could we possibly collect -?"

"There will be no collecting." Tropy cut in. "This machine moves time itself. We shall return to where our paths started to slip downward and we will remedy it. If you have the nerve..."

"...All our knowledge of the future and all the opportunity of the past." A slow grin had stretched over Cortex's face to his reddened eyes. "You say it like I wouldn't agree."

Tropy glanced at Brio.

He knew that look was meant to mean something. Perhaps that the agreement was mostly between them. That Cortex and Gin were add-ons. All he did was return the stare.

"Very well then. Prepare yourselves for some-" Tropy lifted his staff with a collected air. Several brows raised in response. "...opportunistic nostalgia."

Without warning, Tropy slammed his tuning fork onto the floor, sending a ripple of energy through the room – and teleporting them all from sight. The collective yelp ended shortly.

Outside, the lightning outlined the bottles and potions standing alone in the now vacant liquid bubbled in the vials adjacent to him. Below several already used flasks was a scribbled note detailing the formula; C6H12O6 → 2 C2H5OH + 2