I started this piece with the intentions of bringing in another K, or at least K+, fanfic to my repertoire. But I failed, all because of one line I had to include about a certain general's sleeping habits. I apologize for veering far off into 'adult' territory in my past few fics, and I fully intend to have my next fiction be a kid fic, as this is a kid's show we're talking about. Anyways, I hope you enjoy - this is certainly a different one, one that I approached to explain just how Dr. Gero could be the creator of Android Eight when it is stated so plainly that Dr. Flappe is.
I realize that you may be wondering just why I chose to put this under DBZ instead of DB, when this clearly takes place before or even during the other's arc, though I decided that since Dr. Gero is a DBZ-exclusive character and Dr. Flappe, after all, is only filler, I may as well place it in his category.
The scientist's throat was parched with the stagnant cold that lingered in the laboratory. Each gulp for fresh air ended in a series of raucous coughs, forcing him to press his thin lips into the elbow of his yellow coat in an attempt to subdue the spasms. Any sudden sound, he knew, could be the end of his life. And even with ever-waiting officer holding a gun threateningly behind him, he didn't want his life to end just yet.
Dr. Flappe felt the barrel of the revolver dig slightly into the small of his bony back each time he jerked violently, but the gloved finger resting on the trigger comfortably stayed as almost only a joke of sorts. The soldier behind him had no intentions of actually shooting the scientist, lest one fewer brilliant brain remain intact with this whole crazed operation, and so the weapon only being used to prod him into working harder. It seemed to work because, each time the man felt that freezing metal touch him, the cold penetrating his leathery skin even through his clothing, he felt the cough leave his lungs. He couldn't cough, even though this weather brought these fits of hacking upon him. If he coughed, he might be shot. If he coughed, the bomb might go off.
His small, black eyes lilted downwards and swept across the length of the creation laying before him. Android Eight. It was magnificent with its human-like traits, even with life not having yet been breathed into it. Its eyes were shut peacefully, and its mouth lay in an almost contented frown. Had Flappe not just readjusted its lips a few hours before, he would have sworn that the android was smiling mockingly up at him.
But as of now, the chest of the android was open so as to allow the scientist to finish a few smaller details with its interior. There were certain tweaks to be made and tests to be run, his crafty hands carefully maneuvering around the small bomb planted within, but this android was almost finished. Then he would be able to free of this lunacy, this whole Red Ribbon Army. He shivered slightly at this prospect, having awaited this day for months, as the barrel dug itself further into the little flesh of his back.
It had been only half a year prior that he had been sitting in his own, small laboratory, though just as cold. But then those troops, the Red Ribbon Army, had kidnapped him and brought him to this lair of Dr. Gero. And Dr. Gero, threatening as he might have been, was no threat intellectually. He was a genius, certainly, but his mind had already decayed too quickly with his past inventions that he had decided to 'recruit' another scientist to help him. And that was precisely why Flappe had been smuggled underneath the ominous Muscle Tower, forced to work in conditions close to freezing in order to ensure survival.
He reached to his left as he kept his eyes on the monstrous figure laying before him, allowing his thin, bare fingers to grope around blindly for a wrench. Then he felt the cold tool touch his calloused finger tips and, with only a brief shudder, he grabbed the tool and delved once again into the android's chest. He had to work cautiously so as to not set off the bomb he had planted inside only a few days prior, and so his work was long and tedious. Another cough tickled his throat, but he was forced to let it pass. To cough so violently as he wanted to while working on the android's interior would most certainly mean death.
With the wrench in had, he tightened various screws to be certain that they wouldn't jolt out of place in combat. He typically wouldn't care and, being on the 'opposing' side to this horrible Red Ribbon Army, he might have even wanted to loosen a few screws just to hope that the whole android would topple. But there was the matter of the mysterious Dr. Gero, who he was sure would inspect his handiwork carefully. Flappe clenched his jagged, white teeth at such a thought, his mess of grey hair frizzing as that horrible face entered his mind.
Gero was perhaps in his mid-thirties, though his face was creased with stress and anxiety. His mouth had been molded with a bitter hatred that kept that upper lip curled at almost all times, and those dark, scrutinizing eyes of him were lowered with a proud evil. He had features that may have been handsome when he had been a teenager, as he possessed effeminate cheek bones but a strong jaw, and he had a small nose much like Flappe's. But a smoldering anger and resentment had transformed the man into the insane man he was today. And the smaller, older scientist felt his stomach lurch as the image of their first encounter entered his mind.
Dr. Flappe had been living as a captive of the Red Ribbon Army for six days, stuck in a cell a little ways below the frozen terrain. He was only given a single ration of food each day, and his water supply was limited due to it all freezing before it could be brought down to him. He spent those miserable days huddled into a ball in the stony corner, the sheer blanket provided to him doing nothing to protect him from the outside forces. He had attempted to evoke some conversation from the guards that delivered his daily meal, but after a few words with no response, he instead delved into the soup or bread delivered and distracted himself from his present condition.
Needless to say, Flappe was ecstatic the moment a guard descended those stony steps to announce, "You're coming with me. Dr. Gero has come in today to meet you." He didn't even register that name, so defeated as he was at that moment. But had he taken a moment to at least think of exactly what this meant, he would have recognized that name. Dr. Gero was a sadistic genius outcast by the scientific community for his barbaric experiments and perverse ideologies. And Flappe, for the first time, was going to be granted the honor of meeting this terrifying being.
The ascent was brief and silent. Neither prisoner nor guard dared utter a word as they trudged up the stone steps, both weary after being without sunlight for such a length of time. But once they reached the top, the guard finally demanded his hand and, with a key resting rather loosely in his clumsy fingers, he undid the heavy shackles around the scientist's wrists. There was no fear of Flappe escaping, though, because after six days of an old man not receiving adequate food or sleep, having spent many restless nights pondering over just why he had been captured, he was too weak to even consider such a thought. There was no strength left in his weary limbs, and climbing those stairs had worn him enough.
He was ushered through a heavy, metal door, staggering out into the sunlight for the first time in nearly a week. He was so blinded that he raised one of those weakened arms over his eyes as they stung, small tears welling in the ducts hidden underneath those grey eyelids. He couldn't believe it. Never had the sun, even through the bars over the tiny, rectangular window, looked so beautiful. He couldn't help but cry.
Then he felt a hand at the back of his scruffy neck, and after having found such warmth with the sunlight, he was pulled away. He was pulled from his one hope that shattered his heart and broke all barriers by the guard. A slight whimper gave way from his dry throat as he tread over his own two feet in an inept fashion, jerked away more quickly than he could place his shoes back firmly on the ground. And as quickly as he was taken from the sun, he found himself shoved into another room barred by a steel door.
He had no time to think before the guard shoved him further, and the first thought he managed to register was just how stuffy this room was! A thick perfume filled his narrow nostrils as his squinted eyes widened. He felt an uncomfortable warmth roll over his body, and the air was extremely thick, a drastic transition from the thin, oxygen-depleted air in the basement. He curled his fingers and wiped those beginnings of tears, blinking several times as he adjusted himself to the many colors adorning this particular room.
The wallpaper was floral, a soft coral pink that eased his vision as his eyes caught sight of a large, empty space on the wall. There were frames of cedar to add warmth around pictures of various mountainous landscapes, the deep green of their rolling hills seizing the poor scientist's stricken heart. Then there were bookcases upon bookcases that lined the walls, made of the same wood but lined with novels and magazines and diaries. The plush carpet gave way to Flappe's weight and, for a moment, he imagined himself to be floating away.
It was a fairly small room, just large enough for a small space to stand before coming to a sitting area with an ornate, mahogany table that had been dragged towards the center of it rather recently, as could be told by the streaks in the beige carpet. The whole room had been set up to become a conference room of sorts, where a men speak one-on-one with one another. It took Flappe a moment to realize that there was a twin-sized metal-spring bed pushed off to the side, and it made him wonder exactly who could live here.
He was guided with the guard's hand firmly resting on his bony shoulder, forced to sit into a stiff arm chair with a pale pink cushion underneath. A vase full of dead roses was resting towards the edge of the table, and he held bated breath as a brown petal gently drifted down to join its brethren on the glassy table top. But at once, a few of the dead petals jolted off of the table as a door towards the back of the room swung open.
Flappe exhaled weakly with surprise as he saw a man in the doorway. Those electric blue orbs swiveled deliberately in those hollowed sockets, wrinkles giving way in the flabby skin beneath. This man was younger than Flappe, yet the infinite knowledge lurking behind the glazed, glaring surface of those eyes was enough to shake him. He was clean-shaven and yet had prominent eyebrows that were greying with early age. Light, wavy brown hair framed those high cheekbones and rested on his shoulders, sitting just at the collar of his laboratory coat. The white coat clung loosely to his torso that, though was by no means muscular, still ominous with the inflated ego laying deep within his cruel heart. And this pride he carried himself with only further made something of a man that was physically weak compared to the guards protecting him. His straight posture helped to broaden his back, and to the scientist slouched over in the uncomfortable arm chair, he seemed so very large and powerful.
This wasn't a mindless brute like the guard standing behind him, Flappe was quick to perceive as he dared look into those cunning eyes once more. He was hardened with distrust and thrust forth by passion disguised as hatred. He was Dr. Gero.
The younger scientist swiftly glided across the carpeted floor, each step taken with precision as he made his way from the corner the door was located. He made no sound as he moved his eyes past Dr. Flappe and towards the waiting guard, and then back to the older man with his taut cheeks and curled mess of white hair. Then, very quickly so as to catch him off-guard, Gero stated, "There will be no formalities made between the two of us. Your objective during your time here will be clear once I tell you, and I will expect nothing less than pure diligence out of you."
Dr. Flappe was far too tired and hungry to respond, so taken aback as he was. He couldn't meet the piercing gaze any longer and allowed his dark, beady eyes to rest upon a patch emblazoned on the mysterious scientist's right breast, which was a red ribbon with two stitched R's. But Gero pressed on, "Your mission is to build an android prototype within the next half a year which will be used to kill and destroy. It is to have qualities too fearsome for that of a human, yet be human-like enough to deceive its predators. I will take it as my own."
This blunt honesty cut through Flappe, who could only think of exactly how thirsty he was at the moment. The humid room brought perspiration down his neck as he pondered over this. It was ridiculous, though Flappe was too distracted by his own bodily needs to think that. No, he simply recited the words in his mind, playing them over and over again as a silence persisted. To build an android prototype was nearly impossible - few had done it, and the closest Flappe himself had gotten to such a thing had been creating small robots to help with house labor. And in half a year? That wasn't nearly impossible. That was flat-out impossible. Then there was its purpose to kill and destroy, which Flappe wasn't certain of how to program a robot to do.
But Flappe couldn't even play out these more technical obstacles in his head, instead moving on to the next sentence. Qualities too fearsome for that of a human, yet human-like enough to deceive its predators. That, he would later realize, would be the summation of Dr. Gero in his fullest. But as Flappe met those eccentric blue eyes once more, the last sentence hit him in its totality. He would take it as his own and not care. Everybody would know it was his and, even with his dying thirst, he couldn't help but wonder just how many of these 'inventions' Gero himself had actually created. Had his infamous name he had created for himself actually been the work of others?
Gero observed the range of varying concern on this man's face and immediately answered the unasked question, "This is indeed my first time ever requiring the assistance of a human being, and even after much extensive research with my prototype hover beetles, I have reluctantly picked you. It is impossible to accomplish all I must within the given time restraints implemented by this very association, and so it is futile that I bring help in, even if all help's work will be less than satisfactory compared to my own. I have made seven androids previously, and now you must make the eighth."
He hadn't moved at all during this brief explanation. He kept his hands clasped behind his back as he observed Flappe's every involuntary twitch and aversion of the eyes. And finally, after almost a minute of watching this discomfort, he continued coldly, "I have plans drawn out for this particular android as I have no intentions of allowing your inferior mind to go into this project unaided. There are a few details that I have left to your own devices, though I shall analyze each move you make with great detail. Nothing will pass from under my eyes."
His chapped lips were drawn into a frown as he asked, "Do you have any questions?"
"May I get some water?"
The question was choked out, and rightfully done so as those evil, blue eyes blazed with a passionate fury. He had been unable to contain himself, though, and so in this one moment of bravery, he had managed to ask his heart's desire. He was unable to register just what this lunatic had been going on about, unable to consider his words. He needed water, but this was too much for Gero.
"Insolent humans!" he seethed scathingly, turning away as he rested a dry palm on the top of the glassy table top. "It is impossible for such pitiful creatures to understand the magnitude of my work! My genius!"
He ignored his cruel reflection in favor of the carpet below, unable to believe such a stupid question was asked. He, Dr. Gero, had just assigned this old bag to one of the most important tasks in the world, and he had turned it away for a cup of water? He shook his head as the thick, coarse hair fell around his sharp face. It was sickeningly mad.
And yet after only a minute of recomposing himself, he lilted his head upwards again to allow anger to meet fear. His expression failed to soften as he lowered his voice and strained it up this emotion, and like a delicate pasta after having been heated in a boiling water bath, his words came more smoother and hopefully easier for this incompetent doctor to digest.
"Water is a reward for those who work," he began in an overbearing tone, glowering and forcing the poor scientist further into the wooden back of his chair. His unkempt nails scraped the glass on the desk as he curled his fingers with a mild bitterness. "So far you have done nothing but eat our food we so generously supply to you each day." Sometimes. "We have provided you with a habitat away from the cold." Barely. "I have only come in this morning to talk to you, and I expect a professional to work under me, not a boy who cries of thirst at all hours of the day. You have not lived in drought until you have lived in my dry throat, forced to cough up my dry past, so deprived of all you lack and more."
Silence resounded through the room, and even the guard appeared stupefied as he watched, entranced, by this mysterious scientist. But Dr. Gero chose to ignore this and forced himself to forget his anger towards this human. This human before him was like all humans, and he hated them. They could not bear pain or discomfort for five minutes without complaint. Sickening, sickeningly mad.
Gero's lip curled as he stared at the pitiful man sitting before him, and it only took him a moment longer to decide that there would be no other way to carry on this conversation. He pointed towards the guard in the back of the room and addressed him as, "You." The guard jumped with having suddenly been picked out during this pause, and he flinched as Gero directed, "Bring this man water from the fridge."
Flappe's eyes widened at this, and he heard the door quietly open and shut behind him. But he didn't dare turn around. Instead, he kept his attention focused on this scientist standing before him with his crackling, demanding voice of authority. His mouth seemed even drier now with this anticipation of receiving a glass of water, though he couldn't think of that when Gero, not one to waste time, said, "I will not always be here to check up on you. I have more intriguing matters I must delve myself into at the moment, and so my stays will only be for a day or two at a time with a few weeks between each visit. I will expect you to carry out the plans to utter perfection."
"W-will you help me?"
The beginning had been coughed out, and moments later, Flappe suffered from a coughing spasm. Gero glared at him for having spoken without being asked, though he didn't lose his temper again. He was to remain calm and resigned much as the androids he developed were.
"I have no intentions of helping you," Gero admitted guiltlessly, his voice cold as those glassy, blue eyes stuck to the scientist sitting before him. "There is no need to help you - I realize that you have full capability of carrying out a few drawings."
"Yes, but-"
"There is no valid argument. Though not on the same level of genius as my own brilliant self, I have no choice but to trust you. And even then, such trust is limited. I will check over every meticulous detail of this android you create, Android Number Eight, to ensure that you have indeed followed my guidelines." And with that, Flappe noticed his arm move stiffly so as to pull out a large sheet of paper furled up into a cylinder. He moved quickly and with precision, and within only a few seconds, Gero's hands were on either side of the curling blueprints of a paper in an attempt to lay it down flat.
Flappe's eyes roved over the intricate blue sketches covering the paper, uncertain of where to start. There were different drawings for the motor system of the android, the plasmic lining, the muscular structure, the command center, and a smaller scribble off to the corner, one which seemed to be a bomb of sorts. The poor, old scientist could only blink several times, his brain not functioning properly due to his dehydration. But it was not simply this that kept him from examining the details of this massive project, as his glasses had also been stolen from him as he had been taken away. Being far-sighted in his old age, he had difficulty making out the smaller lines.
Gero disregarded his pitiful expression and plowed on, "Now, you may only enter this room when I call for you. It is not my own room, as you may perceive from the decor." His lip curled in distaste as his those dilated pupils scanned the room, passing by Flappe as though he was invisible. "It more often houses a general who visits from time to time, and he may be as unpleasant as I am, though you will find that he spends most of his nights in... the general of this tower's bedroom." And the curl was only more pronounced as he allowed this last part to roll off his tongue, focusing on the dead cluster of roses sitting on the corner of the foreign desk.
He didn't give Flappe much time to think over this bit of information as he immediately allowed that topic to dissipate and instead repeated, "You will create Android Number Eight within six months, following my blueprints where printed. Should you not follow my orders, you will be sorry." His blue eyes flashed with a lurking evil, but it was the nonchalance in this threat that scared Flappe. This man standing before him was more than evil. He was mad. Insane.
And right on cue, the door creaked open, and Flappe turned around this time to see the bulky guard make his way through the room, mumbling something under his breath as he held a glass of water clasped in both hands to his chest. He never allowed his gaze to meet Gero's as he handed the glass to him, who promptly placed it without so much as a sound on the desk's glassy surface. Gero kept his young hand, free of veins and blisters for the moment, around the cup while waiting for the guard to return to his station towards the back of the room.
Then, after tucking his long, brown hair behind his right ear with his left hand still around the innocent glass' perimeter, lowered his head. He bent over the table just so that he could make direct eye contact with Flappe, who was paralyzed with the unforgiving stare. There was the faintest hint of a crooked smile over those more youthful features as those blue eyes sparked, and Gero pushed the glass towards Flappe and released it.
"Drink it," he demanded in a low, rough voice. He watched with a mixture of disgust and fascination as Flappe lunged towards it with only slight hesitation and poured the cold drink down his burning throat. Flappe winced with how cold it was, but water was water as it trickled into his empty belly. He released a shuddering sigh, his whole body shivering involuntarily as he set the glass back down. Then he saw it.
The malicious half-smirk had become an expression of pure loathing. "So desperate is the human race," he started, standing up straight once more as he turned his back completely towards Flappe for the first time throughout this interview. "It's pathetic how weak humans may be, so weak that they tear down standards they have set for themselves. There is no dignity in being a human, as they have not the slightest idea of what pride is. They so easily sacrifice all they have to gain what they desire, even if it is something so small as a glass of water.
"Imagine a world in which humans are not plagued by these necessities." Flappe watched the broad back that seemed to heave at such a ridiculous notion, but he was too astounded by this sudden change of atmosphere to say a word. "Such a world does not exist, and it never shall. Humankind will one day be destroyed and replaced by something of greater quality. The weak will be exterminated first, and then the ones of use later. This world will become a playground for perfect beings."
Gero was so absorbed by these thoughts that he did not notice Flappe stand up quickly with a newfound strength. "No," he whispered before ducking his head, caught in another spasm of coughs. He gripped the glass edge of the wooden table as Gero spun around, shocked by this small protest. He watched the older, frailer scientist for a moment, waiting as he finally lifted his face out of the crook of his arm and repeated breathlessly, "No." He cleared his throat drily, that water having done nothing to satiate the immense thirst still tingling his throat, before continuing, "I will not help you destroy the human race for your own demented goals."
So many words after having not talked in days were lost in the air, only having been mouthed silently, yet Gero still understood. And as the two locked eye contact once more, Gero reassured him with an incredulous chuckle, "There is nothing to fear, doctor. By the time my plans go into effect, you will have long been dead." A cold sweat broke out across Flappe's thin brow, and in the background, the guard looked particularly stricken. "What this particular android is being used for is not my own purposes but rather those of the Red Ribbon Army. You have nothing to fear."
And with that, he picked up the map of Android Number Eight's body which had furled itself up into a tube without him pressing down on opposite corners. He held it in almost a friendly gesture out towards Flappe, who took it without objection. Then he said in the most personable tone he had used all morning, "Good-bye, Dr. Flappe. I will check up on you in coming weeks." He watched with leering eyes as the guard finally moved forth and place his large hand on the scientist's bony shoulder.
At first, Flappe had difficulty budging with these parting words. He tucked the blueprints into the nook of his arm, but just as the guard began forcing him out of the room, he exclaimed, "Wait!" His throat was sore with the tease of water he had been given, and for the second time that day, he managed to catch the Gero by surprise as he demanded, "My glasses. I... need my glasses."
His voice wavered with a mixture of fear and fatigue, but Gero obliged. He moved his hand swiftly into his coat pocket and pulled out a pair of large, dark-rimmed glasses, handing them without hesitation to the older man, who placed them gingerly on the bridge of his sharp nose. He released a small sigh as Gero studied him for a moment longer, and in a haste to escape the madman, he allowed the guard to guide him back towards the door. But as he reached the metallic exit, he turned around and, with an dose of courage, dared to ask, "Doctor?"
"Yes?" Gero's voiced came across as irritated, the blue irises flashing dangerously.
"How..." It was a tricky question, one that Flappe had never imagined asking before that particular meeting. He gulped deeply to calm himself and, after readjusting those thin glasses on his nose, he inquired, "How much of you is... is human?"
The question had begun eating at him as he had watched Gero rant on about how terrible mankind was, though he had been more concerned at the time with the prospect of aiding in the actual destruction. He still wasn't satisfied, not in the slightest, with what he had to do, though he was relieved enough to allow this curiosity to push through his worried brain.
For the second time, Gero managed a hint of that devilish smirk waiting behind those lips, synthetic or not. "You will never find out," he replied, the answer so readily prepared.
The memory left a lasting impact on Flappe, whose hands shook as he continued with the wrench in hand. The memory shouldn't have scared him so badly, as it had led to a comparatively positive turn of events. He had been moved to a room on the second floor next to the laboratory, and he began receiving adequate food and water. They had clothed him properly to protect against the cold, and he was only required to work for a few hours a day. But he was forced to work more. The creation of this android was more labor-intensive than the others could have imagined, and in order to meet that deadline of half a year, it was required that he stay after dark at times and work until the wee hours of the morning.
But now he was at the end of the race. He managed to avoid visitors, particularly the effeminate general who stayed at times, though he was always pushed to meet with Gero for at least ten minutes a month, though those ten minutes were dreaded. There was no verbal exchange that took place over the vase of wilted flowers, never tended to when the general took his leave; it was only a battle of the perseverance Flappe was forced to face each time he was placed underneath that scrutinizing glare, those electric blue eyes peering into the depths of his soul.
Gero would then check on the android to confirm that his guidelines were all being followed, and though Gero did not particularly like the exterior aspects of it, he never denied its gruesomeness. Gero more enjoyed finer beauty, and the face of this monstrosity was clunky and rather inexpertly created, though he allowed it to pass. He had many other projects to busy himself with, being the head of so many projects of the Red Ribbon Army.
It had been a hard six months. Flappe still wasn't certain of exactly what would happen to him had he not followed orders given, though as he felt the revolver press further into his thin back, he was reminded that it would not be pleasant. He flinched, careful to work around the bomb he had planted in the android's chest. Another cough came to his throat, though he ignored it as he brushed a strand of sweat from his taut, tan cheek. He repeatedly told himself that he would soon be free of this prison and return back to his haven of the living.
These inhuman aspects of life in Muscle Tower, whether it be scientist or android, frightened him. All he wanted was to return to the sunlight and escape this madhouse.