Hotstreak huffed in impatience as he waited in the warehouse hideout for Gear to reveal the Doombot he's gonna use to infiltrate that Brotherhood of Evil mess. The hot head was so bored and the only other person in the room wasn't big on small talk.
"Apprentice, you said you only needed five more minutes to finish up," The mercenary called out in a loud monotone. His only eye narrowed a bit. "You've had seven minutes now."
Gear poked his head out past the curtain with a big grin on his face. "Just a few more seconds."
….
….
….
"Flame on." A finger long jet flame burst into life above Hotstreak's calloused thumb. "Flame off." The small fire snuffed itself out.
Oh, god he was bored. The blond striped redhead looked back over to the part of the lab sectioned off by a section of dingy theater curtain. Occasionally sounds came from behind it but mostly too low to be of much interest. The Bang Baby stole a glance at Deathstroke and raised an eyebrow at the old mercenary staring at the ceiling panels.
After what felt like an eternity Gear came out from behind the curtain. The teen superhero grabbed the draw rope and cleared his throat. "Hello gentlemen and Francis," The blond ignored the flaming bird directed at him and continued on. "Today I present the Wirewolf!"
The curtain pulls back to reveal… hot damn! A tall broad shouldered figure with rippling muscles shown off by a sleeveless belly baring hoodie. Dark grey tights clung close to the metallic skin of the robot(?)'s belly, crotch and thighs before flaring out a bit towards the heavy clawed skate-boots. Long blond hair hung down in a ponytail from the base of its black and dark green vaguely wolf themed helmet that matched the wolf themed utility belt. The robot crossed its arms over its well muscled chest and apathetically examined its claws.
"Interesting..." Deathstroke commented. The mercenary looked the robot up and down then turned his focus to the teen genius. "How do you plan to use this to infiltrate the Brotherhood of Evil?"
Gear cleared his throat looking somewhat uncomfortable under his secret mentor's icy blue stare. "Er, well, so I took one of the robo-commandos and altered its programming. And structure. And grafted the tissue from one of my tentacles and... "
"WE SHOULD PROBABLY GIVE THEM THE SHORT VERSION, YES?" The techno-organic robot suggested. Gear nodded in agreement and gave his creation the go ahead to continue. "I WILL GO IN MY HOST'S STEAD AS YOUR APPRENTICE TO ACCEPT THE INVITATION THAT THE BROTHERHOOD SENT DEATHSTROKE. BEING PHYSICALLY SUPERIOR AND MORE TOLERABLE OF CRIMINAL ACTIVITIES, I'D FIT IN BETTER."
"Of course I'll give him a list of activities that he's not to take part in, but yeah he'll do some sabotaging once we figure out what the Brotherhood is actually up to." Gear continued. "Since Wire is mostly just Brainiac's program overwritten with my own personality, he'll act more or less as a really amoral and asocial version of me, which probably fits your purposes better. Also we kinda share a brain so any experience he gains is shared with me."
"I see." Deathstroke said, seeming satisfied with the plan. "And I suppose, that if your puppet gets caught by the Titans or the Justice League and found out, then you'd probably deny responsibility of it. You might even that your program did all this on its own, wouldn't you. And of course Wire would claim responsibility."
"...Well… yeah… I guess?" Gear replied with some uncertainty. Not for the first time in the past few months he felt less than superheroic.
"TO PROTECT THE HOST, I WOULD."
The mercenary chuckled darkly. "Now you're thinking like a villian."
"Mmmm, now I just feel icky." Gear mumbled to himself and rubbed his arms. Speaking up now the blond said, "Any other questions?".
Hotstreak's hand shot up like a student who had the right answer in class and wanted to show off. Gear frowned at the terrifyingly mean looking grin on the other teen's face. He asked Hot streak, "I'm going to regret letting you ask this question aren't I?"
The redhead nodded in the affirmative and if possible his grin got bigger.
"Fuck, ok fine. What do you want to Frankie?"
"That's a sexbot isn't it?" Deathstroke's palm make close friends with his forehead as Gear's visible skin turned red and the see-through part of his visor became brown. Hotstreak chuckled at his flustered boyfriend's struggle to respond to his question.
"N-no it's not a sexbot! Why would I make… that sort of thing. This is an infiltration unit!" Gear stammered with outrage.
"Well, it looks like your type." Hotstreak shrugged.
"What, no, wha-"
"I CAN BE A SEXBOT, IF THAT IS YOUR DESIRE?" Both teens turned to the robot. Gear could only make sounds of distressed frustration. Hotstreak on the other hand raised an eyebrow in interest.
"Okay," Deathstroke said suddenly as he turned on his heels. "I have to go home now. I'll pick up the robot in the morning. Bye."