Chapter Six: Bravo, Board, Boom
". . . so, she was sweet, I'm talkin' like honey, and she was really wild for me. Then I told her I was comin' here to Downtown to help fight. She wanted to come and take care of my socks and head my fan club, but I was like, 'Whoa, pretty momma! This is war, baby, not any place for anything as perfect as you.' I broke her heart by leavin', but this is man's work, man."
Maybe it was him, maybe it was this elevator in particular, but every time he was in here, Ben was accosted by the strangest people. Tonight was no exception.
The tall man with sculpted blond hair and sunglasses and an accent that made him sound like Elvis was chatting away in Ben's direction and acting as if the teenager actually cared about his egotistical ramblings. A few heavily armed, very capable-looking girls in jack boots and skin-tight outfits were glaring their way and Ben desperately wished the idiot would get a clue and shut up before he got them both killed. Space was limited in the elevator, and each time Ben tried to put more distance between himself and the self-appointed lady's man, the guy just followed. His every motion was accompanied by a dramatic pose and a flex of muscle, and he seemed to think every female who clapped eyes on him was instantly enamored because he kept throwing 'come hither' looks at the disgusted girls. At this speed, Ben expected that at worst Johnny Bravo would be found dead by the morning, at best beaten into unconsciousness with rifle butts and kitten-heeled boots.
Mercifully the elevator slid to a stop and the doors opened. In mid-pose Johnny whipped around, slack-jawed.
"Oh, momma! I think I'm looking at the future Mrs. Bravo. She wants me! Can't disappoint her! Stay cool, ace!"
He sped out of the elevator and vanished into the atrium. The girls grumbled and filed out. Ben silently hoped that Bravo had spotted Mandy, his imagination of Johnny's fate supplemented by the last horror movie he and his girlfriend Julie had watched.
He was almost successful in securing the elevator without resorting to the Omnitrix when a small, grubby boy in jeans and t-shirt darted in at the last moment. He carried a stack of photocopied pages and promptly thrust one into Ben's hands.
"Have you seen him?" he demanded, looking on the verge of tears.
Ben glanced at the paper and the photo copied onto it as he hit the button for the second floor. It was a crude, hand-written missing poster for –
"It's a board."
"It's Plank!" insisted the boy. "Plank! He's missing! You gotta help me find him!"
"I'll . . . I'll keep an eye out for him," Ben promised, shoving the paper into the pocket of his jacket.
"He's the king of the cul-de-sac! He's my best friend! He disappeared this morning," raved the boy. "I just know he's been captured by Fuse!"
"Uh-huh."
"There's a reward! Look!" Another copy was waved in his face.
"Good! Hey, look! Here's your floor!"
The doors opened and he hustled the boy out, yanking out his ID to lock the elevator before anyone else tried to get on. If push came to shove, he was fully prepared to turn into Goop and fill the elevator with green slime not far removed from snot to get it to himself.
"Sheesh!" he exclaimed, tempted to bang his head on the wall. "What a crew!"
But then he fit right in, he mused, considering the fact that he was heading right for Dexter's lab. On purpose, no less.
Sub level nine was exactly as he remembered from last night, but to his surprise the blast doors were wide open. Suspecting the worst, remembering the lights and alarms and looking down the barrel of a null-void, Ben proceeded with caution. The lab was lit only by lights and panels and screens on the equipment that filled the place from floor to ceiling.
"Wow." Ben came to a halt, staring. He had been too preoccupied last night to notice his surroundings. Every surface was gleaming stainless steel. Banks of computers and equipment, experiments and weapons lined the walls. Along the far wall, visible in the shadows, stood a row of robots and exo-suits ranging in size from tiny enough for the likes of Dexter, all the way up to two or three stories high. Banks of laser weapons – everything from handguns to the familiar craziness used by Earth's Combined Forces to turret-mounted howitzers – gleamed threateningly from the shadows. Strange, faintly familiar items littered a few work tables, and there were so many tools and machines for fabricating equipment that Ben couldn't help but think of Kevin. He would be like a kid in a candy shop if he ever got this deep into DexLabs.
Why were all the lights off? Now that he thought of it, the lab had been very dark last night, too, once Dexter had turned off the spotlights. Once his eyes adjusted to the multicolored twilight, Ben could see quite well and over the hum of machinery. It was very cool in here, too, almost cold, and he remembered that Dexter had worn a turtleneck sweater even though it was July. Small wonder he bundled up.
Feeling like a bug on a plate, Ben advanced deeper into the lab. Over the hum of computers he could detect another layer of sound off in the distance.
"Uh, hullo?"
"Hello, Ben Tennyson."
He jumped a foot in the air as a feminine voice answered from behind. He whirled and found himself faced by a sleek and silvery robot that was undoubtedly built to be female. She hovered over the floor on a beam of blue light and her face held a surprising amount of expression.
"Hi," he said. "Um . . ."
"I'm Computress. I'm Dexter's computer."
He recognized the name from last night's fiasco. "Oh. Wow. Nice to meet you. Sorry if I bothered you guys last night. Umm . . . the doors are open?"
"We're expecting a delivery. It's very nice to meet you as well. Professor Utonium was very pleased when you agreed to keep an eye on his son."
"I got the feeling he's pretty worried about him."
"In more ways than one."
"What do you mean?"
"Professor Utonium is trying to keep Dexter from shutting himself completely away from the rest of the world. Dexter has his reasons for being a recluse, but he also needs friends close to his age and companionship outside the laboratory. That's why Professor Utonium was so glad to finally meet you. He thinks there's a great deal you can teach his son."
Ben blinked in astonishment. Utonium wanted him to teach Dexter?
Computress paused. "I have to go. Excuse me, Ben Tennyson. It was a pleasure meeting you. I hope we get to talk again soon."
It was only when she flickered out of sight that Ben realized she was a hologram. He smiled faintly and said, "Later."
He tried to aim for the source of the sounds and presently he spotted some activity. His wandering route brought him to a railing overlooking the lower level of the lab, and there below was Dexter. There was no mistaking that hair or those bright purple gloves. Before him was a long metal table loaded with chemistry equipment straight out of a mad scientist's B-movie lair. Beakers and crazy-looking containers boiled over Bunsen burners and he could not begin to name half the equipment in use. Watching Dexter fuss for a few minutes, Ben immediately thought of a master chef working in a kitchen. He was so focused and intent that it was almost comical.
Dexter lifted a narrow-mouthed flask full of something orange to eye level and began to measure in liquid from a test tube. For a moment he seemed to notice he was not alone – Ben could have sworn the kid looked up and saw him – and so Ben waved and called,
"Hi, Dex!"
Mistake.
Dexter jumped, startled, and the motion caused him to dump the contents of the test tube into the flask. The reaction was instantaneous: the stuff in the flask turned a rancid green color, gelled, and began smoking all at once. A sound of woosh! followed a moment later as a cloud of oily green vapor shot up at the boy genius like a Roman candle, breaking the flask and every other piece of glass in a ten-foot radius, spilling more fluids. Alarms activated and huge overhead fans sucked up the offending stench with so much force Dexter's clothes and hair whipped about.
"Oh . . . crud," Ben said very, very softly as part of the table dissolved beneath the combined chemicals spreading out across it. The floor started to smoke as liquid dripped down from the hole in the table.
The boy reeled back, coughing but upright, and then his shoulders slumped as he realized what had happened. In his hand he still clutched the stem of the shattered flask. Overhead fans sucked away the last of the smoke and vapor and the alarms silenced. He stood there, staring open-mouthed at the mess strewn before him.
Ben found some open metal stairs down to the lower level and he took them two steps at a time, rushing across the floor.
"Dexter! Dex! Are you okay?"
In an angry gesture, he threw the bit of broken glass onto the table, adding a bit more to the mess. With both hands he reached up and pulled his goggles away from his face, settling them on his now oily green hair. A faint cloud of dusty vapor the color of mold rose up with his every motion. From the waist up his coat was green and his gloves were a ghastly shade of puce. Only his eyes, protected by the heavy goggles, had escaped the power coating. He glared heartily at Ben as the older boy stumbled to a halt.
"Are you okay?"
"Is DeeDee giving you private lessons in annoying me?" he demanded.
"I'm sorry! I thought you saw me!"
Dexter sighed, knowing Ben's concern was genuine. "You seem to spend a lot of time apologizing. How could I possibly see you with the laboratory so dark?"
"Why is it so dark?" wondered Ben.
"Right now it has to be." He turned back to the wreckage and gestured helplessly, his hands falling to his sides. "That was a week's work." He put a hand to his head and then realized his gloves were wrecked when he smeared the green coating about. With a growl of annoyance he peeled the goggles off, dropping them on the floor. His coat followed, then the gloves. "Computress!" he snapped, and a hologram identical to the one that had spoken to Ben appeared. "Run a full analysis of the chemicals dissolving the work bench. Get this cleaned up and decontaminated and get a crew in here to replace this equipment."
"Right away," promised the super computer. "The compound coating you is non-toxic but will require something acidic to remove it without staining. I suggest vinegar or lemon juice." She promptly vanished again.
Dexter sighed and shook his head. He looked much smaller in solid black. Still seething with annoyance, looking ridiculous with his hair and face green, Dexter folded his arms across his chest and turned on Ben.
"What do you want now?"
Ben gestured at the mess he'd caused, wincing as the table gave way and collapsed in a shower of broken glass and equipment. "Can I help in any way cleaning this up?"
"No. It's too risky. That's what I have robots for."
"Honestly, Dex? I just wanted to see how you were doing."
Dexter shook his head, confounded. With a frown and a derisive tone he demanded, "Why?"
Ben stared at him, wondering how anyone as nice as Professor Utonium had ever survived this high-strung little beast. "I'm beginning to ask myself that same question."