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Among those dearest memories, the long past, care-free days of 'arcadia' over academia… All he had left now for comfort, he'd imagine…

Giddays to Murray over great cares taken; oak or walnut frames of billiard tables to put serious polish on. A small chat before he'd study up those pinnies in rotation, figure out the angles that'd earn his credit back and then some. Old-school cabinets or modern consoles, to watch peers smack each other silly, or leave losers as little more than piles of blood and body parts.

Personal point-blank range, however, to prove the highlight among highlights; colourful light guns to gild his life since that fond Christmas morning. Challenges countless to test a bevy of skills, including the acumen to blow targets apart, the agile rhythm in doing so, the focus to dodge severe mistakes, and the acuity and stamina to win under ticking clocks.

Ultimate promise of always having his home, in exchange for reasons to remain proud… One single failure to break and undo those decades of work, but perhaps a taste of redemption to finish off that fleet, courtesy of the trigger techniques he'd develop, put into constant practice.

Final moments to fall upon as both body and sense shut down one by one; vision to blur, breaths to flux and hearing to hum. Weird snippets of some indignant voices, somehow, to occupy his dreams…

"What's the meaning—"

"Access… On emergency grounds—"

"Ridiculous, there's nothing in—"

"There is, the last too…"

Sense of calm, strangest yet, to soon wash over, beliefs now that his time to go beyond had actually arrived. Cold greasy rubs or crawling creatures to not even register; such sensations to perhaps not matter, as he'd gasp final breaths and fade away.

"Hope I'll see you up there, clan… Even for just a minute or two."

"Come on child… Answers don't come when you're dead."

Whichever part such words played, difficult to decide, but he hadn't a clue for what'd then flood his body and spring him upright, eyes bursting open. A freakish energy to reboot him so quick it'd scramble his brain, really kick off new curiosities outside of any strange screams.

"Oooookay, can sit straight, nothing tender to the touch… Sight's so clear, don't taste blood, hearing's top-quoll… But why am I getting such odd whiffs of—Sweet Jesus, are those my INTESTINES?!"

No video game, nothing in media period, to prepare him; scenes of rotten abattoirs to bustle him off the bridge, begging for sources of fresh air. Stupefied blinks soon to give, for taking a single millisecond to reach the brig opposite.

"Strike a light, the fuck got rubbed on me? And by whom?" Shook his head with a laugh: "Nah, nah, I must be starved raving mad."

Paces taken and pockets ruffled to pay the snack machine, little else but groans however to find just stock certificates rustling inside. A soft thump of face into glass, in either surrender or rest, only to fling backward for shattering it.

"Hooooooo-ly crap! Hey, wait a sec…" Hands to inspect for cuts, found none. "Why aren't I, what the—?"

Still the best he felt in forever, even to see himself coated worse than the Englishmen of old looking down. Cold watery facewash to try and clear those cobwebs, before he'd reach inside the display and grab a long chocolate block.

So hungry he'd devour half in one chomp; taste though to prompt an inspection of wrappers, a sudden and sorry realisation.

"Of all the brands in all of creation, had to get this 'Highway' bar… Still, better to taste shit than be in it."

Regrets to swallow and next bite ready to take, hopes to have it over with only to gnash his teeth. A double-quick search for who snatched it mid-bite, only for the oddest tingle to make him open the wrapper. Inside, to render him gobsmacked, as fine a cocoa dust as one could create.

"Are you friggin' kidding me? Super STRENGTH?" A pump of fists, if only to stay quiet. "Oh-ho-ho, hell yes, sign me right up!"

Questions of the ally and gel responsible, ideas to get him chattering, as he'd descend to third deck ready to really put his powers to task. Figured such an evolution deserved a real test, until he caught wind of a serious war of words brewing beneath.

"Captain, we've already lost crew, we almost lost ourselves, our dolly's become junk, and we'll be sucked or burnt out trying to escape… So cut this out and call in a—"

"Ah d-d-d-don't tell me how a Captain should act! There'll be no shortcuts under my watch Ms. Wong; try anything else, you'll be lucky if I ensure your firing AND your flunkout. Are we clear?"

"Better than to die alone and starving, you dummy!"

A clutch of guts and chewed knuckles to hear the threats come out, head racing over who'd win—and how—before a finger-snap moment came to blindside him. Back up the ladders, the bridge's scent to brave again, and a sly smirk to spot the keys still in the ignition.

No surprises over the fierce mutters as his nuisance got switched off; moments into doing so, he'd flash behind to flick the Captain out cold. A careful carry and lean over the pilot seat, before he'd hustle to the cargo bay with delivery notice in hand.

"One thing wishing to see miracles, quite another to be them… No time like now to try though."

Amy to express no shortage of whats, hows and whens to spot his blood-soaked body, until he pled for quiet and waved her aside. One soaked sheet and fresh pillow to soon rest, with regrets, on his shoulders, before he'd focus ahead and get to kicking up dust.

"Have the crew she deserves yet, by oath… No matter the shortcuts to get there."

Up grassy molehills and down hedge-lined brick paths, couldn't imagine he'd so flip off the laws of physics as one return trip became five, ten, twenty then forty. A delight best described as palpable, the townsfolk could tell, before he'd stop at those giant wooden doors and yell out his intentions.

Innkeeper's "Can I help you?" to really throw him off; sure didn't expect those gargles of gravel to greet him. Though to himself, he might've said the same over that ear-to-ear handlebar, impossibly squat body, and some Bavarian-styled outfit…

"Uhhh, hello sir, your blankets and fitted sheets? Sincere apologies 'bout the blood and water, long story there, but they've all been counted and checked off. All we require is your signature."

"Thanks boy, and I know not to ask. Your crew might have a hope yet, to finally deliver what I paid for."

"Appreciate it, but I'm just their latest Officer of a long line… Will be a while yet, I imagine."

Two signatures to exchange bank funds and gratuities; offers of heavy German cuisine and one-ton steins over conversation. Searching eyes before he'd wave it off and wrap things up; couldn't imagine the hit lists he'd occupy for having gotten here.

Sure got the gist for rushing back on-board though; Captain not even stirring, despite Amy's cries and forceful slaps. Alaskan winter chills to work him through, not just out of fears of accidental homicide, but soon over wind sprints and grabs of broken glass.

"Sssshhhit, of all times to lose 'em! What the hell are we gonna do? Think, ya drongo, think."

A panicky pace from side to side, nose planted in his shirt, before an accidental kick sent a thick tube thumping across the deck. Curious grab and inspection; front and centre, 'Dr. FlimFlam's Miracle Cream' in white and gold. Flipped over, mostly a quirky mish-mash of foreign symbols that none would ever decipher… Though to spot that warning in plain English, wasn't sure he'd care to try.

"May cause superpowers in humans? By Christ's grace, this must've been what saved me! So that could only—"

Good lumps of cream to squeeze; Amy's blanching face or frantic handwaves to ignore as he'd rub down the Captain's face and arms. Twenty seconds tops before her rise in great haste, that instant to go ghost and get to his cabin.

"Now this bees my gees! Delivery stolen, absolute mess everywhere, no chance of escape… And Amy, I thought I warned you about using this!"

Knew what'd been said and done, yet soon realised his surprising out, upon stepping inside.

"Ma'am, it wasn't me. Crazy as that sounds."

"Feed me such lies at your risk. Not my first time feeling like this."

"Back off, would ya? And take a look…"

Sweats and hurried breaths to realise where the conversation led, before a fingerprint slid his door straight open. No imagining the sheer brutality to come, to seat him with his head tucked into his knees.

"Busy day since the abyss killed you?"

"I… I don't know."

"Seeing that this cabin's clean, the safe's open and that's YOUR signature"—she'd stab at dotted lines—"why should I believe you?"

Raised his head: "The signature I'll vouch for, but true as I sit, you've lost me on anything before."

Saw her lean forth to squeeze a shoulder; little cricks to make him grit, and lock eyes to her own.

"Can you prove beyond a doubt that you're not responsible?"

"Could gimme a hazmat suit, still wouldn't touch your trash. And besides waiting for your sentence, didn't hear any complaints of dumping, airlock or otherwise."

An upward look to right and left; memory gaps to fill, but relief over her grip to ease.

"Know what, think you're telling the truth… Course, that now leaves the actual culprit in question."

"Speaking of questions…"

"Make it a good one."

"Right… I imagine you'd trust Amy far more than me; why threaten her life, yet place faith in me?"

"You heard that, huh? Listen, as fine a crewmate as she's proven, she's also a Wong. A family to neither be moral or mysterious about it, get me? You, on the other hand, I can't gauge just yet…"

Sat and sidled up close, softest whisper to give: "Not that I won't try, to get a good reason…"

Gave only a gulp as he'd watch her close and lock the safe, before hearing her call around for repairs. In moving to clean up a thing or two to impress upon him; that control of such tempting abilities, but mostly the secrets she had to have hidden beneath.

Ever since he believed men could fly, such phoenix acts and superpowers were just fantasies of ink, imaginations running wild from fan film to blockbusters. And as he'd sneak about in singlet and briefs, ridding any skin and clothes of the chaos before, the ideas would invade and swarm his mind.

"Awesomeness beyond compare, no way will I give that up… Course, to get myself the goods, gonna take some serious guts."

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Any bright vibes for coming home to disappear again, the instant they could land at HQ.

Over the insistence to clear them, would wait an eternity between the Widow's Walk and the bridge's stairs. Leela to collect scrap after cracking her knuckles—powers put to good use—while Amy would follow cursing in tongues.

The Devil's flames to prefer, especially once he'd move in and eavesdrop…

"Ahhh, the sight of cash to fatten my accounts… Come my splendid crew, give me a hug!"

"For you Professor, my hug's like a hiding or plain honesty… You shall get it, to ask for it."

Peeking from the bridge, could see his Captain close in, suddenly drop all that scavenged titanium. The clangs and clatters to echo throughout; chief to get caught in a cardiac attack before she'd grip and almost pull him out of his slippers.

"Time and again you've screwed us around or stood in our way, so as CLEAR as I can make it… Forget your stupid embrace, I'd sooner kick you into Zoidberg's dumpster or out on the streets, exactly where you belong."

Co-pilot to cross arms and nod her full support, not even a flinch over the rants and raves to burst forth. Near one-to-one odds—experience making the bet—that she'd be pink-slipped and punted out on her arse; surprise then to see everything calm down inside a couple minutes.

"Your entire life's legacy in some little boxes… Must that be the only way it'll ever sink in?"

"And you're any different how?" Sudden flail of fists above his head: "Ooooh, swear I'll freeze Hell and send Satan the bill, 'fore I figure out why I keep you."

Cringes to shoot up his spine as Amy rushed in between; mentor's lips about to be smacked clean off.

"Shwhoa, cool it Captain! Always bigger concerns to deal with, don't you think?"

"You ask that while he's in charge? Must love the constant noose 'round your neck, huh?"

Copped a bump before he'd step up, stiff shoulder and neck throbs to grow. Own separate issues to deny the Reaper today, but even his old bosses would balk to treat him—never mind anyone else—the same as how Farnsworth treated his best asset.

"As the one trying to save our shelter, old bloke, MAYBE she's got a point?"

"Professor! Now be quiet and know your place."

"What of it when you're bought out? When pocket change's paid, to piss over the ashes? Could you, I or that rotting crab adapt outside this roof? Could you?"

"That's my business and not yours, dead weight. Now scram before I get dialling!"

"All we'll ever be, to give her and us hell…"

Off he'd walk to let it be, least before that series of theories started to pool inside again. Forbidden crimes to dodge only because of potential to gauge, same he'd now believe to be well out of reach.

"Captain's chance, and a single blink to snatch it away. Yet if I abuse her benefits of doubt, those gifts of hers… Might wish that it did."

Would turn to call out only to again find the big boss's mind elsewhere. A stop signal to send him out, curses muttered the whole way to propping up those lounge cushions; course, for the madness then and still to come, a tight clutch of skull.

"If only I saw who saved my life… Trust me to pay it forward by killing my Captain; do so again, I'll be done for… And yet, just know I'm gonna need that insane bloody—"

"Hey rookie, could ya get the TV?"

Surprise walk-in to spring him up in fright; would avoid Amy's curious gaze as he'd make room and reach for the remote. Guts to curdle, nausea to become burps of acid, as he kept getting requests to change the channel.

"So I've got this straight… Kids' entertainment has fallen to elementary school sluts, super-sized superheroes, and diapered types beating each other senseless?"

Got only an "Mmm-hmm" and shrug from Amy, that to tick him off even more.

"Seen, knew or heard of some disgraces, but gotta draw the line… What the hell's WRONG with these Tickleodeon bastards?"

"Spleesh, you act like they're worse than dying… Oh before I forget, take this."

A roll of eyes as she palmed a pile in his lap; chest could've lost a beat for the quick flicks of notes.

"Um Amy, I ain't the one paying student loans anymore… Sure this 250 won't go astray?"

Furtive glances, before she'd shimmy up: "Forget the money, just listen. Call me crazy if you like, but I doubt you're done with the Captain's cream."

"So what if I'm not? You really believe I'd even THINK of giving that up?"

"When you'd call space travel a fantasy, became that new superhero of sorts, of course not… I'm just worried you won't be wise in using it, that's all."

Slid down the backrest; to still see it so full, hadn't even contemplated that it could run out.

"That's why you're a Doctor in waiting. But how else do I step up? Or for that matter, keep up?"

"One delivery at a time, and pal, you plugged those lizards AND that breach for us. Didn't need powers then, to prove the hero."

"Captain and abyss gave me no choice. Truth is, from one who could act proud over sweet crap-all, I've much more to do before I'll ever feel redeemed. And you'll never convince me that I was saved by chance…"

Would shush her up upon that sliding door, the Captain of course to stride inside. Great sighs had to click through the same programs, the blank reactions to elicit puzzled stares before they'd stop on two presenters, some city nightlife behind them.

"Welcome to Root 2 News, Channel Surd for your grandpas. For your afternoon update, I'm Linda van Schoonhoven—"

"And I'm Morbo the Annihilator. Earth's Greatest Nightmare three years running… Your winner soon, I promise you."

Gruff tone to quiver the kid as the entire city made the top story, a growing civil plague captioned "Going Loony for Luneditis." First time to hear of suicide booths and spiking queues, of dog-eat-dog scuffles, especially to prove such a benign, well-survived disease.

"Oh come on now! This a world where people think it's a privilege to quit LIVING first?"

Both ladies to go "Mmm-hmm" while Morbo scribbled papers to bits, pulsing green head to boast of world domination. Prayers mumbled, maybe, that Linda's chuckle would only confirm the gag, before she'd greet her special guest, a once Surgeon General of the United States.

Or rather, to kick off the squirms, their head inside a vat of lime liquid. A name and undoubtable face that even HE might've met, to really shiver him up the couch.

"Thank you Linda, nice to be here. While I've spoken loud and often about public health matters, I pray we don't dismiss the subtle power of human spirit. Burns me still that cigars bear my name, that children remain denied of real life, but they're those I shall always fight against or for. This is C. Everett Koop, recommending a drink of ready-mix 'fore you call in the morning."

Kid's gaze into time warps to give into fits of giggles, earning a tilt or two.

"I don't get it, what's so funny?"

"Our dialect made polite, Captain. Back home, we'd say drink some concrete and harden the fuck up."

"Says you, tough guy… Still can't shine my boots, but will say you're getting there."

"Am I ever gonna know why? You're really something to handle the smells, spaceflights, and scumbag TV but—"

Gurgles to interrupt, leap her off the couch: "Never mind that, how 'bout a break for lunch?"

"Sorry but I'll pass, again didn't sleep a wink."

"Oh that's rich, refusing a free meal… You're not some alien stowaway I gotta eject, are you?"

"Yeah yeah, spare me Captain. I'll just settle for toast, you ladies go enjoy yourselves."

"You with us or not?" Amy raised a palm. "Could just get a drink, y'know."

"Uggghhh, alright fine… Gods forbid I get a minute for myself."

Fingers crossed that they weren't already onto him; shivers in deciding to see his game through. Choices to only get him so far, and for finding Farnsworth ducked under the tarp, the invasions and swarms to begin anew.

"Scuse me Professor, you have a mo—"

"Can't you take a hint, Maynard? Go away!"

"Okay, okay, have your wish! Cranky sack of…"

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Watching them pull that far in front, beliefs to hover of those ladies cooking up a scheme. Of what and for why, would reserve any judgement; this 'Food-O-Mat' to drive such thoughts straight out.

Didn't care for the readers or talkers in that buffet-bearing bistro, just the cuisines of every culture to hum along that S-shaped conveyor belt. Lunch hour to check the clock; steaks, burgers and ribs to get him on twinkle-toes, and desserts like Sundaes and drizzling pancakes to leave him ready to drool.

"As if you were ever gonna resist this, kid," Leela smirked showing a hand.

"Alright, alright, you caught me. Shame I'm out of medals, really got the chest for it…"

Quick slap of his lips; worst ketchup he'd ever taste as they settled into foam-stuffed booths, as he'd seize that true American creation. A serving so large that fries would spill off, and as his peckish boss picked at them, would try to blink out any pools.

"Again with the crying? I pulled back on that, so cut it out."

"Not that, j-j-just this flash I'm having… Never mind Captain, go ahead."

"Huh, a thing in common. And you CAN call me Leela outside of work, you know that right?"

Only a shrug before he'd take his first nibbles; fine start of buttered bread to coat every tastebud. Another cautious bite to get a world of tender succulence, the odd condiment or two as a complement. Finally, over go-for-broke chomps, he'd be left grinning over the myriad melt of crisps, chews and crunches.

And could sure get him started on those shoestrings; crunchy goodness to dip inside a pool of dressings.

"Everything and yes, a wedding ring… If only food titans were forever."

Ice-cold whiskey and cola to then offer a silent upward toast, his time taken to down it. The glass bottom to obscure Leela's body, the finger twirl he could've picked up. Sure couldn't miss the topple of ceramic though, the mess of potato mash courtesy of cutting too hard.

"Leela, I don't think the table's any edible… Something wrong?"

"Regarding you, or whatever else I've got going in life?"

"Figure you'll tell me anyway, so guess I'll get meself over with."

"Lotta work ahead, on an already full plate, to shape you up. Can't fight for crap, can't look after yourself, can't keep your mouth shut…"

"Fights aren't always physical, I've tried for getting no choice, and my mouth's all I got left. For better sorts to say the same and fail, Leela, when did I ask you to try?"

"You didn't, but that doesn't mean you shouldn't. I've always been one to seek a challenge, better or worse."

"Then go seek elsewhere. Not a life I wish to share, sure as hell not with you."

"You gotta be kidding me… I offer you an open chat over lunch, and you throw it in my face?"

"My plate's full trying to forgive what I couldn't, or won't, forget. And after piling your share, you expect my trust not even three days in?"

"Pal, you're throwing stones with a glass body… So you'd do well to try your hardest, understand?"

More his same old stories than hers to turn his face, could feel his hands curl once Amy, finally, grabbed herself a passing teapot. Not quite the scent to what he'd know anywhere, but the sights of saucers and mini milk jugs to crack his insides a little extra.

"Of all the drinks, you REALLY gotta have that one?"

"Yeah, I do, and if you're gonna take problems out on me, then I'd rather enjoy it in peace."

"Then I'm done here, screw this stupid offer…" Out of his seat and almost double doors, before he glanced back. "Thanks for the meal though."

Half-eaten and still warm, but he couldn't care less after those reminders; still left him livid as he pounded down the streets.

"Captain actin' like family, who the hell does she think she is…? NEVER have that privilege, I swear it."

Back at HQ hoping for a distraction, he'd only arrive to a 'DO NOT DISTURB' sign slapped across the lab doors. Going by the high-pitched cackles, constant bubbling and frantic gibbering, the mind of a madman once again in full flight.

"Black holes in a box? Oh don't be stupid mate, surely he's not such a doomsday lover…"

Finding himself alone for looking about the lobby, he'd rap those knuckles over the sign, then thunder his fists over the door or walls. A passing Hermes to get in front and lay in words like arsenic; fat lot of good any of it did, after getting no response in any case.

Conference view to prove inconclusive; would walk down lobbies and alleyways to confirm that his 'back door' had been boarded up as well. A jar or two to fill, sure of it, as fist or foot did little but bounce off.

"Gods-dammit, still can't reach that son-of-a… This keeps up, I'll have nothing worth keeping for."

Sudden smell to harshly halt any thoughts; strange to have heard no rubbish scatter, nor distinctive clacks or accents.

"Mayfield, my friend! You seen all the barnacles on my tuchus today?"

The throes of horror to see claws speed to and pinch those slacks; wide-eyed hand waves and headshakes as more was revealed.

"Oh no, no no no no no…"

Wall to again prove his best support when that bright pink, flab-folded shell gouged his eyes, but once they'd drift to the dozens of bumps to blacken it, some still oozing, could feel his lunch shoot up his oesophagus and burn inside.

Fought hard to swallow it down, but would wind up on his knees coating the dirt and himself.

"Ugh, urrrp, ooooh… Did I ask to see any of that, you fuckin' DROPKICK?!"

"I never heard a no."

"Then Gods help what you'll hear, when Hermes gets word of this."

Hatred and obliviousness to bank on for jogging away; withdrawn once the doc chased him down in tears. Wasn't sure of mercy until that pathetic whimper, alternative to come up with in the time spent pleading.

"Alright bisque meat, alright, how 'bout this? You break some boards down, and I'll keep this quiet. Deal?"

Taken and delivered in a heartbeat; lack of work to again strike out before he'd send Zoidberg on his way, a beeline to buzz for the locker room. Foul tongues had before he'd hit the showers and sinks, hygiene issues tackled as best he could for leaving new threads behind.

Nubs inside his mouth to begin grinding, soon as he'd see why his legal entry was locked up. Turned out the cackles just came from dreams; snores like southbound trains otherwise as that grip of long beakers came to fingertips. A careful pluck to curb obvious disaster, before he'd hover outside the boss's ear.

"Wake up, pack your things and get out… Just got word that we're out of business."

Fists out and throat trembling, Farnsworth to rise so quick they'd almost collide.

"You'll take this lab from my cold dead—wait…" Eyes to refocus, glasses pushed up. "Mayweather?"

"Rise and shine, sunshine."

"What is it with drooling morons and not reading signs?" he'd growl, giving a weak shove. "And dear Buddha, where the hell's my beaker?"

"Looked like lime cordial, so I drank it…" he'd grin, leaving the man agape. "Naaahhh, just stirrin' ya, got it right here. Though speaking of brainless sorts, how have you forgotten that we've still everything to lose here?"

"Yes, yes, yes! Swear you sound like that nagging meddler, what's-her-name… Well out of my way, I've things to invent now."

Dropped to his back over the barrage of belly ruptures, such displays to leave Professor in quite the huff.

"Don't bullcrap me, pal! We both know good and damned well that you were counting sheep over dollar bills, weren't you?"

"Besides being false and plain stupid, language!"

"Hell, were I a betting man, I'd think that such 'busywork' just avoids the actual work. Yes or no?"

"Nooooo! Drag you to the cannons were I a third my age… Now before I have it booked in, you better make my minutes good."

Laughs to have again, but joys to die quick over copping that stare. Such a tone to speak of experience; could bet his life on future extortion.

"Oooookay then, straight to brass tacks. It's simple, really; first mission, tube of miracles, wish to make something of it. And much as we'd hope otherwise, we're gonna need each other's help… Get me?"

"Your half a day's work, my ownership of forty-plus years… And you think I need YOUR help?" Professor's own mirthful ruptures, to bend him forward until the kid would right him from falling.

"Boss, that reveals a great deal more about you than me, don't you think?"

"May I remind you that you're expendable, before you go on?"

"I've no such need, and you are why… To cut no losses and cling so tight, would imagine this HQ's like your child. Yet far from helping her expand beyond these walls, your deadbeat arse just wastes whatever money she gets to make, hiding in here. I know I'm only new, but I've the opinion that she needs a change of custody."

Sudden lunge to grab and grip his top; surprising strength for a man of such age.

"How DARE you dictate how I do things?! You better hit the floor and beg, you useless hypocrite, or else I'll have you beaten and burnt out of existence… Hear me?"

"Do that, and the very same secrets to help you take off shall die with me. Again, we need this HQ more than anyone; had I the skills you did, you'd best believe I wouldn't have sought you out at all. So how 'bout it chief, you keen to rig the odds in our favour?"

A cross of arms and a nod to proceed, though as he spoke of that mission, could see the fingers or feet tap away. For gaps in recollection and experiences in general, he knew the whole thing came off as a ridiculous farce…

"I've spent two LIFETIMES living by hard data, hypothesis, and heaps of test subjects… Do you really believe I'll be sold that 'miracle' nonsense?"

"Look, I get it, even a total idiot would be sceptical for being told. But I stand before you as perfect proof, prepared to BECOME such a subject. You never had to hire me, let alone offer this place to stay…"

Hints of growls over the back-and-forth arguments, to question whether he'd been hearing things, least until the Professor snapped him back to attention.

"Ooooh, get to the point! Unlike you, my time's precious."

"I've only my mouth and manhood, inverse though they are. You help me evolve beyond that, and we'll have HQ flyin' far, if not forever."

"How so, wise-aleck?"

"Call me a dreamer, but just imagine that WE, not just the ship, could deliver on your promises. Imagine our true 'express' service; the word of mouth, the opportunities, the money to pile in over time. Perhaps bring our ship and such up to standard, certainly would fund a crapload of research…"

Boss's stammer to have him smile; Warne-like spinning pitch to expose and plain stump him. Literal lifetimes spent inventing up to this point; lest he be devastated to watch it destroyed, could no longer deny the dangers in front.

"Oh confound you… Bring that blasted thing, and I'll tweak what's under my tarp. Now leave me!"

"Cheers Farnesy, sure appreciate it."

"That's Professor to you, and don't you EVER forget that."

To know of such second chances, and ensure them from there, smile to soon reach his ears while taking the long walk to the lounge. Might say, in raring to rest up and be ready, that he'd grown sick of saying hello to old friends.

Friends that, far as he was concerned, only he had ever known…