Log 4: N. Toxicate

Nathan stared down at his workbench, eyes narrowed, lips tight, breathing heavily, sweat forming on the small of his back. He balled and released his fists repeatedly, feverishly trying to keep his brain calmed down long enough to reformulate a plan. The second he believed Cortex was out of earshot, he slammed his hands down on the bench, wincing from the pain that shot through his fingers and wrists.

As he considered his options for next steps, he heard rapid knocking on the door that connected his and Brio's labs.

"Am I sssafe to come in?"

Nathan sighed in a deep huff, threw his arms up, crossed them over his chest and rested his chin on his balled right fist, leaning back against the bench.

"Yeah, you're clear."

Brio opened the door and practically tiptoed as he walked up to Nathan. Brio's lab coat was already unbuttoned, revealing his plain orange t-shirt underneath it. His eyes wandered all over the lab, as if looking for something. He finally rested his gaze on Nathan's face, furrowed his brows, and leaned back against one of the fume hoods.

"So…how did Cortex's review g-go?" He said each word slowly, as if surgically selecting every syllable, not taking his eyes off of Nathan's face.

"He's a fucking idiot." Nathan snarled, yanking off his gloves and hurling them into the nearest sink. Under most circumstances, he'd want to be more careful, considering that there might be toxic residue on the gloves. But quite frankly, a chemical burn would've been the least of Nathan's frustrations.

Brio rolled his eyes, jerking his head towards the hallway, silently asking if Nathan was ready to end the workday.

"Old news, Dustrielle, care…care to give me some specifics?"

Nathan nodded, following Brio's lead and walking out the other door and into the hall. He waved his arms in sweeping gestures as they shuffled along the dusty carpets, not letting the tickle in his nose distract him from his vent.

"So, just for context: today was the first attempt at actually synthesizing that catalyst…"

Brio nodded as he opened the heavy metal door at the end of the hall. He held it for Nathan, and the two descended the narrow stairwell.

Brio dragged his hand along the railing, not holding it for balance, but seeming to savor the rough sensation of it.

"Let me guess, it didn't w-work?"

Down a few floors, the two approached the wall where Gin had placed a sign and a box: Please feel free to take some earplugs!

Both Brio and Nathan reached into the box and grabbed a pair, popping them into their ears.

"Of course it didn't! It was the first attempt at something completely experimental!" Nathan spoke louder, compensating for both their muffled hearing and the steadily increasing volume of the music in the distance.

Brio narrowed his eyes, putting his hand to his chin. "Is he in a b-b-bad mood? He's had p-plenty of…moments, but he's rarely that impatient-"

"Oh no, no, no, just you wait, I'm gonna explain, but I want Gin to hear this too."

The two reached the bottom of the stairwell and strolled down another long hallway, passing another box with a sign: "I seriously recommend that you take the earplugs! "

Even through their protected ears, the song that Gin was playing in his lab was still audible, including the lyrics. Supposedly, Gin blasted metal music to drown out the sounds of the bangs and drilling from his lab, as a "public service" to the others. Brio had speculated, the first time he took Nathan to the traditional after-work hangout, that Gin kept the music that loud because he hadn't been to an actual concert in years, and wanted to replicate the sound.

Whatever Gin's reason was, Nathan had ignored both signs on the way to that first visit, and his ears were still ringing, even two days later.

The two stopped in front of a thick, solid, sliding door. Brio pressed the button on the wall next to it, and a loud doorbell chimed.

The music immediately lowered, and a few seconds later, Gin slid the door open a crack, his welding goggles wrapped around his neck. He looked between Brio and Nathan, frowning slightly.

Brio tilted his head. "Headache? Closed for the night?"

Gin shook his head. "No, I'm fine. We're still on. I was just wondering why…well…why Christmas came early."

Nathan raised his hand to ask what Gin meant, but realized that Gin hadn't seen him in the red lab coat yet. The dye job hadn't been perfect. There were spots and streaks of the coat, mostly near the hem, that were a darker, more saturated burgundy than the rest of it. Still, for a first timer, Nathan didn't think he'd done too bad. Though, as he looked at Brio's coat, and then his own, he understood why Gin got holiday vibes from their ensemble.

Gin opened the door fully, and the acrid stench of burnt plastic came wafting out. Nathan wrinkled his nose, wincing. He was clearly becoming a bit more used to the smell, though. The first time he had visited, Gin had needed to frantically search for a bucket for him to vomit into.

Gin's lab was the largest, loudest, and most chaotic one in the entire castle. It was more like an enormous garage or a factory warehouse. Tools, large and small, were piled on various spots on the ground, each pile corresponding to a different project Gin or his Lab Assistants worked on. There were prototypes and models the size of mousetraps, small scale weapons for Lab Assistants or commissioned by Cortex, the large battle mechs that Gin perpetually sought to improve upon. And between Cortex's consistent shifting of priority projects and Gin's own brand of disorganization, there were very few machines that could be considered "finished."

Gin didn't even have a singular dedicated "desk." Instead, he had five different drafting tables scattered around the room, each with a variety of papers, files, books, pencils and snacks scattered on top of them.

Yet, there was an oasis of peace in this chaos: the back left corner.

Brio stretched his arms as he wandered into the hangout space, over to the crumpled and clumsily repurposed remains of Doom Mech 5. He pulled out a box of bar tending supplies and a few bottles of liquor from a drawer that had been built into the mech's left leg. He placed them onto the DIY bar top, that extended and wrapped past the mech's "chest."

Written in paint over a crossed out "Doom Mech 5" was "N. Gin and Tonic: It's 5 here!"

Another scrawled sign on the side of the mech read "Days since last Cortex complaint: 0"

Nathan stumbled over to a worn out couch near the bar, shoving a stack of papers off of it, and flopping his body down, closing his eyes and sighing.

"Sorry." He muttered, as the sheets scattered in a million different directions.

Gin shrugged, sitting down next to him. "It's fine. Those are just little ideas I've had, nothing for Cortex or anything too important."

Nathan weakly and vaguely gestured towards the mess on the floor. "Can't you just keep them somewhere else?"

Gin shook his head. "I write or draw them out whenever I think of them, and I keep them around. Passion projects, that type of stuff. I like to tell Cortex that I need more time for his work than I actually need. It let's me try to build some of these out with that spare time. Besides, then I finish whatever Cortex wants early, and sometimes I'll give it to him early as a 'positive surprise.' Keeps him off my back, at least, less than he would otherwise be."

Nathan felt his blood start to heat up again, and groaned.

"Goody for that. Positive surprises…" He spat out the words, but took a deep breath, putting his face in his hands, gathering his thoughts. He wanted his rant to be half-coherent, after all.

Brio leaned over the bar and chuckled. "Dustrielle, you should've seen Gin a couple of years ago. He wouldn't have d-d-dared to pull any sort of shit be-behind Cortex's back. Tried to give him every possible positive surprise, told him…t-t-told him everything-"

Nathan seized his own throat and gagged as the room started to fill with a thick, strangling, smoke. Gin's rocket was choking out a heavy and steady stream of exhaust as he shot Brio a twisted, crimson, tight-lipped glare. He had started rubbing his left wrist, though it seemed unconscious on his part.

Brio saw Gin's face, and shut his mouth, looking almost remorseful. He shrugged.

"Sorry. The usual, everyone?"

Gin nodded, his rocket seeming to taper off its reaction, and walked up to the bar. Brio handed him three bottles of beer and a tall, cold glass. Apparently, much like how drinking helped some people relax, this casual sort of bar tending was Brio's hobby and the way he liked to relax.

Nathan rolled his eyes, and rubbed his forehead, softly moaning. "I don't have a usual, haven't even been here a week-!"

"So you don't want an old-fashioned?"

Nathan sighed, narrowing his eyes, but felt the rest of his expression soften. He had ordered the same thing during the first two "happy hours."

"No, no, I'm sorry, I'd very much like one. Thank you."

Brio grinned as he started crushing a sugar cube into a glass and soaking it with bitters.

"There we go, called it. Maybe you'll sssurprise me and come up with a different drink for your 'usual'. But that'll come with t-t-time, of course. If you stick with this, I won't complain though. Simple drinks are classics for a reason. So, don't leave us hanging. What did C-C-Cortex do?"

As Brio walked over and handed Nathan his old-fashioned, Gin's face suddenly went pale, as if completely draining of blood. His eye went wide, looked Brio in the eyes and pointed to Nathan.

"Cortex? Did he-?"

Brio shook his head. "No. Just Cortex being his usual self. I think."

Nathan briefly wondered what Gin meant by that, but took a long sip of his drink and grit his teeth.

"Okay, get a load of this. Cortex comes into my lab, 'cause I had that first attempt at the catalyst done. So I get a bit of it put aside, and grab a plant. I spray the plant with a little of Brio's toxin and a bit of the catalyst. Now, ideally, the plant shrivels, same as how it would with the toxin, but quicker than normal, right?"

Both Brio and Gin nodded. Nathan paused, catching his breath, and took another sip of his drink.

"Chemistry isn't exactly my discipline, but I'll wager a guess and say that the plant didn't wilt?"

Nathan span around, nearly spitting out his drink from the shock of hearing Tropy's voice. He was leaning over Gin's nearest drafting table, a faint blue glow dissipating from around him. Nathan realized that Tropy must have warped in at some point, undetected. Nathan felt his brain grow frostbitten, feeling hesitant to continue his rant. While he'd quickly been able to bond with Brio and build a close and enjoyable rapport with Gin, trying to spend time with Tropy seemed like a good approximation of Nathan's version of hell. The few interactions they had were strictly work-related, and while Tropy hadn't insulted Nathan since their first interaction, he still wasn't convinced that Tropy didn't want to teleport him away to the Stone Age, or some other god-forsaken time and place.

Brio grinned at Tropy. "Espresso m-martini, I assume?"

Tropy raised his eyebrow, his lip curling into a small smile. "Your finest, please." He chuckled softly, and if he had been anyone else, Nathan would've assumed that his wording was a joke, a put on, and a parody of classiness.

Tropy turned back to Nathan, smirking. "Oh go on, don't stop on my behalf. Please continue your story. I very much need something new to add to my 'grievances against Cortex' list. Your plant? Did it live?"

Brio rolled his eyes as he shook the cocktail shaker. "Oh, for God's sake, the… the… the… toxin doesn't kill plants, it f-forces them into hibernation-"

Nathan shook his head. "Well, actually, Brio, in an exciting development, with my current catalyst, your toxin actually melts plants. Into nothing more than organic goo. Which Cortex got to witness, front and center."

Brio poured out Tropy's martini into a glass and winced. "Oof, not great. Did C-C-Cortex yell at you?"

Nathan laughed, eyes wide, hand to his face. First, in an exasperated little giggle, but it rapidly snowballed into a desperate, furious cackle.

"Nope! Even better. He loved it."

Brio raised his eyebrow, pulling out a copper mug for his own Moscow Mule. "I…um…forgive me for n-not understanding your a-anger but-"

Nathan held up his finger, and Brio shut his mouth. He narrowed his eyes, gritting his teeth.

"He loves it, Brio, he loves it. So much that he wants me to synthesize enough to fill the entire moat around the castle."

Brio, Gin, and Tropy's eyes all went wide in the same instant, and Gin spat out his beer, coughing and sputtering. "The moat's already full of water, though!"

Nathan shook his head. "He's draining it tomorrow. And he wants me to fill the moat with the formula before I make another attempt at a catalyst that actually works as intended."

Tropy tilted his head, sipped his drink, and stroked his beard. "Did Cortex, in his infinite wisdom, give a reason for prioritizing this over your current objective?"

Nathan shook his head. "Well, I don't know how detailed you'd expect his reasoning to be, but he said, and I quote, 'Another line of defense against invaders. And it would look really cool.' The goddamn mountain itself is a deathtrap for those invaders, let alone every other line of defense we already have. And of course, let's not even consider how long that would take me, even if it was possible to do."

Brio picked up his drink, walked out from behind the bar and grabbed a beanbag chair that had been hiding under a pile of wrenches. He dragged it in front of the couch and groaned slightly as he relaxed into it. He raised the mug to his mouth and took a long sip, staring at the floor as if deep in thought.

"...I already know the answer, but d-did you actually tell him it'd be p-p-practically impossible?"

Nathan sighed, downed the rest of his drink, set the glass on the ground and rested his face in his hands.

"I…insinuated it. Gently but firmly."

Brio took another sip, frowning deeply, and shrugged.

"I told you, didn't I? He'll keep you on your toes. Let me think a minute…"

Nathan turned to Tropy. As much as no one could fully trust any man aligned with Cortex, Tropy was someone who Nathan particularly didn't want to become indebted to. Still, he had to prod, test, and figure out what his options were.

"You wouldn't happen to be willing to give me a couple of lifts through time and space? Just to give me more time to work on this?" He chuckled, weakly, to stave off his rapidly growing panic. The booze in his body would help stave it off too, but it needed a few more minutes to kick in.

Tropy smiled, raising his eyebrow, eyes shining, and shook his head.

"I'm afraid not. Ignoring any potential paradoxes, I don't make frivolous trips. Not for others, anyway. However, if your situation truly grows dire, I could be convinced."

Nathan rolled his eyes. "I guess I'd better go write out my argument then-"

A loud ding bounced through every wall and surface of the lab, and before the men could react, the door to the lab flew open, with Cortex stepping inside. He had earplugs in his hand, evidently having realized he didn't need them once he had gotten closer to the garage.

Tropy leaned over, pursing his lips, wiggling two fingers in greeting. "Dr. Cortex, come to drink with the commoners?"

Cortex rolled his eyes. "You're one to talk, you pompous son of a bitch. But no, I just came to let you all know that I'm contacting the Earthbound mutant operatives. They'll be coming here next Tuesday to be briefed on the mission and to work out the kinks and difficulties. And N. Gin, Dingodile needs a new flamethrower. He 'lost his old beauty on his last fishing trip and wants something that can pack heat and scare the tits off of anything that comes close'. Let's accommodate that, understood?"

Gin nodded. "Of course, Doctor Cortex."

"Good. Don't be up too late, boys. Productivity is a virtue."

He left the room, slamming the door shut behind him. Gin let out a loud exhale, as if he had been holding his breath the entire time that Cortex had been in the room.

Nathan tilted his head. "You okay, dude?"

Gin opened his mouth, but Tropy interjected, beckoning to Nathan.

"Back to the subject of Cortex, like I said, if things get dire, I'll consider intervening. But it won't get to that point. I refuse to formally promise you that, but there's almost a 100% chance it won't. His typical model of leadership involves every potential opportunity to reinforce that 'he's the boss.' But it'll go the same way it always goes. You'll either make the impossible possible, or he'll learn to live with reality. Time and time again, this history repeats itself."

He shrugged and sipped the last swallow of his martini. As he stood, stretching, he grinned.

"I'd hate to disobey our dearest old boss, so I'll bid you gentlemen good night. Until the next daily huddle."

Brio groaned loudly, rolling his eyes and smiled, raising his hand. "No tip?"

Tropy smirked as he fiddled with the clock on his gauntlet. "I've never paid for a drink in my life, my dear Brio."

With a flash of blue light, Tropy vanished. Brio sighed, shaking his head at the spot Tropy had just stood, chuckling. "I don't think he's walked more than five feet at a time since he first invented that. No wonder he tires easily."

He shrugged, standing up and walking behind the bar, starting to clean up. Nathan looked back at Gin, who was staring at the ground. He could practically hear the gears turning in Gin's head.

"Seriously, you okay?" Nathan asked, intentionally whispering so that Brio didn't hear.

Gin furrowed his brow and sighed. "Well, yes, but… sorry… I'm thinking about a lot of things… not the least of which…"

He paused. "Would you mind if I had a look at your solution?"

Nathan raised his eyebrow. "I… sure, I don't mind, but any particular reason why?"

Gin's mouth was on the edge of a grin, the same expression that Nathan had seen when Gin told him that he had invented the folding walls.

"I think I might have gotten a bit of creative inspiration. And I want your input."