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From the moment his white leather shoes graced that grandest of events, he knew he had done himself in—was to what degree of gravity to worry him, as pokes of flesh roused him awake, trying to piece together this latest fine mess.

The crusty eyes, migraines, smacking lips and groans all par for his course, and yet, this wouldn't be any rise from some self-inflicted alcoholic autopsy. And as eyes and neck began darting about, he'd soon determine that he wasn't at home, nor the Metro, nor HQ, nor anywhere he could recognise, just a chamber of stone both dark and dank.

"Ohhh shit—how'd I get here?!"

And as if things couldn't go from Earth to Stumbos-4 any faster, there he'd be in his alabaster birthday suit, bound by cables and straps, sat upon a wooden chair laden with splinters. Never dared to dream that such power could be abused so blatantly—thought to expect a spiked cognac or simple flick of fingers.

"HEEEYYY, HEEEYYY, the hell's going on?!"

"Wakey wakey, meet the snake-y."

Echoes from seemingly everywhere, before a burst of light and familiar hisses froze him cold; giant scaly river, same to deliver the invite, to now sway forward and rise before his eyes. Even without revealing fangs the size of daggers, could hear his heart going a mile a minute.

"Fire some warning shots, 'till I say otherwise."

Couldn't yell nor scream as that thing sprang into attack; second-long spurts between lunges and rear backs as it bit the chair by word alone. Dared not offer a headbutt for fear of lethal retaliation, especially to almost be caught over errant dodges of panic.

"Nice job Fingers, now—"

"Wait, you gave that bastard a name?!"

"Quiet. Now, risey risey, here's the spidey."

Body to cut into leather or steel for trying to break free, only for the softest little flickers to drain whatever colour stayed in his skin. Peruvian Spiderfly's lazy hover to almost make a mockery of his shaking, more so when it'd land on his face and crawl about without a care.

Didn't even hear the nastiest of laughs over his head swings, vocal and violent, and didn't realise he'd be seconds from a bite before it'd hop off and head away, seemingly by choice.

"Least a hundred thousand light-years between us and help, so tear your throat out all you like."

No mistaking that voice nor the monster to speak it, as through so-called heavens, both he and 'Admiral' began to approach. Tan safari suit, wide-brimmed hat, leather belt emblazoned with 'ZK', and upon a shoulder, what must've been a nuclear-powered butterfly net.

"So it WAS you? You're the 'master' I'd hear about?"

"Indeed so, my lad. Been keeping eyes on you since your hire, and it seems you've proven quite the presence of late… Miraculous, even, given my history with those 'heroes' inside your HQ."

Zookeeper to then waddle up close; gratitude that nobody duct-taped his mouth, as insides began to curdle, then rise up burning his oesophagus. General's grogged up breath to outdo, hands down, while they eyed each other off.

"Doubt it Reggie, was just—"

"It's Reginald, you rude little lout!" he'd slap him.

"Owww, hey, what gives? Always kept names short back home. Now what do you mean by these 'miraculous' ways?"

"Oh dear God, must I really spell it out? Don't tell me you're as dumb as you look."

"Could use a queer eye yourself, bud. Just saying, when it wasn't a solo effort by any means, I can't believe that's the only factor."

Little laps to see continued, as he'd squirm in his seat: "I know the ones you work for. And between everything I'd know or gather since the beginning, and noting portfolios and situations now, it's a resurrection you'd better start answering for."

"Sir, I just wanted to survive this future, in hopes of figuring old lives out. Have YOU ever been sucked outta your ship like a milkshake, had the cosmos turn you into chopped liver? Thought I'd be thankful for a merciful death, then bibbidy bobbidy boo, I'd rise up with unexplainable superpowers."

"I see. Splendid to know how easy you're gonna be to 'persuade."

"And there's your damned answer, as to why this 'anomaly' needed such guarantees. Don't you think that between my line of work, all the threats, and my Captain's stories that such an investment was warranted? I mean, bugger me dead, why already consider me an enemy to not even know me?"

"Because you'd bring back potential pasts that I'd long grown to loathe… Luckily, I DO think one can be educated, and I DO love a ride of nostalgia, so—"

"So now I gotta hear out the mongrel who'd murder me? You're kidding, right?"

"It's not often I offer such an alternative, so you'd be wise to be grateful."

"Not when I've got no choice. So just go about your story and get it over with."

Couldn't count upon a clock as the fat man cleared his throat, yet as that yarn began to unravel, he'd begin admitting to time not mattering at all. Both Archbury and he to have girths that so embodied the 'easy life'—former's journey to prove anything but, however, for all he'd be forced to confront and learn on the fly.

By any account, would be born an average if beefy baby, somewhere beyond familiar outskirts to explorers just coming of age. Next to nothing else known despite any research since, only that over these obsessions—no distance, danger nor expense to matter—there'd be no pause in their pursuit of charting out the universe.

Naturally, under purely pragmatic measures, babies to be a bigger burden than not.

Often no money left to hire a minder, either, and for how often and how long they'd leave, even he'd fume to imagine the constant cries damning that block, situations to soon involve the NNYPD. Poor dear to dob 'em in hadn't slept for years, even before his temporary stay, and by a miracle the Child Protective Division would be prompt in coming to collect him.

Of course, the actual story to begin where most others ended—Central Bureaucracy to stamp that dreaded 'ORPHAN' on his file, and then the boys in blue to just dump him off directly to Cookieville; no go given, not one red cent to collect.

From there, rarely a day in beyond a decade to escape this prison or its tormentors; chants of "Reggie, Reggie, fill your face with veggies!" to fill his head as he'd try fighting back, only to get laid out and laid upon the dirt. Neither cruel chant nor laugh to leave, no matter were he awake or asleep.

Only much later could he find solace in the streets, escaping when all lights were out; black clouds deep within to explore and ferment, mixed in with odd encounters that, for once, he would have belief in winning.

Such as that drunken veteran—his very first—with a hat full of change, hearing him slur about 'writing on the wall.' A euphemism kids without toilets knew well; psyching himself up, would take that opening to slither in, snatch that prey, and vanish out of sight.

No better taste of success than buying that McPluto's Value Meal, and no better way to awaken animal spirits than earning his first dollars. Adoption had now become a sucker's game—sitters rather than chasers, hopers rather than hustlers.

That first successful hunt to then snowball into years of stalking the children, elderly, or disabled in that dead of night; by sixteen, best that he knew, both his girth AND name would grow into something sizably feared.

Tormentors of old, far from fancying a fight, to now aim for truces, hoping that bygones could be bygones—instead, spoke only four words before he'd shake their hands. Elephant never forgot, indeed, when eventually he'd sneak back toward their beds, then let weapon and weight really lay them to rest.

Didn't care that Vogel would connect the crimes and kick him out, for he'd already make himself a home at the local zoo. Countless places to sleep and creatures that kept to themselves; certifiable paradise where he'd grab his first job and rise up the ranks, lying low and taking things slow.

Over the years and decades, those dual identities as animal carer and human scourge would rocket him among the richest citizens on Earth. Humbly, as a specialist of heists and schemes, whether in person or through the markets, he'd count that among his simplest feats.

As for the equipment, that'd come courtesy of being generous with grant money, combined with the experience of all the errands, tours, enclosures, and people he'd run while climbing ladders. Creature and scientific know-how to create his whistle, and with it a crime spree beyond the conceivable… At only his whim, any animal to distract, steal from, frighten, or just rip apart any who'd oppose him.

But some years ago, an attempt to pilfer the Quantum Gemerald would bring his hell-raising to a head; fast-rising trio of caped crusaders, the New Justice Team, to swoop in and create headaches. Had seen the spreads and heard the scores—indeed, they'd end up spoiling what should've been an easy snatch n' grab.

Perfect records stained to exchange capture for empty hands, and in such musing, a malice that this single defeat was destined to begin his undoing. No doubt they'd get on the map to get him in orange, and lest he'd lose his whole empire, he couldn't fancy giving second chances…

Lo and behold, their royal braggart to drop everything into his lap by doing the news rounds; follow-ups among friends to personally call them at work, offer of a truce in mind. Steal the Quantum Gemerald for him, he didn't care how, and he'd promise to leave the city as it was. Millions of lives on the line, of that he'd make certain—up to them how much they'd suffer beforehand, if at all.

A shake of hands and going of separate ways once the trade had gone through; anyone to believe that any feud was all over afterward. They sure thought so, to never hear him whisper his four favourite words…

"No need to catch you up after that, I'm sure. So, did you understand?"

"Understand? Hell, much of that kid WAS me, WITH screwy mental spikes to boot. Still, for how often I'd be humiliated, harassed or outright hurt, I was taught it was better to watch 'em burn than to strike the match. Get my sympathies and then some, even if they can't mean a thing, but still, why am I here?"

"My request is quite simple. In light of what's been done, I have a few questions; refuse or answer wrong, and my Admiral here will 'correct' you. Care to get a demonstration?"

Might've soiled himself over the growl and grip of one hand, but it'd be the sound similar to crisping sugar glass to horrify him most. Could only be payback as muscles and bones got crushed into powder, one to unleash a roar as well as the waterworks. Fibres and nerves to flare red-hot, and blood to suddenly spurt.

"I believe that'll suffice. Does that persuade you to play along?"

"The FUCK did you do to me?!"

"Language, or I'll squeeze again! As for what I did, and might do, that should be obvious. Now I won't axe again, does that persuade you to play along?"

Chest soon heaving from cries, he could barely nod in letting the interrogation commence—grimmest balancing act yet, against these monsters moulded from mankind.

"So, seems now I face a real risk of Captain Leela's return, especially if she finds out that I'D cleave her company and life apart… How did you do it, how did you hide that cream so it'd escape our eyes?"

"H-Hide it? How? Just having my hands on it got me in deep trouble, well, besides YOU two always wanting my head."

"Your peril, from here on, to treat me like an idiot. Already been told the concrete proof, and I've enough of THESE to ensure I get my answers…"

Could only clench eyes and grimace, not just for his hand, but to see Zookeeper grab his own miracles. Even when unbound, Admiral to be the far better fighter and, if given the order, likely not above the prospect of perpetual torture and revival.

"I-I just don't get why you're axing. Those orphans of old are out there selling body parts, and those heroes of then no longer exist. Hell, for never knowing of your threats, their own city made 'em OUTCASTS. What in every Gods' name did you gain, for getting so personal and giving 'em axes to grind?"

"What's done is done, and that doesn't answer my question… Maybe you don't listen like you say you do."

A blink-and-miss-it nod to get a fist slammed over his right hand; nothing shy of obliteration that'd bring out more bloody bursts, more screams, more weeps to wet his skin.

"Concerning one's enemies, better too much than not enough, better decisive over decision, when you seek their downfalls. Send 'em crawling into their holes if not their graves—speaking of which, you WILL if you don't start talking."

Face warping often over the agony, the words just wouldn't come out, even as Archbury began circling, dishing out the odd slap.

"We've got all night, and days ahead. Do you?"

Gritted his teeth, best he could: "Sir, miracles aren't what they claim to be. If anything, they're serums to the self you want to be and can be, without the worry of getting wasted. Captain's my biggest hero out there, bar none, but you can't be serious in saying she's got a chance against you."

"You might leave things to chance, but I don't. Or rather, if I'm to ensure that Earth lives as I wished I did, I cannot when remnants of societies like yours remain. Such filth and squalor must stay buried, that's my sworn and solemn duty. Now, I'm gonna get the answers I'm after, your loss if it's not right now."

Another clench, another grimace: "Alright, alright, not like you didn't make your point. Way before I ever became a delivery boy, old friend of Leela's left a tube behind as a gift. Never knew who, but she'd guard that thing with her life, and after my first time—"

"So the addictions would kick in, and you'd scheme to get any fix you could?"

"Better than those I had, so of course. But even to be called suspect, such schemes were always meant to benefit us both… Figured after wasting good lives, could finally DO good in life—all I ever wanted to do after what I'd done."

"In so many words, certainly. And I'll pretend I didn't hear that 'good life' part. So, don't spare the details, how did you go about your schemes, and why?"

"Enlisting the same know-how you did, and keeping any secrets silent. And in one word? Gratitude. First time I met Leela, I'd be a bum soaked in whiskey vomit, having risen from a blackout. Typical weekday, I'd gather, 'till I realised I'd travel ten thousand miles away from home, AND centuries ahead in time."

Could've sworn he'd hear 'Admiral' sniff, breathe a bit, but couldn't be sure either.

"Between that age before, and all the crap since… No way was her offer of help gonna go unpaid, even to suffer to see it done."

"How piteous to give up such potential for that useless woman. I thought you'd strive for better, especially to roam those rotting halls as I did."

"Can't tell ya how often she'd tempt me to take off. And I would've, 100%, if it weren't for craving answers 'bout you arseholes. Who else but her to have 'em, and who else but her to get me doing things my time's greatest minds would've nuked the planet to achieve? So spare me your pity, 'cause I'd sooner save mine for a miserable made man who can't let go and can't look forward."

"Thread by thread, boy, these delays just thin out what little pity there's left. Which, to be clear, is all that stands between going free and in one piece, or staying here in finely diced pieces."

"Just take what I've got in New Jersey and get outta my life. Darkboy oughta know where, for having history."

Archbury's laugh to crack as he'd tap his cheek: "Now wasn't that easier, my dear boy? And—watch to be checked— just in time for my TV show too. Think we both could use a break; Admiral, lounge me first, then heal up and host our friend at your quarters."

A grunt before that minion hoisted their master; about to exit out at speed, until Archbury raised a finger and requested a return.

"Oh, and Thomas? Should you become so unpleasant to my eyes again, pray that you die before we find you."

Didn't answer as Archbury disappeared, as he'd wait for what felt like hours before cables and straps were ripped off, as balm was rubbed in, as he'd get slung over and carted down a messy path of rights, lefts and straights. Even to realise a return to health and powers, had never felt so at risk and powerless to stop it.

"This what I get, huh? A marvellous stay with my murderer, over those stupid miracles?"

Gently rested on a guest bed, he got to thinking of makeshift prayers if only to score points. Even to somehow survive, had to have given up his future; only thing left was to sit up and watch Admiral, who'd lay back in their own bed and remain silent.

Each second to take an eternity, seemingly, as the stench—much like old crew cabins—kept him from sleeping. If that weren't enough, he'd begin to hear a guttural snarl growing from the other side.

"Grreeaat, bastard's got somethin' to say… Wonder what fireside chat's on their mind?"

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"How's your hands, maggot?"

A hock of spit their way: "Does that answer your question? Piss off, alright?"

"Did you just—?

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry… Sorry I must've missed, sit up so I can have another go."

"You wanna prove how brave you are when I rip you apart, powers or no?"

"Didn't help ya at the Hudson, and it won't here and now. Maybe we could mingle instead of mutilate, sound good sunshine?"

"The hell it does, and don't you dare go there. Ain't no sunshine anymore, since you'd take that ALONG with everything else."

"Oh really? Okay, I'll humour it, how did I so ruin your life since you came barging into mine?"

"Think that after seeing you, hearing what you said, and touching the things you did, that I'll let you play me for some stupid idiot?"

"When all you have is false belief, planted to rot and left to fester, then why bother? Why compete with somebody who'd win such games every time? Though, to mention the things I'd touch—"

"Be careful what you say next."

"Since I can't do a thing to stop ya, can only hope I'm there to hear your fat friend order the inevitable. Your agony, as her blood coats your hands, would be my delight."

It'd be a remark to summon a roar of rage, a sudden move to leave him thrashing and gagging then and there. Not much needed to choke him out, and then he'd finally earn a passing rest.

"Yes, have at me, let fury have this hour! Won't bring back the merry life you led, the friends or lovers lost."

Admiral to thud him against the sheets, not caring to hear a thing.

"But if you're the one I'm after, perhaps I can. Ain't any friend of yours, it's true, but I'm the only one you're gonna have on this Gods-damned planet."

That to actually loosen said grip, indeed enough to inhale for a moment or two.

"Listen, don't listen, I don't care, but I shall leave what I say at your discretion. Freedom of choice, if you fancy. So how 'bout it?"

A colder fury not seen since the parlour, yet would cough and splutter to be released—sitting back up, he'd spot Admiral sitting on his bed's edge; legs spread, elbows upon them, and hands gripped.

"And what are you gonna reveal that's gonna change my mind?"

"Can't say I know for sure, but I've got a theory or two. Let's just say that if they're correct, then between who you were and who you've become, we'd have gladly worked by the former's side."

"Is that a fact? How can you even PRETEND to know who I really am?"

"I'd rather be given the details, daresay the chance to care, than just blurt out what I believe. So, let's let our hearts be open books; way I see it, you're gonna remain trapped to try hiding now… Capiche?"

"Yeah, whatever you say. Now, where and when was home, and how did you end up here?"

"Address was some pissant suburb in south-east Australia, 'bout, hmm, ten centuries ago. And how I got here still does my head in; latest lost job to drink meself into a coma, crossing fingers for death, only to wind up waking sober in some city I could never know. Less said about that day, the better."

"So, the loser of losers? If I'm hearin' it right, then why the hell would anybody axe for your hand?"

"Hello, did it look like I had ANY idea, let alone wanted it? Though I'm grateful to be given such a chance, you have my word that such a situation is temporary… Would you want a wife and kids knowing you've lost loving families before?"

"Not like we never move on. Why so certain?"

"It's the how that hurts me still, the why where I want answers. But even to forget that, be capable of such, there was no mistaking whose hand she really wanted, and it weren't mine nor anybody's of rank."

"So whose was it, then?"

"Same guy who gave his life to save hers, died a true hero that day… So, are you them? Can you put that theory to rest?"

Hopeful signs to get a sigh: "Even if I were, wouldn't know how. Been this beast so long, can barely recall any other life."

"Well, I've got a few snippets, stories, and songs we can begin with, courtesy of her beautiful gift. If you can grab my suit, we'll get that little ball rolling."

A handprint and rushing wind to be the only sounds of departure, right then to try grabbing a few winks. Not the nicest rest for not knowing when Admiral would return, or whether they'd fetch The Zookeeper, especially to consider the man's wealth and imagine the technologies of today.

Long draw of breath when Admiral returned alone, with full suit intact, an actual place offered to get dressed. As big a bastard as master and guard had been, still had to begrudge them their hosting etiquette.

"Wonder who else's gonna see Wee Willie Winkie. Anyway, here goes… Symphod, if you're still here, turn on and turn up."

The eventual hover into view to think of clasping hands again, as it took its time to survey the surroundings. Had to be a minor miracle to remain practically untouched, given all to happen between good times and torture.

"Can't say I know the complete deets, but can tell ya she's my most prized possession yet. To still hear, through its archives, the good ones I'd lose, say it's really gotten me through the gravest of days."

"I see, but why believe that I'd love music like whoever came before me?"

"Songs and stories, they go hand-in-hand more often than not. And to recall a certain Captain's tales, I believe the Hustle did so once?"

"Admiral, was it? Timeless even today, that Van McCoy classic, how do you want it played?"

"Uhhh, just as is box thingy. And not too loud. Uh, please."

Though not actually known for lyrics, it wouldn't take long for its build-up—bass guitar plucks and lead-up vocals, to drums, xylophones and maracas in stride—to intoxicate that beast into tapping hands and feet; slow at first, then to the rhythm. But the instant that famous cry rang out, any piccolos burst to life, Admiral would rise to shuffle, spin, and swivel right back to the 1970s.

Quite a sight that they'd never lose a step, more so for the abrupt stop, the 'picture headaches' to send them straight back to bed, clutching with grunts.

"What the hell's the meaning of this? Was that your plan all along to hypnotise me? 'Cause if so, can promise you won't like what's coming."

"Hey, Hustles were s'posed to be YOUR native dance, that's all I know. Think I'd actually be here were I so clever? Was just wondering how that came to be."

Oozes like oil to seep from shadowy pores; flashes of magic tricks, newspapers, artefact discoveries, ancient workplaces… Hint of a smile over some mutt, soon quite wide to recall swims in pizza sauce, the sing-along woofing, the bike rides all across the boroughs.

Memories and more to tempt out tears; his were Rainbow Bridge veterans well before he got here.

"Ahhh, reasons among many to love dogs myself. They to help me go the distance, when near everyone else hoped I'd stay down."

First and only hustle to rise over an argument; three straight days in sunshine and rain to claim 'Seymour' back. Only an odd comment to obtain victory, yet in such fond love for friends of the past, he'd forget the festering jealousy of one future crewmate.

Sure didn't forget their deed though, to witness further dints be belted into solid steel, enough to scoot back with widened eyes. However, after great deals of guilt and a re-rescue, it'd turn out that Mr. Asses would live over a decade after Admiral's initial disappearance.

That knowledge to can any cloning entirely, for believing they'd been forgotten, that such cherished memories deserved to rest.

"Ooof, big mistake thinkin' such love's taken for granted. Give the world to a dog or to any good sort, and they think the world of you. Anyway, moving on, don't s'pose ya got any other favourites?"

"Say, you wouldn't happen to have Walkin' on Sunshine, would you?"

Another call again: "Eddy Grant, Dolly Parton, Katrina and—"

"Katrina sounds good box thingy, again just as is. This time, don't spare the volume."

Doubts aplenty to divulge, but once the drums, cymbals and trumpet kicked in, once Katrina's voice reverbed off the walls, Admiral'd bound once more out of bed to clap, spin and snap again. Once that thing began belting out that chorus with aplomb, even to strain vocal cords, it was then that a certain magic would manifest.

Revival of enough memories, perhaps, to start shedding that obsidian skin, following groans similar to withdrawal. Given time, such events to reveal the original fastest man of the past, or his head at least.

"Good grief, sure gonna rest easy now…"

Though he could've done without that clap on the back, being sent flying off the bed, would figure that some progress was preferable to none.

"Oh geez, you alright? Just didn't believe I'd ever sing of sunshine again."

"Meh, been many orders worse, so don't worry," he'd dust himself off. "More importantly, are you? How's the man under the monster, how's his memories?"

"Best I've been in a while, but can't say the same for up here."

"Dammit, well, let's start small. What's your name?"

"Most folks call me Orange Joe. Well, used to before the villains you've known and felt."

"Don't think that'll help, but it'll have to do. Alright, how 'bout becoming this 'Admiral' fella? Heard of your stint in Earth's army, even the pilot duties, but that rank was reserved for commanding seamen last I—"

Caught that Captain in a fit of giggles; own grin to betray, if only for a brief pause.

"Now now, come on Joe, try and focus here. Ain't got the luxury of time."

"Sorry dude, just really needed to. Let's see, there's, ummm…"

Could've popped a vein trying to perceive any past, but ultimately gave up with a grunt.

"D'ohhh, how the hell can I be of help? Much as that monster ain't me, sure had a better memory."

"Wait a minute, wait a minute!" Bed to bed he'd pace, then a finger-snap. "Okay, don't panic, might have an idea… My creams for your memories, let's make a deal."

"We often don't deal, just take. In mine and Master's insight, minds comply much quicker when bodies get broken over and over."

"Hello, why else would I mention New Jersey? However brief both times were, you've got history, and hell, I could hold up my end too. Of course, take a detour or two, then—"

"I've always flown Master about though. Don't think he'd like me taking my own trips."

"Come on, he can't dedicate ALL his hours to being, well, him. Can't he give a task or two, take a little time for himself?"

"Y'know, as I carted him to the lounge, he did confide to wanting that. If I offer, do you think—"

"Whether serious or not, I'm sure he'd like your show of initiative. And frankly, I just wanna get this over with and go home."

"Alright, let's give it a shot. And please forgive what's to come next."

A wry grin to give as he'd indeed revert back, let rip a fist that'd break hands, a stomp to crush feet. Screams to raise the dead yet again—no chance to escape nor resist, not that he ever had one.

And unlike his stay in that splintered chair, was sure glad he didn't actually keep a swear jar.

Getting a careful carry over Admiral's shoulders, it'd be a blitz of metal paths, chambers, and glimpses of outside worlds before they'd enter what had to be a laboratory. Though blinding agony kept him from mapping it out, he nonetheless couldn't imagine Farnsworth's envy of that fantastical hub.

Nor could he imagine Zookeeper's wrath, to come face-to-face with him again.

"Where in my good name are you going? I thought my order was clear."

"Kid's given up their whole game, creams and all, and I'd warn him 'bout any funny business. Figure he's no longer any worth to us now."

"Is that so?" came the cross of arms. "Then I s'pose he'd better spill some beans; where are they?"

"You've nothing to fear, sir. Besides Tom here, nobody else moved outside state lines; I'll strip those suckers dry in moments. Up to them whether their word or life gives 'em up."

"I see, and Tom, what lesson have we learnt from our little party?"

"Several, but I'm gonna go with keeping heads down and noses clean. Can't expect mercy to piss you off, obviously."

"Now there's a good lad. Alright Admiral, carry on as you were. And about time you showed initiative for once."

From there all he knew was that a journey towards Earth was thankfully imminent; Admiral's personal spacecraft, their flick of the finger, and his lights to get busted out.

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A drizzle of liquid to be roused under starlit skies, upon familiar roads; believed he dreamt what was deserved, 'till broken bones started to flare again.

"Recognise this place, what'd happen?"

"Wish I didn't have to, but yes. Don't worry, you'll get yours."

"Not gonna happen. Now get this over with; don't want repeats now, do we?"

After a gigantic leap from road to balcony, as unbelievable now as the first time, it'd be a grimacing limp and fumbles with ceramic before he'd forfeit—with great difficulty—his miracle stash. At least, save for one final rub, having sold both master and guard a convincing deal.

"Y'know, I never did find this place remotely liveable… That said, think we could trade our lives, even for a day?"

"Promise to hold up your end, and I vow that'll come. Now, what memories do you have, what can you remember, about being here?"

"Not a lot, for not sticking around. Believe I'd be home hunting, taken along by green jacket and tall grey thing. As for why I had to go, been struggling to tell."

"Ahhh, figured this'd be a dud. Perhaps we can hit up HQ to have the time?"

With hops over the Hudson, and skips to second floors, it'd take just a glance and sit-down to really jump-start Admiral's memories.

"Hang on a sec, yes. Slept on this table, left messes all about, was a resource hog… Sure outstayed my welcome, as I do. Course, there's now only silence where I used to sit."

"Er, 'scuse me? What kinda stories were you being fed up there?"

"That to come back here was to return to nothing. Some great nephew he was, to sell all this up and waste away between whoever'd want him."

"Well drag me to Hell and call me damned, such ties WERE true? Anyway, for being so ancient, still trying to run things, he's quite the picture of health… Even to be real sick and twisted upstairs."

"Uh-huh… Alright, let's see, how 'bout our doctor a couple seats across? Times to get so tough, I heard they went down well with butter and lemon."

"Oh dear Gods, don't ever say that. I'd sooner find the gravesite and bury meself alive; no butter, lemon, nor any ingredient could ever salvage him."

Only a brief squint of eyes: "Right, and how's your bureaucrat these days? Rumour was they'd break some age-old obscure law, got placed on permanent paid vacation."

"Not even that would drive me to do government work again. Anyway, 'ol Mr. Conrad still holds court as Sheriff of Stampytown; can still limbo like a legend too."

"Yup, man's full of surprises. So, was it true that your lady in pink ran to Mom after an argument with Farnsworth, and vowed to bankrupt you all?"

"There've been those, to speak the truth, but would be doing a terrible job if she meant that. Lot more to the lass than meets the eye."

"Speakin' of eyes, how 'bout that special lady?"

"Oh, this oughta be good. What did Fatboy cook up for her tale?"

"Got told years ago that you'd build a robo-clone of her, just to taunt me with the times I could've had. Just made kickin' your twisted ass that much sweeter, I must say."

"Mate, besides being on ice back then, do I look like the kinda bloke who'd know how? And newsflash, I'm the guy giving up my life to help my murderer, NOT the guy who'd ruin Captains past and present just for trying to seek justice. A concept you can no longer strive for, I might add. So, who's the actual arsehole then?"

"Err, be okay to phone a friend on that?"

Head to not hesitate in hitting the roundtable: "Again, who said you had any?"

"On a tight leash as is, Tom. Doubt I'd ever make 'em; that's crazy, impossible talk right—"

"Crazy? Impossible? Fancy being told that, from the only guy older than I AM."

"And?"

"Deep down, you know as I do now that everyday life, and crazy impossibilities, are one and the same. I mean, dude, we've defied time ITSELF coming here. So save your breath, you want in or out?"

"Much as my mind fights it, my heart of hearts still aches for answers, if not for what I had."

"Correction, you have. Still, say I'd convince ya better to get a meeting going—only question is, how and where?"

"I've got an idea on where, actually, but you won't like the how."

"Ohhh great, lemme guess… Hospital and grievous bodily harm?"

"Are my methods really so predictable?"

"Well, it HAS worked wonders, I will admit. But haven't you done enough, for getting what you wanted?"

"Must've forgotten what Master made clear. And last time, you were lucky I left you together in the first place; most others I've 'dealt' with would've received much clearer messages by now… Talkin' piece by piece of loved ones, for starters."

"Jesus, and I'M the twisted one… Come on, there has to be—"

"The more you argue, the more I'll hurt you. Been away too long, and Master's gonna want answers, also blood. Now I won't say it again, hold still."

Weren't going to be any fond gatherings in the short term, but as he once again ate this carte blanche beating, he'd try clinging onto hopes that this'd lead to greater reunions down the line.