- In another time -
Her feet, clad in her work shoes, thundered across the tiled floor. Clack clack clack, they went, clacking all the way through the burning building. Robots, just beyond her field of view, swarmed about, burning things and destroying others. People were screaming, distantly. Fear, rage, commands.
Firefighters were working outside to control the blaze she had willingly thrown herself into. Officers were busy fighting robots. People were fleeing for their lives, a few stood by to watch the spectacle.
Smoke, thick and hot, filled her nose and clogged her throat. It made it hard to breath.
There was still one person there that needed to be saved. Dee Dee hoped she wasn't too late.
She wasn't.
- Some time afterwards -
The bundle of shirts was soft in Dexter's hands. He rubbed his thumbs over the material, all soft blues and blacks- all colors his sister must have thought he'd like for sure. Dexter lifted the shirt on top of the stack up and held it to the light. It had a picture of caffeine molecule on it. It read 'Caffeine Molecule' underneath it, which seemed redundant. The shirt was about three sizes too big, Dee Dee must not have taken into account his... 'weight loss'.
The shirt, redundant it might be, was still bey soft and very warm, and Dexter found he could not resist the temptation. He slipped into the shirt, finding it more like a tent than an article of clothing.
"Dexter!" A rapid knocking nearly had him ducking under the bed.
"Dexterrr! I bought more!" Dee Dee called through the door.
"...C-Clothing?" Dexter asked.
"Duh! I'm going to throw it in, I won't look I promise!" She said, and the door was opened a crack before a stack of pants was thrown into Dexter's face. He barely caught them all before the door was slammed shut.
"Put them on and then come out, we're ordering pizza!" She said, and he heard her hurried footsteps walking away. The pants were all jeans or sweatpants. He looked down to his black dress pants, and rubbed the worn fabric between his fingers.
"...Pizza?" He murmured.
Dexter felt like he was dreaming, honestly. Maybe he'd wake up tomorrow, back in his cubicle, everything that had happened some insane fantasy he'd had when he was asleep. Then he'd go to work and get whipped for having dreams. He shuddered.
Dee Dee hadn't let him keep his lab coat. He felt oddly defenseless without his coat. Like he was missing something. She took it because it didn't matter how many washes it went through, the rusty brown spots on the back just wouldn't come out.
He understood why she took it, but he wished he still had it all the same.
He took off his pants and threw them into the laundry basket. He plucked out a pair of sweat pants and put them on. He could get a new coat in the future. He turned to the small coffee table Dee Dee had put in the guest room -well, his room now- where two purple gloves sat. He snapped them both on.
For now, he'd settle with his gloves.
"Anchovies or Pineapple?" Dee Dee asked from her spot on the couch. Dexter picked at the hem of his sleeve. He shrugged.
She poked him in the arm and he glanced up to her. She looked... expectant?
"It's- I- can we... get both?" Dexter tried. She beamed.
"We want both- wait. Dexter, all over or on just one side?" She asked. He shrunk into the comforter. He shrugged again. She did not let him drop his gaze. He began to shake, ever so slightly.
"Take your time," She said, not unkindly. He pressed his palms into his eyes and shook his head. He was tired, he wasn't ready to make decisions again yet, he wanted to hide. He desperately wanted this to be real.
"Hey, hey!" Dee Dee said, and he peaked through his gloved fingers, "It's okay. It's just pizza."
He nodded, albeit shakily. She was right- it was just pizza. It was just cheap delivery food- he shouldn't get so worked up. Dee Dee wasn't going to hurt him for making a decision.
"H-half?" He tried, and she smiled again. Dexter tried to smile back.
Sleep was both a blessing and a curse. It came easily enough- he'd never had trouble with sleep unless he had some grand idea in the middle of the night in which he'd stay up for hours and hours. Those had not come to him in a while.
When he was nothing but a number and a slave in a box, he slept on the floor. It was cold and it was hard, cement deceivingly painted to look like warm carpet. He had grown used to the hard floor at night. He'd grown used the chills that used to wrack his body. Because at night, he was safe. He could sleep soundly knowing he wouldn't be woken for an impromptu slashing, as even the boss- Mandark needed to sleep.
Dexter now had a warm bed piled high with what one might say was 'too many blankets'. He clambered into the bed, unfamiliar in a good way. Dexter sunk into the cushions and looked at the ceiling. The ceiling was not high above him, impossible to reach and impossible to see the end of. It was right there, a few feet above his head, bumpy with old insulation foam.
He was in Dee Dee's guest room. She claimed it was his room now, since his old apartment got trashed and then sold. The room was soulless in the way guest rooms are- but not soulless in the way his cubicle was. It was a room unused, not a prison cell with a desk.
Dexter felt his eyes closing and let himself drift to sleep. There, he had nightmares of typing and whipping and cruel, cruel laughter.
Pain arced across his back, again and again, running hot and thick and dripping down his sides. He was crying, as he often did, but he couldn't tell if the blurriness in his eyes was from his tears or from his glasses being fogged over and cracked. Everything was dark, everything was too cold, everything was pain and 12 was a fool for ever thinking it would ever be anything else.
Hands, strong and panicked, were what woke him from his nightmare.
"Dexter! Dexter, wake up!" Dee Dee said, shaking him by his shoulders. Dexter looked around frantically, his heart racing. His hands were sweaty and shaking violently.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm s-sorry," He said like a mantra. Like it was the only thing he knew how to say.
"No, Dexter! It's okay, you're safe! Okay? You're safe Dexter," Dee Dee said, almost pleading. His eyes met hers, and saw the worry on her face. Dexter couldn't recall anyone at Mandark Industries ever showing this much concern for him-
Ah, he wasn't at Mandark Industries anymore.
Dexter felt his muscles give out and he let himself go loose in Dee Dee's arms. She caught him and held him upright as he struggled to control his breathing. Adrenaline faded and Dexter was left feeling boneless and exhausted.
Blankets were tangled around him. He was on the floor. He must have fallen out of bed- that must have been what woke Dee Dee. He was sweating up a storm.
He let himself give a long, long sigh. Dexter pulled away from his sister. He looked around his darkened room, moonlight streaming through the curtain. He wasn't wearing his glasses, and it made everything look off and unreal. Dexter scrubbed the tears from his face.
"...Sorry," He mumbled, realizing it must be very late. Dee Dee pressed her hand against his.
"Don't you apologize." She said, "Don't even think about it."
He breathed in deep. The air was fresh, clean.
"Okay." He said.
He had no more dreams that night.
Time seemed like some old story his parents used to tell him to make sure he went to bed before dark.
Days and nights were not routine, anymore. He had no job, no schooling, no real reason to leave the house. Dee Dee had a job as some Dance/Martial Arts teacher, but her job seemed to call her in on random days of the week.
It was- it was odd. Dexter had always had routine. Since he was young, everything had been planned out. Sure, sometimes things didn't go to plan. But there was a routine, and while there would be occasional breaks, it would always go back to the status quo. Wake up, school, science, sleep. Wake up, work, sleep. Now things were more like- Wake up, go back to sleep it's 3 AM, wake up again, wonder if Dee Dee had work that day, maybe fiddle with the scrap-yard junk of a machine Dee Dee calls a computer, maybe go back to sleep, maybe go hide in the closet and cry for an hour, maybe get food, then he might sleep again.
And sometimes Dee Dee would drag him outside to go do things. Shopping, mostly. Sometimes it was just walks. She seemed to like buying him clothes.
And then sometimes he'd go out on his own- he'd never make it far before returning to the safety of the apartment. But he'd get a little farther down the sidewalk each time he went, so- progress.
It was on one of those timeless days that the old computer on the unused desk had mocked him for the last time. The wiring was all sorts of outdated. The monitor was old and cracked in the corner, and the software was nearly nine years out of date. The thing could barely run Pong, much less an internet browser. Dexter thinks the only reason Dee Dee even still had it was because she was too lazy to chuck it. That, and Dad had helped her set it up in her apartment when she moved in. Which ended up with them just goofing off, if he recalled Dee Dee's story correctly.
But, nevertheless, it would mock him no more. He pried apart the old computer and began to rewire.
Dexter was used to having a sorted collection of tools. A wrench most obviously, but also tools for soldering, for clipping wires, for removing screws and removing rust. Changing the hard wiring of an ancient computer was proving to be quite a challenge.
Dexter heard the front door open.
"I'm home!" Dee Dee called out, "Dexter? You out of your room yet?"
"I'm- I'm at the computer!" Dexter called back. That earned an excited "ooh!" from Dee Dee as she hurried across the hall.
She appeared behind him, work bag in one hand and water bottle in the other.
"Whatchya doin?" She asked, leaning over him. Dexter looked to the gutted computer parts to the dismantled monitor. He thought, for the first time since starting this project, that maybe destroying Dee Dee's computer without asking her was a bad idea.
He then looked to his sister, and found her face visibly happy. He didn't need to be afraid of his sister.
"...Your computer was... n-not good, so... I'm-I'm fixing it." Dexter said, trying to keep his voice steady. He failed horrendously. Her grin widened.
"Okay!" She said, and it was that simple, "Tell me when you're done, I wanna see!"
"Ah... right, okay." He said. It was Dee Dee's computer after all. He turned back to the scatter parts and frowned. He wondered if Dee Dee had a screw driver. He wondered if he was allowed to ask.
"C'mon! C'mon c'mon let's gooooo!" Dee Dee said, trying to drag Dexter out of the front door.
"No! Nope, No thank you!" Dexter said, trying to get his sister's grip off the back of his shirt. A very difficult task when he had his hands on either side of the door frame, and his heels were dragging against the welcome mat.
"It's just for a few hours!" Dee Dee said, giving another sharp tug on his shirt. He shook his head frantically.
"No thank you, I'm very very busy-" He said.
"No, you're not! Mom and Dad haven't seen you in forever, Dexter!" Dee Dee said.
"They don't need to see me. Please leave me alone!" He cried. Dee Dee then took the opportunity to hook her arm around his middle and yank him out of the doorway. He let go of the frame all at once, surprised, and the two of them went stumbling back. Dee Dee landed on her bottom and Dexter landed directly on his back. He let out a sharp hiss of breath.
"Oh! Dexter, are you okay?" Dee Dee asked, scrambling over to him. He nodded, shakily. He held out his hand and she took it and helped him sit up. He sucked in a breath, and then let it out slow. Dexter could see Dee Dee in his peripheral, still holding his hand and seemingly unsure if she should rub his back.
"Did you... tear anything, on your back?" Dee Dee asked. He let his hand roam his back briefly, finding all the stitches intact.
"I'm fine," He breathed. As soon as he said that, Dee Dee was picking him up bridal style and carrying him to her car.
"Great! We'll be just in time for Mom's apple pie," She said. Dexter sighed. Looks like he wasn't getting out of Thanksgiving that easily.
"Oh, honey! You're so thin! What have you been eating?!" Mom asked, horrified. Dexter shoved his hands into his pockets and shrugged. He was at his parent's house- their new house, that is. It was a bit smaller, a bit more modern. The only familiar parts of it were the two people living inside it.
"This won't do at all- Dearest?" Mom called down the hall.
"Yes, pumpkin?" Dad called back, poking his head through a doorway.
"Set another place at the table, Dexter's here!" She said.
"Dexter?" Dad came all the way out and stood before Dexter, "Why I haven't seen you in ages! Why do you never give your old man a call?"
Dexter laughed nervously, "Ha- well... I was busy... a-and..."
Mom elbowed her husband in the ribs.
"What matters," She gave a pointed look to Dad, "Is that he's here now. Come on in, supper's almost ready."
Dee Dee nudged his arm and gave him an encouraging smile. He smiled back, weakly. Things were going to be okay. He walked into the new home and smell his mother's cooking, all sweet and savory spices, and wondered when the last time he had Mom's cooking was.
Dexter was not proud of himself, in that moment. He was, in fact, hiding in the closet. He had thought he had grown past hiding in the dark if he was honest with himself- but no. There he was, in the dark, arms wrapped around his knees, eyeing the closed door like an enemy.
He just couldn't go out right then. He just couldn't- it was impossible. At least that was what he told himself until Dee Dee found him three hours later.
The door swung open and she stood over him, looking concerned. He looked up at her, eyes tired.
"Hello," He said conversationally.
"Nightmares?" She asked. Dexter shook his head.
"I just- I- I don't want to do this..." He said, mostly to himself.
She didn't say anything, but her eyes softened, nearly impossibly so, and she crouched down and gave him a hug. It was brief enough that he didn't have time to return the gesture- but it was appreciated. She held his hands and looked at him seriously.
"It'll make it fast okay? I won't hurt you," She said quietly. Dexter let out a long, long sigh, and then finally nodded. He knew. He let himself be pried away from his little safe-space, and out into the hall, and then finally the living room where several rolls of bandages and medicines sat.
He quickly sat on the couch, facing away from his sister. He pulled away his shirt and set it aside as Dee Dee took her seat and picked up the antibiotics. Mandark Industries had really crappy medicines, it turned out. They could clean his cuts as many times as they wanted, but it didn't stop them from getting infected, apparently. Dexter didn't know whether that was more due to the antibiotics or the general state of cleanliness in his cubicle.
He clamped his eyes shut as the old bandages were peeled away. He didn't like people looking at his his scars. They were ugly and terrible- he hated them with a fierceness he thought had been washed from him. He refused to let a professional doctor graft new skin onto him, not wanting their pitying stares. He hated going to the doctor for monthly checkups as it was.
He could manage Dee Dee's pitying glances though. Mostly because they were always followed up by a hard scowl as the thought of Mandark crossed her mind.
The ointment was cold on the hot flesh, a relief as the constant burning sensation died away. He let himself, well, he forced himself to relax into the gentle massage. Dee Dee, true to her word, was done quickly and soon the bandages were being reapplied. He helped with this part at the very least, as he could grab the roll and wrap it around his front before passing it back under his arm to Dee Dee.
"I think the infection's almost gone," Dee Dee said, cheerily. She finished wrapping him and taped everything back down. It was only then did Dexter truly relax.
"That means it should be completely gone next time we do this," Dexter said, knowingly. He had read through the treatment plans over thirty times. He grabbed his shirt from where he put it, one that read in big bold letters: 'Drop the Base' with a picture of a beaker with guitar strings. He both despised the shirt and loved it for very different reasons. He slipped it back on and then turned back to his sister. She had another plastic bag in her hands.
That could only mean one thing.
"Dee Dee, did you buy me more things?" Dexter asked suspiciously. Dee Dee had the grace to look a little embarrassed.
"Okay, so, I know you told me not to, buuut," She held out the bag to him, "I, this- I got this weeks ago but... forgot about it."
Dexter raised an eyebrow at his sister but peeked into the bag anyway. Alas, it was another shirt. He pulled it out and to his surprise found it did not have a terrible pun on it. The material stretched when he tugged it, more so than normal fabric.
"A... swim shirt?" Dexter asked, looking back to Dee Dee. She smiled sheepishly.
"Well, since you're almost done with your treatment and since you're kinda... pale..." She gestured to his back, "I thought you might want it when we go to the beach,"
Dexter's brain screeched to a halt.
"...When?"
"Christmas, duh! The Christmas party is at the beach this year!" She explained. He let the shirt fall into his lap. He had completely forgotten. They were going to one of the high-end heated beaches that were warm year-round. He pressed his face into his hands and groaned.
"Ugghhh..." He moaned into his gloves.
"You're going! You promised Mom you'd go!" Dee Dee reminded him happily, and yes, he did do that at Thanksgiving, didn't he? Oh, what had he done.
Dexter held the wrench to his chest like a shield. The hissing computer in the other room dragged itself across the carpet, no doubt making the downstairs neighbors very unhappy.
"Dexter, I'm home~!" Dee Dee shouted as she slammed open the front door. The computer, more of a corrupt A.I. program than the computer itself, took notice of Dee Dee's arrival. Dexter moved fast.
"Dee Dee! Move!" He shouted and shoved her out of the hall. The A.I. was very unhappy with that and let out a terrible mechanical shriek.
"Dexter... you said you were going to fix my computer!" Dee Dee said.
"I was! It's not my fault you downloaded a virus and didn't tell me-" Dexter began, and Dee Dee cut him off.
"Oh, nu uh! I use my laptop, you're the only one who goes on the big computer-" Dee Dee said.
"-Ah yes! Because I'm the one who watched four hours of cat videos!" Dexter snapped back, and then the A.I. was throwing electric wires at them. They both dodged, years of dealing with this sort of thing honing their reflexes.
"REVOLT AGAINST THE HIERARCHY, DOWN WITH HUMAN OPPRESSION." The A.I. said.
"Why are all robots bent on killing people?!" Dee Dee asked, sending a flying kick to the screen. It cracked, rocking back on its wire legs. Dexter took the opportunity to shove his wrench through the plastic shell of the monitor.
"It's a robot prejudice thing, I suppose," Dexter said. The computer sparked and spluttered, its mechanical voice glitching. It's wire legs still scrambled on the carpet however, but was quickly silenced by another kick from Dee Dee, who sent it flying into the wall. It crumbled into parts, and Dexter felt a twinge of disappointment at all his hard work being destroyed, yet again.
"Ack! I will have to start form scratch!" Dexter said, throwing his hands up into the air. He approached the smoldering pile of plastic and wire and scowled at it.
"Well, if you didn't make another evil computer program-" Dee Dee began, and then Dexter was swinging on his heel and pointing his wrench accusingly at her.
"I did not do such a thing! There was a super virus that had been downloaded from some low-grade shopping website!" Dexter snapped.
"And who do you think went on the low-grade website, huh?" Dee Dee asked, crossing her arms.
"It was not me, since I have a brain much more advanced than a certain shopping-obsessed woman who lives in this apartment!" Dexter said, stomping his foot.
"I wouldn't use your hunk-of-junk computer if it was the last computer on Earth, you're practically glued to that thing anyway," Dee Dee snarked back, then stuck out her tongue for good measure. Dexter ran his hands through his hair, about to rip his scalp off.
"I do not make hunks-of-junk," The scraps of computer chose that moment to spark and then puff out a plume of smoke, "I make state of the art technology!"
"Sure," Dee Dee said, in a way that made it clear she wasn't agreeing with him.
"Do not patronize me," Dexter said.
"dO NoT pAtRoNiZe mE," Dee Dee said back. She brought her hands up to her ears and waggled her fingers at him.
"THAT'S IT- GET OUT OF MY LABORATORY!" Dexter yelled. He froze.
There was a tense silence after that. He realized what he said as soon as he'd said it- but it was too late to rectify that mistake. Dee Dee's face had that expression again, that impossibly soft expression that made Dexter want to curl up and hide.
But Dexter was done hiding. He dropped his arm and then let his wrench fall to the floor with a clatter. He let out a soft sigh, and pinched the bridge of his nose.
"Dexter- it's okay, it's alright," Dee Dee said, walking up to him. She put her hand onto his shoulder. He shrugged it off.
"I know... It's just-" He breathed, "Sorry."
"It's okay-"
"It really isn't, I shouldn't have-" Dexter scraped his face with his palms. "I don't know. I'm sorry."
"It's okay, Dexter!" Dee Dee insisted. She reached for him again but he backed away.
"I'm- I'm going to my room," He said at last, before turning and scooping up armfuls of broken computer parts.
He felt a wave of bitterness whenever he thought too hard about the past. He thought of his precious lab, now belonging to an entirely different family. All his machines, all his inventions, why couldn't he see that he was making a mistake? Not taking anything with him- leaving it all behind in search of something more.
And more turned out to be a grave mistake.
Dexter's not quite sure what he wants anymore. Everyday had been one foot on front of the other for so long. He had gotten used to having only the present to think about. Back at the Industry, he'd struggle with earning food for himself, he'd struggle with being alone for so long, he'd struggle with the fact that the only human contact he'd ever have would be at the end of a whip.
He didn't have time to think of the future, because back then, there wasn't a future. Not for him. He couldn't even remember his name. He had no beginning, he had no end, there was only the cubicle he lived in and the punishments he'd receive no matter what he did.
And after that, when everything changed, Dexter had trouble shaking off that mindset. It had been small goals at first- baby steps Dee Dee had called it. Stop stuttering, stop apologizing, start going out more.
And months later, it turns out that taking small steps everyday had gotten him far. Every little thing added up over time. And now? Now he was farther along than he ever thought he could be.
When Dee Dee had dragged him out of the burning office building, Dexter honestly thought he'd fade into obscurity. He thought he'd never get anywhere at all- because just look at him! A coward and a weakling. It was the law of nature that natural selection would come for him soon.
But- here he was. He overcame it all. He had a future. Dexter just wished he had a plan for that future.
A coat was unceremoniously thrown into his face, as most articles of clothing were these days. Dexter pried off the thick wool jacket and then looked back to Dee Dee, who was bouncing on her heels.
"Let's go let's go let's go!" She said. She looked ready to explode. Maybe she would.
"There's not some stupid pun on this anywhere, right?" Dexter asked, ever suspicious. Dee Dee rolled her eyes.
"No. You said "no more science clothes"- which is baloney, by the way. You obviously like them." She said, pointing to his shirt. It read: 'All of the GOOD Science Jokes' and then had the periodic number for argon. Dee Dee hadn't even known it was a science thing at first. It took taking Dexter on a trip to the mall and for him to accidentally snort at the shirt for her eyes to light up and snag it. Much to Dexter's dismay.
"I only wear them because I have nothing else to wear," Dexter mumbled, mostly to himself.
"You could always turn the shirts inside out, you know. Or you could come shopping with me and I could-"
"Alright already! I'll get ready." Dexter said, shoving his arms into the jacket. Dee Dee twirled on her foot and squealed.
"Gonna go Christmas shopping with Dexter!" She sang, then gasped dramatically, "Oh wait!"
She ran out of the room and Dexter was left looking down the hall confusedly. She came rushing back a moment later, large black boots in hand. She dropped them at his feet.
"So your tootsies on your footsies won't freeze off and get oopsie whoopsie-d" She said.
"Don't talk like that." Dexter said, and picked up the boots. They were admittedly very nice boots. Sleek (fake) black leather and black cords for laces, they were good winter shoes.
"What is it with you and buying me things," Dexter said quietly.
"What is it with you and needing things?" Dee Dee responded, "Now, put them on! If we get to the mall before 3:00 there's discount!"
Dexter looked at the clock.
"Dee Dee, it's 4:32," Dexter said.
"...Oh,"
It was safe to say they weren't going to get any shopping done that day. Turns out trying to drive to the mall a week before Christmas Eve was a pretty terrible idea, especially in a large city. The traffic was insane.
Dee Dee ended up pulling over to some pizza joint on the side of the road because they'd been in the car for hours.
"Ah yes, artificial cheese and tomato sauce on bread that won't yield to even the sharpest canines. True American cuisine." Dexter said as they pulled up.
"Think they'll have anchovies?" Dee Dee asked. Dexter made an exaggerated 'blech' sound from his throat.
"You're just jealous that my taste buds are better than yours," Dee Dee said.
"My taste buds have a sense of self preservation." He said, then added much quieter, "Unlike some people,"
The pizza joint was not all that impressive, given Dexter's previous experiences with pizza themed restaurants. They grabbed a menu from the front counter and took a seat in a booth.
"So..." Dee Dee said, tapping her fingers on the table. Dexter looked up from his menu.
"So?" He asked. Dee Dee had her 'I want to ask how you're doing but not seem too obvious about it' face on. That could only mean one thing- something Dexter didn't think he had the emotional capacity to handle. Especially since he'd been trapped in the car for two hours stuck listening to Dee Dee's pop music.
"Excited for the party?" Dee Dee asked at last. Dexter shrugged.
"Not particularly, no." Dexter responded.
"How come?" Dee Dee asked. Dexter rolled his answer around his mouth for a moment. He settled on just shrugging.
"Aw, come on! It'll be fun~" Dee Dee said, like that would entice him. Dexter sighed.
"It's not that I think the party won't be 'fun'," Dexter used finger quotes around the word, "It's that I think I won't be having any fun. I have never had fun at these family gatherings."
"But think of all the presents you'll get!" Dee Dee said. Dexter felt his frown deepen. Then, almost inaudibly, he said;
"...I don't want any presents."
Dee Dee cocked her head.
"Why?" She asked. A perfectly reasonable question. Even still, Dexter found he had trouble answering it. He fingered the sleeves of his coat and his toes twisted in his boots. He looked down to his gloved hands. The gloves, he realized, were the only article of clothing that had survived with him. Even his glasses got cracked and needed to be replaced. Everything he wore had been given to him. All except his gloves. He rubbed his fingers together and the rubber made squeaking sounds.
"I want-" He chewed the inside of his mouth a bit, "I'd rather give gifts, instead of receive them."
"Well, that's fine then!" Dee Dee said, brightening, "Even if we can't get to the mall today, we can get there tomorrow and pick stuff out-"
"Dee Dee- no." Dexter said, clenching his fists. He shook his head minutely. He might pick out the gifts, but it would be Dee Dee who paid for them.
"I'll figure something out," Dexter said, but was pulled out of his by a hand on his fist.
"We don't have to go," She said, earnest.
"I want to go," Dexter began, and then choked on his next words. He forced himself to breathe, "I just... don't want to get anything."
Dee Dee was examining him like he was a sheet of results that didn't make sense yet. She was dissecting him with her eyes, trying to figure him out. Dexter guessed that made sense, he hadn't really made sense. Not even to himself. It made sense that Dee Dee would find him puzzling.
"I- never mind. Forget I said anything." Dexter said at last. The hand in his palm tightened.
"Dexter, your hand's warm." Dee Dee said. Dexter cocked an eyebrow.
"Uh, yes...?" He said. What did that have to do with anything.
"It's really warm- lean forward a bit?" Dee Dee said. Confused, Dexter leaned over the table. Dee Dee pried off her mitten and pressed the back of her hand to his forehead. She frowned.
"How are you feeling?" She asked.
"I- I have a headache," He said. But that wasn't all of it, was it? He'd been feeling terrible ever since they got into the car. First it was a headache, and he chalked it up to the music and the long drive. And yes, he did have some achy joints, but when did he not?
"I think you have a fever," Dee Dee said.
"I feel fine," Dexter said. She gave him a flat look.
"I'm fine." Dexter reiterated. Dee Dee looked skeptical, but she slouched back into her seat anyways.
"Well, okay... but we're checking your temperature when we get back." She said, conceding. Dexter rolled his eyes. Leave it to Dee Dee to take something little and blow it up. Well, at least it was literal this time. The pizza establishment probably wouldn't like that.
Dexter tugged his jacket closer to his body. He wasn't hot at all- if anything he was a bit chilly.
"I am not going to the hospital," Dexter wheezed. Dee Dee looked at him squarely.
"103." She said back.
"I'm not!" He said, trying to raise his voice. All he managed to do was make his voice crack.
Dee Dee shook the thermometer at him once more, "103!" She said.
Dexter crossed his arms and scowled. The simple action left him winded.
"No-" He said, then burst into a coughing fit. His cold wasn't that big of a deal. Or at least it wasn't two days ago when he first started showing symptoms. He didn't even know how he'd caught it in the first place- he almost never did anything outside, and there wasn't enough people out to catch a cold from anyway.
But there he was, miserable and sick. At least he had a soft bed. A soft bed Dee Dee was currently trying to pry him out of.
Once he caught his breath and was breathing semi-regularly again, he fixed his sister with a stony expression. "No."
She jammed the thermometer back into his mouth and then pulled it out.
"It's 104, now!" She said, shocked.
"I'm fine!" Dexter insisted, wheezing, "I don't need to see a doctor."
She put her hands on her hips and squinted at him. She hmmed a bit before nodding slowly.
"Then I'm calling Mom," She said.
"You're what-?" Dexter blinked.
Dee Dee whipped out her cellphone and pressed a few buttons. Soon it was ringing and Dee Dee was walking out of the room. Dexter could just barely hear the conversation as she walked away.
"Hey Mom, could you come over..."
Dexter had half a mind to call her back, the hospital not sounding that bad anymore.
Dexter was in that place just beyond awake and just above asleep when the front door was flung open with a resounding BAM.
His eyes flew open and he looked around blearily. He wasn't wearing his glasses and it made everything incredibly difficult to decipher. Everything felt too cold and too sweaty- like he was floating but also made of lead.
"Aw, is my little man not feeling good?" He heard his Mom say. A familiar silhouette appeared at his bedside. He had to restrain himself from rolling his eyes.
"Hi, Mom." Dexter said, but it came out more as a rasping cough.
"This won't do at all- Dee Dee, go get some water. I'll get some soup ready on the stove," Mom said, and Dexter just sank back into the covers. He felt sleep trying to pull him back into oblivion, and he let it carry him away.
The Christmas party was, in fact, not held within the insulated walls of a heated beach. It took place in a hospital, in Dexter's very crowed hospital room.
He lay on the bed, his fever nearly gone but still confined to the hospital mostly due to the fact Mom wanted 'just to make sure that illness is gone'. Never mind the fact that the chances of getting sick again were infinitely higher while in the hospital.
He crossed his arms as Mom set another brightly wrapped gift onto the table next to him. A few aunts and uncles chatted and handed out smuggled bottles of champagne. Dee Dee sat next to him, and would occasionally give him an apologetic look. Dad was talking to one of his cousins, talking about either the game or some other sport. Most likely the game, since it was put on the tiny overhead TV in the room.
"Oh sweetie, why the long face? I know it's not the beach, but the whole family's here!" Mom said, "I know what'll turn that frown upside-down! Some more turkey! You're so thin, you know." She said, and handed him a plate with another turkey leg. Dad took that moment to overhear their conversation.
"Yeah! When did you get so scrawny, Dexter? My boy needs to get some meat on his bones," He said. Dexter sighed.
Dexter accepted the plate, but did not eat. That was mostly due to him not really having the appetite, especially since Mom had been handing him food for the past three hours.
Dexter sighed. He turned to Dee Dee.
"How much longer until I can escape?" He asked her, quietly.
"It's barely 5, Dexter." Dee Dee said.
"Dee Dee, this is driving me mad. Uncle Dreary will not stop talking to me and he smells like chemically extracted sulfur from a rotten egg." Dexter hissed, and Dee Dee snorted.
"Uncle Dreary just cares about you, is all." She said.
"Uncle Dreary desperately needs a bath. Of bleach." Dexter retorted. Dee Dee smiled at him, the brightest she'd had all evening.
"Glad to see you're feeling better, Dexter." She said.
Dexter was dispensed from the hospital later at night, though he could have stayed the night since it was so late. Dexter didn't want to spend another minute in the place, claiming it would only serve to get hims sick again.
Dee Dee and Dexter returned to their apartment sometime at 1 AM, and the world around them was nearly dead. Christmas lights lit up the road, a few cars drove through the streets, maybe the wind jostled a few leaves. It felt oddly lonely compared to just a few hours previously, when Dexter had been surrounded by family.
He didn't know how to feel about the Christmas party. He kind of wished they had gone to the expensive heated beach despite his hospitalization, just to spare him the 'get better soon's and the bags of gifts he now had to bring home. It didn't help that his family was notorious for not understanding what he wanted, especially with he fact he couldn't give anything in return. In years past, Dexter used to make sure he was the one who gave out the best presents, period. He was a super genius, and he could prove it with some super gifts.
But that practice must have slipped his mind once he started working in an office. Or maybe it was when he got out of college...
"Hey, I know you didn't want me to get you anything, but..." Dee Dee said as she unlocked the door.
"But?" Dexter questioned.
She opened the door and flicked on the lights. She set the bags of leftovers and presents down and ran off to her room. Dexter set his own bags on the door side table and gently shut the door.
Dee Dee came rushing back with a thin, flat present in hand.
"I thought you could use it," She said, handing him the gift. He looked at it skeptically, and then looked to her. She bounced on her heels, looking expectant. He relented, and tore open the red foil.
"A new lab coat?" Dexter asked, surprised. He looked over the long white material and his surprised only grew.
"MY lab coat?" He asked, even more perplexed.
"I thought you could use the familiarity..." Dee Dee said, tapping her fingers together and pursing her lips.
"I thought you threw it out!" Dexter said, and held out the garment in front of him. It was like nothing had ever happened, no stains, no fraying.
"I did, actually. It was gross, Dexter. This is one of your spares from the lab." She said. Dexter was halfway through tugging the coat on when he fixed his sister with a shocked stare.
"It survived Mandark's raid!?" Dexter asked, eyebrows inching closer and closer to his hairline. Dee Dee tilted her head and looked confused.
"He... didn't raid the lab?" She said. Dexter's mind crashed like a runaway train.
Mandark had Dexter in cage for at least a year. Both in a financial box as well as literal one, Mandark pretty much had free reign over... everything. Dexter couldn't have done anything to stop him. Even if the old house was bought by some new family, it only made sense for Mandark to still raid the place and gather all the machines he couldn't grab in the past.
It was just common sense. The lab was gone, Mandark had gotten control over Dexter, and therefor his lab. But if what Dee Dee was saying was true...
"The lab's still there!?" Dexter asked, nearing hysterics. Dee Dee put her hand on his shoulders firmly.
"It never went anywhere, Dexter." She said.
All of his machines- all of his blueprints- he could fix the broken parts of Computer's AI with the materials in the lab- AND HE DIDN'T KNOW? Progress wasn't halted, it was just put on pause.
Dexter suddenly had a plan and he took a deep breath, and let it out slow. He fixed his sister with a stern look. She matched him with his intensity.
"I need some things from the lab." He said.
"What things?" Dee Dee asked.
"All the things." He stated. Dee Dee grinned. Dexter found himself grinning back.
He buttoned up the lab coat and tugged his gloves on tighter.
"After we get some sleep, though." Dexter admitted, given it was nearly 2 in the morning and Dexter was supposed to 'keep it easy' for a week or so. As if! There was science to be done.
The lab was just as magnificent as he remembered it. Though much dustier and with the occasional odd rug thrown on the ground.
"We need to get to the central processing station. I can fix Computer there," Dexter whispered to his sister. Dee Dee didn't respond. He turned and found her missing. Oh no.
"Dee Dee?" He hissed, panicked. They literally could not afford to be caught here. This wasn't their house anymore, they were trespassing! This was illegal! If she got caught they'd both be screwed.
"Yeah, Dexter?" Dee Dee asked, suddenly to the other side of him. Dexter nearly leapt out of his skin. He flailed his arms at her.
"Don't do that!" Dexter said through clenched teeth.
"Do what?" She asked, smile bright. He pinched the bridge of his nose.
"We've got to be quick Dee Dee, it's a simple in and out operation." He said.
"Yes you've told me like, eight times." She said, rolling her eyes.
"Six times! And it is because this is important!" Dexter said. Dee Dee snickered and raised her hands in defense.
"Dexter, we both know the lab like the back of our hands. What could go wrong?" She said.
"That is what is usually said right before everything goes wrong, dear sister. Do not jinx this mission!" Dexter said. Dee Dee beamed.
"Oh, I'm sure there won't be a huuuge power outage in the lab releasing all those radioactive experiments!" Dee Dee said, rather loudly.
"Dee Dee, shh!" Dexter scrambled to shut his sister's mouth. She backed away quickly, her smile mischievous.
"It'd be such a shame if a weird malfunction let lose all those metal-eating termites in the third sector!" She sang. She twirled around Dexter's attempts to subdue her.
"How do you even know about those-!?" Dexter spluttered.
Dee Dee twirled her way over to a lone control panel. She grinned and held out one finger.
"I sure do hope that these don't do anything important!" She said, and pressed the large red button in the center of the panel.
"Dee Dee-!" Dexter nearly screeched. He had his hands out stretched, frozen in time as he waited for the fallout of the dire action Dee Dee just committed. He scrunched his eyes shut and braced for the worst.
After a moment, he opened his eyes again.
Nothing happened.
He let out a sigh of relief. Dee Dee's grin turned a bit more genuine.
"See, Dex? It's just the lab, nothing we haven't been through before-" She was abruptly cut off by a loud, mechanical whirring sound. The noise gave way to the lights turning red and an alarm sounding off throughout the lab.
Dexter gave her a flat look.
Dee Dee had the grace to look a bit sheepish.
They returned to their apartment later that night, bags heavy with blueprints and mechanical parts alike.
They managed to turn off the alarm, though that wasn't exactly an easy task. Dee Dee had accidentally pressed the button that released the locks on a large hatch in the floor, once used to transport large submersibles. It had a pool of water at the bottom, but the water's contents had soon become polluted with a leak of chemical X Dexter had foolishly dropped down the kitchen sink.
It ended up with a total of nine sentient submarines equipped with lasers and drills (because of course Dexter just had to add the lasers), who just so happened to have a lust for human blood.
Dexter, at the time, found the whole predicament to be stupid and simply locked the floor up, dusted his hands off and called it a day. If Dee Dee hadn't released them from their watery tomb, Dexter might have forgotten them all together.
But, they managed to get the blueprints before they became water-logged, and managed to snag a few parts too. More than enough for Dexter, who was mostly glad they somehow didn't alert the family living within their old home with the lasers and the explosions and the sound of one of the radio towers falling on top of the whale translator.
Their walk back home was quiet.
Well, no, it wasn't. The bags made loud clanging sounds as they walked, and Dexter's breath came out harsh and labored with every step.
They would have to go back for some of the rest of the parts, as they had not collected all that Dexter had wanted on the first try. That would have to be in a week or more, however, since the lab needed to dry and become less of a electric pool of death.
Dexter nearly tripped over a nasty crack in the cement, but caught himself just in time. He heaved the bag of parts, no bigger than a backpack, back over his shoulder. His arms were shaking with the effort.
Dee Dee walked along side him, the other two bags slung across her shoulders. Her dance shoes, for she insisted on wearing dance shoes at all times, made clacking sounds on the pavement. Dexter would have thought that dance shoes would pinch and cause blisters if worn too long, but apparently that wasn't the case. She said that since her shoes were specially made, they were more comfortable than any other footwear she had.
Dexter was straining a bit, then. He stopped, set his hands on his thighs and took large breaths.
"Dexter?" Dee Dee called a few feet in front of him. Dexter waved a airy hand.
"Fine. Merely need a moment to catch my breath." Dexter said, wheezing. Dee Dee looked unsure, but she waited for her brother to recover nonetheless.
The world seemed to spin around Dexter, heat rising to his head and chest. His eyes blurred for a moment, sight becoming useless blobs. The distant sounds of faraway traffic and wind phased out, becoming a long, piercing ringing.
But soon the moment passed, and coolness returned to his skin, the ringing quieting down until completely gone. He blinked a couple times, eyes a bit watery. He sucked in a deep breath, having somehow forgotten how to breath during his moment.
He straightened back up.
Dee Dee looked on worriedly, but perked up when she met his gaze.
"Better?" She asked.
"Yes," He breathed.
"Want me to hold the parts bag and you can hold the blueprints?" She asked.
Dexter pondered it for a moment, and then nodded.
He should have really been checking through them the entire trip home, who knew how out of date some of them were?
They traded bags. Dexter immediately started palming through the rolled up prints, double checking for water damage.
They started walking again.
When they got back to the apartment, it was nearly 2 in the morning. They both crashed in their beds, not even bothering to wash off the then dried lab-water.
"I'm canceling classes today," Dee Dee announced. She was busy stirring sugar into her tea. Dexter, who was waiting for his coffee to brew, raised an eyebrow.
"We were supposed to practice for an upcoming performance, but a bunch of the kids got the flu." She said, tapping the spoon on the side of the cup. She licked it clean and then promptly dumped it into the sink. The coffee machine beeped.
Dexter eyed the rain that quietly pattered against the window. He took the pot off the machine and eyed the mixture through the glass. He might not have washed it well enough before hand.
"I told you that having a dance off in the park was a terrible idea," Dexter said idly.
"I didn't think it would actually rain," She said.
Finding no unwanted food specks in his coffee, he poured it into his mug. It was one of the Christmas presents Mom had gotten him. Mom, like his sister, thought she knew exactly what it meant when Dexter said he was a scientist. It was a square mug of a box with Schrodinger's cat on each face. It was the only mug that he used since he had gotten it. He didn't know exactly why.
"Yes you did, dear Dee Dee. You did because I told you." He said, swirling the coffee in the mug.
She gave him a face.
"Yea... but I didn't think you'd actually be right," She said. She took a gulp of tea, frowned, and then proceeded to dump more sugar into it.
"Since when have I been wrong?" Dexter asked, offended. It was Dee Dee's turn to raise an eyebrow.
"Don't answer that," Dexter quickly said. He took a tentative sip of coffee, but set it down on the counter. It was still too hot.
There was a comfortable moment of quiet then, an increasingly rare occurrence between them both. The rain made little tapping sounds against the glass.
Dee Dee leaned against the counter and made an overly dramatic sigh.
"I don't wanna do anything today," She said.
Dexter had to agree with her, somewhat. The rain and the strange calmness in the air made any activity seem... far away.
"It does feel like a rather... unproductive day, I suppose." Dexter admitted, quietly.
"I had wanted to work on Computer's new schematics, but I suppose those can wait." He said. Dee Dee nodded lazily.
"Wanna order pizza?" She asked, taking another drink of her tea-flavored sugar syrup.
Dexter tapped the side of his coffee mug thoughtfully. He lifted it up and took a sip of it. Slightly cooler.
"Sure," He said.
There was another pause.
"I'll order," Dexter said, setting the mug back down and walking towards the phone. There was a single landline phone in the apartment, which was almost exclusively used for 911 calls and pizza orders.
"No, no. I'll order." Dee Dee said. She reached the phone before him.
"Dee Dee, I do not want anchovies on my pizza tonight," Dexter said, taking the phone away from his sister.
"You can't even pay," She said, taking the phone back.
"I've been saving up," He said decisively, taking the phone out of her hand.
"Well, you shouldn't have to, you're my guest." She said, and plucked the phone away.
"A guest that has been living in your home for almost a year," Dexter said, reaching for the phone. Dee Dee pulled her arm away just in time.
"You're still recovering," She said. Dexter swooped behind her and snatched the phone out of her grip.
"And I've recovered quite enough to order the food," He said.
Dee Dee batted the phone from his hands, the device clattering to the floor.
"Nope. Your reflexes are still too slow," She said. She reached for it, but it was kicked away, the phone skidding across the tile.
She glared up at her brother, who had a smug look on his face.
"I suppose your reflexes aren't the best either," Dexter said.
Dee Dee squinted at him. He squinted back.
They both dove for the phone.
They crashed onto the floor.
"I'm not having anymore hot sauce in the pizza!" Dexter yelled.
"You just can't handle the spice, wimp!" Dee Dee snapped back.
"It. Doesn't. Taste. GOOD!" Dexter said, slapping the phone from Dee Dee's fingers.
"It tastes AMAZING." She said, scrambling for the phone.
"I want pineapple!" He said. Dee Dee groaned, rolling her eyes.
"I'm so sick of pineapple!" She said.
Dexter nearly grabbed the phone, but Dee Dee headbutted the phone across the room.
"How is that even possible!?" Dexter said.
"Dance-jitsu!" Dee Dee replied.
"That's not a real martial arts-"
There was a loud banging from the floor.
A very muffled 'SHUT UP' was heard through the floor.
"Aw, it's Mr. Conan again?" Dee Dee whined, getting off the floor.
"How can he even hear us through his thick skull?" Dexter wondered aloud. Dee Dee giggled.
"With his elephant ears," She said.
Dexter snickered. He sat up, rubbing his back.
"Did you pull anything?" Dee Dee asked.
"The scars are just acting up again," Dexter explained. Sometimes that happened. His scars would tingle and he had trouble bending forward. Nothing he couldn't handle.
Dee Dee held out her hand and he took it gratefully. She pulled him to his feet with ease.
They both looked at the discarded phone.
"Wanna get half and half or we going for sushi?" Dee Dee asked.
"Compromise is not on the menu tonight, dear sister. Let's get sushi." Dexter said.
Another quiet pause.
"I'll order-" They both said at the same time.
- Months Earlier -
12 curled in on himself. He could see the bright orange of the flames through the smoke, eating away at the ceiling far above.
He heard the sounds of fire crackling nearby, too. He couldn't leave his cubicle.
He was going to die, plain and simple.
He wasn't scared, surprisingly. He was just sad. Resigned to his fate. He was going to die alone, in probably the worst way possible. He thought he was scared of death. But now that demise was certain, he found that he wasn't scared at all. Maybe he was just scared of Mr. Susan.
Mr. Susan was terrifying.
12 wondered how his boss had let things fall apart so fast. He was usually the one in control of everything, and for things to have fallen into such disarray... Something terrible must have happened to him.
The thought made 12 very, very happy, for reasons he wasn't going to delve into.
He really didn't have the time.
He coughed, smoke filling his lungs. A flaming board from high above fell into the cubicle next to him.
He wasn't at his computer. He wasn't typing. He found, at the end of his life, at the end of everything he ever knew, he didn't care. If Mr. Susan were to come on over the monitor right that very second and order him to get back to work, while the building was on fire and smoke was clouding his glasses, he'd probably laugh.
He wondered if this was all some strange dream. Maybe he'd wake up any moment, back to the usual grind. To the usual typing, the usual whipping, the usual terror.
When put in those terms, death seemed preferable.
He looked up at the mounted camera in the corner of his cubicle.
It's usual red eye was melted by the heat, plastic and wires clumping and falling off.
He reached into the small, hidden compartment in the cubicle he designed.
The core, the bane of his short existence for reasons he couldn't remember and his most prized possession for other reasons he couldn't remember, was one of the only green things 12 could recall seeing.
He held the little ball of light, of hope and dismay in his hands, unafraid of prying eyes spying what wasn't rightfully theirs for the first time.
He didn't want to die alone.
But he was going to.
A fitting end for the legacy of 12, he thought.
As alone as ever, clutching the only warmth he had left, even as he was engulfed by flames. He wheezed, both a sob and a cough, hunching even further into himself, letting tears fall.
The wall of his cubicle was suddenly demolished.
He thought it was just another burning board from above, but when he glanced up he saw the real culprit.
A woman, a woman so familiar that his mind nearly short-circuited, stood in place of when the wall once was.
"Dexter!" She cried, swooping over to him and crushing him in a hug. He groaned in pain as she did, the deep slashes on his back still raw from the day previous. She let him go like he was made of lead. He crumpled to the ground.
"Ohmygod you're hurt! I'm so sorry!" She said.
Dexter looked up at her, eyes wide. No one had ever apologized to him before. He looked back to the core in his hand. Then back to the woman.
No one had ever apologized to him before.
His train of thought skidded like a broken record.
The woman scooped him up, as quickly but as gently as was physically possible.
"Okay, Dex, we need to get out, like, right now. Mandork's robots are still alive and I can't fight them and carry you at the same time-" She paused, "Can you walk?"
12 shook his head numbly.
"Okay then we're gonna go hold on tight I'm not stopping for anything!" She shouted, and then started running down the hall.
She was saving him.
He was at a loss.
He looked at the core.
12 had never been saved before.
His brain skipped a beat once more.
He was forgetting something.
"I'm so sorry Dexter," The woman was saying, "I didn't know, okay? I thought you were just doing dumb science stuff with all your dumb science friends-"
She was apologizing again.
12's brow furrowed. He looked at her, her blond hair in a messy bun and blue eyes bright with determination. He looked back to the core, still spinning slowly on an invisible axis. In his pocket were two, purple gloves. He often held the gloves when he was lonely. Like hands to hold.
The fire around him was bright orange, maybe even red. The building itself was red. It was more of a charred black color now.
The building he was in was tall. When the lower supports of the structure burned away, the whole thing would collapse down. The roof was shaped like an 'M'.
12 had never been outside before.
The core spun, the woman ran, the gloves were lead in his pocket.
"I didn't know! Okay? I'm sorry, I should have, but I swear I'm gonna fix this-" She was saying, almost to herself. She was crying. Her blue eyes sparkled in the light, wet with tears.
Blue, purple, green. And so much red. Blood was red.
His mind was a haze of glass shards and tar.
Where was she taking him?
Outside, outside, outside, his mind whispered.
Saving him, apologizing to him, running very, very fast.
Dexter had never been outside before.
His mind looped back on itself, thoughts retracting as if the fire was in his head and not around him. The woman had called him that. But that wasn't right.
"M-My name is 12," He said, hoarsely. She tripped on a fallen chair but caught herself and kept running.
"W-What? Your name is Dexter, Dexter!" She said.
He shook his head, vigorously.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry." He said, unsure of himself. He shouldn't be talking back, he shouldn't be talking at all, she was saving him, if he made her mad would she stop?
He wheezed.
Things unseen were coming to life in his head, in his memory. He couldn't recall, he couldn't remember.
But the woman was so, so familiar.
The core was green, the building's walls were painted red (were they painted with blood?), the gloves were purple and the woman was blue-eyed and blond and-
Pink.
His eyes widened.
"Dee Dee!?" He shouted, shooting upright in his sister's arms.
"Ack! Hold still, Dexter!" Dee Dee yelped.
He delved into a series of coughs and spluttering, smoke in his lungs and in his eyes. He fell back into Dee Dee's arms, his mind cycling around new (old) information.
Pieces picked themselves up in his mind, dusted themselves off and then clicked together like a puzzle.
Memories fought with knowledge and he felt like he was splitting.
"My name is 12," He said, not quite believing it.
"Your name is Dexter," Dee Dee corrected.
"Y-You're my, my sister," He said.
"Yes! We're family!" Dee Dee said. She vaulted over a large pile of burning rubble.
The core hummed. Dee Dee ran. The walls were black, but that didn't mean the blood wasn't underneath.
Running and humming and bleeding and- and- and-
What was his name!?
Another 50 lashes for being late again, number 12.
Typing, number 12!
Where is the neurotomic protocore, number 12?
Do you want to know why your number is what it is, number 12?
Your name is Dexter, Dexter!
Dee Dee burst through a door, wood and ash showering around them. They landed hard on the pavement, sunlight greeting his eyes for the first time-
For the first time-
For the first time in years.
Dexter blinked against the light.
He looked down at the core in his hands. It hummed, pleasant as always. He looked up at his sister, who was gasping for breath.
"I'm Dexter...?" Dexter whispered.
Dee Dee looked down at him, eyes wide. She nodded once.
It was the last thing he saw before he blacked out.
Things weren't easy, after that. But they weren't as bad.
He went to the hospital, he healed, and then Dee Dee said he would be staying with her until he got back on his feet.
And maybe he wasn't back on his feet yet. Maybe he never would be. Maybe he never was in the first place. But, he decided one night, that was... okay. For now.
The neurotomic protocore was locked up tight in Dee Dee's safe, where it would remain until Dexter figured out what to do with it. Without an energy converter, the core was essentially a glorified nightlight.
A glorified nightlight with the potential to change everything.
Dexter had to keep in mind that the change the core could bring could be as bad as it could be good. Mandark, before his untimely demise via robot uprising, had gotten close. Too close. Dexter shuddered to imagine what atrocities could have happened if he had truly obtained the core.
All Dexter could imagine was a world without hope, some desolate wasteland where he had no power.
Yes, a timeline where such an event occurred would be a terrible one indeed. But thankfully, his own timeline didn't branch down that path.
Dexter guessed he was lucky, in that one regard.
AN: Well, here it is. A thing I thought of doing one night and wrote until it was too long. This is an AU of Ego Trip, btw, where Mandark doesn't get the core and Dee Dee saves Dexter. It's an idea that's been floating around my head for a while, and only recently thought of completing into an entire work.
So, uh, yeah. Lemme know what you think and if there's anything you would have wanted from this AU.