Getting escorted outside of the 'combat zone' turned out to be fairly tricky!

The ongoing conflict in the background kept tossing debris and buildings and streets and massive rocks the size of houses all over the place, some simply from being kicked by accident as the two huge fighters jockeyed for better positioning.

It made finding an escape route for the robotic team complicated, and John found them having to change directions multiple times as damage became too severe for the exit they were aiming for, which procedures then mandated them being locked down and unusable for the group.

This was clearly making the nice robot leader VERY nervous, and he had some of his team constantly calling into their base, trying to get updates about where the 'Zords' (The big robot was apparently made of other still-big-but-not-nearly-as-big robots) were directing the huge lobster and updated predictions about any more obstacles that may come up and…

Well?

In the end, they DID get to see the massive lobster get stabbed to death!

Sort of.

At that point the final strike occurred pretty far away from John, so it was mostly two distant shapes wiggling next to each other and the actual finishing sword slash was more assumed than easily viewed.

But the following MASSIVE explosion made it pretty clear that the battle was over!

So cool!

Also, the robots had seemed pretty damn horrified as the shockwave was incoming, attempting to shield John from the massive waves of heat and energy materials and that ALSO made it a bit tricky to see everything going on.

Thankfully, like he said, it was a HUGE explosion! So there was PLENTY to see even if there were people throwing their metallic bodies in the way to defend him!

Anyway, it was pretty cool of the dudes (Dudettes?) to attempt to protect him from the incoming impact, so John would probably share some candy or something with them later. Depending on what sort of candy robots enjoyed here… Maybe different coatings and finishings on metallic scrap would taste better than others?

He'd have to ask later, after these guys got fixed up and repaired.

Luckily, the incoming wave of damage didn't actually kill any of them from what John could tell… It hadn't done much other than melting their bodies a bit.

And of course HE was fine. Didn't even need to swap out for a replacement Body!

After all, John's bioengineered flesh was DESIGNED to withstand odd energies and impossible environments.

The Borgs did NOT develop low quality products, after all. And John's Soul itself was strong enough to resist a good chunk of the incoming esoteric and magic contamination, which was good.

So even though the half melted robot team felt confused and astonished by his survival, John just felt like they should get a move on. "Can you all please get off me now?"

One of the more mobile robots flinched. "Holy SHIT kid, you're still alive!?"

Huh? "Well, yeah. I mean, I think so? How would I know if I wasn't?" Was life defined differently here? After all, if robots could be alive without a heartbeat or whatever, maybe John DID count as deceased. Maybe.

An electronic snort came from one of the others. "Trust me kid, you'd notice not being alive… I think. Right? Shit, this is going to keep me up tonight if I manage to not have a panic attack later." "How is he not charcoal right now? My chassis is half melted from that!" "Shut it, don't question life when something impossibly GOOD happens, it's rare enough as it is!" "Fuck it, fine. Kid takes a nuke to the face and walks it off, whatever." "Yeah, I'm not looking forward to this mission's after action report." """SHIT!""" "Don't forget that we have to pay to repair these platforms too." """Damn it!"""

John interrupted their ongoing pity party and downward emotional spiral. "Are we going to need to reroute again because of this? A huge chunk of the city is now like… Melted. Or melting. Or will soon be melting."

Staff Sergeant Hernandez gave his team a look that shut them all up before half heartedly answering, his damaged body having an odd rasp to it now when he communicated. "As the zone has been cleared of the incursion, it should be much safer and simpler now to… Please stop eating the radioactive material sir."

Oops! "Sorry, it just was glowing this delicious looking blue color and the metal gets so SPONGY when…"

Cough.

Focus! Just put some in your Pocket to snack on later. "Yes sir! No chewing on stuff while you are trying to lead us to safety, check!"

The machine hesitated, and his voice came out very dry. "Ideally, I'd prefer you to avoid consuming ANY hazardous materials while under my watch."

John blinked. "What, this stuff?" He cracked off a massive shard of glass, sneaking a bit of a nibble in the process. "It's perfectly fine!" Nom nom nom. "Ooh, that's a good temper treatment, right there."

Seeing the electronic disbelief in his audience, he wiggled the slightly chewed material. "See? Nothing more than a bit of processed sand, soda ash and limestone! Plus all the other trace elements for coloring and all that, all good stuff!"

He pointed at the nearby technicolored radioactive mound. "I mean, THAT stuff is a bit spicy… And we really should move further away from it, because your friend in the back left looks like she is going to start melting faster at this point… But this is just boring ole glass and some metal and a bit of sumptuous mixed material."

The robot gestured at the mix of rocks, concrete fragments, and tiny paint chip fragments… Along with everything ELSE he was holding in his hand. "By 'mixed material', are you talking about the handfuls of junk you keep chewing on when you think I've stopped watching you?"

Uh. "Maybe no? Not technically?"

That didn't seem to convince ANY of them.

Ugh. "Look, it's just like trail mix but without raisins in it. Not that I hate raisins, I actually like them a lot and don't mind eating those when I can, but trail mix to me is supposed to be a crunchy treat, with maybe some smoothness from bits of chocolate in there, you know? And when you put raisins in with the mix, it messes with the textures."

Great, now they probably thought he was anti-raisin or something. "I mean, you wouldn't put gummy bears or whatever in trail mix, right? Too chewy, you know? But you can still LIKE gummy worms or rings or stuff on their own without being a hypocrite in my opinion."

Now they were staring at him. Awkward.

He offered the small mound of fractured material to the group. "I'm willing to share? Though it's probably not as refined as whatever metal you guys eat to repair your hardware."

One of the robots huffed, his damaged body flinching unintentionally. "Kid, we aren't robots."

John blinked. "Uh… Are you sure? Because you LOOK like robots, and if you have any hidden organic bits that aren't designed to absorb radioactive energy fields as a consumable power source they'd have died by this point from all the fallout."

The leader waved the rest to silence. "Young man, we are remotely piloting these platforms. It is part of a standing policy: To avoid having anyone outside of those using HEAVY equipment to ever come out to one of these combat zones in person."

Heavy equipment… "Ah, the giant robot."

With a clank, the not-really-a-robot nodded. "Yes, like the deployed Zords."

Hmm. "So should I make myself a giant robot?"

That set them all back before the leader responded. "Can you BUILD one in any short time frame?"

Build… Oh, they didn't realize that John was implying that he could swap out his small meat Body for a big robot one from his Pocketed collection. After all, he had made a LOT of prototypes before Grace came in to help sort everything out. "I mean, it would depend on what kind of design we are talking about…"

[[J: Sigh. "John, do NOT offer to Craft and deploy armies of massive robots. Or tell them that you have the ability to do so, or any of that. Get somewhere safe first."]]

Huh? Oh, alright. Will do! "Officially, I am not allowed to confirm or deny anything at this point. SO! My original question returns: Which way do we go?"

One of the back robots-who-wasn't-actually-a-robot continued his communications with their headquarters and pointed, which the Staff Sergeant caught. "South-east for now, apparently. Team, MOVE OUT! And Mr. Doe, please do not bring along contaminated material as we move through the area. These platforms have physical limitations until they become disabled and I do not wish to push them any further than they've already been pressed."

Aww… "Fine. But I'm keeping my gravel mix. And my snack rebars."

The leader grunted as he began leading the way. "Fine, I'll take what I can get. Call out if you see instability as we go everyone, you know the drill!" """SIR, YES SIR!"""

John couldn't help but glance longingly at the odd purple and pink glows as they slowly left the tempting slag and components behind on their way out of this joint.

…Maybe he could snag a few extra bits without being noticed? He tried to reach subtly towards the nearby…

"Sir."

FINE! "I wasn't going to grab it! Just…" Dang it. "Maybe taste a little bit? You know, for uh… Research reasons?"

"This way sir."

Dang it.

~~~Pocket System~~~

The doctor entered the debriefing room and immediately tossed his files onto the table. "That was ENTIRELY pointless."

The team assigned for handling this new 'displaced' visitor was set back, and Manager Samantha Melkins leaned forward. "There was an issue with his physical? Or the decontamination process? Was he injured?"

The fact that the boy even ESCAPED from an active conflict zone was impossible enough as it was!

The man snorted. "How would I know? All my equipment gave me nonsense!"

He gestured at the full folder of paper on the table. "Heartbeat? Optional. Same with breathing or sleeping or eating, etc. Genetic testing? Pointless! All of it was too off the chart for any of the results to be understandable. And forget about our radioactivity concerns, from what he told me his body EATS the stuff… Along with all sorts of OTHER sources of energy and power that attempt to 'modify, infiltrate, or usurp' his body without prior approval."

…She felt confused. "I'm sorry?"

He leaned forward, finger stabbing the paper on the table. "My scans return 'Yes, there is an object here' at BEST! Any sound or current or emitted energy wave? Either absorbed as if dropped into a black hole, or responding with impossible results that boil down to 'Nothing wrong here, move along citizen'!"

Doctor Dent rubbed his head in exasperation. "The last few hours were a complete WASTE of both MY time and HIS! We only have this little amount of data available HERE because I flat out REQUESTED information from the boy to put into his medical profile!"

That sounded honestly impossible, but impossible happened on a near daily basis in this world. "I'm sorry this has been so stressful for you, Doctor."

He huffed. "None of that, Sam. I know you always do your best for the crazy things that wander into our reality. And most of the time, even with setbacks, I manage to get results… But I can not confirm John Doe's age, gender, health, or even basic information like height or HAIR COLOR if he actively decides that he doesn't wish to share it. It's why all the reports turned in so far covering the patient just refer to him as 'John' or 'Boy' or 'Kid' and have almost NO descriptions included like usual."

She tensed. "Are we talking about an active hazard situation here?"

He shook his head. "No, thank goodness, just some sort of automated suppression field he generates. According to the boy, it's both to restrain his power to something survivable to those around him AND to prevent dangerous things from easily detecting him and putting both him and the general area at risk."

Samantha rattled off her challenge pass for the shift. "Onion eight fish hat corner green left tree?"

And the doctor responded with understanding. "Potato three quail shoe hall blue up bush."

The room relaxed a certain amount. "Glad you aren't compromised, doctor… But don't forget to log yourself for the rest of the shift. Better safe than sorry."

He snorted. "Don't teach your grandmother to suck eggs. Anyway, I put what I could into the forms, but that boy is healthy if he says he is, apparently has a dietary requirement of 'Sure, why not', and managed to drop one MORE bombshell on me as I was heading out."

The room murmured before she gave a LOOK and they silenced. "Yes?"

The man sighed. "Apparently the impossible kid has an older sister and two girlfriends."

…So? "Some cultures do practice various forms of polygamy or…"

He glared. "In his pocket."

…Her brain stopped. "I'm sorry?"

Doctor Dent nodded. "That boy has three full sized people. In his pocket. Right now. And asked me if they needed to go through a medical checkup too."

What?

He pointed at her face! "See!? THAT'S why I left my people to handle that mess and came here! Thanks to the extra people getting medically cleared, it's probably going to be another HOUR until they all get processed to even enter into the decontamination chambers!"

Standing up and leaving the room, he continued to grumble. "I called out for the rest of the day too, this whole shift's been a loss. Probably because it's Thursdays, I've never gotten the hang of Thursdays."

Wait, hold up! "You need to come back and… Doctor!"

"Nope! Wish you the best Sam, see you tomorrow!"

And... He's gone. Damn it! "Can someone contact his office and make sure that our displaced visitor…" Shit. "I mean 'visitors' apparently, are kept calm and watched over while we go through this mess?"

One of her people went off to make sure that their displaced visitor wasn't left wandering about, potentially releasing an unknowable number of undocumented unexpected immigrants into the facility. Because that was apparently a possibility now.

As for the rest… "Everyone grab part of this report and pass them around. We need to catch up on what we can NOW and then meet our new guests as soon as possible, get this mess wrangled to some degree."

Why couldn't this have been one of the displaced Voltron or Super Sentai teams? Those happened so often the process to send them home was damned near automated!

Fine, she'd handle this. Just like with the other displaced she helped: Do this one step at a time.

"Holy SHIT, he EATS nuclear waste!" "I mean, sure it's radioactive but it's not from a nuclear plant." "Yeah, I don't think it counts as Nuclear Waste if it isn't from a facility."

This case would probably end up as one of her odder ones though, that was for sure.

"Maybe he's one of those 'mutant' people?" "I still say this is some sort of magical projection." "You say EVERYONE we get is a magical projection." "And I was RIGHT!" "ONE TIME, PAUL! You were right ONE TIME!" "So at least ONE time I was right 100% of the time, yes?" "Shut up, Paul." "This kid went through the observance testing, so at least we know that he continues to exist when no one detects him directly." "Unless that's what he WANTS us to think! [Slurp!]" "Oh fuck, when did he get that!?"

God damn it. "Paul, stop drinking coffee. You know you are banned from drinking coffee."

"THE BEANS OF THE GODS SHALL BE BOILED WITH JUSTICE AND FLAVORED WITH THE CREAM OF PATRIOTS! WE ARE ALL TO DRINK DEEP OF THE GLORIOUS LIQUID!"

Shit, he managed to get more than one cup of the stuff. "Yes yes, we will all be happy to drink all the coffee in the world. Jerald, please take Paul back to his room so he can meditate on the true meaning of caffeination."

"I'VE HEARD HEAVEN AND IT PERCOLATES WITHIN OUR HEARTS!" "Shh, shh, we know Paul, we know." "YOU… You do?" "Yes, yes, walk with me, come on…"

And now they were down two. "Jerald will be back soon, let's shock him by how much we have gotten done by then!"

"""Yes Ma'am!"""

Damn it if she didn't want to call out today too though.

Right, let's get this done before the displaced group of impossible people manage to complete their decontamination procedures… She felt like her short term work load was going to get extremely complicated all too soon.