(Scenes from Legends of Tomorrow Season 6, Episode 13)
CW: implicit references to addiction and induced childbirth of an extraterrestrial nature
After Captain Sharpe has reactivated my operating system, I've ensured that the Legends are all accounted for. Mr. Tarazi is visiting 2045 Washington D.C. His sister and Mr. Constantine are in his manor, where the Waverider is parked at this time. I then discern my surveillance cameras on the ship. A bearded man with an undercut bun is singing along to David Bowie's "Space Girl" in the library. A tense Captain Lance stealthily retrieves a combat knife off the bookshelf. She stops the phonograph, alerting the stranger of her arrival. "What are you doing here," the captain interrogates. "How are you even alive?"
"What a fantastically boring question. Kayla downloaded me from the Cloud onto your printer." So, he is the person her tentacle was printing. "A better question would be 'why'."
She draws the knife at his neck. "Like, why shouldn't I just slit your throat and watch you bleed out on my carpet?"
"Oh," the erratic man chuckles. "Because… then you wouldn't have any more of your questions answered."
"Until you print yourself out again?"
"Alas, you're looking at the last-gen me," he sighs. "My data was corrupted when a certain someone blew up my lab before my upload was complete, but that's cool. I forgive you."
"You kidnapped me." That is the aforementioned Bishop? His outfit doesn't seem scientific. "You manipulated me in every possible way."
"True, but I also saved you—No, no. Not going to make this about me." Bishop relaxes his face as he overlooks his former captive. "You see, I've changed."
Captain Lance scoffs, "You've changed?" She mindfully crosses her arms. "And why should I believe you?"
"Let me prove it to you. C'mon. What do you say, Sara Lance?" He trills, "Is there room for one more mixed-up outcast on this zany little ship of yours?"
"Actually, I think we have a room that would suit you perfectly." The captain escorts him to the lab. The other Legends watch as she activates the brig's barrier around the genetic engineer.
Miss Cruz quizzes, "So… that's Bishop?"
"Not at all what I was expecting," Captain Sharpe observes.
"For a psychotic supervillain," Dr. Heywood murmurs, "the guy's got a great look."
"Yeah, they always do," Miss Logue impassively comments.
Bishop remains unfazed by the animosity aimed at him. "So, shall we start with the introductions?" His sights are immediately on the co-captain. "You, of course, are Ava. Not just any Ava, the Ava. Congratulations, by the way, on your engagement." He gives Captain Lance a wink. "So, do you kids have a date yet or—"
"All right, that is enough!" She addresses the other Legends, "Don't listen to him. Don't even talk to him. He's just trying to get into our heads so that he can do whatever it is he came to do."
Mr. Rory, who was moved aside, recovers from the Necrian love grip. He stumblingly rises to his feet. "Where the hell is she?"
The genetic engineer recognizes him as well. "You! My colleague Kayla had very strong thoughts about you ceasing to exist. What happened, I wonder?"
"She changed her mind," the reeling arsonist numbly replies. Speaking of whom, she and her pod tracker has departed the Waverider. It's also noted that the spacecraft on the dockage is gone as well.
"Is that so," Bishop queries with a cheeky grin. "Well, speaking of changes, love the 'do."
"All right, everybody out," the captain tells the rest of the Legends. "Let's go." She stops Miss Cruz, instructing, "Keep an eye on him. If he tries to escape, shoot him in the face."
The conveniently armed survivalist assents, "You got it, Capitana."
The genetic engineer ponders aloud, "Why would I want to escape when I feel like I am finally home?" This man must be delusional.
Captain Lance joins Captain Sharpe and Dr. Heywood outside the lab. As they stroll through the eastern corridors, she expresses a bit of previously uncovered information. "Something's missing."
"What do you mean, 'something's missing'," her partner inquires. "Like his moral compass?"
"No, like, 6% of who Bishop is. We destroyed his compound before he could finish uploading himself."
"You know what, guys?" The co-captain theorizes, "A true psychopath wouldn't wanna just murder the woman who destroyed his life work. He'd really want to take some time torturing her, you know?"
"Thanks, babe. That's very… reassuring." Dr. Heywood fidgets his shirt collar at the same time.
"But, if Bishop wants to play chess, he has chosen the wrong opponent."
Captain Lance abruptly halts, having deduced what her true crime-obsessed fiancée precisely has in mind. "Uh, no. No, no, no. Absolutely not."
"Please. C'mon, babe. I've always wanted to get inside the mind of an evil genius."
"Who, technically speaking, created you," Dr. Heywood notes. "Both of you, actually."
"Not helping, Nate." She entreats her unconvinced fiancée, "Look, I'll just go in there and try to find a way to connect with him. That way, we can figure out why he's here."
"You sure?"
"Yes."
"Okay, all right," the captain accedes. "Just don't let him get into your head, right?" She kisses her partner's hands and leaves along with Dr. Heywood. Captain Sharpe eagerly rubs her hands together while contriving questions to probe Bishop. Apart from still forbidding the usage of a certain C-word, the co-captain hasn't once discovered the incentive to meet the scientist responsible for creating her. That is until after he was literally regenerated on board.
"Ah, I was hoping we'd have a chance to kibbitz," Bishop exhales when she re-enters the lab. "Get to know each other, just you and me."
"But you already know me. Didn't you have a planet full of me's?"
"Oh, don't sell yourself so short. Sara could've had her pick of my AVAs, yet she turned over the heavens to get back to you. So, what makes you so special?"
The co-captain chuckles, "Sara said you'd try to get in my head."
"Like she isn't interested in getting into mine."
She incredulously shakes her head. "I knew this was a mistake." Captain Sharpe turns to walk out until Bishop beckons to her.
"No, wait, wait, wait. Please don't go." He points out, "We've hardly broken the ice." I peer at her lip-biting smirk. She has waited for this moment.
Also unbeknownst to him, Captain Lance and Dr. Heywood are viewing the interrogation in the parlour. "Thatagirl," she proudly asserts. "You see that? Making Bishop think that she's the vulnerable one? Genius." The captain hands him a second glass of scotch before initiating a literal game of chess. All the while, they resume watching the inquisition.
"You know what," they hear Captain Sharpe interrogate the genetic engineer. "You can play nice all you want; it still doesn't excuse the fact that you kidnapped my fiancée."
"But the fact that I did so in order to save all of humanity…" By experimenting on humans and aliens? "Changes nothing. You're right. I was an arrogant, egomaniac meanie."
"And now what? You came here to turn over a new leaf? Is that what we're all supposed to believe?"
"Where else would I go? What else would I do," Bishop sighs. "Look, I know this is gonna sound perverse, but…"
"But what?"
"…you and Sara are the closest thing I have left to a family." Bishop exhales, "I know. Sounds insane." He turns away from her, seemingly abashed.
"No, I get it actually," she understates. "You're a clone. I'm a clone, and it's not like I have any real family. So… sure. I guess, in some perverse way, we are… like family."
A small smile tugs at the corner of the genetic engineer's mouth. "Can I… tell you a secret?" He sits on the therapy couch. "You were always my favorite AVA. Not you personally, of course. Your model."
The co-captain scoffs, "You mean 'Bossy Ava'?" Have I mentioned this beforehand?
"Ugh, a moniker our marketing department came up with." Or that Bishop founded AVA Corporation? "I wanted to call you 'Boss Ava'. Only people were afraid of a clone that would tell them what to, except that's precisely what you were designed for. But you have exceeded my wildest dreams. You're getting married." He chuckles, "Didn't see that one coming."
"Why not?"
"I modeled you on a specific template which ensures physical and intellectual perfection. To achieve that, I reduced the oxytocin levels in all my AVAs. Can't let a thing like feelings hinder productivity."
"Huh," she considers, "maybe that's why I'm having such a hard time planning this wedding. Productivity is usually my strong suit, and I can't even put together a seating arrangement."
"Maybe I can help—not like I have anything else to do. It'll be fun."
"If Sara even knew I was talking to you—"
"Oh, c'mon. It'll be our little secret."
"How do I know you're not doing this to get me to let my guard down?"
"I am doing this, so that you'll let your guard down." Should there be polygraphs on the Waverider for cases like this? "I want to get to know you, Ava."
"I have to go." Captain Sharpe turns and heads to exit the lab.
"I can also help your friend Rory," Bishop spouts.
She stops and looks back at him. "Why? What's wrong with Rory?"
"Nothing yet, but those babies in his head are getting hungry."
"How the hell did you know—"
"Kayla letting him live? The fact that he's experiencing headaches, that luxurious hair. Doesn't take a genius to realize he mated with a Necrian." He contemplatively strokes his beard. "I spent eons trying to meld humans and aliens but never thought to do it the old-fashioned way. I can help you save Rory by giving his spawn the proper nutrients. It's either that… or his brain." The genetic engineer provides the co-captain a recipe of sorts for a formula that'll nourish Mr. Rory's eggs.
Captain Lance has paused her and Dr. Heywood's chess game to help out. In the galley, they pour the concoction into the childing hothead's ear canal. He lets out an alleviated moan as he raises his head upright. "Mmm," she evinces, "I guess it worked."
"Of course it did," Captain Sharpe postulates. "I made Bishop think that I needed something from him, and he proved himself to be trustworthy for now. But, believe me, this is just the opening move of our little chess match."
Mr. Rory protests, "What does that make me? The pawn?"
The captain tastes what's left in the blender. "Hmm, it's not that bad." This and the smell visibly disgusts her partner. "What can I say? I have alien taste buds. Are you sure it's okay we leave Spooner in there alone with Bishop?"
"Are you kidding," she scoffs. "There's no way he's getting in her head."
Miss Tarazi had re-embarked in a seething mood. Mr. Constantine lied to her again. Miss Logue initially believed he's back to his old self. On the other hand, he has started blaming the Fountain of Imperium for his behavior. The sorceress suggested that, if Miss Tarazi wanted to know what happened in 1939 Albacete, they would need to speak to Miss Cruz.
The survivalist is currently polishing her firearm and listening to music. Miss Tarazi fails to catch her attention outside the lab, so she reaches her via her comms. She's additionally unimpressed by Bishop, noting his "turtleneck is doing him no favors". Miss Cruz exits the lab to converse with her and Miss Logue. "Hey," Miss Tarazi inquires, "what happened when John drank from the Fountain of Imperium?"
"Uh, I was with him and the kid Fernando in the cave," she recounts. "The fascists were coming and… uh…" The survivalist mumbles indistinctly.
"Spoons, you okay?"
"Uh, the-the fascists were coming and… whoa, okay, that was weird. It's like there's a blank spot in my memory."
"Like something's been erased," the sorceress deduces.
"You think John put a spell on me? I'm gonna kill him."
Despite her own ambivalence for her boyfriend, Miss Tarazi insists, "Just not until we find out what he wanted you to forget."
Miss Logue indicates, "Which means I'm going to have to put another spell on you."
"Look, I'd love to help you, but—" Miss Cruz points at Bishop, reminding them that she's still on guard duty. Captain Sharpe incidentally walks behind her.
"Ah, Aves, perfect timing."
"Hey, what are you guys—" She quickly retracts her unfinished question. "Anyway, I need a moment with Bishop."
"He is all yours."
The survivalist gives her firearm to the co-captain. "Just in case somebody gets out of line."
"Thanks." As they diverge, Bishop acknowledges the latter. "So, how's our pregnant friend feeling?"
"Better." She sets Miss Cruz's weapon aside on the desk. "Thank you for the advice."
"Perhaps there's some way I could assist your friend John."
"John? What's wrong with him?"
"Oh, I don't know. Just—" He tosses his removed coat on the couch. "Your friend seemed concerned about him. Maybe he drank something he shouldn't have? I am a doctor."
"No," Captain Sharpe apprehends. "John's fine." If Mr. Tarazi's here, he'd beg to differ.
Meanwhile, Captain Lance and Dr. Heywood are continuing their chess game. "You think Bishop's his real name," she queries him.
"Hmm, it does feel a little on the nose." In addition, his surname is redacted from his records for an unknown reason.
"Gideon, how we doing with the scan?"
"I'm still analyzing his genetic code." It'll take me at least another hour to comply a full profile based on his genetic material.
The captain mutters, "What is he hiding?"
"$10 says Ava gets it out of him first," Dr. Heywood wagers.
"I don't bet against my girl." She then makes her move on the chessboard.
Contrary to their assumption that Captain Sharpe is "playing him like a fiddle", she appears more trusting of Bishop. He uprears himself upon eyeing a refined dossier in her hands, warbling, "I spy with my little eye a wedding binder!" After she hands it off to him, the genetic engineer skims through the pages. "Oh! It's thorough."
"Yeah, I've… heard that," the co-captain derides. "Sara put me in charge because, usually, I'm the decisive one and I can't seem to choose a single thing."
"Okay, let's start simple." He places the binder aside. "What's the coolest wedding you've ever been to, huh? What kind of vibe we talking?"
She reflectively answers, "Um, I've never actually been to an elaborate wedding."
"Hmm?"
"Yeah. I was sort of known as the 'party pooper' at the Time Bureau, so..."
Bishop sympathizes, "Hey, look, it's tough being the boss."
"I know," Captain Sharpe stresses. "Thank you."
"Now, look, you're just putting too much pressure on yourself. Just go with your gut."
"I can't. I don't—What if I choose something weird?"
"Who cares? Speed round. What's your favorite flower?"
"Is cactus a flower?" No, but cacti do produce flowers.
"Favorite color?"
"Grey."
"Appetizer?"
"See, the thing about appetizers is I don't understand why people have to eat before they eat."
"Okay, so the ceremony will be… unconventional, but it's all you."
She sighs in exasperation, "Admit it. I'm weird!" The co-captain flops into a nearby chair. "Why the hell did you have to make me so weird?"
"First off, I didn't make you. Yes, I designed you, but everything you've done in your life is your accomplishment. Not mine. And you not knowing whether you want a vegan cake doesn't matter." When did she mention this? "I'm gonna take that back. Vegan cakes are disgusting."
This makes Captain Sharpe laugh. "Well, thank you… for trying to help. I really appreciate it."
"Hey, don't forget. I'm a clone too." He sits on the brig's steps. "A clone of a clone of a clone of a clone."
"So, how many times have you…?"
"I lost track somewhere around my 200th reiteration."
"200th? And every one of them was different?"
"You know me. I like to tinker."
"So, how exactly is this 'you' different from the 'you' Sara knew?"
"Hmm. Good question." Captain Lance has awaited this moment. "There was something missing from the 'me' that she met on Pliny X19. Took me a long time to find it. You wanna know what it was?" His interlocutor affirmatively shrugs. "Humility."
"Humility? Wow." That isn't what either co-captain or Dr. Heywood is expecting to hear. As I speak, the captain has just called the prisoner "a lying piece of crap".
In the library, Miss Cruz is girding herself for Miss Logue to perform her memory spell. She drinks a shot of liquor and bites down a leather belt. The sorceress recites, "Tortured mind with secrets hidden, show me that which is forbidden." 15 seconds later, the survivalist removes the belt from her mouth. She recalls that Mr. Constantine didn't drink from the Fountain of Imperium. In fact, it rejected him because it deemed him unworthy.
Miss Tarazi queries, "Then, how did he get his magic back?"
"He took a sip of something. I don't know what it was, but he killed the soldiers who were attacking us after that." These recollections unequivocally confirm Mr. Tarazi's long-held suspicions. His underwhelmed sister heads for the door, purporting on dumping her "lying, dumpster fire of a boyfriend".
However, Miss Logue stops her. "A juiced-up warlock who likes to kill people? I don't think so. We first need to figure out exactly what John's been dosing himself with." She necessitates the latter to confiscate his flask.
Bishop browses through a collection of record albums Captain Sharpe has attained from the library. Most of which are Captain Lance's personal favorites. "Your betrothed has good taste in music… and in a partner." He gasps, "Oh, found it!" The genetic engineer passes his selection to the co-captain. "Lou Reed's Transformer, 1972."
She examines the album cover. "Looks punky."
"Mmm-hmm."
"Well, I guess Sara and I got engaged at a punk show, so—Same night that you kidnapped her, actually." Captain Sharpe sets the vinyl record on the phonograph. "You wanna know the even crazier thing about it is? If you hadn't kidnapped her, she may never have proposed. Wasn't until we all went back that same night a second time that she popped the big question."
"A real mind-bender, huh?" As "Perfect Day" begins playing, they listen to the opening verses. "What do you think?"
"It's, um, unconventional." The co-captain smiles a bit. "I like it. so, I'm not sure how you—How do you dance to it?"
"Let me show you." He arises and extends his hand to her. "It'll be our father-daughter dance."
She hesitates, "I'm… not sure that's a good idea."
"You mean with Sara watching?"
Captain Sharpe huffs, "You knew." She promptly shuts off the surveillance camera there. Joining Bishop inside the brig, they laugh and dance a closed American-style waltz.
"I'm sorry I pried before, about John."
"No, it's-it's okay. It's nice of you to try and help. It's just—he's a little more complicated than Rory."
"Mmm, tormented by demons of his own making?"
"Yes, literally."
"Mmm."
"This song—Sara is going to love it. Makes me wanna smile and cry all at the same time."
"Yes, I know exactly how you feel."
"Why," she genuinely asks. "Did you design me to feel that way?"
"What difference does it make? All of us are just a jumble of neurons and synapses, a tiny electrical storm in our head." The genetic engineer encloses the co-captain's hands with his. "Why should your feelings be any less real than anyone else's?" He smiles warmly, concluding, "I'm proud of you, Ava. I only wish we could have a dance of our own on your special day."
Emotionally affected by his words, she recedes from him. "I-I can't. I'm sorry." Captain Sharpe escapes, locking the door behind her. The profound moment overwhelms her that she tugs her turtleneck collar and dissolves into sobs.
The co-captain eventually calms down but doesn't re-enter the lab. She observes Bishop sitting quietly and alone. Her own musings are interrupted by Captain Lance's arrival. "A-ha! Bravo," she applauds. "Babe, that was masterful. The way you played Bishop off of me to make think that you trust him? What a performance!" The captain is partially observant to her fiancée's face. "That was a performance, right?"
"Yeah, yeah," she falteringly replies. "Yeah."
The latter sits next to her. "Gideon's scan came back. He's 100% human, so we know what he is." Still, I've yet to decipher the remaining 6%. "You have any theories on why he's here?"
Captain Sharpe kisses her teeth. "Honestly, I think he wants to get to know us. I think he sees us as family."
"Really?"
"Yeah." She scratches her neck, adding, "I-I-I know it's part of his act or whatever but doesn't mean it isn't true, right?"
"Yeah, actually, I think you found his angle." Captain Lance stands up, theorizing, "He's gonna use you guys to get to me, which is smart."
The co-captain forcefully differs, "Or maybe this isn't about you." She fights not to cry again. "Maybe the guy's just lonely, you know. Not everybody has a family that they can call their own." Captain Sharpe storms off, rendering the captain in bewilderment.
The day has been eventful in more ways than one. Yet I haven't discussed Mr. Green, who has uncharacteristically stayed hidden since Kayla's severed tentacle assaulted him. His throat has recovered physically; as he has told himself, he won't have to interact with his ex-boss/ex-fiancée again unless otherwise. The alien consultant bucks up after I've notified him that Mr. Rory's headaches have escalated into short migraines. Concurrently, the former needs to eat. "Three, four, five," he counts as he makes himself a sandwich.
The childing hothead groans in pain, "What the hell was that?"
"A contraction. A 6-second contraction, to be exact." Mr. Green chirpily expounds, "You are officially in labor. Sooner than expected, but, you know, we are in unchartered waters here."
"When does my head explode?"
"Your head's not gonna explode, not with Uncle Gare here. Although, once you hit the second week of labor, you might wish it had."
"Is it going to hurt?"
"Well, my father describes it like eating a handful of hot peppers and then passing 50 large pointy rocks through his Necrian head hole. Which, for you, will be your ears." How can the eggs bypass the skull?
"Ears? Ah!" Mr. Rory grunts loudly, shaking his head. "I can't do this. I-I can't do this."
He walks to his teammate's side, assuring, "It's totally normal to feel this way, Mick. You know, this is just you facing the reality of these babies. Soon, you're going to be a daddy."
That last sentence doesn't appease the hysterical arsonist. "A single dad of 48 babies. I didn't sign up for this."
"I mean, you're not gonna be alone." He obtains a bottled juice from the refrigerator. "You got me. You got all the Legends."
"Right. Yeah. You're gonna be the godfather." The alien consultant revels in Mr. Rory's low-pitched designation to the point of nearly dropping his beverage.
He underplays his reaction with nonchalant recognition. "Yeah, sure. Yeah, I mean, whatever." Regarding his caring nature, Mr. Green can be an excellent father.
Miss Tarazi reconvenes with Misses Cruz and Logue in the library, having secured Mr. Constantine's flask. The sorceress sniffs the liquid contained inside. She identifies it as vampire blood or "a Scarlet Lady". The sorcerer has been utilizing "some very volatile, very dark magic" which'll kill him if he persists drinking it.
As Miss Tarazi opines confronting him, an irate, grungy, and perspiring Mr. Constantine has boarded the Waverider in search of her. "Zari!" He enters, urging, "Where is it?"
"John, don't do this," Miss Logue warns.
The sorcerer compulsorily belittles her, "You stay out of this!" He resolutely demands his girlfriend. "You give it now."
She holds the vial up to him. "It's this or me, John. You can't have both." He grabs it out of her hand, much to the three women's chagrin. Mr. Constantine looks between them and the flask for a moment. He ultimately discards it in the garbage bin, apologizing for his behavior. The sorceress and Miss Cruz leave the couple alone.
"I thought I had control of this thing… but I don't," the sorcerer wearily confesses. "I don't."
"Is it done?"
"That was the last of it, yeah." He unresistingly approaches Miss Tarazi. "Now, look. I'm gonna lock myself in that manor. I am not coming out till this is out of my system, all right? I promise you that." Mr. Constantine turns to leave, but his girlfriend stops him by uttering his given name. She vocally opts to join him. They depart the ship for the manor.
Captain Lance ruminates on what Captain Sharpe said. She reclaims the deserted wedding binder from the lab without a single word to Bishop. The captain locates her in the parlour, reviewing my scan on Bishop's DNA. "Hey." The co-captain isn't very receptive. "Look, I'm sorry. This whole thing is my fault. I never should have sent you in there alone."
"You didn't send me in, Sara," she corrects. "It-it was my idea to interrogate him."
"Yes. Yeah, you're right." Captain Lance puts the binder on the table. She walks towards her partner. "Oh, babe. I'm sorry, okay? And I'm sorry if I was putting too much pressure on you to plan the wedding. I didn't—I thought that it was what you wanted, and I—"
Captain Sharpe finally looks her in the eye. "No, I did. I think focusing on dresses and seating arrangements was reassuring that things can be managed. But what can't be managed is that I have no idea how I'm supposed to be feeling." She exhales and planks the tablet down. "I-I never saw my parents kiss or laugh or, you know, fight even. I never had a mom to hug me after a heartbreak or a dad to tell me that he was proud of me. I've just never had a family… to love me, and I really don't know that I'm gonna know how to love ours." As guarded as she is, it's easy to overlook that she isn't made out of iron.
The captain conscientiously reassures, "Babe, you do not need to learn how to love. Everything about you is love. And it doesn't matter where you came from." She positions her hand over the co-captain's upper chest. "You made yourself into who you are. And I'll tell you what—that chick? She's the most intelligent, funniest, and most loving person that I have ever met."
The two hug each other tightly. "You're the best." She sighs in relief, "Thank you."
"Okay." Captain Lance redirects their focus to the wedding binder. "Will you come and show me what you've been planning?"
"No; there's still much to decide on."
"Come on," she presses. "I wanna see."
"Okay. Wait, wait, wait. Start with something good." Captain Sharpe flips the pages over until she reaches one in particular. "Here we go."
"Is that a lemon buttercream cake topped with maraschino cherries? Perfect!"
"Well, the cherries were Bishop's idea, but—"
The captain turns over the page. "Ooh, I love whatever these flowers are."
"Yeah. Actually, that was all Bishop."
Another page is flipped over. "Tapas. Yes, that's perfect. I love that idea."
"Oh, well, I was actually thinking a more traditional, you know, meal service, but then he suggested tapas 'cause they're more fun, they…"
"..encourage conversation, and help the people stuck at the…"
They both finish, "…boring table." It's as if Bishop and the captain are sharing the same mind. Wait a minute.
"Wow, Bishop is, uh—He's pretty good at wedding planning, I guess. It's like he's reading my mind or something."
I forward the outcome of the DNA typing I just conducted to the tablet. A boggled Captain Sharpe projects it to the monitor. "Uh, babe? It's not like that; it is that. The missing 6%... is you."
Captain Lance turns her sights to the monitor. She adjudges the test result unbelievable. "He's 6% me? What the hell does that mean?"
At that point, Bishop declares a familiar phrase with a sly smile. "Spaniel, Broad, Tricycle." Not again.
"System override," I announce. "Your orders, Captain?"
"Shut down the electromagnetic barrier." As I (unwillingly) oblige, the genetic engineer picks up his coat and Miss Cruz's gun. He walks out of the lab, whistling.
In the eastern corridors, Mr. Green is transporting Mr. Rory in an accent chair with casters to the medbay. "12, 13, 14—Your contractions are getting longer," he denotes. "Your water could break any time now."
They come across Dr. Heywood in time for him to hear this. "Wait, Mick, you're in labor?"
"I'm gonna be a godfather, Nate," the alien consultant happily exclaims.
"Wait, do you need anything like a-a Q-tip or something?" He points at the childing hothead's auricle. "Because there's disgusting ooze coming out of your ear." Mr. Green attempts to stipulate this, only to grasp a patch of Mr. Rory's hair. Dr. Heywood proclaims, "Whoa! Your hair is falling out."
The afflicted arsonist cries out, "No!"
"This is all happening so fast," the alien consultant agitatedly perceives.
"Go, go, go," Dr. Heywood enjoins. "I'll get Sara and Ava!" He detours to the bridge. At that time, the co-captains are exiting the parlour. "It's happening. Mick's water broke." They regard him with a mixture of stupefaction and bafflement. "I know, it sounds weird to say it. Come on."
"Okay," Captain Sharpe replies. "It's go time." They speedily exit the bridge. However, they abruptly stop en route to observe Bishop strolling past the galley on the security footage.
"Wait, wait. How did he get out?"
"I let him out," I concede. "Sorry. He knew the override code."
Captain Lance gripes, "Dang it, he got the 6% with all the useful stuff."
"Gideon," the genetic engineer orders, "be a peach and lock down the hallway." If only I can refuse. I begin sealing off the passageways, one after the other. The captain knows precisely where he's heading.
"Rory." She leaps into the nearest cross-sectional pathway seconds prior to its closing. Bishop turns around the corner in time for her to confront him. "You're not getting to Rory without getting through me. And let's be real, that's not gonna happen."
"Sara, you've got this all wrong." He claims, "I don't wanna hurt him. I wanna help him."
"And why would I trust you?"
He pauses before answering, "Because I am you."
The captain assumes her combat position. "You wish."
"You wanna fight? Aww, what can I say?" The genetic engineer tosses his coat. "I do too. Gideon…" He sets his own fighting stance. "…set the mood." I play an instrumental version of Sister Sledge's "We Are Family" through the intercom as they scrimmage. Dr. Heywood and the co-captain are monitoring this outside the bridge.
Mr. Rory is writhing around in one of the medbay's chairs. "The music isn't helping," he grunts. "Dork!" More patches of his hair are shedding off his head in chunks.
As the sparring continues, Bishop blocks his opponent's foot, quibbling, "You know what they say when you fight yourself? You're destined to lose." He counterattacks with a few missed punches.
She evasively spins and clutches his right arm. "Destiny's so last season." The double kick sends them flying across the corridor. Gasping for air, they charge at the other and run on the walls.
After dropping off the father-to-be in the medbay, Mr. Green steps away to acquire a Polaroid camera, a packet of incense sticks, a set of towels, and a hot water bottle. He encounters Captain Sharpe and Dr. Heywood on his way back. "Did you hear the good news," the alien consultant asks them. "I'm going to be a godfather." It takes him a minute and a half to notice the barricaded doors. "Why's the door locked? Rory needs me." Mr. Green soon perceives the ensuing fight. His eyes widen upon seeing Bishop again.
"I knew you were twisted," Captain Lance tells him, "but merging my DNA with yours—that is next level."
"You blew up my lab before I could finish my upload. I needed a few more A, C, G, and T's to complete my genome." He turns his back towards her and dodges her fist. "Yours were in the system, so I took them." She rotates him but is outmaneuvered again. "Now, I know everything you know." The genetic engineer forcibly kicks her in her abdomen. He then retrieves Miss Cruz's gun from his coat. "Unfortunately for you, that's all you know too." A single blast renders the captain out cold. Captain Sharpe, Dr. Heywood, and Mr. Green are dreading this scene. "Abren las puertas, por favor," Bishop cheerfully directs me as he enters the medbay.
The genetic engineer instructs me to lock them. Don't call me Gigi, sir. Mr. Rory isn't delighted to see him there either. "Get out of my delivery room."
"And miss all the fun," he chuckles. Laying the gun by the exit, he appraises the medical supplies in the cabinet. The father-to-be audibly groans in discomfort. "Just in time. Looks like that first guy is about to crown." Bishop dresses himself in the appropriate garments and horizontally positions the chair, all while ignoring the Legends' efforts in prying the doors open. Bishop inspects Mr. Rory's ear canal. "Oh, boy. Yeah," he assesses, "that does not look good."
"What doesn't look good?"
I fleetingly spot him holding the latter's earpiece with tweezers. The genetic engineer looks at his reluctant patient directly. "They're breech. Gideon, lubricate his sinus cavity."
"What?"
"We're gonna have to deliver these babies nasally." Prior to doing what he requested, I hear that Dr. Heywood has configured my system to reboot. He informs the other Legends it'll start in 30 minutes since I'm overdue for a calendar update. The co-captain requests Miss Cruz to bring "anything that can shoot through metal". Inside the medbay, Bishop and I watch three Necrian eggs consecutively being pushed out. "They're coming fast now."
"How many more," Mr. Rory strains.
The birth assistant croons, "Just 45 to go, and then I'll have them all." This delivery is truly unlike any other. Each egg popping out of his nostrils is placed in an empty utility cart. Needless to say, all 48 eggs are existent. I open the medbay doors just before the survivalist can use her metal blaster. Bishop rolls out the cart, announcing, "Meet the newest Legends." Everyone looks at him speechless; my operating system is restarting now.
I am happy to report that Mr. Rory, despite having another headache, is well. Mr. Green persists on helping him name the 48 eggs when he's in a better headspace. Captain Sharpe takes a picture of them, intending on sending it to their older half-sister. "Lita's gonna be so happy," she declares.
With the other Legends preoccupied, Captain Lance walks over to Bishop. "As it pains me to say this," she mouths, "thank you. Rory would've been dead without you."
He smiles oily, cooing, "Friends?"
"Don't push your luck. You should be happy I thanked you."
"Well, you can thank me by taking me back to my cell."
The captain is understandably incredulous. "You're volunteering to go back to your cell?" He verifies this by walking ahead. She and the co-captain follow after him.
"We would've just let you out if you'd explained what you were doing," the latter remarks.
"I now see how bad it looked from your end," the genetic engineer imparts. "Hindsight is 20/20." The barrier is activated via the computer. "Look, I get it. I messed up." He sits on the therapy couch, outwardly remorseful. "I've been alone for so long; I forgot what it means to be a friend, what it's like to be part of a family. I know I've got a lot of work to do. I just hope you'll give me a chance to earn your trust."
While listening to his speech, Captain Lance creates a new passcode. "We'll see." She and Captain Sharpe exit the lab.
"Ciao-ciao for now." Bishop looms and reaches inside his pocket. In his hand lies Mr. Rory's comms. He inserts it in his own ear. I eavesdrop on the impending conversation. "Greetings, Mr. Constantine."
"Who's this?"
"An old friend you just met."
"Bishop."
"You and I have a lot in common, it seems. And, perhaps, if you'll trust me—"
"Yeah, that's not likely, mate."
The genetic engineer chortles while slowly donning his coat. "Ever notice how people romanticize humility? Ironic, since it's power that changes the world. I can help you get yours back if you do me one—" The sorcerer disconnects the call. He's never liked wearing his comms.
The captains return to the medbay to visit Mr. Rory after a trip to the galley. Mr. Green joins them, brightly asking, "How's the proud papa?" Contently at ease. His smile disappears when he sniffs something in the air. "Is that mushroom and…" The alien consultant detects the smell emitting from the captain's cup. "…ginger?"
"Yeah, it's Bishop's pregnancy smoothie," she responds. "Poured down Rory's ears, but I like to drink it."
"Oh, that explains why Mick delivered so quickly. Necrians use ginger to induce labor."
The co-captain flatly asks, "What?"
"Why would Bishop want to induce Rory's labor," Captain Lance queries her. "It's not like he wanted the babies."
"Maybe he wanted something else." She peeks inside the new father's ear canal. "He induced Rory's labor so that he could get access to his comms."
"With the comms, he can talk to anyone."
"Argh! He's been studying us this whole time, trying to see who is vulnerable, who he can crack."
"Figuring who would help him." Alas, this conclusion has arrived too late. A malicious grin extends itself on Bishop's face when Mr. Constantine calls back with a renewed interest in his proposition.