Project ROWDY 26

A full mile beneath the Pentagon, and maybe a little more (there was all sorts of weird stuff that didn’t seem like it should fit in only a mile of space, honestly), the GDA hallway stretched ahead of Team Trinity, Troubleshooters of Truth (as Time magazine had taken to calling them). The place was the same as it usually was in the middle area, just between the true HQ and the residential/more-civilian wing, basically all polished floors and shiny buttons that Boomer was banned from touching, for various reasons.

Safety was somehow the least of them.

Brick Mojo, leader, commander, and tactician of the Rowdyruffs,  walked with his hands clasped behind his back, the redhead still wearing his Trinity uniform from their latest mission, and actually enjoying the feel of it now.

Not that he’d ever admit that.

Comfort in his costume’s fit or not, that wasn’t the topic of discussion today.

No, more than anything else, the three brothers were engaged in a more mature, more serious topic than anything related to their job, a topic that needed Brick’s full intellect, full focus, and full control of his words to defend with skill and elegance.

“The strategic complexity found within Naruto demonstrates superior narrative structure as Kishimoto obviously intended, little brother. You wouldn’t really understand something as carefully designed as that considering Toriyama was the epitome of convenience in art and storytelling as well as combat mechanics, opting for gags and screaming over function, but,” Brick was saying, his voice carrying that lecturing tone that meant he was already deeper into one of his dissertations than the GDA had dug into the ground. “Each jutsu has tactical applications that require actual planning. Hard to understand, but you can’t just power through every situation with brute force.”

With a loud and heavy sigh, Butch threw his arms out dramatically, sticking out his tongue before he even started talking. “There he goes again with the bullshit machine he calls his mouth. Bricky, big bro?”

Brick raised an eyebrow. “…yes?”

“Shut up.” Butch shot back. “Because, dude, let’s be straigh up real quick, yo, who cares about tactics when Goku can literally yell through dimensions? Like, straight up break reality with his lungs, man! That’s way cooler than your ninja tricks.”

“Goku never did that,” Brick shot back, well-versed enough with both the canon manga and anime filler to know something that simple. “That was Gotenks.”

“Scaling!” Butch hissed back, teeth tight and clenched.

“I like the magicky animes.” Boomer bounced between them, big blue eyes bright with enthusiasm, a sharp contrast to Brick’s focus and Butch’s barely-repressed annoyance.

“Anime/Anime,” both of his brothers shot back in unison, not even looking his way as they stared daggers at each other.

“Whateva,” Boomer shrugged of their correction. “Zatch Bell is so cool because the spellbooks are like—wait, did you guys see that episode where Kiyo figures out the combination spell? He’s like super smart like Brick and the way he analyzes the different mamodo powers reminds me of how Brick does the tactical stuff and—”

“You’re so weird, Boomer,” Butch cut him off as he pulled his toxic green eyes away from Brick’s fiery red and rolled them in his blue brother’s direction. “That show’s so dumb. Those momojo things look so weird, with their big ol’ eyes and stubby bodies. I don’t know how you even like it, those things look freaky.”

Boomer’s expression shifted a little, just as defiant as ever even if he suddenly seemed to get a little bit sad. “I like One Piece too! But it’s… it’s not as fun after they killed off Ace. Like, Luffy was crying and Whitebeard was all bloody and he called him son and then he died protecting everyone and—”

Brick and Butch shot each other a look, the one that said they knew Boomer was about to get emotional over fictional characters again.

“And tell me, when you’re not trying to maintain the form, how long would you say the transformation typically lasts?” A softly-asked question carried through the hallway, making all the boys blink.

Boomer, already frozen before he could go into another sentence, tilted his head like a confused puppy at a thankful distraction. “Hey, that’s Donald!”

“So?” Butch shrugged, green eyes flaring brighter with a stronger burst of annoyance. The black-haired boy sucked his teeth, rolling his eyes at what he clearly saw as another moment of Boomer being an idiot. “We just saw him this morning.”

“Yeaaaah, I know that,” Boomer replied, speaking slowly as if he and Butch didn’t both share the same braincell on alternating days. “But he sounds all… you know that thing where his voice gets all a little mechanical when he starts dealing with stuff he doesn’t wanna deal with? Like his robot parts getting all weird and he doesn’t realize it?”

Brick paused, the blank line on his face edging towards what could almost be considered something approaching a frown. “Boomer… the hell are you talking about?”

“No, but like, you know what I mean!” Boomer was already moving toward the door, curiosity overriding any sense of protocol. “Like when Cecil makes him do the paperwork for our property damage and he gets all high-pitched and starts clicking his pen really fast and…” The blond Rowdyruff rolled his eyes as he turned and walked away. “Whatever, your ears aren’t good enough.”

Butch and Brick shared that resigned look they’d perfected over months of Boomer’s curiosity spirals. There was no stopping him now.

Boomer pushed the door open wider and walked right in. “Hey Donald, we heard you talking and—oh.”

The conference room was small, standard GDA issue with the usual motivational posters and reinforced furniture. Donald stood frozen mid-gesture, tablet in one hand, looking like someone had just pressed pause on his entire existence.

Sitting at the table was a kid—maybe ten years old, wearing what could generously be called a superhero costume. Red pajama-style outfit that hung off his small frame like a hand-me-down, blue briefs clearly visible over the pants, and a towel cape safety-pinned around his neck that was already coming loose on one side. Thick glasses held together with tape, messy brown hair sticking up at impossible angles.

Next to him sat a pretty brown-haired woman in her thirties, clearly stressed, with a hand on the nerdy-looking kid’s shoulder.

“Boys,” Donald said, his voice hitting that exact squeaky register Boomer had mentioned, making Brick’s red eyes widen and his lips purse tighter at the fact that he had actually missed something Boomer hadn’t, “you can’t be here. This is a private meeting.”

Butch strolled in behind Boomer with his usual lack of concern for authority. “Door wasn’t locked.”

Donald’s mouth opened and closed as he tried to argue with the logic while maintaining some semblance of protocol. Brick stepped inside last, red eyes already scanning the room, cataloging details with tactical precision.

The woman pulled her son slightly closer, clearly trying to assess whether these were threats or just more weird government things she’d been dragged into.

The boy’s eyes widened. “Whoa! You’re the Trinity guys! I saw you fight Humongous months ago!”

Butch’s brow furrowed as he studied the kid. “What’s with the PJs, squirt?”

“They’re not PJs,” the boy shot back, as defensive as any ten-year old could be, with both white gloved hands gripping the sky-blue towel knotted loosely around his shoulders. “It’s my costume.”

Hold up. Brick’s eyes narrowed, red orbs locking onto the new kid like one of his lasers with just as much heat, even without any force. “Wait. I know you.”

The kid’s glasses nearly slid off his nose as he stared back, big blue eyes going wide behind them. “You… you do?”

The Red Rowdyruff nodded, sure as anything. The woman’s protective instincts kicked in immediately. “Melvin, you know him?”

Brick’s voice gained confidence as the pieces fell together. “Giant rock monster, downtown DC, maybe three months back. You were there. Red costume, towel cape. Ran when we showed up.”

The boy nodded eagerly. “That’s me! Well, big me. I’m Melvin. Melvin Grimes.” A half-second later, his smile fell off, cheeks going bright red. “Oh. Oh no. I didn’t run! I was… I was making a tactical retreat!”

Butch snorted loudly. “Melvin? Seriously? That’s somehow worse than that costume.”

“Butch,” Brick warned, while the woman—presumably Melvin’s mother—frowned.

Butch’s grin froze as his brain caught up to his mouth, green eyes taking in the kid in front of him a bit closer. “Hold up, you mean that huge lunkhead with the stick legs who bailed when we got there?”

“My legs aren’t stick legs!”  Melvin squeaked, face going redder at Butch’s comment. “And it’s not a beach towel, it’s a… okay, it’s a towel, but I didn’t have anything else and Omni-Man has a cape and I thought maybe if I tied it around my neck it would look more heroic and…” he trailed off to a whisper, twiddling his thumbs together as his face got as red as Butch’s hair.

The woman was staring at them with growing recognition, her face shifting from confusion to shock. “Wait. You’re… you’re those three young boys… I’ve seen you all over the news. Brimstone and… and the other two.” Said other two frowned a little at that, Butch more than Boomer, {But you’re here. In a government facility. You work for…”

She looked around the room, taking in the GDA logos, and audibly gulped.

Donald sighed deeply, accepting that his carefully planned private meeting had just become a group discussion. “Boys, since you’re here now and classification protocols have already been compromised… this is Melvin Grimes and his mother, Patricia.”

The cyborg secret agent lowered his tablet and nodded in the little boy’s direction. “Melvin will be joining the GDA Meta Corps as an Auxiliary Member to receive proper management for his new status as a metahuman. His operational designation will be—”

“Major Damage!” Melvin interrupted proudly, puffing out his chest in a way that made the oversized costume look even more ridiculous.

An awkward silence fell over the room as everyone processed the gap between the name and the scrawny kid wearing a towel cape.

“So wait,” Brick’s gaze drifted to his left as Boomer spoke up, the blond Rowdyruff floating closer with a look of pure curiosity shining clearly from his eyes as if written in neon blue marker, the sniffable kind Boomer liked, “you turn into that big guy but like how though? You need some spinach like Popeye? You go all big and muscly when you get scared o—”

“Aliens.”

Boomer blinked, brain freezing as he tried to understand that, the single word from Melvin enough to shut him up before he could go even further into his imagination.

“Sick!” Not one to be silenced, Butch had his own questions, a grin on his face just as eager as Boomer had been curious. “Like what, you half-alien? Or like… half-of-half?” Butch offered after a near second of thought, Brick mentally sighing as he realized his brother had forgotten the word quarter. “What’s the deal, Melvin?”

Melvin blinked at that and looked up at his mom, a question clear on his face.

“No, Melvin Ulysses Grimes,” the second adult in the room said firmly, hand tightening its grip on her boy’s shoulder, “your dad was a soldier, not an alien. We’ve had this conversation seven times already, young man.”

Melvin turned back to the boys, a weird grin spreading across his face as he let out this laugh that was just as shaky, if not more awkward than before. “Right, so… the alien guys abducted me from my bedroom with like a tractor beam, y’know, and stuffed me in a lab and stuff. Didn’t hurt…” Melvin pulled a face, that awkward smile disappearing as he seemed to think back, “but it did feel weird, kinda. Now, I can… I mean, when I get really mad or scared or whatever, I turn into this big guy. But like…” His voice trailed off, fingers fidgeting with the edge of his towel cape. “It’s not… I can’t really control when I change back and sometimes it happens at really bad times and—”

“So it really was you,” Brick said, cutting him off, studying the boy with that look he got when he was analyzing something interesting. “Same consciousness? No personality changes when you transform?”

Melvin shook his head quickly. “Nope, just me but bigger. And stronger. Like, super strong. I can lift a tank! Well, I think I can. I’ve never actually seen a tank but one time I picked up this bus when it got stuck in the snow and—”

“You’re not special, pffft,” Butch muttered, rolling his eyes so hard his whole head tilted. “Try doing that as soon as you’re born.”

His mother let out a low sigh, one hand cupping her mouth. “I’m just glad to have him back home. I didn’t recognize him… considering… well, you know what he looks like. Some strange muscleman saying he’s your little boy…” Melvin’s face screwed up, looking sad at his mother’s words even as she held him tighter. “Even after he came back, it’s just that… well, the transformation happens spontaneously sometimes, especially when he’s excited or scared.”

“Like during that math test last week,” Melvin added. “Ms. Peterson was not happy about the desk. Like, sometimes I change at really bad times.”

“Like mid-fight times or like mid-shower times?” Butch asked, as blunt as a rock to the back of the head

“Young man!” Patricia snapped again, her face reddening.

As red as his mother’s face was, Melvin was pretty much indistinguishable from a tomato as he squeaked out a quiet, barely-audible, “Both.”

“So all of you boys… you’re really part of this… this GDA thing?” Melvin’s mom asked as she regained her composure, eyes roaming over all three of them, costumes included as Butch flexed and winked in her direction. “But you’re just children. How is that legal? How is any of this legal?”

Donald cleared his throat. “The Global Defense Agency operates under special international oversight for Modified Human Management and—”

Brick waved Donald off as he looked at the woman. “Long story short, they’re called the Mhhhmmm Protocols. Basically the GDA can do whatever they need relating to super-people and shrug it off as long as they can justify it and it’s not too egregious or harmful to the public or citizens as a whole. Stuff like payment, housing, equipment, imprisonment, training…”

Melvin’s excitement was building visibly. “Real superhero training? With you guys? Like actual training where I learn how to control the transformation and fight bad guys properly?”

The boys shared looks, triplet telepathy sparking as they all knew what they were already thinking about adding this guy to their group.

“We’ll see how you handle the training regimen,” Brick said carefully. “It’s not exactly summer camp.”

“Don’t worry, we’ll help!” Boomer said encouragingly. “Brick’s really good at explaining the tactical stuff and Butch knows all about fighting and I can help with the technical equipment and—”

“Just don’t expect us to go easy on you because you’re new,” Butch added with a grin. “You wanna be a bad-ass, you gotta earn it.”

Patricia’s eye twitched at Butch’s verbiage, the woman placing a second hand on her son’s other shoulder as if to pull him back from bad situations and worse language. “He’s still just ten years old. This seems like an awful lot for a child to handle.”

“Age becomes less relevant with enhanced capabilities,” Brick said honestly, a smirk on his face. “We were fighting at five.”

“Because we were made for it,” Butch added. “Different situation, but still.”

Melvin’s determination was evident in every line of his small and scrawny body. “I want to help people. Like you guys do. When I saw that monster coming out of the ocean, I couldn’t just stand there and watch. Even if I don’t really know how to control it yet.”

Butch studied him for a moment, then nodded with something approaching respect. “Alright, Major Damage. Let’s see what you got.”

As they prepared to leave, Boomer turned back to Melvin with sudden excitement. “Hey, do you like anime? We were just talking about which ones are best and there’s this really cool one called Zatch Bell where this kid gets a spell book and—”

Melvin’s face lit up, big blues almost expanding to the full size of his glasses. “I love anime! Especially the ones with transformations! Like Sailor Moon where she gets all the different power-ups, or—”

Butch’s hands slapped themselves firmly on his face. “Please god, nooooo.”