Project ROWDY 2-6

Too smooth for something moving this fast, Donny Ferguson couldn’t help it as he shifted his weight from foot to foot in the high-speed elevator. 

He couldn’t help it, all the static under the skin lately making it hard to ease up like he normally did when he was around this much cool and high-powered tech stuff. It definitely didn’t help that he was fifteen and all four of his limbs barely even fit right anymore, bones stretching just as fast as he was growing hair everywhere else.

Hair… His fingers twitched, hand inching toward his balls before a look at the only other person in the elevator kept him from digging into the itch in the middle of his cargos. The numbers above the door had a bunch of letters in front of them now — GDA-6, GDA-7, GDA-8.

Each one passed by with a soft-chime as his dad’s hand just sat there on the scanner, granting access to levels that didn’t exist if you looked at any public record.

Like a video game, Donny thought, going deeper into the dungeon, except this was real and his chest had been doing this low hum thing for weeks, ever since his dad finally said yes to bringing him here. Not the regular Pentagon they’d walked through upstairs with the tourists and the gift shop, but the actual Global Defense Agency that maybe a whole thousand normal people in the world knew was real.

“So the c-cybernetics,” his voice peaked, a half-crack to it making him sound a whole two and a half years younger. Donny felt himself wince, almost sighing before he spoke up again. “I mean, the implants, they’re like… fully integrated? Or is it more like, uh… advanced prosthetics?” 

Not like he knew much about the difference really. Apart from like sci-fi movies and video games and stuff, he’d pretty much picked up everything he knew about this stuff from Reddit the last couple days of research.

“Fully integrated, junior.” His dad turned, that tiny seam running along his jawline catching the light. The thing was barely visible but Donny had been looking for it ever since he’d seen his dad transform like Super-Patriot during the invasion. “Cybernetics or bionics is a bit old school, at least compared to what I’m built with. All of it’s interfaced directly with what’s left of my original brain tissue, too, a seamless connection.”

What’s left. He’d remembered the way his dad’s body opened up like a PC case, weapons and jet thrusters and hand cannons back then; it was insane to think of, and even more insane that he looked so normal when he wasn’t in full fight mode. “Thatssocool,” the words left his mouth in one breath, almost a whisper as he stared wide-eyed at his old man. “Do you dream in binary sometimes?”

Dad actually chuckled, out loud, which was rare enough that Donny’s eyes went even bigger behind his glasses “No, son. Though my sleep cycle is more regulated now. Eight hours on the dot. No more, no less.”

The elevator chimed again as they slid down past GDA-10, the air colder down here as he felt a charge in the air. Electricity and systems and so much data he could almost feel; it all made the hairs on his arms stand up, like touching one of those old big-box screens or rubbing a freshly blown-up balloon. “Dad, how deep does this go?”

“That’s cl…” His dad’s voice shifted, almost going serious for a second, before he caught himself. “Deep enough, son. Let’s just say the GDA has as much space as it needs for any specialized operations.”

Specialized operations. Which meant things he couldn’t talk about, probably shouldn’t have even hinted at, and Donny knew not to push. 

Finally… GDA-12.

The elevator slowed to a stop with a final chime; doors hissing open to a corridor that looked more like something off the new Star Trek movies than what the fifteen-year-old had ever expected from a secret government base. Donny blinked as he stared at floors polished enough to catch reflections as he took his first step out, his own skinny frame ghost-walking underneath him.

Shoulders back, chin up, and as soon as they left the elevator, his dad did that thing with his posture that made him go from Dad to Deputy Director Ferguson. Their footsteps echoed weird in the quiet as his dad gestured toward a glass-walled room where analysts sat monitoring screens. “This is one of our analysis rooms; it’s where we track, collate, and coordinate potential threats. This room specifically monitors the satellites that cover one of the quadrants of the southern hemisphere…”

He glanced left-to-right, looking at what had to be smart glass; every inch of the walls displaying all sorts of data streams that shifted as they passed. Donny’s hand drifted up to adjust his glasses even though they were fine..

“And Trinity works here?” The question came out with another squeak, Donny not even caring this time. This was the Team Trinity, they were each as strong as Invincible, and Invincible was like second-best to Omni-Man. 

Granted, there was a big space between the numero uno spot and Invincible, but second-place was still second-place.

“When they’re not in the field, yes.” He could almost hear the hesitation in his dad’s voice, the one that meant yes but don’t make it weird. “The boys have their own private suites in the GDA, including recreational areas, training spaces, and anything else they need to make them better at what they do. Director Stedman believes in providing…” 

His dad’s mirrored glasses made it impossible to see his eyes, but the look on his face didn’t exactly seem as happy as he’d been a second ago. “…a stable environment.”

Stable. The word bounced around Donny’s skull like an echo, because he knew what unstable looked like; back when he was still single digits staring at boxes in hallways, his mom crying in the kitchen and Dad gone for weeks at a time. 

His throat felt tight. The air down here really was colder.

They kept walking, Donny falling in sync with his dad’s perfectly spaced and mechanically rhythmic steps, until they came to a huge door, the thing sealed up tight.

The second they came close, though, the door slid open with a loud hiss, leaving them in front of a large pane of thick glass.

Donny blinked as sound hit him first; over-the-top announcer voice bleeding through as his brain caught up with what he was actually looking at. Tekken… 

He blinked again behind his glasses.Tekken X? 

The teenager wasn’t sure how, considering it wasn’t even out yet. All he’d seen was trailers, trailers that just came out barely a few weeks ago; literally just around the invasion. 

But no, it was that game, because he could see it.

Through the glass wall, four bodies were sprawled out on a bunch of bean bags in a giant white room in front of a movie-theater worthy screen. Three of them were small, younger than him maybe, but moving like they weren’t, as the two fighting-game characters on the massive screen went at it with next-gen graphics and physics.

His body leaned closer to the glass and with another hiss, the last barrier slid up like the door before it, Donny’s arms almost windmilling as he caught himself. What the…

“Boys…” His dad stopped at the door, one hand surprisingly light as it clapped on Donny’s shoulder and pulled him right back up.

One head turned first, toxic green eyes narrowed at him before it widened at the sight of his dad. “Fergie!”

“Mmmm…” His dad made a sound Donny had never heard before, a half-smile that didn’t look quite fake on his face for a split second before he spoke up again. “Boys, I’d like you to meet my son, Donald Ferguson Junior.“

Three more heads swivelled, controllers still moving but eyes all locked on the door, on him standing there with his hand halfway to adjusting his glasses that didn’t need adjusting.

Those green eyes went even wider. “Fergie Two!”

“Holy shit.” The words left Donny’s mouth before his brain could even try and stop it, a loud whisper that echoed in the hallway before the massive room swallowed it up.

“Language.”

Donny didn’t even look at his dad, legs frozen to the floor as everyone stared right at him. His fingers curled into palms, nails digging little crescents while his mouth tried to remember how words worked.

“I’m, uh…” It didn’t take him too long to remember but a bit longer for his mouth to catch up even still, “I’m, I’m Donny Ferguson.” He forced his eyes to track across the three boys, the ones who’d fought Omni-Man across the entire globe to save the whole world. “You’re… you’re Brimstone, right? And Blitzkrieg, and Breakneck?”

Three sets of eyes exchanged looks, equal parts apathy, amusement and annoyance staring right back at him.

Green shirt snorted and looked back at the screen, where some fat blond guy in a tracksuit was currently stomping the shit out of another fighter, a black dude with blond dreadlocks. “Dude, those names are corny as hell.”

Corny. He felt his heart drop into his stomach, unsure what to say to that.

Red shirt and mullet turned, blood-red eyes scanning Donny like he was already bored. “I’m Brick. The one picking his nose is Butch. The blur is Boomer.”

Butch flipped him off without looking, still hammering home the same down-stomp combo like the dreadlocks guy owed him money.

The blond one, actually waved, controller still gripped in his hand as he barely even paid attention to how badly he was losing. “Hey! Your dad’s pretty cool. He’s got the best pizza orders too.”

Taking that as his cue, his dad’s voice cut through from behind him, Donny turning around to see his old man already backing toward the hallway. “Donny, I’ll be in my office if you need anything. Try to… keep things calm.”

The door hissed shut as his Dad slid out, sealing them in behind glass and so many inches of thick steel with a final thud. Donny’s throat went tight as he stared back at The Team Trinity one more time, none of the boys paying him any attention as if he was just a nameless NPC.

…that’s kinda fair, though. They were literally the world’s most powerful superhero team. Who the hell am I?

Shaking his head, Donny’s eyes slid to the other person in the room apart from him and the boys, the teenager on a long couch-sized beanbag. Taller than Donny and definitely taller than Trinity, he wore a yellow t-shirt and hadn’t moved, hadn’t even said his name or anything. 

No, he just sat there with his shoulders curved like he was trying to stay unnoticed… but something about him… something tickled Donny’s brain. “Hey…”

The other teenager looked up, blinking grey eyes Donny’s way. “Huh?”

“Uh… no offense, but you look really…” his mouth was moving before the thought finished loading, “really familiar…”

The guy shifted, neck flushing red, as his eyes dropped down to his lap.

Bone-crunch sound effects rattled loud from hidden speakers as Butch snorted loud and finished off Boomer with a high kick that sent the other character into the air. “That’s Mark. Mark Grayson. You know… Invincible.”

What. Donny’s jaw dropped, actually hanging open as he felt his brain do a full system crash and reboot. Invincible.

Omni-Man’s son. 

The Invincible, right in front of him; the Invincible from the footage everyone had watched, the thing that made Donny’s stomach hurt for weeks.

Just sitting there, on a beanbag couch, like a normal person.

Boomer giggled, high-pitched and loud as he hid his mouth behind one hand. “Yeah, we call him Vince.”

“The h-hell, man?” Invincible’s head whipped around toward Butch, voice cracking right down the middle, then snapped right over to Boomer as red spread up from his neck and all over his face “And no, you don’t!”

The blond’s giggles burst past the hands over his mouth. “Yeah, we do.”

Brick threw his head back and sighed, before he turned around to look Mark dead in the eye, red to grey. “Marky-Mark…”

Invincible groaned again but Brick didn’t pause for a second. “His dad’s a super-cyborg and the second-biggest spook in the world. Your secret’s safe.”

“B-b-but privacy…”

“I could tell you what color underwear you have on,” Butch offered, “if that makes you feel better.”

Invincible’s eyes went wide again. “That’s in my file?”

Boomer giggled, finally looking away from the screen. “No, we just have X-ray vision. Nice choice on the blue, though.”

Mark closed his eyes, as he looked back at the massive screen with a long low sigh. “…I call next.”

Still too shocked to even say anything, Donny settled into a nearby beanbag chair, just watching the world’s most mighty do their thing as if they were just normal kids. Holy… holy fucking shit.

He was suddenly glad he no longer needed his inhaler anymore, because he was sure he’d be having an asthma attack right now. Holy…

“Boomer, you’re playing predictably,” Brick said, sighing as he watched  “Same combo three fights in a row. I’ve already mapped your input patterns.”

“It works, don’t it?” Boomer shot back, frowning as Eddy Gordo found himself stuck in another command-grab. “I’m doin’ fine.”

“I mean… not really?” his green eyed brother snorted his way, Bob pulling off an absolutely acrofatic combo on the big screen at his button-presses.

Mark just shook his head, leaning over as Donnny just kept staring. “They’re always like this. You get used to it, don’t worry”

“Uh-huh.” Donny didn’t have much else to say as he watched Butch take out Boomer a second time to make two out of three.

Soon enough, it was Mark’s turn and Donny wasn’t all that sure why Invincible had been so eager to be up next, especially against Butch.

Butch played with a raw, aggressive, button-mashing fury, throwing out heavy hits with Bob, while Mark was way more reactive with Jin as his main. It was clear Mark was outmatched, Jin’s health falling after another rush from Bob, and by the second match, it was pretty clear who was gonna take both wins again.

Donny leaned in close, the screen almost blurring as his eyes squinted up behind his glasses, tracking the fighters as he could almost see the individual hitboxes and frame data in front of him. Something was buzzing at the base of his skull, that electric feeling he got after too long in front of the same screen; instinctive and too-natural for something clearly not. Come on, Mark, just block, counter, do something, man…

It was almost sad watching it; two fights in a row and Mark’s fighter was backed hard into the corner, health bar flashing red as Bob worked Jin over with another combo.

Then the devilish fighter just moved.

Twenty hits in perfect timing, the kind of string that shouldn’t work unless you’d practiced it for hours in training mode. 

Except Mark definitely hadn’t.

Hell, the superhero’s hands weren’t even touching the controllower as Invincible was half-frozen mid-fumble simply trying to block a single hit. “What the…” Mark’s voice went high, staring at the screen like it had just called him a slur. “I didn’t… I-I didn’t even do that.”

Butch’s grin slid slow off his face at the sudden reversal, almost going the complete opposite direction until his eyes narrowed at the controller in Mark’s hands. “Dude, your hands weren’t even moving.”

Mark won but nobody was celebrating, the victory music looping awkward and too loud as every head in the room swiveled toward Donny.

“That was you.” The leader of Team Trinity didn’t say it as a question, somehow sounding both bored and pissed off at the same time as those red eyes looked at him differently.

Sweat broke out across Donny’s forehead, the AC all of sudden somehow nowhere near cold enogh for him. “I might have, uh, might have…” The words died in his throat, brain buffering as he went scrambling for something that could explain all that away. “I .. I don’t…”

“Might have what?” Boomer was floating now, actually hovering in the air a few inches off his beanbag, blue eyes huge as they locked on Donny. “What’d you do?”

Donny’s gaze dropped to his own hands, long fingers and knobby wrists that still didn’t feel like they belonged to him, not really. The words came out quieter than he meant but they came out anyway. “I can do weird shit with screens sometimes.”

Weird shit. Like that explained anything, like that made it normal.

The silence lasted a whole three seconds.

A very loud three seconds, loud enough that his heartbeat almost made Donny deaf.  

Then Butch’s face split into this massive grin, the kind that showed too many teeth. “That’s fucking awesome!” All the annoyance from losing was gone, evaporated by the sort of manic energy that was almost somehow more dangerous. “Can you unlock cheat codes? Can you, can you, like break the game?”

“Ooh, ooh, oooooh” Boomer was vibrating now, body suddenly a blur as he appeared right in Donny’s face, “can you like mod things in? Or, or, or like, uhhhh, new costumes, or or o-“

“Define ‘weird shit’ more specifically.” Brick cut in before his brother could get too hype. The redhead leaned forward, elbows on knees, as he gave Donny all his attention. “Is it localized data manipulation?”

Mark just looked relieved, shoulders dropping like someone had cut the strings holding them up, this exhausted smile spreading across his face. “Well, that makes way more sense than me getting gud all of a sudden. Welcome to the cape club, Donny.”

Club. A smile broke out on his face, an expression he couldn’t hide or stop; not that he really wanted to.

“It’s not really, like, conscious,” the words tumbled out, faster and faster the longer he let himself speak as confidence crept in where it hadn’t existed before. “It just happens when I’m really locked in on what I want the screen to do. Like…” 

He paused, fingers twitching. “Like the screen listens, y’know?” Donny licked his lips as he looked back at the screen. “Don’t tell my dad yet but…” 

The fifteen-year old reached out a hand toward the massive screen, something in mind that he’d been hiding for months now. “I can also, also do… this…”

Nothing happened for a second, just his hand hanging there looking stupid, as Donny’s face went hot.

Then the victory screen started to waver.

Pixels, tiny little squares of light, bleeding out from the screen like the TV was leaking, flowing toward his outstretched hand in this shimmering stream of thick light-blue chunks. The light swirled, liquid-solid-something, starting to pull together into a shape that wasn’t flat anymore, wasn’t stuck behind glass, three-dimensional and real and holy shit it’s working.

Boomer’s eyes went dinner-plate huge, mouth dropping open.

“OH. MY. GOD.”