[center][b][u]3:53 PM, October 30th Kasimir Castle; Gotham City, New Jersey[/u][/b] [color=2E2C2C]'... Whoops. Looks like I overshot the memory jump... So much so we came right back around to his teenage years. I'll keep trying.'[/color][/center] [b][color=black]"Mom, I'm ho-"[/color][/b] David's usual greeting was cut off as he noticed dozens of children in his home. [b][color=black]"What the fuck?"[/color][/b] His backpack falling out of his hands, the young man stood in awe at the crowd of children. They barely paid him any mind, instead choosing to play or talk or eat from a large tray of snacks that was set out. [b][i][color=black]'... Okay, seriously, what is going on?'[/color][/i][/b] Surely there was a logical explanation for there being upwards of a hundred kids in his house, right? Right? [b][color=black]"I think Malcolm might've made mom want a lot of kids..."[/color][/b] He muttered to himself, before hearing a loud [b][i]CRASH![/i][/b] to his right. He broke into a sprint, heading towards the source of the sound and finding himself in one of the Castle's various studies. There, some kids were looking at the shattered remains of a bust, a panicked expression on their faces. [b][color=black]"Hey! Get outta here, scram!"[/color][/b] He shouted, and with that the children bolted out of the room as quickly as they could. David sighed, [b][color=black]"... Shit."[/color][/b] [color=orangered]"David..."[/color] Came a strained voice from above [color=orangered]"Hey... [i]Dave![/i] Up here!"[/color] Directly above the young teenager and completely flush with the ceiling, having wedged himself between a support beam and the wall about twenty feet up, and going red in the face from the effort to [i]stay[/i] up there... was Malcolm. [color=orangered]"...Little help?"[/color] [center][u][b]One Hour and Forty-Five Minutes Earlier...[/b][/u][/center] For the first time in a long time, Malcolm was... [i]relaxed[/i]; sitting cross-legged in an old, comfy chair in a warm, quiet room with an old book in front of him, and of course, [i]no one trying to murder him at that exact second in time.[/i] Last night was the first decent night's sleep he'd had in nearly a [i]year[/i], thanks to Zoey's quick thinking, sewing skills and being the kind of person that just had some lead plates lying around, and today the first day he'd simply just... [i]sat,[/i] having been nose-deep in the writings of Mark Twain since he woke up; The combination of his youthful imagination and his powerful metahuman brain having made reading an actual book a particularly engrossing experience as his mind's eye played the whole story out to him in incredible detail. ...Which goes some way towards explaining why the boy who could see for miles, through anything not made of lead, was caught off guard by a tiny fucking corgi that came barrelling into the room at mach-speed. [color=orangered]"What the Sam-Fuck!?"[/color] The small Bludhaven-boy cried out as he was unceremoniously yanked back into reality by the feeling of something small and fuzzy zooming past his legs, causing him to leap out of his chair like it was on fire. "I think he went this way!" [color=orangered][i]'Whowhat?'[/i][/color] Malcolm froze, staring straight ahead, out the window. That sounded almost like... a kid. A whole... [i]lot[/i] of kids, in fact, judging by the rippling soundwaves bouncing across his vision from behind. Slowly turning around, body steadily filling more and more with dread, he finally cast his metahuman eyes across the Castle's interior. [color=orangered][i]'Oh...'[/i][/color] Kids. Hundreds of them. Everywhere. Where they came from, none could say, but they were [i]everywhere.[/i] ...Including the hallway leading to this room. On a warpath, looking for a puppy. Idly, Malcolm's hand went to his neck, only to find his trademark welding goggles absent for the first time in [i]months[/i]. [color=orangered][i]'Oh that's not good...'[/i][/color] [center][u][b]One Hour and Forty-Three Minutes Earlier...[/b][/u][/center] [color=orangered][i]'Okay Mally, don't freak out. Once they find the dog, it'll bolt again, they'll chase it, and you can come right back down and sneak out...'[/i][/color] A sound plan. A good plan. One that would surely have worked... had the corgi puppy in question not immediately flipped over on it's back and whined for belly rubs the second the invading children found it on the floor directly beneath where Malcolm was hiding. [color=orangered][i]'Oh, fer...'[/i][/color] [u][b]One Hour Earlier...[/b][/u] "Hey, guys! Come play with the dog!" "Aww, he likes you!" [color=orangered][i]'Ker, could you stop being a slut for [b]FIVE. FUCKING. MINUTES?'[/b][/i][/color] [center][u][b]Thirty Minutes Earlier...[/b][/u][/center] "He's so cute when he's sleepy..." [color=orangered][i][b]'AAAAHHHHHH!'[/B][/i][/color] [center][u][b]Now...[/b][/u][/center] [color=orangered]"Dude... seriously... gonna need'ja ta catch me..."[/color] Malcolm groaned, his body shaking in protest and beads of sweat coming off his head. David was still stunned at the fact that there were so many kids in the house. Now he was even more stunned that his new brother was currently hanging onto a pillar for dear life. [b][color=black]"How the hell did... Nevermind, just jump and I'll catch you."[/color][/b] [color=orangered]"Thank... fuck..."[/color] Was all Malcolm could grunt as he abruptly let go and plummeted straight down towards his foster-brother of one day, wincing, and eyes shut as he mentally braced for the possibility of making a red stain on Zoey's nice carpeted floor. David braced himself, catching Malcolm and nearly falling over, his knees buckling from the added weight. [color=black][b]"Hurk! Man, you are heavier than I thought you'd be..."[/b][/color] David muttered, before setting Malcolm down. [color=black][b]"So why were you up there? It's not like... Oh, right."[/b][/color] David stopped himself, upon remembering his foster brother's glowing orange eyes. [b][color=black]"... Why don't we head out for a bit, until this whole... Thing, gets sorted out?[/color][/b] Making a pained sound as he flapped his arms to get the feeling back in 'em, Malcolm took a minute to answer, after a long series of muttered curses that were directed towards something that sounded awfully like 'fuzzy little slut'. [color=orangered]"...What'd ya have in mind?"[/color] Just a few minutes later, and the boys were driving out of the castle's driveway in David's new Camaro. [color=black][b]"Wanna go get something to eat or something?"[/b][/color] David asked Malcolm. Malcolm, this being only the [i]second[/i] time in a car in his entire goddamn life, almost didn't heard David's question from his current position on cloud fucking nine. [color=orangered]"Wait, what?"[/color] He started for a second, before his brain caught back up to reality [color=orangered]"Oh. Food. Hell yeah, I'm down to eat anything that isn't made of rat!"[/color] [color=black][b]"Sweet! We can head to Big Belly Burger, I heard they came out with some wings recently."[/b][/color] With that, all went silent for a short while. [color=black][b]"... Let's listen to some tunes."[/b][/color] David began to fiddle with the radio, going past several different stations. "-WOOP WOOP! THAT'S THE SOUND OF THE POL-" "-I'm Slim Shady, yes I'm the real Sha-" "Is this the real life? Is this just fantasy?" David paused, not changing the station any further, then grinned as he began to sing along to the song. Malcolm's head perked up at that, casting a raised brow towards his foster-brother as he began to sing... The sight of the other boy was kinda ridiculous in his mind, but after a second or two, a small smile began to break out onto his face; his unique way of comprehending the world, the tiny explosions in the engine, the soundwaves dancing from the stereo and even the neurons firing in Dave's brain painted a picture that... he didn't dislike, as he began to hum along to the tune and strum his hands along the dash to the beat. A hell of a thing, considering the kid comprehended the world as if it were constantly [i]on fire[/i]. [color=orangered]"What is this, anyway?"[/color] The younger boy asked after a while. Malcolm's question caused Dave's singing (and almost his driving) to come to a grinding halt. [color=black][b]"Dude? Have you [i]never[/i] heard Bohemian Rhapsody? Queen?"[/b][/color] A quirked brow met Dave's question. [color=orangered]"Bowman Whatnow?[/color] Malcolm asked, head tilting slightly [color=orangered]"Never owned a radio, Dave. No idea what'cher talking about."[/color] [color=black][b]"... Mal, this is a once in a lifetime experience. Your first time listening to Bohemian Rhapsody should send you to another planet, nay, another galaxy, [i]nay[/i], another universe. Let's quiet down now."[/b][/color] With that, David shushed up, allowing his foster brother to just listen to the song. [color=orangered]"Ooookay?"[/color] Malcolm started at that particular statement, but kept quiet as Dave requested, closing his eyes to just listen to the beat... of course, closing his eyes made no difference, considering his eyelids weren't made of lead, but it did help him relax. ...After a few seconds, his fingers began rapping on the dashboard again. His head began to bob side to side as the sounds thundered across his vision like art, his shoulders began to follow the motion of his melon and then, inexplicably, by something that could only be attributed to the perfect alignments of stars, planets and the will of a few gods, he began to [i]sing along[/i]. The ridiculous reaction-time of his brain synching to the lyrics as they poured from the speakers. [color=orangered]"I see a little silhouetto of a man..."[/color] David grinned, deciding to continue singing along as well. [color=black][b]"Scaramouche, Scaramouche, will you do the fandango?"[/b][/color] [color=orangered]"Thunderbolt and lightning, very, very fright'ning me!"[/color] Malcolm continued, with more fire now as his enhanced senses began to pump a healthy dose of endorphins into his brain at this newfound stimulus. [color=orangered]"Galileo!"[/color] [color=black][b]"Galileo!"[/b][/color] [color=orangered]"Galileo!"[/color] [color=black][b]"Galileo!"[/b][/color] [color=orangered]"Galileo[/color] [color=black][b]Figaro[/b][/color] [color=orangered]Magnifico[/color][color=black][b]-oh-[/b][/color][color=orangered]ohhh!"[/color] [color=orangered]"I'm just a poor boy, nobody loves me..."[/color] [color=black][b]"He's just a poor boy from a poor family, spare him his life from this monstrosity!"[/b][/color] There were a few seconds as both brothers played fake piano on the dash. [color=orangered]"Easy come, easy go, will you let me go-hooo?"[/color] [color=black][b]"Bismillah! No, we will not let you go!"[/b][/color] [color=orangered]"Let him go![/color] [color=black][b]Bismillah! We will not let you go!"[/b][/color] [color=orangered]"Let him go![/color] [color=black][b]Bismillah! We will not let you go!"[/b][/color] [color=orangered]"Let me go![/color] [color=black][b]"Will not let you go!"[/b][/color] [color=orangered]"Let me go![/color] [color=black][b]"Never let you go!"[/b][/color] [color=orangered]"Let me go-oh-ooooooh!"[/color] [color=black][b]"No! no! no! no! no! no! NO!"[/b][/color] Ferociously, Malcolm's fist rose to the heavens as if in scorn for the Gods themselves. [color=orangered][b]"OH MAMMA-MIA, MAMMA-MIA! MAMMA-MIA LET ME GO!"[/b][/color] [color=black][b]"Beelzebub has the devil put aside for me, fooor meeeee, fooor meeeeeeeeeeee-[i]eeeeeeeeeeeee[/i]!"[/b][/color] David sang, his voice cracking. It was just a few moments before that David had accidentally pocket-dialed Zoey. [hr] Steel-blue eyes cut away from the FBI Agent as a familiar buzz lit up against Zoey's hip, slender fingers retrieving the expensive black phone. A glance at the caller ID had a frown crossing her face before she held up a hand. [color=IndianRed]"Excuse me a moment, Agent Ramsey. My son is calling - no doubt wondering about... [i]this[/i],"[/color] For a moment she gestured to one of the small office's walls, out towards where the myriad of children were no doubt decimating some very expensive things. The billionaire slid her thumb across the screen and lifted it to her ear. [color=IndianRed]"Hello Da-"[/color] [color=black][b]"-fooor meeeee, fooor meeeeeeeeeeee-[i]eeeeeeeeeeeee[/i]!"[/b][/color] Zoey quickly brought the phone away from her ear, the singing coming from it easily heard in the small space. For a moment she could only stare incredulously at the speaker, just for the edges of her lips to twitch up as David's voice cracked. A soft chuckle built up in her throat hearing the music drifting in, the muffled voices of David and Malcolm singing along. Neither of her boys would be winning American Idol anytime soon. For a moment the vigilante could only stare fondly at her phone before finally hitting the end call button, having figured out quickly it was merely a "butt dial" as the kids say. At least her strays were getting along. [color=IndianRed]"... I'm sorry Agent Ramsey, you were saying?"[/color] [hr] David pulled into the drive-thru of Big Belly Burger, he and his brother wildly headbanging. [i]"Big Belly Burger, how may I help you?"[/i] [color=black][b]"Huh? Oh, right, uhhh, two orders of the Big Belly Buffalo Wings, and a large Coke. Uh, wait."[/b][/color] David turned to Malcolm, [color=black][b]"What do you want to drink, bud?"[/b][/color] [color=orangered]"Uhh..."[/color] Malcolm deadpanned a minute, brows knit in confusion at what he'd heard and what he'd been asked [color=orangered]"...Did you just order cocaine?"[/color] [color=black][b]"What? No! It's Coca-Cola, it's a soft drink."[/b][/color] David sighed, remembering that his new brother probably wasn't used to ordering food from fast food places. [color=black][b]"... How about a Sprite or something?"[/b][/color] [color=orangered]"I... guess?"[/color] Malcolm shrugged, clearly not knowing the correct answer either way. [color=orangered]"So long as it's not dirty water, I'm good."[/color] [color=black][b]"It's far from dirty water, my friend."[/b][/color] David turned back to the intercom, [color=black][b]"And a large Sprite."[/b][/color] [i]"Okay, that'll be $11.89. Please proceed to the next window."[/i] With that, David went to the next window, receiving and paying for the pair's food and drinks. He pulled into a nearby alley, pulling their food out of the bag and handing Malcolm his drink. The younger lad examining the cup with a comically perplexed look on his face. [color=orangered]"It's... [b]fizzy.[/b]"[/color] He finally said after a moment of staring and downright constipated-looking expressions... and then took in a gulp. There was another bit of silence from the boy as his head craned to the side and his lips smacked a few times. [color=orangered]"Holy fucking [i]shit.[/i]"[/color] [color=black][b]"Holy fucking shit is right."[/b][/color] David said around a mouthful of buffalo wing. He looked up, and spotted something peculiar in the rearview mirror. He saw the silhouettes of a group of men, all beating on another man on the ground. He nudged Malcolm, pointing at the mirror. [color=black][b]"... I see a little silhoutto of a man."[/b][/color] Very calmly taking a long sip of his drink and giving a satisfied sigh, the younger brother in question raised his brow at his elder for a second before carefully placing his food and drink down where it wouldn't fall over and make a mess. [color=orangered]"Scaramouche, Scaramouche..."[/color] He sang, popping his knuckles as an aggressively hooliganish sneer danced it's way onto his features. [color=orangered]"Will ya do the [i]Fandango?[/i]"[/color]