19786/Scrap Patrol

Scrap Patrol
Date of Scene:	01 January 2025
Location:	Basement
Synopsis:	Cliff is a head missing its body. Ted and Audra perform a sketchy cyber-surgery in a spooky basement. Larry helps, despite himself.
Cast of Characters:	Ted Kord, Cliff Steele, Larry Trainor, Audra Meridian

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Ted Kord has posed:
Ted Kord makes house calls. He is also available to anyone in the superhero and superhero adjacent communities for tech support. Thus when he got a terse text to come on down and repair Robotman, he jumped into action. Actually he flew the Bug. He judged the driveway in 'Doom Manor' was large enough to accommodate his craft and put it down, legs straddling the sides of the car port. Hopping out, he went up to the front door, which opened at his knock. It came complete with a creak which it demo'd as it swung in.

"Not ominous at all. HALLOOOOOO! Blue Beetle here! I understand you have a sick robot man? Where might he be? HelloooooooACK!" The ack comes from a small hovering bot that bumps against Ted.

"Bongo, for fuck's sake... personal space... and make with some light!" Ted proceeds, Bongo slipping a manipulator into his hand. Ted undoes the flap on his BB Gun. "I'm fr too trusting, Bongo. I keep expecting Vincent Price to lunge at me." Ted spots a post it with an arrow, then another, then another.

Cliff Steele has posed:
As Ted makes his way into the water-stained basement of the creaky old georgian manorhouse, the room is poorly lit by industrial fluorescent overhead strips and cluttered with ancient shelves and cabinets packed to the brim with beakers, tubes, midcentury electronic parts and worn-out furniture. In the center of this hoarders palace is a large, well-used wooden workshop table, upon which a disembodied robot head rests on its side, the apish mug turned towards the warm glow of an old TV.

"Larry? Larry, is that you? LARRY!"

With a little jaw-action the head comes to life at the sound of groaning stairs, wobbling with all the excitement a detached head with limited points of articulation can muster.

"Oh, thank God you're here! Took you fucking long enough! If you're not going to get off your lazy butt and call some super-dork to get me fixed the least you can do is handle the clicker, okay, pal? Been stuck watching a Secret Hearts marathon and I think I'm losing my goddamn mind."

Ted Kord has posed:
Ted Kord enters the basement. He regards the head squarely for a moment and then enunciates, "Bwaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!!!" Bongo flees back up the stairs!

Cliff Steele has posed:
"Hey! Hey! Who the fuck is that? God damn it!"

The iron jaw of the copper cranium pumps furiously, fruitlessly attempting to pivot in place, snapping like a turtle between bellows.

"Is that one of those Toobers that April was warning me about? Answer me! Or at least change the channel on your way out! I'm dyin here!"

Ted Kord has posed:
Ted Kord finds the light switch and regards the robot head now illuminated. He pats his heart, then holds up a finger to pause the conversation. "Bongo! Get the fuck down here. Now!" The disc shaped bot hovers by the door. "Stop burning crop circles in the linoleum and get down here or I'll replace you with a Roomba!" The bot descends slowly.

"So... uh... I think it was Larry texted me to reattach a robot man. Are you the bot in question? Man you got quite the speech programming in you. Are you one of Magnus' bots or Ivo or what?" He approaches closer. "Where's you owner? This is pretty irresponsible, leaving you here like this."

Cliff Steele has posed:
"Uh, slow down, geek. First off, why don't you find your way into my range of vision--there you go--and, uh, thank goodness its you, ah... ahh... Blue Boomer? Is that right? It feels right."

The dented dome guffaws like a high school bully.

"I didn't even know Larry could text with those fat mummy fingers of his. And yeah, okay, you're right--it is irresponsible to leave me like this. YOU HEAR THAT, LARRY?"

"But anyway, newsflash, dork: the only programming I got was what we could pick up on bunny ears. This here is a gen-u-wine, one-of-a-kind, Frankenstein job by one Niles Caulder, aka the Chief. We're talking a pickled brain in a steel frame."

The red orbs of his eyes flare appraisingly.

"You sure you're up for the challenge, buckaroo? Cause you two look like you came for the Scooby snacks, not to solve mysteries."

Ted Kord has posed:
Ted Kord glares and says, "Who the fuck are you calling 'geek'? It's Blue Beetle, not Boomer. I'm in the Justice League!! No Bongo!! I had it with being the Wil Wheaton of the suer set." He takes a breath. "This is Bongo by the way... Bongo put down the remote. Go get the tool kit."

"Why the hell are you Robotman if you're a cyborg?"

"Am I up to it? Well you got a robotics expert here, I don't really deal with pickled brains. The major system in your body and control cables... no problem... this body right? I can reattach your head pretty sure. I'm concerned more about nutrient feeds, life support. You got some schematics I can bone up on before I start... hang on... she found a porn channel... she acts like this stuff is engineering research. Gimme that goddam remote!"

Larry Trainor has posed:
"'Cause the players gonna play play play play play and the haters gonna hate hate hate hate hate..."

Two floors up from the basement, the sound of a 1970s model of Kirby upright vacuum cleaner can be heard. The wheels are more or less silent as the vacuum is pushed forward along the rug, only to become very loud and grating when pulled back all the way off the rug to run across the wooden floor. The slightly grinding whine of the electric motor makes it obvious that the vacuum has seen better days, but still seems to be doing an adequate job of filling it's large chartreuse-colored cloth bag with the contents of the floor.

Such contents are fairly minimal, given the nearly immaculate state of the room. But then Air Force Captain Larry Trainor is well-known among the denizens of Doom Manor for having the cleanest of rooms.

As he pushes and pulls the vacuum across the floor, Larry sings along with whatever music is being pumped into his earhole courtesy of the vintage Sony headphones. His voice, however, is almost entirely drowned out, both due to the muffling effect of his gauze bandages, and the very loud whine of the old vacuum.

Finally, the floor is clean enough for his squared away standards, and he flicks the mechanical switch on the vacuum's handle. The grinding whine ceases, and the cloth bag appears to deflate. Looking around, Larry seems to be satisfied with the results, though it's hard to tell what a man is feeling when his entire head is wrapped up like a mummy.

"Shake it off, shake it off... I-I-I shake it off, I shake it off..."

Cliff Steele has posed:
"Oooohhhh, the Justice League! Watch out now, the big boys have come down from their fucking moonbase to grace little old Cloverton! Never mind that we've been dooming it up since '95, you johnny-come-latelys! And what, you think I chose that stupid codename? Of course not--its completely lame! Never should've let them talk me out of Cliffasaurus."

Cliff's eyes blink indignantly before there is an audible exhalation of breath--or at least an approximation thereof.

"Okay, we've worked on this, Cliffy. De-escalation. Come on."

When the head speaks next it is in a more forced-friendly tone, clearly aware of the necessity of being polite, given the circumstances.

"Bongo's cute, I guess. C'mere, little buddy, let me take a look at you--or you could do that! Just don't confirm the charges... oh, come on! That's going to show up on the bill, and you know who's going to answer for it? Me."

Ted Kord has posed:
Ted Kord chuckles. "Yeah sorry, you scared the hell out of me, I'll admit. And sorry in '95 I was five. Anyway... my people name is Ted. Nice to meet you, Robotman. Anyway plans. This Niles Caulder leave any notes? Or was he a traditional mad scientist? Ah wait here we go. So where is this Larry with his fat mummy fingers? He could have stuck the remote in your mouth or somethin..." He gets the remote away from Bongo. The channel is flipped to soccer. "Here ya go... 90 minute game ties at 1-1. Careful, you nearly tackled that other guy!" He peruses the plans. "There is some weird shit in here which I will stay away from. But I can run all the life support and control lines... Bongo, go get Audra from out the Bug. I need a couple more hands for this, maybe you can find this Larry too?"

Audra Meridian has posed:
After a few minutes a voice can be heard talking to Bongo. "Okay so is this the secret dungeon kind of basement or the mad science lab kind?" Not that she entirely understands the bots' language but talking to one of them is better than talking to herself. Boot heels thud on the stair steps, Audra getting most of the way down before pausing to look around. "Both. This feels like both kinds... Hey Ted. What did you find that you needed immeadiate assistance with?"

Larry Trainor has posed:
"My ex-man brought his new girlfriend, She's like 'Oh my god!' but I'm just gonna shake..."

As he steps out of his room into the cold, perpetually drafty hallway of Doom Manor, Larry pulls his old fur-lined coat up over his arms and adjusts the lapels. It's a strange look... The Invisible Man meets Twelve O'Clock High, but though his paramilitary attire might seem an odd choice, Larry manages to make it look fairly dapper.

Stopping by one of the large picture windows in the hallway, Larry looks out across the lawn of Doom Manor, which could stand to be trimmed, he realizes. But he quickly realizes that something is amiss. For one thing, there's a large blue insect-shaped vehicle parked next to his bus.

"RITA! Why is there a spaceship in our driveway?"

No response.

"RITA!?"

No response.

"Dammit... I hope they're here about the termites."

Cliff Steele has posed:
"Oh my God, do not call me Robotman! I just told you I hate that shit! Cliff's the name, Cliff Steele--you might've heard of me? No? Won the Winston Cup in '74? Well, your dad knows, ask him."

"As far as Larry goes, you fuckin got me. Maybe out in the garden, working on the azaleas, or mixing up Rita a martini, but most likely staring out his window being a fucking downer."

As Ted pokes around, the tech is... not exactly that. There's a nutrient tank, probably a cast-off prototype from the space program, but no air supply. Plus, there are... things inside that serve no clear purpose. Why, for example, are there vintage race trading cards stuck to the walls of his chest?

"How's it looking in there, Doctor Ted? Just a quick patch weld and we'll be back in order, right?"

Ted Kord has posed:
Ted Kord looks over the plans. He points a couple areas to Audra. "We're welding here, and here. Reinforce those struts. What the fuck Cliff, did your stick driving behind the Hulk. Who did this to you? I mean I can fix what's broke, Oh, this is Windrose. She does wiring work really well. We can fix this. There's some stuff that's just... weird. I'm not going near it. You don't start redoing stuff without knowing why it works that way. I'd like to redo some welding. It looks like the welder learned it from Youtube. Bongo, power up the laser welder. We'll do the wiring while it powers up. I need a #5 spanner, Bongo." He pulls hos hood back though the goggles stay on. "Fucking trading cards... sympathetic magic maybe. Hell, I'm a pilot and I can tell you, we're superstitious as fuck all."

Audra Meridian has posed:
"Well, a talking head isn't the strangest thing I've ever seen. Hello." Audra then glances over at the plans Ted's found. "So it's like patching up armor and infrastructure, just it's part of the actual body." She squints. "Uh, yeah, lets stick to just the mechanic stuff. I know weird not entirely science stuff when I see it."

She pauses to pull her goggles down over her eyes. Both for safety, and for the magnifecation settings for working with very small and delicate things. Like wiring.

Larry Trainor has posed:
A lack of response is fairly typical within Doom Manor. It is, after all, primarily a convalescent home for misanthropes. With no response from anyone, Larry is forced to use his own resources to get any information. Generally, this would result in him giving up immediately. But for some reason, he puts in enough effort to reach into his pocket, and pull out the old Motorola flip phone that he generally uses only to play Centipede.

Walking toward Doom Manor's main entrance, he scrolls down the old text messages, only to find that there is something new in the text history. Someone, unbeknownst to him, has sent the following message:

'do u fix robots?'

And the last message in the exchange is simply:

'k c u then'

Closing the phone angrily, Larry shoves it back in the pocket of his knee-length bomber jacket, and curses under his breath.

"Dammit! I told you to stop using my phone! You need to respect my boundaries!"

Whoever he's talking to, there is no answer. But moments later, one heavily-bandaged former test pilot is in the elevator, making his way down to the basement level.

Cliff Steele has posed:
"Wait, my fucking trading cards are in there? Shit, man, I've been looking for those since I got here! You're telling me the Chief pasted them inside me like a goddamn school locker? Jesus fucking Christ, this janky-ass bullshit-ass broken piece of shit robot body! Arrrrgh!"

Well, that escalated quickly. But, before there's even a reaction the rambling robo-dome is already deflating, regret clear in his voice as he offers, "Uh, sorry if there's a smell in there? Sometimes critters nest in my body when I'm not paying attention, stinks up the whole works."

Our readers will note that the stench is, in fact, quite pungent, best described as similar to that of unsealing an old oil drum.

"Hold on, Bongo speaks? Uh, hi Bongo. Solidarity, I guess? Anyways, yeah, it was the Juggernaut and some terrorist jerk-offs with a ponytailed leader straight out of central casting. I woulda had Juggs on the ropes if they didn't sucker-punch me with an extremely online hex or some shit. I, like, totally entered the Matrix."

Ted Kord has posed:
Ted Kord says, "Bongo texts me, through my goggles. My bots are not big talkers. But she understands English perfectly. Oh there she goes, sorry!" Bongo flies over to the rest of Cliff, deploys a small hose and begins spraying disinfectant. Generously. She removes a mouse after a moment and looks for a place to dispose of it. she decides on catch and release. It scoots away.

"Yeah... uhm I got your nutrient hose hooked back up and Juggernaut is a dick. I've dealt with him. He was ready to duke it out over a downed satellite. I gave him a finder's fee. I paid way less than the usual fee. Thinks he's so smart. Hey Cliff, if anything we do to you doesn't feel right just give a yelp... my gosh that sounds terrible. Audra how are you doing?" Bongo produces a heart sticker, shows it to Cliff and sticks it in his torso.

Audra Meridian has posed:
"The Juggernaut? Yeah that explains a lot.... Uuugh. No offense, but it really does reek. Hold on. I don't know how much of this you can feel, but hopefully it won't sting too much," she remarks as Bongo goes about airing out his insides. Not enough to get rid of the stank but at least make it a bit more bearable deal with. She gets a pair of protective work gloves out of a pouch of her belt, as her gauntlets aren't really made for finess work. Then takes a look inside once Bongo is done.

"Yeah, I can see the stress points that are going to need re-enforcement. God damn, considering it was Juggernaut, I'm impressed you're not in more pieces... Thanks." She takes the laser welder and gets to work. Got to have the structural integerty shored up before they poke too much at more delicate innards.

Larry Trainor has posed:
The elevator seems to be struggling, despite the fact that it's headed downward. Much like Robotman, it could probably use some maintenance. But then, the entire manor could use some maintenance. Or maybe just a bulldozer. But modern buildings don't have the same charm, and a modern elevator wouldn't have the same quaint 'ding!' that this one does when it finally reaches the basement level.

As the doors open, the tracks simultaneously squeak and grind. Stepping out of the elevator, another genuine relic appears. This one's an actual American hero, but he doesn't get recognized as such very often. Or ever, actually. The clack of his boots on the concrete can be heard, until the Negative Man appears, darkening the doorway as he pokes his head around, peering into the room where the maintenance is being done on his teammate.

"Hey."

A brief pause.

"Are you guys here to rob us?"

Cliff Steele has posed:
"Sorry, sorry! Maybe you could, like, leave an air freshener in there?"

"Wait, okay, I think I got it figured out now--there's Ted, Bongo, and... Audra? Who's Audra, exactly? Are you telling me an intern from Justice League Jr is working on my shit?"

The cussing cranium strains to see who's getting inside of him.

"Look, just be careful, okay? I know my shit sucks but it still is, in fact, my shit. You feel me?"

"And don't worry--I haven't felt a goddamn thing since... since a long fucking time ago, so feel free to get all Dr. Mengele up in there, won't bother me none."

DING!

"Hey, hey! Lar-Bear! If it isn't the hero of the hour! Really pulled through for me there, pal, thought you were going to leave me down here to rust! Folks, I am proud to present the one, the only, Larry Trainor, all-American test pilot and one righteous dude."

Ted Kord has posed:
Ted Kord looks up from some splicing. "I done worse and your shit doesn't suck. It's vintage... and unique. I'm glad I can help you... I mean there's always improvements to be made. But... not by me. I can do the basics but there's a lot to you I can't fathom. I mean I have stuff in Bongo here I keep quiet about and... I have no idea why my bots became self aware. They're more like my kids at this point. Pretty wild... your Caulder made a person into a bot and I make bots into people." He pauses a moment. "They got between me and Power girl and the Manhunter at one point. They thought they were attacking me. They're good people. Bongo... leave that remote alone! Make sure Cliff has a full tank."

"When you get back on your feet, you come to the city and I'll let you drive my Buggatti if you want. Oh hey! You must be Larry, I'm Ted Kord!" Ted extends a hand, watches the rem detector in his goggles rise.

Audra Meridian has posed:
"Me. I'm Audra. Aka Windrose." She holds up a hand in a wave when she realizes that Cliff's head could hear but not see her, partially because she's on the other side of his body working. "And yeah, we can probably find a couple of air fresheners or something." She grimaces a little at the 'not feeling anything'. That kind of sucks. Sure pain also sucks, but it is kind of part of what makes being human what it is. Fortunately for Cliff she's the sort of person that's going to be careful regardless of pain tolerance so he doesn't have to worry about her work being rushed just because he wouldn't feel a difference.

She gets back to work on doing the fabricating part of repairing the body. "No robbery, just making the scientific equivilent to a house call." She mmms. "Bongo, can you find me a piece of metal say about the size of a ruler? There's a strut here buckled in, likely from impact, it'd probably be best to just replace other than try to bend it back into shape."

Larry Trainor has posed:
Still lurking just outside the door, leaning in with only his head and a portion of his upper torso visible, the all-American test pilot and righteous dude lifts a gloved hand up to give a lazy wave.

"Right. The people that I contacted on purpose to fix you are here."

Behind a pair of goggles, it's impossible to tell for sure what Larry is looking at, but at the very least his bandaged head moves from left to right, looking at both Audra and Ted long enough to be polite. And then his torso starts disappearing as he begins sliding back into the hallway, apparently done with this particular interaction.

But there's an offered hand, and Larry isn't an animal. He takes a few steps forward into the room, and takes Ted's hand briefly. He's got a firm, old school sort of handshake. Too bad his hand is covered in layers of radiation-blocking gauze and leather.

"Thanks for fixing up Cliff. He's... a cherished acquaintance."

Awkward pause.

"Can I grab you something? I think we have a box of Cracker Jacks in the kitchen somewhere."

Cliff Steele has posed:
"Well, aren't you Mister Positive? But yeah, the Chief's okay sometimes, I guess."

As the Blue Beetle explains his own robo-domestic drama, Cliff groans intemperately..

"Ohhh, here comes Ted with the name drop! Can Christmas with Supes and the Bat be far behind? Sheesh, pal, I appreciate your help--truly I do--but there's no need to flex. We're all in this crappy basement together, inevitably brought here by a series of bad life decisions. I don't know what yours are, but you don't see Reed Richards cleaning out the old shitbox, so I can only assume they weren't great. Still, you need someone to take your, ah, Bug-gatti out for a spin, you'll find no finer--"

There goes Ted to make introductions and here comes...

"Ah, there's Audra! Windrose, that's nice--like something airbrushed on the side of a van. You, uh, like this line of work? The Beetle treat you all right?"

Ted Kord has posed:
Ted Kord says, "Oh fuck that noise, Cliff. PG and MM were being dicks, trying to shut down my bots. They thought they were going to lead a ro... machine uprising. The JL keeps me around to fix their cablevision and do monitor duty. It's cool. You gotta pay your dues I guess,"

"Sorry about that, Larry. Cliff pushed my button mentioning the JL. I have mixed feelings but... that duster is epic. Are you a pilot? I've been flying all my life."

"Oh, Cliff you can get up whenever you want after Audra finishes." Bongo looks a little... studious. A small hatch opens on her side and a bar is slowly extruded for Audra's repairs. "Oh yeah, I put a mini-printer in her."

Audra Meridian has posed:
"That's super convenient." Audra accepts the bar as it extrudes out of the bot's port. "Thanks' Bongo."

Then turns back to work, cutting out the broken portion of strut and then welding the new piece into place. Nice thing about laser welders is there is less sparks crackling about, but you still gotta be careful about the bright flashes. "I have no complaints about having someone I can actually talk science and technical stuff with and not have to translate all of the technobabble into normal english. But yeah, I'm a storm chaser by profession and inventor by necessity, so I do a lot of my own building and tweaking of things."

After finishing up she takes a step back, and pats around her belt before finding one of the classic little pine tree fresheners. "Good thing I keep extras handy for my truck." She hangs it inside Cliff's metal body and steps farther back out of the way. "I think that's most of what I can do without mucking in the weird not science bits of it."

Larry Trainor has posed:
"Yeah... I was a pilot."

Say whatever else you want about Larry Trainor, but he's definitely not an over-explainer. Putting his hands in his pockets, he seems to be only moderately interested in the progress on his teammate's repair job. But it seems that the Doom Patrol's heaviest member will be stomping around the manor soon enough. The very thought seems to make Larry cringe reflexively. The peace and quiet the past few days has been nice.

"Well, looks like you've got it under control. I need to go water my plants."

He turns to leave, and even takes a step away, before a thought strikes him. Pausing, he turns his head back partially, holding up a single finger as the idea comes to him.

"You know... if putting his body back together is too much work, maybe you could just attach his head to a vacuum cleaner? I've got an extra one."

"It's an Electrolux."

He adds with a sense of pride.