Chapter Text
Despite how many times Dr. Coomer had said it, they had not, in fact, wiped out the entire US military. Now that he thought about it, the number of times Coomer had said that, being more than one, should have tipped him off sooner. Present Gordon was always getting fucked over by Past Gordon and he was really starting to hate that guy for being such a dumbass. Alas, Present Gordon was just as much of a fucking idiot as Past Gordon was, so what could he say?
Present Gordon was ripped from his righteous fury at that dumbass from two hours ago by a bullet whizzing over his head, parting the large, frizzy curls that topped his scalp. Right, in the middle of a firefight, admonishing his former self would have to wait.
He ducked down behind his cover again after that close brush with having his grey matter covering the walls. That would be very bad, to put it mildly.
“How many do we have?” Gordon yelled over the gunfire, not wanting to chance a peek over the barrier. He fired blindly around the side of the lab bench until the sound of bullets breaking floor tile came a bit too close to comfort.
“Eleventy three!” Dr. Coomer shouted with cheerful confidence, as he stood behind the lab bench across the aisle from Gordon. I say stood because that was literally what he was doing, his entire upper half completely in the open as he fired bullet after bullet.
Gordon heard a cut off grunt of pain, a distinct thud on the other side of his cover, and the clatter of a gun falling to the tile. His suspicion as to what had happened on the other side was confirmed by a very enthusiastic Bubby.
“Eleventy two!”
“Fine shooting, Professor Bubby!”
“Doc- oh shit!” There was a loud boom and a rush of heat from beyond the safety of Gordon’s lab bench shelter. Gloved hands slammed over his ears before he even realized he had reacted, a rolling thud bouncing over the bench, shaking his makeshift shelter.
He slowly took his hands away from his slightly ringing ears, peeking open eyes he hadn’t remembered closing, Gordon was met with a quiet room and a ash-blasted Benry laying stalk still on the floor.
Gordon couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up in his throat as the sight invoked the image of a cartoon character. He quickly stifled it, turning away without seeing the little smile on the guard’s face.
“-ok out, Gordon! Explosives!” Dr. Coomer cried belatedly, that unfaltering grin leaking into his voice. Gordon could hear the sound of Coomer’s fists hitting flesh and metal repeatedly, so he assumed it was safe to get up.
“Thank you for the warning, Dr. Coomer,” Gordon said, his tired tone sounding like he was telling an overly enthusiastic dog well done for catching the ball for the nth time.
Gordon only saw a pearly white smile in response, the rest of the scientist’s face utterly obscured, before the doctor was punching the corpse again. Dr. Coomer’s upper body was covered in soot, his face covered in the stuff to the point where Gordon wondered how the man could even see.
Gordon dusted himself off (ineffectually, of course, but it’s the thought that counts) as he looked around the room that had been filled with flying bullets less than a minute ago. He counted six dead bodies around the room, seven including the one that Dr. Coomer was hunched over.
Bubby was in the middle of putting on his glasses again after, presumably, cleaning the soot off of them. Gordon didn’t get the chance to catch a glimpse of Bubby’s eyes before the thick glass obscured them from sight. By this point, he wondered if the scientist even had eyes.
“I thought you said there were a lot more soldiers?” Gordon asked instead, checking a nearby corpse for more ammo.
“Hello, Gor- Yes! There were eleventy three! I counted,” Dr. Coomer said, standing up and stepping away from the body he’d been punching. Gordon doubted that even that soldier’s mother would be able to recognize his corpse’s face, given that it was now little more than a bloody pulp.
“Yeah, eleve- Hold on. Th- That’s not even a real number,” Gordon said, looking over at Coomer.
“Of course, it’s a real number, Gordon!” Bubby replied, “Everybody knows that! It comes right after eleventy two and before eleventy five.”
Before Gordon could even respond to that, Dr. Coomer asked him sincerely, “Gordon, are you lying about your doctorate again?”
“Wha-!?”
“Uh- um, guys?” Tommy’s tentative voice cut Gordon off, the hint of pain in the tone sending the young scientist into Dad Mode™️.
“Tommy? Where are you?” Gordon called, looking around.
“O- over here, Dr. Freeman.” Tommy waved a hand from behind a counter and Gordon came over immediately. Blood was splattered across his clothes, just like everyone else, with soot and grime coating the right side of his body. His short black-brown hair was blown to the left, the soot hidden in the dark hair. Tommy’s natural freckles were amplified by the ash peppering his face.
“Tommy!” Gordon cried, crouching down to inspect the other, “Are you okay? Does anything hurt?”
“I’m fine, Mr. Freeman. Not- Just hurts a bit,” Tommy replied stumbling over his words more than usual, “My head got hurts- hurt when- during the explosion and it’s kept- it still hurts a bit.”
Gordon gently turned Tommy’s head to see if there was any damage and his green eyes widened.
“Fucking god, Tommy!” Gordon yelped, examining the injury, “You’ve got a chunk of shrapnel in your head, man! How are you alive? This should have killed you!”
“I- I dunno, Mr. Freeman,” was all Tommy could say before Benry shoved Gordon out of the way.
“Wha-!? Hey, man! What do you think you’re-” Gordon shouted out.
Benry gave the shouting man no notice as he began to sing a teal-green beam of Sweet Voice onto the wound. The beam was quickly absorbed by Tommy’s broken skin, soaking in like a lotion. As he watched, Gordon could see the tension slowly leaving Tommy’s body as the healing soothed his pain. Slowly, ever so slowly, the chunk of metal began to push out of Tommy’s skull. It was almost disturbing to watch, but at the same time, Gordon couldn’t look away. The shrapnel moved inch by inch as if pulled by some unseen force, until it finally fell into Benry’s waiting hand.
When Benry stopped singing Sweet Voice, it was like Gordon was broken from a trance. In an instant, the ponytailed scientist rushed to Tommy’s side, investigating his head for any signs of injury. There was nothing. No scar, not even a hair out of place. All that indicated he’d ever been injured was the remnants of blood in his hair and the hand-sized hunk of metal that Benry held.
Gordon sat there, stunned, looking from Benry to Tommy and to Benry again. He looked like a fish out of water, floundering in his own mind to come up with words.
“I guess you really can heal people, huh?” He finally settled on, unable to keep the awestruck gratitude out of his voice.
“… wha?” Benry asked, blinking at the words, looking up at Gordon.
“Never mind, Benry.” Gordon sighed, getting up from the ground.
Benry followed, dropping the metal onto the tile. Tommy took Gordon’s offered hand, pulling himself up.
“Hey, man,” Gordon said, turning around to see Benry already walking quickly away, “How you doing, Tommy? Feeling alright?”
“Yeah. I’m as okay as- as a bug in a rug, Dr. Freeman!” Tommy said with a smile as they began walking as well, glancing quickly at the fatherly hand on his shoulder.
“I… I don’t think that’s how the saying goes, buddy.” Gordon’s voice held a fond chuckle. His eyes trailed over to Benry’s back, who was walking a few meters ahead of them.
“Do you…” Gordon began after a moment.
“Yes, Mr. Freeman?”
“Agh, never mind. It’s just-“ Gordon sighed. “It’s just, I don’t get him! One second, he’s making our lives miserable, the next, he’s saving yours! He’s a fucking enigma, Tommy. I don’t think I’ll ever understand what’s going on inside that head of his.”
Tommy took a moment to think, putting together his words as he watched Gordon stare at Benry.
“I think…” Tommy started, Gordon’s eyes turning to him again, “I think that you need to try to get- try to see things from his per- point of view, Mr. Freeman. Maybe you could even find something that- something in common.”
Gordon thought for a moment, going silent. It always felt like Gordon was a different person when he was quiet like this. Calmer, more focused, almost cold, and completely unreadable. It was almost like he’d left his body.
“Hurry it up, you two, or we’re going without you!” Bubby yelled back, breaking Gordon from his thoughts with a yelp.
Gordon ran up to the front of the group, taking the lead. The conversation with Tommy quickly took a backseat to making sure their little group didn’t die from the hazards that constantly surrounded them. He could think about it later.