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Colress is at home here among the machines—the hurried whirring, the fluttering blink of dot-sized lights, and the refrigerated room temperatures all feel like his habitat, if one were to assign such names. He could get lost in the towering hunks of hyper-intelligent metal, and if he never found his way out, he’d be at peace. This brand new laboratory he stands in is certainly different from the one he’d worked in during his time on the Plasma Frigate, but he can’t complain. All laboratories are beautiful things, no doubt!
He walks around the main room of the cavernous lab, taking note of data flickering on screens and reading printouts he passes by. Everything seems to be in order, he thinks.
It’s around this point that his lab partner stirs, though his movements can barely be heard over the buzzing ambiance. Colress chuckles lightly—in his own scientific stupor, he’d almost forgotten just who this fascinating facility belonged to! He pulls a document that has just finished printing from its dispensing slot and clears his throat.
“Denzel, my friend—these readings appear optimal, just as you’d predicted!”
Colress’ associate perks up at the report. He swivels around and stands to approach Colress, reaching for the paper. Colress hands it to him with a grin, waiting as the data is given another look over.
“Hmm, yes, optimal indeed…” mutters Denzel Crocker, glaring concentratedly at the paper in his hand. “With this kind of output, it should be all I need to create the ultimate machine! One that can finally capture and show to the world… Timmy Turner’s own…!”
“FAIRY GODPARENTS!”
As Crocker screeches those two words, twitching in time with them in morbid emphasis, Colress shrugs lightly. “Denzel, it would be kind of you to remember that it isn’t just you at the helm of this operation,” he chastises, taking the paper from Crocker’s now tightly-balled fist. “We are working to capture these fairies, no? Do recall that my contributions allowed you to solve those equations…”
Crocker grunts. “Yes, yes, I know,” he says dismissively, trudging over to a table littered with machine parts. “I don’t need you to start nagging me with reminders! Mother already does that enough!”
Colress adjusts his glasses thoughtfully as he joins Crocker at the table. “Oh, be kind to her, won’t you? Dolores is really a sweet woman.”
“That woman is a beast! A beast, I tell you! All she does is look for ways to ruin my plans. She wants me to see misery for the rest of my days!”
“Don’t be that way, Denzel. Dolores and I had a lovely chat over coffee the other day about the upcoming science symposium at Dimmsdale Town Hall,” Colress recounts, smiling. “She promised to get me in contact with some of the more notable scientists if I were to take her out again.”
“Stop taking my mother out on dates! That cougar will take any man she can get!”
Colress can’t suppress a laugh. “Denzel, really, you are too easy to fire up,” he jests. “You will need to keep yourself under control if we are to retrieve those fairies for examination, yes?”
For the most part, Colress likes to think that he’s past his days of total villainy—working with an absolute monster showed him the less ideal sides of the profession—but he also knows that science does not take sides. Science is science, and if one day he happens to end up in a strange world propositioned by an insane teacher to research a child’s fairy godparents, well, you only live once, right?
Truthfully, he isn’t sure how he ended up in Dimmsdale, but he ultimately chalks it up to another one of his Colress Machines malfunctioning. A good handful of them dabble in alternate realities, so if one shoots him somewhere he’s never seen before, it isn’t like it’s completely out of the blue. Either way, he was more than eager to explore new terrain (as well as the new creatures that came with it), so someone like Crocker, an expert in the field, crossing paths with him simply had to be more than coincidence.
From what Crocker has told him, there are magical fairies in this world, which he doesn’t have trouble believing. What he does find hard to believe is that Crocker only knows of two (whom both belong to a child of ten years) and wants to steal them in order to examine them… but again, Colress was always morally gray. So long as there are experiments to be had, he can’t possibly turn an opportunity like this down.
Colress is shaken from his reminiscence when Crocker begins cackling. “I’ve done it! This machine is complete!” he shouts triumphantly, holding up what looks like a medium-sized plastic storage container. Colress offers a small bout of applause.
“Very good, Denzel,” Colress says. “Now that we have finished everything up, shall we go test what we have created?”
Crocker looks wild—though his own inventions tended to fail, this one was created with the assistance of a well-to-do scientist (who had a grasp on what fairies actually were). Surely this plan would go right! Surely now!
“Yes, Colress. We shall…”
- - -
Timmy Turner knows that every day in Crocker’s class is a battle, and not simply because of all the F’s. Despite the mutual hatred between student and teacher (that Timmy is sure bleeds into how harshly Crocker grades him), he’s forced to acknowledge that Crocker is the only one who actually caught on to the existence of his fairies. Even though everyone else thought Crocker was nuts for it and never believed him, Timmy has to tread carefully; Crocker’s insanity actually gives him an edge in fairy hunting.
Somehow, though, today feels strangely off. He isn’t sure what it is that makes him feel this way, but he’s clearly feeling it enough that it’s concerning to his fairies. As Timmy stands outside of the school, staring at the double doors, his fairies—disguised as pink and green groundhogs—pop out of the ground.
“What’s the matter, Timmy?” the pink groundhog, Wanda, inquires. “You usually start reconsidering life decisions once you’re in the school.”
“Yeah!” the green groundhog, Cosmo, supplies. “And it’s usually because of one of Francis’ atomic wedgies!”
Timmy’s brows furrow and his buck teeth worry his lip. “I dunno, guys. Something just feels really weird about today. More than other days.”
“Like how, sport?” asks Wanda. Cosmo, meanwhile, runs off to chase after a squirrel.
“Well, like something really bad’s gonna happen. Something that’s super, totally terrible. Something way worse than anything that stupid Crocker could do alone!”
“Are you saying he’s getting help from someone?”
“Maybe,” Timmy replies, finally mustering up enough courage to push open the doors and tread to his potential doom, “but who would help that crazy dude anyway?”
- - -
“Good day, students. I am Doctor Colress, and I will be helping Mister Crocker with class today.”
Colress folds his hands behind his back, pleased to finally see their plan set in motion. From Crocker’s description of his target, it’s easy to spot him among the class—buck teeth, pink hat, incredibly sweaty disposition. As Crocker goes on about the day’s pop quiz—the diversion that would allow for fairy collection—Colress focuses on Timmy. The boy’s gaze keeps flicking between Crocker, Colress, and his colorful school supplies.
Colress tried not to make his investigation obvious, but he knew that those school supplies were the likely suspects. There was a pink pencil and a green eraser (that looks as though it’s been mauled extensively by some small creature. If he has to guess, perhaps this world’s equivalent of a Skwovet?). Smiling, he snaps his fingers to grab Timmy’s attention.
“Mister Turner, it would be good of you to listen to Mister Crocker while he talks, yes?” he says in a tone that draws ire from Timmy. “After all, you do not want to miss his instructions.”
“Thank you, Doctor Colress,” Crocker pipes up, drawing more ire from Timmy.
“As I was saying, class, today we have a pop quiz!” Crocker smiles a truly dreadful smile that seems to turn the room colder. “However, I’ve noticed some of you wretched children have been cheating… what with your pencils writing down answers, only to use your erasers to change them later when you know the answer! That is inexcusable!”
Colress takes the moment to pull out a large plastic tub. Aside from the fact that it has “PROPERTY OF MR. CROCKER” scrawled all over it in black marker, it looks like an otherwise normal tub. “However, Mister Crocker wanted to take a different approach than just giving everyone failing grades,” he suggests with a wag of his finger. “We will be providing our own supplies for you children to use—including, ah… what was it again, Mister Crocker…?”
“Why, only the finest pencils and erasers from when I was a lad… IN THE 1970’S!” Crocker cackles evilly as Colress begins taking up supplies and distributing the plants. “These erasers are hard enough to crack your teeth! One of them even poked Mother’s eye out! Good luck changing your answers now, foolish children! Heh heh! Haah hah hah hah!”
Timmy, Colress notes quickly, looks panicked. The boy knows that Colress has now seen his “supplies,” and can’t get rid of them without arousing suspicion. Colress sees Timmy size up the box he’s holding and whisper something to his pencil and eraser—boy, does he benefit from being an outsider in a world where that’s normal—before trying to look somewhat calm.
Colress strolls up to Timmy last, holding out the box for him to deposit his supplies. “Mister Turner, if you would be so kind?” he offers, smiling gently. He wonders, with quiet elatedness, how a fairy turns into a pencil. Does it hurt to sharpen it? Will they die if you break it in half? So many questions, all with answers closer than he dared make obvious.
“Uh, Doctor Colress? Are you gonna give me Crocker’s old pencil or what?”
Blinking back into reality, Colress shakes his head. “Do excuse me, Mister Turner. I was merely thinking about how I am going to adhere to Mister Crocker’s grading scale. I hear he is a particularly harsh grader.” It’s a great save, but Timmy looks upset. “Oh, don’t you worry. I promise to go easier than he does!”
After he gives Timmy one of Crocker’s decrepit pencils, Colress turns on his heel and makes his way toward the exit—just as Crocker told him to do. Sparing a glance over his shoulder shows Timmy looking mildly smug, which he knows is because whatever he’s told his fairies to do is about to occur. Better safe than sorry, Colress thinks, and he subtly taps a button on the underside of the tub.
The tub shudders lightly, then clicks; it looks no different than before, save for a small light on the lid blinking alive. Crocker can barely stifle his maniacal laughter as a generous amount of fairy dust suddenly puffs from between the crevices of the tub lid, then again after a few moments. Timmy’s confusion is writ plain across his buck-toothed face, and even Colress has to tap a hand to his lips in a sudden bout of high spirits.
“Mister Turner,” Colress chides on his way out the door, “please focus on your test. Mister Crocker and I will ensure that these materials will be out of reach until the end of the quiz.”
Crocker’s howls of laughter can be heard throughout the school, echoing his pure malice throughout each expansive, under-funded hallway.
- - -
“We’ve done it! Finally! After all of these years, finally!”
After some time transporting the fairies into an anti-magic chamber, Crocker and Colress are finally able to reap the fruits of their labor. Crocker’s face is pressed to the glass, startling the captive Cosmo and Wanda. Colress, meanwhile, writes notes furiously on a clipboard, examining what he can around Crocker’s impossibly angular head.
“Eek!” Cosmo whimpers, cowering in the corner of the small chamber. “Now Crocker and that guy with the big forehead are looking at us funny! I didn’t know I was gonna be looked at this hard! I haven't even put on makeup yet!”
“Cosmo, you don’t wear makeup,” Wanda returns, momentarily forgetting the situation they are in.
“You don’t know that!”
Crocker’s heavy breathing silences the fairies’ quarrel, and they both stare on in fear. “Good, good… get worked up! I want all of your magic, fairies…” Crocker mutters. Colress approaches him and gently tries to push him aside.
“Excuse me, Denzel, I would like to examine the fairies a little,” Colress requests simply, only to be swatted back by Crocker. Shocked, he pauses his writing. “Er? Why did you…?”
“Back away, Dorkus Maximus! These fairies are mine, I tell you, MINE!” Crocker barks, shoving his body against the anti-magic chamber protectively. “This magic’s all for me, so keep your distance, buster!”
Colress is doing well not to give away how he’s feeling, but the fingers of his writing hand have begun to worry the pen clutched within them. “Denzel,” he begins, voice unwaveringly flat, “let me remind you that it is only because of our collaboration that we have these fairies. Allowing me to make observations, as all good scientists desire, is the very least you can do.”
Crocker hisses at him in response like a snake. Colress blinks, trying to process that his supposed science partner has just hissed at him. When he finishes processing both the hissing and the fact that Crocker was going back on their agreement, he smiles coolly.
“Hmm, I see. It is quite unfortunate that you are taking this route, Denzel, my friend,” Colress sighs, backing away from Crocker and flicking out a small panel hidden in his coat. He taps a few times, swipes once, and suddenly the anti-magic chamber shuts off. Crocker screeches a horrible noise when Cosmo and Wanda realize they are able to escape and promptly fly out of reach. “It is a good thing you are not the first person I have worked with that I lost interest in. Overrides are such a wonderful command, no?”
“You! Wh-what are you doing?!” Crocker howls. “My fairies! D’aagh! My fairieeeees!!”
As Crocker wails and chases the fairies futilely, Colress taps his pen to his cheek. He tilts his head up to meet the eyes of Cosmo and Wanda, who seem to be having fun at Crocker’s demise. “Excuse me, fairies,” he says. “I understand that you grant wishes through magic. Would it be possible to witness this just once?”
Wanda looks apprehensive, but Cosmo easily brushes it aside. “Oh, come on, Wanda, this story’s gonna get retconned anyways! Granting one wish shouldn’t hurt, right?”
Wanda still looks unconvinced. “It depends what the wish is,” she mutters.
“I wish for a bear that will chase Mister Crocker,” Colress states.
“A bear?”
“Yes.”
Cosmo scratches his head. “Wouldn’t you want a beaker or something? To keep all your science in?”
“I am perfectly capable of containing my science. The bear, please.”
Cosmo and Wanda both shrug. “Good enough for us!”
With a swing of their wands, a standard brown bear appears from nothing. It roars and rushes Crocker, who screams and flees. Colress watches the debacle, sighing and reluctantly waving the fairies goodbye. He knows that with their liberation comes escape… and while he does want to investigate them a little more, he knows the fairy dust he’d collected in secret will serve him more than enough in the meantime.
It sure is great to be a scientist.