#post return

[friendship-switchblades]

i was there for the promised third killjoy video, the second solo album, and the massive delay in doom patrol, ain’t holdin my breath for gerard’s fantasy novel

[tmrrwpplarchive]

“Dr. Price, Dr. Rikkin will see you now.”

Jedikiah stood, dusting invisible lint from his suit jacket, his skilled fingers fiddling with his cellphone before tucking it away. 

Following the assistant through a maze of hallways, he didn’t mind the walk. A good chance to stretch his legs after returning from a successful acquisition in England.

Dr. Alan Rikkin was waiting by the cargo bay, seemingly focused on the box truck parked against the dock. Jedikiah couldn’t help the smile as he heard muffled shouts and frustrated growls from the inside. They were both men of science, and, well, science was precisely why Jedikiah was here.

“Dr. Price,” Rikkin greeted, finally tearing his eyes from the truck. “It seems you have brought me a gift more than requested.” Jedikiah gave a shrug of his shoulders, a wry smile on his lips. “Two for the price of one. Siblings tend to show a connection where one senses the other is in trouble and comes running. It isn’t usually easy to catch both at the same time, so I indulged myself.”

Jedikiah pulled the papers from his jacket, the papers previously having been Ultra files. 

“I believe you’ll find anything you need regarding these two. After an incident against your friends in London, it appears there was a slip in time, putting them both at the epicenter of the Fryes’ quest in 1869. I allowed their friends to solve bringing them back.”

“One of their friends -- your nephew, I presume.” Alan’s tone was clinical. He didn’t blame the other man for his family’s shortcomings. Of being... mutated.

“Yes, but Stephen will be willing to work with us, if it means he gets these ones back in his fold. Quite the little rebellious army they were creating. But as of the moment, the only two aware of our alliance and what it means are presently...” He gestured to the box truck. 

“And the man, John Young, hasn’t figured it out? He seems to be one step behind you from what you’ve told me of him.”

“John won’t seek the assassins’ help. He doesn’t trust anyone other than his own kind anymore. Whatever leads he discovers will go nowhere because he’s stubborn.”

“A trait you no doubt instilled in him as a boy.” Rikkin’s shoulders vaguely shrugged, filing away the notion of concern. “Well, shall we onboard these two and try out those modifications you suggested?”

Jedikiah nodded with a smile. “Yes, I have it in good faith that these two may have some interesting genetic relationships that you can locate with your machine. The trials of our project with Dolofonium-6 will not be nearly as important as testing the effectiveness of genetic memories on the prime barrier.” Strolling to the doors, he opened them with a grand gesture, revealing the persons inside.

“Casimiro and Clarissa Tellemanca. Homosuperiors. Age 32 and 22.”

The two siblings thrashed harder against their multiple restraints-- the faint blue light of dozens of d-chips echoing from the inside and casting an ominous light on the two scientists present.

“I wonder,” Rikkin mused, taking in their bruised and beaten appearances. The gags preventing anything other than muffled swears and screeches. “Dr. Price, how does one get from trying to help his own mutated sibling to helping the Templars experiment on his very kind.”

Jedikiah gave another indifferent shrug. “They need to be controlled, and who better than those with the same vision as myself.”

“Indeed.”

“Do be careful,” Jedikiah informed the other man, “They both are very well trained in fighting. No doubt increased from brawling their way through history.”

“It’s almost a shame they can’t kill, the assassins would love to get their hands on them, if they ever found out.”

“They can’t, yet. And hopefully giving them to Abstergo will make sure that never happens.”

[friendship-switchblades]

hair: unwashed and unbrushed. shirt: askew. jacket: rumpled. never change gerard