Mountain Dew and Other Infinities: Part 2
Their HQ is a dingy garage and Stat has to grudgingly admit it feels like home.
Don't get her wrong, she hasn't been so uneasy being stared at since that whole thing with Gilthax down in Roswell, but the dark, dingy corners, the bleak atmosphere that reeks of wasted potential, it feels like she's back home.
She doesn't miss her old lair, or her old friends. Of course not. That would be ridiculous. She just misses her freedom, that's all. And the tamale lady who sold tamales by the pound and always made sure to give Stat the biggest ones. But that's it.
"So, you're the new girl, huh?" the blue-haired boy asks her, twisting in a way that Stat can only assume means he's made of jello.
"Stat, this is Twink," says Walmart Superman. "Twink, this is Stat, our new hacker."
"Sup," Stat says as Twink pokes at her gauge, fascinated. She contemplates biting him.
"Your earlobes are ginormous," he says.
"Thanks," Stat says. "You can fit an entire fruit roll up in them in a pinch."
"Ew."
"Twink is our master of disguise," Knock-Off Steve Rogers says. "Now, Deb should be coming in-"
"Hey, Mary," a voice says, right on cue. A larger woman walks in with a pitbull trotting goofily alongside her. "I hope you don't mind, but I had to bring Waffles with me today. He's having some separation anxiety and Pam had to head up to Beverly Hills to meet with Brittany's son for a session, so she asked if I could take him." She finally stops and notices Stat. Her smile widens. "And you must be the hacker. Stat, right? I'm Deb, this is Waffles. I build gadgets, kick ass, and throw a mean superbowl party."
"Sup," Stat says, wishing she had her headphones and a nice dark blanket fort to retreat to. The dog walks up to her and starts sniffing her pants.
"Waffles, stop it," Deb scolds, pulling the dog back gently. "Sorry about that. He's just very friendly."
"It's fine," Stat says, her face softening just a bit. "Dogs are cool. Do yours eat people?"
"Hell no!" Deb shouts, almost offended. "My wife and I-"
"You have a wife?" Twink asked, shocked.
"Been married since they made it legal," Deb says proudly. "Who did you think 'Pam' was?"
"Honestly? I didn't even think about it," Twink says. "Anyways, just make sure your dog doesn't poop in my stuff or eat my lipstick and it's all good."
As the others chat, Stat starts poking around the garage. It's not what she expected, but then again, if it's a secret agency, it makes sense that they'd be nondescript. Her fingers are itching to tear into some juicy files, and she finds herself drifting towards the single, dinosaur-like monitor and its clunky keyboard. It takes her about thirty seconds to find the sticky note taped to the monitor with the computer password, and Stat sighs. This is the worst computer security she's ever seen, and that's saying something. She can already feel the headache growing and fumbles for her bottle of Mountain Dew, growing frustrated as her hands brush over where it's supposed to-
Right. Not her batcave, not her setup. She's going to need to fix this, if she's going to do anything useful today. And to fix this, she's going to need Mountain Dew.
A lot of it.