Project ROWDY 2-26A (Patreon)

REX.It wasn’t a lot that people asked him about personal stuff. When they did, though, his name came up sometimes. Not his ‘hero’ name, just his name.

They assumed it was short for something half the time, like Reginald or Rexford or something like that. Dumb name, honestly. As if his parents were smart enough or cared that much to spend any time on him, and his name was no different from that.No, they’d given him three letters and that was it. 

He’d looked it up, honestly. Just one day, when he was bored, and — outside of a little spike from Boomers or whatever — it wasn’t all that common of a name. For people, at least. 

It was used way more for dogs than people, and that was kinda funny for a lot of reasons. Not funny ‘haha’, kinda funny ‘sad’. 

But anyway…

Full legal name.

That was the part that was fucking with him a little. The form had twelve different fields and he’d been stuck on number two for about nine minutes. Not to toot his own horn, but that was kind of an achievement for him considering Eve had always said he had the attention span of a golden retriever on a squirrel farm.

He’d written ‘R-E-X’ in big block letters, the type you always used on government forms like this one. Unfortunately, the ‘X’ was where his pen had parked itself and he was stuck looking at the rest of the space wondering what else to go with.

Sloan… No, that just didn’t work.

He wasn’t a Sloan and hadn’t been for a decade. That kinda came in the package deal when your parents sold you off to the big scary black man from the government for a plastic carton of steak and a briefcase full of money.

Radcliffe… That was his ‘legal’ name, and that was playing real fast and loose with ‘legal’ considering how that got changed and who did it.

So, it was just ‘REX’ with a long tail of blank space sitting after it and a little printed note underneath that said ‘as it appears on official documentation’. If he really felt like being a dickhead, he could have just put ‘ASSET’ right after it. Hilarious. 

And, again, not in the good way.

The GDA wouldn’t kick up shit about the lack of said ‘documentation’ though.

At least Cecil wouldn’t.

In the event of the undersigned's incapacitation or death, assets shall be the designated to the following beneficiari—

The pen felt wrong in his right hand as he stared down at the crisp GDA-issue form sitting on his desk like it was normal. The desk lamp buzzed by his head, the frequency constant and almost unnoticable as plastic clicked against his knuckles; another flip of the pen with nothing else written or signed.

His left arm stung like a bitch, refusing to sit properly on the desk. On top of that, his ribs on that side still ached from where a Martian missile went off a bit too close to him. Hell, the itch behind his eyes from the blast still hadn’t faded over the last day anyway.“My will, huh…”Being a Guardian over the past year had put some stupid money on his head; the checks fat and his bank statement crazy high enough with all the hazard pay, deployment pay, and all the other multipliers Uncle Sam used to slap his ass into the field.Like he had anyone to give the money too. Like there’s even shit to spend it on anyway.Superhero life didn’t leave you a lot of time to enjoy the fruits of your labor. Assets. He tapped the pen against the paper. Assets. What even counts as assets? He didn’t have, like, property or anything, considering he went from living in Eve’s closet to the Teen Team’s base and then the Guardian HQ. Past a motorcycle he’d never even ridden, a few game consoles, some expensive jackets and about a couple thousand dollars of luxury hair product that Eve used to give him hell about because of animal testing…

His eye slid down to field seven again. Beneficiaries.

It kinda sucked that all his friends were heroes too, because if he went… Well, odds were good some of them would go down with him. 

The thing was, though, Rex didn’t have any big plans on dying.Not in a fight and not from this surgery, especially because Cecil had promised him he would be fine— ‘If I thought there was an ice cube’s chance in hell of you kicking it, you wouldn’t hear a yes from me, kid.’ Then, Donald had come in after with the actual numbers, and the actual numbers were: full replacement on Radcliffe’s cybernetics with something bleeding-edge, seven days minimum under, probably closer to nine, and no guests allowed during recovery.

So, he had some sort of assurance there, but Rex still wasn’t fucking retarded either.

When your entire life was being sold, carved up, and turned into a walking talking grenade to throw at others, you learned pretty fast to plan for the worst and try to look cool as everything went to shit.

Either way, It was his ask that started this whole ball rolling. Cecil had dragged his feet for a little bit but after the hell of these last couple months, the old man finally got moving on it.

Rex stared a little longer, pen drumming out a beat before a sigh slid out of him. It didn’t take him much longer before the name Samantha Eve Wilkins took up spot #1.

He’d only just finished the last ‘s’ when a knock came at the door, a three-count that held for a pause too long before the fourth landed.

“Jesus…” Rex threw his head back in his chair with a sigh louder than the knock. "Just come in, man."

The door slid open with a hiss and Rex found himself staring at his own damn face. Younger than he was now and way scrawnier than he’d been back then, it was still the same hair and bone structure and everything as Rudy “Robot” Conners came into his room in a little white tee and some orange shorts. Five months of this and Rex still had to push past a half-second of static every time he spotted his own cheekbones and jaw on a face six years younger.Shit, wonder if this is what looking at old school photos is like. Not like Rex ever had school photos — or even school — in the first place, but still…

"You are still awake."

Never gonna get over hearing my voice so serious, man. Rex threw out another sigh as he looked back at Rudy. "I'm doin' paperwork, dude."

Hands folded behind his back in that Robot way that seemed more than just a part of the mechanical body, Rudy came to a stop by his desk.  "You are going under in ten hours."

"Yeah, and?" Rex raised an eyebrow.

"And you should…" Rudy paused with a breath to stall, something he’d been doing a lot more since he got a body — since he got Rex’s body — a half-second hitch where the old version of him would've had the answer out already. "You should be asleep. Sedation on an unrested body statistically increases t—"

"Bro."

"...I am aware you are going to ignore me."

"Not ignoring you, Robot.” The pen made another revolution around his thumb before he caught it, tongue and pen clicking before he looked back at his old leader. “I’m just not listening. It’s a difference. And before you say schematics-”“Semantics.”“Yeah, that’s what I said.” Rex rolled his eyes. “Just know I don’t even know what it means. So, what’s up?”

Rudy moved forward, eyes on the chair next to Rex even as he didn’t bother taking it. “The procedure…” He swallowed the words for a moment. “Are you certain about it?”

Rex leaned back, his boots propped up on the edge of his desk. “Robot, bro…” He tossed the pen onto the form with a snort. “I look like I’m backin’ out?”

"You have told me on multiple occasions that you do not trust the GDA."“I might have said that…” Rex pursed his lips. “Maybe once or twice.”“Multiple times. I would say more times than I can count but that would be a lie. Regardless, you have said it to Donald and Cecil.” Rudy leaned forward. “To their faces, I might add.”“Yo, okay, I don’t need the rec-” He scoffed at Robot being Robot. “You got a log?”Rudy’s mouth slid up into a smirk that looked more familiar than most of what he did with Rex’s face.” I have a good memory.”

"Okay, yeah, well…" Rex grunted as he dropped his feet and turned in the chair, which meant turning his whole torso, which meant the shoulder forced another grunt right out of him. "First of all, that wasn't really the GDA, that was R-”Another grunt left him, the name like broken glass in his throat, six years of life in a basement operation bobbing up to the surface. “That was Radcliffe running his own little covert kill clubhouse out the back."

"The man was still Cecil’s superior."

"Cecil’s old boss. And put the emphasis on the was, Robot.” His volume went up a bit too high with the correction, Rex wincing he pulled it down a notch or two. "Look, I’m the last person to give Cecil his props. Commander Scarface is without a doubt the biggest hardass alive, but he's not Radcliffe. Nothin’ like him.” Rex turned his head aside for a second, the next few words leaving under his breath. “He wouldn’t be breathing if he was.”

"That is quite the low standard, Rex."

"Only one I got, man."There was no lie there.And not even an exaggeration. Cecil used people and half the time spent lives like money if the world could afford it. Hell, he knew the Director would be willing to put him in a pine box tomorrow if the math worked out that way.Despite all that bullshit, Cecil wasn’t the guy who bought a nine-year-old from a shitty house with no windows or running water just to see how much explosive yield he could pack into his bones. Either way, it wasn’t like he didn’t know the old man didn’t have a soft spot for him. Hard not to when he had refused to take Cecil and the whole Pentagon out in the process on top of warning him about the job in the first place."And that’s not even getting into how the stuff inside me’s like a decade old by now. I’m walking around with the prototype, Robot. It was still a prototype when I got it and I was twelve way back when. Not even close to garbage but Radcliffe didn’t have the whole GDA behind him back in 2013 when he had it made." Rex slapped his chest with a smirk. "The old man promised me the real thing. Not ten years old and built for a hundred-pound kid.”Rex knew he needed it, mostly because the fighting wasn’t getting any goddamn easier. Ever since Mark’s dad mowed through the OG Guardians, life had been one insane battle after another. If it wasn’t Flaxans, it was another invasion or interdimensional Martians or a giant cosmic purple guy. Need to hit harder.

Whatever Cecil could do to him, he’d take it.

As long as this pushed him past the bottom half of the team. No offense to Rae or Kate(s), but he didn’t like the way people tried to say they were anywhere near the same level. “Technologically, I have no qualms about the procedure.” Despite his words, those small hands still clenched tight behind his back. “After review, the technology is sound enough and the neural integration process should take no longer than ten days till you’re in full form again. The remake of your skeletal frame will be substantial, though.”“Oh, I’m looking forward to it.” Rex chuckled as he leaned further back in his chair. “I’m trying to get some of that in me, know what I mean?"

“...I can make an educated guess.”

"Name one of yours that isn’t, bro."

Rudy went quiet and Rex did too after a few more seconds of laughing, the both of them just looking at each other in the silence of the room. It was almost impossible not to look at his own face, though, and the more he looked…Well, the more it was like falling down a rabbit hole again.

He couldn’t help it, though.

Looking at Robot just brought it all rushing back, everything he spent almost all his time aggressively forgetting. 

‘Hah!’ He’d been nine, last time he saw them; both his parents huddled for warmth next to him on the couch as the big black government agent sat across from them. ‘The boy?’ His dad still had drool all over his grimy beard, unwashed face spread wide in the biggest smile Rex had ever seen on him in his entire life. A plastic carton of steak right in front of him with four million dollars in a suitcase right next to it, and Rex might never have existed at all. ‘Is that all?’

His mom hadn’t even fought.

She barely even thought about it.The most he got from her was a hug and an ‘I’m sorry.’ His dad was too busy digging into the food to even look up or say anything when Radcliffe led him out by the hand. No chance or time to pack up his stuff, not that he had anything to pack in the first place.

Nothing that didn’t have bed bugs or stains or holes all over it, at least.

Three years of school that wasn't school, living in a huge facility built under the basement of a huge mansion; training and super-steroids and everything else to get his body ready. Twelve years old was when he went under for surgery, the first one, the one that took, after so many others that hadn't taken on other kids who he never met and he never even got the chance to know. 

Then three years after that of being pointed at people. Kyoto. The mansion. The tower. The warehouse. Hell, his body count by the time he was 15 was up there. He’d even made the dumb decision of asking Cecil once if they had the number and apparently his old boss-dad had kept the information on his private server.RADCLIFFE, REX — OPERATIONAL CASUALTY RECORDConfirmed hostile/target fatalities: 487Collateral fatalities: 923Total attributable fatalities: 1,410

It wasn’t pretty but there was a reason he could hold his own in team-ups with Eve. He hadn't cried about it, though; not the surgery, not the training, not even the killing. Hell, he loved it. Radcliffe had told him he did good and he'd gone back to his room and felt good about it.

Yeah, he was a kid.Yeah, he was groomed. None of that changed the math that he was a dog of the shadow government, a bad a person as you could find. It didn’t matter that he hadn't known better. 

He'd still been a bad person.

A hand came down on his shoulder; the good one. "You know that I have always looked up to you."

“Bro…” Rex laughed before he'd even looked up, the sound almost a. "You're older than me."

"Chronologically, yes."

"By like ten years."

"Eleven. But you’ve lived far more than I have." 

This guy… Rex laughed again, at the quick correction; Rudy really unable to help himself. "You think I'm dumb."

"I…” Rudy blinked, back suddenly stiff. “I have never said that."

"Robot, acting like I’ll believe you’ve never thought that just makes it worse. C’mon, you’ve probably said somethin’ like…" Rex was up out of the chair, spine straight and chin tucked as his hands clasped behind his back.  "Rex Splode is an undisciplined and intellectually mediocre teammate."

"An undisciplined and intellectually mediocre teammate." Rudy nodded slowly. "That I trust with my life."

…huh. Rex's hands came down, the explosioneer blinking back at his teammate. "Ohhhkaay, wow, what… Rex dropped the impression fully, smirk fading with it too. “Where’s this coming from, man?”"Do you know what it was like, Rex?" Rudy’s face hardened, jaw tight in a way Rex was very unfamiliar with — in the mirror and anywhere else. "In my tank. I do not think I have described it accurately to anyone, including Amanda. For a very very long time, I was… a creature. More than a human. My parents loved me but they gave me up because they could not afford to care for me. There was fluid, and there were the interfaces, and there was a body that had been failing since I was born years old and would continue failing at a rate I could measure. I was alive but not living, as trite as that sounds, every single moment of my life a punishment. But ever since you joined the team. Every day you were there. Seeing you…”Rudy looked up at him, jaw still tight. “Every day, having to look at you… it was, to be quite frank, more torture than my existence already was.” 

"...was I that shitty of a teammate?” Rex frowned, honestly more confused than anything as he tried to make sense of what Rudy was saying. “I mean, bro, I know I talk a lot of tras—”

"No." His voice cracked on that word, puberty mixing with emotion to be especially embarrassing. "You were simply… loud. Physically present in a way I could never truly know or appreciate. Emotionally transparent, albeit to your detriment on occasion. Socially legible. Athletic. Attractive. Sexually confiden—"

"Okay, hooooold on there."

“I-I do mean that as an observation, not—"

"If you’re trying to hit on me right now, you should have cloned Eve or… Kate… or Rae… o—"

"See?” Rudy laughed out loud, the sound interrupting Rex before he could go down the longer list. “This is it, what I mean. You could walk into a room and occupy it, claiming space with just your words. Whatever I told myself about what I had over you — intelligence, discipline, capability, leadership, age — you were still Rex Splode. You took risks without calculating the chance of failure. You spoke without fear of rejection. You could feel something and trust the feeling was correct." Fists clenched tight, Rudy shook his head as he stared into Rex’s face. "Engineered as a living weapon and made to murder by the time you were twelve years old and you chose, on your own, not to be worse. I’ve simulated myself in your position a million times and I do not believe I would have done the same."

“Don’t…” Rex swallowed hard. “Don’t say that man. You’re a hero, like the rest of us.”His own eyes stared back at him, expression cold in a way that didn’t match the soft smile on that thirteen-year old face. “No, not like the rest of you.”Rex blinked. The hell does that…

"There is a reason I used your DNA for this body." Rudy's hands folded again, this time in front of him. "And not simply what I said about Amanda. That part was true. But it was far from the truth as I gave it to you."

"...Robot?"

"I would have traded almost anything to be you. Anything." Rudy’s hard eyes softened, that smile widening again. "And I did exactly that because as irritating and frustrating and as churlish as you can be, you are aspirational, Rex Splode."

Rex opened his mouth, only for nothing to come out. 

Which basically never happened.

It took too long for Rex to finally get out two simple words. "...Thanks, Rudy."

"Thank you, Rex. I hope to see you back soon.”

With another pat on the shoulder, Rudy left his room, the door hissing shut and sealing behind him.

Rex sat down, the chair squeaking under him as he dropped his attention to the form on his desk again.

He picked up the pen and sat there with it for a second, before clicking the top.

The letters came quickly, ink bleeding slightly into the paper before he could talk himself out of it.

REX SLOAN CONNERS.