Spilling Guts

Part 100 - Spitting Latin

Louis took two steps away from Rachel's lab, glad to leave the presence of the Devil's Neckbrace behind, for now, when Reese's voice boomed from down the hall.

"You! Fiend!" Reese stood hunched over, a red-faced, weak bonfire, cold packs over his knuckles, and stripped down to black slacks and a sweat spotted white undershirt. He held his jacket, white button up shirt, and tie over an arm like it was the only thing keeping him from attempted to punch Louis. "Hellish homunculus."

"Oookay."

"Vindictive, petty, brute."

Louis rolled his eyes. Sure. Fine. He could deal with this crap now. "Right."

"May tuum capulus coeunt hirudines!"

"Now you're just showing off."

Reese's fury sputtered down to whining. "Why me? I just spent half the day learning how to "properly" batter a bag into submission. I have to punch a steel plate while "hosting" you. And according to Cetz, if Billy-boy isn't available, I'll have to "host" you again."

Wow, getting tired of using "host" for this already. "Yeah."

"Why the butterscotch balls of saint Bartholomew did you pick me?"

"It was you or Beni." Louis let the words sink in; Reese's face twisted in distaste. Go in for the kill. "Would you rather I picked her? I can go ask-"

"No!" Reese shuddered and followed by Louis as he trailed back towards Main Tech. "I will get you for this."

Louis thought back to the frivolous, but well thought out, plan of revenge Will had stewing in the back of his head. "We'll see."

I need more coffee, and time, thought Louis. Need to wrap my head around Mission Control possibly sending me on missions while the size of an action figure. Seriously, what do they think I can do at that size?

The hall opened up to the chamber of Main Tech. Will sat pensive and quiet at his own desk, bent over his inbox with a steaming mug of grass-water in one hand and his head in the other. Good, he was back. Louis then stalled at the sight of another small stack of patents perched on his desk chair. And another stack covering sight of the sticky note on his screen.

I'll take the "small jobs" if Cetz will excuse my workload!

***

After inputting the schematics for a reinvention of a matchbox, a pair of self-heating chopsticks, and a child's doll with blinking eyes and full, semi-accurate, internal organs that could be viewed and removed so the child could learn about anatomy (and black market pricing for body parts), while trying to avoid eye contact with Louis as he stewed at his desk, Will needed a break.

Here I am. Sitting across from Louis. That's not avoiding him. He's right there. And I'm here. Not picking a fight.

Ignoring him, thought the cynical part of Will's brain.

He doesn't look chatty right now. He looks like he wants a flamethrower...

I am avoiding him, aren't I?

Will was also avoiding looking at Beni and Reese, but for a more solid, petty reason. He could see a tiny flake of metallic confetti stuck under the F key on his keyboard. Vengeance echoed in his mind.

Bill.

Billy.

Billy!

Later, thought Will.

By mid-afternoon, Will got that need break; a summons to Rachel's lab.

Doctor Hayman had come over to Watch Two with a cap Will had to wear while awake. It was dubbed the "sleepy beanie". At first glance it looked like an average soft fleece beanie, but the inside held two dozen different electrode sensors and acted the same way as the cap Will had worn the night previous. A cord trailed from the back of the beanie and plugged into a combination battery and computer that hung off a belt loop. And two of the electrodes at his temples had to be attached with gel and medical tape.

Will could handle the beanie and tape, he'd worn heavier and more complicated wigs at conventions. He could even handle the weight of the computer and battery hanging at his hip; he'd carried heavier swords and light sabers the same way. But the wet splotches of gel that felt like leeches on his head he endured while mentally swearing.

He looked towards a familiar shape covered by a microfiber cloth on a table in the center of the lab. The Devil's Neckbrace. At least he wasn't putting that on his head.

Doctor Hayman threaded the cord down the back of Will's shirt. "This should record the activity going on in your brain as you go through the rest of your day. If you think you're having an episode, press here." Hayman pointed to a small button on the inside of the small computer. "It'll let us know to get you. If anything shows up out of the ordinary, I'll have a better idea of what's going on."

"Do I need to wear it tomorrow too?"

"We'll see." Rachel scanned her tablet next to the Sleepy-beanie's computer, prompting the wireless signal to be paired. "If we get anything abnormal with the scans we'll be one step closer."

"I wonder what my brain looks like going through patents," muttered Will as he brushed a lock of hair behind his ear, hyper aware of the weight on his head.

"I think it depends on the patent," said Doctor Hayman. Sleepy-beanie hooked up, he stepped back and said his farewells. "I need to take a nap before tonight. I know I mentioned talking to Agent Patriarch about his report, but I already have quite the reading list. Call me if anything happens."

It's like they want me to have another... episode. A waking dream, Hayman had called it. A night terror in broad daylight.