Rule Number One

Chapter Four

...

Around the outskirts of the city, on the forgotten fringes of urban sprawl was an abandoned warehouse. In the damp shadowy building, the faint hum of machinery mingled with the occasional drip of water echoing from the ceiling. The air hung heavy and still, thick with the smell of dust, damp concrete, and the faint, acrid tang of stale oil. In the center of this dimly lit expanse, a single, harsh spotlight cut through the shadows, illuminating a chaotic metal workbench. Tools were scattered around and half-finished projects sat in various states of disarray, a testament to the restless young mind that currently occupied this space.

Hunched over the bench, Gizmo's small hands delicately removed the cover of an advanced, futuristic device. The intricate mechanisms within caught the light, transforming into a miniature landscape of dazzling complexity. Glimmering gold and silver wires snaked around crystalline circuits that refracted the light. Unfamiliar components, crafted from materials he couldn't even identify, were nestled together with an almost otherworldly precision. It was technology so advanced, it felt like it had been pulled straight from the pages of a sci-fi novel, far beyond anything he'd ever encountered, and even beyond his genius-level understanding.

He adjusted a pair of oversized magnifying goggles over his eyes, the thick lenses magnifying the tiny details of the artifact. He leaned in closer, the skin between his brows furrowed in deep concentration.

"What's happening?" A distorted voice, crackling with static, demanded from his computer monitor.

Gizmo growled under his breath, not bothering to hide his irritation. "Well, nothing yet!" He snapped, his voice dripping with frustration. "I'm not even sure what I'm looking at here!"

The voice on the other end scoffed, its tone dripping with condescension. "Of course, you don't, dumbass. It's from the future. Like I've been telling you."

"So are you, stupid-head!" Gizmo shot back, spinning his chair around to glare at the monitor. "Why don't you give me some pointers instead of just sitting there on your ass and making stupid comments?"

The voice groaned, a sound of pure, unadulterated impatience. "I told you already, imbecile, it's not from my timeline! As ridiculous as it sounds, twelve years from now, time travel still isn't a thing."

"Well, buttmunch, sounds like you need to get on that." Gizmo huffed, crossing his arms stubbornly.

"What the hell do you think I'm trying to do, booger-breath?!" The voice snapped, exasperation finally breaking through the surface. "Now can you just describe how the device is put together so I can attempt to rebuild the one I've got?"

Gizmo rolled his eyes and turned back to the machine. "If you already have one, why'd you take it apart in the first place, genius?" He mumbled, his attention already drifting back to the complex wires.

"I didn't!" The voice barked. "The brainless Titans did. It was their brilliant idea of protecting it."

A snicker escaped Gizmo's lips as he fiddled with a small crystal component. "Well, it stopped you, didn't it?"

"Are you seriously forgetting that I'm you, fucknugget?" The voice retorted, its tone sharp.

"Still on the fence about that." Gizmo muttered under his breath.

The voice sighed heavily in defeat. "Can you just hurry up already? It's only a matter of time before the Titans figure out what's going on and show up to ruin everything."

Gizmo couldn't help but laugh, a short, sharp bark of amusement. "Ha! As if! There's no way those morons know it was me. I was in and out, didn't leave so much as a hair behind. They've got nothing."