Just For One Day

8

     Ear pounding, headache inducing music filled the air in the laboratory room and moved through the ventilation shafts like blood through a circulatory system. It vibrated walls, shook windows, and violated every noise ordinance ever conceived by mankind. It was filled with screeching guitar solos and thumping double-pedaled drums and growling, guttural vocals that managed to be both unintelligible and threatening at the same time.

     The door rattled on its hinges like it was going to jump out of its frame at any moment. Streak stood outside of it, watching the door as if it might suddenly grow fangs and bite her. Hesitantly, she raised her hand and knocked.

     The only response was the continued quivering of the door as it was bombarded with the musical equivalent of a battering ram. She knocked again, louder this time. The wood quaked underneath her fist, and the vocals in the music rose from a low growl to a loud, hoarse shriek which made Streak's skin crawl.

     Streak raised her arm above her head and hammered on the door, making her knocks sound like one long, continuous drum roll. After a moment, the door swung open ominously and there, like a mad scientist emerging from a lab wherein took place untold blasphemous and inadvisable experiments, stood Roger.

     He opened his mouth and said something, but Streak couldn't hear him over the cacophonous din.

     "What?" Streak shouted, and noticed that she couldn't hear herself, either.

     Roger said something again, then pursed his lips with an expression of minor irritation and turned around to go back into the room. Streak watched him walk to a marble counter, on which sat a ridiculously large boombox. He turned a dial on it and the music switched off, leaving a ringing in Streak's ears.

     "There we go," said Roger. "Come on in."

     "Ranvier, I can explain-" started Streak, before he cut her off.

     "Whaddaya think of my lab, eh?" He said, motioning around the room. "Pretty sweet, right?"

     Streak looked around. There were desks, tables, and counters on practically every part of the floor, and every square inch of said items was covered in random odds and ends: dismantled electronics, deconstructed appliances, even rust-covered automobile parts. Every bit of spare space was filled in with bolts, screws, nuts, screwdrivers, wrenches, wires, and an assortment of other mechanical pieces. It was a mechanical engineer hoarder's dream.

     "It's...crowded," Streak said.

     "I know, it's great!" Roger said enthusiastically. "This is where I make all my gadgets! Well, a lot of my gadgets. I've got some other rooms like this in the lair. I'm still trying to sort everything that I pulled out of storage. I've been away for a long time, as I'm sure you're aware."

     Streak had not been aware of this at all, but she felt it was prudent not to comment on it. "What are you working on?" She hazarded.

     Roger laughed. "More like what am I not working on! 'Cause let me tell ya, I've got a lot cooking up in here." He pointed to the side of his head. "I've got ray guns, ice guns, flamethrowers, guns that shoot ninja stars, guns that shoot knives, guns that shoot smaller guns that shoot knives, guns that shoot smaller guns that shoot knives that explode..."

     Streak opened her mouth to interrupt, but Roger kept talking. "Over here I've got a device that lets you talk to plants, antigrav boots, extragrav boots, regular boots that are particularly stylish, a watch that is actually a hand grenade, a hand grenade that's actually a watch, a hand grenade that actually is a hand grenade, a sonic wave emitter that makes people confused, a sonic wave emitter that makes people soil their pants...I call that one the 'brown note box'," he nudged Streak with his elbow and she thought he was done, but he continued on. "Then I've got some experimental battle armor, goggles that shoot laser beams, a helmet that gives dolphins the ability to communicate telepathically, a blender you can use to make smoothies, a pen that shoots venomous barbs, and a phone that has a malicious AI which calls all of your exes at three in the morning."