Chapter Text
Barry didn't really understand what was going on. It was strange—he understood what they were supposed to be doing, where they were supposed to go—he even understood why! They were on a Smash N'Grab job to collect some random trinket for some rich old person. It was a lot like the Aurora Nebbins job, actually, which was probably why they'd taken it. Now that he thought of it, being similar to the Aurora Nebbins job should have been a red flag, especially considering what happened to Skip and Sid during that job.
Anyway, he was crouched in a hallway, trying to look as statue-esque as possible (not hard for someone as beautifully constructed as him), on a squad mission with Sid and Skip. Skip was their sneakiest operative by far, and Sid had her wonderful droid ability to smuggle, so it was decided they'd be the extraction team. Barry was here in case anything went wrong; he'd take hits, he'd shoot a lot of guns, and they'd all take off in the light of a glorious explosion, probably courtesy of Sid's new plasma grenades. It'd be great!
Unfortunately, Barry didn't really understand what was going on anymore, because Sid was being chased by about twelve million guys in all-black suits (not literally, he corrected himself mentally, knowing Skip took that kind of hyperbole very seriously) and he had no idea where Skip was. Barry continued to stand perfectly still against the wall, hoping nobody would notice him.
"Get the droid!" One guy hollered, panting.
"Boss, her roller-skating prowess—it's off the charts!" Another guy yelled back, projecting a holomonitor that Barry was pretty sure said Roller-Skating Prowess: INFINITE in big rainbow letters on it.
"Goddammit! Don't we have anyone to match her?" The boss lamented, punching a wall.
"We have the—" Monitor guy started, but the boss cut him off.
"Use it! She has the worm!" Boss guy yelled.
"But boss, it's not ready! The Ridiculously Robust Roller-Skating Robot—it's only a prototype! The universe isn't ready for that kind of speed!"
"Our lives are on the line, Jenkins! Release the RRRSR!"
Jenkins gulped, staring down at his monitor. Barry kind of felt bad for him, honestly. His boss seemed like kind of a douche.
Wait, the worm? his internal Barry mused. What worm? We came here to steal a worm?
No we didn't, his second internal Barry chimed in, we came here to steal a really cool gun.
Are you sure? First Internal Barry asked. Why else would Sid be carrying a worm?
I'm sure it was a gun, Second Internal Barry insisted. That's why we were so excited! We got to keep it after the job, remember?
Oh, yeah! First Internal Barry said. So, wait, why does Sid have a worm?
Hm, Second Internal Barry answered. That is weird. Not that worms are weird!
No, of course not! First Internal Barry agreed. One of my best friends is a worm!
Hey, mine too! Second Internal Barry said. They mentally chest bumped. I wonder where Skip is. Maybe he knows what the worm's doing.
Not because he's a worm, but because he's super smart, First Internal Barry said.
Barry stood and watched Jenkins argue with his boss for a moment more. Seriously, where was Skip? Why hadn't Riva contacted them yet?
It wasn't until he saw the unconscious body of Norman Takamori being wheeled out of the armory they were supposed to be robbing that his mental Barries put the pieces together.
Oh shit, they said in unison, Sid's got Skip! And the weird guys have Norman!
Barry held his breath. Okay, cool, this was… well, it wasn't good, but he at least knew what was happening now! The job had set them up. Riva couldn't find them because the building was psyche-locked. They were trying to steal either Norm or Skip, which was weird, because Marge had gotten Amercadia off Norm's ass and Skip had killed his Barry-murdering dad. But Sid had Skip, and the evil guys had Norm. They were about to unleash the ultimate roller-skating weapon on the world unless Barry did something to stop them and save Jenkins from the moral weight of being the next brilliant scientific mind pressed into unleashing an unprecedented weapon on the universe. Like Albert Einstein. Gunnie had mentioned him before, probably. He invented space, and that had done countless bad things, like kidnapping Norm!
He didn't have time to think. The mental Barries quieted, and in an instant, Barry Syx dropped his brilliant disguise as a statue in a completely empty hallway, shot the boss guy, grabbed Jenkins-the-monitor-guy, and broke into a dead sprint after Sid.
Jenkins squeaked like he was going to scream, which Barry really didn't want him to do, because who knew how many more guys were hiding in these completely empty hallways, so he slapped a massive, beautifully manicured hand over the guy's mouth.
"Sorry, sorry!" he said. "I'm Big Barry Syx, the sixth of the Barry Battalion. I was created to be the coolest clone in the universe, and to protect people! Your boss seemed like a dick who was gonna make you unleash the greatest roller-skating weapon the galaxy has ever seen. And that's a high bar, since Sid is already about to blow this whole place to the next moon and back!"
Jenkins stared at him, wide eyed and limp in his arms. This kidnapping was going much better than his last one.
"Could you maybe tell me what the deal is here?" Barry asked. "I think you were trying to kidnap one of my friends, but I'm not sure which one. It'd be helpful to get some info on that."
Jenkins continued to stare.
"Please?" Barry tried.
Jenkins shakily pointed to the massive hand still covering his mouth. Barry would have facepalmed if he had a hand free.
"Oh, shit, my bad, dude!" He lifted the hand. "Better?"
Jenkins nodded.
"Cool! Now, d'you know what's happening, or…?" Barry thought he was starting to catch up to Sid. Maybe his short-distance comm would still work, even if the building was psyche-locked.
"Uh, I—I mean, I'm just a rollerskating engineer technician," Jenkins replied stutteringly. "I really—I'm not even getting paid for this. I'm an intern."
"Shit, that blows," Barry said sympathetically. A laser turret sprouted from a wall—they were onto him. He ducked elegantly, using his body to shield Jenkins from any damage. Jenkins seemed a little fragile, and Barries were made to take hits.
"Speaking of rollerskating, though," Barry said, sticking a perfect three-point landing while also catching Jenkins, "we should probably stop them from unleashing that robot. Any ideas?"
"Um," Jenkins said. Barry couldn't tell at the speed they were going, but it almost seemed like Jenkins was blushing. A natural response to being carried by a Barry, of course, so he took it in stride.
"Keep going," Barry said encouragingly, "you're doing great."
"We—they need a brain slug, to—to power its core axiomatic reactor," Jenkins stuttered. "The reactor breaks the rollerskating axioms of the universe, and—and a brain slug is needed to create a psychic cyberorganic feedback loop."
Barry dodged another laser. He wasn't sure if it was the imminent danger or the inherently confusing nature of using a brain slug as a battery for an all-powerful rollerskating droid, but he had no fucking clue what Jenkins was talking about. Like a sieve, his brain collected the important bits and let the rest trickle out like sand: the suits were after Skip, and if they got him, they'd sic a powerful android on Sid.
"So they can't run the android without Skip?"
Jenkins blinked at him. Barry realized he probably didn't know who Skip was.
"The slug," he elaborated. He caught sight of Sid—if he went into The Zone, he'd be able to catch her no problem. Maybe things wouldn't go so bad after all!
"No, they can still run the RRRSR," Jenkins replied forlornly, "it just can't reach its unlimited potential. Without the feedback loop, it'll shut down after—um—shit, I had the measurement in the lab, but I don't—"
"Hold on tight," Barry interrupted. He hit The Zone, his vision sharpening, reflexes responding seamlessly. "We're entering The Zone."
Jenkins wrapped his arms around Barry's neck and yelped as Big Barry Syx sprinted down the hallway, bearing down on Sundry Sidney and their helpless, hapless, slimy companion.
"Sid! Sid, shit, Sid!" Barry yelled. "What's the plan?"
Sid whipped around, a grimace already spreading across her face. "Sorry, Barry, but I don't have time to explain! Trust me! This is the plan!"
Barry's last conscious thought was, wait, is that a stun grenade?
Everything was going fine until the walls started throwing dry ice at them, and for once, Sid wasn't sure the problem could be solved with a grenade.
She was absolutely sure nobody had seen them come in—Skip was completely silent as usual, and she wasn't too shabby herself, camoflauging them into the walls with a woven holotech smuggling net. This was going to be the easiest 10k credits they'd ever made. All they had to do was walk into the massive, nearly empty armory, and steal some guns. The massive, nearly empty armory, which was, as previously stated, nearly empty, save for a shitload of guns and a massive ominously looming android with bulky rocket rollerskates on its feet. The guns they were stealing were sitting with a spotlight shone on them, a sign saying "OUR BEST GUNS: DO NOT STEAL," and—and.
Hm. Well. In hindsight, that was a bit of a red flag, but Skip had just shrugged and barreled through, so Sid couldn't be too hard on herself for not seeing it.
Anyway, Skip had started looking for traps around the guns, Sid had run lookout, the door had immediately slammed and locked itself shut behind them, the walls had quickly frozen over as the temperature plunged to sub-zero, and things had gone incredibly sideways incredibly fast.
Norm doubled over, his breath turning to steam as it hit the frigid air, and let out a horrible groan. Sid didn't know much about the internals of organics, but she knew they weren't supposed to sound like that, and Skip had told them a few of the details of his fight with his father. The cold room wasn't good—and more than that, it meant they'd been set up. Whoever orchestrated this job, they had known about Skip's inhabitation, his weakness, and they wanted him separated from Norm.
Sid processed all of this in a split ribec, but her processing speed wasn't enough to warm the room up or block the gas that was now leaking from the vents. Evidently, they also wanted Norm handled, in case the cold wasn't enough for Skip. Sid grit her plastic teeth, readying a plasma grenade in case anyone came into the room. They hadn't accounted for an android—an oversight Sid planned to make them pay for.
Slowly, Norm dropped. Sid winced, hoping he wasn't actually suffocating. She just had to hope their captors wanted Norm alive, because she didn't carry any respiratory equipment with her, on account of not being a respiratory kind of gal.
The armory door slid open with a sharp hiss, revealing a massive squadron of armed soldiers. It honestly seemed like too many soldiers to handle a tiny slug, but whatever. Contingency on contingency with these people and they still forgot to add an EMP to the bait room.
Which was weird, now that she thought of it, but she didn't have time to dwell on her opponents' shortsighted and respiratory-centric worldview. Sid pulled the pin on her first plasma grenade, snatching up two more as she did, and chucked all of them at the battallion.
Black plasticine armor went flying in chunks against the wall. Sid grinned. They'd sent her cannon fodder, how nice of them!
Blaster fire covered the room, but their aim was off. They were trying not to hit Norm or Skip. As Sid glanced over to check on her friends, she realized Skip was now crawling out of Norm's nostril, shivering and cracking against the freezing air of the armory.
Sid didn't have time to enhance herself. The battallion was advancing, and once they found her, being a droid wouldn't save her from a light bullet to the cranium. Even the Junkmother wouldn't take her if they found her.
"Sorry, Norm," she whispered, scooping the itty-bitty slug up into her arms, "I promise it's not personal!"
Clutching the tiny body of her friend in her arms, Sundry Sidney skidded across the smooth floor of the armory. She smiled, chucking another grenade behind her as she took off down the hallway. They'd made another mistake—the floors in the facility were all smooth. Perfect for roller skates.
Sid grabbed her portable blaster pistol and shot the lock on the door as she went. Hopefully it'd keep them busy until she could find Barry and get Norm back.
"Riva? Riva!" Sid reached out mentally only to be hit with a wall of static so overpowering she almost blacked out. "Fucking—they planned for everyone but me, huh? Species-ist sons of—!"
She shot an unsuspecting guard holding a big box (probably some kind of containment device for Norm) as she rocketed past on bubblegum-pink wheels. It made her feel a little better.
Skip hadn't moved since she'd picked him up. Her arm sensors told her he was near freezing, his usually squishy and slimy body almost solid from the cold. She swore under her breath. She couldn't do anything to help Skip unless she stopped to grab some random guard; her processor wasn't organic, and her nostrils didn't even lead to sinus cavities. She had nowhere to store him or house him. Her body didn't even produce an organic amount of heat.
Skip shivered, completely still, and Sid knew she had to find someone fast. The guards were in hot pursuit, but they simply couldn't match her skates' speed; she'd have to stop and let them catch up if she wanted to lure one to Skip. And they were always in groups, with solid helmets on. Even if she could get one alone, she'd have to get the stupid fucking helmet off to get Skip an in, and that might take time they didn't have. Someone had clearly briefed these chucklefucks in brain slug handling.
Sid wasn't sure if her short-range comm was still working. It wasn't based in psychic ability, so she was pretty sure it would, but she was too busy running to pick it up. Plus, shielding Skip was taking up her carrying capacity. She didn't know what other kinds of defenses they'd cooked up in this trap, and one well-placed cold blast could kill her friend.
If only she could talk to Barry. They'd come up with something, she was sure—they always did! If they just put their heads together, they could save Skip and get Norm back, and maybe even stop this stupid job from bringing down their Smash N'Grab rating. Steal some of the guns they came to steal, sell them, and turn a decent profit despite the trap.
Sid heard impossibly fast footsteps approaching. Hand on an active stun grenade, finger poised to throw, she whipped around to see her incredibly rad companion coming straight at her, a random man clutched in his arms like a baby. The random man was wearing a helmet—he must have been a worker, then—but Barry wasn't.
She had a really stupid, really genius idea as she looked at Barry's incredibly available nostrils and the stun grenade in her hand. She might regret this, but at least Skip would live to yell at her about it.
"Sid! Sid, shit, Sid!" Barry yelled. "What's the plan?"
Sid shifted, moving Skip to one hand so she could throw a grenade with the other, a grimace already spreading across her face. "Sorry, Barry, but I don't have time to explain! Trust me! This is the plan!"
Barry's eyes went wide as the grenade flew toward his face. He dropped the worker he was holding—the guy hit the floor with a whimper, covering his head with his hands—and tried to shield from the blast, but it was too late. Big Barry Syx went limp and hit the deck in front of her.
Stars, she hoped it was good enough for Skip.
She knelt down, completely disregarding the worker for the moment, and coaxed Skip forward.
"C'mon, Skip—it's Barry! He's got a nice brain for you to warm up in, right," she said, unsure if Skip could even hear her like this. Sid shooed him forward like a particularly stubborn bug. "And you know him! It's a good brain, I promise, you'll be fine—"
Skip lunged faster than she would have thought possible, his desperation evident with ice crystals lingering over what was supposed to be his mucus membrane. Sid was suddenly reminded why Skip's people were considered such effective predators as she watched him burrow into Barry's nose with surprising efficiency.
Sid didn't need to breathe, but she held her breath for dramatic effect as she waited for Barry to come online again.
"What was that?" Barry's (presumably kidnapped) friend screamed, still in the fetal position.
Sid whipped out a blaster and aimed it at his head. "Me first. Who the fuck are you?"
Skip had had a long day. First, Norman tried to fight him on who should run the stealth mission despite not having any practical experience in stealth. Skip had promised to let him run the controls if they got into a brawl, but he knew he was better than Norman at sneaking. They both knew it. Because they shared a brain. And Norman just liked arguing about nothing sometimes. Second, they'd been lured into a trap and he didn't know why.
That was the pressing one, because unfortunately, all it took was the room getting a little too cold before Skip stood, all systems on alert, the cold void of space rolling over again and again in his mind—and even then, it still wasn't enough. He was helpless against this.
He hated it.
The cold cut him out of Norman's body, severing their connection even as he scrambled to hold on. Despite his stubbornness, his mandibles unlocked eventually as his body froze and he slid away from the inner warmth of Norman's cranial cavity.
Stars, he despised being in his body again. Now that he'd tasted the autonomous controls independent beings took for granted, he couldn't bear his senseless, vulnerable form.
Someone picked him up and moved him, and he had no idea who it was. Not that he could do anything about it even if he did. He couldn't sense any chemical signals or even any body heat from them—if he was thinking clearly, he'd probably conclude it was just Sid, but he wasn't (because he technically didn't have a full brain right now), so he was instead forced to consider all the horrible possibilities this facility could have cooked up to capture him.
He was being slugnapped, and there was absolutely nothing he could do about it.
Skip missed being warm. Unfortunately, that meant he also missed Norman, which he didn't like admitting, but. Whatever. Nobody was going to hear it anyway. So he missed Norman.
Didn't mean he wasn't keeping a sharp eye (or sensor, or whatever—it was occurring to him that he didn't actually know how his natural anatomy worked, his father had never bothered explaining it beyond the Emhatchening) out for other bodies, though. In fact, the second his holder paused, he felt a pulse. It was close.
A second, alarmed pulse. What if it was a trap? What if his body cracked, still frozen and rigid, and he snapped right in half on the way to this new body?
It didn't matter. He couldn't wait any longer. His mucus was gone and every sensation grated on him.
Skip flung himself towards the pulse as it faded to a dull glow on his receptors and hoped against all hope he was doing something right for once.
Barry opened his eyes with a splitting headache. Weird. Usually Sid's stun grenades only left him tingly; they'd tested the effects strenuously (for purely scientific purposes, they had assured Margaret, though her smile suggested she didn't really believe them).
Ugh, he thought to himself, carrying Jenkins must have taken it out of me.
Who's Jenkins? someone responded. Probably an internal Barry. Wait, you told Margaret—Barry?
The one and only, Barry thought. You should know that. You're me.
Internal Barry snorted. Weirdly, Barry felt a rush of affection for—for himself? That definitely wasn't normal. The internal Barries just helped him monologue in the coolest possible ways. They didn't feel anything.
…you're me, aren't you? Barry asked suspiciously.
No, Suspicious Internal Barry responded matter-of-factly. I'm Skip. You're Barry.
What? You're supposed to be with Norm! Barry's hand flew to his nose, inspecting it for any trace of brain sluggery to corroborate the Suspicious Internal Barry's claim. There's nothing here, isn't Skip supposed to be—
Slimy? Yeah, usually, Suspicious Internal Barry groused. Barry swallowed back a foreign wave of annoyance. Fuck, this was weird.
I know it's weird, but I didn't have a choice, Probably Skip responded. Actually, I'm not even sure how I got here. I think someone threw me at you. Was too cold to think it through.
Barry jumped. I didn't even—
I'm a psychic slug, Barry. I can feel all of you. Another wave of amusement.
Stop that, for a sec, will you? Barry frowned. You're—you're Skip?
Last I checked. I mean, technically, last I checked, I was—
Prove it.
Why? Maybe-Skip paused. Dumb question, we got set up. Um, right on?
Barry smiled. "Right on," he whispered, jumping upright in one fluid motion.
"Holy shit, Barry, you motherfucker," someone yelped, "warn a droid next time!"
Barry turned to see Sundry Sidney standing in the hallway, grenades in hand and a pile of intermittently stunned, unconscious, and dead guards strewn through the hallway. Jenkins sat with his back against the wall, knees pulled up to his chin and eyes wide.
"Oh, 'sup, Jenkins! Good to see you've met Sid." Barry reached out a hand to help Jenkins up. Jenkins blinked at it.
"But she—there was a—"
"We're friends with him," Sid piped up. carefully scanning for any stragglers. "Sorry, Barry. I can't take Skip myself, on account of not having a cranial cavity with outside access."
"No problem," Barry reassured her, rolling his head on his shoulders. "We're getting by alright."
And, well. It was weird. Barry hadn't ever considered what it would feel like to have another mind hovering at the edges of your consciousness, but if he had to guess, he would have said it'd feel like conversing with Riva.
It wasn't like that at all.
Riva's telepathy was based purely on feelings. They'd communicate an impression with perfect clarity in the same way that vocal species used words. Sure, it sounded different (in that it didn't sound at all), but the way it felt was very similar to how the words would sound. Gunnie had once said something about how sound was really just a percussive vibration, a certain feeling on the eardrum, and that had made Barry's head hurt, but everyone had nodded like they understood it, so he nodded too.
Whatever this was, it was slightly beyond Barry's comfort zone. Rather than feelings-like-sounds-without-noise, this was… this was like hearing a sound with your mouth. Thoughts were coming from somewhere close to the usual place, but they were just off enough for Barry to notice. Plus, when Riva talked, they weren't trying to shove their entire force of personality through your brain. Barry had a feeling that if he really looked into this right now, his headache would get a lot worse as his brain struggled to parse all the information from his slug buddy's psychic impression.
Don't try that, Skip immediately warned him. We don't have time for you to run off down there, and I don't know how to pilot your body.
Your voice is a lot clearer in here, Barry replied numbly.
Yeah, 'cause I'm not talking, Skip didn't say. Just keep your eyes forward, okay?
Right on. He felt Skip's pleasure at the catchphrase and let himself snap back to the present.
"You sure you're good?" Sid asked. "You zoned out for a second."
Barry nodded. "Never better. Skip was just warning me against getting distracted."
"'kay! We gotta move, Barry," Sid said. "I don't know where they're keeping Norm, but they knocked him out with some kinda gas. They didn't have an EMP or anything for me, though, so I grabbed Skip and got the hell outta there."
We have to find Norman, Skip insisted. He thought it with such force that Barry twitched involuntarily, hand halfway to his heavy repeater. Sorry, sorry!
"They don't have EMPs," Jenkins said. "Um, they can't set them off in the armory because the RRRSR is there. It would break the delicate power circuitry and cost them—well, more credits than you can imagine."
Sid looked at him, skeptical. "I can imagine quite a lot. Why're you helpin' us?"
"They're not paying him," Barry interjected. "We could put him to work on the Wurst, right, Sid?"
He shot her a begging look. She huffed out a fake sigh, crossing her arms. "He can be a JibJobber. Fine. Tell us what you know, mister…?"
"Jenkins," Jenkins supplied. Barry had said his name earlier, but he suspected Sid hadn't really been listening. "I guess freelance is better than nothing."
Jenkins turned out to be surprisingly helpful, Sid had to admit. Once he accepted his boss wasn't gonna take him back, he spilled everything.
Norm was probably going to be stored near the armory, since that was where they wanted Skip to be. Sid almost asked him to elaborate on how exactly a brain slug would be able to power a fuckin' droid infinitely, but restrained herself. It wasn't important. She could ask the Junkmother later. Or something.
Sid slipped into position, her final three grenades armed and ready. One was just a flash, as a distraction to get the guards away from the door. If that didn't work, she had one stun to get them out of the way, and one plasma in case the stun didn't take hold. If all else failed, she had her usual light pistol and a plan B up her sleeve, though, personally, she didn't like plan B all that much.
She was poised above the door, tangled in the rafters. Usually this was Skip's job, but he was trying to be as unobtrusive as possible for Barry right now, so they hadn't factored him in.
"Skip says it's hard to sneak in a new body," Barry had said. "Especially one as big as mine. He says I'm not used to sneaking, so my muscle memory won't be any help either."
Sid still had her smuggling holomesh active, camouflaging her body into the dark ceiling. It was highly unlikely anyone would see her, but if they did—well, that was what plan B was for.
They'd figured out that their short-range comms were still working. They didn't have enough to give Jenkins one—Norm still had his on his body—so Barry and him had shared.
Sid whispered into her comm, "ready when you are, boys."
"Loud and clear," came the hoarse rumble of Barry's so-called quiet voice. Sid had lowered the volume of her comm before they started. Barry wasn't good at lowering his own volume. "That was a whisper, Skip!"
"Not over comms," Sid hissed. "Just go!"
"Right on!" Barry replied. A beat.
A massive metallic crash rang out from the armory. Sid grinned. Perfect.
The guards at the entrance turned to the source of the sound.
"Carl, did you hear that?"
"How could I not? Half the damn compound heard it, Larry," Carl said. He sounded annoyed. Sid primed the flash grenade, aiming for the armory door. They just had to get a little closer…
"No need to get snippy, dude, damn," Larry responded, shifting his gun. "You know what happened last time I investigated a mysterious noise without checking with anyone else."
"Right, I'm sorry," Carl said. "Whoever heard it looks for it, though. I'm staying."
"You're sending me by myself? After what happened last time?" Larry cried. "I'll report you to HR if you do that."
"Fucking fine, Larry." Sid could almost hear him roll his eyes. "We will go check the goddamn noise. If it's nothing, I'm telling Rob."
"You wouldn't dare," Larry said, wounded, as the two walked toward the door.
Sid hucked the flash grenade.
"Fuck, there's someone in there!" Larry yelled. "I told you—"
"Shut the fuck up, Larry, we have to kill them!" Carl screamed, charging into the armory. Larry followed.
Okay. Phase 1 of the plan was complete. All Barry and Jenkins had to do was get out of the armory and lock the door behind them. Then they'd wheel Norm out while she extricated herself from the rafters and they'd run for the fucking hills. Easy-peasy. It was easy!
Nothing about this was easy.
Barry wanted it to be easy. The first part was easy. It was fine. They made the loud noise; they smacked the Triple-R, as he'd taken to calling Jenkins' rollerskating wreck, and the sound was just beautiful. So distracting even he would have fallen for it. So resonant they could have recorded it and sold it to an audience as an experimental EP. So—
Focus, Skip nudged him.
Right. Focusing. Step two was initiated.
Jenkins crept forward, staying out of sight of the two guards who walked in, weapons up. Barry watched him step towards the locking mechanism, ready to activate it. Jenkins motioned for him to come forward.
Barry tried, to the best of his ability, to sneak up, avoiding the guards. But Barries were not engineered to be sneaky. They were engineered to be big, and beefy, and beautiful—all of which were not sneaky things to be.
Step two went down the drain when Barry's heavy repeater smacked against the hull of the Triple-R.
CLANG.
Jenkins froze, shrinking against the wall like he was hoping it would swallow him whole. Barry winced. Skip sighed inside his mind.
I should have tried, he lamented.
Don't worry, Barry assured him as he slung the heavy repeater forward, this is what I'm good at.
He fired, automatic rounds whipping around the guards before they could react. Barry took one of them down immediately, his head hitting the floor before his partner could even fish out a pistol.
"Yes!" Barry cheered. "Take that!"
"Carl!" The remaining guard screamed. He glared up at Barry, reaching for a weapon. "You bastard. You must be the fucking slug's friend—I've got something special for you, then."
Barry started to fire again, but before he could, he caught sight of the weapon the guard was holding.
It wasn't a pistol, though it was some kind of gun. Tubes ran along the side of its barrel, leading into a small bulb right near the trigger. It didn't seem to have a bullet chamber, which intrigued Barry for the split second before his brain started screaming at him.
No, Skip almost-screamed, almost-didn't, run, Barry, Barry, you have to—
—and suddenly, Barry wasn't in the armory anymore—
—Barry! Bar—
—the cold of space, uncaring and unforgiving, complete isolation, no people, no stars, no planets, nothing, nothing, nothing—
—fuck, Barry, I'm sorry—
—-his body was moving, running, feet pounding clumsily against the concrete that didn't exist, because he was lost in space, and he knew nobody was coming for him, and—
"—what happened—?"
—even if they were coming for him, they weren't really coming for him (but the Barries would always find each other, why wouldn't they be—?)
"—jusstopen the damndoor—"
—and Valdrinor, Valdrinor, Valdrinor, Valdr—
"—you have to stop—stop thinking that, fuck, Barry! Barry—you're going to—!"
Sid was lackadaisically undoing Norm's restraints when all hell broke loose. Norm was still unconcious, which was a little worrying, but he was also still breathing, so she didn't feel too rushed. The boys hadn't arrived from the armory yet, but she hadn't heard anything weird yet, like a second clang, or a scream, or—
CLANG.
—or gunshots?
The familiar rapid hum of Barry's heavy repeater followed the thought.
Sid sighed. Should have known better than to think they wouldn't need plan B.
She started hurrying on Norm's restraints, snapping the last one off and pre-emptively boosting her motivator so she could carry him while hitting maximum rollerskating velocity. She caught him before he hit the ground, slung him over her shoulder like a sack of notatoes, and sped out of the room before reinforcements could arrive.
Sid almost ran smack into Barry. She skidded on the brakes of her skates, throwing out an arm to steady herself on the walls.
"Barry! What the fuck—" Sid cut herself off.
A familiar sickly green glowed from the center of Barry's pupils. He panted and winced, clutching his head, and suddenly she realized that plan B wouldn't even work here.
"Skip?" she tried again, confused. "What happened?"
"Barry'ssssssss," Skip hissed, shaking Barry's head like a wet dog. "He'sssssssssslipped, he sllllipped, sllippeeedd, slipp—"
"Can you run?" she asked. Two grenades and the plan had gone completely off the rails. Sid did the mental calculations. With her motivator boost, she might be able to carry him, but it was gonna be close. Close, but fine, as long as they didn't—
CLUNK.
"Fuck!" Jenkins cried from inside the armory. He bolted as the door slammed shut behind him. Another door slammed down on top of it.
"What now?" Sid demanded.
"The Triple-R," Jenkins said breathlessly. "They let it out."
"Fuckin' shit," Sid swore. "Fine, plan B is back on. Skip, can you get out of there?"
"Barrywillfall," Skip said, forgetting to breathe between words. She'd never seen him like this, him or Norm, and she didn't like it. Something fucking weird was happening. "Notnotnotnotleaving hhhhim."
"Fuck," Sid replied, "fuck! Okay. I can get you outta here, Jenkins. We just have to pull off plan B. Barry—Skip—go!"
Skip tried to salute. It ended up looking more like a failed punch. She grimaced internally.
There was no way he'd make it out of here, but she couldn't carry him, Norm, and Jenkins. Not now, when the Triple-R had been released.
Sid turned from Skip. He could do this. He could get out of here. It would be okay.
She just had to race a robot that could theoretically rollerskate so fast it would tear the time-space continuum.
Easy-peasy.
Skip slipped into the containment room as quietly as he could—on some level, he appreciated the irony that they'd just broken Norman out of here, but on all other levels, he was about twelve layers deep into a psychic breakdown he hadn't felt since he'd run—
—run from his home and his father, the grand plans, the—
—Skip gasped. He slapped a hand over Barry's mouth before the sound could escape, biting down on the flesh of his palm to keep it from happening again. If they had any hope of escaping this, they had to be quiet.
Skip forced Barry's body to breathe, a hand still clamped over his mouth. There wasn't a guidebook for symbiosis. His father had always taught him to keep the body deep, deep under, to never go looking unless he needed information, to never lose himself in a memory. That wouldn't work here. Barry's inexperienced, clumsy steps—and Skip's panic at seeing a cryoray—had tripped a memory loop. Skip and Norman's bond was based on a tentative trust, a give and take neither of them had violated yet, for fear of something like this happening. Barry… he didn't have a clue something like this could happen.
In short, they were fucked. Skip didn't know how to fix this, but if resisting wasn't working, then—well. Fuck it. Succumbing had to do something.
He faintly heard the door open as he closed Barry's eyes and went searching for his friend.