Chapter Text
The TV had been staticky all week and everyone in the Manor had been bothering him about it and it was pissing him off, having not slept in the last 72 hours. He was a mad scientist first and foremost, not a damn fixer-upper for every problem in the Manor! He was finally asked (read: threatened) by Black Hat to fix it after Demencia wrecked one of the many rooms in the Mansion in boredom.
So here he was, standing in front of Demencia's favorite TV, trying to fix it even though he wasn't a goddamn technician! Flug glares at the TV, like, he could obviously fix it in less than fifteen minutes, but the point still stands.
He sighs and just pulls the toolbox he brought with him closer. He trifles through the contents of the box before pulling out a screwdriver. Flug stands, screwdriver in hand to get this demeaning task done and over with, honestly, he was one of the smartest people on the planet, and here he was fixing the TV just because his boss was a cheapskate to everyone but himself when it came to spending cash.
Another sigh escapes his lips, maybe hitting it would fix it? That works like more than 20% of the time when it came to technology, the other 80% ended up with someone maimed, killed, or thoroughly traumatized. Which weren’t really great odds, but whatever. Several unwanted memories pop up, (“FLUG!” “Y-yes Jefecito?” “What is a MILF and why are they in my area?” Everyone was traumatized that day and collectively agreed to never talk about it again.)
Flug shudders trying to get rid of those horrid memories. Suddenly, a booming voice echos through the room, “FLUG! You better be done with that picture box!”, a plant nearby shrivels upon the voice ending its transmission.
He can feel a cold sweat form under his brow as he answers, “U-uh, Almost done, sir! J-just give me a moment!”
He fumbles with the screwdriver, dropping it with a thunk! onto the ground. Screw it, maybe if he hit it hard enough it would revert the problem itself.
He hits the side of the TV, and it glitches slightly. He hits it harder, and a picture flashes before it promptly disappears.
Flug levels the TV with an annoyed glare and strikes the screen.
…And-
And his hand falls through..?
|x__x|
For a moment, all his previous ill will disappears and he just stares, uncomprehending of what he's witnessing.
He yanks his hand back as if it's been burned, shaking his hand of the phantom sensations of prickly static. (That seems familiar..?)
He brings his shaking hand to his chest and stares at the TV, what was that?!
Flug had three, maybe four conclusions about what just happened.
One: A hero broke in
Although that was a very real possibility, it had to be crossed out as the Hat House had the most top knotch technology and weapons that would deal with them. That, or Demecia would maul them before they even made it past the front entrance.
Plus, no hero he kept track of had this kind of power.
Two: Demencia messing with him.
Flug deemed this one least likely to happen just on the basis that Demencia was simply put, just not smart enough to have done this and this was not in the realm of her ability to conjure this .
Three: Black Hat was messing with him.
This theory was also crossed out because Flug knew Black Hat’s method of scares and it usually consisted of appearing right after the scare to gloat and prod at him for his ‘humanly weaknesses’. This evidently was not his work.
Four: He was hallucinating this all.
He hesitated for a moment, then slowly nudged the TV screen again. Solid.
…huh problem solved! He just hallucinated all that and needed more sleep!
But is he gonna get it? …Of course not!
Just then, a growl reverberates through the entire manor, “DR. FLUG SLYS DO I NEED TO SKIN YOU ALIVE AND COOK YOUR INTESTINES UNDER HELL’S FLAMES?!”
“Ah, r-right away, sir! Just a moment..!”
—
It’s later at night when he is finally able to finish the new DeBirth RayGun™ prototype and is getting ready to head off to bed that he recalls the weird encounter with the TV.
He supposes that now is the time to review and mull it over in his head.
Flug knows, knows , that he doesn't have any supernatural powers.
Back when he was younger, still aspiring to be a hero, his parents had taken him to a specialist. Not just any specialist, a hero specialist whose only job was to find out if people had powers or could ever develop powers. It had been a crushing disappointment when his dreams went up in smoke, when the specialist revealed the diagnosis that he, would never, could never develop powers.
That he would never (could never) live up to his brother. So just like that, he was tossed aside in favor of the ‘golden’ boy.
Perhaps they were wrong.
But what if he was hallucinating it all? What then?
Agh, whatever it was too late (early? it was already 3 in the morning..) for this and he had more work in the morning.
He activated the cryo-bed and d r i f t e d.