“Some people are aftports, I guess,” Bob says.
“Not the word choice I’d have used but your point is fair; some people are just jerks.” Firestorm said.
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Bob nods.
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Firestorm began heading to the kitchen; he felt like he was running a little lower than he’d like to be in terms of Energon.
Bob follows, not having anything else to do.
Firestorm reaches the kitchen/galley and climbs up to the shelf with a console to select what he wanted.
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Bob takes a seat.
“This doesn’t make any sense.” Fury hissed.
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“I can’t understand it much better than you can,” Doohickey confesses.
“Why do you persist?” The Moon asked.
“Maybe you oughta shoot it?” Bootleg suggests.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Fury replied,“We don’t know what that would do to him.”
“Well, digging didn’t hurt him,” Bootleg points out.
“It just lead to more weirdness.”
“What if it’s a test or something?” Doohickey wonders. “If it is something Mortilus put in, it might be trying to see how committed you are or something.”
Or just wants us to accept that the old Dynamo is gone, Bootleg thinks.
“I don’t know what to think,” Fury replied, frustrated.
“Try asking for the real Dynamo,” Doohickey suggests. “Not this weird eye-moon thing.”
“I’m looking for the real Dynamo!” Fury shouted.
“I, am the real Dynamo.” the moon replied.
“Last time I checked, Dynamo wasn’t an eye.” Fury hissed.
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“Doesn’t sound like any version of him,” Bootleg says. “Doesn’t talk like him or anything.”
“Perhaps this would help” the moon replied as the screen faded to staic before Fury fell into a chair, the void morphing into a rough approximation of a coffee shop, with a variety of the common place objects floating as though gravity had released its binds on them. Sitting across from Fury was Dynamo.
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