Cliff studied the bomb for a moment, then better angled his torso so that his chest camera got a good shot of it.
"C'mon Chief," he said, tapping the side of his head to activate the communicator built into it. "Don't go tellin' me you've never seen a bomb like this before. Ain't you the resident egghead?"
"It's nitroglycerine based, and it looks like the trigger is set for motion. The slightest jolt could set it off."
There's a pause over the com line. "Rita, I think you could get inside the mechanism if you decreased your size enough. You'll need to become about five inches high."
It's a cramped place, even for someone of her size. There's a dizzying array of circuit boards, wires, solder, and chips put together with the cohesion of a David Lynch film.
"We're going to have to look for the fuse mechanism. Unfortunately, this 'Technobomber' hasn't used anything resembling standard wiring. We're going to have to check the circuit board. Rita, is there anything that looks like a silver circle on the largest board?"
In the meantime, Cliff is keeping an careful eye and ear out. Which also gives him a good ear for other things.
Freaks...
Why'd we have to get these weirdos?
Where's Superman when you need him?
Betcha they caused this in the first place...
It never failed. No matter how much good they did, they would never be as well regarded as the JLA or the Teen Titans or the Challengers or even the freakin' Metal Men.
He's not the only one hearing the comments. However, there's not just the things said that he's able to perceive, but all the things that people just don't say out loud.
I don't think they can do it... Please, Jesus, let it work... I wonder if I can still get my car out of there. How am I going to explain this to my insurance guy? Damn it, they interrupted me in the middle of a critical phone call. I'm going to lose thousands!
The input he's getting from the crowd almost drops him to his knees. It's like the dinner party from hell, and he thought those were bad before. For a second, Steve considers ripping the thing off his head to make it stop.
He manages to throw up in a trash can, and try to compose himself. Find Doom Patrol. Find the minds focused on the bomb and not all the petty garbage he really doesn't care about.
And that's when he hears them. It's stunning, and he knows it's them because he's spent the last five months studying them and trying to learn how they worked
( ... )
Larry hasn't really been paying attention. There are couple of smokin' hotties on the cordon that apparently dig the 'Imhotep in a lycra onesie' look. Damn that %&!#-blocking sonuva...
"On it, Chief. Okay ladies, how 'bout a little trust exercise?"
He throws himself into the not-really-waiting arms of the two police officers, the Negative Spirit powering through his chest and after the device. Diving for it, the anthropomorphic eclipse recoils suddenly, hissing with pain.
"Aaah--!!" comes Larry's stifled cry from the other side of the room, "No use, I'm getting some kind of interference... is it too late for me to vote we high-tail it?"
It's rare that the Chief is thrown. The mystery man in the wheelchair seems to have a superpower of his own - knowing things he oughtn't, and usually well in advance.
"What? Doom Patrol, this newcomer is not authorized."
"C'mon Chief," he said, tapping the side of his head to activate the communicator built into it. "Don't go tellin' me you've never seen a bomb like this before. Ain't you the resident egghead?"
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There's a pause over the com line. "Rita, I think you could get inside the mechanism if you decreased your size enough. You'll need to become about five inches high."
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"We're going to have to look for the fuse mechanism. Unfortunately, this 'Technobomber' hasn't used anything resembling standard wiring. We're going to have to check the circuit board. Rita, is there anything that looks like a silver circle on the largest board?"
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C'mon, Rita... You can do this...
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Freaks...
Why'd we have to get these weirdos?
Where's Superman when you need him?
Betcha they caused this in the first place...
It never failed. No matter how much good they did, they would never be as well regarded as the JLA or the Teen Titans or the Challengers or even the freakin' Metal Men.
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I don't think they can do it...
Please, Jesus, let it work...
I wonder if I can still get my car out of there. How am I going to explain this to my insurance guy?
Damn it, they interrupted me in the middle of a critical phone call. I'm going to lose thousands!
The input he's getting from the crowd almost drops him to his knees. It's like the dinner party from hell, and he thought those were bad before. For a second, Steve considers ripping the thing off his head to make it stop.
He manages to throw up in a trash can, and try to compose himself. Find Doom Patrol. Find the minds focused on the bomb and not all the petty garbage he really doesn't care about.
And that's when he hears them. It's stunning, and he knows it's them because he's spent the last five months studying them and trying to learn how they worked ( ... )
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"Rita! The circuit's developed a short! Get out of there now. Larry, take Negative Man and get that thing as high as you can before it blows!"
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Larry hasn't really been paying attention. There are couple of smokin' hotties on the cordon that apparently dig the 'Imhotep in a lycra onesie' look. Damn that %&!#-blocking sonuva...
"On it, Chief. Okay ladies, how 'bout a little trust exercise?"
He throws himself into the not-really-waiting arms of the two police officers, the Negative Spirit powering through his chest and after the device. Diving for it, the anthropomorphic eclipse recoils suddenly, hissing with pain.
"Aaah--!!" comes Larry's stifled cry from the other side of the room, "No use, I'm getting some kind of interference... is it too late for me to vote we high-tail it?"
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Negative Man and Elasti-girl haven't taken care of it, and there's too much nitro even for Robotman's construction. Looks like it's on him.
"Gentlemen...and madam, step aside. The name is Mento, and I'll be your bomb squad tonight."
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"What? Doom Patrol, this newcomer is not authorized."
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Well, technically, his second degree was in engineering, but that's not relevant now ( ... )
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