🌄 The Next Morning 🌄
Last night had been... exhausting. Otto and I had "watched" Suits. Now I was making coffee, sitting on the counter in sweatpants and Otto's sweatshirt.
And forgive me for beating a dead horse, but the silence. Dear God, there is no better sound.
Eventually Otto came in (he had slept later than usual) and he had an oddly grim face. Like he was about to deliver bad news. He poured himself some coffee and joined me on the counter.
"So, Tiny... I need a favor."
"Last night not enough?" Otto rolled his eyes.
"I was just wondering that, since my prototype is done, maybe I could test it out."
I looked at him, confused. Was he asking for permission? He very rarely asked permission when it came to lab etiquette.
"...yeah, sure, go ahead. I don't care if you test your mysterious "prototype". Just tell me how well it works once you're finished testing it."
Hah. Finished.
Otto's face creased, I clearly was missing something.
"You gotta understand Tiny, it's a weapon. I need to test it on people, not just aim it at a target and fire."
I rose my eyebrows.
"Bit kinky, don't you think, I mean I'm not one to judge but-"
"Tony, I'm saying I think we should use Beck to test the weapon! I mean he's just sitting around in one of the basements collecting dust. Why not make him useful?"
Honestly, I could not have cared less about what happened to Quentin Beck. I mean really, there's a difference between cute pining for someone and creepy pining for someone. Quentin was most definitely on the creepy side of that particular spectrum.
"Yeah, sure. I have no use for him. You can make Beck your official crash test dummy, or target, or whatever you need him for."
Otto hopped off the counter and ran down the steps to the lab, yelling 'Be right back!' over his shoulder.
While I waited, I drank my coffee and let my legs swing back in forth inches above the tiled flooring. I could hear crashes coming from the lab, but I ignored it; Otto was always bumping into stuff because of those damn arms.
Moments later, Otto came barreling up the stairs, his real feet not even touching the ground.
In his hand he held what looked like a gun, except is was more cylindrical, with a handle going all the way around the base.
"What in hell's did you create Otto."
"This," he said with a (very 🌟dramatic🌟) flourish "is my prototype."
"Yeah, I got that. What's it do, exactly."
Otto smirked "Watch." He pointed the end of the machine at our toaster, and flicked something on one side of the handles. The business end of the prototype began to spin. Then, in a split second, our toaster was toaster goo.
"Holy shit." I exclaimed.
"Yeah, I'm going to see how many layers of armour this thing can burn through before killing someone. Beck seems like a good enough lab rat."
I sipped my coffee, which was now getting cold.
"When will this be?" I asked. Otto slung the prototype over his shoulder.
"How about now?"
