Our Own Private Bug Army- Jowen

DMA

"Who the hell are you?!" Owen cried, jumping back away from the figure, who was coughing as he pulled himself to his feet.

"Shit, I hit the ground hard." Junior wheezed. He reached up to his face, relieved to find not only his nose in tact, but also his sunglasses.

Owen waved his hand in front of the new man's face. "Can you fuckin' hear me?! Who. The hell. Are you?!" He demanded.

Junior smacked the hand away, glaring up through the pink frames at whoever had the audacity to wave his hand in the face of- no one knew who he was, did they.

"My name-" He stood up, dusting himself off. Wow, ancient Earth was so dusty. "-is Junior."

Owen narrowed his eyes. "Just Junior? No last name? How do you expect me to believe that?"

"Well, in my time, we don't really have-"

"In your time?!" Owen exclaimed. "What the HELL does that mean?!"

Junior looked confused at Owen's surprise. "What, a magic man falling out of the sky doesn't SCREAM time travel?"

Owen screwed up his face, trying not to laugh as Junior's face twisted into a grin. "Well, that's true, but it doesn't answer my question."

Junior rolled his eyes. "But it does lead into mine. I'm working on a project and need someone's help."

"Whose help? Did you intend on raising a national panic after crushing my bones?"

"What" No! I just need- national panic...? No! I just need someone to come back with me, and show that the machine worked. Maybe help me with some other things for a while. Cleaning my room, watching the space dogs, raising a killer bug army..."

"Did you say killer bug army?" Owen cleared his throat. "I mean... what would be in it for me?"

"Uh, galactic glory and getting to raise a fucking bug army!" Junior grinned, but Owen did not look impressed.

"Is that it?"

"Uh... I'd also let you have some of my pot, I guess. And I could show you around the space death star. It's like the Death Star from that ancient film, but it's actually in space and it's not CGI. With the big planet-killing guns and everything." Junior had a big goofy grin on his face talking about it.

Owen shook his head. "The only words I got were 'planet-killing guns'."

Junior nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah, Star Wars might be ahead of your time. But what do you think?"

Owen mulled over the shorter man's offer. As much as he was excited to attend his actions & methods lecture and watch Curt stare like a drunk fish at the training videos, the idea of a planet-killing gun... and escaping another gadgets class with his buffoon partner. And this cute- this eccentric future man with what sounded like a badass giant starship and copious amounts of pot... he couldn't really find a reason to say no.

"And if I say no?"

Junior's smile immediately fell off his face. "Oh... then I guess I'll find someone else." He looked so disappointed that Owen couldn't even enjoy his suffering- a weird feeling for Owen. Guilt, maybe? He didn't know. Who cares?

"No no, chap. I'll go with you. No worries." Owen tried to give a reassuring smile. To make him stop with the puppy face. He looks stupid like that.

All the energy returned to Junior in an instant. "Awesome! I get to show you off to the class, then I can show you the world after the robot war, and you can see my ship too!" He patted his pockets to ensure his return device was still present, pulling it out and fiddling with it.

I fucking knew that technology was going to kill us all one day. Nobody listens to me. "Oh, spies will never leave the field!" Curt says. "Technology's here to help us!" Barb says. Bull. Shite. Owen was glaring at the ground at the mention of a robot war, while Junior went on, before he suddenly stopped, eyebrows furrowed with concentration. "Alright, I got it. Ready to go?"

"Sure, I always keep spare things on me." Owen picked up his bag from the ground dumping a few textbooks out on the ground to make room for the bomb.

Junior's eyes widened. "Are those real paper? Genuine paper space textbooks?"

Owen raised an eyebrow. "Yes, my good sir. They are, in fact, paper. But not from space." Junior had picked one up, and he was flipping through it in wonder.

"Well, we can't leave them! I'll bring them so we can show them, too." He picked up 2 of them, but he couldn't get the third off the ground. "Holy shit, now I know why we stopped carrying these."

Owen smiled, gently taking the books out of Junior's arms and holding them easily. "I'll carry them, thank you. They came from my bag anyways."

Junior nodded, and picked up the last one, handing it to Owen. "Alright! To my space lecture hall we go" He went to hit the button, then stopped, realising he had forgotten something. "Oh yeah, what's your name? I'm going to have to introduce you."

"My name?" Owen paused. Should he really tell this complete stranger, from the future no less, what his real name was? No, no he had a much better idea.

"You can call me DMA."

"What's that stand for?"

"Deadliest Man Alive."