Steam-powered Shenanigans (for notaparker)

[slowspeedster]

To say that Bart had a plan was usually a case of being overly optimistic. In this case, he would have to be very grateful to Jessica for actually making the idea come together. He'd just wanted to tinker with the various mechanical contraptions and maybe build something of his own. The chances of anything being built during the island's holiday mood theme sicking around afterwards was essentially zero, so it couldn't be anything elaborate.

Thankfully one of them was good at planning the whole thing out, because they’d totally needed it by the end. Bart mostly did a lot of running out for parts. And felt really guilty about that, to be honest. Still, putting together their own mechanized wonder in about a week really wasn’t a bad deal.

The actual project turned out to be a lot easier than they'd had any right to expect, possibly because they just had to find a way to mount a motor on a rebuild bike chassis. In the garage, the steam-powered motorcycle looked to be running perfectly, but that didn't mean that it was a perfect idea to go with a test drive.

And there could be kinks to work out. Or spot repairs to make. Or something. Bart wasn’t really sure, but there usually was something that went wrong. The universe just worked that way. At least they didn’t actually have to worry about the phantom Londoners. They didn’t seem to be solid enough to actually run over in the event of an accident.

"I think I should be the one doing the test drive," Bart commented, as they wheeled the bike out. "I think you'd be in trouble with someone if you end up in the clinic again."

Comments

[notaparker]

"I think I'd be in trouble with myself, too, I wouldn't be happy," I say, bending slightly to check that the wheels are revolving properly as we wheel it out.

"Not that I'm going to be thrilled if you end up in ye olde clinic. Which isn't going to happen."

[slowspeedster]

"Lightning-fast reflexes, remember?" Bart joked. "Well, on the upper end of the scale, anyway. I'm in no hurry to break anything."

He grinned anyway. "Couldn't have gotten this far without you, you know. There weren't any books in the library on building a steam-cycle. Are we going to call it that? There's got to be a good name."

[notaparker]

"Steam-cycle makes it sound like it gets difficult stains out of fabrics," I say, giving it a look over, trying to decide what an appropriate name for the contraption is.

As contraptions go, I'm pretty proud of it. Working within the constaints of the time period, we still have something that will run pretty well.

I think. I'm pretty sure. It should hold up.

"We could always call it the Bartmobile."

[slowspeedster]

"Tell me about it. And no, we are not naming it a Bart-anything. Especially since I'll probably never hear the end to what happened the one time Robin let me drive the Batmobile. And it was totally Beast Boy's fault," he complained. "Maybe we should have added a sidecar. The 'Jessicar?'"

Teasing was par for the course, at least. It made things much more comfortable, like being with any of the Titans. Even if Jessica didn't have powers, she was more like one of them. Well, she was a total genius hottie, but that was just who she was.

[notaparker]

"Oh my god, that's terrible," I say, bracing the bike against my hip for a moment so I can applaud, before going back to supporting it so it doesn't tip against the other person wheeling it along. "I love it. If I ever have a car, that's the licence plate. So... when you crashed the Batmobile, did it lose a wheel? Is that where that song lyric comes from?"

[slowspeedster]

"Pretty sure that one was around long before that," Bart said, smirking. "And it didn't lose a wheel, it just got, um, inverted."

He wasn't even going that fast. "I've been up against the Riddler, but nobody wants to do anything that involves that clown."

But that wasn't the real issue here. "Still, names. Every good invention needs one, or you get stuck with something like the mouse."

[notaparker]

I resist the urge to declare it the Spider-Cycle, and once again consider the idea on just spilling, already. One of the Batgirls already worked me out, in addition to the Captain America that already did. It's not entirely contained.

Except that's probably reason to stay on top of it. The more people who know, the less control of it I have. Which doesn't make me feel any better about it.

"What's wrong with the mouse? What else should it be called, the Cursortron 2000?"

[slowspeedster]

"Actually, there is a tale that may be apocryphal that it's called a cursor because that's what you do when you're trying to figure out where the hell it moved to," Bart said. "But they always intended to give it a proper name later. And then it didn't."

He shrugged. "I'm thinking our lovely Victorian Jurassic Park would be the best place to test this baby out. Not much in the way of traffic out there."

[notaparker]

"Apocryphal it may be, but I'm absolutely telling people that's how it is," I say, craning my head to figure out how we get to Victorian Jurassic Park from here. "This way, right?"

[slowspeedster]

"Yeah," Bart said. "On the plus side, the current mood theme means that there's taxi service from Club Titan to anywhere, but we're still right next to the dinosaurs. And I have one unhappy bat who does not like having to stay in the conservatory."

Which probably was part of why he'd been looking for a nice project to get involved in.

[notaparker]

"And you have Bob, too!" I say. Get it? Because he was talking about said bat, but I made like he was talking about one of the Batpeople. Okay, maybe not my greatest work, and kind of nonsensical, but fun.

"But man, I don't know if I trust Steam Taxis, Inc.," I say. "Obviously I'm okay with the vehicles-" I nod at the one we're wheeling along, as proof, "-but the whole Ghost Driver bit weirds me out some."

[slowspeedster]

"On the plus side, Bob doesn't pick locks, keep files on what to do if you turn evil, or any of the usual bat-crazy," Bart retorted. He knew she was teasing back, and knew about the Bat-family Robinson, but it was still a little weird. "Well, he would pick locks, but he's all thumbs."

He shrugged on the ghosts. "It kinda adds to the ambiance, though. A little Dickens, a little Shelley, a whole lot of creepy."

[notaparker]

"I think I like my seasonal ambiance more traditional," I say, sidestepping the fact that as authors go, Shelley kind of touches a nerve. Not like anything she wrote could be personally relevant to yours truly, right? Nah.

I'm probably safe from Ghosts of Christmas Past, for that matter. No Christmasses past, as such.

"A little Grinch, a little Rudolph, a whole lot of presents."

[slowspeedster]

"Christmas back home usually meant someone tried to play Grinch for real," Bart pointed out. "Or maybe a little more Nightmare Before Christmas. If we were lucky, the worst thing that happened was something like Abra Kadabra making Tiffany's disappear so he could steal the diamonds."

[notaparker]

"Silly villain, if it's disappeared, there are no diamonds to steal," I tut, although presumably he means it was teleported somewhere, which I guess is one way to do it. "There's a supervillain named Abra Kadabra? Does he have a pair of henchpeople named Hocus and Pocus?"

[slowspeedster]

"The really fun part is he does all his heists with smoke and mirrors," Bart said. "But nah, he's mostly a solo act."

Bart couldn't help if he felt a bit of a shiver as he remembered the look on Kadabra's face when he realized Bart and Inertia had the same eyes. "I guess by the sixty-whatever'th century he's running from, all the good shticks are taken."

[notaparker]

"That is a lot of time to run through schticks," I agree. "Enough time to run through them twice, and have them become retro schticks."

[slowspeedster]

"Right, exactly. Some things are strange that way. I never really got it, you know," Bart admitted. "Anyway, we're almost there. Ready to see how this runs off the blocks?"

[notaparker]

"Oh, yeah," I say, kicking up one heel with enthusiasm. "Let's get this show literally on the road. How about you, lightning reflexes at the ready?"

[slowspeedster]

"You bet your slowpoke...uh, pretend I came up with something properly witty there?" Bart said, as he pulled the leather padded helmet that was the best they could find in the way of protection. He was already wearing tall riding boots and as much leather as he could find.

It just made sense to play things as safe as possible. Which was part of why he took a long moment to watch the gauges as they started firing the engine. "So, what does my chief mechanic say?"

[notaparker]

I examine the gauges, then crouch and check that the gears and mechanisms are all working as they're supposed to. Which, they are, but since it's not actually moving, they're not doing much. It'll be motion that'll be the real test.

"I say fire her up," I say, stepping back and throwing a mock salute. "She's as ready as she's going to get."

[slowspeedster]

"Well, here goes nothing!" Bart said, and pushed off, letting the bike slowly start moving. It took a moment to get up to speed, and then he was off, taking a careful turn as soon as there was room to turn around and drive past with a whoop of joy.

[notaparker]

I pump a fist as he goes past, because hey, it's working. That's pretty damned swell. I just find it pretty satisfying to put things together and have them do what they're meant to.

"How's it handle?" I call, lowering my arm and cupping both hands to my mouth as a loudspeaker.

[slowspeedster]

It wasn't really possible to do more, but he gave her a thumb's up as he turned to look at Jessica. It was amazing enough that they'd managed to cobble this together, but to have it work well, that was even better.

And that was when the unexpected happened. His gaze wasn't on the path, and he hit a patch of slush, just enough that one wheel went one way and the other... There was only one way to take that fall, and it was going to end up with the bike on top of him if he was lucky.

[notaparker]

"I'll take that as ohshit."

Everything is going fine, and then suddenly the entire bike is careening out of control, and the damn thing runs on steam. It might not be likely to explode -- not ruling it out, things can always get worse -- but it's liable to scald, or-

Yeah, or worse, because he's tipping over, it's going to come down on top of him.

I launch into a run after him and the bike, skidding past the same patch of slush as I pursue. He's going faster than I am, but that's not going to remain so, and that's... that's going to be bad.

[slowspeedster]

"Stay clear!" Bart screamed, even as he felt his leg start to scrape on the gravel path, the weight of the bike coming down as he tried to kick free, letting the machine's greater inertia take it past.

Then all he felt was pain, immediate, and intense. And all he could pray was that it wasn't his knee. Not again.

[notaparker]

"Like hell!" I say, because staying clear might mean not getting there in time to- I don't know, there's not much I can do here, because by the time I'm even close the steam-cycle is past and the damage is done. All I can do is watch it skid onwards and keep hurrying towards Bart. "Oh, this is going to be bad, this is- this is not good."

[slowspeedster]

Bart was still trying to to figure out what he'd done, what he'd injured. He wasn't exactly sure because it was impossible to separate the sensations. He was afraid he was going to black out.

"How...how bad?"

[notaparker]

He's alive, so that's one terrifying concern out of the way.

"You're still conscious!" I say, as my way of putting a positive spin on things. "Uh, it's- kind of around three oh craps on the scale. I'm not too sure. Don't- please don't try to get up."

[slowspeedster]

"For now," Bart said, well aware that he that status could easily change. His head was starting to pound, and hoped that there was nothing wrong with his artificial knee. "Don't think...moving's an issue."

He tried to turn his head to look at her, and that was enough to make his vision swim. "Sorry."

[notaparker]

"Don't be sorry," I scold, looking around to try and see what I've got to work with. I need to make a stretcher or something. The obvious loose pieces are the remains of the not-the-Bartmobile, but since those are kind of really hot from steam they're probably not the best option. "Why are you even sorry, you're lying here injured! I'm sorry."

[slowspeedster]

Bart was trying to pay attention, really, but he was drifting in and out of awareness.

"Get..." and he couldn't force out the rest of the statement. One person alone couldn't safely carry a stretcher, even if he could be moved. And he couldn't do anything to help. He closed his eyes, just for a moment.

[notaparker]

"Help, yeah, got it," I say, swinging around wildly, then stepping into the street and throwing my arm up, virtually throwing myself into the path of one of the steam-powered carriages. That are apparently made by someone less prone to making crash-bait than I am.

"You! Yeah, you! Hold it, we need to get to the clinic, and I need... to figure out how to get him up in that carriage."

At least the driver seems solid enough to help, some, even if I'm not sold on help from one of the strange vanishing ghost folks of the city. I'll take what I can get.

[slowspeedster]

Bart roused a bit again as Jessica brought the cabby over, and he forced another dim smile.

"Watch...back," he warned, before gritting his teeth. He wouldn't scream, not while he needed to stay strong and on top of things. He needed to survive this, then the tongue-lashings to follow. But trying to keep track of things as he got slid across the bench seat of the carriage was better than just passing out. He reached out, catching one of Jessica's hands and squeezing. "Be...okay. Promise."

[notaparker]

"You better," I say, wincing at every slight bump and not-so-slight bump as we get him up and into the carriage, and then at every shift as I tell the driver where to go and it kicks into motion.

I try not to think about how ridiculous it would be if this one crashed or broke down or something. Best not to tempt fate. Further.

[slowspeedster]

Bart was still drifting in and out of consciousness as they pulled up to the clinic, most of his focus on not screaming with every bump. Everything hurt, and his head was swimming. "We there yet?" he asked, not for the first time.

[notaparker]

"And finally that's a yes," I say, with a great deal of relief, hopping down and shouting, "Hey, we got an injury here!"

Time to scrounge up some more folks, potentially real folks. And doctors, and get this treated, and it'll all be fine.

Maybe not fine. But adequate. Major, but not major. I'll take it over something worse, although obviously I'd rather it not have happened, or happened to me instead.