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frozenjokes · 3 days

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Unbeknownst To Grian, Doc Hasn’t Had A Real Conversation With A Person In 15 Years, And It’s About To Be Grian’s Problem

Grian did not like to be predictable. He didn’t like to follow expectations, he didn’t like to give people what they wanted. This could manifest in small, annoying ways; if something he was curious about got popular, he was more likely to lose interest, think negatively of it for no reason. Grian valued uniqueness in his craft. If he was going to fuck with someone, he would do so in the most creative possible way, and just so much as seeing a similar idea online to one of his own was enough to void all his motivation.

If Grian was going to make his mark, he would not do so giving the people what they wanted. He’d change the game. He’d sprint as fast as his legs would take him against the grain.

They wanted him and Scar.

The clips from yesterday had gone completely viral, Scar’s suggestion to velcro himself to Grian’s back so they could fight together to retrieve his legs from the villainous Goat spawning waves of excited chatter, cheering, and trending hashtags to varying degrees of ridiculousness. Now, even if Grian had wanted to team up with Scar like this in the first place, the amount of insistent attention would be enough to change his mind in a snap of an instant. Please. He was not some showpony that lived to serve the community. If he was going to put on a show, it would be on his own terms, superheroes be damned.

So that’s how Grian found himself at The Goat’s doorstep, a massive, impending thing. Most supervillains took utmost care in hiding their identities and home addresses; they had to, otherwise the police force would have no reason to pretend they couldn’t arrest them. The Goat, however, was an exception. This place could hardly be called a house; it was more like a fortress that loomed over the entire city, spires like lightning rods collecting energy from storms in a light show that you could see for miles. While The Goat had been arrested several hundred times by now (he’d been around for as long as Grian could remember, very possibly before he was born), he never quite stayed in jail, always finding a way to escape in one way or another. At this point, it was common knowledge that The Goat was only ever taken into custody because he wanted to be; successfully imprisoned for only however long he allowed. While quite famous, The Goat also happened to be a bit of a hermit, only surfacing from his lair once or twice a month, so really, it was pretty unlucky for Scar to come across him the one day he had chosen to lay pathetically on the concrete, legs ripe for the stealing.

Regardless, this mysterious reclusiveness made the villain quite popular among many, his nonchalance combined with the insanity of some of his works of engineering drawing a great deal of attention. That, and people were just outright thirsting over him. Unabashedly horny. Grian had never seen The Goat in person before, but he’d seen enough pictures to understand- not that he agreed or anything, just that it made sense. The Goat was a big guy, like, big; Grian didn’t know the logistics of his exact species, but he was a sort of centaur-like creature, built like a clydesdale but even taller, half of his chest, left arm, and face entirely cybernetic, armaments that were constructed by the man himself.

It was at this point that Grian realized he was stalling. In fairness, he wasn’t exactly sure what to do with himself. The knocker was purposefully high above the typical human height, something he could reach regardless with a flap of his wings, but it was relatively obvious The Goat did not like visitors. Grian wondered how many civilians had turned up at this very doorstep, only to be ignored for hours until they left. Would The Goat even care about CuteGuy? Maybe he had seen all the hubbub online and would keep him locked out on purpose. Grian hadn’t really considered that before coming. Honestly, with all the cameras around, it was very likely The Goat already knew he was here.

Well. No time like the present!

Grian beat his wings in a small jump, but the door swung open before he could reach the knocker, causing him to fall and stumble a little pathetically at cloven feet. He looked up. Holy shit.

“Speak of your intention,” The Goat spoke gruffly, tucking his hands away in the pockets of his long lab coat. Grian had to crane his neck just to see his face, a dark, cold expression looking natural on The Goat’s imposing figure. His eyes were pupil-less, narrowed and difficult to read, but Grian didn’t detect any hostility. Maybe he was delusional, but it almost looked like The Goat was more curious than anything, interest evident in the way his mechanical eye moved in quick saccades, taking all of him in. Grian took a deep breath, puffing out his chest.

“Just wanted to hang out, that’s all. This is a pretty secluded place, you know, thought I might be able to get away from all the mess,” Grian forcibly relaxed his shoulders, waving his hand in a vague gesture.

“Hang out?” The Goat said the words like they tasted bitter, but then again, he said most things as if they left an unpleasant taste in his mouth, “You sure you’re not looking for anything?”

“If you’re referring to HotGuy’s legs, then no, I’m not looking for them. I don’t care about him or his legs, actually! I’m more concerned with my reputation, that being, how good it’s been lately. I think this city needs a reminder that I don’t work for anyone.”

The Goat chuckled, the sound far more soft and pleasant than Grian would have thought he could produce. “Is that so?” he mused, and Grian hoped that was interest behind his tone, “You don’t serve our government? Contractually? Won’t they be displeased to see another of their pets mingling with the enemy?”

Grian scoffed, “I don’t serve anyone. As far as I’m concerned, they’re being scammed out of a paycheck. And no, honestly, I don’t think they care what I do so long as it drums up media attention and puts more coin in their pockets. So long as it’s advertiser friendly.”

“I hear you are famously not, friend.”

“Well that’s not my problem.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure.”

“The court of public opinion indicates otherwise. People are crazy about me, nearly as much as HotGuy. It would be stupid to let me go, not before they milk my novelty for everything it’s worth. By then I’ll be rich enough to retire or something, I don’t know. That’s a problem for future Grian.”

“Grian?” Grian’s heart dropped as The Goat smirked, lips raising just enough to reveal pointed teeth. But just as Grian started to stutter to a defense, the villain laughed, drowning him out, “Do not fret, I could not care about any person’s identity, superhero or no. Nor do I particularly care to shield mine. Please Grian, call me Doc. Follow me.” Doc turned without another word, leaving Grian to gape as his massive hooves kicked up clouds of dust. Doc did not look to see if he was following nor slow his pace, so Grian had to run to catch up. Nine foot tall monsters walked very fast it turns out! And if Doc noticed Grian struggling to keep up, he certainly didn’t show it.

It occurred a little late to Grian that he should probably be keeping track of where he was going and how he’d escape if necessary, but Doc’s fortress had so many twists and turns, by the time he had the sense to think of this, he was already hopelessly lost. Well. Hopefully Doc wasn’t planning on dissecting him and displaying his wings on a pedestal or something. (Many of The Goat’s fans seemed to insist this was a big thing for Doc, though, Grian could not find any actual evidence of any dissections occurring. On second thought, those people were probably just horny.) Oh well.

Eventually, the two of them reached an elevator with, quite frankly, an alarming amount of floors- “What do you need this much space for?'' The thought was spoken aloud before Grian could stop himself, far more judgemental than would be advised for the company he was keeping today, but luckily, Doc didn’t seem to care.

“The lower floors are where The Hivemind works. Building, innovating, grindingoptimizingautomatingthriving, you know. A lot of the space is storage from past projects, and upkeep generally takes a lot of my time. My machinery can get to be quite large. You will not see most of it. We aren’t going down far.” Doc selected B1, making Grian question why they were even taking the elevator if they were only going down one floor, but after a particularly long ride, he got some idea.

Basement Floor 1 was massive and sprawling and dark. Grian had better eyesight than most, even at night, but the only parts of the ceiling he could see were spots of reflective metal and small pools of light that bounced off stalactites.

“Do- do those ever fall?” Grian asked, eyes wide at the ceiling, and Doc stopped, turning in a slow swivel so Grian could see his entire upper half.

“Yes.” He flexed the fingers on his mechanical arm, glowing red eye boring into Grian, “It is a good thing The Hivemind is smart. And quick. Though, after the second incident, we hope to have fixed the problem. On the other floors. My workstation remains as it is.”

“You- You can’t just knock them all down?”

“I can. But I believe that if God wishes for me to be struck down, then she should have the means to do so herself. She’s gotten a couple good shots in,” Doc narrowed his physical eye, and Grian was pretty sure there was humor there, “but she knows I am above her power. So instead we will continue to feud, and I will continue to break her precious world. And if one day I die, then I would have it to be no other way than by her hand.”

“If-?”

Doc only laughed, continuing to walk down the corridor. Grian was forced to follow lest he be left behind.

It occurred too late to Grian that he probably shouldn’t be surprised Doc was leading him to see Scar’s legs. Regardless, Doc was amused, chuckling when Grian took a sharp breath.

“I wanted him to come and get them. With or without you. Worked all night on the programming with The Hivemind, though, turns out that wasn’t necessary. You two are slow. HotGuy isn’t even here.”

Grian cast a nervous look at Scar’s legs, laid flat on a desk next to a large monitor. The workspace had the feel of an organized mess, all the clutter making it difficult to tell what exactly Doc had done. Well, if he was programming something, Grian wouldn’t be able to see it anyway. Were- were the legs even programmable? How would that work?

“What did you do to them?” Grian finally said, feeling incredibly daft at the note of worry he failed to suppress.

Doc snorted. “Nothing. I did make a mechanical waist though,” he hummed, shaking his head, “Well, that’s not true, I’ve had the actual machine bit made for a while now, I just did most of the other stuff last night. It’s been some time since I’ve gotten a look at these, and the technology has advanced significantly since then. At least my tech has; imagine my surprise when I see his useless government agency has hardly updated his prosthetics at all! If it’s not broke don’t fix it I suppose, but these are certainly broke. I’ll make sure to get started on a prototype for an update soon, yeesh. Regardless, after digging through my old blueprints, it wasn’t hard to hook everything up to a little remote control. Oh, his face will be priceless. His own legs greeting him at the door and kicking his ass?” Doc laughed, missing Grian’s open mouth gaping, “Unfortunately balance is still an issue, I obviously didn’t have time to work out all the kinks, but I’m just here to mess with him, it’ll be serviceable for-“

“Wait- Wait-“ Doc did not look happy about being interrupted, fixing Grian with a glare that stopped him directly in his tracks.

“Go on.”

“You made his prosthetics? His legs?”

“Obviously. Who else would have made them? Have you seen the typical modern-day prosthetic? They’re nothing like mine, borderline barbaric. Of course, mine are quite expensive, and people don’t just go and commission a guy like me over the table. HotGuy’s parents must love their son very much, though, they threw a whole tissy when I told them I’d need to visit him in the hospital. Idiots. As if I would trust anyone other than myself to collect the measurements I needed. They made me arrive under a sheet-“ Doc cut himself off with a groan, “The things I put up with sometimes. HotGuy’s lucky it was an interesting project. Human legs are very different from my own, so I wouldn’t be messing with them without an excuse. Of course, he grew up to be a fucking pain in the ass, didn’t he. Could have done a better job just raising the kid myself.” Grian had so many questions, but Doc hardly even stopped to breathe when he spoke, and Grian wasn’t about to interrupt a second time.

“Fuck, if they haven’t updated the legs, they probably haven’t touched his back either. Did you know that? His lower back was completely shattered- now that was an interesting project. Idiots, seriously, commissioning me to make their son legs when he’d never be able to use them. I ended up doing a lot of work on that boy, and not one thank you. Not from him all these years later or his useless family. He’d still be in that hospital bed without me, I know it. I bet if they’d let me have my way with him he would have been walking in under a year. But no, no, I was only on the project for two years, and I believe it lasted five? Six? Those idiots made me sign an NDA and everything!” Doc barked a hard laugh, “What are they going to do? Take me to court? Arrest me? Stupid. Amusing in hindsight, but they were insufferable.”

“I- okay. I mean, it’s not like this is common knowledge or anything. I feel like I would have seen this somewhere by now if the public knew you made all his prosthetics.”

“Oh no, the information isn’t public. I’d rather peel off my skin than be associated with that lot, and I’m sure HotGuy’s managers feel similarly about me. There’s a reason his prosthetics are so outdated- look, feel this. The movement at the joints is awful!” Doc took Grian’s hand, uncaring for his own strength as he yanked Grian forward to touch (something that felt deeply invasive toward Scar, though, it wasn’t like Grian had a choice) as Doc bent the knee. Grian had no idea what he was supposed to be feeling here, but Doc must have mistaken his discomfort for agreement because he let go right after.

Grian cleared his throat, rubbing his wrist, “And you think HotGuy knows?”

“Knows what?”

“That you made his prosthetics. I’m just curious, I mean.. He’s never mentioned it- not that we’re close or anything. It just feels like something that might have come up before to uh- well I don’t know if dating is the right word, but he and my roommate have something going on-“

Doc rolled his eyes with a huff, “Of course HotGuy knows! He’s just conceited like the rest of his family- his workforce for that matter. God forbid the public know how blurry the lines between ‘hero’ and ‘villain’ actually are. The only actual reason I’ve got the government breathing down my neck is due to the IRS- no, I will not be paying ridiculous sums to DC just for the money to be wasted on international affairs the States have no business sticking their nose into anyway. I only immigrated for the, quite frankly, insane lack of weapons regulation. You can do whatever the fuck you want in America. Regardless, I’d do better to put that money into the community myself.”

“Do you?”

“Not locally, I have a reputation to uphold and I like this shithole the way it is. Occasionally if I see something that really pisses me off I’ll pour some money into it.” Doc scowled, like the thought of doing any good at all was deeply unappealing, “For the most part though, I only keep tabs on the world as it pertains to me. I care very little for pettiness.”

Grian snorted. “Is using HotGuy’s own prosthetics to kick his ass because he never said ‘thank you,’ not petty?”

“For personal matters, I indulge. Most of the time however, I am far too busy for nonsense such as this. Speaking of, I have work to do, so I am going to hold you for ransom to speed this up. Do you have a problem with that?”

“If I comply, do I get a share of the cash?”

“You can take whatever you want. I just want HotGuy here.”

Grian’s wings fluttered, his mind already moving miles a minute, “Do you need a picture? Oh please, let’s take pictures. Something fun, ambiguous- I really want to mess with him.”

“Can I not just take a picture of you right here. Maybe try to look at least mildly unhappy, I’d like if HotGuy had a reason to be prompt.”

“Oh he’ll be prompt- do you have a tripod or something? We don’t need one obviously, I just feel like you’d be the type of guy to have something like that on hand. Do you? How do you feel about the lightest of the light kind of suggestive pictures? I think it would be funny. Ambiguously suggestive. Honestly, I just kinda feel like you’d be a fun person to pose with, y’know? I have a vision. Just saying, if you really want to fuck with HotGuy, this would go crazy. Your fans would go NUTS. Do you know about your fans? I saw some things while doing research.”

Doc snorted, ears flicking in what Grian was pretty sure was amusement, “You remind me of a man I knew long ago,” he sighed, sounding dangerously wistful. His eyes shone as he raised a shaking fist to the ceiling.

“You don’t have to divulge-“ Grian started in great alarm, but there was no stopping the rapidly approaching trauma exposition hurdling his way.

“Ren was a brilliant man. Awkward, but damn clever, an incredibly talented engineer with ideas to rival my own. Struck down too soon, too soon. Sometimes I wonder if that stalactite was meant for me, or if it was meant as a punishment greater than death. She knew I would try to bring him back, friend. She knew he would come back wrong.”

“This seems really personal-“

“A hippie.” Doc growled, and Grian got the sense this train was not slowing down any time soon. Might as well settle in.

#hermitcraft #hermitfic #hermitshipping #grian #gtws #goodtimeswithscar #docm77 #cubscarian hotguy au #hotguy #cuteguy

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