The Days that Follow

Rex liked it better when he could call the bloodstain on the floor just a blob. Caesar would prefer it if his little brother would stop high jacking his way across the globe. Six would like to know who the hell thought it would be a good idea to spawn this nightmare. The Event has happened and these are the days that follow. AU

Chapter 1

Black. Then white. Blending into grey, shades of the three begin to form. Its dim – dark. Everything formless, floating at the edge of his awareness – teasing, pulling at his focus.

Black again.

Then grey, white, black all at the same time once more. There are more than shades now – now there are shapes. Everything still seems stifled, muted and somehow he knows that there should be more. Less than a foot from his face is a blob more dark and distinct than the other blobs he's trying to make out. Progress, though, right? It's flat and spread in an odd shape, but its shines with an odd light.

Ah. A window. He groans as everything turns black again- moving his head is Bad Idea number one so far- before his eyes manage to focus on the lighter shades of grey streaming through the window and hitting the blob thing in front of him. No, not grey anymore, just muted blues and greys and browns now. And red. The blob in front of his is a shiny red stretching out further before him – coming from him.

Blood. The blob is blood. He thinks he likes it better when he could just call it a blob. Maybe he will anyway.

Blood. He's bleeding and that is his blob that's bleeding out.

Sharp focus springs back so quickly, like a taught rubber band – "don't you dare shoot that thing in my lab!" – that it's painful. Like really painful. The kind of abstract pain where you want to purposefully step on a lego, stub your toe, do something to distract you from it.

"Guh." Carpet is pressed against his cheek, its warm and…sticky? Nope. That would be his blob that's sticking to his right cheek. Probably his hair too. He tries shifting from his stomach to his elbows – Bad Idea, take two – gasps from the effort it takes, arms shaking, knees stiff and sore.

The blob isn't as big as he thought. It still stings when he lightly presses a hand to the side of his head though. Ok – anything to do with his head is just a Bad Idea in general apparently.

Suddenly the light from the window glows a bit brighter, briefly illuminating the room, plain and bare as it is. Its small though, with one compact bed pressed up against one wall, no pictures or decorations of any kind, and – oops, there's the criminally ugly lamp stand (he could swear it was a glowing pink, even in the dark) responsible for all his Bad Ideas so far resting just behind him, speckled with red and glass scattered all around it. Briefly, he is tempted to step on it for good measure.

If he could get up that was. Stupid head with its stupid leaking blob.

Oh, right. He was – is – bleeding. From the lamp. How did that happen?

How…did it happen? Did he fall into the lamp and knock it over? Did he trip on its cord, pulling it on top of himself? Was it suddenly possessed by a malignant force bent on world domination, starting with his own demise?

I don't remember.

Everything looked much sinister now – especially the hot pink lamp. Shadows crept up the walls, deepened corners. Questions flooded his mind.

How did I get here? Where even is here? Is this my room? Do I even like hot pink lampshades?

Do I…I don't know what I…who… dawning horror. Panic.

Who am I?

"Help," Jerking back at the croak of his own voice, the sound echoed and bounced off the walls. It wasn't just quiet, he realized now. It was dead silent. Panic crawled down his throat and sat in his gut like a particularly gruesome and slimy toad. His head pounded.

What is my name?

"Help!" Nothing answered. Ignoring the brief, blackening screen across his vision and the trembling in his legs, he stood. "Help me!"

Who am I?

Nothing. The slimy toad burst into flame, hot and desperate. "Someone! Anyone – help!" The room had gone dark again and he scrambled to the walls, feeling across them. "Ouch!" Right – the broken glass. It stung, but it distracted him from the continuous pounding in his head at least. But where were his shoes? Did he even have shoes? "Anyone!?"

I don't know who I am!

As soon as small fingers felt the cool metal of the handle, he flung the door open – to darkness. "Is someone here? Help me!" he shouted down the hall – "…you know better. Inside voices, remember rule fourteen?" – and it just echoed. He couldn't hear a thing. He couldn't even see how far the hallway went either way or if there was another door anytime soon. Feeling the wall back on the inside of the room for – there! The light switched flicked and…. nothing. Everything stayed the muted shades of black and grey that you could only get at midnight.

He glanced ahead towards who knew what, then behind. At the plain room with his blob on the floor and the demented pink lamp right beside it.

He took off running. The cut from the glass on his foot hurt – "…don't worry it's just a cut, it'll be fine before you know it!" but he didn't care. There had to be someone around here who could help him. Right? There had to be.

What is my name?

…And if there wasn't? Well, he'd think of that when it got there.

"Don't worry Rex, it'll all be over soon".

0000100101000110010

The last thing Caesar remembered was take off.

An attempted take off, at any rate. Or was it the landing? He could assume that both had been sufficiently turbulent and either was as likely to have caused him to black out through physical trauma as the other. Speaking of trauma – what had hit him? Hopefully not his amplified magnet – with a few extra enhancements of course, but that was beside the point. The point being that it was heavy. And expensive, but mostly heavy.

His head throbbed painfully.

Takeoff. Right. Or landing. Either one, really. Maybe both; the last hour, potentially more, was a bit of a blur. Well, less a blur and more blinding lights and extreme chaos, but that didn't concern him as much.

What came before that, though – that was what concerned him.

"Computer," he grunted, rolling his tongue against the split on the inside of his cheek and tasting the tang of copper, "location please." Standing from where he lay sprawled on the floor beneath the main flight control console, Caesar groped along the wall for the emergency light switch.

No response. That could be problematic. "Computer – current location." Still nothing. Seconds later he found the light switch and flipped it, illuminating the entirety of his lab in a bright white light. It blinded him for a second, but he didn't mind. It was a good sign – one of the first he'd had in the last 24 hours. In comparison to what had just transpired - that thought wasn't as comforting as he'd hoped.

Blinking the spots from his vision, he took a moment to survey the damage. It was promising. Minimal damage to the interior of the workspace – a few of the consoles and more delicate instruments were beyond current repair capabilities, but it seemed as if the most vital of the mechanics of his mobile lab were at least salvageable. Everything beyond the emergency lights seemed to be offline, however.

Including even the sturdiest and most basic of his computer interfaces. "Computer – location." He hadn't expected it to work – but he liked to indulge in a healthy dose of superstition and chance. It kept his mind and thought process flowing and helped avoid stagnation. But never had he been so disappointed that the third time was, in fact, not the charm.

Unfortunate, but he'd worked with less – "...stop this madness, we don't have enough data! It's not ready – we don't have enough to work with and you know it- "

Gasping as his knees hit the floor, he swallowed back the bile rising in his throat.

No. Now was no time to overreact. He needed to find Rylander. He needed to find Rex.

Rex.

Unbidden, memories assaulted him – "Don't you dare throw what I think you're about to throw, mijo!"

"Come on! You're no fun…"

"Rex – Rex no! Watch where- "

"…what happened! He just – it was so quick and I couldn't stop him – "

"…completely theoretical. The prognosis is optimistic, but we just don't know enough to accurately –"

"He's – it's like he can speak to them! Do you realize the implications of what this means for our future? What we can accomplish with –"

"…no! I refuse. I won't be part of any of this!"

"You have no choice – we have the opportunity to change the world and your son is proof! If you are too blind to see it then- "

"You know what we have to do, Caesar. I want you to promise me that you'll look after Rex. Look after each other alright? We love you – "

Caesar barely noticed that he was nearly back at square one – sprawled on the floor of his lab, shards of glass butting into his hands. Memories threatened to overwhelm him, of his mother, father, Rex –

Rex. He needed to find Rex first. Rylander second. Well, Rex second and Rylander third. First he needed to find out where he was.

Pulling himself to his feet and carefully picking his way across the glass strewn floor, Caesar heaved the manual latch to the door open and –

Cold. That was very, very cold. That was Not Good. Very few regions with climate and terrain such as this (too much snow, no roads immediately visible, and at least two moose in sight) were within a manageable distance to Abyssus. And none of them would be close enough for him to get to within a day without the aid of his lab.

And Rex was most likely still at the housing facility just offsite of the main laboratory. Alone – or worse. At that distance from ground zero, who knew what side effects it could cause.

There must be some sort of imbalance or acute head injury the takeoff – landing – had caused because before he even realized it –

The sounds of machines thundered. Too loud, but they knew this would happen. It was just as they theorized – that is to say, it was a catastrophe. Some were prepared, most weren't. It didn't seem to matter either way. No one was prepared. Not really.

Pounding of adrenaline, unfamiliar to his body. The chaos, sirens blaring, but he still felt as if the machine roared louder. Even above the others, his friends and coworkers streaming through the halls and crying for safety for cover for anything, it was still louder to him. Could hear it clearly, even now from the safety behind his lab doors –

It went dark first. And quiet. Everything was plunged into blackness, but only for a second. Then light, too bright to directly stare at, too bright to look away –

It was no use. "What have we done?" Caesar clasped his head between his knees, slowly sliding to the floor against the door – glass now pricking through his trousers. Scientifically, he knew exactly what they had done. They had just changed the world – irrevocably. Caesar had said for the better, in the end. So had his parents. But better for whom? No one, if they were all honest. It was only better than the alternative. The best of a bad, a horrific, situation.

Theoretically speaking, there were bound to be heavy consequences for the world at large. He wasn't sure how Rex would be effected, his case unique as it was – but the possible mutations and statistical probabilities of their outcomes and variety for the population of the earth as a whole?

They…had completely changed the world.

A smile, unbidden, began to spread. Nearing the end, everyone who knew was somber, aware of the dire consequences of what they were doing. But at the end – their hands on the controls, the knowledge of what they were unleashing –

It had been magnificent. As a child, he had dreamt of changing the world – so had his parents. Their dream inspired his and it flourished under their enthusiasm. In the end, they had all accomplished their dreams after all.

He couldn't help it. "Mama, Papa – what did we do?"

Caesar Salazar laughed.

0000100101000110010

Three Weeks Later

"…"

"We've got a job for you, if you're interested."

Not so much an offer then, as a demand. "How long."

"Depending on your capabilities – potentially indefinite."

"Who?"

"Government body- "

That didn't sound like it would end well – or at all for that matter. "You know I don't work with the government- "

"This is different. Trust me, you'll want to get in on this."

"Name?"

"Providence."

A/N: Ok, so wow. Very...uh, very good to see you all once again. I know its been...two years since I've posted anything on this site - and then there is this monster. To everyone who is reading ad reviewing a Martyr's Morning I sincerely thank you. No, really, I appreciate all the love and encouragement that story has garnered. I just was away (like really in a different country with minimal no no access to a computer away) for two years and have never really overcome my writer's block on that story. But I will persevere! It is not dead!

This story, however, comes from one of my all time favorite (and relatively underappreciated) cartoons! Generator Rex! Because I'm not very clear with it above, I'll clarify. This story takes place IMMEDIATELY AFTER THE EVENT. There have never really been any stories covering this part and time, and I find that sad. This universe has so much potential! And it will be AU, I'll be continuing the story as if Caesar wasn't able to make it into orbit in time. Thus he merrily begins to hunt for his amnesiac and snarky little brother across the globe. From Mexico to China, Caesar really can't catch a break. Especially when Providence gets on their trail. after two years. And Rex? He's just in it for the luls.

Review! What do you think?