Daybreak #0: Computing Science and Technologies

===Sionis Industries==

 

Sionis looked up from his desk, fiddling with his pens distractedly.

Standing in front of a large whiteboard, a red marker in hand, was a gold clad figure; a bright magenta cape draped across their shoulder; Manga Khan, a supposed alien warlord, currently in the middle of a business pitch.

 

"So! Let me show you what I can bring to the table!" Khan declared, as he reached behind his cloak, and placed a 'World's Best Boss' mug onto the desk.

 

"Do you just, uh, carry that around with you?" Sionis asked, his eyes narrowing.

 

"You never know when you might need that little push," Khan admitted. "Sometimes cat posters just aren't enough. I know it always brightens up my day!" he added wholesomely.

 

Sionis grunted. "Uh huh."

 

"And you know, they mean it too. Why, when have you ever heard of a mug lying?"

 

"I'll be honest, I didn't realise mugs even had opinions," Sionis said tiredly.

 

"And that's why you need me!" Khan exclaimed jovially, jumping back into his chair. "On my home planet, I was an excellent regional manager!"

 

"Oh yeah? You ever sell any narcotics there?" Sionis inquired.

 

"No, but I've sold dozens of mugs!" he replied cheerily.

 

Sionis looked back at the cup in Khan's grip. "That one of them?"

 

"You know, it might just be."

 

Sionis nodded weakly, as he crushed a small tablet into his glass of water, and gulped it down. The door knocked, and he looked up, incredibly relieved to see Bookworm standing in the doorframe.

Sionis tilted his head back to Khan and smiled. "Will you excuse me?"

 

~

 

"And we have to invite him too?" Sionis asked, his red eyes peering through his office window to look at their client, currently trying fruitlessly to free his cape hem from underneath his chair leg. As he panicked, his robotic assistant, L-Ron, insisted he do his breathing exercises.

 

"Well... It was this, or let him annihilate the human race. His mug industry seems to do quite well, actually," Li said with a slight smirk.

 

"Fair enough, then," Sionis remarked, rolling his eyes.

 

"Well, I don't trust him," Ferris complained. "With a name like that... Tch, who knows what he could get up to. Did we even check his clothes for a concealed bomb or four?" he asked suspiciously.

 

Sionis gritted his teeth, and pulled Ferris in close. "Not in front of the cameras, Henry, we've talked about this, and not in front of Li," he reprimanded him.

 

"Spoilsport," Ferris whistled, as he begrudgingly walked off down the hall.

 

"Lord almighty..." Sionis sighed under his breath. "Tell me you have some good news, Li," he exhaled.

 

Li smiled. "We found them," he said proudly, handing Sionis his tablet. "I spoke to that Chancer fellow in the GCPD- we've arranged to let him go, but, just in case, I've arranged to have an old friend shadow him, per your request. He said the Misfits were en-route to a school in Colorado. It took a few hours, discounting the most prestigious and expensive ones of course, and narrowed it down to here- Greendale Community College."

 

Sionis scrolled through the tablet unimpressed. "Hn. Rings a bell... Which one's Chancer again?"

 

"The, uh, dumb one," Li elaborated.

 

Sionis glanced up from the tablet, a blank expression on his face. "That, does not narrow it down."

 

========================

 

10:07 Day One.

 

"So, I take it it's your oversized death machine that's in my parking space, is it?" Kuttler muttered, as he shut down his laptop.

 

"Yeah..." Chuck trailed off, as his peered at a family photo placed beside Kuttler's monitor. "We really didn't want to get towed..."

 

Kuttler snorted, as he rose from his seat, and began to spread a set of test papers across the room. "The answer's no," he said plainly. "The conditions of my parole were quite clear. No more doomsday devices under any circumstances. They've only just started letting me use the WiFi again, which, might I just say, as a computing teacher was awfully inconvenient."

 

"Not even, like, a small doomsday device?" Mayo asked curiously.

 

Kuttler rolled his eyes. "Surprisingly, no," he said sarcastically.

 

"Gee. I dunno," Blake said, as he knocked over a stack of pens whilst he searched the desk. As they clattered to the ground, Otis reached down and pocketed a large handful. "I just figured you'd have an EMP or something."

 

"Ah, but of course. Let's throw an EMP into a transdimensional feedback loop. Ingenious!" Kuttler exclaimed irritably. "Honestly; The resulting fallout would be catastrophic. It could rip a hole in the skin of reality," he chastised them.

 

"Ok, not that, then," Chuck said hesitantly.

 

"Unless you want a polka dot themed apocalypse, then no," Kuttler said indignantly, as he walked into his office, and clicked the door shut.

 

As the Misfits stood there awkwardly, Blake chuckled to himself. "Heh. Apolkalypse."

 

~

 

"So, that was a total bust," Otis concluded, loudly slamming the classroom's door behind them. "What the hell are we meant to do now?"

 

"I guess we ought to at least pretend to study. Where'd you say the library was?" Mayo asked.

 

Chuck lowered a flimsy piece of card, and sighed. "Urgh, map's outdated by a couple decades. We'll never find it."

 

"Oh, I've got this," Blake said smugly, as he sauntered towards a female student. "Yo! Donde esta la bibliotheca?"

 

The student snorted, and walked off in the opposite direction. Blake waved her off, and swaggered back to the group, weakly muttering something that sounded like "Guess she didn't know..."

 

"Why'd you have to do that?" Chuck asked, his cheeks glowing red with embarrassment.

 

"She looked like she spoke Spanish," Blake reasoned.

 

"She also looked like she spoke English," Mayo added.

 

"So? Maybe I just wanted to flex, shut up."

 

"Ah, yes, 1st Year Spanish, that always makes them weak at the knees," Flannegan remarked. "I'm going on ahead. Come along Mayo," he whistled.

 

"I'm not a dog," Mayo said despondently, as he kicked his feet along the ground.

 

"Then I guess you won't want that bratwurst I was saving," Flannegan murmured back.

 

"I didn't say that."

 

~

 

As they walked down the hallway, Blake and Chuck came to a stop by a glass case. As he examined it, Chuck's eye was drawn to a old photograph. "Wait, Blake," he said, beckoning him close. "That girl look familiar to you?"

 

Blake yawned, as he strutted over. "As I live and breathe... Miranda Gaige."

 

Chuck nodded. "Drury ever mention that to you? I had no idea Miranda even went to college. She seemed so much more, uh, single minded."

 

"You mean stabby," Blake agreed.

 

"No, I- Yeah..." Chuck muttered reluctantly.

 

"Oh, and not just Miranda Gaige," a loud voice called out, as a slender pair of hands gripped both Blake and Chuck's shoulders. Standing behind them, was a bespectacled, deceptively slim-looking bald man in a green shirt and light grey tie. The Dean. "But also famed character actor, Luis Guizman!" he announced, resting a lingering hand across Chuck's chest.

 

"That explains so much...." Chuck muttered to himself, glancing down at the Dean's hand. Beside him, Blake nodded in agreement.

 

"I know!" he said "I was wondering why there was a Luis Guizman statue outside."

 

"He's a friend of the school. Did you know he starred in our commercial?"

 

"Oh, no way!" Blake said enthusiastically. "I thought that was a body double. Or maybe a George Lopez at best."

 

"So, Mr, uh, Dean," Chuck nodded, prying his hand away. "We were just admiring your trophy cabinet."

 

"Oh, that's not the trophy cabinet," the Dean said. "That is," he pointed to a bare wooden structure, a single trophy held within.

 

'That makes more sense,' Chuck noted.

 

"Anyway! I hear you boys applied for Professor Kuttler's class? He's just informed me that he's had to let you go. Personal reasons apparently."

 

"A note would've sufficed, sir," Chuck said. "You really didn't need to seek us out."

 

"Honest," Blake agreed.

 

"Oh, no bother at all," the Dean smiled. "Here at Greendale, we're all about that little bit of human connection. Just look at our mascot, The Human Being" he said, pointing to a football poster, where a slender, white clad psychotic figure was displayed front and center.

 

'That's human?' Blake shuddered.

 

"You, uh, get many applicants?" Chuck asked.

 

"Not so many these days. I can't imagine why!" The Dean shook his head, as he strutted down the hall.

 

...

 

"He called us boys, Chuck," Blake said softly.

 

"I know," he replied, as he placed a supportive hand on his friend's back.

 

~

 

"Here," Chuck said, as he led Blake towards the library, and approached Study Room F. As he opened the door, he paused. "Otis-?" he called out.

 

"Brown," Flannegan nodded. He was sat behind a wooden table, positioned among a group of seven, rather perturbed looking students. Mayo, was sat on the sofa, several feet away from the main party.

As Chuck approached the group, he noticed that the man and woman on either side of Flannegan had moved their chairs ever so slightly away from him.

 

"Saved you a seat," Flannegan grunted, gesturing to another wooden table on the far side of the room. "Ah, don't worry," he elaborated, as he placed his hand around the man beside him. "You haven't missed much. Master Mundi here was just telling us all about the Droid Attack on the Wookiees."

 

The man, Jeff, put a hand against his forehead self consciously. "My forehead's not that big, right?" he whispered to the blonde woman on his right, Britta. She smiled back unconvincingly. On her right, a half polish, half Arabic man, shook his head disappointedly.

 

"Abed?" Annie, the brunette girl beside Flannegan, asked worriedly.

 

"Uh, kid, you alright?" Chuck asked, glancing back at Flannegan.

 

"I don't like this," he explained. "Crossovers, are more often than not an arbitrary way to extend a show's runtime past it's prime, or dig something else up out of nostalgia, without the understanding of what made the original great."

 

'Right.' Chuck opened his mouth as if to say something, then stopped himself, and walked over to his seat.

Done