“Personally I think you should wear more purple,” Harley said.

“It doesn’t really feel like my ‘thing’, you know?” Lee said, as she scrolled through more outfit options.

“That’s because your parents taught you that you should blend into the background, so you’re afraid of wearing anything but neutral colors,” Harley said.

“Good lord,” Lee said. “Really just stripping my psyche bare today, are you?”

“Got to be told eventually,” Harley said.

“Do I?”

“You can- Huh?”

Harley’s first instinct had been to assume the verbal jab was some kind of playful barb, but there was nothing playful about Lee’s tone. She had been a bit testier ever since breaking up with Adele, and Harley had crossed a previously nonexistent line.

“I’m a grown woman, Harley, I don’t think I need to be told how I feel.”

“Oh, yeah. Sorry. I didn’t mean to-”

Any attempt at a sincere apology fell flat when Harley’s phone started to ring. Loudly. That kind of alert was usually reserved for important calls from close friends. In this case, Himiko.

“Hey, Himiko, what’s up?”

“Harley, you need to get down to the lab, fast,” Himiko said. “Some undead guy is digging through your lab equipment.”

“Ugh, Undedison again,” Harley grunted. She put Himiko on speaker so Lee could get the situation update as well.

“It’s not Edison,” Himiko said. Harley froze in place as Lee’s brow furrowed in concern.

“What?”

“It’s not Edison, it’s some other guy,” Himiko said. “His face is half-rotted off and he’s got two military drones with him.”

Harley and Lee shared a look of concern, and Lee stood up immediately.

“Can you do me a favor and call up Vell?” Harley asked. “I’m going to get there ASAP.”

“Got it. See you soon.”

Without another word, Harley started down the long path to the robotics lab, with Lee hot on her heels. The halls were packed with people moving this way and that preparing for the last day of classes, but Harley weaved her way between them and threw open the doors of the lab.

Just as Himiko had said, two massive military drones, weapons and all, were towering over a single half-decomposed man. In spite of his advanced decay, the undead stranger wore a sharp suit and had an expensive leather messenger bag slung over his shoulder. There were already a few documents tucked into the open pockets of the bag, and as Harley crossed the lab, he tucked a few more into it as well.

“I don’t know who the hell you are, but you better get your rotting hands off my work,” Harley said. The military drones turned their weapons towards her, but Harley did not slow her approach.

“I have no interest in your work,” the walking corpse declared. “I’m here for our work.”

“‘Our’?”

The man turned his decomposed face towards Harley. Must of his flesh was pitted and scarred, and several chunks were completely missing, exposing bare skeleton beneath, but enough tattered scraps of flesh remained for Harley to recognize the man they’d once been.

“Pradav?”

Lee restrained herself as the jolt of shock hit her. Most of what she’d heard about Botley’s co-creator was that he was dead. A factoid that required revising, apparently. In part. The exposed skeleton made it clear he was definitely slightly more dead than some people Lee knew.

“Hello again, Harley,” Pradav said. “Where is Alpha 3O1?”

“His name is Botley,” Harley snapped. “And you are not getting anywhere near him.”

“Unfortunately for you, I do not require your permission,” Pradav said. He took another document from Harley’s desk and placed it in his satchel. “Our shared research -and the results of it- are as much my property as they are yours.”

The usual quick wit of Harley stayed buried beneath clenched fists and clenched teeth. She knew he was right, and that infuriated her. If he was alive -again- then he had just as much right to the technology behind Botley as Harley did. The intact left side of Pradav’s mouth curled into a smile, baring even more of his teeth.

“You know me, Harley. What you won’t give, I’ll take. Make it easier on everyone and give me Alpha 3O1.”

“Fuck you, and go die again,” Harley said. “You want Botley, you’re going to have to kill me.”

Pradav shrugged.

“That can be arranged.”

Pradav pulled his hands away from Harley’s desk and adjusted the satchel, and in so doing, exposed the logo on his jacket. The jagged, “k”-shaped logo of Kraid Tech. Harley resisted the urge to swear. Of course it was Kraid. Pradav took his “reclaimed” notes and left, with his drones in tow, leaving Harley to stare at her ransacked workstation and stew in rage. Lee contemplated saying something to break the tension, but didn’t get a chance to before Himiko, Kanya, and Sarah approached the workbench.

“Was that really Pradav Peyang?” Himiko said. While few people knew his face, almost every roboticist knew Pradav’s name, if only to curse it. His aggressive approach to weaponizing robots had brought to life some of people’s worst fears about machines of war, to an extent that gave the entire field a bad name.

“Most of him,” Harley grunted. “Enough to be a bastard.”

“Very little of a man is required for bastarding,” Sarah said. “But even so, by undeading standards that man was especially of poor quality. Whoever resurrected him waited a very extended time to have done it.”

“Kraid. He’s tried to get Botley’s tech before,” Harley said. While his pursuit of Botley was nowhere near as aggressive as his search for the secret’s of Vell’s rune, he still made occasional probes into the tech. “Guess he’s just going straight for the source.”

“So what he said was true, then,” Kanya added. “You helped him make Botley?”

“He helped me make Botley,” Harley insisted. “And, well, yeah, but I thought he was going to die! If I’d known he was going to get all undead I wouldn’t have-”

“There are a lot of undead in the world, Harley,” Himiko said. “You had to have known this was an option.”

“Look, when he died I hadn’t actually met any undead people yet,” Harley shouted defensively. “This was before I came here and met like eight of them. Besides, being undead wouldn’t-”

Harley’s eyes narrowed. People who came back to life returned in the same state they died in. In the case of Pradav, that state was “not good”. Something was wrong.

“No, as far as I know, there’s no cure for that kind of thing, even with resurrection,” Cane said. His neurology expertise had once again been called upon, and he eagerly answered. “We haven’t had a chance to observe the interaction, but my hunch would be that Ipslore Syndrome would only be exacerbated by resurrection, since it’s a magic-heavy ritual.”

“Well you’ll have plenty of time to make Pradav a case study after I fucking kill him,” Harley said.

“Uh-”

“Thank you for your help, Cane,” Lee said. “I’m sure she only means that a little bit.”

“I mean it a lot of bit,” Harley said. “I think. If what you’re saying is true, this might not be the real Pradav.”

“That’s a possibility, but...” Cane said. “Keep in mind, this isn’t one-hundred percent certain. Could be Kraid has some kind of workaround. It would be just like him to hoard the cure for a disease to himself and his cronies.”

“Shit, that’s a good point,” Harley said. There was no dick move too dickish for Kraid. “He would do that.”

“He would also use underhanded deception to get something he wants,” Lee said. “We’ll have to do more investigation to know for sure. Thankfully, we have an inside man with Kraid.”

“Or he has an inside man with us,” Harley mumbled.

“Harley.”

“Sorry. I’m already in a mood,” Harley said.

“Just to cut through the innuendo, you are talking about calling Joan, right?” Cane asked.

“I was hoping she might have some insight, yes,” Lee admitted.

“Alright, well, let me know if you need anything else, but I’m out,” Cane said. He strolled out and away from any mention of Joan.

“I think I’m also going to go,” Vell said. “Just for ordinary awkwardness reasons, not any moral judgment.”

“Understandable, carry on,” Harley said. She waited until Vell was long gone to turn to Lee with an expectant, and only slightly accusatory, glare. “You sure about this, Lee?”

“I’m at least ninety-five percent sure she can’t make things worse, at least,” Lee said. “What’s the harm? It’s still the first loop, after all.”

“Well, that five percent is provably fatal,” Harley said. “But you’re right. Let’s hear it.”

Lee laid her phone down on the table and tapped Joan’s contact. Harley took a second to note that it was right below her own on the most-frequent list.

“Hi, Joan.”

“Hey Lee, how’s it hanging? I’m glad you called, I was just-”

“Sorry for being a little abrupt, but this isn’t a social call,” Harley said.

“Oh, Harley, hi,” Joan said. “So this is more of a ‘we need your help with something Kraid related’ scenario then, yeah?”

“Spot on, kiddo,” Harley said. “Do you know anything about Pradav Peyang?”

“That dude who built the war drones? I don’t know. Did Kraid hire him?”

“Kraid resurrected him. He’s been dead for a few years, Joan,” Harley said. She was actually starting to get impressed at how well Pradav had kept his death out of the headlines. “You don’t know anything about that? He didn’t tease you even once?”

“Nope, for once he left me out of it,” Joan said. “Don’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing. Let me see if I can get into the company network and find any details.”

After that proclamation, Lee and Harley heard a few frantic seconds of keyboard clacking, then a minute of silence. Joan started humming a Roxy Rocket song to herself to pass the time.

“Oh, here’s something,” Joan said, snapping herself right out of the chorus. “Looks like Kraid had to file a lot of legal documents for the guy. Can’t promise there’s anything useful here, though. What’s the situation, anything specific I should be looking for?”

“The short version is that Pradav and me both built half of Botley,” Harley said. “And now he wants my half of the puzzle so he can build an army of murder-Botley’s. We’re looking for something that proves he’s not the real Pradav, since the real one had dementia when he died.”

“That’s...a lot,” Joan said. “Let me look this stuff over.”

Another long, silent search followed, and this time there was no humming. There was, however, a sharp, distinctive squeak of displeasure.

“Joan.”

“What?”

“Why did you just make that noise?”

“I- nothing. Just some unpleasant details. Nothing important.”

“Joan. We need everything we can get here,” Harley insisted. “Tell me.”

“Okay, but I want it on record, I’m just giving you information here, I neither endorse nor condone what I’m about to tell you as a course of action.”

“Oh, I can already tell this is going to go wonderful places,” Harley sighed.

“It’s definitely the one-hundred percent real Pradav Peyang,” Joan said. “As for his dementia, you’re right, it hasn’t been cured, just suppressed. And it could, hypothetically, if one were so inclined, be, uh...un-suppressed.”

The hair on the back of Harley’s neck stood on end.

“And what, give him dementia all over again?”

“Technically the same case, just flipped back on like a lightswitch,” Joan said. “And permanently, this time. There’s a specific enchantment on him you can dispel, and they can’t repeat the process without resurrecting him again. But you can’t zombify a zombie.”

“As far as last resorts go…” Lee began.

“No, absolutely not,” Harley said. “Never. Not even as a last resort.”

“I’m on team Harley here,” Joan said. “That’s way too messed up. And like, that’s me saying that. I still got some wiggle room in the morality department and that’s a bridge too far.”

“Is it not still better than letting Pradav and Kraid take whatever they want and hurt whoever they want?”

“Better than them is a real low bar to clear, Lee,” Harley said. “We have to have higher standards.”

“Alright, I’m not exactly arguing in favor it,” Lee said. “We’ll find another way.”

“I’ll keep scanning the files here and text you if I find anything,” Joan said. “You guys do whatever it is you do. Ask a sentient television for advice or something.”

“No, Telly gives terrible advice,” Lee said. Joan didn’t know if that was meant to be a joke or not. “We’ll find something, though. Thanks for your help.”

While the Einstein-Odinson school had no legal department they might consult for aid, Lee did know the number of another, equally conspicuously named school of law. Over the years her father had insisted she “acquaint” herself with the sons of various prestigious lawyers, all of whom attended the same school: the Themis-Marshall Academy of Supernatural Law.

“Yes, hello, this is XL-X8 C/P Burrows,” Lee said, choking back bile as she spoke her “real” name. “We were introduced at the Met Gala- yes I know that was three years ago. I’m a very busy woman. Yes, I know, do you want to do a favor for the daughter of the second richest man on earth or not?”

As it turned out, the answer to that question was yes, he did want to do Lee a favor. Even as the questions she asked started to get weirder and weirder. She took a seat and waited patiently as her odd legal consultant pored through legal textbooks for anything resembling a cohesive answer to her strange question.

“Alright, I think I have an answer for you,” the law student said. “Yeah, someone could conceivably argue that a formerly dead person has no copyright claim to things they invent over a living person who was also involved in the invention.”

“But then that would set a legal precedent for every other undead inventor,” Lee said.

“Not a lot of those to set a precedent for, but yeah,” the law student agreed. “That’s just the most basic explanation. There’s a lot of intricacies at work, though. I’d be happy to discuss the details over din-”

“Oh sorry, getting a call from my father on the other line, bye, we’ll have to talk later,” Lee said, before hanging up and deleting the contact info from her phone. She repeated the information the lawyer had provided to her waiting friends.

“So, we could challenge Pradav legally, but doing so might screw over Vell,” Harley said. “Kraid wins either way.”

“I’m only technically undead,” Vell said. “It’s a grey area. Maybe we can work with that.”

“Kraid could work with it too, and he’s got better lawyers than us,” Harley said.

“Eviller lawyers too. Possibly the evillest.”

“This doesn’t really seem like a talk it out scenario,” Kim said.

“Speaking of the situation,” Hawke interjected. “I don’t want to be alarmist, but I should point out we’re now at about ten PM on the first loop and there’s no sign of the apocalypse yet.”

“Oh, shit,” Harley mumbled. “Sorry I roped you all into this. You should’ve been keeping an eye out.”

“That’s not really what I’m saying,” Hawke said. “I mean, what if this whole thing with Pradav is the apocalypse?”

Harley’s face scrunched up in a perfect mix of confusion and concern.

“I probably should’ve thought of that sooner,” Harley admitted. She jumped out of her seat and bounded towards the door. “Come on!”

“He can’t possibly have figured out the technology so soon, right?” Lee asked, as she struggled to keep pace with Harley.

“Of course he’s not getting it right,” Harley said. “But half our apocalypses are people screwing things up. He only needs to get it right enough to cause problems.”

A very low bar to clear, historically speaking. Apocalypses had been caused by misplaced duct tape, too many rubber bands, and even dials set one number too high. Someone like Pradav, who made weapons for a living (or an unliving, now that he was a zombie) could do much worse with much less.

Harley punched in the code to the door to the workshop and slammed her shoulder into it, intent on making her usual bombastic entrance. Instead, she got a bruised shoulder. She punched in the code and bounced off the door one more time before the rest of her friends caught up to her.

“Fucker changed the locks,” Harley mumbled. “Little help here?”

After examining the sealed doorway, Lee pulled a water bottle from her purse and used a splash of hydrokinetic magic to freeze and burst open the locks and hinges. The heavy door fell downwards with an earth-shaking slam.

“Not fucking around today, huh?” Harley noted. “I like it.”

Harley hopped over the fallen doorway and into the workshop. Every workbench and lab space had been cannibalized, with student’s long-term projects disassembled and their carefully arranged tools in disarray. Apparently Pradav was being a regular asshole on top of an apocalyptic one. In the midst of his inconsiderate carnage, Pradav stood alone, his half-rotted hands deep into the circuitry of one of the security drones he’d brought with him. The other, still-intact drone stepped up and put itself between Pradav and Harley, guns at the ready.

“Harley, you’re just in time to pointlessly interject yourself,” Pradav said. “Do try to make it quick, I’m almost done.”

“Pradav! The fuck do you think you’re doing,” Harley said. “You can’t possibly be ready for live testing already.”

“Development requires prototypes, Harley,” Pradav chided.

“Yeah, but your prototypes aren’t supposed to have guns,” Harley said, eyeing the heavily-armed drone.

“Do you think everyone is as stupid as you are? I removed the ammunition, you idiot,” Pradav said. He soldered one final connector into place and stepped away from his drone. Power surged through it, and its eyes lit up bright red. After a few probing motions of its body and head, the drone took two steps to the left and opened up a cabinet, revealing container of heavy munitions.

“Removing the bullets doesn’t count if you store them two feet away, Pradav,” Harley snapped. It would’ve been only the start of a larger argument, but the drone reloaded -and fired- faster than anyone was expecting.

HARL33:

blegh

anybody live long enough to learn anything useful

kim?

KIM:

Why are you asking me?

HARL33:

idk did they not keep you alive because you’re also a robot

KIM:

No.

They definitely shot me too.

HARL33:

wow ok so much for solidarity

Lee:

I didn’t see much else but bullets, dear.

burdbrain:

same

Lee:

At least we have one way of stopping Pradav already.

HARL33:

NO

just chill in the lab with me

well stop him the old fashioned way

Harley got out of bed and took a deep breath to calm herself down. When that didn’t work, she punched her pillow a few times, then shoved her face in it and screamed at the top of her lungs. As she laid there, basking in the muffled echoes of her own scream, a curious and concerned Botley stumbled onto the bed and tapped her shoulder. Harley looked up and gave Botley a quick pat on the round head.

“Hey bud.”

For his sake, Harley sat up and pretended everything was fine. Botley clambered up her arm, sat on her shoulder, and bumped his round head into Harley’s cheek.

“I’m alright, Bottles,” Harley lied. Botley could sense her feelings, but wasn’t smart enough to comprehend what was going on. “And, hey, I know school’s not out until tomorrow, but I think I’m going to send you home ahead of time. Just get the old place cleaned out for me, right?”

Botley considered the offer and then shook his head “no”.

“Yeah, well, that was a statement, not a question,” Harley said. She grabbed him by the head and tossed him into the air, and the tiny robot disappeared in a puff of smoke. She checked on their mental connection and made sure he had arrived safely back home in California, and then closed the link from her end. She didn’t want Botley anywhere near Pradav.

She didn’t want herself anywhere near Pradav either, but life was never that easy.