Chapter Text
Bones lives in a D.C. apartment alone.
A shitty apartment considering his decent government position. There’s been a small media circus around that position. The government patting themselves on the back for hiring a metahuman. Proof that they don’t discriminate while they keep him utterly trapped. He’s the new face of metahuman affairs. Of course he is, he’s got a good story. A tale of success that the government can rehabilitate these freaks and make them functioning members of society.
He makes his instant coffee with too much sugar and cream and pours it into a thermos because there is no way in hell his Halloween decoration ass is walking into a coffee shop.
The department is hell. Task force X is a chore. Waller is a psychopath. But hey, it’s home. They’re the good guys.
“Bones! Just who I wanted to see. You’re here early.” The blonde woman is far too loud for 6:30 AM.
Katarina Armstrong if he remembers correctly. A top field agent transferred to the department of metahuman affairs as punishment for misbehaving in the CIA. Good to know this is where trouble makers go to die even when they aren’t criminals.
“What do you want, Agent Armstrong?”
She smiles so bright and so unbelievably fake. “You’re aware that the geek squad put me on handler duty for 13 right? Why can’t you do it? I already have one of the Task Force X teams to babysit.”
“I am aware. I would like to know why you think I would be a better handler if Waller has deemed me unfit for Task Force X command?” He just keeps walking and drinking his coffee forcing her to follow him if she wants to keep arguing.
“You’re the only major agent that doesn’t have to make sure at least one dumbass isn’t getting themselves killed! Come on, Bones, do me a solid.”
“Incorrect, I am making sure every other major agent isn’t getting themselves killed. Especially you and Flag. I have to talk to the press every time one of your teams trashes a city block or botches an assaination. Did you forget the Captain Boomerang incident?” Patience is a virtue truly, a virtue he has to train for working with people like this.
“13 is easy. He’s polite, he’s friendly, and you can probably relate to him and really get him to like and listen to you.” She pleads.
That gives him a small pause. “Why exactly would we relate to each other?”
“I- I mean you’re so young and he’s a teenager. They think twenty-somethings are cool.” There’s a little falter that says a completely different sentence underneath.
Because you’re not human, and neither is he. Because you’re both made to be weapons. Both experiments.
“I will talk to 13 and ask him who he would prefer as his handler. He isn’t some criminal we’re dangling a carrot in front of. He’s potentially a life long government approved superhero. 13 could be the next Captain Atom lets respect his opinions a little bit hm?” Bones hates to admit it but he doesn’t exactly want someone so impressionable picking up habits from trigger happy lunatics like Armstrong.
On one hand, getting along on the simple basis of being non-human is ridiculous. Even getting along as two experiments is ridiculous. But on the other hand, shouldn’t Metahumans try to stick together in a world that only wants to use them? 13 seems like a nice kid despite literally everything. Wide eyed and naive. They keep him on test runs for now. Breaking things that need broken and dangling someone in the air to scare them. Nothing serious yet.
He gets all his ducks in a row, fills out paperwork, makes sure Flag isn’t getting walked all over by his team again. Reads the world's most incoherent mission report from the Creature Commandos. Chooses yet again not to eat lunch because he hates the dead quiet that enters the break room when he enters. As the tasks of the day dwindle he knows he has to go speak to 13. Being an actual handler sounds like hell even for an easy field agent. He already has so much to keep track of managing missions as they happen? Awful. But 13 is a kid, someone sane needs to look after him. Armstrong isn’t that person and when Cadmus lends him out it is certainly not Lex goddamned Luthor.
The halls down to the red sun room he’s kept in are well lit but the dark smooth walls, floor, and ceiling seem to eat up the light. It reminds him of his childhood home in all the worst ways.
13’s room is sterile, a large cell honestly no better than most of their metahuman prisoners. Well, maybe the bedding is better. He really does look like Superman, sure kids look like their parents and all that, but it’s weird to see that face in this environment devoid of sun and obnoxious primary colors. The kid is just sitting on the bed messing with the sparse entertainment he has, a rubix cube. Bones hangs far from the observation window for a second. Watching him solve and mix it a few times over. Fast enough it can’t be just whatever mental training they’ve had him do it’s long practiced repetition. Even a few weeks of life is enough restlessness to make it second nature.
He swipes his clearance card and walks inside instead of using the microphone. “Hello 13. We’ve met briefly before, My name is Agent Bones. It’s a pleasure to properly meet you.”
“Did I do something wrong?” His eyes quickly scan him over growing increasingly nervous.
“No no you didn’t do anything wrong. I’m- wait, why would you think this is because of something you did?” Bones tries his best to lax his shoulders and be as non-threatening as possible when he sees how distressed 13 is.
“Oh well I only ever see a new agent when I’m in trouble…”
“You’re not in trouble. I’m here to ask you who you’d like as your handler. Me or Agent Armstrong. You know Agent Armstrong right?” He asks.
13 sets the cube aside and thinks for a second avoiding eye contact. Picking at his own nails as he contemplates.
“I don’t like Agent Armstrong.”
“I can’t possibly imagine why.” He fails not to let sarcasm drip from his tone. “That settles that then I’ll send a request to Director Waller. You excited about being a field agent? Getting out of your test run phase?”
“What happened to you?”
“Pardon?”
13 motions vaguely to his face. It was asked softly so he has the tact to know it’s probably touchy but not enough tact to not ask. Though it must seem like an elephant in the room to the kid. So far he’s never interacted much with a friendly metahuman if he’s interacted with many other metahumans at all.
“Nothing happened to me don’t worry, I was born like this. Still have all my flesh and blood it’s just clear.” He turns his head around in the light so it catches around the outline.
“Do you like do something or are you just clear?” 13 tilts his head.
“I kill people- Well okay that sounds bad. I’m highly poisonous if I touch something it dies.”
“Even me? Like it could kill a Kryptonian?”
“Probably. If not, you would get very very sick.”
A few beats of silence pass now that his curiosity has been satiated. It gets awkward fairly quickly.
“Right well I will send that request to transfer handling and also… ask for clearance for an item that isn’t a rubix cube. That has to get boring.”
He leaves with little room for further conversation. More work for him but the last thing he wants is Armstrong teaching a kid with lasers for eyes that orders are optional.