Crazy, but Happy

What do you call it when there’s multiple of the same person? It’s a flock of birds, a school of fish, a herd of cows, a… multiverse? Paradox? A Smartass of Leons Kennedy?

She decides a paradox is probably the best call, and claps her hands together sharply to get everyone’s attention.

“Alright. We have no idea how long this is going to be, because nobody here has a degree in theoretical quantum physics, so while you’re all here, you all need nicknames. We can’t call you all by the same name, I’m already nursing a migraine and this hasn’t even started,” Ashley announces.

The little one, the one that looks the most like her Leon, raises a hand awkwardly like she’s a teacher.

“None of you get to be Leon. To keep it fair.”

His hand goes down. Luis snickers faintly somewhere on the far side of the whiteboard that was dragged outside. He’s working on… something. A PoliSci minor doesn’t exactly qualify her to sit at the big kids table when it comes to biochemical engineering.

Ashley points at her Leon, who raises an eyebrow in return. “Infected with a normal Plaga, that was modified with an injection from Luis while we were in Spain. You’re our Leon, from here. Name suggestions?”

Her Leon shrugs. “Local?”

She writes ‘LOCAL’ on the sticky nametag and starts to pass it over, then thinks better, instead popping up onto tiptoes to slap it on his ribs.

“So we can all read it, not just those of you who have to duck on escalators,” she explains. He nods in agreement, then wanders off to whisper with his boyfriend like a giant highschooler in a boring class. Very helpful.

Ashley points to the next Leon, the little one that raised his hand. “Plaga. Spain?”

He fidgets with the hem of an obviously too small sweater before he answers. “A genetically altered mutualistic Plaga, in Raccoon City.”

There’s murmurs at that, and the little one looks awkwardly at his feet.

“How old are you?”

“Twenty-four?”

More cross-chatter arises as Ashley prints ‘ROOKIE’ onto the next sticky tag. The little guy takes it with a sheepish smile (or close enough with mandibles) and carefully applies it to his shirt.

The Leon that looks alarmingly like the red robed verdugo with hair is next. He’s sat on the grass with his tail curled around him, looking at her expectantly.

“Let me guess. Plaga, Spain, it just mutated you in a different way? Am I close?”

He nods, then makes a noise that reminds Ashley of a junebug trapped in a screen door.

“Sorry, I… I have no idea what you just said,” she tells him.

“He said you’re right,” Rookie pipes up. “He also said that he can’t really talk.”

Ashley blinks, then decides that she’s not getting paid enough to dig into how that translation worked. “Great. You got a nickname?”

She gets a shrug back, and another chittering noise. Both of them turn to Rookie, who again, looks bashful at the attention. “He said that the only nicknames he has are… from Luis, and ‘not necessarily for mixed company.’”

Ashley snorts. “Well, we have to call you something. Even if it’s pervy Spanish.”

His eyes scrunch up happily and he says something else, and Rookie nods. “Scotty?”

Ashley nods, and writes out ‘SCOTTY’ on his nametag.

“Most of you look pretty… normal,” she hazards. It’s true, they really do just look like normal human Leon, in unfamiliar clothes. “Are you all infected, or like… normal, or…?”

“Stole the power of a demonic Plaga and now I can turn into a Devil.”

“Cursed necklace turns me into a dragon when I take it off.”

“Mini Godzilla.”

There’s a long beat of silence as everyone stares at each other, and Ashley contemplates taking up recreational drug use.

“You know what, I’m—I’m not getting into all of that right now,” she says, squeezing her temples before she quickly jots down ‘DEVIL’, ‘DRAGON’, and ‘KAIJU’. “I don’t know what kind of insane dimensions you’re all from, and honestly I don’t think I want to.”

“You guys don’t have a Godzilla?” Kaiju asks, sticking his tag on without complaint.

“We do. It’s a movie. With a guy in a rubber costume stomping on a cardboard Tokyo, not in real life. No demons or dragons, either,” Ashley tells them.

“Technically not a demon,” Devil says with a shrug. “There’s a difference.”

“Okay, so what is the difference?”

He takes a beat. “Semantics, mostly, I think. I don’t actually know. Dante tried to explain it one time, but it didn’t make much sense.”

“… cool. Anyways,” she steamrolls through the conversation, not wanting to get into the idea of Real Actual Dragons at the moment. “You’re pretty quiet, face mask, what’s your deal?”

From god only knows what pocket of a tactical belt, out comes a tiny notepad and a ballpoint pen.

‘T-virus, r. City. ‘Zombie’ is fine.’

Ashley shrugs, and writes out ‘ZOMBIE’. “Kinda dark, but you said it, not me, so whatever.”

There’s another long pause as she looks the only one left sans nametag.

“Does everybody else see—“

“Yeah,” Dragon agrees quickly. “Probably a curse, or something. I don’t think there’s any virus or parasite that does… that.”

Ashley doesn’t even look down as she writes on the last tag, handing it directly to what appears to be an actual straight-up panda in a compression shirt. The hair is right, but if that’s actually a Leon and actually what he looks like, the man is fully pulling a Donald Duck right now in front of god and everybody.

“That’s… different,” Rookie says. Scotty chatters in agreement.

Ashley sighs, and buries her face in her hands. “I have to make so many pants,” she groans.

———

Ashley: so the multiverse really wants to see your ass, I guess

What do you call it when there’s multiple of the same person? It’s a flock of birds, a school of fish, a herd of cows, a… multiverse? Paradox? A Smartass of Leons Kennedy?

She decides a paradox is probably the best call, and claps her hands together sharply to get everyone’s attention.

“Alright. We have no idea how long this is going to be, because nobody here has a degree in theoretical quantum physics, so while you’re all here, you all need nicknames. We can’t call you all by the same name, I’m already nursing a migraine and this hasn’t even started,” Ashley announces.

The little one, the one that looks the most like her Leon, raises a hand awkwardly like she’s a teacher.

“None of you get to be Leon. To keep it fair.”

His hand goes down. Luis snickers faintly somewhere on the far side of the whiteboard that was dragged outside. He’s working on… something. A PoliSci minor doesn’t exactly qualify her to sit at the big kids table when it comes to biochemical engineering.

Ashley points at her Leon, who raises an eyebrow in return. “Infected with a normal Plaga, that was modified with an injection from Luis while we were in Spain. You’re our Leon, from here. Name suggestions?”

Her Leon shrugs. “Local?”

She writes ‘LOCAL’ on the sticky nametag and starts to pass it over, then thinks better, instead popping up onto tiptoes to slap it on his ribs.

“So we can all read it, not just those of you who have to duck on escalators,” she explains. He nods in agreement, then wanders off to whisper with his boyfriend like a giant highschooler in a boring class. Very helpful.

Ashley points to the next Leon, the little one that raised his hand. “Plaga. Spain?”

He fidgets with the hem of an obviously too small sweater before he answers. “A genetically altered mutualistic Plaga, in Raccoon City.”

There’s murmurs at that, and the little one looks awkwardly at his feet.

“How old are you?”

“Twenty-four?”

More cross-chatter arises as Ashley prints ‘ROOKIE’ onto the next sticky tag. The little guy takes it with a sheepish smile (or close enough with mandibles) and carefully applies it to his shirt.

The Leon that looks alarmingly like the red robed verdugo with hair is next. He’s sat on the grass with his tail curled around him, looking at her expectantly.

“Let me guess. Plaga, Spain, it just mutated you in a different way? Am I close?”

He nods, then makes a noise that reminds Ashley of a junebug trapped in a screen door.

“Sorry, I… I have no idea what you just said,” she tells him.

“He said you’re right,” Rookie pipes up. “He also said that he can’t really talk.”

Ashley blinks, then decides that she’s not getting paid enough to dig into how that translation worked. “Great. You got a nickname?”

She gets a shrug back, and another chittering noise. Both of them turn to Rookie, who again, looks bashful at the attention. “He said that the only nicknames he has are… from Luis, and ‘not necessarily for mixed company.’”

Ashley snorts. “Well, we have to call you something. Even if it’s pervy Spanish.”

His eyes scrunch up happily and he says something else, and Rookie nods. “Scotty?”

Ashley nods, and writes out ‘SCOTTY’ on his nametag.

“Most of you look pretty… normal,” she hazards. It’s true, they really do just look like normal human Leon, in unfamiliar clothes. “Are you all infected, or like… normal, or…?”

“Stole the power of a demonic Plaga and now I can turn into a Devil.”

“Cursed necklace turns me into a dragon when I take it off.”

“Mini Godzilla.”

There’s a long beat of silence as everyone stares at each other, and Ashley contemplates taking up recreational drug use.

“You know what, I’m—I’m not getting into all of that right now,” she says, squeezing her temples before she quickly jots down ‘DEVIL’, ‘DRAGON’, and ‘KAIJU’. “I don’t know what kind of insane dimensions you’re all from, and honestly I don’t think I want to.”

“You guys don’t have a Godzilla?” Kaiju asks, sticking his tag on without complaint.

“We do. It’s a movie. With a guy in a rubber costume stomping on a cardboard Tokyo, not in real life. No demons or dragons, either,” Ashley tells them.

“Technically not a demon,” Devil says with a shrug. “There’s a difference.”

“Okay, so what is the difference?”

He takes a beat. “Semantics, mostly, I think. I don’t actually know. Dante tried to explain it one time, but it didn’t make much sense.”

“… cool. Anyways,” she steamrolls through the conversation, not wanting to get into the idea of Real Actual Dragons at the moment. “You’re pretty quiet, face mask, what’s your deal?”

From god only knows what pocket of a tactical belt, out comes a tiny notepad and a ballpoint pen.

‘T-virus, r. City. ‘Zombie’ is fine.’

Ashley shrugs, and writes out ‘ZOMBIE’. “Kinda dark, but you said it, not me, so whatever.”

There’s another long pause as she looks the only one left sans nametag.

“Does everybody else see—“

“Yeah,” Dragon agrees quickly. “Probably a curse, or something. I don’t think there’s any virus or parasite that does… that.”

Ashley doesn’t even look down as she writes on the last tag, handing it directly to what appears to be an actual straight-up panda in a compression shirt. The hair is right, but if that’s actually a Leon and actually what he looks like, the man is fully pulling a Donald Duck right now in front of god and everybody.

“That’s… different,” Rookie says. Scotty chatters in agreement.

Ashley sighs, and buries her face in her hands. “I have to make so many pants,” she groans.

———

Ashley: so the multiverse really wants to see your ass, I guess