Doom Patrol

As Rita's ship slipped into the time stream,

she was riddled with fear.

But there was no turning back.

She wanted to be a hero.

As she dove into the very root of consciousness...

I'm Rita Farr.

...her tree of life blossomed before her.

But as she watched,

Rita was struck by how little of her life she'd actually chosen.

When was the last time she followed her bliss?

Rita wept,

and every tear that fell

represented all the shame and regrets,

all the judgy looks and great harms that Rita had endured.

And then, the most remarkable thing happened.

With each tear shed, Rita's memory was purged.

Whatever this woman's dreams and sorrows had been,

by the time she landed in 1917, she was a blank slate.

Okay, you.

I won't hesitate to give you the what-now.

But if you're just passing through, let me be the first to say

welcome to Iowa.

My name is Betty Ann Bucklestone.

Uh... Mmm.

Might I use your restroom?

Uh, can't say about rest.

You might get a few splinters.

It's over yonder.

- Okay. - What's your name, hon?

Uh...

Good question.

There I was picking mushrooms,

when this strange earthly motor carriage

dug right up through my daffodils.

Lady, you do not want to mess with the Bureau of Normalcy.

Where is the pilot?

I can assure you, I don't want to mess with anyone,

but it does appear, I am the ship's aviatrix.

Lady, what do you take us for?

Let's try this again. I'm Agent Wilson, and you are?

Come on, lady, we don't have all day.

I don't know. I am... I am...

Laura De Mille.

Oh, you're a wisecracker now, are ya?

Please. I'm not trying to wisecrack anything. I...

Okay, I've seen enough.

Come on.

Blasted Bureau bottomfeeders.

Quickly, Mallah, capture every detail of the vessel

before they haul it away.

Great idea, sir.

I'm The Brain. All I have are great ideas.

Wonder of wonders.

Something tells me, if I reverse engineer the sketch,

I can design my own ship.

And then all my plans for world domination

come into sharp focus.

Our. - Excuse me?

Our plans for world domination.

Sure.

Stop.

Macaroni. Caroni. Caroni.

I finally arrived.

I don't know why.

The Stapler flies at dawn.

Yams.

There, there.

It's okay.

- It's okay. - Come.

Don't worry, Kay. You just tell me what shoes you want. I'll get them.

You think it'll work? It'll work.

What about green high tops, or maybe some pink runners?

- You got the money? - Yeah.

Okay. Go straight up, buy your shoes,

and come right back, okay?

- What about the others? - I'll take care of them.

Hey, you got this. Now go.

Hey, man, you busy?

Dude, who is that?

I thought I told you not to click pop-ups.

That's Ginger. She keeps me company while I play.

And if I just can get Private Nuttles

to the Hazelnut Highway, I'll be frickin' awesome.

- What's up? I've been thinking...

Am I the hammer or the nail?

My brother, I hear you.

I mean, am I an approximate man?

Why am I even Cyborg?

What? What? Because you're a fucking god.

You can basically bang anybody you want.

Like the entire cast of The Love Boat or Knots Landing.

Why in God's name and nut cheese would you want to change that?

Maybe because it's not all about who you can bang?

Said no superhero ever.

Oh, nuts! - What? No!

I had cashew reserve!

That really wasn't the kind of talk I was hoping for.

Oh, sorry. Stupid life choices really aren't my specialty.

Oh, here's a thought.

Maybe talk to somebody who gives a shit.

Sit down. And don't touch anything.

Enter.

Right, right.

My, what a lovely laboratory.

A smoldering headless mannequin...

bubbling potions and mice.

Hello. Very sciencey.

The rather imposing gentleman who was just leaving seemed rather upset.

Might I ask what it is you do here exactly?

Ah. Who am I?

Good question. Relevant question, and yet, I know not.

I seem to have flown in like a feather off the cosmos.

That actually sounded quite sciencey.

Right. Next question. What am I?

Ditto.

Why am I? Mmm, another thought-provoking inquiry,

and yet, I think we might both agree that my journey here

has left me quite discombobulated.

The only thing I have is this.

Therefore, it would seem that I am from the Sisterhood of Dada,

and my name is Laura De Mille.

Ah! Look at that. We have the same name.

Or not.

Now, if you're Laura De Mille,

then, who is the Sisterhood of Dada?

Have you got a light?

Goodness. You did that with such vigor and flair.

Not flame.

Okay, not telekinesis.

Ha!

Did that... Did that hurt?

No! In fact, it felt just like... I don't even know,

but, in summary, felt good, felt really good.

Right.

Not a weapon.

Nuh-uh, Comrade Hog, no squirrel meat today.

No! Get away from me.

What the fuck?

You scared the shit out of me.

Sisterhood of Dada. Speak.

Fine.

Bunch of super self-absorbed kookledoodle meta-humans

who definitely do not like you.

When I said the name Laura De Mille,

I got a foot up my ass and not in a good way.

So, if I were you,

I'd stay away from the Sisterhood of Wackydoo.

And?

And they were working on

some creepy, maybe cool art thingy.

Too early to tell.

Okay, draw it.

If it gets you away from me sooner I will do it.

- What's this? - Hello? Robot fingers.

You are aware that your little friend Rita stole my time machine.

And that sucks for me why?

Mail plops into the gizmos, sort and file it in the doodads.

If they don't have a doodad, put it in the thingamabob.

If they don't have a thingamabob,

we put it back up the whatzit.

Got it?

Ah, goody!

Out of the gizmo.

Into the doodad.

And we're off!

Don't think I've ever seen anyone so delighted by mail delivery.

Might as well make the most out of this postal pit stop.

Reckon you're just visiting, then?

Mmm-hmm. Your guess is as good as mine,

but until I figure out why I'm here,

I'll happily file the whatzits,

and take my marching orders

from that officious Laura De Mille in recruiting,

whom, by the way, strikes me as a tad bit strange.

That officious Laura De Mille, she saved us.

I stand corrected, Holly.

I suppose I'm just feeling

out of sorts not knowing my name or where I come from.

Let's give you a name, then.

How about we call you...

Bendy?

Hmm.

You've got a real knack, Bendy.

- And you've got a fan club. - What?

Oh, hello, it's me.

Hi. Oh, I remember seeing you.

Come with me. Now.

Freaks.

Guess who was up there

just eating her sandwich at the agents' table?

Bendy!

Meet the gang.

Malcolm, Shelly, Sachiko and Lloyd.

I did, but Holly said it...

Wait. Did you just speak Japanese and did I just understand you?

- Piffle paffle, Bendy. - Sorry, what?

Don't question. Just go with it.

You have to eat here?

I'm utterly confounded.

You all should do something about it.