Unhygienic
Valmont plowed indoors, holding a makeshift ice pack to one swelling eye and grumbling furiously about "Goddamn demons and their goddamn portals. Goddamn Mountain Demon. Goddamn Shendu." He threw the ice pack on top of a fish crate and collapsed against it in exhaustion.
The Enforcers stumbled in after him, each looking progressively worse. Chow suffered the least, with a busted lip and some scraps on the left side of his face. Ratso had a sprained ankle and a broken pinkie finger, which he'd whined about all the damn way home. Poor Finn needed to be carried in by Hak Foo, because he was concussed, and mumbling . . . things. Bad things. Things that didn't make sense and tended to refer to a certain teammate in ways that were not appropriate for an all-male criminal organization.
Valmont glanced over at the window, his reflection bouncing back at him. Aside from the fact the a giant demon was marring his beautiful features, he was mud-spattered, bloody, and had various twigs sticking out of his long, once-luxurious, and currently filthy hair. His suit was ripped, there were pebbles in his shoes, and he needed a shave. Badly. Valmont wanted a shower.
He stared down Ratso, who was making for the bathroom door, and nearly crawled inside. The single shower stall was like a beacon of hot water heaven. Eeeee . . . he reached up to begin undressing, when suddenly he felt a familiar tingling feeling in the back of his head . . .
"What are you doing, you fool?!" Shendu roared, waving emphatically. "I'm a FIRE DEMON! I can't get *wet*!"
Valmont could not even begin to express his horror. He stared at the forbidden shower curtain, and whimpered. "But . . . but personal hygiene . . ."
"But, but," Shendu mocked him. "Stop sniveling! When you're the most powerful demon sorcerer in the world, no one *dares* whine about B.O. All the more incentive to get me out of you. Stupid, puny monkey!"
"But I must be clean! I *must*!"
"Then figure out some other way! I am NOT getting wet!"
********
Chow and Hak Foo, in a rare moment of agreement, simultaneously shouted at Ratso, "WE DON'T CARE ABOUT YOUR FUCKING FINGER!" and threw various objects at him till he went away. Pouting, the burly Enforcer wandered down the length of the warehouse, cradling his broken pinkie. He passed by the doors to their make-shift rooms, but paused when he came to the door to Valmont's office. There was a very strange noise coming from inside . . . Ratso peered around to see if anyone was watching. He knew Valmont was in the shower, so no worries about getting char-broiled by Shendu.
He turned the knob, and opened the door.
Valmont was naked in the middle of his office, struggling with the industrial-sized vacuum-cleaner they'd found in the broom closet. He froze, staring at the flabbergasted Enforcer, his blue eyes going wide as flying saucers. "YOU SAW *NOTHING*!" he shrieked, and slammed the door in Ratso's face.
The End.
AN: I apologize. Really, though, you have to wonder . . . how does he get clean?
Mmm, and to all the people who have e-mailed me, Miasmatic is on its way! It's more than half done now, and has turned out just a violent and disturbing as I originally thought,. Be prepared for over fifteen pages of torture, taunting, and general evilness.
Oo! And I'm holding a JCA fanfic contest! And there are PRIZES. Go here for more info: