Life lessons are learned in Blue Bulls-Eye. One can never have the full picture of what kind of day it will turn out to be. For the first time in the store's history, a scene of abnormal behavior took shape in the hazy recesses of Craig. Going from losing his mind from a gas canister to acting out like he was in a play at Guest Service, Josh knew something was way off. Craig was the kind of guy who rarely wavered in personality, regardless of the store's condition. He was known to have a cool and collected attitude towards the guests as well as other Team Members. When the sirens came and questions were thrown around, Josh had a couple theories to juggle with, something he had to perform as a heart pounding presentation to the Manalapan Police. Forty-eight hours went by at a snail's pace; the store was still under emotional duress from what took place before.

Mid-morning shifts were usually more manageable to the single parent working two jobs. They're even more freeing if a Team Member is hard at work on the sales floor where all the action and headache take place. Where Craig ended up was a different story, but to the rest of the store, it was where not even he expected. He woke up like a hungover fish in what looked to be a closet sized office. This was Josh's office he thought, but why he was there and more importantly, tied to a chair boggled his mind to the point of lashing out again.

Blindly observing his surroundings, he determined two things: he was not behind bars for one. And an employee with a confused, yet concerned look in his eyes stared back at him. They rarely crossed similar paths. He knew the Backroom Team Member as Noah.

"Noah... thought you left. What the hell is all this?" He asked adjusting himself.

"You tell me, man." He replied standing in the doorway. "I come in this morning and Linda tells me some shit went down at Guest Service last night. Krista, Daniela… I still can't believe the tidbits I was fed."

Trying to get his mind right on last night's events, he said, "Guest Service...? First off, why the fuck am I tied to Josh's chair?"

"Never knew you to get drunk on the job. You seriously don't remember anything?"

"I-I remember gettin' something from the 200's; some TV. Next thing I knew my throat felt like I swallowed a razor... oh fuck. Noah, you have to believe me. I blacked out and I dunno know why or what happened." He said feeling his heart moving three times faster. "Where's Josh? I have to tell him I-I-I was drugged or something."

It was clockwork for Noah in particular seeing Josh walking towards the office with fatigue written on his face, and a stance like he was ready to throw a punch or two if it came to that. He walked up to him guarding the office and sternly spoke, "I'll take it from here, Noah. Thanks." Craig's "hangover" was kicking up; his head felt like it was on fire. Joshua closed the door behind him and walked around his desk in a slow, calming fashion. He sat before the gassed out employee and dished out the details the only way he knew how.

"Ah, Craig. I'm not going to lie. You're in deep shit. What do you have to say for yourself?"

"Josh, untie me man. I'm not gonna fly off the handle like I supposedly did yesterday."

"Supposedly; the entire team is too afraid to go near you, save for a few. Marianne is in the hospital-

"Marianne, he cut him off mid-sentence, what the hell did I do to her?!"

"You violently pushed her and Cayla against the Guest Service counter. The doctors say her spine is in critical condition. She might not walk after this."

"Oh, fuck, god no..."

"Daniela's in the hospital, too. You nearly crushed her windpipe and caused one of the biggest scenes this store's ever seen."

"I blacked out!" Craig shouted. "I was in the backroom getting a TV for a guest when some kind of gas hit me from the steel. Josh, c'mon man you know me. I'd never harm Krista, Marianne or anyone." He leaned forward and pleaded, "Please, I got a scholarship in the works. I can't do time."

Josh took a big sigh as he pulled out some Xeroxed papers the police gave him depicting the event. He laid them out in front of Craig for him to see. According to the notes written on the margins, the case with the gas canister stems back further; give or take forty years in the making. There was a family from South Jersey that took an interest in the meth dealing business. When too many eyes were gawking at the family's basement operations of five houses in different towns, the patriarch Lyle Henderson took to making the subway his temporary hub of establishing connections in the Staten Island area.

Papers continued saying the gas derived from hallucinogens of the near-death variety. The Henderson clan wasn't really a tight nit unit; some prefer to be in the company of other people to keep their sanity in check. Over the years, as connections grew from distributing the gas to other depressed individuals, some members of the family got greedy and started using it on themselves for more "intimate" cravings. The entire time Josh gave Craig the history lesson he kept a close look on the left side of his neck; a pulsing vein that moved in a harmonic rhythm. If what he read about the gas was correct Josh thought, one of its triggers was a bodily impact on a hard object. That way, the person using the gas could have a semblance of their old self back before things got worse.

"Did a Henderson work for our store?" S.K. asked.

"Technically... yes. I'm still trying to piece all this together, and going against my better judgment... I believe you had no control over what you did, or "he" did."

"Hold up." He said trying to comprehend what he saw. "The shit that nearly killed me possessed my body? This can't be real! Who the fuck would do this? Alright, I-I gotta get to a hospital, flush this stuff outta me."

"Not yet." Josh replied. "What happens now is I talk to the "other" guy again. I have to knock you out."

"Say what now?!" He spoke with surprise.

For a guy like Josh, knocking the idiocy out of someone was something he seldom did. When it came to violence, he demonstrated it when it was necessary. Walking around Craig and cutting the restraints off his hands and feet, he stood him up with only five seconds to trigger his other half. With his legs moving like jell-0, Josh palmed the back of his head and with quick precision he slammed it against the table as hard as he could with an agonizing scream. "Sorry brother..." Josh whispered as he witnessed him writhing in skull agony.

It couldn't have been any more than thirty seconds his office went really quiet; suddenly his walkie went off at his right hip. His heart jumped and turned off the device as he sat back at his desk waiting. A dark skinned hand slammed the desk; those orange, ghoulish eyes stared back at Josh as he kept his composure. "S.K." lifted the chair and with some struggle to compose himself, he took a minute to gather his thoughts on how to make some kind of diversion to slip away. Josh crossed his fingers and sternly spoke, "You know who I am?"

Rubbing his head and cussing a few choice words to himself, he retorted, "Gimme a sec... you hit pretty hard for a 50 year old playboy."

"It works for Robert Downey Jr."

"I was the go-to guy for any form of assistance in this store. I supervised Guest Service, did inventory and back stocking in the Backroom, made everyone laugh while taking the piss by Market Team Members. Where did everything go wrong?"

"I'm staring at the problem right now. You're Mickey Henderson-

"That's not my name!" He snapped back at him, feeling too lightheaded to throw a punch. "This body is fighting me."

"It's one of seven aliases you used to get four types of jobs prior to the one you got here. Your real name's not important."

"Well, that puts my throbbing head at ease." He replied sarcastically. "Y'know, I was told once that I was very good at making up stories. Wanna know how I got this job?"

"By pathologically lying to everyone whoever crossed your path. You made bold claims that you've had experience with Market before. Then when it came time to prove such things on paper, you flat out failed. And at every turn, you keep making up lies to prove you're not full of shit."

"What can I say? I like to perform for idiots who don't appreciate my presence. Why am I not in those restraints? I could strangle you at any time or do things not even an insane person would do."

"Like what?" Josh asked.

"Ha, ha, ha, I may be losing my grip on this body but I ain't stupid. You should've let me finished what I started with Marianne."

"Oh, yes, one of the few girls who tell you like it is. As I recall, it was both her and Alyse who told you time and again Krista wasn't interested in you."

"Minors peak at a certain age." He replied in a sinister tone. "I wanted her to be the one to free me from my family's grip. Those baby blues, milky skin, and you can't deny her smile. My personal crown jewel; all I need is a whip and some huge boulder to chase me. "

Matt walked into the Team Service Center when he overheard chatter coming from Josh. Once he heard "Craig's" voice speaking like some tweaked out Joker, he stormed in with his taser tightly gripped, ready to send another 100,000 volts in his vertebrate. "I've heard enough outta this prick!" He scolded him. "Craig" smiled and acted unimpressed by the man's predictable entrance. For some odd reason from Josh's point of view, he didn't seem to have any tell on whether he was going to strike Matt the second either of their backs turned. Any number of things can happen in a confined space.

Tensions were raised within Josh as he looked at Matt to see what he was going to do next. He then promised, "I'm going to discover the reason behind the gas you planted in the back room."

"I assure you I've much more than a fucking canister. My motivation goes beyond anything this store throws at me." He said as he stood up slowly with both hands up.

"Just say the word Josh." Matt insisted.

"All of Blue will see soon enough; 6-6-16. Remember that date, gentlemen. I'll see myself out."

"Like hell you will-" Matt said before he banged his own head on the desk, knocking him out cold. Matt's eyes widened to the sudden occurrence. Nothing is truly scary unless it's happening in front of you. With his body lying out on the floor Josh got up and said, "Help me lift him up."

"When that asshole took over his body," He spoke before realizing, "can't believe I said that with a straight face."

"Don't sweat it." Josh said. "You say everything with a straight face."

"But what I don't get is the things he was saying. It doesn't add up. The man I know is cool with the ladies here. You expect me to believe-"

"I don't know what to believe." He replied setting him back on the chair. "But I have a feeling we haven't seen the last of him."

"The last of whom…" Matt asked as Josh glanced back with obvious intent. "You're telling me he was possessed by… well, fuck me sideways. Just when you think you've seen everything."

"We're gonna sort this all out. I need you to take him to the hospital to get the gas out of his system. I'll let the other leads know what's going on."

"You got it." He said lifting Craig up. "Between us, I'm glad Christina left. Those two never got along."

The entire time speaking with the "other guy" he kept his composure, and didn't show any sign of surrender. Seeing him leaving his office dragged by his feet however, that image knocked the wind out of him. It didn't make his situation any better when he saw specs of blood on the edge of his desk. He took a minute to think before calling the other managers into the orientation room for an emergency huddle. He grabbed the police files with his hands shaking, and walked as his heart pounded out of his chest.

Waiting for the others to arrive, he took the time to review over the files so he could get the complete picture of what the store was going to be dealing with. His mind still couldn't process the fact Mickey was tied to a 40 year drug operation that injects their very essence in people they loathe. Background checks sure weren't what they used to be he felt. According to the files, the gas itself was dubbed "Soul Leaping".

The inception of the operation derived from Lyle Henderson's first-born daughter, Kenzie. He had reason to suspect her boyfriend was a drug competitor of the family, and that Kenzie was trading secrets with him. Skipping to the present day, Josh noticed the last of the Hendersons retired the gas business in 1988. Five, older brothers and three sisters were still alive to this day; their whereabouts remained unknown. Mickey was the only one to have to come into making the gas again. It was a mystery as to what he's really been up to since he got fired.

Ten minutes later, some of the managers started walking in with worried minds and open eyes. It became public knowledge at this point that Mickey was making a comeback, and not to get his old job back. One of the Leaders on Duty, Jim, was a reasonable sort; ten years working for the same company he had seen squabbles that ended with the police stepping in, but when it came to gas crazed employees his suspension of disbelief only went so far.

"Hey, Jim, how're you holdin' up?" Josh asked shaking his hand.

"I still can't wrap my mind around this; Craig of all people, doing what he did to Marianne and Scott?! It's insane."

Another manager stormed in with heavy concerns over the future of the store. Shaken up, Mary said, "This store's reputation is at risk."

"Hey Mary…" Jim said.

"What does corporate say?" Josh asked laying out the files on the desk.

"They have reason to believe we're the ones who poisoned one of our own. Marianne's still in the hospital. Doctors are still deciding whether she's going to walk or not."

"Jesus Christ..." Jim uttered.

"This could hurt us. We've had five call-outs today. We're short staffed as it is, and they're thinking of shutting us down to quarantine the entire store. Anyone know who closed last night?"

"Well, Chad left at 5:30 and Casey called out at the last minute so... nobody." Josh acknowledged. "Let's wait until Lisa and Matthew get here. We need to discuss the future."

Like any retail store, it goes through the annual triage of corporate prodding and re-modelling walking aisles. The upside is that it gives experienced employees a new look into what changes the store would have to abide by to generate higher profit. In very rare cases, an outbreak could be just as deadly, if not more so, than the occasional bomb threat in the bathroom stall. These are two main things corporate take very seriously. A team member could be facing jail time and lord knows what else Mary thought.

Unlike Jim, she was paranoid about everything around her. One mid-day shift, she had eyes glued to a shady male character staring at lingerie for two hours straight. Not many of her fellow Team Members remember the day she caught the guy without paying, running out the exit door. It was the kind of capture football players could appreciate. Hearing about Craig caught her by surprise as well; she always had a good working relationship with him. Matthew and Lisa entered three minutes after the others in a heavily concerned state.

"Have a seat guys." Josh told them.

"Josh, The store is pretty shaken up." Matthew said. "People have been talking about going to other stores."

Jim then chimed in, "They're not going to other stores, Matt. One Team Member won't compromise business. Craig just has some issues to work out."

"It was more than some the way I heard it." Mary replied.

"Okay, addressing the petite elephant in the room, what happened last night and what does this have to do with Craig?" Lisa asked confusingly.

"That's the reason I brought you all here." Josh said, passing out the files. "The police have been very skittish about this four decade old drug business the Hendersons have been running out of South Jersey. What happened to Craig was the result of orange gas in the backroom. Guess who is the source?"

Looking at a file with mugshots, one called out to Lisa in particular. A few weeks ago, talking to Mickey Henderson was like pulling teeth; especially when she crossed his path in a foul mood in the 100's section in the backroom. However, his mugshot was not among the six family members dating back forty years. Each member carried a near resemblance to one another, like procreation was kept "in" the family for purity's sake. The image of Lyle Henderson disgusted her; smile of a sadist and eyes of a hunter. She kept to the current situation at hand and asked, "This is freaking bizarre. You're telling me this connects to that gas canister that turned S.K. cuckoo for Reese's Puffs?"

"Mickey is just an alias, one of seven. His real name is the one who got fired." Josh replied.

"Well, I say good riddance." Mary brought up with pride in her voice. "The people in the Produce Department deserve a break from him. Always disrespectful and lashing out at the guests; wouldn't be surprised if he pops up at some point... god, I hope not."

"I know some guys in the Manalapan unit who can keep an eye on the store in case any shit hits the fan." Jim said. "Now granted, the next few weeks are gonna hinder our way of business. But we got to stay optimistic."

"I agree." Josh concurred. "We ride this out for now until the police find Mickey and shuts down this 40 year operation for good."

Matthew was feeling hot in the head all of a sudden. If for one second he was to believe some gas caused everything that happened, it would compromise his view on what was real and what wasn't. He was the kind of Team Leader who was a realist and wasn't very big on conspiracy theories unless he was watching the X-Files. He put one of the files down shaking his head and said, "Wait, wait hold on a second. Are you guys seriously considering this shit we're looking at is true? Look at the keywords on these papers: "Soul Leaping Gas", "Purified Henderson Gene Pool", "126 unsolved deaths of people connected to the family". How does it all relate to Craig again?"

"Matt, even I don't have all the pieces placed together." Josh reminded him. "That's why I called you guys here to discuss what's happening to the store. All I ask is you spread the word to the other Team Members, inform them on the changes that are going to take place for the time being."

"One last thing…" Jim brought up. "Noah told to me earlier that Craig was in your office before he was taken to the hospital. Does he recall anything from last night?"

Josh paused for a moment as a split second image showed orange ghoulish eyes before telling Jim, "One way or another, justice will be served in this store. You can bet on that."

There are only two outcomes to a typical work day: stressful or surviving the day, because that's all it has ever been. This time however, the next few days the Blue store was going to be put under a large microscope with a prying corporate eye looking down on them, but they're not the only ones watching. Two days before, Daniela, Scott and Marianne were transported to a clinic in Raritan where their loved ones kept their spirits up.

Two Manalapan units kept guard on Marianne's room in particular all throughout the morning until one of the five call-outs came by with flowers. Suffice it to say, entering her room was like lock picking a highly expensive padlock. One tumbler picked incorrectly would compromise the whole spine chilling challenge. Luckily, that wasn't the case for Sales Floor member Nick; being one of Marianne's best friends and on the visitation list. All it took was a kind word and a brief frisking to get inside, but as soon as he did the room hit him like a brick to the face.

She looked worse for wear he thought. He sure hated to challenge Craig in an arm wrestling match if it came to that. Marianne had bruises on her face as well as having a back brace of some sort to keep her upright. Nick took the flowers and put them in a plain, glass vase on the right side of her bed and sat by to keep her company.

"Hey, Mary... everyone's reeling over what happened at Guest Service. Krista's doing fine, talked to her this morning. She's actually coming later today after she's done with an interview at TCNJ. Gotta tell you, months of grinding through schoolwork with this place and little sleep; "proud" doesn't even come close to what I'm feeling. Mickey Henderson… that slick bastard is at it again. If you can hear anything I'm sayin', whether you have to use a wheelchair or not... you'll be alright."

The sound of the bathroom door opening behind Nick gave him a quick startle when he heard a familiar voice calling out through the unnatural vapors. Two years didn't feel like a lifetime, and for Nick especially he hoped he didn't have to stoop to Mickey's level just to drive him away. If having two older brothers taught him anything, is that a good ole fashioned brawl against someone you despise is sometimes necessary to get a point across. Even with all the lashing out he did against his Produce Managers during his time there, Mickey still retained his ghetto bravado with a hint of perversion.

He zippered up his ripped jeans and said, "He-heeeey, wassup Nicky? Bet'cha didn't expect me to turn up again."

Nick's knuckles became whiter than the driven snow, all while replying with one word, "You..."

"I'd be careful if I were you, Nicky." He said cracking his knuckles and stretching his back. "We wouldn't want to upset the patient."

11