(¯ˆ·.¸(¯ˆ·.¸(¯ˆ·.¸(¯ˆ·.¸ —Cookieville Orphanarium, that afternoon…— ¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)

"Dreams broken and spirits ripped apart... Good days, we'd call them back then."

Her shoulders to shiver as familiar whiffs welcomed her back; furthest from home to travel as she squelched down the gymnasium and toward her class portraits. Temptations stirring to rip photos off and frames apart especially to find hers, or rather, its remnants courtesy of mould. Deep breaths to allay any destruction, and instead console herself on how it all began, and what could've been.

A wealth of reasons, had always hoped, to be crowned Queen of Cootietown; forces deep below to ensure her as the sole inheritor of simple luxuries—clean clothes and working water chief among them. Every other orphan to 'conduct' any ceremonies, all on her behalf, all without any actual approval.

"How was I to know I'd get all that help? Never showed themselves once, never spoke a damn word…"

Faint scents of spices and broth to get her glancing down; boarded floors bringing out a smile for the memories within. Attractive traps at first, over beliefs that she'd assert her worth, fast track those friendships, by grabbing a select invite—course, trust the BSO organisers to keep leading her on, promising a place for performing "just a few favours."

Clean the eating grounds spotless for one; easy enough on paper before realising, to confront that very task among others, they'd be doing their absolute best to royally screw her.

Benefits of discovery, however, for each day she'd slip and struggle to her feet; catalyst of techniques over time to grant landslide victories, mindsets to compound her growth. Simpers and smirks toward sore losers, even to remain 'unqualified', and no sympathy for fates then nor since her reunion, decades down the line.

"They fight off shakes, sell their organs, sleep in cardboard… Can only pity them for peaking here, of all places."

A few quick slides for a laugh before she'd run to, reach for her proudest triumph—daresay her favourite portrait—of all. A single moment framed to hang among the Hall of Famers, of the day she'd earn that black Captain's jacket, returning salutes to both the Mayor and county reps present.

The reminiscing of graduation ceremonies to surge her confidence; brushing under the rotted signs of Building D, needed all she could and then some.

"Sanctuary, sanctuary… Only place to ever feel safe, and after, to remain safe from me."

Laments had to wrinkle that untouched top bunk, grip her mahogany study desk both well-worn and beaten; every splinter a pounded fist, every crumb a taste of love and support, every paper ball or lead stump to dismiss pleadings of playing outside.

"Swore I'd never let that little girl crumble… No matter how hard her world got."

Her time of reflection to finish upon a wipe of dust; attached mirror to now reveal the woman digging fists into her hips, a glowing smile to give away. This woman she'd fight her entire life to evolve into, one ready to fly and deliver no matter the mission, at a moment's notice.

But just as she got ready to return, the glass would betray a sudden motion, one to silence her breaths and bring on an admitted panic. Drug fiend out to scavenge, deadbeat out to squat, or a maniac trying to hide; heart in her throat while she'd sidle and take vantage against her arched wooden doorframe.

Wiped her brow after peering right out; trying to regain their breath, a rather chunky man to bury his nose and bitch about the odour. Good odds of proving no threat, to take a casual lean and cross her arms.

"Little well-fed to lurk 'round here, aren't ya?"

Frozen spines she could expect, knowing the majority often did whenever she struck up the words. Not so much the bulging eyes nor curdling screams however, and especially not that sudden hauling of ass stampeding down the hallway.

"Hey, I was only kidding… Come on, wait up!"

Her sprint to grab a shoulder and halt the stranger's rush, only for his hand to spring back and smack her in the eye. Lucky shot if ever she copped one, and plenty to say about it while fumbling back to splash and cool off that sting.

A stalk of the hallway to stop upon hearing abnormal lung activity, arguments from within about where he'd left his 'sledge.' Rubbed her hands to realise that he clicked the lock to his own cage, as she felt about fraying grains to mark her target.

"Can't believe anyone could be THAT scared," she'd ready her stance. "Time he face his fears then… Heeeeee-yah!"

12-gauge kick from a size-12 boot, to send oak shrapnel in all directions, virtually enable an entire vision of that bedroom. Window to remain as lethal sharp as ever, yet for finding no evidence of blood, bed lumps or other movements, she instead chose to knock first. Prudent hesitation to prove wise, when great thumping slaps would startle her.

"Hey buddy, the hell's your problem? Didn't mean to scare ya, but you're gonna gimme a heart attack?"

"Think I'll let YOU sell me that bullshit? You'll be grateful for one to get in, now GET AWAY from me!"

"Oh, maybe it's escaped your notice, but you're the one whacking my eye when I wanted to talk. So before your life actually depends on it, how 'bout you stop fixing for a fight, huh?"

"In case you've forgotten, you freak… IT DID!"

Harsh tone and words, though more a tiring of waiting, to spark a rush of strikes; door left as little more than woodchips once she was done. A few breaths while she'd kick away the mess, her gaze returning to that outsider gripping his sledge tight, eyes of menace before common sense got the better of him.

"Ohhh, what's the point?" he'd toss it to her feet. "Better the glass than YOUR arse to condemn me."

In his turn and take-off, it dawned on her that he wasn't bluffing—sudden instinct to pelt forward, take a giant leap, and tackle him to the deck despite good reasons to take his split decision.

"Oh for God's sake, you'd rather die than talk to me? What did I do to deserve that, then?"

"Figure it out Miss Sherlock, or punch my ticket already. Daresay you might get off that way."

Was ready to throttle lessons into him about talking to ladies, until her eye began to crease, look over the guy. Familiar details to open it slow, soon signal her brain to back up quick.

"No way, it can't be… Five fingers, all your fat, those giant clown feet—YOU'RE the deadbeat I dealt with last night?"

Got confirmation once he'd accuse her of beating him dead, before he began thrashing about, cursing her name. Arguably among the most bitter, cornered, desperate animals she ever encountered, yet by no means without reason, as she escaped initial blows and timed crucial misses to pin him down.

"I get the picture kid, settle down! Look, I'm sorry for your welcoming party, I really am, but—"

"Settle down, when you'd gimme your whole fuckin' gallery, leave me behind to rot? Even when I had just that scream for help left? Go kiss the chasm I call my arse-crack, and shove your apology right up your own!"

"Hey, you better wise up and mind your mouth. Believe me or don't, I mean what I say."

"How 'bout instead you shut yours up and finish me? Be more at home where I deserve, than here with you."

"Be in Hell whichever way, and I'm a survivor AND an escapee. So could you maybe just stay a while, give this a chance?"

Would murmur for no sudden moves as she let the outsider sit up; he'd proceed to turn away, and bury his face into his knees. Neither flinches nor jerks to happen however, as she believed; crossed fingers that he had taken her offer to heart.

"Listen love, please do me a solid, and just leave me the hell alone."

"Love? Let's nip such ideas, shall we? And however can I help if I've no idea how?"

"Never the way I'd intend that for you, and you'd do better by pissing off. After you capped off the worst night of my life, despite the hundreds before it, you really think you can?"

"Sure kid, talk as much as you like on having it rough… Not like mine's a life of luxury either, of late."

"Gee, I must've been blind or beaten silly last night… Could've sworn before I got my lumps that you left a Gods-damned APARTMENT! I'm no Oxford scholar, lady, but I'm not a complete idiot either."

"Could've fooled me, for raising your hands," she'd snap back. "Still, did respect the guts to try, so there's that."

"Oh what a bunch of bullshit, we BOTH know you never gave me a choice… Before you, I'd never known a lass to possess such power, speed and technique—think I wanted any part after your introduction?"

"Can see now why you wouldn't. Spent half my life to hone all that, yet our fight was the first I've ever been so beside myself, lost complete control. Look, you deserved your wake-up call, but you didn't deserve THAT."

"You think? Listen, to crucify me before and invade me now, you can quit trying this hero act of yours. You're never gonna convince me."

"Kid, I'm the only one who's offering," she'd glare. "And I'd think it obvious who needs who between us both, so I'd be careful whose lines you cross… Am I clear?"

"Yeah, whatever… Long lost whatever faith or hope I had; doubt you'll be the difference."

For seeing those eyes raise, wary yet baleful, she'd grow unsure of giving any hand in help. Worst of her to find in him, this side living exclusively on diets of retribution, of vindictive grudges.

"Can at least try… What's your name, sport?"

"Thomas Mayfield; mostly last, hardly first. Skill set? A blank sheet. Booze buddies? Only the flies. The other deets? An alky, blow-in, complete disgrace, exemplary failure, grown headcase, insufferable joke, and latest made nobody of—"

"Okay, I get it, jeez! Mine's Turanga Leela; former Fate Assignment Officer, Captain of Planet Express, full-time ass-kicker and adventurer… Least, that's to share what I'm comfortable with."

"I guess I could get behind a combo like that; dash of Amelia, sprinkle of Calhoun, a pinch of Hit-Girl—"

"Uhhh, sure. For both our sakes, you can call me Leela."

"Can do. So, any openings out there, places to stay, people to stomach?"

"Well, since last year, we've opened two positions on our crew; Chief Sustenance Operator, or Cargo Transport Officer. My terms, no-one else's. Play your cards right, you might have a home and colleagues to count on. Of course, I should warn that it's no—"

Quick musings of dusty wallets and same day hire-n-fires, as he'd pump her hand; moments after to speak of calling for a cab, with their next stop to most likely be Headquarters.

(¯ˆ·.¸(¯ˆ·.¸ (¯ˆ·.¸(¯ˆ·.¸(¯ˆ·.¸(¯ˆ·.¸ —…— ¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)

Knew they'd be on tenterhooks for a time, but she'd catch herself eyeing the kid more often than the cabbie's magazine, its cover to celebrate Bigfoot's birthday. Obvious mumbles to observe aside, would also note the tell-tale nerves of tapping hands, mouth of a fish for how it opened and closed.

"Got something to say, Mayfield?"

A burst of stammers to gush forth at once, followed by frustrated head-slaps; she to restrain his hands and pat them, at least in attempts to ease him. Once she ensured of it, those gradual thoughts began to trickle out.

"Listen sheila, I'm really sorry I'd be such a wrecking ball. Never meant to—"

"Did I really mess your memory up so much? You know my name."

"Term from home, or was rather. Just saying, it sure speaks volumes of you to—"

"Not really. For the way I whooped you, really gotta make things right."

"And I the same, for being taken in… Mark me now, you WILL be paid back."

"Just get your feet under you, and I'll call any 'debts' paid. Besides, you're nowhere near the worst being I've known."

"Fair deal, thank you. On a quick note, think we'll together find the answers we're after?"

"Hoping without hard work's to be foolish out here… That said, can't tell you how long I've hoped so."

Giggles to stifle over that tourist's mistake; laying elbows across the sill, he'd only jackhammer his jaw with a palm. Matter of fact, was real glad an idea sprang to mind, to save her from cracking up outright.

"Cabbie, quick stop at AO&T please, and let the meter run."

Between rising above and rushing about the plaza, she to create herself a package, place it wrapped tight in the middle seat. A plan of re-entry but mostly revenge; salty pungent scents to get her thinking of angles, oblivious of any teary sniffs or nose pinching.

Minutes later, a sprint for HQ to action her plan, only to spot Mayfield bending backward, jaw seemingly unhinged from his chin. Hadn't even moved since they exited the cab; no inkling of what he was seeing, and doubtless no time to start caring either.

"Hey, you trying to taste pigeon crap over there? Come on, move it!"

Distant alleyway to duck into, a smirk flashed upon rapping her knuckles upon a nearby dumpster. Trapping bait held tight in her arms, she would address the wannabe crewman who'd just arrive beside her, clutching his knees and puffing for air.

"Seeing you've got a sensitive nose, be warned… Nothing'll prepare you for this, if you can't handle Cookieville."

Lid to crack open as he'd cock an eyebrow, as she'd watch those spongy pink noodles sniff about through the gap. The shell to then rise whole, release a whirlwind that'd absolutely level the kid, leave him leaning against bricks and fighting to keep everything down.

"Dear Gods! Bastard's robbed all of bloody Rookwood, he has! How on EARTH are you still standing?"

"A story I'll tell, to earn my trust."

"That stench, that mouth-watering stench…" the creature would call out. "Who's so kind to—oh no, it's you!"

Fastest crouch out of sight they'd ever see; again slapping the metal to coax him out, wasn't going to waver even an inch.

"Since when did you refuse a meal, crabcake? Not that I care, if you don't want my peace offering, I'll carve 'em up with chips."

Creature to peek out, wave Mayfield an offside welcome that wasn't returned, before those hungry eyes began to home in again.

"Fine olive branch, but I don't think—"

"Go ahead, take it in… Be no trouble at all."

Entire face to crease as drool coated her hands, as that familiar Mohican fin rose out of his head. Didn't even know that behind her, Mayfield was fast losing any battle to save his stomach.

"Tuna, a classic inside rolls or out… Night-crawlers, delicious snacks when juicy and, wait a moment…" Deep, long snorts, to erect him all the way. "Is that bottlenose dolphin, and it's oozing?"

Sudden joyful squeal as he'd scatter bottles, cardboard and detritus to meet her face-to-face; strange scuttle and clapping claws again, as she met those big round eyes.

"Such wonderful gifts, Miss Leela. Cannot thank—"

"Ah ah ah," she'd wag a finger. "Peace offerings go both ways, bub; gimme an alternate entry to HQ, and you'll get this gift. Do my best to tolerate you too."

"Forget that, my friend. When you're Johnny Zoidberg, you've ALWAYS got a way in."

Watching him scuttle off, trail of drool slicking behind, she would help Mayfield up to chase that crab down; his growing nausea of no concern until they'd stop at the back end, closest to the Hudson. Great roars and stabs of pincers for walls to whine, groan and burst apart; Mayfield to turn ghost-white as she took his hand and led him in, almost side-by-side.

That crustacean sucker to soon caress his newly-won buffet, time enough for Hermes—papers in hands as always—to beeline right for him. Rewards to scatter and prey to freeze stiff upon the yells and glares, always a scene she made sure to witness.

"Use 'de lobby yuh imbecile, dat's comin' out of your pay!"

Seeing that crab make anchovies of that tuna and dolphin feast, couldn't help but have a distinct cackle about it, even while the kid subtly poked his tongue out. A battle to get herself back to normal, as her wannabe crew cleared his throat.

"Sorry, maybe my memory's all messed up, but how is that being a hero again?"

"A moment doesn't make the full story, smartass. Besides, I wouldn't talk when you can hardly save yourself." Towards her ship she'd then stare, her co-pilot to hover beside it: "Amy, did you check the engines and fins like I ordered you to?"

Heard the kid burble and stammer, almost as if he hadn't looked to the skies since he arrived.

"Stone the flamin' crows, lady… THAT'S what you order your crew on?"

"That, and turn the keys to. What, did I look the type to clean floors for a living?"

"And I'm s'posed to know that HOW, exactly? I've known ya two days, most of which I'd rather block out."

"Oh Lord, just get over it would you? You act as if I'd kill you for—GET DOWN!"

Huge chair barrelling through to almost take off their heads, would've done had she forced the dodge just a second late. Hearts to pound heavy as it span about and loomed over; seated inside, the only person to outrank her officially.

"Presenting Hubert J. Farnsworth, the head honcho of Planet Express," she'd raise a hand in highlight. "Poor unfortunate souls that we are."

"Who are you to bother my nap, and what are you doing here?"

"Ugghh, I'm the lady who carries this—"

"I wasn't talking to you, woman!"

"Are you sure now? Anyway, this here's Mayfield. Guy's after some work, how 'bout a fresh start on Monday?"

"What are you fuffing on about?"

"All those TV ads we've taken out, since…" She to fight with her words but could only trail off, getting a quizzical 'Hmm?' beside her for trying.

"Oh yes, yes, of course. Ah those poor sons-of—but that's not important. What's he got that the others didn't, then?"

"Warm, complete body to kick things off… Really, since when did you care about standards? Maybe once I get him up to speed, he'll—"

"YOU teach him the ropes?" Armrest slaps, mad chortles at once. "I'm hiring crewmen here, not housekeepers."

"I'm sure your 'graduates' might've preferred something practical, BEFORE I cleared their bodies off my ship," she'd snarl. "Guess the rumours were true, you can't teach for crap 'round here."

"Oh poodle-spit. You are my Captain, yes, but nobody knows Bessie better than I do."

"Excuse me, Farnsworth was it?"

"That's Professor to you, fresh meat!"

"Call yourself whatever you like. Anyway, why shouldn't I get her guidance over yours when, supposing things go wrong, it's her arse more than yours in that moment?"

Sly grin to hear her side taken, though she'd worry for seeing those dark clouds as he kept hovering. Who knew what fit of pique he'd have, not that she'd time to imagine as sporadic grunts saw him tip forward, inch by inch.

"Professor!"

"I'm awake, I'm not asleep, I—who are you two again?"

"I'm your Captain, and Mayfield's the new guy. Just cutting to the chase, of course."

Cool of jets to bring Professor to eye level, then offer a hand to shake: "Can't say I've seen him, but ah hell, welcome aboard Mayberry! Just so we're clear, you'll be put under Probation first."

"Okay, great, sounds just—"

"Gonna have to prove yourself, before we put you on our actual payroll."

A cringing in her spine for the private-meant yet public-had confession; had a habit of those, and judging by that squeeze, this one to not please the kid any.

"Excuse me? Hell do you mean by that?"

Cricks of bone to stretch his hand: "We pay you what you're worth, Satan forbid you can figure out the rest. Think we stay in business out of generosity?"

"I'd be stupid to expect that from you, but I won't be stiffed from the start either. What else you clenchin' for, old bloke?"

"That's none of your business, shut up. Plenty of other suck—er, eager heroes to take your place, so I'll have no problem calling the cops to shoot you out the city cannons. If deep space doesn't kill you, the Sun will."

Kid's furrowing face and clenched fists to step in between, raise hands for calm, and would only step aside once he took a few breaths.

"Fine Professor, I'll give your game a go, but under one critical condition."

"And that would be what, Maybanks? Need I remind you that you're in no position to negotiate?"

"If I can't earn a dime, why should I pay it? You want me working for ya, then you'll let me live under this roof for nothing. Deal?"

"You believe I'm made of money, do you?" came a long growl. "How 'bout you be grateful for my offer?"

"Grateful, without a damn thing to my name? No food or water, no gas or power, no good shelter, and no dollars either? How can you expect this huddled mess to turn your doors golden, when his condition's little better than dirt?"

"Oh foo, fine, if it'll stop your whining!" he'd thud the armrests. "Now quit disturbing my nap, the both of you."

Would watch the jets burn again and away out of sight; was somewhat sympathetic to the faces he was pulling, as she beckoned her latest crew forward.

"Tells you the whoolle story, doesn't it?"

"All the books I could open, trust my luck it'd be this one… How do you even endure that arsehole?"

"Imagination's a wonderful thing, and I'm saying no more," she'd shush her lips, smiling. "Don't be too down though, work hard and follow my orders, and you'll be absolutely fine. Hell, go so far as to call you lucky."

"Your lucky's my scared to death but, tomayto tomahto. I'm just glad you take no crap instead of talk it."

"Can't afford to, when scars for life can come in a matter of seconds. So long as that's clear, you'll get my blessing, hundred percent."

"Uhh, I believe so. Does that include the kind that can cheat death, stop putting the fear of Gods into me?"

Yet again he had to remind her; two blinks later to sweep the legs, mount him, and lean in close.

"Word of advice, kid… How 'bout you DON'T lecture me on solving my problems, lest I fix your dental one?"

"Fine, fine, just can the craziness and get off!" she felt him squirm, before letting him stand. "So what do you expect of me now?"

"For you to be moved in, rested and ready by noon at that green desk above, no excuses. Call it an abrupt change of plans, but we've an entire headquarters to explore this weekend."

Those words to leave him with as she returned to the ship; couldn't hold his hand forever, and if he couldn't figure out such a simple order, he'd float just like the rest of them…