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From the Casino of Fate, those damned souls to be dealt the worst shoes conceivable; baffled her a good deal to get such brilliant illuminations, in spite of such darkness.
"Was always s'posed to hate 'em for being so hideous… Where was that kinda guidance in my life?"
With a crack of knuckles and a genuine smile, her hustle would begin with apologies to her Replicator, an order for a 'three thirds' coffee, and good chuckles to be called an impostor while she sipped. Wasn't like she could argue, given the crude oil that'd come before.
"I deserve the consequences of what's done, but I won't make 'em worse. That's my Captain's vow."
Her eventual cheers and raised cup to earn her stink-eyes, mostly bemused, all 'round the table; co-pilot however to grimace and glance anywhere else, speak not a single word between loading, count-down, or launch. Loud page flicks to think that she was still fuming, and for good reason; sighed and stood up to gaze over her catalogue, after giving her Auto-Pilot the reins.
"Hey Amy, was hopin' to discuss a few attitude problems… You got a moment?"
"Pfft, you're one to talk. You expect me to believe that I should just forgive what you said? There are times when I'm not the brightest of our bunch, but don't insult me."
"After breaking HQ's and our sacred codes, who the hell would I be to expect you to?"
Catalogue lowered, but got only a wary gaze: "You're right. You are absolutely right. There's no way I can take my words back, or maybe what's been done, but I'm truly, DEEPLY sorry that I'd ever take it that far. Guess all I'm after is a way I can earn, daresay deserve your trust again."
"Where we are going, I wouldn't mind a miracle. And I doubt this Obsessie Bessie you've been could do anything; much rather get Zapp on command for the leadership you've shown of late."
"Got a real nerve comparing me to that… So against a guy who'd put us in constant danger, just so he could play hero, what would you have done?"
"Ma'am, I warned the rookie about any unwise use, as you requested. Might never have seemed it, but he does listen. If only you did, once in a while."
Would hum over as to how, and why she should've, as they touched down in Angra-7, among the lazy swirls of tumbleweed and sand dust. Trolleying toward iron gates, was so far suspicious of its peaceful façade—rather lame dose of reality as she and Amy would interrupt two guards hocking spit, taking aim above the other's heads.
"Well well, finally! Somethin' to do instead-a sit here."
Shivers to betray as the guards circled about, with a rather certain swagger; legit tough guys in sleeveless jumpsuits and leather skins, raspy cackles to share after smoke from cigarette drags. Bulging with menace, their muscles adorned with a complete dragon tattoo.
"My, aren't you ladies a sight for sore eyes? Was gettin' so sick of this asshole's head."
"Eeeasy with the eyeballing guys. Hate to disappoint ya, but we're both engaged. Just dropping this—"
"Like hell we are, I'd rather—"
"Shut up!"
"Hey, plenty to go 'round and give a good time, so s'pose that's yer loss… Where are these going and who are they for?"
"Just straight through, some request for a"—clipboard to check—"Deb-you Zack-O, I believe?"
"Day-boo Zaa-co—friends call 'em Fatty, though I suggest yer don't. Anyhow, we've better places to be, so just go in if this gate lets yer."
Relief voiced to watch them saunter for a saloon offside, allow a chance to examine that spiritual face up close. Worries to grow upon Amy's curious strokes, her every caress of spike-clubbed moustaches, especially when it began resembling a roar while doing so.
"Well, I'm out of ideas. Looks like that Day-boo whoever's going without."
Sudden quiver of clubs, to sound off: "AMY, GET OUTTA THERE!"
Seemed this 'spirit' loathed any kind of attention at all from strangers; had the instinct to duck down came a moment too late, those bell-like clangs would've made guaranteed mincemeat of Amy's head.
"Oh for God's sake, don't scare me like that! You alright?"
Despite any wobbly knees, a shoulder pat would give her quite the reassurance before she'd direct a couple of dead-centre blasts at that lock. Monster to be left miserable and red-faced, be forced to submit and allow entry; path upon path to cause confusion and hasty debates, until sloppy signs for 'Fatty' came to attention.
Makeshift camp for following all eventual directions, yet no wide loads to actually find, or worry for. Grave concerns however for those dozen fellows in blue tunics and white tees; least half of those prime athletes to writhe like worms, victims she'd perceive of some lingering, destructive poison.
Moment they were ushered inside, a thief to snatch her giant crates, toss them each with uncanny ease, and break them into complete splinters.
"Hey, I'm gonna need a signature on that!"
Request to go ignored over rushes to distribute those odd bottles and overgrown fruits—intentions made of kicking ass until she'd be tapped to take a glance. That robber, now leader, to claim that his deceptive redirection was complete; couldn't argue the results to find all standing healthy, offering tributes of thanks among the mess left over.
Inspecting this miracle medicine and its mysterious scrawl, she would focus upon a Chihuahua puppy of bright colours, varying by the bottle.
"Awww, I so want one!" she'd coo. "Dang adorable fuzzy-wuzzy widdle—"
Haunted eyes and gasps from all: "Say, whose side are you on lady? Fatty's idea of fun to set that little mongrel loose… May you NEVER find 'em in your travels."
Full bows and gratitude, regardless, to blush for as they started for the ship, having collected generous payments and even the odd scroll or two. Heavens knew what purpose they'd serve, but was sure of preferring the stories of old, especially when bandanna-clad thugs returned with lecherous grins.
"Say babes, we've been thinkin'… Was awful rude that we never properly introduced ourselves, yer fancy a dance and good times right now?"
Knuckle and neck cracks heard to know otherwise: "Uhhh, no thank-you, we gotta get going. Space to fly, stuff to deliver, dotted lines to sign."
"Two ways of doin' this, since Debu caught ya and called for heads… With no fuss, or without mercy."
"How in the hell—never mind. Whoever fancies a fight, I'm open to the idea."
"Respect the ladies who like it rough, not often we get 'em… Don't say we didn't give a chance though."
Never saw the blinding kick of sand nor any cyclonic uppercut, 'till she'd be lifted off her feet, left folded in a heap. Mocking laughter heard to stumble back up, rather fuming; cheap shot that'd prove quite the pounding, daresay go beyond her best.
Vision cleared to note that Amy had been coldcocked as well; jaw in pieces and lights out, to justify rushing to her aid. Very little she could bestow, before a Hail Mary haymaker connected from nowhere; spinning lift-off with a crash-and-roll landing. That assailant to adjust himself, as she very gingerly got to her feet.
"Nervous? We're not even trying—you actually thought a girl could match our skill?"
"Boys, boys, boys… Maybe true that you're above my league, but I've beaten those odds my entire life."
"Oh yeah, sweet cheeks? Go on, show us then."
Laughter to really savour as she grabbed her guns—both hands AND foot—and devastated the duo with a hail of lasers. With them on their knees, their burning skin in her nostrils, her fingers itched to finish the job… Instead, a threat against funny business as she'd hoist Amy upon herself, make tracks for the ship.
"When I get my hands on that wrinkled son-of-a-bitch, I'm gonna—"
A stiff hit in the spine to drop with a yell; never did notice any bandits stalking right behind, 'till she began spitting mouthfuls of desert dirt. Only then to realise that any begging had been a big ruse; once more to get up with a murderous glint in her eye.
"Since you idiots dunno when to quit, guess I'm gonna send ya on permanent vacation."
Satisfied smirk to fry their faces off, but didn't expect that another enemy would rise alongside, moments after doing so. As the skies turned an instant black, she felt screams trap in her throat—glowing with violet, violent hellfire, a bestial creature of a taller, much mightier build to stretch out.
Barely a growl of greeting before talons the size of sickles immediately swung at her; only instinct to duck, shoot again, and sprint out mumbling prayers. Course times to once embarrass Earth's finest soldiers—DOOP's words, not hers—yet that spectre stayed right behind, often just missing its chances to clutch her one-handed.
"God help me, I can't run forever; think, Leela, think…"
Typical blasts to just piss it off over paralyse it; fears of becoming a demon's dinner 'till an accidental click, a particular charging sound, would spark a vivid insight. Her models to possess the OSOK mode for such emergencies—real extreme given the damage it already did, but knew she hadn't a choice once its grip of hellfire raged about her skull, once boots left the ground and bodies got slammed into earth.
Two final triggers pulled as the thing roared in triumph, sending it clear across the fields and straight out of her sight. As daylight would return to great relief, she'd take a little time to breathe and nurse wounds before she'd grab Amy, secure their seats, and get out seeking medical supplies or help.
"New Jersey's a total holiday to that forsaken planet… Heavens help those souls indeed."
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Over bonds repaired and toasts to better times, a Friday of dancing and cocktails to really appreciate. Worried whispers while returning home, however, to cut what little jubilance she had short.
"You're saying this guy's situated in THAT corner of our nation? Have I got that straight?"
"You think I believed my friends too at first? Who else has the five fingers she's after, dear?"
Her mind no longer on Studio 122133, her city's tribute to ancient nightlife written by math nerds, nor on any soothing baths or sleep-ins, she'd get to hustling toward her apartment, then her bedside grate.
"Even WE'RE above that garbage, for goodness sakes… What, were our sewers too good for him?"
"Look, we're only after a location, not a mind-reading. Deerstalker can only do so much."
"Hey hey, been hearing you two. Got any deets to deal my way?"
"Hello sweetie, ummm… If I may shoot straight for a moment, I really think we've got the wrong—"
"What my sweet lady meant"—came the interjection—"was that she kept wanting to double-check, make absolute sure we got our guy. Word about the sewers was that he'd vanish or go off the grid; even Dwayne's guitar string was easier to find."
Ears to perk and closer to sidle—not the best news to hear, but had no better clue right now.
"First lead, lousy I'd admit, was spotting guys in blue and red, always carrying a large vessel of some kind. Morning to night, their taking of similar paths to have me axe my network, any of theirs in turn, to confirm a general postcode and probe about."
"If they're who I think they are, for having been there myself…" Could only bite knuckles, as that sewer dweller continued.
"Old acquaintance I'd call 'Ellie' to lend his ears; that fella could tell ya who tooted from a half-mile away, and even he'd sit around for days trying to tune in. Only heard regular bouts of this horrid ejecting, and reported as such."
Not just drinks now, to quiver inside: "Son of a bitch… Any idea as to what?"
"Was a free shower, the way he saw it, and then Beagle happened by in the area. Accordin' to him, kid was havin' the kinda stuff nobody should've without a silly straw, among a regular supply of Disco Squares and Nuklear Kohr's. Spearmint liquid too, which'd strike 'em both as odd."
"Going into an abyss of his own… Wait, wait just a darned moment!"
Up she stood, 'round her room to pace, and not just to exclaim eureka.
"I remember wearing blue and red, was while I'd be delivering pizzas… As for those fries and frozen custard, they'd be treats I'd buy for HQ, when DOOP ousted our General years ago. You mean to tell me—"
"Ohhh, I knew it!" the lady of muck called out. "Over and over, didn't I say she wouldn't believe us?"
"I believe you, I believe you! Just that, it's mainly more about where he'd hide that—oh dear God." Sudden face-palm of epiphany, to knock a horse over: "How could I have been so STUPID?"
"What do you mean? What's on your mind, sweetikins?"
"Born and bred here, we learn to avoid those forbidden borders—should've known that kid had no such issue. Way back when I first became Captain, I'd assist my original crew with house hunting; among those we inspected, an apartment right across the river from work. One we would've snatched up, had the salesman kept his mouth shut."
"And that means?"
"I've not the slightest idea, but for his sake, that better be where he is. Doubt he's gonna make it through the night."
"Well, you know where we are should anything arise. Love you honey!"
Feared she cooked her Officer's fuse now, and enough to imagine the bombshells he kept secret, the truth and vengeance she'd no doubt uncover. One almighty mess yet to be wrought, even for best case scenarios.
"Not on my watch, kid. I'll set any wrongs right to hear you out, but so help me, if there aren't any…"
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Was closing on midnight when she'd depart her North to South near Weehawken, that hour and change spent wondering how her Officer afforded the rent. Knew that anything on the waterfront didn't go for cheap, even in a Garden State made mostly of weeds.
Was certain of making any escapes an impossibility, as part of her discipline… More worrying though was what'd vanish him here to begin with—enacting her cruellest irony, in breaking promises of survival and second lives, to no doubt be involved.
"Grapple gun's a little short to reach the balcony… Least the alternative will gimme time to think."
Knew where he lived to discover a cell phone in complete pieces; no doubt dropped over the railing as she hurried up those hundreds of steps, grunts of efforts given before she approached the door. Perhaps how he'd christen his new place, this thousand square-foot of 'paradise' as it were.
Anything but after unanswered knocks, a sneaky knife-picking, and an instant burning of her insides—reveal of mysteries beyond to realise that, with a literally sickening vengeance, Mayfield's relapsed side had returned.
"Auugghh! Great Cheech's ghost, I'd sooner go rowing through the sewers again."
A desperate dig inside her guts to rush through and bust open the balcony doors; fresh air to offer little help, however, against what'd been drunk and disposed of. Glorified gasoline, to hazard an actual guess.
"Mayfield might be guilty after all… Unless he's hoping to purge more than his stomach."
Callouts by name to earn an inhuman bellowing, prompt a sprint of panic as thumps grew fast in volume and tempo. Even for slapping one certain door, the ensuite as best she'd remember, said outburst would threaten to erupt again.
"God's sake kid, I'm not gonna hurt ya! You know who this is, but I just wanna—"
"Only when you leave, and ONLY then, will I believe you. As for anything else Captain… SHUT THE FUCK UP!"
Sudden scurry back, heart going two hundred a minute to confront this psychotic madman playing Officer, his every vein flooded with a virulent venom.
"You believe I'll let myself be left open a second time, you fat-eyed liar?"
"I, I, I—"
"WELL?!"
A thump and slide against the door, head going into her hands: "Figured that you'd seek to screw me by any means necessary, especially after our first night. Long as you got your payback, wouldn't matter whether it was minor or major."
"And that's STILL what payback meant to you? Alright, Miss Sherlock, please enlighten me… Ever since that first night, what would I have gained in screwing you that'd be worth facing your temper?"
"Couldn't help but be certain of mutinies, especially to get Farnsworth on your side. Add in how you'd go over my head, all your broken promises and lies, and of course I kept thinking that you sought after my Captaincy… Not like I hadn't lost enough already."
"Okay vinegar tits, now here's the REAL facts. I'll give ya a generous half-point regarding Farnsey; did get his ear and get him on board, but he'll NEVER be a friend… And when you could never be of any help, whether or not I'd cop your bullshit grilling, what the hell did you expect?"
"Watch your words, buddy. So how does that explain why you still chased after my cream?"
"No love, better watch yours… Now, under threat of arrest, who do you think sent me hmm?"
"Course he would've. So if his involvement is true, sounds like an excuse to really kick his ass. Care to confess to it?"
"What's your excuse, Captain, to suffer so dull an imagination? Now I can't deny that my ancestors were criminals, but I wasn't RAISED by any… You dare believe I'd crucify THEIR heritage, THEIR memory, for your pathetic travesty of a life?!"
"Alright, enough is enough. Can get why you've gone berserk, but you better wise up before I—"
"Didn't want my input then, and Gods help you to give yours now… So, since you know 'em so well, what did you THINK your miracles were capable of? Would they help a man fly your ship? Command its crew? Grab a bigger share that'd equate to—wait a minute—nothing?"
Looked about for any possible answer, but none ever came as his rant continued.
"Or maybe, for as long as needed—emphasis mine—would they help him survive to become the perfect crewman?"
"Perfect? Kid, I'd have loved that out of you… Just not the way you went about it."
"Ohhh, like the way YOU went about things? From day one, you'd do your damnedest to break me, a boy barely taped up as it was. Now were there times I took it too far? Absolutely, I can't apologise enough for how careless I'd grow, for the constant brushes with death…"
Saw his damaged career chip being slid beneath the gap, prompting serious fears of losing her own.
"So go find the crew you deserve, and don't cry for me."
"No, no no no, don't you go quitting on me! Listen, for all of our problems, even you deserve better than this forsaken dump… And I know we can fix things between us."
"There's no fixing the ugly words you'd spew, the constant reminders of how worthless I was. There's no fixing how you'd steal from and screw me, with absolute impunity. And finally, there's no fixing how you'd beat me like a bodhran, twice, for reasons you could never justify."
"Thomas, please, if there's anything—"
"DON'T say my name as if you're clan or friend, especially to want something you never gave. Now, it's 'bout time I taught a lesson for once… Never gamble a life on games two can play."
Clatters of ceramic to suggest a hidden secret; situation otherwise going critical to prompt doorknob jiggles, shoulder barges, and knife picks to no avail. Clicks of locks inside to get eerie reminders, before he'd finally emerge with a choking, death-like decay, and a glare like the Arctic.
"My kindness, you know, to run and hide… But since you're here, how 'bout you take your best shot?"
"Oh Lord, is that the time? Sorry kid, I better get going. I, um, think my apartment's on fire."
"I can assure you it isn't, but it will be."
Her hand forcibly grabbed then, grip of a Diamondium trap barely processed when she heard a sound like sugar glass; bones beginning to crisp. Shrieks, writhing and tears to notice pure invigoration consume him, twist and corrupt what little good was left.
"I gave you that chance to leave, bitch… Now, time you began praying that you did."
"I dearly hope that Hell reserves a special place for you," she'd grit out. "Since I can no longer send ya there."
Mad cackles as he grabbed her throat, pinned her up the wall: "And that'll be different HOW? Did you think there wasn't a day I'd NOT ask why I got outta bed? NOT see two-faced monsters in the mirror? NOT think of buying stools and strong ropes?"
Chucked about with abandon, wasn't sure of surviving the impacts until she got dangled over the balcony: "Don't you get it? I wanted to believe you were the hero that, when I needed to be, I wasn't. The light of hope I thought to be lost since. Grieves my heart so sore, to be offered your hand yet proven so wrong…"
"Won't be your worst wound, when I'm through with you."
Familiar growl to look all around before an abrupt blackness swooped over; wound up on solid ground and coughing hard, as a being of shadow would saunter about.
"You!" she heard Mayfield growl. "I've had a bone to pick for a while, now it's time I got some answers."
"And you think I care, maggot? I warned you that damaged goods don't get sympathies forever."
"Who said I wanted 'em, arsehole? Now tell me, why actually care to hunt down and kill me?"
"I'll say," she'd splutter out. "Could axe the same save for the last part."
"Plenty of options between locations, your stench and filth, or her voice. And between menacing her life, or becoming a big pain in our ass, how 'bout you tell me?"
"Oh piss off, she's no saint herself. And whaddaya mean by 'our ass?"
"That's where you're wrong. And I'm not one to question my Master, when he's been adamant in saying so."
The ensuing battle between titans to be over in moments—was sure of seeing familiar moves as the bloody mess of Mayfield was slung over shoulders, and a declaration would be heard.
"I'll be back for you, cyclops, but 'till then… World's End awaits the wicked."
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Would've been a total idiot to expect a smooth negotiation, but this WASN'T the Saturday start she hoped for.
Worse yet, in declaring a need for liquid courage and raiding whatever was left, would fast realise that her EO had nowhere near the bottles to even begin helping. Could well remember the fish-tank sized whiskeys of Doohan-6, the same to guzzle without pause over HQ's errant 'egg' delivery.
"Just my stupid luck… No idea where he's been taken, no way to be numbed, and no time to get my wrist thingy."
Awful blends left behind to instead grab gulps of fresh winds, in advance of braving that cadaverous corner—first test of many, for sure. Every inch inside to recoil as she ripped cupboards open and rummaged about for solutions; more than once would rush out for breathers, for getting her own urges to contribute.
Several to have in succession, before the clatter of ceramic to remember; redoubled efforts given to palming the wall tiles before her fingers got caught behind the toilet. Right then to discover a page out of Oxford, along with an attached note laid over a stash of secrets.
PAYBACK [mass noun]: "Profit from an investment equal to the initial outlay."
"Like I kept saying, the less-known meaning… Too bad I had to die before you believed me."
A hint doubtful to uncover the lot, but had a good lather anyway; almost no time before shattered hands and aching bodies returned to health, with a vigour and power to grab entire fistfuls of her face. Mayfield's ultimate game now unveiled, and the reality of her choices to experience all at once.
"All those things he could've done… All those powers… And yet I'd become what I feared of him."
Horrible shakes to suffer in rising back up, but one single duty to become clear in reaching the balcony.
"Says I can shine bright, be the hero he struggles to be… Time I prove those words right now."
Her leap over the rail to crack the pavement, then an immediate sprint over rivers and roads to grab her device and call through the grate. Was again hopeful of gaining the understandings of the underground, until a raspy voice in passing informed her of their sleep. No time to take a message, and knew it, so began her own search instead.
Matter of minutes to fly through all five boroughs, Bronx to Staten Island, only to rediscover worlds of vintage clothing or print comics for her trouble. Might've loved such things in sweeter times, but now had only a scream and thoughts of flipping a car.
"World's End, hell it's gonna be by the time I find him! Computer, can you detect somebody over a long distance?"
"What do I look like, a dog? Why didn't you slip your Lo-jack chip into his pocket?"
"Like I'd think of that between trying to keep peace, and being minced to pieces. Anything else you could suggest?"
"Maybe you could check out the local library? For how bad you reek, not like anybody's gonna stop you."
"As if I wouldn't have checked already, smartass… Kid practically lived and breathed the place, and besides that, how can you expect that he'd be held hostage there?"
"Oh for goodness sake. You realise there's more than books there, don't you? Manuscripts, pictures… Old maps maybe?"
"When my crew and career's dying, do you believe I've got the time to search through THAT collection?"
"I don't know what to tell ya, Leela, I really don't. Only so many miracles I can have installed in one go."
"Wait a minute, that's it! So that you can trace a scent, what can I uninstall for now?"
"Well, you haven't used your two-way radio since becoming Captain, so don't think we need that. And given we have cell phones, your clock's also rather redundant. Let me just optimize my hard drive space, and… We're all set. Who are you after?"
"One Thomas Mayfield, just left his apartment off the New Jersey riverbank. And while you're at it, can you try to trace this 'Admiral' guy too? Gut's tellin' me that creep's more familiar than I'd like to admit."
"Believe I can, but quit wastin' time huh? Too much air 'round here, to be of help."
Ensuite to reach in record time through giant leaps and high-jumping acrobatics; moment she barged in, device to actually attempt jumping off her wrist.
"Ohhhh, never in all my warranty… With every node and chip in my numerous cores, I hate you."
"Hey, you don't think I'd rather be anywhere else? Get to work so we can get out and grab him!"
"Oh fine… Analysing these compounds, I'm getting faint traces far north from here. Gotta be the foulest beings in existence, then, for that to be true."
"Besides Zoidberg, only odour of great offence I've known was from… Holy crap, but how?"
Dared not tempt any further thoughts as she followed her device's calls, hopes raising to hear "Hyperion", "Arctic", then "freezer" as she barrelled through Woodcliff, Edgewater, then past Rockleigh. Palisades Hoverway's winding ways to cause temporary confusion, but upon blazing trails beyond Highland Falls, arriving at Gee's Point, the constant calls of "Hot!" had convinced her.
"Are you kiddin' me? Did we come all the way out here for friggin' nothing?"
"Fear that will happen to not act quick; scents of both of 'em die right at this spot, virtually."
"Whaddya mean by—wait a minute… Something's coming back to me."
"And that'd be?"
"There's shampoo and soap here; brings back a fond memory. Would often joke about an old friend's refusal to wash, how I'd promise to toss 'em straight in the river. But then, that'd mean… Ohhhh noooo!"
Voice to carry and cheeks to press—thoughts of who this Master was, why they ordered this perfect murder—as she'd become an alien torpedo. Every pump and kick of limbs, even to reach supposed bottom, to be of no avail; in resurfacing and reapplying miracles, a growing fear of having to beg for a living.
Memories of old jobs to return with greater resolve; this time every last inch to explore until she'd discover an even deeper section; quicker glows flashing in her eye upon doing so. Deeper she dove, the faster they'd flash—eventually would find her Officer dead at the bottom, victim of an obvious and absolute beatdown.
One to go far beyond her chief's; fears of him falling apart, as she brought him carefully to the shore.
Strapped dress, sidewalks and sheets to be coated in blood, en route to racing the Hudson's length to arrive at Taco Bellevue. Master with a malevolent streak, of that she was assured, as a doctor doing rounds caught her in the middle of hooking Mayfield up.
"Excuse me, you can't come on our premises! Security, secur—"
Simple staredown as she ripped the radio out, crushed it in one grip, to drop the man on his ass.
"Your funeral and theirs to bring 'em in, and none to identify what'll be left… Now stay quiet, and wait here."
Only seconds to change into usual treads, grab out a handful of Nixons and Gores, and silence a true medical expert into submission.
"Alright, I get the hint, the hell do you want then?"
"After bringing this kid here, what do you think I want? You are gonna fix all his problems and get him back into living shape; mention a word of this to anyone, and I'll have YOUR name tagged and bagged. And you better believe I'll be visiting every day… We clear on all this?"
Only heard a sigh and the hum of certain tools; doctor unable to ask after leaving wind in her wake. Fall from grace to be perhaps a given, as the certain sting of one particular adventure left her thudding upon bedsheets, full of rolling and murmurs.
She'd been through this before, these 'what ifs' and inadequacy issues… Highly prized Space Honey, in particular, to order her crew into opposing sedan-sized bees, face their stingers of instant death or inside-out boiling agony. Bender, of course, to anger the hive into swarming them, forcing a jetpack-fuelled chase for their lives.
As a means of growing their own, Queen she'd seize while collecting to grow out of sight; crew's concerns of danger brushed off before it'd turn hostile, and ultimately drill a hole through a defensive Fry's abdomen. His sacrifice to allow only a boo-boo, or so she believed, until cries of waffles or abandoning ship began to fuzz into static.
What'd follow was an enormous fight against a body and mind poisoned—a battleground under a constant assault of funerals, denials, and being declared insane. Even she to wave the white flag and think of eternal peace; just three small, tasty spoonfuls of said honey to do the trick.
Fry's constant words and final pleas, however, to be enough; woke up to see him in tears, kneeling at her side. Turned out, before he too lost consciousness, that he spent his last moments clawing himself to the Captain's wheel, flying them solo to hospital, then addressing the staff of the situation.
Colleagues to also share that despite trying to chew off his restraints, he'd be out within the hour—from there, for every minute of twenty THOUSAND to follow, kept a vigil that'd deny any semblance of comfort, in offering only his voice to her bottomless void.
"All this I'd bring upon myself, this pride, wrath and greed to cause it… No longer from now on."
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So many times to forgo her coffee in exchange for certain 'peace', not that anyone'd guess though for being on time, professional, and beyond competent.
No guilt to go away, and all quarters paid to remain her secret; scary force, even on relatively good days, to keep dragging her. Always the fighting words and fond memories, only those, to dodge the cattle prods, drills, sawblades and knives she thought was deserved, often by inches of late.
Colleagues to murmur or mutter aplenty however; culmination to be an appointment with Zoidberg, with Farnsworth dubbing the order as a 'check' of acuity and faculty. Course, never heard any warnings to Hermes, nor true intentions, as she would tromp in and be greeted by the taps of a tin can.
"What's the deal with human dentists, Captain? Every time you axe for a clean and check-up, they say you should come back at two-thirty."
"Can the comedy act," she'd slap it away. "Just tell me why I have to see you, when we both know you absolutely suck?"
"It'll only be the one time, I promise… Now just turn your head and cough really loud, and I'll—"
She to half-ass it and turn straight back; swing of hammer to dodge with agile grace, then a quick kick to implant its claws into the eye chart.
"Excuse me, I believe I'M the doctor here."
"Suuurrre you are… Strange one that does all the harm, yet does nothing right."
"See how you fare Little Miss Expert, when YOU'RE forced into lives you didn't want, when YOUR efforts get no respect, when YOU are blamed for things that weren't your fault."
"Hey, kudos crab dip, you finally figured it out. Only took ya a whole damned year, with change."
"My mistake, to be mistaken for some mind-reader. Speaking of which, what's with you closing off from us?"
Shutting her eyes, was too busy picturing him in a pot, before a slam of claws snapped her out with haste.
"Damn it Captain, as your friend, would it kill you to answer me just once?"
"What good's a friend who'd sell my life for a minnow, who tried to brain me just now?" A finger to beckon him: "Only words you deserve from me are… I HATE YOU!"
A smirk to ring that hollow head, force some time to refocus: "I knew it, just as I prescribed before… Parents were and still are a factor; no cold soup for Zoidberg tonight!"
"You want an absolute zero can of whoop-ass instead?" she'd advance on him, scuttling him back. "Did you really believe I became Captain 'cause I ENJOYED delivering to galactic assholes all day? All I wanted were answers and friends; don't even have the former to drive me on these days."
"You'll never get them, to not fight for the latter… Unlike you, I speak for knowing."
"This oughta be good… Of everything I've met, of all you've ever done, you've actually GOT a friend besides those you proclaim?"
"Why do you think I took this job, Leela?"
"I imagine it's 'cause the world's hospitals have restraining orders against you."
"Leave the zingers to Hermes, I'm serious. Perhaps it's time I told you a story, one I'll try to keep brief."
Crossing her arms with a growl, she would give him a very reluctant go-ahead.
"Decades ago Hubert and I would serve as military comrades, under Madam Miller's service—such a nice lady. We were to be airlifted over Triton, briefed on missions to occupy the planet and neutralise any local Yetis, ready 'em for dissection. He and I to hit it off fast, and much more so when, I don't know why, we'd end up parachuting into toxic methane swamps."
"Sure explains the odour, the being luckless…"
"Lucky for me I'd be immune, but our entire units weren't. As most laid in bed with fever or spasms, Hubert decided to take such hunts upon himself. Real suicidal choice to go solo, even for elite soldiers, so would join him after trying to treat my patients. Never a more lethal fight for our lives, the instant that fluffy white fiend popped up."
"Oh yeah, how so?"
"Captain, everyone here knows of my outbursts, what I'm capable of for having them… You wanna guess the creature that cracked this skull without effort?"
Whole body to hunch for hearing it—among the stupidest, yet sweetest things Zoidberg ever spoke of.
"Truth was, had I stayed behind, I could've been Chief of Staff under Miller's employ. Have my own lab, been rich, been worth regard… But were it not for Hubert literally risking his neck to kill that bastard, I'd have been leaving Triton in a titanium crockpot."
That story to bring an epiphany of exactly what'd been missing; calls of 'talent scouting' to grab her handbag and walk the halls of Taco Bellevue. Secret passcode to reach an abandoned room; soon got the doctor's gratitude for lifting Mayfield's fleshy middle onto the operating table.
"How's progress, Doc?"
"Lotta meat and bones to put back right; sure been through an ordeal. Assuming the Auto-Docs do their job, however, should be fixed up inside a few days, week at the most."
"Hoo boy, how to break this to him…"
"Pfft, straight talk lady, I wouldn't bother a bit. I've treated him before, and the guy's a complete basket case as is. Lost his mind over nanotech lasers and nanobot syringes, last time."
"Then help me make it make sense. You mean to tell me that, after I rescued him, you'd hack his body to pieces, preserved his head in some H2O-G-fat, then set up all these Auto-Docs to do all the work? Then you're just gonna stitch him back together?"
"Lady, least I know what the hell I'm doin'… Can't say the same for that moron on your company payroll."
"If only it were him that was responsible."
Approaching the jar as the doctor returned to monitoring the machines, would squat down and flash a smile toward her EO's blank shuteye.
"There's gold inside of ya, to give so much… Time you got it back, perhaps get a friend too."