If her stagger into the kitchen or snarling storm of curses didn't make it obvious, neither man nor machine should've crossed Leela's path this morning. Hell, she began the day via an abrupt command to her replicator, alarming it off standby.
"Coffee, piping hot, black… NOW."
"My goodness, Miss Leela… No offence, but you look awful this morning. May I suggest you forgo the coffee and get some rest?"
Very poor choice of words, however unintentional, towards such a lady.
"Once more, I want a coffee, piping hot, BLACK. And, you pompous snob, if I repeat myself a third time…"
Could've made the whole building check the thermostat as only a feeble "Yes, ma'am" was heard, and she sipped in absolute silence, numb to her sizzling tongue.
"All these years, I've wrung my hands for Planet Express… Why did I even bother?"
Why indeed, when she had only the bitter coffees, loneliness and nightmares to show for the studies & discipline? Still the bills had to be paid, so she slammed down her mug, wiped her lips, and let them curl as she stropped to the bathroom.
Down came the ponytail, massaged to cascade down her back… On came the shower, one to soak in the whole morning if she could… The old Leela would've slapped the spit out of her for such a statement.
Couldn't ignore how nature had once helped her find lone beauty in this world's permanent ugliness, nurtured that side of her… Came from the sweet flora that bloomed in the sour rot of where she'd grown up.
And so it was that she scrubbed and lathered her lavender shampoos, slid those foreman-like gloves over her skin, soaped those fruitful summer orchards over her body. The moment she took a razor to her pointy elbow talons, she had to let a growl escape…
"Of all times to have these, it couldn't be last night?"
What the hell stirred her to think that… A dead body and 25-to-life sentence on her hands? No obnoxious scream and ruined night's sleep was worth that much, as she did her usual routine and slung her handbag over her shoulders.
Started for the street, before she found that familiar bag of fuzz, fat and fractures. A searching eye-roll, a shake of the head, and yet a double back—nose pinched and bile in her chest—to inspect him against better judgement.
Wasting in the gutters aside, there were some peculiar pieces to take in. That one imperfect flaw, through his five fingers. Those clothes he wore, that none would've sold 'round here. The clear voice of panic & protest, instead of just running…
Such instincts had reminded her of her old friends, helped calm her malice to something a touch more maternal. Day after that anonymous call, she spoke that same voice, screamed the same way, and struggled since to raise back up.
"I just know I'm going to regret this."
A subdued sigh to escape, as she grabbed a nearby bucket and filled it with ice-cold tap water—a summer specialty. Down the stairs, out the door, and a frown as she dumped the contents over his head & body.
Might've saw the stranger in a different light, but to forgive his choices? Not on her life.
Got virtually the same reaction as he bolted up and gasped for breath, a stare of intense hatred to give. Pictured her that moment like she were a voodoo doll, before the pain caught up and he doubled over…
"Rise and shine deadbeat, it's Friday morning! You're letting precious hours go to waste."
Only groans escaped his mouth; what'd he give to share an opinion…
"Hello, am I talking to myself here?"
"That's what I would've preferred." Only came out as garbled nonsense.
"Sit up and speak up!"
"Great idea, you Mensa candidate…" Further garbles, but at least a point towards what he meant to communicate: "Cracked my jaw, so much as I'd love to, can't!"
"Let me ask you, pal... Do you know why you're here?"
A slumped shake of the head, before he covered his face and sank again.
"You're here nursing yourself because you're the jerk who woke me up! Such ridiculous screaming & yelling… But I believe in fairness, so fresh from our city spring, consider that my personal wake-up call for YOU."
Only foul disbelief as he struggled gamely and stood under his own power, his eyes to set the world ablaze.
"Here's your fuckin' fairness, freak!"
The words pure nonsense, the message never clearer, as his extra fingers gave a soaring protest in response. Giving her the 'bald eagles', and letting them fly for some time, he turned his back and trudged off, pissed for those beautiful dreams being stolen, this new reality to face.
Her teeth and fists now a Code Red, Leela had felt strong temptations and twisted fantasies to tail him and rip those digits off herself. But she knew that the satisfaction wouldn't be enough, and that he was a dead man walking anyway.
Still, she could've eroded the stone souls of whoever caught her eye, have those pedestrians flinch and have arrests. In better times, citizens knew the name Turanga Leela, and of certain deeds enough that she didn't need to put such God-like fears into anyone. For better or worse, they knew of the absolute prime she could reach.
A form that faded fast though, as her yawns grew pronounced and her stomps slowed to shuffles…
"Gotta stop off again already? Oh Lord…"
Only one place she knew could cater for such a 'get-serious' fix, one which often had queues out the door and around the block… Guadalajara Brown Drip. An inaudible mouthing as she slipped in, eventually demanded her drink and stood aside, watching the baristas who brewed, steamed and poured the nation's unofficial bloodstream.
A ruthless pace for the hundreds of haggard workers in need of their daily fix.
"Pick up for octuple espresso!" came the call.
The only order fit for a Captain, given how a moment's inattention could've spelt disaster. As she sucked down and pulled faces for her crude-oil coffee, she could only pray upon the spirits of Mexico as she soon approached HQ.
¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)
Arriving seconds before roll-call, she had chests pounding like parrots, a close eye kept on the crazy-eyed, murder-grinning combo that disguised the empty 'Ma'am' wearing it… Slashford, to give it a name.
Cared nothing for her colleagues' shivers, as the caffeine coursed in her capillaries, and she lost count of how often the riot act had been read to her… "Oh please, let them fire me."
They never would, such was her value, and so it was that she sent the co-workers scurrying upon a serene skip to the lounge. A click through the channels, and no end to the garbage on screen.
Two shouting sales heads, all-smiles while they advertised 'camouflage briefs'. Could've been tempted to cross her fingers, hope for a malfunction… Next, a Mittens the Kitten segment on Root 2 News, and Morbo sharing a story of his kitten buffet… To those on the elevator, he wasn't called the Annihilator for nothing.
Extreme Toddler Wrestling; a Hardcore match between 'Babyface' Bob (an initial gun of a grappler) and 'Kutey Kid Krush' (a 'widdle' guy boasting wide power). For Doubledeal to make a buck by clutching at centuries-old controversy… It had Leela shout "Oh dear God!" at the desperation.
Re-runs of 'Cooking with Elzar', 'The Scary Door' and 'All my Circuits', every last one a harsh reminder, was what ultimately made her switch off, and consider a skip-step towards the attic. The stranger inventions of the Professor's resided there, including the Smell-O-Scope.
A device to analyse, determine and reproduce smells over universal distances, she had had questions for it in anxious times… Could she use it to detect Fry's pungent scent?
Even a year beyond their final mission, she could remember how his sometime odour overpowered Zoidberg on occasion. Contamination be damned, but only love might've stopped her from tossing him, shampoo, and a bar of soap into the Hudson.
Yet it was always her boss to prove her wrong, always him to relish calling her a "depressed lunatic" right after. Though she couldn't disagree, she had to wonder what he knew of love to give up so readily.
Another time perhaps, as she shuffled away to climb HQ's roof. Sitting beside the spire, a chance to reflect, stare towards the twinkle of New Jersey beyond the river. Proof that even the most worthless places could look beautiful from a distance.
She could see it now, those grand old days. Fry would be at work eating breakfast off his head, sampling chips and dip through his foot, or humming Walking on Sunshine any chance he got. Never forgot his showcases of love either; once desperate, childish & moronic, they had since evolved to laying down his life without hesitation, just to save her. Last year had been once too often, and their fairytale had been denied.
Soon sick of the views, she sought out Amy, still seated at conference flipping through her catalogue. For any sort she was living proof of the perfect adage that, those who had really got it, you could never really tell. And only her closest friends were told, at any rate.
"Hey Amy, you got a minute? Just, I don't know, had been thinking about a few things."
She glanced up as her Captain grabbed a seat, more than a little confused.
"I'll tell you what's been on my mind, Captain… Your smile had me screeped out today! There been a problem?"
"You're Sherlock's second coming… The hell do you think?" Leela snapped, staring at her own crossed palms. "Pick your poison from awful nightmares, losing my friends, seeing this business die… You think I'd sleep a single minute? And don't get me started on the screaming jackass I helped to sleep, that rude mother…"
History was written by the winners; that was one of the rare times she did.
"Shwhoa, cool it Captain, they're no-one in your life now! Though given your luck, I halfway expected you to axe him out, honestly."
"Please girl, I actually have standards… Not like some classless Chinese skanks I know."
"Standards, spleh! How do you think I worked up to my Kiffy, huh? How do you know what you want in this game when you're too afraid to play? Trust me, you'll die bitter and alone long before you find the perfect man."
"I'm an eyeball, dummy. You'd get all the men, regardless of whether they knew your name, and you DAMN well know it! Besides, how could one replace the kind of love I had before?"
Always time for a tit-for-tat, against the woman who put the 'friend' in friendly rivalry. They both said it best already; the silent treatment meant serious shit, and thankfully, Amy's reassuring hug and shoulder pat had them nowhere near that level yet.
Even so, Leela started off for Zoidberg's office, shaking her head for the idea. Had her own and Hermes' reasons for hating him, but remembering past experiences, he'd do in a pinch.
Alone he sat in his office, shuffling some paperwork before he heard the knock. "I'll be a minute!" he yelled, sprinkling stolen salt and pepper rations over them. An invite inside, as his two-week wide gap was quietened down.
"Ah Leela, lovely to see you this morning, so bright and cheerful! How can I help you?"
She leaned against a counter, twirled her ring finger, and sighed, before giving a low snarl in place of good morning.
"Zoidberg, are you serious right now? Look, I'll just tell you straight… I doubt you can help and I don't know how long I'll last, but as far as my issues go, I…
"Whoa whoa, slow down Leela! I'm a doctor, not a psychologist, and even that first one's…"
"Just shut up & listen, okay? Every day I've worked this past year, I've either put on fake faces, hopped myself up on caffeine, or found myself on the verge of a mental breakdown. All three at once, some days. Point is, I've really seen my fuse shrink the longer I've stayed, and for what happens… I don't want to remain Planet Express Captain if it keeps happening."
"I see, that diagnosis sounds quite certain… Ah, of course! I know the bother; as a doctor and expert on medical medicine, it's barnacle rot. It's incurable, so just gotta learn to accept it, I'm afraid."
Almost wished she could wind her hand back and whack him, but knew that decapod skull would damage her more than him.
"For the love of… Okay you dumb crab, here's the clear and simple version. I want to keep my crew safe in case I do lose my mind. Now do you have advice, ANY advice, on what I can do or don't you?"
Ignored as Zoidberg called Amy for his next patient, earning a tide of Cantonese cursing for his trouble, Leela felt a shiver of rage as she stalked Zoidberg and sent him scuttling into the wall.
"I'm in no mood to be screwed around… Do so again you buttered lobster bisque, and so help me I'll break out the recipe book!"
"Somebody, help, I'm being threatened!"
A large squirt of self-defensive ink soon splattered all over her, before he clacked his claws right out of his office.
"Whoop whoop whoop whoop whoop whoop whoop, nyeh eh eh!"
Her hair and face covered in sticky, sewer-scented ooze, Leela experienced a seismic rise in heartrate, her skin boiling hotter than the Sun. Small growls of sorts, growing louder, before she seized her head & screamed, before she crucified that office so often useless in his claws. There went his papers, his chair, the so-called privacy screen, the equipment…
"Gods damn it, I'm done!"
This was it, no words needed. Her present life so precisely illustrated in that dripping ink, that she might've done a 'Johnny Paycheck' then and there without caring if she could afford to. But perhaps that would've been rash…
Another good soap & scrub, a little reminiscing of sorts, and she'd be ready to fly again.
Having grounded her so often in those early years, Cookieville was her wonderful reminder of how far she came since being abandoned on its doorstep. Against the class of orphans who—back then and in reunion—never let her forget her flaws, it was sweet revenge to remember how she conquered them in the end.
A same or similar opinion that Fry and Bender used to share…
Hoping to forget as she tore the treacle-like gunk off her face, it was noon or so before she vanished for the lockers, down the lobby and right out the door, not a peep dared spoken from her or anybody else.
All the great stories and triumphs she could tell herself, as she meditated in her old bedroom, stared at those rotted photos, or gave the gym floor a wax & polish. Could've envisioned a heap of hours there, within those long-condemned hallways.
In her walk towards old memories, a prayer towards clarity of mind. But once again, she had no idea how the Fates were about to test her…