Fresh off his first night as probationary Delivery Boy, Mayfield rose before breakfast and showers to test his first cream of the copies. Thoughts swirling in mind of family, of survival, and of suspicion, as first came the squeeze, and then came the rub.
Once again the drowning sensation, the icing up of his chest, that giant instinctive breath… And just a few moments before a roar to awaken the entire city, of knowing that Amy had been proven right about The Professor. Old and losing it, sure, but not worthless as once feared.
Though Leela did air her concerns of her cream not being there, she took a worldly weight off his shoulders when she clapped her charge on the back, confident that he wasn't responsible.
All there was now, after that clean-up, were the whirlwind adventures in front of them…
The cargo thieves in between had remained just as chaotic and common, but Mayfield's obsession over miracles by this point had left him quite the 'divine intervention' against them. Great deals of fun to be had in playing 'superhero', and especially in letting Leela and Amy get their licks in.
Over time, be they creatures or man, they went from 'sure thing' to 'SOL'; coinage for both their final drop-off point, and for the final words they'd ever hear… "Shit Outta Luck."
Orders nastier were decompressions, yet they'd been few, far between, and catered for thanks to Leela's piloting senses. Better yet, they'd often be back in the stars in no time, fuelled and patched up courtesy of a string of successful deliveries…
Noumel-13 for starters, where they were to deliver several crates of sweets marked 'building materials'. Mayfield wasn't sure why at first, but he could've created virtual cream fillings of his own when he stroked and smelt that crackling chocolate surface. Took his side-eyed peeks, and got ready to smash a piece before he heard Leela's familiar yell.
From the flowing streams of hot fudge, caramel and strawberry, to a maze made of ice-cream, he could've made moves to declare citizenship once he seized that chocolate bar, one that even he would've been eating for weeks. Instead, Leela needed just an evil eye to have him return, dragging the bar by his lonesome.
Next up was HG's Fuel, to deliver gas and goodies as he beheld the Sun before him. Virtually next door, that same star which gave, kept and often took the lives of many an Earth creature and flower…
Had a time kicking up Moon dust at Luna Park, once they re-supplied the snack bars. To think a landing and mere speech a millennium ago would lead to this, as he visited the arcade, groaned for the gophers, and snapped along to the Moon Street jazz musicians.
Feared for Don McLean's prophecy upon hearing those 'whalers', but felt it die the same day when, after delivering a dozen Holophonors—purple, oboe-like, saucer-topped pieces—for the Symphonia-9 orchestra, he was gifted a one-of-a-kind Symphod. A device to play any tune, of any source, from the past 1500 years.
Mayfield might've back-flipped for that, but there was one true highlight to top such a treasure… The delivery to the Waldorf Asteroid, of exceptional Ming vases to one Mrs. Astor.
Though only Mayfield would stare at both her butler's and her nostrils, she flashed a rare smile for their care, and in so doing, slapped a $25,000 tip in his hands.
To get double for the job might've made him curse, but instead, he could only stutter profuse thanks before his legs jellied back to the ship. Even for his small split, he could've swooned…
"Twenty-five hundred dollars?! Holy shit, even a month on the phones couldn't beat this!"
"Yeah right kid… Come on, hand over our share!" the Captain chided.
"Oh, you think so? Ma'am, if you close your eye I'll give you a present, just like I'll do for Amy."
Reached into a pocket, and thudded those sweet greens into her palm. Her reaction of collapsing into her seat, hand over her chest, had him laugh.
"T-t-t-that's fifteen GRAND in my palm… You sure that's mine, you didn't steal it or anything?"
"I might've been from the Stupid Ages, but even I've got limits on idiocy ma'am!"
Another venture for home, only the Captain's cheers, Amy's whoops, and the kid's high fives to be heard…
Two weeks of signatures, wide waves and smiles soon had the word spreading, and fast, between systems & galaxies. Customers who once swore off and spat acid—critical and literal—at Planet Express had come back crawling, allowing the orders to grow and the money to pile in.
Even better, the stack of logs that once sent Leela berserk could now be shuffled idly in her hands; her good ship was reinforced, better equipment had come in, and to her charge's delight, she had revealed a dual set of Blamco-branded, Laser SMG turrets for his use…
"Hoohhhhhhhhh…" A hop from foot to foot. "Oh please, oh please, oh please let those bandits come our way…"
On a personal note, better news had arrived when Mayfield got promoted to Delivery Boy, 1st Class, a month since he'd been inducted. Sure welcomed getting double his share of tips, even admit to being pleased for the claps and happy calls too.
But despite being all smiles for everyone's recent fortunes, Leela snapped to attention when The Professor clapped the rookie for being his 'greatest miracle'. She always did question who stole her cream, and it seemed she had her answer after all…
Excusing herself to pack up early, all she did was lean against the doorframe as one-by-one, her colleagues entered and began to pack. Towards Mayfield as he checked his things, the same tremor and rise in heartrate before she called out.
"Just us two now, right kid?"
"Problem, Captain?"
"Leave your stuff in there and follow me, unless you want one."
"Perhaps after a shower? Hey, you know I won't go…"
"Kid, last time… Right. Now."
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"Why the tone? Surely SOMEONE had clued her in, right?"
As he trailed behind, Mayfield knew he had fallen in too deep. Closing times aside, he still had no-one to vouch for him as Leela led him towards the basement, through a creaking door, and into a brand new room.
Only a grit of "Gods help you if you leave" before she started back down the corridor.
Though he could only shiver, Mayfield had to curse himself for not knowing about their own underground library, chaise lounges and all. Solitude right at home, as his hands curved that hand-carved wood. Watched the pendulum of that grandfather clock, carefully rubbed a finger against the bastard sword, eyed that Washington Monument bust…
His Captain soon entered, a pot of tea and biscuits in her hands. Might've asked what such quaintness was about, before she pointed to the couch, placed her set on the coffee table, and poured a cup with nary a word.
"Um, Ma'am, what room did you just lead me to?"
A glower over the rim: "The accusing parlour, I'm sure you know why."
Well that stopped him of any good word… And of all times he needed to talk.
"What? I thought it was an underground library."
"Sure, in fact it's many things. Today only, there's one book you'd better pay attention to, one of my own personal dictation."
She stood up and scrolled the shelves, giving an "Ah!" for finding her journal. For the tone she spat, how her face remained calm was a great mystery.
"You know, I can't chalk you getting that end locker as your fault, and I'll admit that since I suffered you, you've made it worthwhile from time to time. It's the matter of how that has bothered me though."
"I can see where this is going…"
"Oh, can you? Can you tell me, in defiance of all logic, how you succeeded in Stumbos-4 against two fatally burst lungs and a broken back? And all without equipment or experience no less?"
"If it's about that damned…"
"Excuse me, I'm the one speaking! On that note though, how is it that you're still alive, that you're speaking and walking just fine, without actual evidence of proof?"
In his fresh wave of dread, Mayfield couldn't say a word.
"Let's consider Noumel-13; your disgraceful behaviour aside, how 'bout that chocolate bar, huh? I had to use the spare dolly, you dragged it like a stick. But moments later, you couldn't move it from the cargo bay to save your life… Why, I've seen moments when you couldn't even load simple crates in there!"
"Okay Cap, cut it right there! If you want me to clarify something, just say it."
"How dare you give me such an order… In this world, this real world, I'm your boss and I give the orders, UNDERSTAND?"
"Yes Le… I mean, ma'am," as he stuffed his hands in his jeans.
"Mercury's surface now. 800 degrees Fahrenheit on a good day, yet from where I stood you acted like you owned the place. Yet on Earth, I remember you sweating liberally during our first weekend tour. Amazing how you avoided that fancy third-degree sunburn inside of a minute, huh?"
Not a word to say, as she finished the rest of her tea.
"How stupid did you think I was, that I wouldn't find out one way or another? Surveillance tapes, my little tests, being a personal eyewitness?" Soon began to tower as his head hit his hands. "You mean to tell me, that from our first day of work, all you did was LIE to me?!"
"Dammit, about what? Surely someone had let you in, that I… I…"
And then he realised, in those obsessive tests, that he had forgotten about his 'payment.' Had promised to himself on good faith that he'd refill the crewman's safe, and failed…
"Oh, starting to click now?"
"It's about that Miracle Cream, isn't it? I know I've invited a reminder and why, and if you'll allow me, I'll rectify that right now. First, just give me permission to leave for the lockers, and I'll explain everything."
"I already know the answers, so permission thoroughly denied. Matter of fact, I'll do you one better. I'll bet your life that you have some on you right this second. And you'll get just three to prove that I'm wrong, or I'll rip you apart to find out myself."
"Captain, for Christ's sake! It's not what you think it looks like!"
"One."
"You know I can't outrun, outfight or outdo you, certainly not by natural means."
"Two."
"You know that eventually, I'd return here… One way or another, I'd have to tell you!"
"THREE!"
A lunging push kick had pounded his fleshy guts, the impact imploding him like a condemned building. In his coughs and cries, Leela almost ripped his jeans off to find what she knew all along.
Her first and only tube of cream, now hardly enough for heroic busywork never mind her future plans. In that moment, she had him caught dead to rights. There could be no doubt as to his OWN future plans… That of fitting in, acceptance, and now replacement.
On Mayfield's end, to see her face grow red was to have him think of breaking her rules again, and to hell with any consequences. Might've done so if his planned eye poke hadn't been stopped by her kick, as he laid there coughing and clutching his intestines…
"You know what, fuck your permission ma'am!"
Her gaze after could've turned the bowels of Hell into a skating rink, as she started to cradle those granite fists of hers. Large gasps of air, all in trying to stop veins from bursting through her throat. As he stood and walked, she slapped a forceful palm in his chest and let him see for himself…
The slow lock of all three handles, and his only escape route as good as gone.
"Swear on my family, wherever they lie, that I can clear this matter up in moments. Just listen Captain, please!"
"You've had your chances, boy! It's about time my friends received their farewell justice…"
"The hell… Your friends?! You never told me anything about them!"
"One took them from me, you've kept them from me… May I be forgiven when I make you join your worthless lot."
Her charge just paused in shock, while she paced about. Before long, a flash of fists and a flying knee, all to the cheeks & chin, to drop him back to the floor.
"Get up. Quit making me wait."
"Does it matter?" he coughed.
"Get up and be smacked down, or stay down and be PUT down."
"Maybe I'll get her to understand, if I live."
That in mind, Mayfield had barely levelled his feet before a large grey boot had shattered his patella inward. A curdling scream she paid no mind, before she stomped and crushed his right hand. In her eye, a look to corrode his body.
"So that was your game all along? Help yourself to that cream, so you could soon replace my friends?"
Not a word in reply, and only tears of great pain and fear from both.
"ANSWER ME!"
"Even if I had known… You think I'd be such an arsehole as to do that?"
"Ever since we met, your God-damned actions already gave me the answer! The scream, the middle fingers, the mouthing off, the lying…"
"The first three I'll vouch for, but the lying?"
She grabbed his throat, slammed him against the wall and, to further surprise, lifted his hefty frame against it.
"You know damn well you walked into that locker room, first thing in the morning, to snatch that cream! Do you deny it?!"
Gasps as he spoke: "For the love of God, YES! Look, I don't deny taking it from the safe, but did you think I ignored your words and warnings? Trust & believe, I'm not the 'greatest miracle' The Professor deems me to be… Let me get to my locker, and you'll understand!"
"No, I'm done suffering your tricks. I'm done holding my hand out. I'm done with you."
She dropped him to the floor and strode to another bookshelf, finding and gripping a large storybook as Mayfield tried to prop up against the fireplace.
"Here's a new volume of life lessons to LEARN!" as she slammed him across the head, over & over. At a solid five pounds or so, it didn't take her long to indent a deep cut into his head; blood spurted all over her weapon, and even her hands. Another whip-crack boot in his face, now busted open even before her ground-n-pound.
All this in just minutes, and when she'd given herself all the time in the world…
"Want some tea? I've prepped it extra hot, just for you."
The steam still scalded the air, as she poured the pot over his face. Akin to molten gold, least to lacking experience, Mayfield could only scream once he smelt the scoring, bloodied skin.
He just had no idea anymore.
Going into several shocks, it was only helpless defiance against this monster that somehow kept him alive. Had no will to beg anymore, not that she'd ever hear such pleas. Indeed, she stared at the sword, the fireplace and the other books before finally resting her eye on the marble bust.
Commemorated one of the greatest Presidents of a long past time, and just like that man, she was about to put her Benedict to the sword.
The fantasies that whirled through as she heaved the marble—must've been 20 pounds—and prepared her swing. All before she settled for ramming his tee, and after yelling "Fore!"
At least after ignoring the other damage done, she got down to a squat, arm over her knee, and surveyed her final assault. Pale, clammy skin, a fast-fading consciousness, a rapid pulse…
"Well, it looks like you're not long for this world… Any last words?"
Gave her just one wide-eyed, parabolic frown, a dare to finish it, before she rose back and began to leave. Unclicked the locks, knowing there was no way to remove the evidence.
Not that she cared as she opened the door: "Farewell from New New York… You son-of-a-bitch."
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In a strange serenity as she floated through the corridor, numb to the situation's gravity, it wasn't long before she left out the hole and into the bitter, cold night.
Didn't even see The Professor, counting several bundles of crisp currency at the conference desk. In occasional little hums and claps, he didn't care to pay her any mind.
In time, her feet began to flee from Planet Express, far away and as fast as possible. Sent any pedestrians scurrying if not shoved aside, before she stopped and sank to her knees in Central Park. Before long, a resentful scream to pierce the air, one to send all those dozen or so skaters in opposite directions.
In confronting that fact that her long-time closest friends were gone for good, she somehow found her way home, bashed her door in, and rained plaster upon her head by punching solid holes into the wall.
For all the good she tried to do, for taking the chance on a stranger… To think this complete injustice would be the reward she received. Where beautiful times and special companionship, dreams she fought to make reality, had vanished before her eye.
But even in her tears and searing skull of hatred, even for the horrendous crime she knew hung over her shoulders, there was a slither of a smile.
She got her revenge on their behalf; somewhere, and she knew it so, they were smiling for her…