For the shitty shoe she'd been dealt, all those heavy hands from life's casino, one had to salute what that once-forsaken orphan had become. But for often pushing beyond such limits to get there, she could hardly feel gratified for her commendable list of achievements.
Lost crew and nightmares aside, those dozens of daily frustrations, ones she hadn't release until yesterday evening, had made an explosive powder keg out of her. Only wisdom's light from the depths had virtually stopped the usual flails & murmurs, even gave a clean, blank picture of sorts to block her nightmares.
Rubbing her eye and cracking her knuckles, her smile could've blinded the Sun as she bounded out of bed. A puffed-up stride to go, and a race through the routine in record time.
To think she was planning on taking much more leave than this…
Gave a wide wave and cheerful "Good morning!" at conference, which had her colleagues pass off a side stink-eye. Might've wondered aloud on who replaced the Leela they knew, until they too had laughed and returned it in kind.
Though Amy still had her trust issues, such lightness had kept any protests to a minimum. Matter of fact, the good fortune would even extend towards the delivery on Angra-7.
Quite the blessing as the two town guards, a full head taller even without Mohawks, had been too busy lusting over them to suspect a thing. To be fair it didn't seem like the best post to hold; they'd been making games of wall-spitting, of slagging off misfires, to question what laid inside those wooden crates.
Reaching the camp hidden from view, they soon unloaded those large delicious fruits, the medicine bottles of various coloured puppies painted over them. An affectionate "Awww!" from the ladies, and a head-scratching frown from the blue-vested leader.
"Jeez, they don't know these rat bastards like we do," he sighed before signing off.
Giving the guards a kiss to remember them by, the two ladies just laughed and hugged, glad to know that all those stories hadn't come to pass.
"Burn on those old crews!" Leela gloated. "Only things they did better were soil their pants and run away!"
Soon kicked herself for saying it; one old crewmember had done so already, to lead her to this life.
Though work in the coming days hadn't all been cruisy & complaint-free, Leela's sewer-striding new friends had soon become paramount in keeping her spaceship steady. The moment her knuckles rapped the metal, they'd drop everything in their eagerness to rush over and chat.
Life in the big city, survival way down below, how work had been… Eventually anything on their mind, and almost nothing sacred. Had Leela laugh to herself; to think the best conversations were had among the grotesque, subhuman beings that everyone had made her believe.
"If only these people could've adopted me," she'd often whisper.
In the days since they met, she had known a kindness, wisdom and love that for her entire life before Planet Express, nobody above had given. In so-called heavens, pure hell save for the few years her friends had her back.
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Friday night at Studio 122133; Leela had been sipping drinks, cracking dirty jokes and dancing among colleagues to bother worrying about an extension. Having embraced that sweet drink from the cup of life, she'd soon go jive swinging through the apartment doors, do a cha-cha up the stairs, and even sing a couple notes as she turned the key… Unaware of the argument between the sewer creatures all the while.
"No New New Yorker would dare go there, let alone voluntarily LIVE there!"
"Besides our kind, who else do you know with five fingers?"
"No-one, but it still means we're going off the word of your friends."
"You think I don't know that? You think I'd want to disappoint her again?"
"So do we tell her Morris? That we've seen A five-finger, but not THE five-finger?"
"Who's got the PhD, Munda? All I've got are my friends, and they have never let me down before."
Hair down, face sweaty and feet smelly, Leela sat upon her bed and started to squirm, the satisfying wriggle in her gut to have her snigger, chuckle, and drop into full-blown stitches for how good recent days had been.
Sprang to attention though, especially after SHE heard the knocks this time…
"Rather strange to have you rap that grate… Guessing you've got some leads for me?"
A small hum, before Munda spoke up: "To shoot straight for a second dear, we still can't confirm the one you're after, at least 100 percent anyway."
"Well, if it weren't for my career, there'd be no rush."
"What my lady friend means,"—Morris interjected—"is that we've axed our contacts over and over to double-check if that was the guy you were after. Took a long-lost acquaintance to sniff him down; says their stare would haunt his dreams for weeks. Just as well you mentioned the five fingers, or we'd have been good for Chupanibre chow."
Leela's ears had perked then and there.
"In addition, was said he hugged some brown paper bags so tight, they looked ready to burst. We sent some more men to investigate the networks and nearby; confirmed some residencies, but couldn't quite nail them."
"Ohhhh, I don't like the sounds of that…"
"We didn't either, so we sent our big-eared friend, 'Elephant', to check out the area. Guy's a true prodigy, if you'll permit me. We met after he heard my butt squeak from a mile away, spread the word 'fore I even knew. A thing of beauty, so was said, I got a massive shout at the bar that day!"
Leela could feel her own cocktails rise up her throat: "Eww, no offense, but I didn't want to hear that."
"Right, my apologies. So 'Elephant' hung about; believe it was late Thursday evening when he heard the rattles of sewer pipes. Heard a bunch of rambling, in between occasional swigs and wretched tears. Whoever it was eventually went overboard, for 'Elephant' ate a faceful soon after."
Leela felt her intestines squirm, not out of delight: "Faceful of what, dare I ask?"
"Had to call over 'Picasso Nose', he figured it was mostly DOT'S MATRIX with dashes of Trotter and rare bits of junk food. Disco Square Fries, Nuklear Kohr's frozen custard… Had been getting plenty of spearmint and saltwater through his sink, in addition."
Far from exclaiming eureka, Leela leapt up in a dawn of horror.
"Son-of-a-bitch, the first day we met I smelt strong whiskey on his breath, saw him covered in that foul bile. If those paper bags mean anything… Oh crap, I can't let that happen, and it will if I don't know where he's gone."
Had to stand, pace about and scratch her chin, before she arrived to their same conclusion.
"Wait a minute, those foods you mentioned, I remember having them with my friends to celebrate DOOP's General being ousted. You mean to tell me that…"
Munda's voice had dropped: "Yes, where no New Yorker would dare to tread. I knew you wouldn't believe us if we told you."
"Oh, rest assured I believe you, but for him to disappear to such a derelict corner of the country?" A loud gulp for the realisation. "The hell did I do, and where would he sleep in that forsaken hellhole that…"
The answer snapped immediately into mind; the face-palm to follow could've knocked a horse over.
"Oh dear God, how could I have been so stupid?!"
"Is something the matter, dear?"
"Let's just say that he never knew our story of state pride. Long ago, Hermes once kicked Fry to the curb for all the mess and worries he'd caused. Came into work one morning, telling us how he'd slept at Bender's place. Once I cracked his neck back, I knew I had to take him apartment hunting. One of those we found, we denied explicitly because of the location… That must be where the kid is RIGHT now."
"Well, if you really think so, then it's been our pleasure."
"Hey, you've been a massive lifeline, and whatever comes of this, thank you so much."
"Think nothing of it, princess. You need us again, you know where to find us. Love you!" Morris called.
"Goodnight, love you both!"
Had first thought of sleeping on her words, giving herself time for a delicate approach. Hearing about that breakdown though, she knew she had to intervene.
Just as well her friends had cleared her head, so she could stop the kid from losing his.
A bigger crime might've been on his mind, especially against the one to leave him dying alone without a chance. Perhaps this was another reason he gave her that gift…
An insurance policy, for the twisted fantasies he had already warned her of.
If by chance they met as virtual equals, they could just eye each other before she apologised, explained everything. Hell, she'd answer any question open-book style if she had to.
But as she rubbed her cream, got dressed to run, she couldn't realise that 'policies' weren't the only reason to grant that gift…
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For an hour's swim between piers, it was a whole world between Mayfield and the life left behind. In this private self-imposed exile, he could count his grands, read his books and relax to music, only the mere silhouettes of New New York to keep him company.
Course, if the daily routine failed to do so, that one familiar shadow in the distance would always prompt fresh nightmares again.
Tender chews of his food. Crying for seeing his face. A screech against innocuous shower steam. The gripping hugs to avoid spilling groceries. All the twinges and yelps while climbing the stairs…
Probably could've relieved—if not cured—all those problems with just a single miracle rubdown, of perhaps hundreds left. But knew that wouldn't bring him true health, for the memories would've remained regardless.
All those plus the hours of clenched fists, pulsing veins and venom-filled throat had soon become an intervention in waiting. Grocery shopping had fallen before 'cures' of 101-proof whiskey, of cans of cola, and of constant excuses to 'reflect' once the gleaming city lights began to shine…
In recent days, the best medicine he had known was the 'DOT and Trot'; a half-mix of each.
Cracking the can scrawled 'Trust winners, not people!' on its side, he poured his mix and ambled for the balcony. Glass in hand he'd lay upon his back, grab his Symphod, and command a special tune…
"Play for me Kenny G's Going Home. 5% slower, shift the pitch."
"At once, sir."
Wasn't long before he shut his eyes to the smooth sample, heard the saxophone sweep him out to sea… For soon drifting away and out of reach, perhaps he could finally relax and start to forget it all.
Of course, just a few hundred feet below, the one to burden him most had just crossed the border…
Leela had drawn her jacket closer once the winds picked up, and took to staring past the apartment and towards the numerous balconies. Hadn't seen the place for years, and to think, she might've thought of snapping it up had the location remained secret.
Over a beer and a few laughs, quite the choice for her own reflection.
Instead, she readied herself to judge the best path towards her charge, at least before she just shrugged and took a sudden spring towards a tenth-floor balcony.
Grabbing the metal bannister, her first of several solid grips, she tried to laugh off Zoidberg's mockeries, those pointed accusations with thoughts of "As if he could talk" swirling in mind. Course, that only brought about stomach spasms to seize her up.
Perhaps he had been right; Amy did spill heaps of beans on the mutilated crew before Mayfield, and she had their rants on tape as proof. Thinking about it further, even the one to fancy himself her 'suitor' didn't suffer her worst, and she could've written a memoir for all those dealings with him.
A few more almighty leaps, and there he was; splayed out, empty glass, tunes on a continuous shuffle. A close-up look at his face and body told her the whole story, one to stumble her back, grip the bannister behind and breathe in a panic.
"How peachy to have you here…"
Kicked herself for the metal groaning in her hands, had forgotten about the super-strength. Either way, she winced as he woke, rose up to stare, and began to bare his teeth…
"So, you cracked the case of the Disappearing Deadbeat… You happy, Detective?"
"I'm, oh Lord, I'm so… I'm so sorry kid, I just…"
"So that's why you darken my home? To feed me THAT sorry excuse of an apology?"
"Of all the times I needed to talk… I had hoped so."
"Why do you think I insist on remembering the past, hmm? Did you really believe I'd have wanted to piss you off, given a choice?"
"Given a choice?"
"I sowed the seeds right to my back-up plan, I'll confess to that much. But The Professor coerced me to act; would've called the police first thing had I refused. I'm sure a shining lass like yourself can figure out the rest."
As he struggled to his feet and moved inside for another mix, she followed him in. Only a scowl to give, as he poured.
"Come on, I get it now! My words might be worthless, but please hear me out… I know I can make amends somehow."
Another good swallow: "Amends? For a guy whose blisters could burst as they brush their teeth? For one who fears steam and water of any kind? For one who must hug their bags to stop them spilling? For one who climbs these fifty floors on one good knee, gasping to breathe? Floor's yours, you one-eyed psycho."
"They were my personal failures, and mine alone. To hear our boss forced your hand… Point is, I'm here to pay back your favour."
"Far too late, tough titties. A damn shame too; what made you think I wouldn't have appreciated the story behind my cabin, your tribute, that Miracle Cream, or those friends of yours?"
"I just didn't think you'd have cared. That you were too busy going after your own goals."
"You gave me my start, idiot! When one fears your very presence, how on Earth do you make time?"
Leela stepped forward to rub a shoulder, a move to earn a harsh pull-away and magmatic glare.
"Who the fuck do you think you are, acting like my pal? You asked for my last words, and you'll get them now… I resign, now get out."
Words of finality that coursed from his mouth and down his spine. She had the means to force him.
Even so, Leela's eye flicked in doubt. Perhaps she had taken her power dynamic a notch too far, let her position and knowledge over him go to her head. To have him as an outlet for her problems, while he juggled his own…
"You got it kid, just one condition. Boss gave me a week to make amends; threatened my job and licences if I didn't. We do this one last thing, pretend it's okay, and..."
An offer interrupted when she spotted her charge at the balcony, gulping every last drop in moments. Made to climb the bannister but only leaned against it instead, prompting a worst-fearing Leela to speed after him, shatter the window glass, and pin him down. His hateful glare again, as she stared into his eyes.
"Seriously, you're not gonna hear me out?"
"You think someone just yells 'That's a wrap!' and everything returns to normal? You think I'd just forget how it happened, even if I slapped a trowel of Miracle Cream over my face?" He cupped his hands. "Welcome to real life, where YOU know every last answer… Or don't you?"
"How do you expect me to answer that?"
"It's honest enough, deserves the same. To have such power in any other situation, I would've left you behind and taken the cream. Would've found other ways to clone it, become a human god full-time, and have never experienced my Hell again. Instead, I chose to repay your faith in kind."
Leela closed her eye, tempted to break wrists before those last words.
"Why wasn't I upfront, you may ask? I never had the confidence of knowing that duds wouldn't come through, that my scheme would even work. You had me cuffed and sentenced to death, when I finally knew."
"You know you only had to work by my side, to repay that faith. You never had to go that far."
"Oh bullshit! You NEVER treated me like a colleague, even then! Granted my choice was poor, but you damn well had better options to pull me up. But instead of having everyone reap the cream's benefits, you made me the villain, so you could have that power all to yourself."
"The hell would you know about evil? You mean Mom nor our Professor educated you enough?"
"Fine, I'll swap some letters then… My choices were the 'veil', that I won't deny, but I made them to 'live.' Live to contribute, to repay you, to leave my legacy behind. But you, through your choices, were more 'vile' than them both. And you have the fucking NERVE to lecture me about evil."
"Damn it kid, listen to me!" Leela restrained him again. "You're right, and I can't take such deeds back. But I can't promise to change if you're going to plummet over your balcony!"
"Even as a Stupid Ages simpleton, don't you DARE insult my intelligence! Far as I'm concerned, I'm done figuring you out. I'm done having my ears ripped off. I'm done with you. So help me, I'd sooner trust Zoidberg's word over yours…"
"You can't be serious. He kicked this all off, by screwing everything he had to do with you."
"Yes, that he did. He also tore the place apart to bring me back. Can you say the same?"
Confirmed testimonies aside, Leela chose to let go, knowing she couldn't argue anymore. How could she against her novel of actions, using his blood, snot and tears as ink?
"Thomas, please… Won't you let me reach out?"
Mayfield sat up, palms over his face: "For the near-thousand years and thousands of miles, I thought I had it in me to make a new life. But despite the change of characters, it's been the same story, the same misery…"
Saw a swirling void where Leela stood, one that roared closer to suck him straight in.
"Who was I to think I'd ever deserve a second chance, that I'd belong here in time?"
Leela soon saw the tears; not the terrified bawls of one-sided fights, nor happy cries for going beyond their skies. Just the tired wetness of losing everything. Had cried those herself, even remembered in early days of just paying her quarter and shutting the booth.
As they stood together, Mayfield remembered the first day again, feeling the chilly wind surge through the lounge. Knew there'd be no use, even if the situations were reversed.
"Oh Leela, now that my accounts are settled, could I give you a parting gift? A little personal advice?"
Leela gave a puzzled stare before she got up close. That was when he made his move…
"Don't reach out to save others, especially if they never asked. One way or another, you'll fail anyway…"
The moment those words left his lips, he began to bomb her with headbutts, the pain of a hundred career chips searing in his skull. Leela didn't even react at first, but once she saw both his clothes and the floor caked in blood, it became very clear.
After a meeting of minds, he'd been using hers to destroy his own.
A chilling laugh, those two middle fingers, and a final headbutt to go had dropped him dead at her feet, brain matter all over the place. On her end, Leela could only stuff a fist and scream, before she got to her knees and began to play emergency doctor.