Fancying a late dinner at the Food-O-Mat, both Captain and charge had to beam bright grins as she grabbed a big serve of chicken salad, and he another classic childhood favourite—the chicken parma.
"Lass, did we kick ARSE out there?"
"Much as I agree kid, you're still not clear yet. Gonna have to grind it out next week."
"Oh suck in some helium! How 'bout in the here and now, we enjoy this bloody beaut thing we've got going?"
Before she grabbed a forkful of everything and chewed, she had to betray a quick titter & smile.
"Oh hell, you know what? Right now, I'd be lying if I said I wasn't. Always thought about quitting and starting fresh before, sure you could understand why."
"Even for our moment killers I'm sure. Just can't compare to yours, but that devil had quite the mouth on him. Though he and you two did help me come to grips with myself."
"Yeah, how's that?"
"Look, I can't deny that centuries of genetics will 'shrink' my chances, that I'll be denied from just that fact alone. But I'm sure there's one who'll appreciate the fisherman more than the tackle and bait."
"Okay kid, between us, that didn't make a damn bit of sense."
"Fine, I'll use your stories. Remember during those good days, when you'd accidentally rediscovered the city of Atlanta?"
"Oh yeah, do I ever? A sunken paradise of Southern mermaids, that even then struggled for tourists. And to think Central Bureaucracy made our licence mandatory, for me to fish boots all day… What about it?"
"My rod might be small, but it's mine, and maybe I'll catch my share of fish if I'm so inclined. Enough effort and motion, and I daresay it'll work just as well as those arrogant pro reelers… Or harpooning types."
A cheeky wink, before she caught on and reached to punch him in the arm.
"Oh, damn you!" she laughed. "Okay smartass, quick challenge, since we've still seen you peeking. If either Amy or myself were single, who'd you prefer to date?"
"Are we really going down there again? Why do you insist on asking this?"
"Come on, tell me! I promise it'll remain our secret."
"Ahhh, fine. On the spot, it'd be you. Even for the fear that you could beat me to death, you're everything I wish I could be, no miracles required. Fry knew a winner when he saw one, and I guess over time, I did too."
"You and your sugar-frosted words… Surprising to see you speak them lately."
"Most people I once knew turned such words into weed killer, after no-one helped to pull me from the dirt. Thought it'd all begin again after we first met, but touch wood"—he knocked the table—"it didn't."
"All those months ago I'd have said the same," Leela nodded. "So what would you think of Amy?"
"Oh, she's a beauty; rarely without a smile, gives me the odd butterflies, and can be quite capable herself. But besides the thought of THOSE Wongs as my in-laws, I've a gut feeling we just wouldn't last."
"Tell me about it. Well, you'll meet the right one, I'm sure…"
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A comfortable couple of miles to her apartment after dinner, as Leela and Mayfield pounded up the stairs.
It was no high-class housing that he could see, but he knew that it would do in a pinch. Olive-green walls, burgundy carpets, fingerprint scanners, and a mouldy prickling odour to remind him of old homes.
So this was Apartment 1I, where his own boss would rest.
Hurriedly stuffed his mouth; of all the rooms and all the apartments… What silenced him though was the total lack of furnishing inside; a solitary armchair, large TV, white-washed walls, and a single door to who-knew-where.
He'd go to gym more often just to escape, judging by first impressions.
"Geez Cap, don't know how you do it. For all the money you've made, must take a hell of a discipline to live like this."
"Can the formal crap, kid. And honestly, how would you spend that sudden windfall if you had it?"
"Errrr…"
"Exactly. Though I had been thinking of a new window or a few plants… What do you think?"
"Plants wouldn't hurt. Feel like I need a straitjacket just standing here."
"Imagine living here by yourself these past twelve months? Anyway, through that door and take a right."
Off-duty orders for the young charge, and once in her bedroom, a shiver in spotting the same window she first yelled out from. To think he'd be invited upon the bed, just a month later…
"Look kid, to tell you straight, you had me thinking about your remarks on Tuesday. Long as you're upfront with me, I'll do whatever's in my power to help. Are we clear on that?"
A relieved breath: "Loud and clear Leela, but be just a bit more specific."
"You told me you had a theory, that you wanted your evidence first. What theory are we talking?"
A small shift and uncomfortable frown: "Speak now if you insist I be silent, but just understand that I could open some sensitive wounds here."
"Just… break it to me slowly, okay?"
"Very well. Regarding that special bulletin, charity gala, and all that nonsense…"
"Right, I remember the laugh you gave me more than anything."
"My overtime searches since then were trying to discover who the 'Admiral' was. Doubt I've got my concrete proof as of tonight, but—"
He stared at his knees, started to twiddle his fingers.
"I saw the hair, the shoulders, the face shape. Since then, and since your stories, I've had this peculiar sensation that it involves your old crew."
"You mean to tell me—"
"Looks like no robot I've ever known."
A clap of hands over her eye, and quivers of dread for the possibilities: "Please, please stop right there Thomas. That's still a raw nerve to touch."
"Just say so and I will. I did warn you though."
"But he's been gone, and I'd wager dead, at least since last year now. How would his return be possible?"
"For the details I did pick up, I had to suspect a former identity of sorts. How else to explain that overblown collar, eyemask and makings of a cape? Didn't you mention something about being superheroes together?"
A clutch of air: "Just when I thought I moved on, I get roped back in."
"I'm only asking for clarity's sake. Photos would be great, if of course you're ready to share 'em."
"Alright, but you're going through the others too, so you can see for yourself."
Scrounging through her bedside drawers, she soon found her folder of 'Happy Memories', an album Mayfield never knew about, and from where she could give the first-hand accounts he was after.
First picture could've floored him from the start; there she sat as 'Abandoned Property', a baby among filthy bottles and discarded robot limbs without say in the matter. Second picture, as a young girl in thick glasses and braces, smiling by the front doors while two kids laughed and pointed. A smile that apparently Warden Vogel had to force, if rumours to obtain funds and keep the place running were true.
Heart choked his throat, though, upon the photos of 'senior prom'. Knew it'd been a special treat for aging out, but not where their cruellest prank would be played. Almost a scene-for-scene rendition of 'Carrie', lunch grease and all, as the horrid wail would be the last they heard of her.
Could only feel his face redden, for both rueing and rage, in understanding those initial assaults and suspicions. 100% convinced, especially once she showed her and Fry together.
Her head to his shoulder, a portrait shot by ochre-red studio walls. Wild flails on Luna Park roller coasters, if not screams, hollers and tight holds to each other. A goof-off at Monument Beach, as they held hands among the wonders of Fry's, and his, old world. At work by her spaceship, her smiling chin-cradled lay to his side as his cheeks flushed. And there was the endless places they kissed; Earthican grassy knolls, various planets, forbidden zones…
"You see Thomas, THAT was why I hated you stealing my cream before. For THAT was the friendship, love and kindness I had craved my entire life. For every high, for every low, and for every day, he'd be there for me, all except now… Do you understand?"
"To think you wore this and worse for so long." Mayfield sighed, tracing his burn scar for a point.
Though Mayfield hadn't been able to garner any definitive clues for all the flicking through, he could feel legitimately thankful for the journey… More so when she got to the middle, where the costumes caught and fixed his eye.
"Well, here was us as the hottest caped crusaders of the city… Or the only ones, really."
"Wow…"
Whatever inside thoughts he had in those showers, they were nothing to what laid inside. Sure had the poise and confidence for the job, her costume (or what he saw of it) looked the part, and did she ever have the feet to stomp down those crimes.
Might as well have been a kid in a candy store, to the point that even Leela had to snigger.
"Hey, hey, keep it in your pants pal. We'd have never entertained that back then."
Shaking and slapping his head, Mayfield apologised and refocused to find Bender, front and centre as Super King, and of course Fry, the 'Captain' decked out in a dazzling disco number that had him recall the tiny details…
"Say, there's something about the hair, eyemask, collar and cape… Might be onto something here, with a search or two…"
Unaware of whether Mayfield was mumbling to himself or sleeping, Leela put her album down and sidled as close as possible. A tiny spit in her hands, a little rub together, and a cracking thunderclap by the kid's face, one to send him skyrocketing off the bed.
"Gott im Himmel, you scared the hell out of me!"
"Oh good, at least you're alive. Seemed you'd been fading."
"Well I'm wide bloody awake now, thank you very much."
"Was gonna say, I did mention drinks and TV right? How ungracious of me. Come along, let's see what I got."
Into the kitchen, like his a simple affair save for the wealth of actual food. On the counter-top, a strange half-egg tube of nondescript glass, one to just shrug at as she let him scan inside her fridge.
Bottles of Derrier spring water, a couple of beers, a six-pack of Shiz sodas, a jug of water from the tap…
"Normally keep the beers and sodas for my friends, but this round's on me. Should still be fine, since she hasn't flashed any alarms at me yet."
Looking upon the Shiz and thinking of things much nastier than soda, Mayfield settled for a glass of water while Leela cracked open a beer. A small nod as she jumped into the recliner, flicked the big screen on, and began to kick her boots off.
For Mayfield, he could only stare in awe to the potential gates to heaven before him, least until he leant on the chair and caught a stench. All might've been an illusion, as he began to sniff around; no dead creature, bacteria-laden beer or fried circuits he could find.
Should've calmed down on the theatrics, for Leela broke her gaze and gave a sharp lecture.
"It's my feet, Thomas. Think I didn't notice? You won't be the last to tell me, got it?"
In place of words, he could only gag and sputter. Not just for being caught, but for thinking that even road-killed skunks were roses in comparison.
"You don't become Captain without obsessing over details. Tried everything, was always left disappointed. But perhaps for the best… Maybe I don't have to use my fists after all."
"Hell no, don't you dare! That's a visit to The Hague, never mind grounds for war. Just what the f—Ooh, a game show, I haven't seen one of these in ages."
Her satisfied smirk, as they both returned to the screen.
Late night showing of 'Who Dares to Be a Millionaire?' hosted by Morbo, and proof that his hatred of humans wasn't just a news act. Though to be fair, as contestants bombed out empty-handed, such disdain of face-palms, hammy yells or laughs at misfortune were well-earned.
Not a one would get the guaranteed $1,000 when the air raid siren sounded off, and perhaps, Mayfield had found a worse 'El Skunko' than his own boss's feet.
Thanking her for the invite, drink & entertainment, he hugged her goodbye and headed out the door, taking time to remember his first 'rest' before he made tracks.
Courtesy of those shares, he could now argue to having some solid foundations for his search. Perhaps in confirming a few new thoughts, maybe a more general body shape, he'd have been sure to have his answer.
But the minion to eye him had confirmed the unbelievable tales told, and the elusive elite to task him had now known his prey.
Together, they knew the lure to game him in. A lure to beg the question of how far Mayfield would go, to know the entire story.