No bandit had been eager or stupid enough to bother 'Admiral' and his scout-like ship; it'd be a routine ride through wormholes and past planets before he'd wake the kid, prop him in his seat and buckle him in tight.
Pained protests aplenty; between adrenaline, aggressive will or anomalous turns of luck, he wasn't sure what kept him alive. But the message had never been clearer; all because of a curiosity or dare, he could be snuffed out in virtual seconds if so deemed.
Still, it wasn't all lose-lose; right-hand man now had hope, and he was still fully intact.
"Hey Admiral, could I ask you about something?"
"What is it?" he grunted.
"If the stories are true, and I don't doubt my source, you've known and befriended Bender since you first arrived in this world. I personally never knew why, but I admired how you fought together, against everything. Yet for one set of stacked odds out of a hundred, he turned tail & ran. Where do you think he might've gone?"
"Talking and knowing Bender, try ninety-nine sets Tom. Always looked out for number one, spat on the VERY distant seconds. My regret that I didn't ditch his tin ass ages ago. That said, I daresay he'd have gone back to his adopted homeworld, if only since they'd take him back by default."
"Gotcha, thanks. How far away are we?"
"Five minutes as we speak, setting Auto-Pilot up now. Almost 5pm, at least according to my clock."
"Sounds like Planet Express and an end-of-day meeting. Well, that's a relief."
"Will be for needing prompt response… Now I'm getting my 'proof', so hold still."
A clutch of the arm, and a yell of pain: "Whoa, whoa, wait a sec! I heard about 'body disposal', but you gotta take a limb too?"
Got himself a proper grip: "You told me yourself you were prepared to do whatever. He'll want something for flying out all this way, and an arm would suffice. I don't have time to argue this, Tom."
"There has to be…"
A voice and face of venom: "Would you rather the doctors reassemble you from scratch? Archbury knows my ship in & out, any serious gaps and we're both screwed. You've only seen his mercy, so one last time, HOLD STILL!"
The Brooklyn brawler heard no other begs or pleas as he gripped Mayfield's right hand and got to pulling. Timed it to the minute; by the time he landed, opened the doors and made his wish, the crew had gathered in goodbye, ready to go its separate ways. Witnesses all, to the screams, squelches and splits.
Even by company standards, it was perhaps the worst Monday in a while.
They all began to dial 911 in pre-emptive shock, as 'Admiral' left just a gushing stump and a gasping delivery boy in his wake. Grabbed the towel to staunch the wound, before shoving him out with an obsidian boot into his chest. A splay out on concrete, his naked self in spasms, before he swirled his cape and pointed to them all.
"Keep bothering the Gods, and you'll be lucky if here's what's left of you. Don't make us come back."
Sliding that mysterious box out the craft as well, he soon broke past the orange skies, and into the stars as Leela began to yell out.
"Hey asshole, you can't harm Thomas like that… That's my job!"
Scolded herself a bit, before she wasted no time putting her laser to use. Her attempt to cauterise wounds, against further screams as her colleagues just talked over each other. The responders arrived minutes after; stretching him to the back as he jerked his head towards the box, mumbling over and over.
Couldn't do much more for again going into stasis, but as Leela and Amy climbed in, box in tow, soon they were sent rushing and weaving in traffic towards Taco Bellevue. Little more than road-killed rookie, from where they'd been sitting.
Time became a blur after Mayfield had been stretched through green plastic doors and wheeled right into ER. Eventually, upon meeting staff, the two ladies got cursory scans and prognoses that could've resembled a snuff film or horror movie.
Grade 2 fractures—at best—from shoulder to foot, organ rupturings, and more. A survival chance of mere single digits, then a six-month coma recovery, THEN permanent disability. Best case scenario that could be told, one to have the crew hug each other in fear.
Bundled out so everyone could get to work, the ladies paced about the waiting room trying to create a plan. Regardless of numbers, outcomes, damage done and who did it, they knew his recovery had to be sped up. For such a message to be sent, the kid must've tried to gather some giant secrets.
Obvious tasks seemed to involve the repair and reconstruction of muscles & bones; courtesy of their secret stashes, they'd rub him down and let the doctors' sort out the major complications. It was the element of time to worry her—healing factors would've come to crawl for his being comatose.
Even for stitching his head up it took everyone a week, now it could've been anywhere between two weeks to two MONTHS before positive signs could be called. The Captain could only take a chair, hands clasping her face before tapping her knees.
"What I'd give to hop between universes… There'd be one to have him walking by next morning."
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Mail calls of rather messy scrawls had unveiled graphic letters as the days rolled by, warning that they'd personally 'correct' any further disruptions. Seeing what 'The Admiral' had done before, and now seeing his signature, the crew couldn't help but grow unnerved. Still, they needed their windows to help the rookie, mostly the square one to light up his face & room.
Amy would disguise herself as a doctor or nurse to open the window, and Leela would leap in upon a signal; unplug the stasis, slather the cream and re-plug in mere moments. Once done, she'd grab her co-pilot and leap to the street; a landing, run and prayer that no-one would be the wiser.
Every morning, after work and almost before midnight, while juggling deliveries, cargo bandits and angry letters. Letters to include the same pictures of once-paparazzi turned blood paste, and even video footage of Mayfield's experience in the chamber, not that they could tell for the frequent cuts and dangerous tone of narration.
One who knew where they worked, who had the successful history, and who grew tired of 'playing' with their food. Always finished on one question—how far would they fall to see justice done?
Had no-one else to help; Hermes' hands were full for keeping the business afloat, while Professor would always claim that he'd be "too busy" to concern himself. Of course, the moment Leela caught him trying to send job ads, was the moment she could've elected leadership change.
But even for doctors getting suspicious of those minty scents, the crew had felt encouraged to continue treatment. A week or so had given them fleeting periods of consciousness, ones to freak-out and almost make patients of the staff themselves as his skin suddenly became Diamondium.
The hospital could've thought of banning Planet Express altogether, but as they kept downgrading the work needed, they'd admit that their prognoses were growing better by the day. Internal bleeding no longer an issue, organs repaired and cleaned out of leaking acids, and crushed limbs on potential track for years-long salvage.
Though his vitals had steadied well in the days since, it still wasn't quick enough. Especially for Mayfield being moved out of ER and monitored, sometimes not by the doctors.
From time to time, disguised as flimsy excuses for 'family', they'd find 'Admiral' in the chair, sitting there seconds away from slaughtering him. For all they knew; they'd cream up and stand in between, he'd just shrug and get to his feet.
"Not like you or I will make a difference, he's a dead man anyway."
That did concern them, especially for fear that he'd be right.
From his perspective, he paid them no mind as he sat and stood among true family; both two and four legs, spending quality time either at home or out. Didn't matter for that sudden rub over his skin, nor for the hours spent on them reaching out. He had made his choice, and it didn't involve them.
Cared nothing for their constant fights against his field of dreams, when each wheat stalk meant a desire of answers, family or safety. If those garbling blob-like schmucks just wanted to coerce him back, when he waited years for this moment, he'd sooner leave them to drown in that ocean.
Towards the new month though, he saw their forms grow into better focus, and recognised one of them to enjoy a chat. Soon the clear intent flashed in her only eye, as she sat him down, rubbed his knee, and broke the news.
"Listen, I know this'll break your heart, but they're just ghosts, fond memories well outside the here and now. I can't promise that your future will brighten, nor truly guarantee that you'll see everyone again. But I've seen how far you've soared, and I know there's no better tribute to pay. Please come back, so you can keep the tribute alive."
"I'm so scared, Captain. Even for the good I've tried to do, I've only been ripped apart out there."
"We're both in that boat, kid. And while I've sailed such shores solo before… Truth is, good crew at my back's always welcome."
It took him a little thinking, but giving a pat on the shoulder, he nodded and left for the family. Much as he wanted it to be, his tour of duty wasn't done. Much as the dessert of such backyard sports stood out, his plate had plenty more to polish off yet.
"Sorry guys… I think I'll be needed elsewhere for a while."
His mum grabbed his arm: "You have to go? But why? After all these years, we never had a chance to catch up, share our stories… Tell you what happened."
"Sorry Ma, but much as I've loved and cherished each precious second here, this has all been fantasy. If I keep hiding in here, I'll never represent us out there. Lord knows I've disgraced you enough."
As Mum let go, Dad clapped a shoulder: "Disgrace us? Back in long-gone days I'd agree, but now? I've never been more proud to call you my son… Go do what you must do, and if you ever need a shoulder, a heart-to-heart or our brains to pick, you know where we'll be. Alright, mate?"
A big hug almost in tears: "Thanks Dad… Right here, I hope?"
"You bet your last dollar on it."
"Deal. For the rest of you, you've been the best family a kid could wish for. Thanks so much, and see you on the other side, huh?"
For the kisses that flowed, the hugs that gripped, and the final pats of love, he soon found a ginormous, deafening rip that had begun to open. A pleasant warmth upon touch, over the warping hellfire he expected.
"Huh, maybe this won't be so bad after all."
After a few paces back, he took a run to leap into the void. One to send him flipping and floating past waves and thunderbolts of every imaginable colour, as if he'd been warping through the very core of Spectrus-19. A brilliant experience, that soon turned all-white, cut to a pitch black, then began to focus into a blobby, gross mess of colours…
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A window to offer glimpses of fields, and blinding sunshine in his eyes. A set of large green curtains pulled back, surrounded by white-washed asylum walls. A struggle to move all but his head, as he found himself rolling in a body-cast, waving a stump.
Unable to reach for his button, the small child to plead for Mum and Dad had begun to scream out, wails to send one peeved nurse, in huffs & puffs, to his side. Even for wearing her hair down, something about her seemed familiar…
"Excuse me, do you mind not interrupting my lunch break?"
"You're kidding me, right Miss? Apologies if I sound rude, but screw your lunch break and get your selfish arse together!"
"Mr Mayfield, need I remind you that I WON'T tolerate words like those, and I'll have you tossed out if it keeps up?"
Despite a muffled voice, the accent stuck out. Not that he paid it much mind.
"No need, but for how much I want to rip this place apart now, I'm surprised I wasn't worse. So which crazy asylum is this, and what's going on?"
"You're in Taco Bellevue, and you tell us! For the company you've attracted, to our doctors' fright to operate on you, you've been a magnet for trouble ever since you arrived."
"What in the absolute hell are you talking about?"
"So you can understand… For those freak friends of yours and some generous miracles, you've recovered impossibly beyond even our best-case scenarios."
Mayfield's face flexed; seeing her read a script, and feeling his synapses begin to trigger: "Miracles? Freak friends? Generous?"
It was then he whispered his shares of "thank-yous" and prayers, before he looked back to the nurse, narrowed his eyes and flared his nostrils.
"Those 'freak friends' are whom I'd consider family, and you'll do well to never disrespect them again. Hell, especially for making your job easier. That said nurse, I guess I'd better get the bad news while I'm here."
A tinge on their face, before a refocus: "Smee, er, easier my ass, and in no uncertain terms, you're gonna be on the invalid list. You're broken beyond anything we can do in the short-term, unbelievable progress or no."
He thudded his head on the pillow: "Man, if I could move my other bloody limb… Is there any way around this situation?"
"Could try our limb-growing technology, but two drawbacks. One, you'll be a virtual training dummy for several months, and two, you'll be broke for the rest of your life if your insurance doesn't cover it."
In his eyes, a desire to hit something: "Damn you Professor!"
Every corner cut, ship repair forsaken, tool left to collapse… On encounter & welcome, he'd been warned how cheap his big boss was, even from his own wrinkled old mouth. Despite the money they all made, he had never bothered to upgrade their cover.
"I can't have anyone care for me like a child now, not after all I've done to man up!"
"You'd better get used to the idea, pal. Whatever the hell you went through, just be grateful that you're alive."
"Grateful? The fuck am I gonna do now? Ohhhh, this sucks!"
"Language Thomas! Oh, since you're up, I should inform you that we've held your things in storage until your discharge, including that strange box. Maybe if you could call your 'family' they could grab it for you."
"Very funny, now could you quit the cruel jokes and call them, please?"
"Last thing I want in my life's those freaks, so forget it. Now if that's all, I'm going to have lunch. Sigma beta, see ya later."
Could've sounded like a sorority, like college education, but Mayfield had been too busy spitting a river of curses to notice. Wasn't like he had any control over the situation, so what did he do to be denied?
Got his answer when a sudden whoosh rushed through his suddenly open window; none other than Leela who leapt through, signalled the nurse in, and quietly locked the door behind them. A flicker of eyes and struggle against casts, before he felt his bed bend forward.
Before him stood his Captain, and her co-pilot, having just stripped away the nurse outfit.
"I don't believe it… Thomas, you're alive!"
"If you could call it that, Leela. But what a pair of faces to wake up to."
Just as well his breath had them scurry back, for their hugs had left him in cries of "ow, ow, OWWWW!" Course, such a head tilt soon turned to worry; for how he'd brush and floss, he dreaded to think how long he hadn't done so.
Eager to avoid the Zoidberg zone, Leela and Amy sat on the bed's far edges, soft hand each on his foot.
"So how are you feeling?"
"You honestly have to ask, Amy? Couldn't leave well enough alone, now I lay here, again, seeing my whole world snatched away. To be caught in another future; again useless, yet alive."
"Hey, hey, don't be like that!" Leela scolded with a point. "Most wrote you off as gone; I even caught Professor trying to mail job adverts. Tell the truth kid, we wouldn't have bothered if you weren't worth the effort."
"Yeah, guess you're right. So what's the bad news, far as how long I've slept?"
"Ooh damn, given the gala date to now… I'd say it's been close to a month."
"WHAT?!" he yelled, rolling about helpless. "Son-of-a-bitch, has anything happened since?"
"For all that could've happened, I've been thanking the heavens that it hasn't." Amy breathed.
"Aside from Zapp's teddy bears, heart candies and other 'sympathy' gifts," Leela began, "we got some rather nasty threats through the mail. Dead paparazzi pictures and torture footage, together with a voice of sheer malice. Once or twice, we even had to face the guard who ripped your arm off."
"The Admiral, huh? To think if I didn't get through to him, I'd have been a dead man."
"You weren't that far off, Thomas!" Amy shook his foot, earning a grimace. "Brought you in first Monday, and got informed of a six-month coma, at BEST. So please, do tell, what the shmell happened?"
"Six months?!" Another rollicking that made things worse. "Dammit, ow… Well, if we're talking gala, then we're talking right after we went our ways. Archbury approached me during the night, moments after I found the 'very last' Peruvian Spider-Fly. No creepier crawly I'd known, but as I'm excusing myself, I get this awful, sudden urge to point me Percy, to let all that alcohol fly."
Leela palmed her cheek, "Oh, I don't like where this is going…"
"I did so, no problem, but in my rush for relief I forgot to secure the door. It opens up, there's 'Admiral' prowling behind, and I get my lights blown out. When I woke up, found myself bound in steel cables, strapped in…"
Amy almost fell to the floor: "So that chamber footage sent to us…"
"Me all along. And if the gala, auction and special guests didn't clue you in… Archbury's been The Zookeeper in plain sight. Though 'Admiral' committed the deeds, that balloon-bellied bastard gave the orders."
"Gods-dammit!" Leela accidentally slapped a leg instead of the bed, leaving Mayfield to yell. "He already won our war, and yet that snake still has to slither in. So how'd he know about you, and about us?"
"Again, Professor being a tight-arse, and for—rightfully—forcing me to go. For his Netsuits, he connected me to public servers; all Zookeeper had to do was log in. As he tracked my activities, he made the connections through friends, newspapers and market visits. Sent the tickets to lure me in; if I said no, I'd have denied you all."
No words exchanged, as all began to realise just who they'd been fighting.
"As for 'Admiral' though, I wouldn't be too harsh on him."
"A relief"—Leela chuckled—"that your sarcasm's in good health."
"We shall see in a sec… Find my locker and grab his mystery box. I'll deal the details once you're back."
Leela sped out the room; Mayfield and Amy couldn't talk about stuff n' junk for long before she returned without incident, just a few eye blinks later.
"So Leela, you remember my theory about 'The Admiral', right?"
"The one I invited you over for? Of course."
"Bet my money and life that 'Admiral' was, shall we say, a former Captain."
"This again, Thomas? Fry's gone, Fry's dead, and he has been since beyond last year. Can't you just drop it?"
It was then that Amy, sensing a need for private discussion, politely excused herself to actually get some lunch.
"Can't do much of anything for the discovery, so please do me that kindness and listen. Before he beat me to make my clan dizzy, he dumped me in his quarters and tried to rest. I struggle to sleep, only to hear crying. His crying, as he held a picture of you all in his hands."
"Is that so? And this box, what have you got for me?"
"Proof beyond reasonable doubt. If I'm lucky, anyway. Crossing fingers, there'll be mementos to confirm my theory for good. Sure hope it'll be worth it."
Taking a deep breath as she shifted about the bed, Leela prised the lid off to find a stylised 'CY' necklace, a lock of his ginger hair, never-before-seen photos of them fighting crime, and even a bunch of newspaper clippings. Dead silence, until she just covered her face.
"Is something the matter?"
"All this doesn't support my 'Fry's dead' theory, but it doesn't disprove it either. Your effort's gone above and beyond, but one could argue that this might've been his final gift to us all."
Mayfield could only give a defeated groan, unsure what else to do, until Leela pulled out a rectangular device of sorts.
"What in Baron Munchausen's name is this thing? Far as memories go, I sure don't recall it."
"Looks like a computer of some kind; whatever it is, looks like nothing of this world."
Twelve inches corner to corner, padded by foam, and featuring an inset camera of sorts, at least when Leela brought it close up. Only by proxy of time did Mayfield know about them, but between them both, they had no clue for the secrets that had been hidden behind its screen.