(¯ˆ·.¸(¯ˆ·.¸(¯ˆ·.¸(¯ˆ·.¸ —Cookieville Orphanarium, sometime later…— ¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)
"Flown the Milky Way before lunch, our universe in a week… But here's the farthest from home."
Copping shivers through her shoulders, and taking time for a deep breath or four, would fight with every step through the hallway then into the gymnasium—not just against the floors, either. First stop as always to be the class portraits; of those frames to somehow defy the decay and stay nailed up, it took everything within her to not rip apart every face to remain intact.
"How was I to know how I'd be born? How was I to know of divine forces below, that they'd guarantee me the clean clothes and working water? Never spoke a damned word, not even showed themselves once…"
A sneer with a temptation to spit, before she half-spun toward her next stop; boards of pine, stained through with broth and spices, to elicit a smirk. The guaranteed fast track to friendship, those organisers would tell her—grab that select invite, to perform "just a favour", and she'd assert her worth among the athletes of their most prestigious event, achieve her hopes of having that circle.
For starters, just clean the eating grounds 'till they gleamed; easy enough on paper, only to confront the actual mess and realise it'd always been a royal screw-job. That over time and always one more favour, she never was intended to be 'qualified', much less included in anything.
However, as memories of muscles aching, of minds burnt out filled her head, it was again they'd come with tastes of satisfaction; not just being left alone in peace, not just discipline to ensure a job well done, but also the growth in strength physical and mental to soon guarantee such results in record time.
Catalysts to her Captaincy arguably, but back then, she had delighted in sneaking into premier events, earning landslide victories against those so-called sportsmen, and grinning while they acted like the sorest of losers.
"They fight off the shakes, sell their organs, sleep in cardboard… Wanna say they have my sympathies, but after our reunion? Don't even deserve my pity."
After a little time taken to reach out toward their Hall of Fame, reminisce on the graduation ceremonies, buttoning her black pilot's jacket, and returning salutes to the city's Mayor, she would then brush under the rotted signs of Building D, a certain surge coursing through as she took the first door on her left.
"Swore I'd never let that little girl crumble, no matter how hard her world got."
Untouched top bunk to give a wrinkle and a sigh, then would pay her mind toward the mahogany study desk she'd procure; every splinter a pounded fist, every crumb a taste of delicious yet mysterious support, every paper ball or lead stump to embrace study over pleas of going outside. Out here, only herself to count on, and not even the Warden to convince her otherwise.
As they always did, her reflections to finish after a quick blow and wiping of dust; attached mirror to reveal a woman she fought her entire life to evolve into… A Captain ready to fly and deliver no matter the mission, at any moment's notice, and perhaps a smile if earnt.
But just as she began heading back for work, the glass would betray a sudden motion, one to quicken her heart then raise it to her throat. With footsteps slow and thoughtful, could only sidle from desk to doorframe, hoping those creaky boards remained where she remembered them.
"Who could that be? Druggie out to scavenge, deadbeat hoping to squat, maniac trying to hide?"
Taking a breath as she took vantage, would detect the stranger without fuss—clean-shaven fellow, of rather fleshy build, in a typical white tee and denim jeans. No belief of being an actual worker—place to be abandoned long ago—and no fears of lethal threats had, even to find shovels and sledgehammers in hand; episodes of facing far worse, to cross her arms and take a casual lean.
"Little well fed and clothed to lurk 'round here, aren't ya?"
Chain reaction to come as a complete surprise; seemed the instant she spoke, a chill not unlike death would conquer their bones. Their shakiest of pivots before haunted eyes met her own, growing in width to almost match hers—moments after, a shriek to curdle her skin before they took off running.
"Whoa, crap, was it something I said?" she blurted out, giving chase. "Come on, wait up!"
That he'd leave his tools behind, had to be quite the incident; for each shoulder grab to be met with jerks to break free, or quite the rough shove, perhaps more so than first imagined. Regardless, couldn't ignore the fact that he seemed several dimes short of a dollar, so chose instead to let him get away, and arm herself with his mistake.
Soon and assured enough, her patrol through Building D's hallway to finish upon hearing mad chatter, the grip of panic upon the realisation of where exactly he left his "weapons."
"Good grief, can't believe I was THAT scary to someone. Maybe I oughta knock first? Nah, be far quicker to bust through… Heeeeee-yah!"
From a size-12 boot, her kick like a 12-gauge to send oak shrapnel in all directions; scans inside to find the bedroom virtually as she heard about, and that young man firmly on his ass, huddled up and pitching fits bordering on hysterics.
"Hey buddy, was just a simple question, only wanted to say hi. What the hell's the big idea losing your mind like that, having this heart attack?"
"We are NOT buddies, and like HELL you're here to say hello. Now get away from me!"
"Maybe it's escaped your notice, but you're the only one attacking me out of us both. So how 'bout you stop fixing for such a fight, before your life actually depends on it, hmm?"
"In case you've forgotten, and how convenient, IT DID!"
"Oh, is that right? Well since I can't tell who you are from here, guess I'm gonna need a closer look."
Almighty swings with the hammer to leave little more than woodchips in her wake; from huddled up to scooting back, screaming himself hoarse, could only watch on as they would hurry toward the window. Somehow a grave hunch to get, when he'd rise to his feet just paces shy of sharp edges.
"You mightn't be able to, but I can. And so help me Gods, there's no way I'm gonna let you have such pleasure again."
Knew there was no bluffing to see him turn with purpose, step back—surging impulse right then to advance and, in the instant of his hesitation, leap across and tackle him to the deck.
"Oh for God's sake, you'd rather split yourself in two over having a chat? What on Earth is wrong, what did I do?"
"Trust me to fail a promise the moment I make it. Well, figure it out Miss Holmes, or just hurry up and punch my ticket already…"
For taking a mount and facing no resistance, thought of actually fulfilling his wish, yet as she drew her four fingers into a fist, this time she'd really take a closer look, feel certain details begin to trigger.
"Wait a second, those five-finger hands, that waterbed body, your odd—oh total hell, NOW the madness makes sense," she'd grip her skull. "Are you seriously the same—"
"Why, yes I am that jerk who copped enough of your beatings—er, 'scuse me, help. Who'd ya think you were talkin' to?"
Was then he tried to escape by thrashing about, attempting a shove, aiming a strike—actually took around a minute to finally restrain the guy.
"Dammit kid, settle down! Listen, I get now why you wanted no part of me, and I'm so sorry for how out of line my welcome was. But this nonsense right now is going nowhere, and I doubt you can act as if you were blameless either."
"Declare me guilty, when I couldn't possibly have known I'd wake anybody up, never mind you? Settle down, when you'd virtually slaughter me over a scream for help? Talk about an absolute fuckin' nerve; go kiss the chasm I call my arse-crack, and shove your apology right up your own!"
"Excuse me? Besides meaning what I said, you better check your mouth. You're in NO position to spew such filth, treat me with such disrespect."
"And you don't deserve to expect anything else outta me. So you gonna do the honours already or what? Rather be where I deserve than here at all."
"End up in Hell either way, and only I can say it's a survivable concept, even one that can be escaped. So how 'bout we stay a while, maybe try to iron things out?"
Rose up and offered a hand to help this outsider do the same, but he to quickly slap it away, and turn his back in lying down upon a window bed. By all measures a big improvement—even to get flinches, a hint of evil eyes for sitting beside, there was a ray of hope of taking the option to heart.
"You wanna do us both a favour, love, and just—?"
"Love?" she'd scoff. "Let's nip that idea right now, shall we?"
"Just a term from home, don't get it twisted. Love don't live with me anymore, and damned sure won't come home for you."
"Gee my heart's so broken… Look kid, I'm just tryin' to wipe our slate clean, but if you're not gonna meet me halfway, how can I?"
"What makes you think I'd want to, or that I will, with the crazy bitch who'd almost murder me? Who'd stamp the full stop on my worst night, not just here and now, but the countless thousands that'd come before it?"
"Ohhh please, you can run that yap all ya like on having it rough, but that doesn't make bad days and worse nights exclusive to you."
"Oh yeah, yeah, I so totally agree with ya—nothin' like leaving an APARTMENT to rip my homeless arse to shreds. I'm no Oxford scholar, right, but I know hot garbage when I hear it."
Nostrils flaring, she to stand up, turn heels and point, "You have no idea of the dues I'd pay to earn that, nor how close I am to coming back here. As if this hellhole and I don't have enough history."
"Boohoo, cry me a river Harriet Hardluck. Frankly, were there any actual justice—and I've my doubts—you'd be rotting in jail."
"Okay, let's get this clear, so even you can understand. I never said I'd be your best friend, in fact I never believed we'd even meet again, but I'd also bet that you've got NO friends out here, NO-ONE in any rush to offer a hand. If you're so Hell-bent on rotting by yourself, then just say so and quit wasting my time."
After a little pause, this outsider to actually turn, sigh and face her, "Of course I need help, be a real bloody idiot to fantasise otherwise. But were our situations to be reversed, you'd be a liar to wanna hear me out, and you know it."
Finger to raise, then crook just as quick, "Fine, I'll give ya that one."
"What does it matter anyway? I can't believe things will get better, and I don't believe you'll be the difference."
"Used to say the same as a little girl, and nobody should think that. Besides, how can you know if you don't take a chance?"
Waited for a response, but never got another word; certain that the Professor would be wanting answers, she would pat his knee twice then hustle out the doorframe—couldn't help the helpless, were it so willed. However, would wait beside it once she got out of sight; sure enough, heard a voice call out within thirty seconds or so.
"Alright fine, no arguing with that. Really wish it weren't you, but not like I can be choosy either."
"For having heard worse, that's good enough for me. So, got a name besides kid, drunken moron or jerk?"
"Thomas Mayfield; mostly last, hardly first. Skill set? A white sheet. Booze buddies? Lucky to get the flies. The other deets? Equal parts arsehole, blow-in, complete disgrace, exemplary failure, grown headcase, insufferable joke, and latest made nobody of—"
"Okay, I get it, jeez! Lay off yourself a little while, will ya? Mine's Turanga Leela, Captain of an intergalactic delivery company, and equal parts ass-kicker and adventurer… Least, that's to share what I'm comfortable with."
"Who am I to probe any further? So, any openings out there, places to stay, you get the picture?"
"Well, since last year, we've opened two positions on our crew; Chief Sustenance Operator, or Cargo Transport Officer. My terms, no-one else's. Can't say I like your chances, personally, but can't say we're picky either—just play your cards right, and you can escape this dump and start doing better for yourself. What do you say?"
A hand out to hear of dusty wallets and same-day firings, before it'd get pumped with vigour; not long after, she to call a cab and wait out front with her prospect, tentative next stop to be HQ.
(¯ˆ·.¸(¯ˆ·.¸ (¯ˆ·.¸(¯ˆ·.¸(¯ˆ·.¸(¯ˆ·.¸ —…— ¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)
Tunnelling through the rich soil and rock, she had since grown to question that latest helping hand, and arguably quicker than to energise her morning coffee. Cementing that doubt, the crude inklings that such distrust was mutual, from the mumbles overheard to the kid's consistent clench of hands.
"Maatte, you must be MAD… Why the hell you ridin' with her? You think medicines today can wipe memories clean, ensure fresh starts? This was so stupid, a total mistake, she'll just maul ya into mincemeat to even—"
"Got something to say, Mayfield?"
A burst of stammers in response to close her free magazine and cast a stabbing glare—even a series of head-slaps to hesitate in stopping. Wasn't convinced of it being sensible, but seemed to be of help, as he'd return her gaze and take a few breaths after leaving that mass of red marks.
"Sorry sheila, just can't forgive a thing between us. Can't help but believe there's a catch too."
"For one, that's not my name. Two, what's done is done, so either dwell on it or deal with it. And three, catches nothing, it's not like I said that better starts would come easy."
"Term from home, or was anyway—frankly wasn't my wish to move here. Guess between back then and right now, just got so much adjusting to do. Regardless of what happens, I WILL pay it back, mark me on that."
"Listen kid, all I axe is that you find your feet, let's not look to complicate it further. Once we've made things right, can go our separate ways when, or if, you so decide."
"Fair deal, and thank you. I don't s'pose that while we're together, we'll find the answers we're after, right?"
"Can't tell you how long I've tried to do so… But hoping without hard work is to be foolish out here."
His return for the window, and hers to latest issues of in-house Nosy Enquirers, when the seeds of a devious plan started to germinate; in its conjuration, a fit of giggles to stifle over that morning's ink incident, and the personal payback now starting to take root.
"Excuse me cabbie, change of mind. Need a quick pit-stop at AO&T please."
"Ya kiddin' me lady? You couldn't say anything five minutes ago, before we left?"
"Yeah yeah yeah, just keep the meter running and shut up, okay?"
Protégé to glance at both but remain silent, as between their eventual surfacing and her rush from floor to floor, she would create herself quite the package, place it on the middle seat wrapped double-tight. Scents of ocean-fresh catches to get her thinking gears twisting, oblivious to the audible grumbles or pinched noses.
Minutes and considerable fares later, would sprint toward HQ eager to see justice served, only to realise her prospect was nowhere to be found. By no means her fault though to retrace steps and catch up; since exiting the cab, he to not move, in fact be found bent over backwards, jaw wholly unhinged. No idea what he was seeing, and doubtless no time to give a damn either.
"Hey, you tryin' to get a taste of genuine pigeon crap over there? Come on, move your ass!"
Didn't bother waiting as she'd take off again and duck into a distant alleyway, her bait hugged tight to her chest while her knuckles rapped across a certain metal lid. For hearing commotion inside, the slightest twists of a smile—in the forty-five minutes or so since that assault of gunk, Zoidberg to have come home, taking a break from doing nothing.
Almost right on cue, beneath gasps for air and several beads of sweat, her protégé would arrive just beside her.
"Took you long enough, damn. However, now that you're here, I oughta warn you—if your nose couldn't handle Cookieville, then nothing'll prepare it for what's next."
In truth, wasn't sure if she'd handle it either, to watch the lid carefully crack open and those spongy pink noodles sniff about through the gap.
"That stench, that mouth-watering stench…"
As their doctor, more by name only, continued coming out of his shell, an odour would be released not unlike an almighty whirlwind—though she'd stand her ground better than first believed, would look back to find it had absolutely levelled the kid, left him against a brick wall fighting to keep everything down.
"Awww, son-of-a-bitch, bastard's robbed all the graves of Rookwood, he has!"
Rolled her eye to imagine he had no idea, before the crab addressed her: "Who's so kind as to offer—oh no, it's you!"
Quicker than blinking he ducked back into his dumpster; wasn't going to waver though as again she slapped the metal.
"Oh relax crabcake, I just came by with lunch, that's all. Thinkin' it'll go quite a treat with some fresh-cut chips; maybe you'd like to share?"
Zoidberg to peek out, wave an offside welcome that he didn't get back, then home in on that package with a rather hungry look.
"Such an olive branch, but I don't think—"
"It's no trouble at all, trust me… Go ahead, breathe it in."
Couldn't hide any creases in her face once drool coated her hands, nor any lingers of dread as that Mohican fin would crown that pink exoskeleton. A familiar sight, a dangerous sight to keep a firm eye on, while that creature's nose virtually fondled the paper wrapping.
"A chance to awaken my inner critic! Now, let's see—we've got tuna, a classic inside rolls or by itself, so I've heard. Also have night-crawlers, delicious snacks especially when juicy, and, wait a moment…" Deep long snort, to then break out into a joyous squeal. "Is that bottlenose dolphin, and it's oozing fresh?"
Bottles, cardboard and detritus to scatter as he leapt out of his home, with clapping claws and quite the spring in his scuttle.
"Why, I would be delighted to share, Miss Leela. Cannot thank—"
"Ah ah ah," she'd wag a finger. "This peace offering goes both ways, bub; gimme another way to get inside HQ, and you've got a deal. Hell, I'll even throw in my absolute best efforts to tolerate you."
"A deal I can't refuse, my friend. I'll have you inside in two shakes of my claws; you can count on Johnny Zoidberg!"
Hand to cover a big grin as she'd watch the crab rush off, leaving behind a slick trail of drool; once Mayfield grabbed the lungfuls of fresh air he needed, relatively speaking, would grab his hand and start chasing that crab down. Had to stop once or twice over concerns of nausea, but it wasn't long before they'd reach Planet Express's back end, virtually a hop, skip and jump from the Hudson River.
From there, those metal walls to offer only whines and groans, as with a stabbing of pincers and a bestial roar, they'd be burst apart without effort. Leading her prospect inside, almost side-by-side for such thorough work, couldn't deny how clammy he'd turned as she tossed Zoidberg the package, almost as an afterthought.
"Y'know, I don't feel so hungry anymore. Here, go ahead, help yourself."
Getting to a comfortable distance, just had to stop and watch; caressing his newly-won buffet, that crustacean sucker had no idea what commotion was caused, and that Hermes, papers in hands as always, had been sent to discover who was responsible. Didn't take long afterward for a tiptoe and bellow to send that lunch into the air, freeze that creature solid.
"Of course 'de stupid crab's to blame, why else would I believe otherwise? 'Dis is comin' out of your pay!"
That moment right then to lose control and let slip a distinct cackle, as that crab's tears turned what remained of tuna and dolphin feasts into an anchovy one. In the struggle to regain a semblance of poise, didn't even notice the kid shaking his head, tongue subtly poked out over that whole episode.
"You gotta be kiddin' me… Okay, maybe my head's many shades of messed up, but how was that being a hero again?"
"A moment doesn't make the full story, you got it smartass? And you'd do well to keep that mouth real shut, when you can't even save yourself."
No response heard to turn her attention toward the ship, its co-pilot just beside one of their hover platforms. "Hey, did you calibrate the engines and polish the fins like I ordered you to?"
Gabbers heard to find Mayfield gawking again; was almost as if he hadn't looked up since he arrived.
"Well, bugger me with a pitchfork… THAT'S where you order your crew about?"
"That, and turn the keys to. What, did I look the type to clean floors for a living?"
"Lady, taken together, I've known ya for an hour, tops. And right now I'm none too keen for the knowledge."
"Oh Lord, do you do anything besides hold a grudge? Really startin' to get sick of—LOOK OUT!"
She to drop flat and he to shuffle away with a shout, as the Professor's huge chair came barrelling through; had she called out a second too late, he might've taken off their heads. With both their chests beginning to pound, they to approach as it span about and loomed over, Mayfield to be beside himself.
"What's the big idea you flamin' idiot? Why don't you watch—"
"Presenting Hubert J. Farnsworth"—she'd raise a hand in highlight—"THE boss of Planet Express… Poor unfortunate souls though we are, and perhaps lucky for us, very hard of hearing."
"Eh, wha? Who are you two, and why did we bother my nap?"
"Ugghh, for starters, I'm the lady in need of back surgery for carrying this company. As for this strangely silent fellow, he calls himself Mayfield, and he's after some work. How 'bout a fresh start on Monday?"
"Okay, what are you fuffing on about?"
"Don't tell me, you've no idea of all the TV ads we've taken out? Especially since…"
She to fight for words yet ultimately trail off, but even to get a quizzical 'Hmm?' beside her, it'd prove enough to have her boss pay attention.
"Oh yes, yes, of course. Ahhh, those poor sons-of-bit—but that's not important. Alright, what's he got that the others didn't, then?"
"Warm, fully intact body's gotta be a good start—not like I've known you to care about standards all of a sudden. Maybe once I can get him up to speed, he'll prove—"
"YOU teach him our trade?" he'd chortle, slapping an armrest. "I'm trying to train crewmen here, not housekeepers."
So casual a remark to really test her temper: "Is that so? You wanna tell your 'graduates' how good they had it under your guidance? Oh wait, I forgot, I'd clear every last one of their bodies off my ship!"
"Oh poodle-spit. You are my Captain, yes, but nobody knows Bessie better than I do."
"Scuse me mate, Farnsworth was it?"
"That's Professor to you, you little—"
"Call yourself whatever you like, but I just gotta ask… Why shouldn't I get her guidance when, supposing things go wrong, it's her arse over yours at that exact moment?"
"See, when even HE gets it, why argue any further?"
Couldn't help a sly curl of lips to hear her side taken, even to worry over potential dark clouds, elder fits of pique, only for sporadic grunts and a subtle tipping forward to quickly stop any gloating.
"Professor!"
"I'm awake, I'm not asleep, I—who are you two again?"
"I'm your Captain, Mayfield's the new guy. Let's not go through all the details again, please."
The cooling of jets to lower her boss to eye level, then offer a hand in welcome: "Can't say I've seen him around, but ah hell, I've said the same of everybody here. Welcome aboard Mayberry!"
"Glad as I can be to be here, I guess."
"So am I, but just so we're clear, we're going to put you under Probation first."
"Whatever works, but can you be exact on what to expect?"
"You'll be required to prove yourself first, before we allow you on our actual payroll."
Knew her boss had a habit of confessing out loud, and couldn't help but cringe to hear that particular number—needless to say, it wasn't one to please her latest crew.
"Was that some kind of joke? The hell do you mean by that?"
"We pay you what you're worth, Satan forbid you can figure out the rest. I don't stay in business out of generosity, you know."
"I'd be a fool to expect that from you, or from anyone, but I won't stand for being screwed from the jump either. What else is that tight arse of yours clenchin' for, old bloke?"
"That's none of your business, shut up. Plenty of other suck—er, eager heroes out there to take your place, so I'll have no problem calling the city's finest to escort you out. One more word, in fact, and I'll have them stuff you in the cannons and shot right into the Sun. Are we clear?"
Thought of stepping in between to see the kid's deep furrows and balled fists, but when he began to take a few breaths, she'd step aside with hints of hesitation.
"Alright, fine, I'll give your game a go. But let's make one critical condition VERY clear."
"And that would be what, Maybanks? Need I remind you that you're in no position to negotiate?"
"No worries, 'cause this is non-negotiable. You want me working for ya, then you'll let me live under this roof for nothing. Deal?"
"Oh, you believe I'm made of money do you? How 'bout you be grateful for my offer instead?"
"Grateful, without a damn thing to my name? No food or water, no gas or power, no good shelter, and no dollars either? If you wanna treat me little better than dirt, don't you dare expect this huddled mass to help turn your doors golden. You got that?"
Would hear another thud of the armrests, "Oh foo, fine, if it'll stop the whining! Now quit disturbing my nap, both of you."
The jets to burn again and away out of sight; would watch for a second before she'd beckon her latest crew forward, a frown of sympathy to share.
"Tells you the whoolle story, doesn't it?"
"Of every book there was to open, just had to be this one… How do you even endure that arsehole?"
"Imagination's a wonderful thing, and I'm saying no more," she'd shush with a coy smile. "Don't be too down though, just work hard and follow my orders, and I promise you'll be fine."
"Your idea of fine's not one I agree with but, here we are anyway. No point in backing out, I'd reckon."
"Exactly, and besides, you need someone who takes no crap instead of talks it. Especially when scars for life can come in only a second. So long as all that's clear, you'll have my blessing, hundred percent."
"Uhhh, I believe so. Anyway, what's expected of me now, would you say?"
"For you to be rested, and ready at that green desk above, by noon, no excuses. Call it an abrupt change of plans, but we've an entire orientation to cover this weekend."
Those words to wave him back to Cookieville as she returned to her ship; couldn't hold his hand forever, and if he couldn't figure out such a simple order, no doubt he'd drift through the abyss like the rest of them.