(¯ˆ·.¸(¯ˆ·.¸(¯ˆ·.¸(¯ˆ·.¸(¯ˆ·.¸(¯ˆ·.¸ —Planet Express HQ…— ¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)
Not for nothing, never did imagine carrying possessions through THE boroughs, THE metropolis he'd so often see glamorised on screen, indeed didn't believe that glorified though it sounded, he'd be taking the role of a crew chef or deliveryman, courtesy of sincere offers of help.
Half of it to involve hopes of not having to; seemed a foregone conclusion, a deserved one, that he'd die in squalor if not on the streets. Other half to involve not wanting to; only one person to ever fancy calling Captain, and would rather wax his best buds beneath than refer to that black widow as one.
Ten thousand miles and almost a thousand years, and among all that knowledge to absorb since, odours beyond any binge conceivable; regarding their source, no greater nightmare fuel to come to terms with. Not just a colleague by way of rebuke—one he'd sell down the Hudson the second he got here—but an alien creature of unsound mind, destructive strength, and neither friend nor belonging to lose.
But colder than the steel that'd build his shelter, as if the laboratory and madness in mind weren't enough, a man most eager for any excuse to ensure his ultimate suntan… The boss of bosses, he'd sooner be known by.
"Man, you're neck-deep in it now, mate. And of course, just had to piss off everyone you met."
Might've misjudged those miles to get back, for by the time he'd escape the evening breeze, crossing every toe and finger that 'Johnny' wouldn't stir, came to almost collapse upon the linoleum while searching for places to sleep. Ultimately, had to lay his spine underneath the ship, with only his outfits as a pillow.
"Not even a mattress nor some sheets, gee, bet that'd bite into the ol' pension fund. What cruel joke, crueller punchline, could I know of?'"
Better yet, any respite to prove short-lived, when a sequence of babyish babbles would gradually rise in volume, in time enough to clench his teeth and cover his ears in addition to tossing and turning.
"For the love of—can't anybody take the hint and take a hike? Friggin' pains in the—"
Choice of words to really regret when, from nowhere, a white-hot burn sprang him up with a scream; sourced from his own flesh, a well-done rump roast. Daring not to think of the accidental turn he could've had, would lay eyes upon a familiar presence—for the vaguest of reasons, they'd begin to slit, as if the visit was quite unwelcome.
"Are you for fu—what's the big idea, ya three-eyed turd?"
"Better than dropping one in your hand to get your attention. Address me that way again, and I might do so anyway—guarantee it'll hurt worse."
"Good luck sport, when there's a tube of superglue up there. After that stunt, don't you dare expect an audience right now."
"By all means, it'd amuse me to watch you enforce those words… Please, feel welcome to do so."
For finding it very tender to sit, and for not wanting to risk any further agony, would just wave a hand and remain silent.
"Wise decision, child—feared otherwise for a moment. So, might I congratulate you, for what I must say looks to be a great cause of celebration?"
"Puh, least in the place I once had, could actually use the bed or my armchair. Y'know, keep my spine in one piece."
"Heaven's sake, seriously? Here you are, still acting as though you've nothing to live for, nor strive toward. Truly beggar my belief at times."
"Damn right I don't—you think that'll change for having these certifiable psychopaths call my shots? We've nothing to drop confetti for, and there's nothing I care to discuss. We're done here."
"You will be, child, to keep biting hands, imply you're being cheated, and act as though you deserve better without any effort. And so we're clear, we're done when I say so."
"Okay, for starters, spare me the child crap. I'm a grown man, one whose whole life—"
"Was defined by quitting work, getting blackout drunk, and bathing in vomit? Not always in that order, I might add?"
"Oh, and I s'pose there never was a valid reason? I'd just continue to spiral by my own volition, 'cause everything in life was bonzer?"
"Well, I, er—"
A rare pause to get a chance to breathe, if only to hide any satisfaction however minor was had.
"Who am I kiddin', why talk to you? I've obviously no means to prove it, but I'd lay money down that you twisted little freaks would create my recent misery, all so you could 'rescue me' and play pretend heroes."
Quite the hiss to send him hurtling back, especially to notice fangs the size of spear tips.
"After all our troubles to do exactly that, WITHOUT expectation, that's the thanks we deserve? To be accused of harming the innocent? Neither I nor my brethren will stand for that, so I'd suggest you apologise."
"Hey, last thing I'd call myself is innocent. But good grief, was just an opinion, sorry you're so touchy."
Was about to grab a rest and ignore the critter, until a hard lump would crack him square on the spine—knob of metal or solid wood, couldn't say, but a force to nonetheless bellow up a storm, all the while clutching that now tender spot.
"Let that make it clear, that I won't tolerate such assassinations on our characters again."
Might've given every last thing, in that moment, to reach over and yank out that eyestalk; instead had to settle for facing the critter, and either hope he had undiscovered telekinesis, or that no further harm would come for getting any spiels over with.
"To imagine I'd be told of a man who'd champion service for others, fought for the less fortunate, only to wind up crossing paths with you. Perhaps I'm young and naïve for my kind, but wouldn't you rather have this rematch and crew in your corner, as opposed to a tombstone that nobody'd remember nor mourn?"
"Who are you to judge that the crew I had—my Captain, their Number One, and Lieutenant to my Private—weren't good enough?" Threat of tears to sting the eyes, which he'd blink away: "If you think I'm gonna accept this bunch of burdens, especially that one-eyed nutcase, I've got news—"
"It's not the mistakes that matter, it's the making up after they're made. And judging by her genuine efforts up to this point, I'd say no better time than now to meet her halfway."
"What, so she can be within closing distance when nothing works out for her? Yes, bodies do heal real nice out here, but that doesn't mean the head nor its memories follow suit."
"That actually reminds me, I'd also be told of a man who never had it easy with others, yet never wavered in wishing to give back. Then, as with several I've known, you'd forsake them all for money."
"Only when plans of building a local library didn't 'satisfy the budget', got scrapped. Total bunch of bullcrap, of course, once the salary vote came in. As for why, was simple; pink, blue, red, gold or green, those notes got me what I'd want or need, and never judged me no matter the choice. Never a book I've known to do the same, either.
"But outside my oldest house, over problems I'd neither grasp nor control, I'd end up cast out, but not before kids of any age would humiliate, harass, or outright hurt me. Once that was over, I'd just turn invisible whenever I held a hand out, even after giving whatever time or power I had to help. Pretty clear nobody could care less, so why should I pay 'em that courtesy?"
"So you'd already reach that misanthropic conclusion, and yet you still went into public service?"
"Took any warm body, if we're telling the truth. First I needed experience, then to keep rooves over my head, keep important things running."
"And that's the life you wanted to come back to? Sat in some lukewarm glow of mediocrity, with vices and solitude your only company?"
"It was MY life you stole off me, you little—"
Gone were any remnants of restraint as he'd lunge out, ready to belt that critter beyond the stars. Halting him quick however, the same laser eye to scorch him, now sizzling the ground with a rather sardonic grin to accompany it.
"In scores of your lifetimes, I've watched galaxies form, fought wars for eons, and noted the trillions of lives lost to them. Insist with such idiocy if you must, but I'll find it no pity to put another one down."
"That's it, that must be it, I'm 100 percent a hostage. Held against my will for some supposed greater purpose, by a damned gremlin."
Protests to go unheard, yet no sudden moves made—anything for a way to fight back, to stare critters down.
"Much as you might believe otherwise, we are neither kidnappers nor enemies—do you know why we rescued you?"
"Oh, do enlighten me, please, this oughta be a delight."
"We DON'T take lightly who knows of our presence—in your case, was because we've concrete evidence that you can't be bet against. I myself bear receipts perpetual of Pizza Bagels, for believing otherwise. Since you're now here, all we axe for is that you embrace this universe, the potential we know you possess."
Nowhere near the welcome changes he wanted, being forced to navigate these fresh grounds, but any acid up his throat to be assuaged by a certain belief—no guarantee of getting a better deal, but no contest between that and guaranteed death.
"In return, we just might grant rewards that your kind has warred over, since Gods became concepts… Can you, my friend?"
An offer of a pinky, and tiny smile to pass off, "First, we're not friends, let's get that straight. Second, can't argue I've been quite a sarky bastard—if you're still keen on me, then let's plant these seeds and reap the streets and beyond, starting today."
One approving nod and flash of light later, was left to blink and wonder why he hadn't gotten to sleep yet—fogginess to cloud a somehow fuller mind, to mutter about what'd transpire, as if there wasn't enough circling his head already.
(¯ˆ·.¸(¯ˆ·.¸(¯ˆ·.¸(¯ˆ·.¸(¯ˆ·.¸(¯ˆ·.¸ —…— ¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)
"Talk about havin' Buckley's chance of a good night's sleep. Rather be among the bedsprings, trying to avoid pokes in the—"
"So here's Master's latest evildoer to keep eyes on… Made shorter work of far superior villains; should be amusing to watch this one try to survive."
No Alaskan winter—having known in nicer times—to outdo the chill he'd get then, not just for the old gigs and lost worlds flashing back again, but for finding no weapon against that ascendant threat either.
Bounding up with a panting start, could only jerk from side to side, then back over both shoulders; twice if not thrice, yet no sign of anything except the dawning of a brand new day.
"Masters? Superior villains? Let me survive? Ohhh, this time trip really just gets better and better."
Cracks in the bones upon a stretch to cut thoughts short, to precede a virtual sleepwalk toward the office cooler. When, how or especially why this animosity came to pass, hadn't a clue—some bad guy to struggle grabbing a cup, enough to prompt that cooler into pouring its own, and send it crashing into his face.
"Agghh, oh for the love of—is nothing safe from our robot overlords?"
"Spare me, I ain't the type to like being fondled all over."
Turning his T-shirt into an impromptu towel, was with curled lips that he'd ask for directions to a decent breakfast—lift in the lobby, supposedly, to reach the kitchen, except every door had been locked tight.
"For security purposes, sure ya get it."
"Way to waste both our time. Don't s'pose our old coot's gonna board up the gaping big hole as well, huh?"
"Do I look like I've got the answers, bub? And more to the point, do I sound like I care? You wanna eat, work it out yerself."
His favourite finger, and a "Fine then!", before he'd get out the hole and walk down West 57th; virtually outside HQ's doorstep, a closed pizzeria to come across. Murmurs in passing of foreign, yet familiar accents to take a gander; speakers to be obscured under tables, scrubbing the floors 'til he almost saw his reflection.
"Work hard and you'll win, I'd be told, all the while those shit-kickers kept callin' me. A wisdom I'd once believe, until overtimes became mandatory, and protesters got written up."
But any desire to say "G'day" and grab a slice, once they stood and started arguing, would virtually die upon their reveal. Through a millennium of temporal purgatory, it seemed that the stories of 'villaggios', of those ancestral Italians, had gained quite a galactic appeal; in aprons or jeans caked with dirt, creatures akin to cockroaches, similar to HIS size.
"Come on, fourth alien in two days?" would dart out of there. "What, must I catch 'em all or something?"
Never the three would meet, both promise and prayer, before crossng the Dumbbell Club with a choice pox or two, in easy time entering the heart of Manhattan where one location took his breath away, enough to put on hold his quest for a quick bite.
"Mom's Friendly Robot Company, huh? My goodness, must have quite the monopoly in her mitts."
Place to scrape the stars, just couldn't imagine otherwise, and once the Sun had properly risen, and he'd take a step back or twenty, would witness those headquarters begin to gleam from the ground up. From history's dust, might've raised King Midas himself to be her architect.
"And to think the bastard I'm with woulda paid me in shekels, if he could get away with it. Maybe I oughta shave off some wall, get me a side hustle or—"
But any dreams of petty crime would crash to a halt, when a series of whirs stirred him back; glancing above and around, would notice portions of walls slide in and be replaced with turrets; each to take aim one by one, and one to even fire a warning shot that'd create gravel at his feet.
Lacks of welcome heard loud and clear, to start bolting until he'd end up breathless—all of a block away, but by all means intact. That half-minute sprint to be left sucking in air, gripping knees just to remain upright and, after a surreptitious check of surroundings, peeking inside his jeans.
"Damn it to hell, there goes THAT idea! And like anyone'd believe me to even say anything."
From there, didn't take long for reminders of his first night to kill off any second winds; every corner to round after, every display to pass of fine smokes, forever diamonds and tailored suits, to leave him stranded, ravenous, almost on all fours, and now completely out of excuses.
"Today of all days, to have no map, no phone, no nothin'. What was I thinkin', leaving my bag behind?"
Would only be the sight of sculptured lions, for virtually noting the marble and stone from his stomach, to begin electrifying him back on his feet.
"Could—could this be? The heart pounds fast, my mind comes alive, nothing holding me back…"
Began to remember the research, the dream once had for having Internet; careful curations taking place since his era, ultimate proofs of patience and fortitude, legendary collections that'd total in the millions, even before now.
For how he'd launch into the lobby, rush from wing to wing, could believe he'd been injected with rocket fuel; happier tears now gracing his cheeks, to discover how mural to mahogany shelf still burst with life, realise the reality would prove leagues more precious than any dream to concoct.
"All the Christmases I'd miss, and this'd perhaps be my present. 'Bout time, but thank you."
After a breath or five to regroup, and some helpful signed directions above, would make waves for the quiet reading area; virtually no soul in sight, and compared to linoleum, that wooden chair and table sure looked inviting.
"Can't have hiked for hours already, pretty sure there's time… Yeeaah, might have me a nice snooze."
Finally knowing of solitude in a world so foreign, would gradually lessen each pang to persist, anxiety to accumulate—never more than right now, would he earn and deserve a certain good rest.
(¯ˆ·.¸(¯ˆ·.¸(¯ˆ·.¸(¯ˆ·.¸(¯ˆ·.¸(¯ˆ·.¸ —…— ¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)
Was of particular interest to return to actual commotion, after what he'd believe was a quick nap—raising himself from corner desks, could've felt ready to take on anything in spite of hunger or thirst.
Signs above again to retrace steps and reach the counter, chomping at the bit to apply for a card. Little too much, perhaps; no records of living, working, or attending an institution anywhere in the city, though he imagined such a status would change in a couple days' time.
However, when eyes would fix above the clerk's head, find the clock, might've lost them and his jaw at once. For he could certainly read analogue, and what he saw didn't bode well for any future.
"Lady, is that time actually accurate? It's quarter past TWELVE now?"
"Nooooo, I set it back on purpose so I can stay longer. Why must you axe such a stupid—"
"Never mind! Listen, can you please do me a solid and call a cab to come get me?"
"Why would I bother, just use the tube outside. Get anywhere you need and MUCH quicker."
"Nobody's taught me how, and I don't trust 'em. Maybe that'll change, but not today."
"Fine, whatever. Gimme a minute, while I get the number. Geez, guy needs us more than I thought."
As soon as their address left her lips, and she'd slam down the phone, would pump those legs out of sight and out the building, many of his calls to earn rebukes for silence.
"Just had to keep doing a Johnnie, didn't ya idiot?" would smack his face, even to stares. "Just couldn't go back, ohhh no."
As soon as a cab would settle beside, would virtually dive in and, almost losing breath, callout for Planet Express—couldn't even sit up before a sudden take-off soon pinned him against leather. HQ to reach in no time flat, yet thud into plate glass for the trouble; left loopier than toucan cereal, would stagger out oblivious to any door slams, and almost to any threat that'd accompany it.
"What's the meaning of this? I'll teach you to stiff me, deadbeat."
"Eww, dude, hell's wrong with—ohhh… Didn't mean to screw ya, bloke. What do I owe ya?"
"Forty-five and I'll let this slide. Weekend rates and 'insurance', you understand."
"Yeah, who's stiffin' who ya"—would count the cash had—"Just take it and piss off, ain't got any time for this."
Patting the pocket out of gratitude, would hear no other response to rush through back alleys and into conferences—by the time he'd face his Captain, looked a false step away from collapsing outright. Not a shred of sympathy on her face, and deservedly so he would add.
In fact, for facing an eye that'd bring gold to boil, he knew this'd be his latest screw-up in a list already at arm's length… Even beside her station in life, knew better than to question such a presence, those arms folded to bulge the muscles.
And in this very moment, were he a betting man, might've given himself 10-90 on not catching those concrete hands.
"Where the HELL have you been?!" heard her yell, poke taken to leave a bruise.
"I've, got, no excuse," would bow while inhaling. "I'm, so, sorry."
"To look like you ran a marathon, smell like ya bathed in a sewer, let's entertain the idea anyway. Let me hear the truth, and LOOK me in the eye as you do."
"Won't, like, my answer, Captain." A long breath to take, then would face her with wide eyes. "Figured I'd get some bearings so took a walk, but forgot all I needed, and didn't bother going back. Ended up in No Man's Land 'till I found a glorious library, would grab some winks for having a bad night, yippy yappy yahooey, now I'm here."
"The next time I'm left waiting that long again, and I don't care how, I'll kick your ass from here to Queens, got it?"
Only a nod to give with gritted teeth, as from there, a sweep of the arm would kick off the tour.
"Our conference room; for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer. Nine o'clock sharp, Monday to Friday, where we mark ourselves present or absent, go through any business agendas…"
Quite the gurgling roar within, reek stirring something awful, to begin thinking of lunch and a long hot shower, until a thunderous clap would shock him right back.
"PAY attention! Anyway, basically, it's here where whatever arrives—package deliveries or personal matters—get seen to, stamped, and boarded so we can send it on its way. That's more or less it, shall we move on?"
"Um, before we do… All I see out there is floor space for rent, so why shouldn't we use it?"
"You are already on atom-thin ice, Mayfield. One more smartass quip outta you—"
"Okay, okay, sorry. Pardon me to point out the obvious."
"Not the time nor place. Next up, straight ahead of me is our kitchen, and staff lounge right next door. I trust that we've no further need for details?"
"Let me guess, for looking at me I should work 'em out just fine?"
"Your words, not mine. Now do you wanna know the ins n' outs, or not?"
"Already wasted enough of your time, I'll figure it out."
A re-directing to ground level, then right down the hallway, the whole while puzzling over tiny smirks given.
"This lobby is where we'll enter from, and just after that, we have our offices to sort out any paperwork, physicals, any particulars as needed. It's here we'll meet Hermes, and Zoidberg—"
"Book me to Hay, Hell and Booligal—please don't tell me Zoidberg's our doctor?"
"What, where and who? Never mind, sadly he is, as if our lives or careers weren't endangered enough."
"Wait, so on my behalf, you'd set him up then screw him good, and now I gotta trust Cthulhu's deadbeat cousin with this?" would direct to his crotch.
"Don't worry, not like he's gonna find it."
Certain of quite the insult, would clench fists and try to exhale, whilst being led through the laboratory; beakers, strange suits and giant tarps to pique curiosities, but go ignored in being ordered through a whole other door.
"Gonna need this place more than us, I'd think. Here, you'll be expected to take pride in your looks and hygiene, uphold our professional standards. Can't go wrong with the finest unisex showers we could—"
"Whoa, wait, what? Unisex showers, as in—"
"Oh I'm sorry, did you believe we put on pink shirts, slid across those tiles all day?"
"Of course not, just never figured they'd exist. For me, rumour had it that unisex was slang for sneaking onto campus grounds, and doing the bareback Charleston. Hey-oooooo!"
A thrust for emphasis, but the laughs wouldn't last when a sharp hand ripped the taste from his lips.
"Oww, dammit!"
"For God's sake, grow up. You think I've any time for clownish crap right now?"
"For the love of—I just got here, why must you expect some grizzled veteran outta me?"
"Because when things get tough aboard our good ship, there's no running for long, and certainly no hiding either. Can't step aside, can't step out, and if even one of us fails to step up, we'll suffer a fate worse than ANYTHING you could ever conceive. Here's our way to handle the heat first, get me?"
"I s'pose I should… But seriously, did you walk the second you oozed out your mother?"
Before he could even blink, his back and skull would bounce off a nearby locker; any yell silenced, then much of his shirt to find in her hands.
"Listen buddy, you wanna see out this weekend, or you want what's left of you in a doggie bag?"
"Okay, okay, for the love of—I'm sorry!"
Was let go so he could rub any sore spots, as she'd then lead him to their marvellous floor space.
"Where the magic happens, our bread and butter out here, the Hangar. And that's it, all there is to know about—"
"Wait, weren't we s'posed to—"
"No thanks to you, gotta save the ship for tomorrow. Speaking of which, I wonder when that will be—what would you say?"
"Same place, your time?"
"And you'll know what happens if it's any time later. You may go."
Back of her head, at least a ship length away, to whisper a tirade that might've left him in a matchbox for being overheard. But as he'd grab out clothes and stripped off his own, thoughts of big lunches circling, could not ignore that any violation—blatant or perceived—would end up attaching him to machines, or bagged up and dumped out the back, made into monster dinner.
"Friggin' Reaper in Lululemons is a ticking time-bomb, and as if I'm gonna know why… Sure hope I can survive to get any answers."
(¯ˆ·.¸(¯ˆ·.¸ (¯ˆ·.¸(¯ˆ·.¸(¯ˆ·.¸(¯ˆ·.¸ —…— ¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)
"So says the Admiral, your choice is simple. Do your job and have your peace, or pursue truths and knowledge beyond at your peril. Only so far our amusement, any sympathies, will carry you…"
Again a lethal cold to course inside, petrify him to the couch; by the time he'd look out the window, caught only a glimpse of shadow. Unaware of any other noises since, could only cup his face and scream before lurching for the sink, grab handfuls of water—first to drink, then to wake up with.
Relatively quiet night since Captain's tours—between good meals and grand libraries—to consider any lessons learnt; hopes had of avoiding harsher ones to double check his backpack, and then head out toward the sunshine once again.
With renewed direction, those steps to deliver past occasional diners and restaurants; notes taken for each, studied with vigour all the way to Central Park, where on what must've been manmade ice, some couple on bladed skates got his attention. Even for any startling additions, was still a showcase to witness; leaps, spins, leaping spins landing cleaner than his head, to lean over the bridge for.
"Rockets or not, special lady would've loved this. Without her, without them, I'll never have a home again."
A wistful start to wit, and for eventually going past the local station, confirming two officers right behind with coffees in hand, by no means would it get better. To remember the boys in blue of a bygone era, could close his eyes and picture their glints of menace, hear the accusations, shiver for the warnings…
Getting no answers then—undoubtedly never now—to pinch his forehead; only those and justice to ask for, yet instead they'd plunge, twist and take out their knife, if only to attack again. Snide cracks to still walk from—no choice had in hearing far worse—but soon had no options once both of his arms got grabbed.
"Yo Smitty, get a load of this jive turkey. Actin' like he can ignore us; makes me think we need our sabers."
"Causing no-one any trouble, officers, so what do youse want?"
"Seventy degrees out here baldy, and you're dressed for winter. Think you'd just walk on by us without questions?"
"Sure talks dealer to me, awww yeah."
"That's cold where I come from. And thanks to your bloody lot, I'm already doing time as is. So please excuse me for saying where the both of ya can go."
"Bigger crime being a smart-ass and talking back. We'll see how chatty you are after a good 'ol fashioned search."
"Whatever Shaft, just get it over with so we can leave each other alone."
Beneath the privacy of brick walls and garbage bins, had to spread those hands and be silent, while limbs of flesh and metal got rather handsy with him.
"Clean so far, but better to make sure—drop those jeans."
"Uhhh, okay," would comply with the command. "Long as ya watch where you stick that—AAAYYYEEE!"
Cold metal right up the darkest place of all, and neither officer to pay any mind to any rather colourful protests. Both Smitty and 'Earl', though, to confirm him clean to the hilt, and actually wish him a pleasant afternoon—not that he was anywhere close to a reciprocating mood.
"Awww, those rotten Blue Heeler bastards. Never gonna complain about a suppository ever again."
Thoughts of other potential violations, any probable stares, to not hesitate in shuffling for the closest sign; hailing a cab, knew of no comfy seat once he got inside, but would breathe a long sigh to discover a lack of one particular detail.
"S'cuse me bloke, and don't think I'm bellyaching, but why aren't we going underground?"
"Weekday service, rarely escape rush hour if we didn't. Anyway, day's a wastin', now where to?"
"Uhhhh, ahhh crap, that department store; what was its name again?"
Clicks of fingers only to once more sink into leather; looking outside, would realise it'd been no accident that they were both rising above the Big Apple. And as street and skyscraper vanished beneath view, would request the window down so he could stick his head out.
"Oh my, dreamed of this since my age wasn't a postcode… Maybe nothing's as big and bad as our beliefs dictate."
And if that wasn't wowing enough, it'd stupefy him even greater when a smooth bump would land him beside a familiar spot.
"Alright Mac, here we are, Alien Overlord & Taylor."
"Wait, wait wait wait… That's exactly where—how the friggin' hell did you—"
"You know of any others, bub? Thirty bucks, chop-chop."
Mutters of magic and madness to pay in interest, before an interactive information board, plus virtual directions, sent him up the elevator and toward glass displays, laden with rings, necklaces, watches of varied styles and qualities. Flashes of better days to be aroused by a blue-and-silver analogue—for being their cheapest model, got an eye-roll before the band would click itself shut.
"Somehow comin' up to eleven, and can't say I'd care to sit, so won't chance it on breakfast. Besides, best to make up for yesterday."
From taking shortcuts for HQ, to keeping watches handy while he scrubbed up, everything in any power had to ensure that promise—by the time he'd stand to attention though, the Captain was already at the desk checking her device.
"So you're actually on time. Damn, and to think I was shinin' up my boots believing I'd expect otherwise."
"Sorry to disappoint ya. And here I was thinking it deserved a great big party with—"
"Like hell, I'm saving my confetti for something important."
"Don't know for what, but I s'pose it's fair. After you."
With a click of keys, a few subtle beeps, and a thud to shake the ground, would soon be hustled up a flight of stairs; reveals of high-backed seats, endless control panels, and panoramic window views upon inspection. Closing his eyes, got imaginings of old crews, their invites declined—to have them, even to hear them, hadn't any idea what he'd do…
"Our bridge, my command, all times, bottom line. We'll spare a chair for your own safety, obviously, but as for interference or even a word, I've the only say-so as to when. Virtually right behind me's our bathroom, and may you never need to know what's up that ladder."
"Umm, why remain on the bridge with you both, when I get the impression I'm not wanted?"
"Kid, if you weren't wanted, we wouldn't be here. But make no mistake, you're just an unproven punk, not worth trust nor faith; rather not rush matters in trying to change that, get it?"
A subtle shrug offered for the point, and then the crewman's cabins would be next—tour to pause, perhaps in earnest, after witnessing Leela mutter toward a particular door, lay her head upon it. Didn't know why nor for who, and was about to ask, until a single finger press sent those curiosities up in complete vapours.
Vapours AND sights to launch him into walls opposite, maybe to make a dent; to at least his knees, a mishmash pile of the rotten or spilt, plus dead skin, nail clippings, carpets of dust and, hoping to heavens he was wrong, the mess of many a lonely night.
"Gotta be—nooo, no way! Can't have escaped her attention for this—"
"Is there a problem, pal?"
Infamous stare of first nights, to really take pause, "Errr, permission to say so?"
"Oh suurre—please, feel free to speak your mind."
"You want me, to sleep or hang out in THERE? Nope, nope, not in this life nor the—"
A sudden fist to flash right beside his face; eyeing those knuckles and beyond pissed look, was sure an arrest was due.
"Holy shi—you said you gave—"
"And you really believed it? Next time, you will respect this cabin, AND the crews who came before you, otherwise I'll be punchin' a one-way ticket to THE most spotless section we have here… Captain's word it'll take your breath away, you got it?"
Hadn't known a stranger thing to deify, but get her he did, to only nod and almost squeak an affirmative. No way would he dare to pry anymore, as they'd rush through the rest of top deck.
"Forget this cabin, you'll never be in it. As for everything else, over there's our escape chutes, right here's the vending room, and direct in front is our combined laundromat and brig. Emergency supplies straight beside that, and—"
With any composure having cratered, to the point of panic for trying to sketch Bessie into memory, he wouldn't realise she had disappeared below deck until a simple misstep almost sent him plunging through. Thoughts of breaking necks to again experience flashes of life—from there, gingerly steps and grips to crush metal would eventually get him to solid ground.
"Thanks for taking your sweet-ass time. No really, not like I've anything else to do."
"You coulda warned me 'bout that bloody hole! There, now we're even."
"I did warn you, you just didn't listen. And right now, you'd better, because IF God forbid I gotta send you here, I'll expect your absolute prudence for whatever's within these walls. One molecule less in this Medbay, and—"
"Again with the threats? Way you're going, I'll empty it by—"
"Then save me the trouble and go crumble in Cookieville, 'cause I've no time for your type. Nor I the intention of making my life worse—damn sure DON'T care for dying before I'm 30. If you won't be of help, then get the hell out of my way."
"Tempting me with a good time, Captain."
"Excuse me?"
"Never you mind."
Little luck that she'd pry no further, but instead paid a quick sentence or two toward the galley and hangouts before climbing down into the cargo bay, the belly of Leela's beast. Tutorials of magnetised cranes, platform operation to prove easy enough, then they'd enter the engine room right beside it.
"Mightn't look like much, but give this 'ol girl some dark matter, and you couldn't comprehend how far we could go in a week."
"Solar System and back? Milky Way if I had to stretch it?"
"Oh Lord, you actually serious? That'd be kid stuff last millennium, never mind today."
"No it wouldn't; for once, I could speak for knowing."
"Suurre you can. Regardless, all we gotta care about is what is written down—the money owed, when it's due, and room for our signatures. Any questions?"
"Can't really think of any, so shall I see you tomorrow?"
"Did I say you were dismissed? I haven't even exposed you to a certain Captain's rack yet."
Even for an unusual sly look, beckoning finger to follow her, could only cock an eyebrow as they'd exit and take a turn; chuckles had to realise that, far from being a forward move, would lay eyes on hundreds upon hundreds of tools instead, traditional or otherwise. Undoubtedly, they to keep HQ's biggest asset in as peak a shape as possible.
"Okay, legit gotta pay that one. You may have a knack for that yet; hell, I could teach ya."
"Be waiting with bated breath. Moving on, all you need's the squeegee, bucket and mop, the rest you can leave to us ladies. However, there's only one way you'll get your duties done."
Within a minute or two she would stand aboard a black metal platform, nod his way once all checks were done.
"Hell if I actually care, but hope you're happy with heights."
The speed with which she'd soar above, that moment she looked no larger than a speck of dust, was enough to buckle those kneecaps; by the time she came back, would be sitting down and totally refusing. Only after tapping her feet—could've matched a Riverdance troupe—and clenching fists, would he join her with wobbly steps.
"Next time, you'll obey any order I give, and there'll be no warning nor waiting. Now, get on these controls and get going."
"You kiddin'? Wall's barely up to my ankles, like I'm gonna—"
True to her words, she to seize control and cause the floor to virtually vanish; no worse vertigo had to begin flailing for balance, then count lucky stars to somehow grip said wall for grim death.
"Sweet OSHA-breaching Jesus, lady, what the HELL'S the matter with you?!"
Scruff of his neck to feel seized: "First of all, I will NOT tolerate being talked to like that. Second, I've earned the right to be called Captain, and here within HQ or on board, you'd do well to remember that."
Would then be released; looking around, found her offering a hand, a sincere if forced smile to wear.
"Third and finally, can you at least try to trust, understand that I have to harden and prepare you while I can? I've seen cruelties I'd never wish on anyone, couldn't begin to conceive of, even suffer on the job… Who better to give your best, than somebody who knows how to get there, cares that others join her?"
"I gotta stop falling for this sincerity, I—"
Yet again would let himself be helped up, knees still unsteady as he'd extend toward the console with her encouragement. Thoughts of classic Analog sticks to surface once tilts and feedback grew familiar—as tempers calmed and he'd play around more, would explore fine enough to earn a backclap.
"Wasn't so bad now, was it? Just might have the heart to make it, y'know."
"Easy for you to say. Each day, the lights only grow dimmer."
"Okay, you gotta cut that whispery crap out. Getting sick of it."
"Fine, yes ma'am."
"Any questions before you're dismissed?"
"Aside from what's eating your sleeve, can't think of any."
"Oh, this old thing? More like, what hasn't it been? Originally got it as a graduation gift, have since had more adventures with it than I'd care to count… Or remember."
"Daresay like an old friend?"
"You might say that, but I'd suggest you don't."
"Uhhh, okay. So, right on nine's when I'll see ya next?"
"When else? Surely you're not gonna take your first day off?"
"I hear ya there. But 'till then, hooroo."
Even a wave goodbye to get a confused look; between public libraries, local diners, and HQ's lived-in couch, the lessons of the weekend and worries over what to expect to melt those minutes into hours. Indeed, wasn't long until he'd be propping up his 'pillow', hoping to commit it all to memory.
"Between the mystery threats, messes, and psychotic breaks, wonder what old Bessie's been hiding—Gods forbid I find out the hard way."