Chapter Two
“Y’know,” Ben said, “I’s really thinkin’ this could work, Carl.”
Carl bubbled and swayed in the spray bottle strapped to Ben’s belt. The water elemental’s burbles and splashes, combined with the occasional swirl of geometric shapes, formed a language few, other than the pair, could decipher.
Ben scanned a small book bound in fake mauve leather. He flipped through the pages, using his left thumb and—occasionally—his tongue, to turn the pages as he walked the corridors of Cleaners HQ, barely dodging other janitors, maids, plumbers, and handymen. Would’ve made for an easier read if he’d had both hands, but the right sleeve of his blue jumpsuit remained rolled up and pinned just below the shoulder.
“Aw, c’mon, buddy. What’s the worst that could—”
Carl spouted in alarm.
Ben spluttered and choked. “Right’cha are. Never should say anythin’ like that. Just askin’ for troublesomeness, ain’t it?” He eyed down a page and settled on an entry. “A’ight. Needin’ me a test run. Who’s lookin’ like they need a dose of ol’ Benny’s sparklin’ wit?”
Carl’s bubbling translated roughly to: This will all end in tears.
“Mebbe if I drank you and got all sortsa sad and weepy. Now shut it and lemme show you what a little educatifyin’ can do.”
He picked a random man heading in the opposite direction. Striking a dramatic pose, Ben thrust the book out like an accusing finger.
“Would thou wert clean enough to spit upon!”
The plumber, Andy according to the name threaded on the left breast of his suit, stared at Ben as if he’d grown a second head—and a walrus head, at that. “Sorry, janitor? There something you need?”
Ben double-checked the book. “Hmm. A-ha!” He shook the book in the plumber’s face. “Lumpish, toad-spotted knave!”
Andy’s forehead puckered. “Have there been reports of bilge toads in the Sewers lately?”
The two men exchanged blank stares before Andy shrugged and headed off. Ben frowned down at Carl.
“I’s gonna need more practice.”
Clipped footsteps made him snap the book shut and shove it into a zippered pocket.
“Janitor Benjamin. What are you doing?”
Ben grinned at the tall black man who strode up beside him. Wearing a white three-piece suit, the Chairman cut a dashing figure compared to Ben’s shabby self. The Chairman’s features and gaze could’ve only been sharper if they’d been honed by a metal grinder.
“Tryin’ to sneak up on me, eh?” Ben asked.
Chairman Francis doffed his fedora and fiddled with the brim. “I’ve no need to sneak around the company I run. I was already making my way to you when I heard what sounded like rather archaic insults being slung about. Care to explain yourself?”
After a few seconds of a stare-me-down, Ben relented. He drew out the book and held it up so Francis could see the title.
“Shakespearean Insults,” the Chairman read. “Enter the World of Slanderous Wit.” He gave a look so flat it could’ve cut two dimensions in half. “Benjamin, really. You’re still trying to find foul-filter loopholes?”
“Man’s gotta have his hobbies.” Ben stashed the book before Francis could confiscate it.
“I’d prefer if your hobbies were more private.”
“There’s a thought. Mebbe I could start collectin’ the types of dirt I find under my fingernails after a job.”
He tensed as a golden glow shimmered around Francis. Imbued with the Board’s authority and a hefty dose of Purity’s own power, the Chairman emanated an aura that could largely subdue the wills of corporate employees. He didn’t abuse it like the former Chairman had, but he wasn’t afraid to use it, friends or no.
“You ain’t gonna report me to the Board for this, are you? I’m educatin’ myself, see?”
“Is that how you rationalize it?”
“You betcha.”
Francis heaved a sigh. “No, I’m not going to report this. I’m busy enough as it is.”
Ben chuckled and barely kept himself from bouncing in place.
“Not unless it gets out of hand.”
“I’ll keep such a good grip on it, it’ll be squealin’ for mercy.” Ben made a fist. “So what’cha lookin’ for lil’ ol’ me for? Got a new assignment for me?”
“No.”
“Did’ja need me to go holler nasty names at a new recruit so you look downright cozy in comparison? Play bad Cleaner, good Chairman?”
“Not that, either.”
“Then howsabout—”
“Perhaps if you stopped guessing, I could tell you.” Francis replaced his fedora on his head. “Your request for rehabilitation trials came across my desk.”
Ben opened his mouth. Raised a finger. Hesitated, and then cleared his throat. “Ah. I, um, put that in the Employee Recommendation box.”
“Yes. You did.”
Ben stared around at the white-tiled halls, feeling like he’d wound up on the decks of an alien ship. “You’re meanin’ that thing actually works?”
“Despite your belief that it’s an incinerator in disguise? Yes, Ben. I take the time to review recommendation submissions, or at least assign an Ascendant to review them on a regular basis. I don’t know what my predecessor did, but this is my effort to help the Cleaners constantly improve. Your idea was marked of interest and passed up to me.”
Ben cringed. “You weren’t supposed to really see that. Sort of a joke in the first place. Was thinkin’—”
“I’ve approved it.”
“You what now?”
Francis’ smile chilled Ben. “Your theory sounded intriguing enough that I thought it might make for a good experiment, especially considering you volunteered as a test subject.”
“Yeah, but …” Ben grasped for a way to slip out of this unexpected development. The one time the system actually worked, and he ended up on the pointy end. Figures. “But I can’t do it on my lonesome. Gotta have folks catchin’ me off-guard, otherwise it ain’t gonna be effective.”
“I’ve already had people sign up to do so.”
Ben blinked. “Serious?”
“Ten, so far.”
“Jeepers. Usually need both hands to count that high. Any more and I’m gonna have to take off my socks.” Ben eyed the hallway, seeing the other Cleaners in a newly nefarious light. “So … when’s it gonna get goin’?”
“It already has.”
Ben sagged. “Aw, c’mon, Francis. Tell me you ain’t doin’ this to me.”
“Technically, you’ve done it to yourself.” He patted Ben’s shoulder. “I wish you the best success, and I look forward to your report on the results. Try to take good notes.”
As Francis headed off, Carl swished about: Told you so. Tears. All tears.
Ben muttered at the Chairman’s back, “Bootless, onion-eyed strumpet.”
“I heard that,” Francis called back.
“Yeah, well, ain’t no fun unless you do.” Ben scrubbed his forehead. “Dagnabbit. Now I gotta look up what strumpet means.”
He refocused on the problem at hand. The trials had already begun? Tarnation. Francis hadn’t told him who’d been authorized, either. Could be anyone. Plenty of other employees would have reason to come after Ben. Despite his being officially cleared of any wrongdoing, rumors lingered about his involvement in the death of his wife and the potential causes of the Corrupt disease he’d contracted afterward—the one that eventually cost him both his arm and Pure powers, landing him the ignominious role as a mere “Cleaners consultant.”
He studied the nearby foot traffic, wondering if he might already be a target. How could he tell until it was too late? A pair of maids sauntered by, feather dusters strapped to their belts like pistols. A plumber shoved a whole toilet along on a handcart, the lid sealed with clamps while something inside the bowl growled and thumped around.
Ben squinted as a new figure rounded a corner: a chimney sweep striding along in a black jumpsuit, bristle brush resting over a shoulder. It’d been a long time since Ben had seen one of their kind around HQ. This guy looked a swarthy sort, with broad shoulders and dark stubble threatening to spring into a full-blown beard if he didn’t savage it with a razor every five minutes.
Not anyone Ben knew, but the appearance of one of the rarer Cleaners right as Francis okay’d Ben’s semi-joking suggestions set his nerves on edge. Could this guy have come to HQ simply to take advantage of the open hunting season on the janitor?
He tensed, but the chimney sweep swept past without pause. Ben let out a low breath.
H’okay. I might be a tad too paranoid for my own good. Gotta get someplace safe and shake these jitters.
He considered his hidey-hole options. His van? He could sleep there for a while, like he used to. No. Too many people knew about that. They’d find him there. His room then. Since he’d only recently begun crashing in HQ most nights, not many folks would know to look for him there.
He tapped the spray bottle. “Buddy, keep an eye on my back, yeah? Let me know if anyone starts gettin’ all sneaksy on me.”
Carl sloshed as Ben jogged for his room. He found the nearest glassway, a floor-to-ceiling mirror where the hall dead-ended, and pressed a palm to it. He mentally triggered the chanted access sigil tucked into his breast pocket. Lacking his old power would’ve normally kept him from activating the glassways or entering most of the sectors, but the Board had given him the metal sigil to let him navigate HQ without needing a chaperone. It also let them keep an eye on his whereabouts, but he figured it was a small price to pay in order to keep working for the company that had given his life the closest thing to a purpose.
His hand slipped through the glassway’s shimmering boundary. Cold rippled over his body as he stepped across and out into another, almost identical hall. He sidestepped a handyman heading the opposite direction. The woman’s eyes and hands glowed with an emerald aura, and she looked determined as she vanished past him. Probably heading to heal up a Cleaner or scrub-team coming in injured from fieldwork.
He hurried on, alternating between speed walking and the occasional sprint down a section when no one else was around. No good letting coworkers think he might be panicked. That’d just encourage them.
Navigating HQ required equal parts familiarity, born from working there for years, and a mental focus on the place an employee wanted to reach. Set slightly outside of normal reality, the headquarters occasionally shifted its layout, and glassways didn’t always link up to the same sections even if a person passed through the same portal within minutes. HQ’s fluidic nature made mapping the corridors, storage areas, conference rooms, and main sectors less helpful in the long-term, and some Cleaners theorized the facility actually held an infinite number of rooms and halls that the Board reshaped and made available as needed to accommodate ongoing operations.
Fortunately, desperation gave Ben a pretty keen focus on his destination, and it just took a few more minutes before he reached the door to his assigned quarters.
Another touch of his hand, another tingle of the sigil in his pocket, and the door whisked open. Ben puffed a relieved sigh as he stepped inside—
And caught a bucketful of water straight in the face. Blubbering, Ben reeled, half-blind. His shoulder rammed the wall and his hip bruised against the dresser, sending him tumbling to the floor. Carl’s bottle went rolling away.
Growling, he swiped his vision clear and shook his head, spraying water from his soaked hair.
A husky Hispanic woman stood over him, watching him with a bemused expression. She held a now-empty bucket tucked under one arm.
“#*%#&@#%*, Lu,” he said. “Didja have to go for the face? That’s the prettiest part of me.”
Lucy cocked an eyebrow. “Did it work?”
Ben braced on his arm and took a mental inventory. He reached inside himself, searching for any glimmer of Pure energy the attack might’ve sparked, but he came up dry.
“Nope.” He thumped the floor with his fist, leaving a wet print. “Durn it. Soaked to my britches and not even a dribble of power to show for it.”
“Pity. Hang on. I’ll be right back.” Lucy went into the bathroom, and running water sounded as she refilled the bucket in the tub. She returned half a minute later, full bucket poised to sling. “Hold still.”
He scrambled to his feet, still dripping. “Hang on a sec. It ain’t gonna help none if I know it’s comin’. That’s the whole point.”
She lowered the bucket. “Spoilsport.”
“How’dja even get in my room, anyhoo?” He held up his hand. “Wait. Lemme guess. Francis let you in.”
Her plump cheeks bunched up in a grin. “Of course. When he sent out the memo about the series of tests you suggested, I was the first the sign up. I knew you’d run for cover once he told you, so I convinced him to let me duck in here for a little ambush.” Setting the bucket down, she reached up and tucked a few loose strands of dark hair back into a bun. “You really think this sort of thing could work? That it could restore your powers?”
He waggled his hand back and forth. “Sorta, kinda, mebbe? Was mostly a joke at first, but the more I got thinkin’ about it, the more it made a bit of sense. We janitors got ourselves an affination—”
“Affinity.”
“Right. That. An affinatory for manipulatin’ water. Most Cleaners get their powers goin’ for the first time when they’re threatened by Scum or exposed to some nasty situation. So I figured mebbe if I got doused in ways that get my adrenaline goin’, it’d wake things up again.”
“Hydroshock therapy, hm?”
“If you wanna make it sound all fancylike, sure.”
Lucy scrunched up one side of her face in thought. “You’re assuming there’s something still in you to wake up; that Jared didn’t suck every last scrap of power out of you.”
“Sure enough.” Ben wiped droplets off his brow. “But I gotta try somethin’, otherwise I’ll go crazy sittin’ in the penalty box.”
“I’m not complaining.” She flicked the bucket, making the water quiver. “It’s kind of therapeutic for me, too.”
“Speakin’ of the kiddo, you wanna go give him a howdy with me? Been meanin’ to talk to him about what he did to me, and this might be good a time as any to sit down for a little chit-chat.”
“Uh-huh.” Lucy eyed him dubiously. “You mean since your room isn’t safe anymore, you’re going to try and camp out in his little quarantine area, where you know most other people can’t go?”
“Lu!” He laid his hand over his heart. “That’s downright hurtful, thinkin’ I’d ever use him that way. What would Dani say if she heard you talkin’ like that?”
“She’d say, ‘Ben, if you ever dare to use Jared as a shield, I will kick you between the legs so hard your balls will shake hands with your brain.’”
“Huh.” Ben scratched his chin. “Probably so. She’s gettin’ so colorful with her threats.” He glanced around the room. “Hey, buddy, where’dja go?”
Burbling led him to the bed, where he crouched and snagged Carl’s bottle out from underneath. He hooked the elemental back onto his belt and then waved Lucy to the door. “Whattaya say? Hop along with me and make sure I ain’t takin’ advantage of our very own weapon of magic destruction?”
She winced. “Only you’d call him that and not realize how scary he can really be.”
“Jared? Scary?” Ben blew a raspberry. “Kid’s like a little lamby, all sortsa friendly and peaceful.”
Lucy snorted. “The last time we visited, he almost set my hair on fire.”
He pointed at her. “Almost. But he didn’t. That’s the important part.”
“All right.” She sighed. “Let’s go see what sort of crazy he’s creating today.”
“You gotta bring the bucket?” He nodded at it. “I’m kinda expectin’ you to toss it my way now, which won’t help none.”
“I’m bringing it in case he starts burping flames again.”
Ben opened the door, motioning for Lucy to follow. “I’m tellin’ you, the kiddo’s gotten a lot better at keepin’ things under control. Soon enough, he’s gonna show the Board he don’t need no quarantine. Why, I reckon you’ll think him a little angel, all sortsa prim and proper.”
He stepped out into the hall—
And took a soap-soaked sponge to the face.
“#$#%^@@&$!”