MECHANICAL MENACE

Fleana, Katrina, Marion, and Prince's encounter with a psychotic janitor ends badly

I. FLEANA

It could happen in just one moment where you life could end because of a stupid mistake.

My friends and I stood over the wreckage of one of Eco-corp’s little projects. He was a man once. A simple janitor who cleaned up the messes around my school. I never got his name, never remembered, never cared. And why should I? He was a big bully. I’m getting ahead of myself. Let me start from when all this happened.

Prince was icing my leg after Jason and Mason hit me with an unexpected landslide simulation. We had nearly won that time, but I made a mistake and cost my team the win by being pretty much crippled. That’s when I finally noticed him sweeping up the rocks, a smug smirk decorating his face.

“Puh-thetic.” He aimed at me.

“Ignore him.” Katrina told me, mainly because neither of us had a retort.

“Sorry low lives like you can’t do nothing. Worthless.”

“Drop dead.” Katrina voice was low.

“I heard that. Clones.”

Marion’s hands caught fire, the temperature drop around Prince which turned my skin black, the blonde strands of Katrina’s hair had electricity dancing along them, and air roared out of my pores. We had very few buttons to push. Being called “clones” was one of them. Just because I was born in a lab from an egg cell from my mother, doesn’t make me a clone. No matter how odd that sounds I am a completely different person.

Verbal assaults like that started happening more often whenever we crossed paths. In the gym, in the hallways, on the way to the bus until it felt like I couldn’t escape them.

You’re probably thinking, hey, why don’t you just go tell somebody about this. Well, it turns out that adults aren’t as helpful as you want them to be.

“What you’re saying is slandering a hard working man who spent years cleaning our school with no complaints from staff to students. Have you ever considered that your recent actions have been stressing him out, lest we forgotten who often causes the most damages around here.” Our principal ranted. We have caused her a lot of trouble, unintentionally speaking of course, so I couldn’t blame her for being at wit’s end with us.

“Toughen up softies.” Coach Vector told us. “Nobody in this world is always going to be nice to you. Now try not to screw up in this simulation.”

We screwed up the simulation.

Our siblings weren’t very helpful, but at least my sister listened.

“I don’t know what to tell you. He’s a janitor. Just ignore him.” Susan advised.

I told my mother what was happening at school. Her eyes turned sympathetic, and she hugged me. But not even her sweet embrace can erase what I felt.

“Oh, honey. I’m so sorry you have to go through all this.” Mom gently told me. “Listen, you’re not a clone. You are you. I don’t know who that janitor think he is calling you that offensive slur.”

“I know mom.” I quickly wiped a tear from my face before she got a chance to see it.

“Do you want me to call your principal for you?”

“No! She…isn’t going to help.”

“But--”

“Please mom! He’s just a janitor. Words can’t hurt you, right?”

Her face looked grim. “You and I both know that isn’t true.” She got up and took my shoulders. “Do you want me to make another appointment with Dr. Xylum?”

“I guess it wouldn’t hurt.”

As much as counseling helped with my…many other issues, it didn’t make the problem go away. You see after being at a human school for a while, I learned that for all the talking and support, the bullying doesn’t just stop. Especially if the bully has actual power, and the janitor had plenty of horse ones.

Coach Vector had sentenced my pals and me to some “character building exercises” after our eleventh simulation failure, which amounted to being janitor assistants.

Apparently, the janitor loved anything mechanical. The walls in his personal garage was filled with misty vehicles, designs, those sort of things. “Man things” he called them, not for ladies like me, something he also gave Prince grief about since he’s not into cars or anything. Stereotypes, the language of�"well, you get the idea.

“For the last time, I can’t change your tires!” Prince told him, which was the fourth time he actually said it.

“And that’s why you’re a punk!” The janitor got livid. “Hiding behind those girls’ skirts!”

“Whoa!” Katrina’s skin sparked. “I don’t--”

“I don’t want you here! I don’t have to answer to you or anyone here! This is my territory! All you book learnin’, head in the clouds pieces of crap is gonna end up working for me one day! Just you wait! You’re nothing! You have nothing! Now get out of my sight clones!”

The last strand that held my temper in check finally snapped. I felt my eyes turn blood red. I could only imagine that my friends had the same expression.

“Mean mug me all you want.” The janitor brushed. “Touch me and I’ll have them cops lock you up.”

I honestly could care less. According to some people around here, it was only a matter of time before somebody slaps the cuffs on me. At least it would be worth it after breaking every bone in this guy’s body, but then I noticed that somehow Prince kept his cool and that made my lungs start accepting oxygen again.

He carefully examined the Eco-motorcycles. “You race?”

“What’s that got to do--” The janitor began.

“He asked you a question.” Marion said apathetically.

“Look you don’t run anything around here. This is my place. I don’t have to answer to you. Me answer to you! You crazy! Go on!”

Katrina turned her head toward Prince. “He does.”

“Go!”

“Bet you can’t beat us in a race.” Prince challenged.

The janitor appeared flabbergasted. “Listen to this guy. Boy, I’ll destroy you.”

“Is that a challenge?”

“Hmph, get the (I’m not writing that) out of here.”

“Just what I thought.” I said.

“What?”

“You’re a coward. But don’t feel bad. I wouldn’t do it either if I was a middle aged man who knows I will get beaten by a bunch of clones!”

“Let’s go tell everybody. I think they wanna hear this.” Marion goaded.

“Puh-thetic. You can never beat me.”

“Probably. But you know these days rumors spread like wildfires. Y’know social media and all.” I waved my itablet.

The janitor had a drunk look on his face. His impaired brain was probably trying to process what I said.

“After this, I don’t wanna hear any crying.”

“You idiots are doing what?!” We heard from Matthew of all people.

The janitor gave us a hybrid car/motorcycle that seats about four passengers. Prince was checking the misty parts for any sign of sabotage.

“Taking care of business, bro.” Marion told him.

“Oh my God. What were you thinking when you thought of this?” Susan lectured.

“Well, I was thinking that I was mad.” I explained. “And the rage needs to be sated with blood…and the public humiliation of a grown man because, frankly, shame has left me months ago.”

“What will this prove?” Caroline’s English accent was slipping into her words.

“Probably nothing.” Prince murmured.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Boy, you need to sound off!” A headlight shrunk my pupils, but the voice was unmistakable. The janitor revved his engine at the four of us. “Talk like you got a pair!”

Prince only sneered. He hated male stereotypes. To him, the janitor was a living personification of that and was trying to mold him into him into one since Aurora refused to do that. Being empathic could give you more information than you think.

The janitor pulled on his gloves, and smiled confidently at us. I noticed a large amount of people forming a crowd around us, all feeling mixtures of wonder, excitement, anxiety, and…arousal? Man, people sure are weird, but I guessed I had about a few minutes before the cops start to show.

“The four of you together just might, just might, give me a challenge.” The janitor taunted. “But you still can’t beat me.”

“Whatever.” I buckled my seat belt. “So if we could just start before the cops show--”

Susan grabbed my door. “No! Fleana I swear to--”

“Woman would you get out of here so I can bust her rear!” The janitor fumed.

I closed my door. “Give me a few minutes.”

Marion drove the hybrid to the makeshift line made out of earth and paint.

“First to downtown Juxtapose City?” The janitor challenged

“Aight.” Marion consented.

We revved our engines, and as soon as Caroline sighed and dropped her handkerchief, we blasted into the air at high speeds.

What was supposed to be a simple race turned into a demolition derby. The janitor must’ve picked up the fact that my friends and me couldn’t really drive. Driving a vehicle constructed out of mist and vapor was way harder than driving a normal, human car which we had never done either for obvious health reasons.

Marion was having trouble keeping the thing a float and the janitor wasn’t helping by ramming into us and taunting us every four miles. The hybrid was now scrapping the road, showering civilians with sparks and crashing into various carts, vendors, and our neighbor Ralph.

“The one day I’m sober and somebody breaks my legs!” I heard him yell.

“Stop!” I shrieked. “You’re gonna kill someone!”

“I ain’t gonna stop!” The janitor laughed. “You can never beat me!”

“This is your car idiot!” Prince pointed out, but the dude was beyond reason.

Okay, so maybe we weren’t great drivers, but we were great cheap shot artists. I let loose a strong blast of air and sent his vehicle tumbling into a building while straightening ours. If he had been human, he would have surely been dead instead he revved his engine and came back for more.

Katrina aimed her finger and sheared off a street light which plopped on top of his head. Prince stuck his hand out the window and created a trail of sleet that pounded the janitor’s face and caused him to veer off course and collide with a produce stand.

“Yeah, what now punk?” I turned my head and my eyes widened. “Stop!”

Marion found the brakes and we managed to stop just before we collided into large vats of enough oil to kill a city’s worth of Biotic-Abiotics.

We quickly got out.

“Oh God.” Marion breathed. “We could’ve died.”

“I guess we win.” I said after realizing that we had landed in downtown.

People started to gather, and we decided to leave before anyone noticed who we were and stick us with the bill. But, unfortunately, that janitor hadn’t had enough of this.

I noticed a little speck in the distance barreling towards us, getting larger by the second. The helmet was missing, his eyes were forcing their way out of their sockets, and he was not stopping.

“You sorry pieces of crap! You can never beat me!” He roared.

“Dude stop!” The four of us shouted.

But he kept his foot on the gas or whatever is used to power these vehicles. He was not going to stop, and it was too late for him to slow down in time, so we did the only thing we could: get out of the way. His bike collided with the vats. A huge explosion erupted in the middle of downtown. My back was baked, and a few civilians including my friends were injured. But even as I was on the ground trying to recover from a concussion, I knew there was no sign of the janitor.

Sirens wailed, people were screaming, police started investigations, groundings ensued, counseling happened. And it all happened in just one moment.

Author's Note

If you like what you've read, check out book one and two at Amazon by Xavier McDougle