Agents of F.I.L.T.H. (part I)
but with everyone dressed in identical bright yellow-and-black jumpsuit and masks it was hard to tell exactly where Nate's friends were. After winding his way up and down the cafeteria, careful not to spill any food on his new, heavily armed companions, he saw a couple of people waving at him to join them.
“Just like fucking junior high,” Nate muttered as he made his way to the table. Setting his tray down he looked at his friends, squinting to try and recognize them through their amber eyepieces. “Hi Jenn. Hi Ernest. You'd think they'd let us take these damn masks off so we can eat.”
The cafeteria went silent. A hundred masks adorned with the biohazard symbol turned toward him and stared. Nate froze. It was just like fucking Junior High.
“Just kidding,” Nate let out a weak laugh. “Eating without our masks. What a silly idea.”
“This guy's like a turd in an elevator,” Ernest said to Jenn as Nate sat down and the rest of the cafeteria begrudgingly went back to shoving food up under their face plates. “Why the hell do we want him around?”
“What does 'turd in an elevator' even mean?” Jenn asked.
“It means he...stinks,” Ernest waved his fork in Nate's direction. “And he just sits there. And we're stuck with him.”
“I'll remember that if you need tech support in the middle of a firefight with the Super League,” Nate said petulantly. “If your sewer-gun breaks down don't come crying to this 'turd', okay?”
“Pffft,” Ernest went back to forking beef stew up under his mask. He continued talking while broth ran down his mask and over his throat. “Its not like we're going to see any action soon, anyway. We've been here, what, three weeks? What do we have to show for it? Drills and propaganda and more drills. I came here to fight superheroes and get a kick ass dental plan, not sit on my ass and jaw with a bunch of turds.”
“I'm a turd now?” Jenn asked. “Whatever. I heard from the girls in Communications that Lord Fecundus is planning an attack against Commander Comet. They said it’s going to be a final showdown and that the fight will be epic.”
“Now that's what I'm talking about,” Ernest shouted, holding his hand up for a high five. No one at the table reciprocated. “Its about time he took down his archenemy. Then we can finally go about taking over the world. We want to do that, right? Take over the world?”
“I think that was one of the bullet points,” Nate answered uncertainly. “But is Lord Fecundus really Commander Comet's archenemy? I thought Barry Man-O-War was his archenemy?”
“That guy's a joke. He couldn't hold Lord Fecundus' jockstrap.”
“Why would he want hold his jock strap?” Jenn asked around a mouth full of stew.
“It’s an expression! It means he couldn't.....
“Everybody shut up!”
Everybody shut up. The whole cafeteria turned towards the source of the shout. General Sewage stood up on one of the tables, a dirt-encrusted transistor radio in his hand. He was the only one who wasn't wearing a full face mask, and the expression on his face was almost ecstatic.
“I just heard this on the radio, I haven't confirmed it yet, but it looks like...”
Everybody continued to shut up and leaned toward the excited General a bit.
“Commander Comet is dead!”
Everybody kept shutting up.
The General sighed and ran his hand through his greasy hair. Shaking his head, droplets falling gently around him in a cascade, he looked at his troops.
“That's good news!”
The room erupted into cheers. Champagne bottles of mysterious origin began to pop, corks shooting out a few of the overhead, florescent bulbs. The suspended ceiling shook with the sounds of men and women celebrating.
Nate, for some unknown reason, felt that this wasn't actually good news.