Shrooms of Doom

It was a warm, spring morning. The birds were busy twittering to themselves about the best places to find discarded chips and the TV programmes they’d seen through people’s windows, but other than that, the Filtham City Community Centre car park was a little quieter than usual. Several of the cars that usually made a home their were missing from their usual spots – the ones that weren’t officially reserved, but if anyone else parked in someone’s usual spot they would get into a right huff and make passive aggressive comments about it all day. The small red car with the “I heart dogs” sticker, the blue car littered with empty Mars bar wrappers, and the grey car with the small dent that the owner hadn’t noticed had all taken the day off. Or rather their owners had. It was the annual staff training day that the council insisted they all participate in. Sadly there were no outdoor adrenaline-fuelled activities or luxury spa days, just a small, poorly ventilated room with a overpaid and under-qualified leadership coach talking to them about setting goals and fulfilling their potential.

Meanwhile, back at the car park, a silver car raced in at an alarming speed and screeched to a halt. The doors opened and several grime fighters stepped out. Mary was the first to disembark – even though she was sat in the middle seat, she’d scrambled over Flush to get out as quickly as she could.

‘Ooh, I don’t think I like that,’ she cried, clutching her stomach and trying to regain her vertical stance as her head span around. ‘I’ve never… is he allowed to drive that fast?’

‘He is,’ Captain Clean confirmed. ‘Special permission from the council or government or someone.’

‘Well, I think next time I’ll get the bus and meet you there,’ Mary replied. ‘I need a sit down.’

She left them for the sanctuary of the community centre, while Flush joined the others, who were busy staring up at the roof of the building.

‘He’s there, again,’ the captain sighed.

For once in his life, Captain Clean was right. There was a figure perched on the edge of the roof. Just like he had been for the last six days. Just sitting there. Doing nothing. Some might have mistaken him for a suicide jumper, or a forgetful window cleaner who had somehow lost his ladder. However, these theories would easily be debunked by the fact that he was wearing an outfit that made him look just like a pigeon. A grey hooded jumper with large, striped feathery wings for arms, a green and purple scarf, grey trousers and a pair of handmade shoes that gave him four protruding claws. They had started noticing him a week ago, always perched on the roof. He never seemed to do anything, just sit there for a few hours at a time looking over the city – or at least the area surrounding the community centre – and then he’d disappear when they weren’t looking. Occasionally he was joined by a few real pigeons, an audience which had steadily been growing in numbers over the course of the week. Today, though, he was joined by just a couple of pigeons.

‘I’m getting fed up with this’ Captain Clean groaned. ‘What’s he even doing there?’

‘Just leave him, he’s not doing any harm,’ said HyJean, repeating the argument she’d been using all week.

‘I think it’s cool,’ Flush added. ‘It’s like we’ve got a pet.’

‘A grown man wearing a pigeon costume is not a pet,’ the captain replied, holding his arms up in an X shape to accentuate his point.

‘He’ll be gone in a bit anyway,’ said HyJean. ‘Doesn’t usually stick around long.’

‘Yeah, probably just wants a bit of bread,’ added Flush.

‘I don’t care, I’ve had enough of him,’ the captain replied. ‘Do you know how dirty pigeons are?’

‘Actually, they’re surprisingly clean animals,’ HyJean replied. She’d recently started a new hobby of reading up on things that the captain regularly stated so that she could correct him whenever the opportunity arose. ‘They bathe themselves and don’t spread diseases like other birds. People just think they’re dirty.’

‘Exactly! So we can’t allow people to see us fraternising with what they think is a dirty bird on our roof,’ the captain replied, holding up his finger authoritatively.

‘I’d love to fraternise with a dirty bird on our roof,’ Flush muttered with a cheeky grin.

‘And it’s only a matter of time before these pigeons start defecating everywhere,’ the captain continued. ‘That’s the stuff that contains the airborne bacteria and makes everywhere a mess. You can’t argue against that.’

‘Well, no, but-‘ HyJean began.

‘No buts! He’s going,’ said the captain, Marching into the community centre. Up on the roof, he slammed open the door. ‘Right you, listen here!’

The noise startled the pigeons, who immediately took flight. The fracas of half a dozen birds flapping their wings and soaring to the air gave the pigeon man enough distraction to leap off the community centre roof, using his homemade wings to glide down to another nearby roof, which he ran across and down the fire escape.

‘Damn it,’ the captain grunted, stamping his foot on the floor, inadvertently triggering one of their training targets, which sprang up and slapped him in the face. ‘That bird has got to go.’

 

 

Early the next morning, deep in the heart of Filtham park, beyond the overgrown weeds and rusted broken playground, was a small wooden hut. It had been made as a children’s playhouse when a fresh new playground first opened, but no children had been near it for years. It had become lost, known only to those that dared tread through the stingers and low hanging trees. The door was barely attached to the hut, hanging on by a single hinge. But it had on it an uncharacteristically pristine padlock, which had been affixed there by the hut’s newest occupants. Doug Dealer, a scruffy young teen, with short dark hair that had been gelled up into a spiky state so that it looked like a burnt hedgehog had nested on the top of his head, waded through the tall grass and up to the shabby door. He looked down at the padlock, then simply pulled the door open. The padlock was just for show. To deter anyone who might stumble across the hut in a drunken stupor. He entered and found three others waiting inside – two boys, one girl, who was lucky to have been allowed in the group, because Doug had wanted to keep it all boys, but Mark insisted that Jo was cool, although Doug suspected Mark fancied her, which he did, of course he did, she was the cool arty one who liked classic rock music, though he’d never admit that he liked her, mainly because she was already seeing a guy from school, who Mark thought was as bit of a douchebag and hoped Jo would realise it soon enough… anyway, Mark and Jo aren’t that important to the story so there’s no need to go into so much detail about their lives. The three teens were all sat on crates or a small pile of sacks of something – they didn’t bother to check what was inside, which was silly really because it could have been some kind of pesticide or poisonous substance. They were sat in an arc, with half a metal barrel in the middle acting as a makeshift table.

‘Alright Doug,’ said Mark, the well-built one with perfectly combed hair and hint of moisturiser that betrayed his macho image. ‘Did you get something?’

‘Aye,’ replied Doug, taking a plastic food bag out of his pocket and chucking it down onto the barrel table. ‘Some mushrooms.’

‘Mushrooms? Planning to make a risotto are you?’ said Jo in a dry voice. Mark laughed especially hard at this.

‘No, they’re me dad’s,’ Doug explained. ‘He works at some lab and said they’re making these funky mushrooms.’

‘Like magic mushrooms?’ asked Mark.

‘Nah, nothing like that,’ Doug said, shaking his head. ‘But they do all weird experiments on food and stuff, like the other day he was telling me they’ve made carrots that actually do help ya see in the dark. They give ya night vision like.’

‘Pfft, rubbish,’ scoffed Mark.

‘No, honest. Me mam ate one by accident and she was walking round the garden at midnight like Batman was our gardener,’ he explained. ‘He’s not supposed to bring his work home, but he sometimes slips a few bits in his bag. I only took four of these, so he shouldn’t miss them.’

‘So, what do these do?’ asked Jo as she inspected the bag.

‘Dunno,’ Doug shrugged, before taking a seat on an upturned wastepaper bin. ‘There’s only one way to find out. One each, so who’s gonna go first?’

‘I think Gus should,’ said Mark.

‘Me?’ asked Gus, who until now had remained silent. He was a thin, weedy looking kid, with small round glasses and long wiry hair. ‘Uh… I don’t know if I want to try it. It might be dangerous.’

‘Of course it’s dangerous, that’s the whole point, idiot,’ said Mark. ‘You wanted to be in this group, so you’ve got to take part or we’ll kick you out.’

It was true. Gus had begged to join the group. Partly it was because he too was enamoured by Jo, but mainly it was that he was lonely. He’d never been popular at school, always derided as being nerdy and shy. Mark had befriended him early on in their school days, mainly out of pity, and had thus far looked out for him. Doug wasn’t keen on Gus joining the group – Jo was completely indifferent – but Mark eventually convinced them. The only condition was that he couldn’t chicken out of any of the group’s anarchic pranks or barely legal activities.

‘Please Mark, I’d rather not,’ said Gus quietly.

‘Come on, live a little,’ Doug, pushing them across the barrel top towards him. ‘Don’t be a loser all your life, have some fun, Gus.’

‘But…’ Gus pleaded.

‘Just eat the bloody mushroom, Gus,’ sighed Mark.

Gus looked at Jo, hoping she’d be his last saviour, but she just gave an ambiguous shrug. She would later come to regret her decision not to fight for Gus, but for now she just sat oblivious, wanting something to happen to make this dull retreat worth attending. Gus took a mushroom out of the bag and inspected it. It looked not unlike a regular mushroom, except it had a purple hue and a more potent stench. Gus looked around at each one of his fellow students once more, but he could see none of them were going to change their stance. Perhaps Jo might have if he’d only stared at her for an extra second or two. But he took a deep breath, then closed his eyes and put the mushroom in his mouth. He let it linger there for a couple of seconds, before starting to chew. It was soft and chewy, and, for all intents and purposes, tasted like a normal mushroom. He felt a little relieved as he finished chewing and swallowed.

‘Well?’ asked Doug. ‘How was it?’

‘It was um… okay, I guess,’ said Gus.

‘What a headline,’ said Jo with a smirk. ‘Can I buy the movie rights to this?’

‘How do you feel?’ asked Mark.

‘I feel… fine,’ said Gus.

He felt embarrassed that he had been so reluctant to eat the mushroom now, but still in the back of his mind he knew something wasn’t right. As Doug reached out to take the bag back, Gus felt his stomach give a little rumble.

‘Wait,’ he said, stretching out his arm and slapping his hand down on the bag to stop Doug. ‘I think… I don’t feel so good.’

His stomach was now starting to ache, though it was pulling in on itself. He closed his eyes tightly and scrunched his face up, feeling a weird tingling sensation on his skin.

‘Dude, are you okay?’ asked Mark, showing the sort of concern for his friend that he should’ve shown earlier.

Gus writhed, shaking his head. As the two boys and one girl watched their friend shake and squirm, they suddenly gasped as they noticed his skin bubble and something purple grow out of patches around his face. It looked like he was sprouting… tiny mushrooms.

‘Doug, what’s happening to him?’ Mark said, turning horrified to his friend and throwing his gaze from the mushrooms to Gus and back again.

‘I… I dunno… I’ve never seen anyone eat them before,’ Doug said, stuttering over his words. ‘I thought they’d be alright.’

Gus was now hunched over, his long hair covering his face as he continued to squirm. He grunted and panted, as if trying to speak, then slowly his breathing started to calm itself. He slowly lifted his head up, faraway eyes staring daggers at Doug. He said nothing, but his mouth curled up into a menacing grin. The others sat frozen as they looked at Gus, waiting for something to happen. Then out of nowhere, he jumped up, scrambled over the barrel and lunged at Doug. Gus tackled him to the ground, then grabbed his face, fingers clutching the sides and tugging at his mouth and eyes, stretching them out. Mark was quick to jump up and pull Gus off Doug, while Jo retreated in fear to the farthest corner of the small hut. As Mark pulled Gus off, he could see purple patches on Doug’s face and small mushrooms growing out as they had on Gus’s, though much fewer and not as big. Gus span around, using a force that he’d never displayed before to fling Mark’s arms off him. He grabbed Mark’s face and Mark could feel his skin tighten and bubble. Once Gus let him go, he felt the tiny mushrooms on his face. His head raced with a sharp pain and his stomach felt queasy. He struggled to stand, collapsing against the wall, his arm barely strong enough to support himself. Lastly, it was Jo’s turn. She screamed loudly and tried to run, but the two weak bodies and Gus were blocking the exit. Gus grabbed her as he had the others, and the same purple blotches and groups of small mushrooms appeared on her skin. Once his work was done, Gus stood looking over his victims, breathing heavily but still smiling manically. He turned and ran through the door, chuckling under his breath as he disappeared into the park. Mark, Doug and Jo all stumbled out after him, managing to get out of the park and flag down a car, begging the driver to take them to the hospital. Fortunately, the driver was not a psychopathic murderer and agreed, which may well have saved their lives.

 

 

Meanwhile, on the second floor of the Filtham community centre, the squad were busying themselves with their own tasks. Mary was catching up on the admin work that she’d neglected since she had become a grime fighter. Flush and Faucet were training in the training room – or at least that’s what they told the others. They were actually trying to come up with new party tricks for Faucet to do with his water powers. HyJean was working on some new upgrades for MOP (their mechanical office pet) in the main room, while Captain Clean sat watching her. He had never really trusted the robot, partly because it usually got the simplest of commands wrong, but also because he felt that somewhere in its programming, the robot just didn’t like him.

‘Almost done,’ HyJean muttered as she typed the last few lines of code on her laptop. ‘Done! Okay, let’s give this a try.’

She unplugged her laptop from the robot and stood up, clearing her throat to make sure her orders were as clear as possible.

‘Okay, MOP. Say hello.’

A single second later, the phone began to ring on the other side of the room. HyJean and Captain Clean span around and stared at the phone, then at each other, then at MOP.

‘Now that is clever,’ said the captain.

‘I don’t think… it can’t be, can it?’ asked HyJean.

She quickly made her way over to the phone and tentatively picked it up.

‘Hello?’ she asked quietly.

‘Hello? Is that the Sanitary Squad?’ came there unmistakable voice of Detective Chief Inspector Dovedale.

‘Oh, inspector, it’s you,’ said HyJean with a sigh of relief. ‘Sorry, I thought you were MOP.’

‘You thought I was a mop?’ asked Dovedale.

‘No, our robot,’ HyJean clarified.

‘You thought I was a robot?’ asked Dovedale, this time even more confused. ‘Are you feeling alright, miss?’

‘Yes, I’m fine. Sorry, inspector,’ said HyJean, waving her hand to try and get Captain Clean to stop chuckling. ‘What can I do for you?’

‘Well, I’m afraid we’ve just apprehended a taxi driver whose services you are reported to have frequently used,’ he explained.

‘The driver? Yes, we’ve used him. Why has he been arrested?’ HyJean asked, listening intently to what the inspector had to say. ‘Yes, he did… he isn’t? Really? No, of course we didn’t know… of course I will… of course you are… of course it is… okay, I’ll be there shortly.’

While HyJean was talking, Flush and Faucet had entered the room, done with their “training” and Flush discreetly wiping away the water off his face – Faucet merely absorbed what was on his face.

‘Who was that?’ asked Flush, spotting the look of surprise on HyJean’s face.

‘It was Dovedale. They’ve arrested the Driver,’ she explained.

‘Arrested him, why?’ asked Faucet.

‘Well, you know how he told us he was given permission to drive at those ridiculous speeds and run red lights?’

‘Yeah,’ the three replied in unison.

‘Well, he wasn’t,’ said HyJean. ‘It’s all a lie. He’s in big trouble and facing serious jail time.’

‘Oh jeez, that’s crazy,’ said Faucet.

‘Ah man, I liked that guy,’ said Flush. ‘And no more free rides now.’

‘Wait, we won’t be in trouble, will we?’ asked the captain.

‘I’m not sure,’ HyJean shrugged as she gathered her coat and bag. ‘I shouldn’t think so, we weren’t to know. But I’ll ask. Dovedale wants me to go in and give a statement.’

‘Can you ask him for my Queen CD back if you see him,’ Flush asked.

‘Yes, that’ll be top of my list of things to ask,’ HyJean replied with a roll of her eyes.

‘So how are we going to get around now?’ asked Faucet.

‘I guess we’ll have to revert to public transport again,’ the captain replied.

‘Aww man, can’t we get a company car?’ asked Flush.

‘Flush, you know we can’t afford anything like that,’ said the captain. ‘With the council’s budget we’d be lucky to get a skateboard to share between us.’

‘Actually, I think we could afford it,’ said Mary, who had wandered in, holding a notebook. ‘I’ve been running the numbers and now that we don’t have… there’s one less wage going out, we should be able to afford to run a vehicle, so long as we don’t use it too much.’

Since her husband, Sergeant Suds, had died, there had indeed been one less member on the squad. And in their grief, they hadn’t really thought about what that meant financially.

‘You worked all that out since HyJean got the call?’ the captain asked.

‘No, no. I did some calculating this morning. Anything to not have to go in that death trap again,’ Mary admitted.

‘This is great!’ said Flush excitedly. ‘And we’ve got nothing on at the moment, so we could go look at some cars right now.’

‘I can’t, I’ve got to go to the police station,’ HyJean reminded him.

‘Police station? Why, what have you done?’ asked Mary.

‘No, the Driver’s been arrested,’ HyJean explained. ‘That’s why we’re getting a company car. They want me to go give a statement.’

‘Oh, I see,’ Mary chuckled. ‘I thought it was about that incident with the park keeper.’

‘What incident with the park keeper?’ asked Captain Clean.

‘Nothing!’ said HyJean, quickly leaving and shutting the door behind her before the captain could interrogate her anymore.

‘Right, shall we go?’ asked Flush.

‘Fine. But you two stay here,’ the captain said, pointing to Faucet and Mary. ‘I’ve set up a little training exercise for you in the training room.’

‘Ooh, how exciting,’ said Mary.

‘I wouldn’t get your hopes up,’ Flush said quietly before following the captain out of the door.

 

 

Gus marched silently into the supermarket, a determined look on his fungi-covered face. He went straight to the fruit and veg section and picked up a whole crate of mushrooms.

‘Hey, you can’t do that,’ said a man who had been planning to make a mushroom risotto for a girl that he fancied but stood no chance with that evening. ‘I want some of those.’

Gus just stared at him blankly. As the man tried to take some of the mushrooms, Gus swung the crate away out of his reach. They tussled for a while until Gus finally put the crate down and grabbed the man’s bare arm with his infected hands. As he squeezed, little mushrooms began to grow up the man’s arm.

‘There’s your mushrooms,’ Gus said with a low, deadpan tone.

He picked the crate back up and took it over to the counter.

‘Boy, someone likes their mushrooms,’ the cashier chuckled as she eyed up the crate and wondered how she was going to process this many mushrooms. ‘Starting your own mushroom festival, are you?’

‘Something like that,’ Gus muttered.

Seeing that he wasn’t in a chatty mood, the cashier started scanning the mushrooms, putting a handful at a time on the scales and before depositing them in one large bag.

‘That’ll be thirty two pounds, please,’ she said cheerily.

But Gus simply ignored her, picked up the bag and walked off.

‘Hey! Come back here! You’ve got to pay for those!’ she called after him. ‘Security! Stop him! Security!’

When no reply came, she hurriedly left her position and ran to the front of the store. Gus had already left by the time she arrived, but she found something else at the entrance that chilled her to the bone. Slumped down on the floor was the security guard, skin covered in tiny mushrooms, clutching his chest and struggling to breathe weak, croaky breaths. She backed away, slowly making her way back to her checkout desk. She pressed the microphone button with a quivering finger and spoke into the microphone with a hysterically calm voice.

‘Clean up at store entrance, please. Clean up at store entrance.’

 

 

At the Second Hand Automotive Traders  – a business that rarely abbreviated their name to an acronym – Captain Clean and Flush stood before a row of cars of all different shapes, sizes and colours, whispering to each other in a frustrated but hushed tone.

‘Why did we have to wear the outfits?’ Flush asked. Indeed, they had worn their grime-fighting gear to the showroom, and whilst a simple mask wasn’t too bad for Flush, Captain Clean stood out a mile with his head wrapped in toilet roll and a large flowing cape. There were very few places he didn’t stand out. Even when they passed the group of young men dressed as superheroes on their way to comic con, he still managed to look out of place. He never quite got over Spider-Man laughing at him.

‘To give us an air of authority that will cut through his well rehearsed sales patter,’ the captain hissed back. ‘And so he might give us a discount.’

‘I wish I hadn’t come now,’ Flush sighed.

‘I need you here, I don’t know anything about cars,’ the captain admitted. Like most things that regular people knew lots about, Captain Clean had completely neglected to learn about or find any kind of fascination in cars. With their dirty, pollution-causing engines, he was reluctant to own one himself. At least with the squad he could blame them.

As they stood muttering to each other, a salesman came over to greet them. His jet black hair was slicked back with so much gel that it glistened in the afternoon sunlight. His suit was perfectly tailored to him, to show off the muscles he worked so hard to obtain. But to show he was a friendly guy, he had a novelty tie with small images of monkeys driving cars embroidered on.

‘Hi there, guys,’ he said in a chirpy tone, turning to address Captain Clean first as he was the older and clearly the alpha of their pack of two. ‘What can I do for you, my mate?’

‘Firstly, please kindly refrain from calling me mate, we’ve only just met and I’m here to buy a car, not make friends,’ the captain replied bluntly. ‘Secondly, we’re here to buy a vehicle, which should be obvious from the fact that you are an automobile traders and we are standing here looking at cars.’

‘Straight to the point. I like it,’ Gavin looked suitably stunned and, for the first time in his life, was utterly speechless.

‘Don’t mind him, he’s just in a bad mood because our driver got arrested,’ Flush explained.

‘Arrested?’ asked Gavin, giving them a curious look.

It’s often the case that what seems trivial to one person may appear incredibly suspicious to another, and both Captain Clean and Flush had become a immune to how preposterous it was to have a taxi driver that sped through traffic and jumped lights all the time. In this moment, they looked at each other and it suddenly dawned on them how unusual it was. But neither of them wanted to consider it for too long, so Flush quickly changed the subject back to the reason they were there.

‘We need something that will fit five people and plenty of cleaning supplies,’ he explained. ‘We’re from the Sanitary Squad you, see, the council’s grime fighting division.’

‘Oh, I see,’ Gavin nodded. ‘I did wonder about the outfits, I’ve got to admit. I thought you’d just come from a fancy dress party or something. Was hoping you’d be drunk so I could sell you a lemon.’

‘You sell groceries here too?’ asked an oblivious Captain Clean. ‘We could do with some more oranges actually, we seem to have run out.’

‘No, he means a dodgy car,’ Flush clarified. ‘In any case, we’re not drunk and we’re very serious.’ He saw the look on Gavin’s face as he glanced at the captain’s toilet roll mask and felt the need to caveat his statement. ‘Serious about buying a vehicle.’

‘Very well, I think I have just the thing,’ said Gavin, gesturing for them to follow him as he walked to another part of the parking lot that had bigger vehicles. ‘It was only brought in last week. Seats five and plenty of room for… cleaning supplies.’

He hesitated a little as he spoke, trying to adjust to the conversation that he had not expected to be having that day. They arrived at small van, like the sort a window cleaner or handyman might use – in fact there were still faint traces of the former owner’s sticker on the side.

‘What do you think?’ Gavin asked.

‘What do you think?’ Gavin asked.

Captain Clean looked at the van, then back at the smiling Gavin. He took Flush to one side and turned their backs from the salesman.

‘I’m not sure I trust this salesman,’ the captain whispered. ‘Look at that stain on his leg, he’s obviously got very low personal hygiene. And he clearly suspects I know nothing about cars. What should I do?’

‘Just act like a guy. Give it a little kick and talk about the suspension,’ Flush shrugged.

‘Right, got you.’

Captain Clean walked back over to the salesman, kicked him in the shin and said, ‘I think you should be suspended.’

‘Ow!’ cried Gavin, reaching down and rubbing his shin.

‘Sorry about that. He’s not good with people,’ said Flush, turning to the captain. ‘I meant kick the van!’

‘I can’t kick that, it’ll probably fall apart!’ the captain argued.

‘Whatever,’ groaned Flush. ‘Just stay here and do nothing while I look it over.’

Flush briefly inspected the vehicle, which had a spacious interior with three seats in the front and three seats in the back along one of the sides that had been manually installed. There were no seatbelts, but a handy rail above that passengers could hold onto.

‘It’s bostin!’ Flush called out from inside. He was impressed by the rustic nature of the van, which made him feel like he was in some old action film just by being inside it. He could already imagine himself at the wheel, chasing after some bad guys, turning the wheel left and right even though they were driving in a straight line, the slightly 2D-looking scenery whizzing past outside. ‘It’s like the mystery machine from Scooby Doo.’

‘Okay, let’s get something straight,’ said the captain as Flush emerged from the van. ‘the mystery machine was a fictional vehicle used in a cartoon by a bunch of hippie teenagers and their dog.’

‘Yeah,’ Flush nodded.

‘We are a group of real life fully grown adults,’ the captain continued.

Flush paused for a moment, trying to get on the same page as the captain, who seemed to be in a different book altogether. ‘So… you’re saying we should get a dog?’

‘No I’m not saying we should get a dog!’ the captain snapped. He turned to Gavin, who was now starting to look a little scared. ‘What else have you got? And no more melons.’

They continued walking through the car park, looking at the various vehicles on display. Flush paused at one point to look at a milk float, but the captain pushed him to keep walking. They returned to the section with the regular cars. Gavin the salesman presented them with a black SUV. Its glossy paint job gleamed with the promise of adventure – or at least some really dramatic grocery runs.

‘Oh baby, now we’re taking,’ said Flush, excitedly bouncing around the car, looking into its tinted windows at the luxurious leather interior. It looked like it had enough room to comfortably fit the squad, who, by the look of it, would be too comfortable to want to get out and fight grime.

‘Yes, this is much more like it,’ said the captain with a nod of approval. ‘How much is it?’

Gavin pointed out the price on the windscreen and Captain Clean let out a little high-pitched gasp and stumbled backwards. Flush caught him and held him up.

‘Yeah, I don’t think we can afford that, mate,’ he said with an air of disappointment in his voice.

Gavin stood in thought for a moment, eyeing up the two grime fighters and glancing around at the different cars, vans and other vehicles surrounding them. A metaphorical lightbulb switched itself on above his head and he grinned to himself.

‘You said you used to get around in a taxi, right?’ he asked.

‘Yeah,’ Flush nodded.

‘Right, follow me,’ said Gavin, who now walked with a renewed confidence as he led them back through the rows of cars and round to the side of the lot. As they turned the corner, he presented them with the vehicle he’d chosen for them: a classic London black cab. It looked a little worn, but still had a certain charm about it. As Flush’s smile grew, Captain Clean’s dropped off his face completely.

‘You’re joking, right?’ he muttered.

Gavin chose to ignore him and sprung into the usual sales patter that he’d spent so many years perfecting. ‘This was brought in a few days ago; an old boy had bought one privately and now he uh… no longer requires it, they sold it to us. It’s in great condition, seats five and room for cleaning supplies. And best of all… the light still works.’

He tapped the light above the windscreen that was currently turned off. It had been stripped of the word “taxi” that usually appeared there, and was now blank.

‘This is so cool,’ enthused Flush as he rushed towards it and began looking inside. ‘It’s even got the flippy up seats!’

‘I don’t know,’ said the captain, who joined Flush, but at a much less energetic pace. ‘What if people think we’re a taxi and try to hail us?’

‘Nah, we can get it painted so people don’t recognise it,’ said Flush, batting away the captain’s concerns without taking his eye off the vehicle.

‘No, we’re not driving around in a-‘ the captain began, but Gavin sensed his disapproval and cut in before he could finish.

‘Perhaps if you gave it a test drive?’ suggested Gavin.

‘No, we don’t want to-‘ the captain replied, but this time his fellow grime fighter cut him off.

‘Great idea!’ cried Flush, opening the car door and jumping into the driver’s seat.’

‘Is anybody even listening to me?’ the captain sighed.

‘Come on Cap, get in!’ Flush called, banging on the window.

Gavin had already preempted success and got in the back of the taxi, handing Flush the keys.

‘Fine,’ the captain said with a heavy sigh, as he opened the back door and climbed in, sitting next to Gavin.

A little red light pinged on and Flush’s voice came over the speaker, disguised with a thick cockney accent. ‘Awight, guv’na! How ya doin’ me old china?’ which was followed by a giggle and mutter of excitement to himself. ‘I’m gonna love this.’

‘I’m going to hate this,’ the captain muttered quietly to himself.

Gavin didn’t say anything, but his thoughts were of the sale. He needed to win them over, to get the sale. Despite his confident persona, he’d been struggling to make enough sales in his short time at the dealership. He’d tried everything – including a sharp suit and gelled back hair – and now even the prospect of going for a test drive in an old taxi cab with two costumed characters wasn’t enough to put him off. And if he could shift this old thing, it’d prove to his boss that he could sell anything. So, as they pulled off the lot and into the road, he casually began pointing out features of the taxi cab to its potential new owners.

 

 

Back in the base, Faucet and Mary stood outside the door to the training room, hesitating before entering to consider what could be waiting for them inside. Captain Clean was often setting up things in the training room as training exercises, but they rarely seemed to follow regular crime fighting training. They were much more specialised. Only the week before, they had to undertake a ‘spill drill’, in which various liquids were poured sequentially from buckets hanging overhead, and members of the squad took it in turns to try and prevent them reaching the floor and then cleaning up any spillage that did make it. To make it harder, there were no cloths or wipes, only mildly absorbent items like books, trousers and a wig. The training exercises were never big on dignity. And the only way Captain Clean could stand to have so much mess in the room was the promise of getting to clean it all up after, so he secretly hoped his grime fighters would perform poorly. They rarely did.

‘I hope it’s not fighting with brooms again,’ said Faucet. ‘I’ve still got bristles up my nose from the other day. I swear that was in illegal move from Flush.’

‘Don’t worry, dear, he’s usually around for that sort of exercise,’ said Mary, patting him on the arm. ‘I’m sure it’ll be something more fun than that.’

As she opened the door, the pair were hit by the foulest stench they’d ever encountered. It blasted out, hitting them like a drunk uncle’s breath. They recoiled a little and shut the door.

‘Christ, what was that?’ asked Faucet through coughs and splutters. ‘Is that the challenge? To withstand the smell?’

‘I wouldn’t put it past him,’ said Mary. ‘Maybe we should get some face masks.’

She quickly nipped over to one of the cabinets in the main room, taking out a couple of face masks. She returned and handed one to Faucet before donning her own. Once they were suitably attired, she nodded and opened the door again. Even with the masks, the smell was still there, but this time it was more bearable. They cautiously entered the room and Mary shut the door to try and contain the smell. To very little surprise, they found two bins in the middle of the room, which seemed to be overflowing with the grossest things; black banana skins, raw fish, sweaty towels, used nappies, curdled milk and even a pair of shoes that Mary recognised as Flush’s old pumps. On top of one of the bins, resting on a lump of mouldy cheese, was a piece of folded card. Mary took it and opened it to reveal a message inside, which she read aloud.

‘If you are going to fight grime, you must learn to conquer your fears, control your nose and keep your stomach strong. I have prepared a bin for each of you. Inside each is hidden three ping pong balls. Your task is to retrieve them. And don’t forget to clean up any mess you make.’

‘Is this what you meant by something more fun?’ asked Faucet.

‘Okay, I’ll admit, this is the worst training exercise I’ve seen him do,’ admitted Mary. ‘But we can do this, we just need to conquer our fears, like he said.’

‘Mary, look at this,’ he said, looking down at his bin. ‘This is the biggest collection of stinky stuff I’ve ever seen. There’s more rotten food in here than a rat’s Christmas party. I don’t even know what half of these foods are. And I swear I just saw something move in there. He can’t really expect us to reach in there. I mean there must be serious health risks being exposed to this sort of stuff. We’ll need hazmat suits and extra thick gloves if we’re gonna be diving into this. How did he even get all of this stuff anyway? Does he have some kinda deal with the garbage men? I gotta admit, when he said about fighting grime, I thought it was gonna be beating up bad guys and spraying them with some antibacterial spray after. I did not sign up for this. I mean it’s crazy. Don’t you think?’

He turned back around to get Mary’s opinion, but instead he found her with arms covered in slime and bits of food as she held up three ping pong balls with a satisfied smile on her face. Faucet just stared at her with his jaw hanging down.

‘Wh… but…’ he muttered. ‘How did you do that?!’

‘Oh, it’s easy. Just don’t think about what you’re putting your hand into,’ she explained. ‘Focus on finding the balls and ignore the rubbish.’

‘That would be a lot easier to do if it didn’t stink to high heaven,’ said Faucet, looking back at his bin.

‘But there you go again, you’re thinking about the smell,’ said Mary.

‘It’s hard not to when it’s doing a full-scale attack on my nostrils!’ Faucet replied.

‘Just switch off from it, don’t think about it and your nose will adapt to it,’ said Mary.

‘How do you know all this anyway?’ asked Faucet.

‘I’ve heard the captain doing these exercises lots of times,’ she explained. ‘I’ve picked a few things up over the years.’

‘Okay, I’ll give it a go,’ said Faucet. ‘Can I borrow one of your balls?’

Mary handed Faucet one of her ping pong balls and he held it up in front of his face, between him and the bin, and focused on it. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, then opened them again and, without hesitating, plunged his arm into the bin. He could feel the slime, hear the squelching and smell the stench, but he kept his eyes on the ball he was holding as he felt around inside the bin. It wasn’t long before he found his first ball, which he held up triumphantly. Mary gave him a little round of applause and he returned to the bin, searching for the second ball. By the time he’d found it and was onto the third ball, he found he’d managed to switch off from the assault on his senses and he had no trouble sticking his arm in the pile of rotting rubbish.

‘I did it. I actually did it!’ he said as he held up the third ping pong ball. ‘And I’m not afraid of all this gross stuff anymore.’

‘You did an excellent job. I’m so proud of you,’ said Mary. ‘And it’s a good job you’re not afraid of it, because now we’ve got to clean it up and get it back outside.’

‘You know what, I’m not even gonna complain about that,’ said Faucet, still beaming with pride as he put the three ping pong balls on a shelf and started picking up the waste that had spilled over onto the floor.

‘I might even put my hand in there again just for fun,’ he said with a playful smile, dipping his hand in and out of the bin to show off his fearlessness.

‘You’ve certainly overcome your fears,’ Mary chuckled. ‘I thought you would’ve refused when you saw the dead mouse in there.’

Faucet said nothing. His eyes widened to the extent that they almost popped out and he slowly looked down at his hand with a look of dread in his eyes. He pulled his hand out slowly, dripping with bin juices and god knows what else, he looked at it, then up at Mary, speaking quietly, ‘I’m gonna go wash my hand now.’

 

 

Meanwhile, in the heart of the city, on Newhart Street no less, a taxi driver lay slumped over the wheel of his car, covered in tiny mushrooms and struggling to breathe. One of the back doors was open. With his newfound confidence, Gus found himself even rebellious enough not to close a car door after himself. This wouldn’t be the greatest crime he’d commit that day, but it was certainly the poorest form of car etiquette. He walked down the street, a duffel bag full of mushrooms swinging by his side. He had no real target in mind, he just knew that he wanted to get revenge on a world that continually oppressed him and let the fungus that was consuming his body spread across the city. He reached the main shopping area and stood at the top of a small set of stairs. He took out a mushroom and held it in his hands for a couple of seconds. As he did so, the tiny fungal growths on his hand started to grow on the mushroom itself. He held it up and threw it into the crowd. There was no response at first, but then came a shriek from a woman whose husband had been hit by the mushroom and now had tiny mushrooms growing on the side of his face. This gave Gus the time to prepare his next mushroom, which he hurled into the crowd in a different direction. Another squeal and another victim, this time a young woman, with mushrooms on their face and a struggle to breathe. As Gus continued his barrage of toxic mushrooms, the crowd began to grow wise and panic spread, with people running from the mad mushroom man to avoid behind hit. Those who were hit ran to find the authorities or seek medical assistance. With chaos ensuing, Gus’s attacks grew more sporadic, tossing the mushrooms randomly into the crowd. A few tried to stop him, but were immediately spotted and hit with a mushroom. The curious thing was that he never spoke during the entire fracas. He showed very little emotion, like this was not something he was enjoying, but something that he felt compelled to do by some unknown force. When a third of the mushrooms had been used, Gus descended the steps and into the throng, disappearing down the road to another location. By the time the authorities arrived, he was gone, but they would soon be able to follow the screams of another surprised crowd.

 

 

About thirty minutes away from the city centre – twenty on a good day, if there’s wasn’t much traffic, but there always was, or roadworks, there often seemed to be roadworks going on, so much so that the squad wondered if the roads had purposely been built poorly to give the council something to do of a Monday morning at rush hour – Captain Clean, Flush and their new friend, Gavin, were driving down a quiet road in the taxi cab. Flush had a big grin on his face, but the captain was decidedly less excited. He thought he felt a little buzz of excitement in his leg, which was weird.

‘Why is this seat vibrating?’ he asked Gavin.

‘It isn’t,’ Gavin replied. ‘I think it’s your phone going off.’

‘Ah,’ said the captain, reaching into his pocket.

‘Why do you keep your phone on silent?’ asked Flush over the speaker system.

‘Because the ringtone annoys me and I don’t know how to change it!’ the captain snapped back, before answering the phone. ‘Hello?’

‘Cap, it’s me, Faucet,’ said a voice on the other end that was either Faucet or someone doing a very good impression of him. ‘Dovedale just called, he needs your help.’

‘You were supposed to tell Mary so she could call me,’ the captain replied.

‘I know, but she’s in the John,’ Faucet explained.

‘John? John who?’ the captain asked.

‘No, the John… as in the toilet,’ Faucet clarified.

‘She’s in the toilet with a man called John?’ asked the captain, leading Flush and Gavin’s eyes to widen a little.

‘No, she’s… it doesn’t matter,’ said Faucet, getting frustrated. ‘Dovedale said there’s a guy in town running around throwing toxic mushrooms at people, making them struggle to breath and growing fungus all over their skin. The cops have tried to stop him, but they keep getting hit and, frankly, I think they’re a bit scared. Can you guys go take a look? He was last seen by Tesco.’

‘Sure, we’re on our way,’ the captain replied. ‘And tell Mary I’ll be having words with her about what she’s getting up to in our toilet.’

The captain hung up the phone and turned to the small selection of buttons next to the seat.

‘Which one of these is the speaker?’ he asked Gavin.

‘This one,’ said Gavin, reaching over and pressing a button, which lit up with a little red light.

Captain Clean leaned down until his mouth was right by it and spoke loudly into it.

‘Flush, take us to the city! We’ve got grime to fight!’

‘Hey, you can’t do that,’ said Gavin. ‘This is a test drive, you’re not supposed to go more than a mile away.’

‘Son, there’s lives at stake here,’ said Captain Clean, grabbing Gavin by the lapels and shaking him. ‘This is more important than your job.’

‘Okay, okay, fine!’ cried Gavin. ‘Just stop shaking me.’

Captain Clean turned back to the microphone button and pressed it. ‘Flush, step on it.’

‘You don’t have to use that Cap,’ Flush called out. ‘I can hear you back here.’

Captain Clean pressed the button once again and added, ‘Okay, thank you.’

Flush out his foot down and the taxi cab sped off past the car lot and onto the main road leading into the city. Flush didn’t drive at the same speeds as their old driver, and he had to stop several times at red lights, but it wasn’t long before they arrived in the city centre. He pulled up on a side road just around the corner from the Tesco that Fun Gus had last been sighted outside and the two grime fighters got out of the cab. Gavin stayed cowering on the backseat, his seatbelt done up tightly. His day had already taken a strange turn when he met the two grime fighters, and he didn’t fancy taking any more strange turns for fear of getting lost in the insanity of it all.

‘Come on, we might need you,’ the captain said, gesturing for Gavin to join them.

‘What? Me? But I’m just a salesman,’ Gavin protested. ‘I’m not a crime fighter.’

‘Neither are we, we’re grime fighters,’ Captain Clean explained. ‘Which is actually a lot easier than being a crime fighter. Although, now that I think about it, it’s probably not. We deal with a lot of crazy stuff.’

‘Look, we’re wasting time,’ said Flush. ‘This guy sounds like a real crackpot, so we might need someone normal looking to talk to him. Don’t worry, we’ll keep you safe.’

‘Hey, I’m normal looking,’ said the captain with an offended tone.

‘You’ve got toilet roll on your head!’ laughed Gavin, as if he’d only just noticed how ridiculous the captain looked.

‘Exactly,’ said Flush. ‘So come on.’

Gavin reluctantly undid his seatbelt and climbed out of the cab, making sure to lock it before they set off onto the high street.

‘There he is!’ shouted Captain Clean, running off and lunging at a passing civilian, tackling him to the ground.

‘Huh, that was quick,’ muttered Flush.

‘Hey, what are you doing?’ cried the man on the floor. ‘Get off me!’

‘You shall terrorise this city no longer, you mushroomed maniac!’ said the captain triumphantly as he fumbled around in his utility belt for a pair of handcuffs that he’d actually left back in the base.

‘I’m not the mushroom guy,’ the man said, now starting to turn aggressive. ‘He’s down the road, you idiot.’

‘Is he?’ asked the captain, and as if on cue there came a scream from farther down the road. The captain looked a little embarrassed and helped pull the man back up onto his feet. ‘Oh, I see. Sorry about that. Uh… don’t eat mushrooms.’

‘Oh, shut up,’ said the man, walking off quickly and muttering to himself. ‘Don’t even like mushrooms anyway.’

Meanwhile, Flush and Gavin were standing a few feet away, watching the captain’s take arrest.

‘Is he always like this?’ Gavin whispered to Flush.

‘Pretty much, yeah,’ Flush sighed. ‘Come on.’

They ran down the road, the captain’s cape blowing in the breeze and Gavin’s slicked back hair providing a streamlined surface to reduce that tiny bit of air resistance.

 

 

The grime fighters and their new salesman companion ran towards the sound of screaming.

‘Alright, Flush, go get him,’ said the captain.

‘What do you mean, go get him?’ asked Flush. ‘You’re our fearless leader.’

‘Exactly, and as your leader I’m delegating this task to you,’ said the captain, trying to sound like his pants weren’t in imminent danger of being flooded. ‘I have every confidence in you.’

‘I’d rather you lead by example,’ said Flush. ‘Besides, I’ve got to look after my good friend Gary here.’

‘Gavin,’ the salesman corrected him.

‘Oh alright, fine,’ huffed the captain. ‘Although I really wish we’d stopped by the base to get some weapons. I could do with something long so I don’t have to get too close to him. Have you got your whip?’

‘Nope, back at the base,’ said Flush with a shrug.

‘Damn it. Okay, what have you got Gary?’ he asked.

‘It’s Gavin,’ said the salesman. ‘And I don’t have anything. I don’t usually carry weapons when I’m selling cars.’

‘Well you should, you never know who might turn up,’ said the captain.

‘I’ll bear that in mind,’ said Gavin.

‘Okay, I’ve got an idea. Give me your belt,’ he said to the salesman, gesturing for him to take it off.

‘What? I’m not giving you my belt. Use your own,’ he protested.

‘I can’t use my own, my trousers will fall down,’ said the captain. ‘It won’t look very dignified fighting grime with trousers around my ankles.’

‘But what about my…’ Gavin continued, but the captain cut him off.

‘Look, we haven’t got time to debate. Saving the city is more important than keeping your trousers up. So gimme.’

Gavin looked at Flush, as if for backup, but Flush simply shrugged.

This day really wasn’t going the way that the salesman had hoped. Not only had he been given the task of trying to sell a car to two men in silly costumes, but now they’d kidnapped him, dragged him to a dangerous crime scene and were now forcing him to take his belt off. He sighed and reluctantly removed his belt, which was not as expensive as it looked, and handed it to Captain Clean.

The captain simply nodded and strode off towards the centre of where all the screams originated. Pushing his way through the crowd of panicked people running in the opposite direction – which was like trying to walk through treacle, which he’d never done but always wanted to try – he finally saw him. Fun Gus.

The young mycophile (or “fan of mushrooms”) looked even more dishevelled and possessed now, with more of his skin covered in the tiny spores that had infected him. When he saw Captain Clean, Gus paused mid-throw and stared at him. They locked eyes for a few seconds, like the captain was hoping to discover he had mind controlling powers and could subdue the criminal with minimal effort. Of course, he didn’t have mind control powers, and his straining face only made it look like he was desperate for the toilet – a look that Fun Gus took as a sign of weakness and vulnerability.

The mushroom fan (or “mycophile”) hurled the toxic mushroom he was holding at the captain, who easily dodged it. It was like the world’s worst food-based dodgeball championship. As Gus began to throw more mushrooms, Captain Clean started swinging the belt around. Rather than swing it like a propellor to create a shield like any normal person who happened to be fighting a mushroom-throwing maniac might do, he instead just swung randomly, like an amateur lion tamer. Fortunately, his efforts paid off, with the belt deflecting a few of the mushrooms.

‘Blimey, this is actually working,’ the Captain muttered to himself.

Flush and Gavin were still watching the grim fighter work, but seeing that he wasn’t making much ground, Flush decided to try and help his colleague out, sneaking forward to quietly give him some much needed advice.

‘Cap it might work better if-‘ he began, but got cut off as the belt swung backwards and hit him in the head, knocking him out.

He collapsed to the floor, causing Captain Clean to turn around and see what he’d done.

‘Oh crap! Flush!’ he cried.

‘Look out!’ called Gavin, who could see Fun Gus about to take advantage of the captain’s momentary distraction.

Fun Gus threw another mushroom, but the captain quickly lifted up his cape to deflect it. It was then that he realised this would’ve been a much safer tactic than the belt.

However, Gavin calling out had drawn Gus’s attention to him, and he threw several mushrooms in Gavin’s direction. Not being trained in any form of martial art that specialised in blocking airborne mushrooms, Gavin was unable to avoid the barrage and was hit by no less than three mushrooms. At first he seemed okay, as they just bounced off him, but before he could shout over “Don’t worry, I’m okay” he started to feel light headed, then a shortness of breath. He clutched his chest, trying to breath, but his wheezes coming out like a broken vacuum cleaner. His chest felt tight and his throat closed up. He stumbled back against the wall and slumped down on the floor. Captain Clean rushed over to him, but stopped midway as more mushrooms flew through the air. He knew Gus wouldn’t stop to let him help the poor car salesman, so he once again raised his cape to cover himself and slowly moved towards the direction the mushrooms were coming from. He felt them pounding at the cape, like rain on a cheap tent, but persisted forwards. He couldn’t see where he was going, but he used the mushrooms like a sonar system. He felt he was getting close when suddenly the thuds on the cape stopped. He paused in his tracks for a few seconds, wondering what it meant and what he should do. Eventually he lowered his cape and saw that Fun Gus was no longer there. There was just an empty duffel bag on the floor.

‘The coward,’ said Captain Clean, almost triumphantly. ‘He must’ve known I was too strong for him.’

In truth, Gus had merely run out of mushrooms and fled to restock. But at least now Captain Clean could attend to Gavin and Flush, who was just coming around while the former was getting worse.

‘Wh- what happened?’ asked Flush groggily.

‘Oh, um… Fun Gus through a rock thinking it was a mushroom and it hit you in the head,’ the captain replied. ‘He’s gone, ran away in fear when he saw me, but Gary’s hit. Help me get him to the taxi.’

Flush pulled himself up and together they picked up Gavin, Flush holding his legs while Captain carried him under his arms. They started to walk back towards the taxi, but Captain Clean suddenly stopped.

‘Wait!’ he cried, dropping his end of Gavin, causing the car salesman to drop to the ground with a thud.

Captain Clean took out a small clear plastic bag and picked up a few mushrooms with it.

‘I’ll take these back for HyJean to analyse,’ he explained as he pocketed the bag and picked Gavin back up.

It was a slow walk back to the taxi, as Flush was still recovering and they had the extra challenge of carrying a man wearing a lot of hair gel. But finally they arrived, placing Gavin down on the back seat.

‘I don’t think you should drive just yet,’ said the captain. ‘I’ll take the wheel.’

‘Can you even drive?’ asked Flush.

‘Sure. I had a few lessons when I was young, and it’s just like riding a bike, only with more wheels,’ said the captain as he climbed into the driver’s seat.

Flush was reluctant, but as his head was still a little fuzzy and there was now a wheezing man lying on his lap, he had little other choice. He put his seatbelt on and the captain started the engine. He put his foot down and the taxi sped off… backwards. Into a wall. There was a crash and a clang as the rear bumper fell off and the captain looked around pretending to be surprised.

‘These taxis are so weird… totally different… controls,’ he said with an embarrassed shrug. ‘Don’t worry, I think I’ve got it now.’

The captain pressed a button confidently and the windscreen wipers started swishing from side to side on the other side of the windscreen.

‘I think maybe I should drive,’ said Flush.

‘Yeah, I think you should,’ the captain nodded, quickly abandoning his seat.

 

 

The taxi cab screeched to a halt as it pulled into the community centre car park. Flush jumped out and opened the door for Captain Clean, who was sat in the back holding a weary Gavin in one hand and the taxi’s rear bumper in the other. Flush helped them out and between them they carried Gavin over to the entrance.

‘Oh no,’ groaned the captain.

‘What?’ asked Flush.

‘That bloody pigeon man is back,’ said the captain, gesturing up to the roof, where the man in the grey hoodie sat perched on the ledge.

‘It doesn’t matter, we need to get Gavin help,’ said Flush.

‘Doesn’t matter? He’s causing a nuisance!’ the Captain replied. ‘I’m going to sort him out once and for all.’

‘Alright, great,’ sighed Flush. ‘But first we need to get him inside. Come on.’

Flush pulled them away and they entered through the automatic doors, Gavin draped between them groaning with raspy exhales.

‘Afternoon lads, what’s wrong with your friend there?’ asked Carol the receptionist.

‘He’s been infected,’ explained the captain.

‘Infected?’ Carol repeated with a gasp. ‘He’s not contagious is he?’

‘He could well be,’ said the captain. ‘In fact, I think it’s highly likely.’

‘What?’ gasped Carol. ‘You can’t bring him in here! We’ve got kids and families in here.’

‘Don’t worry, he’s joking,’ said Flush quickly. ‘Our mate’s just had a few too many to drink and needs a bit of rest.’

‘Oh, I see,’ said Carol. ‘It’s a bit early to be drinking that much isn’t it?’

‘Try telling him that,’ Flush replied with a nervous chuckle.

They quickly passed through the reception area and over to the elevator, which would be easier than dragging a half-conscious car salesman up the stairs. They waited impatiently, tapping their feet and drumming their fingers on their legs. Things were made even worse when Captain Clean spotted Tianna, who ran the kids’ craft club, heading their way. She often tried to engage in conversation with the captain, trying to get him to join the club as a guest to entertain the children, but he was vehemently against the idea and easily irritated by her bright and cheerful nature.

‘Come on, come on,’ the captain muttered.

Eventually the elevator doors opened and the captain practically threw Gavin inside.

‘Quick, get him in,’ he said as he dragged Flush in with him and slammed furiously on the button to close the door.

‘Oh Captain, hi!’ cooed Tianna, but that was all she managed to get out before the doors closed on her.

‘She’s not that bad, y’know,’ said Flush, seeing the captain breathe a sigh of relief.

‘She keeps asking me if I’ve got any spare toilet roll tubes,’ he replied. ‘Does she think we’ve all got the runs or something?’

‘Well, you do wear what looks like toilet roll on your head, she probably thinks you get through a fair bit,’ Flush reasoned. ‘Anyway, I think she’s alright.’

‘Oh, you just fancy her,’ said the captain with a tone of disapproval in his voice.

‘Cap, I don’t fancy every woman that works here,’ Flush replied, pausing or a moment before adding, ‘She is cute though.’

The elevator pinged as it juddered to a stop. The doors opened and they once again heaved Gavin down the corridor and into the base. HyJean was already waiting for them, as the captain had called her on the way back to warn her to expect them.

‘How is he?’ she asked as she rushed over to them.

‘He’s bostin,’ Flush replied. ‘We had to stop him from cartwheeling in here.’

HyJean ignored Flush’s comments and turned to the captain as they took him into HyJean’s office-come-laboratory, where she had prepared a table and some equipment to run tests on him.

‘He’s covered in these mushrooms and struggling to breathe,’ the captain explained. ‘And his hair is really sticky, but I don’t think that’s to do with the mushrooms.’

‘Get him onto the table and I’ll give him a look over,’ she instructed. ‘Are you both okay?’

‘Yeah, we’re fine,’ said the captain as he helped lift Gavin onto the table.

‘Speak for yourself, I got hit in the head with a rock,’ said Flush.

‘Oh, poor baby, did you get a widdle bump on the head?’ said HyJean in a mocking tone, before quickly turning serious again. ‘There’s a man potentially dying here. Go on, let me work. And leave those mushrooms, I want to analyse them.’

The two men nodded and the captain placed the sealed plastic bag with the mushrooms in on the desk before leaving. As they left, they heard HyJean politely giving MOP instructions to analyse the mushrooms while she focused on Gavin.

‘What are we going to do now?’ asked Flush.

‘First thing’s first, I need to start planning a way to stop that pigeon man on the roof,’ said the captain, heading straight for his office.

‘I meant about Fun Gus,’ Flush called after him. ‘He’s still out there somewhere!’

‘Then go stop him, I’ve got more important things to worry about,’ the captain replied. ‘You can take Faucet and Mary with you, they should be finished with their training now. But make sure the training room is clean before you go!’

Flush made his way over to the training room, knocking on the door and poking his head around. Faucet was busy wiping the window, while Mary was mopping the floor.

‘Hey guys, how’s it going?’ he asked.

‘I think we’ve finally gotten rid of the smell,’ said Mary.

‘Oh, cool. That’s good,’ he replied, turning to Faucet. ‘I wasn’t to say anything dude. Didn’t want to offend you.’

‘She’s on about the bins,’ Faucet snapped. ‘I don’t stink… do I?’

‘Well, the living room did smell a bit this morning,’ Flush shrugged.

‘That’s because you didn’t wash up after your curry and left it there overnight,’ Faucet replied.

‘Shhh! Don’t talk about me not washing up,’ Flush replied in a hushed whisper. ‘I don’t want another lecture off Cap.’

‘You’ll get a lecture off me if you keep insulting people when it’s your own mistakes,’ said Mary.

‘Alright, I’m sorry,’ Flush replied. ‘Look, we’ve got to go stop this Fun Gus guy. Cap and HyJean are busy, so it’s up to us. I’ll fill you in on the way.’

‘The captain thinks I’m ready for an actual mission?’ asked Mary, with an excited gasp.

‘Uh… yeah, sure. Totally ready,’ nodded Flush, who knew that the captain had been too preoccupied to realise what he was saying.

‘But what about this training exercise?’ Faucet asked. ‘We’ve just spent ages fishing through trash and then cleaning it all up, isn’t the Captain going to review our work?’

‘You actually did that? Wow,’ Flush chuckled. ‘Nah, he’s too busy trying to get rid of the pigeon guy. He’s a great man is Cap, but very easily distracted.’

‘So we did all that for nothing?’ asked Mary, folding her arms in an act of frustration.

‘Of course not,’ said Flush. ‘You learnt a valuable lesson.’

‘What lesson was that?’ asked Faucet.

‘Not to waste time doing Cap’s stupid training exercises,’ said Flush with a grin. ‘C’mon, let’s go fight some fungi.’

 

 

They three grime fighters drove slowly around the town centre in the taxi – which Flush insisted still counted as a test drive. The plan was to drive around until they heard news about Fun Gus, though there was no sign of him anywhere. They had stopped off at Happy Happy Burger for a snack, with the back of the cab providing ample room for them to dine. But after nearly an hour of patrolling, they were getting bored.

‘Turn radio the radio on,’ suggested Faucet, who was getting tired of hearing about Mary’s new washing machine for the third time.

‘Good shout,’ said Flush, who turned the radio on. It buzzed a little as it turned on, but no music or voices played. He fiddled with the knob trying to find a station, but to no avail.

‘Must be broken,’ he said with an air of disappointment.

However, just as he was about to give up, there was a hiss and finally a voice spoke.

‘Calling all officers, Fun Gus spotted in Filtham City Centre, currently in Chanterelle Square. Approach with caution.’

The three grime fighters looked at each other, speechless.

‘But…’ said Flush.

‘That…’ began Mary.

‘Did…’ added Faucet.

‘Holy airwaves, Batman! This thing picks up the police radio!’ Flush cried, bouncing up and down in his chair with excitement.

‘We should notify the police,’ said Mary.

‘Not flippin’ likely,’ said Flush.

‘I’m with Flush,’ said Faucet. ‘This could really help us out with catching bad guys.’

‘Exactly,’ said Flush. ‘And what the police don’t know won’t hurt them.’

‘But we could be arrested… I think,’ said Mary.

‘We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. Or just pretend we thought it was a radio four drama,’ said Flush. ‘But right now, we’ve got to get to Chanterelle Square! Which is actually back in that direction, so I’ll need to do a U-turn.’

After a quick turn around, the taxi made its way to the crime scene, which wasn’t too far away. There was even a handy parking space for them when they arrived. They climbed out of the cab and analysed the scene. Several members of the police were already there, but keeping their distance from Fun Gus, who was standing on a small plinth holding up a handful of mushrooms. He was now sporting another duffel bag, once again bursting with poisonous mushrooms. Despite his plentiful supply, he was being more conservative with his stock, seemingly using them only to intimidate

Flush spotted Officer Down hiding behind a police car door and the three grime fighters swiftly snuck over to him.

‘Hey Sid, how’s it going?’ he asked.

‘Oh, it’s you guys,’ he replied. ‘Thank god, we’re in way over our heads.’

‘No change there then,’ he muttered. ‘So, what’s the sitch?’

‘The what?’ asked the officer.

‘The sitch. The situation,’ Flush explained. ‘I thought you guys liked coded and abbreviations? Ten four. Rodger Dodger.’

‘Oh, well he’s not really doing much,’ replied Officer Down. ‘He’s only throwing mushrooms if someone coaches him… uh, approaches him.’

‘He must be being more conservative with them after running out last time,’ suggested Mary.

‘How about that; a criminal who learns from his mistakes,’ said Flush.

Indeed, the criminal classes of Filtham did not seem to be the brightest bunch. It was a mercy for which the Sanitary Squad was eternally grateful.

‘So, what’s the plan?’ asked Faucet.

‘Why are you asking me?’ Flush replied, a little surprised.

‘Because you’re the most experienced grime fighter here,’ Faucet pointed out.

‘Good point,’ said Flush. ‘Okay, well, since he’s a bit calmer now, maybe we can try talking to him. Mary, you come with me, you’re good with people. Faucet, you hang back in case we need backup.’

‘Got it,’ said Faucet.

‘Let’s go,’ said Mary, lifting up her brick-laden handbag.

They walked forward cautiously, slowly making their way towards Fun Gus. He saw them – because, like most humans, his vision was based on movement – and stared at them, tightening his grip slightly on the mushroom he was holding.

‘Hey dude,’ said Flush in the friendliest tone he could. ‘We don’t want to hurt you, we just want to talk.’

Fun Gus stayed still, looking like a human statue stood there on the plinth. Were there a cap on the floor, he might’ve made a bit of money.

‘We could talk about mushrooms if you like?’ Flush suggested. ‘You a fan of shiitake mushrooms?’

Fun Gus raised his arm, ready to throw, but Mary quickly stepped in.

‘We can help you,’ she said. ‘We know someone who’s very good at science, she can fix your condition. You just need to come with us.’

Fun Gus seemed to snap at this point and hurled the mushroom at Mary. Acting quickly, she lifted her handbag up, using it as a shield to block the mushroom. He threw another one and she blocked it expertly. He threw one at Flush, but Mary leaned over and blocked it too.

‘Wow, you’ve got great reflexes,’ said Flush.

‘I was the British badminton champion for three years in a row,’ Mary explained.

‘You’ve never mentioned that before,’ said Flush.

‘It’s never been relevant to the situation before,’ said Mary.

They continued to inch towards Fun Gus, Mary blocking any mushrooms while they called over to him.

‘Why are you doing this?’ she asked. ‘What do you want?’

‘I want people to suffer!’ Fun Gus replied.

‘But why?’ asked Flush.

‘Because they made me suffer,’ Fun Gus explained. ‘And now they need to pay.’

‘Everyone? Not everyone hurt you,’ argued Flush.

‘No, but they will. One day,’ he replied. ‘People are bad. They need to suffer!’

‘But you’re killing people!’ cried Mary.

‘They won’t die,’ Fun Gus replied. ‘Just struggle to live.’

‘But what about people with asthma?’ asked Mary.

‘That’s their fault!’ Fun Gus shouted.

‘Yeah, this guy is bonkers. No way we can reason with him,’ Flush said quietly to Mary, before turning back to Faucet. ‘Faucet! Spray him!’

Faucet nodded and ran forward, lifting both arms up and setting off two jets of water aimed directly at Fun Gus. The villain raised his arms and spluttered as he was hit with a barrage of water. He tried to maintain his position on the plinth, but it became too slippery and the pressure of the water became too much. He stumbled back and fell off the plinth, landing behind it with a splash.

‘Nice work,’ Flush called as they rushed forward to see what effect the water attack had had. The three of them looked down and saw Fun Gus lying on the floor. He was not unconscious, but he lay still as his body shuddered and the tiny mushrooms that were all over his skin bulged and grew to twice the size. As they grew, they pressed together, covering the skin like a fungal armour.

‘Uh oh, I think we might have made things worse,’ said Flush.

Fun Gus let out a croaky roar and ripped one of the mushrooms off his arm. Another one grew in its place almost instantly while he tossed the other one, with some considerable force, towards the grime fighters. Mary managed to block it with her handbag, but only just.

‘Yep, definitely made things worse,’ said Faucet. ‘What are we gonna do now?’

‘Quick, fall back,’ cried Flush.

They swiftly made their way back to the police cars, hiding behind one as Flush took out his phone and called HyJean. The others kept a watch as Fun Gus pulled himself up and lolloped forward, the weight of the mushrooms clearly weighing him down a little. He ripped one of the mushrooms off his arm and threw it in the direction of the police. As it landed on the floor, it shattered and a cluster of tiny mushrooms shot out in every direction.

‘C’mon, pick up! Pick up, pick up, pick up!, Flush shouted at his phone. When she finally answered, he put her on loudspeaker and spoke quickly. ‘Hey HyJean. Okay, so slight problem. Faucet sprayed Fun Gus with water and now the mushrooms have grown and he’s even more powerful.’

‘You what? No! Don’t make him wet, that’ll just help them grow,’ HyJean groaned. ‘Okay, you need to try and suck the moisture out of him. Have you got any dehumidifier bombs?’

Flush looked at Mary and Faucet who just shrugged, not even knowing what a dehumidifier bomb was.

‘Nope, we’ve got none,’ Flush replied.

‘I’ve got an idea,’ said Faucet quietly.

‘Faucet said he’s got an idea,’ said Flush down the phone.

‘Is it dangerous?’ asked HyJean.

‘Oooh yeah,’ Faucet replied.

‘Then you mustn’t do it!’ HyJean called down the phone. ‘That’s an order.’

‘Yeah, he’s already gone,’ said Flush.

And he was right. Faucet was running towards Fun Gus, dodging mushrooms by darting out of the way or spraying them with shots of water. When he finally reached Fun Gus, Faucet flung his arms around the fungal villain. He squeezed him tight, whilst also tensing up his body and breathing in deeply. As he wrestled to keep hold of Fun Gus, Faucet could feel himself absorbing the moisture from his mushroom-covered body. The mushrooms started to spread to his body, covering his exposed hands. He held tight, his body aching with the pressure and his breaths becoming weaker as the mushrooms took effect. As the seconds passed and the moisture was pulled from the mushrooms, they started to dry out and shrivel up. Before long, they were all dried out and turned to dust, falling off both of their bodies. The two men let out an exhausted sigh and collapsed to the ground.

‘Faucet!’ Mary cried out.

She and Flush ran over to them. Flush dropped to the ground and examined both men, feeling for a pulse and checking their breathing.

‘They’re still breathing,’ he said, looking up at Mary. ‘We need to get them back to the base.’

As the police began to gather round them, finally acting now that the threat was dealt with, Mary begged them to help carry the Faucet and Fun Gus back to the taxi. Many of them refused, still weary of touching Fun Gus, but a couple were brave enough. One of them was Officer Down, who would accidentally drop Faucet twice and make a wrong turning that delayed them even further. But eventually they got back to the base. Eventually.

 

 

Inside the base, there was a knock on Captain Clean’s office door. HyJean opened it and poked her head inside.

‘Hey Cap, the others are on their way… what on Earth are you doing?’ she asked as she saw the mess that the office was in. There were books on birds sprawled out on the floor, a large net dangling from the ceiling, poles and rods on the desk and rolls of gaffer tape scattered around.

‘If I fire the stun gun at him, I can stop him before he can get away,’ he said, holding up a cross bow that he’d gaffer taped a taser to. ‘Then I’ll use the fishing rod to release the net to catch him and reel him in.’

‘I think you’re getting a little bit too obsessed with this now,’ she replied, looking slightly worried at the captain’s manic condition.

‘Obsessed? Obsessed?!’ he replied, staring at her manically as he tore down a picture of a giant robot pigeon that he’d drawn as another plan off the wall. ‘This man needs to be stopped!’

‘You need to let it go. We’ve got more important things to worry about,’ said HyJean. ‘Flush and Mary are on their way back with Faucet and Fun Gus. They’ve stopped him, but Faucet is hurt. I might need you.’

‘You’ll be fine, I’m never any help,’ the captain said flippantly, waving her away. Whilst usually full of naïve confidence about his abilities, this statement, while true, surprised HyJean. She felt it would be rude to agree, but she didn’t know what to say. Thankfully, the captain continued and she didn’t need to say anything. ‘Go on, I need to finish this.’

‘Right, I’ll leave you to it then,’ she said, closing the door behind her.

 

 

Getting Faucet and Fun Gus up to the base wasn’t much of a problem. Flush and HyJean carried Faucet while Mary was had help carrying Fun Gus from Brian, who worked in reception and was always happy for an opportunity to show off his average strength. Brian was even allowed inside the base, since Captain Clean was too busy to object. But to keep the inside secret, Brian was made to wear a makeshift blindfold made from his tie, meaning several walls and chairs were bumped into. They eventually got Faucet and Fun Gus lying down on the main central table. While both were still unconscious, the tiny spores were beginning to grow on Fun Gus’s skin again.

‘I’ve just finished the antidote and it’s worked on the car salesman. MOP’s bringing it now,’ she explained as MOP trundled in carrying two syringes. ‘Thank you MOP.’

But the robot continued past her and, with its metal arms outstretched, drove the needles into the legs of Flush and Brian.

‘Aargh!’ cried Flush. ‘Not me, you idiot.’

‘Ouch! My leg!’ cried Brian, who was still wearing . ‘What’s happening? Are we being drugged? Kidnapped? Please, I can’t die, I’m the only one who knows how to use the fax machine!’

‘Calm down,’ said HyJean, quickly removing the needles. ‘It’s just an antidote, you’ll be fine. If anything it’ll keep you safe if Fun Gus here goes off on one again. So you might say that MOP has used his initiative and helped you.’

‘Yeah, I don’t think I would say that,’ grumbled Flush.

HyJean went to her office and retrieved another pair of syringes. Upon her return, she injected Gus with the antidote. She hesitated before giving it to Faucet.

‘I’ve no idea how this will react with his unique blood,’ she said. ‘I’ve no way of testing it. I don’t know if he even needs it, he hasn’t got any mushrooms on his body. But he might have absorbed some that might be inside of him.’

‘Give it to him,’ came the reply in a familiarly hoarse voice. Gus had woken up, but was still lying on the table with his eyes closed.

‘You would say that,’ said Flush. ‘You’re probably trying to kill him.’

‘I’m not,’ Gus replied, slowly opening his eyes. ‘I want to help him. If he absorbed all the moisture in the mushrooms, they will have entered into his blood stream via the pores on his body.’

‘How do we know we can trust you?’ asked HyJean, who was still weary of the criminal lying on their table.

‘Because the weird feeling that possessed me has gone,’ he replied. ‘It’s all a bit of a haze. The last thing I remember was being with my friends trying the mushrooms. But whatever’s happened since, I’m back to normal again now. And I want to help your friend.’

‘I think we should do it,’ said HyJean.

‘Me too,’ said ‘Mary.

‘Am I going to get superpowers now?’ asked Brian.

‘No,’ said Flush. ‘Go on HyJean, do it.’

She injected Faucet with the antidote and they waited. It must have taken longer to get into his system and spread around his body, as he was still out for a few very tense minutes, but finally he woke up, not with a start, but with a groggy groan.

‘Urgh, where am I?’ he asked. ‘What happened?’

‘You’re back in the base,’ said HyJean.

‘And what happened is you used your powers to take down one of Filtham’s craziest villains,’ said Flush.

‘Hey, I am here y’know,’ said Gus, who was now sitting in a chair at the table. Mary had escorted Brian back downstairs, keeping the blindfold on until he was back in reception, as she wasn’t sure how much he was allowed to see.

‘Indeed you are,’ said HyJean, turning to Gus. ‘And I’m afraid we’ll have to put you in a cell until the police can come and get you. Flush?’

‘On it,’ said Flush, moving round to pull Gus up by the scruff of his tatty, stained vest. ‘Come on sunshine, you’re nicked.’

‘I can get up myself,’ said Gus, batting him away and standing up. He followed Flush down the corridor to the cells and sat inside one with minimal fuss. Flush closed the glass door and leaned against it.

‘So you don’t remember anything?’ asked Flush.

‘I remember bits,’ said Gus. ‘It’s starting to come to me. We were in town. I was throwing mushrooms at people. You were there. And a man with… with toilet roll wrapped around his head.’

‘Those mushrooms you were throwing at people were toxic. They made mushrooms grow on their skin and they struggled to breathe,’ Flush explained.

‘Did… did anyone die?’ asked Gus.

‘I dunno, we haven’t checked,’ he replied. ‘But it’s been on the news that a lot of people are in hospital.’

‘I… I’m sorry,’ Gus replied, hardly able to talk at all. His eyes teared up and he turned away from Flush to hide his face.

‘Yeah, well… just don’t do it again,’ Flush replied, unsure what to say. ‘We’ll be back in a bit.’

Flush, feeling a little awkward having seen the genuine remorse from the young man they’d not so long ago been fighting, left the cells and walked back to the main room to check on Faucet and Gavin whilst waiting for the police to arrive.

‘Hey, how are you guys doing?’ he asked as he entered the main room. The two recovering victims were sat at the table with mugs of tea that neither really wanted.

‘Not too bad, thanks,’ said Faucet. ‘HyJean and Marigold have gone to deliver the antidote to the hospital. They’ve put a message out for anyone infected to go there.’

‘God knows how many others there are,’ said Flush, taking a seat. ‘How are you holding up, Gary?’

‘My name is Gavin,’ said Gavin. ‘And quite frankly, this has been one of the craziest days of my life. But it was actually quite exciting being out there seeing the action up close.’

‘Has it inspired you to become a grime fighter too?’ asked Faucet.

‘Oh god no,’ said Gavin. ‘Though to be honest, I might have to look for a new job after today.’

‘Nah, we’ll sort it out,’ said Flush. ‘We’ll tell them you helped us and saved the city. And we’ll buy the taxi too, so you’ve made a sale.’

‘Thanks man, appreciate it,’ said Gavin.

‘No worries, least we can do,’ Flush replied. ‘We’ve all had a pretty rough day, huh? You got poisoned with mushrooms, Faucet nearly dried out to death, and I got knocked out with a rock to the head.’

‘A rock to the head? No, the toilet roll man – Captain Clean was it? – he hit you with the belt when he was swinging it around,’ Gavin explained.

‘He did what?’ said Flush, a little confused, thinking back to try and remember what happened before he passed out. ‘Wait a minute, you’re right! That lying git. I’ll have him for that later.’

They sat and chatted for a while, Gavin asking more about their adventures and talking about the latest cars and the usual things lads talk about when they get together. Football also came up, but there was a distinct air that all three were bluffing their way through the conversation and just naming footballers they vaguely remembered hearing about. But, the act of talking served to relax the trio and help them forget a little about the traumatic events of the day. Captain Clean, meanwhile, was still busy working in his office, with the occasional noises and clanging or the odd cry of either excitement or anguish coming from the room. It wasn’t long before HyJean returned from the hospital, where they had distributed the antidote and the formula, should they need more.

‘Are you sure his name is Sergio Pepperoni?’ Gavin was asking as HyJean entered.

‘I dunno, I might just be getting hungry,’ Flush replied, before turning to HyJean. ‘Hey, how’d it go at the hospital?’

‘Good. They’ve estimated around sixty victims have been brought in,’ she replied, taking off her mask. ‘But none of them fatal, and they’ve got the antidote now so everyone should be fine. How is Gus?’

‘He’s been pretty quiet actually,’ said Faucet.

‘Yeah, he seemed pretty cut up about what he’d done when I spoke to him,’ said Flush. ‘Oh, and he told me that it was Cap that knocked me out. Hit me when he was swinging a belt around.’

‘That doesn’t surprise me,’ said HyJean with a roll of her eyes as she headed to the cells. She walked down the corridor and looked inside the cell. It was empty. The cell next to it was empty too. And they only had two cells and both doors were ajar. She retreated down the corridor considerably quicker than she’d entered it.

‘Uh guys, he’s not in here,’ she called over to the table.

‘What? I put him in there myself,’ said Flush, springing up from his seat.

‘He can’t have come this way, we’d have seen him,’ added Faucet, rising from his chair.

‘Oh god, he’s not going to throw mushrooms at me again, is he?’ asked Gavin, jumping up from his seat and practically hiding behind it.

‘Where could he have gone then?’ asked HyJean.

The four of them looked around the base, trying to spot any sign of Gus. It was like a higher stake version of Where’s Wally, only less interesting. Suddenly, Flush clicked his fingers.

‘The fire escape,’ he said, rushing over to entrance to the corridor that led to the cells. Halfway down the corridor was a fire exit door that led out to a set of metal stairs that led up to the roof of the building. The three grime fighters quickly made their way up the stairs, with Gavin opting to stay behind in the sanctity of the base.

Up on the roof, they finally found who they had been looking for. Standing on the ledge, teetering on the edge of the roof, was Gus. Flush made to move forward, but HyJean put her arm out to stop him and held a finger up to be quiet. She gestured to the giant pigeon who was perched on the ledge next to him. Or rather a man dressed to look like a giant pigeon. He was talking to Gus in a soft, friendly voice.

‘So you see, it wasn’t really you who did all those things,’ the pigeon man said. ‘You weren’t in control. But you are now. And once you’ve served your time, you can make amends. Maybe study microbiology?’

‘No, I don’t want anything to do with mushrooms ever again,’ said Gus, stepping back off the ledge onto the roof. ‘Thanks mister. And I hope your pigeon crusade works. You’re right, they aren’t that bad really.’

The pigeon man nodded and smiled, ‘When you get out, come find me.’

‘I will,’ said Gus, nodding back before walking over to the squad to face his fate in the hands of the law.

Before he got to them, however, the roof door swung open, and a crazed-looking Captain Clean ran out. He was covered in wires and string and cardboard tubes, all taped to his body, and a large net suspended high above him on a fishing rod. He sprinted past his fellow grime fighters and pushed Gus out of the way as he made for his target.

‘I’ll get you this time!’ he shouted as he pulled on a cord that pulled back a spring that launched the net into the air and towards the pigeon man. While that contraption was doing its thing, he threw a home-made bolas – a rope with three balls attached designed to catch animals by entangling their legs – across the roof and blew loudly on a whistle to frighten any pigeons in the way.

The pigeon man merely looked back at Gus and gave him a wink, before spreading his wings and jumping off the building, gliding down onto the ground below.

‘Nooo!’ cried the captain as he skidded to a halt at the edge of the roof. As he watched the pigeon man run away, the large net floated down and draped over him. Caught by his own invention, he let out a heavy sigh and dropped to his knees.

‘Don’t worry sir, he won’t be back,’ said Gus as he helped the other grime fighters pull the net off the captain. ‘He told me this was his last day. He only needs to stick around for a week for the pigeons to make a place their home. He’ll move onto somewhere else now.’

‘Well, he’d better be careful,’ said the captain, picking up his bolas. ‘Because if I ever see him again, I will turn him into pigeon pie.’

‘You’re going to kill him?’ asked Faucet.

‘No, no, of course not. I was just trying to sound threatening,’ said the captain, who then gestured to Gus. ‘Who’s this guy anyway?’

‘Fun Gus,’ Flush explained. ‘Who we’ve been trying to stop all day.’

‘Oh yeah, I remember,’ said the captain. ‘Wait, shouldn’t we all be running away from him?’

‘No, he’s fine, I formulated an antidote that’s cured everyone,’ said HyJean.

‘Oh, good work, HyJean,’ said the captain. ‘But he still needs to go to jail. He was going mental throwing those mushrooms around and making people sick.’

‘I know,’ said Gus. ‘I accept what I did, even if it wasn’t me doing it. I will hand myself in.’

‘I’ll take him when I drop Gavin off,’ said Flush.

‘Who’s Gavin?’ asked the captain, even more confused this time.

‘I’m Gavin!’ came a booming voice from the other side of the roof. The assembled group of grime fighters and one repentant criminal turned around to see Gavin the salesman standing in the doorway, wearing a mask and cape that billowed in the slight breeze. ‘But you can call me, Captain Cool!’

There was a stunned silence as they took in what was happening, all standing with jaws dropped staring at the man in the suit dressed up as a superhero. It looked like something taken straight out of a comic book panel. A bad one. Finally, it was Captain Clean who broke the silence.

‘Absolutely not!’ said the captain sternly, holding his arms up in an X shape. ‘Not with that hair. Have you any idea how bad using that much gel is? It will attract dust and dirt and block your pores. Not to mention how many microplastics and harsh chemicals are used in those gels. That’s not a hairstyle, that’s a biohazard!’