The Truth Hurts

It was early morning, and Mary Goldman was feeling happier than she had done in months. She had gotten used to arriving alone now, without her husband by her side. She’d also noticed that she was arriving at work earlier these days, which made her suspect that it was in fact Mick who had been slow getting ready and not, as he so often said, her. Today, she was wearing a flowery dress as usual, but was also kitted out in a home-made eye mask that she’d wrapped around her head and a cape made from a bedsheet that reached just below her hips. The ensemble was finished off with a pair of leather marigold gloves that her husband had once bought her as a bit of a jokey present one birthday. They were sold in shops as a gift for people who thought their friends were obsessed with washing up, when really it was more likely that the friend just didn’t like their company and spent most of the evening in the kitchen washing up to avoid having to speak to them. It’s a good technique, as even if the boring friend does follow them in to talk, the host can just make more noise clattering plates or give them the odd “accidental” splash of water that drenches their feet. But Mary had been given them for a different reason. Mick had coined a nickname for her after noticing that if he combined her forename with the first half of her surname it sounded a lot like Marigold. She was now using this moniker as an alias for her new job as a grime fighter. Today was her first official day in the role, and she was excited as she entered the Filtham Community Centre and greeted the plump woman with the blonde bob at the reception desk.

‘Good morning, Carol,’ Mary said brightly, pausing expectantly at the reception desk to see if any of the people behind the desk would comment on her new costume.

‘Good morning,’ said Carol looking up from her computer and seemingly not recognising the woman in front of her. ‘How may I help you madam?’

‘Carol, it’s me, from upstairs,’ said Mary, a little taken aback by the lack of recognition.

‘Oh, are you with the sanitary squad? That would make sense given the outfit,’ Carol said, eyeing up the mask and cape. ‘Are you a new member?’

‘No, it’s me, Mary,’ said Mary, looking a little confused. Carol was not the sharpest pencil in the stationery cupboard, but she was never this dim.

‘Mary?’ repeated Carol with a look of confusion. She shook her head, ‘I can’t say I’ve ever seen you around here before.’

‘I’ve worked here for over four years,’ said Mary, now starting to get irate. ‘Look.’

She took off her mask and Carol gave a shriek, physically jumping back in her seat in surprise.

‘Oh my god! Mary!’ she gasped. ‘I didn’t recognise you with that mask on.’

‘Really?’ Mary asked, looking down at the mask in her hands. She knew the mask was meant to help protect her identity, but she didn’t think it would be this effective.

‘Oh yes, it changes your whole appearance,’ Carol nodded. ‘Totally unrecognisable.”

Mary held the mask up to her face, covering her eyes.

‘Nope!’ cried Carol with amazement in her voice. ‘You’ve gone. It just… I can’t even see it’s you when you’re wearing that. How strange.’

‘Very strange,’ Mary agreed, lowering the mask again. Working with the squad for years, and being married to one of its members, she had never had any trouble identifying them. She wondered if the masks were really effective and she’d just become immune to their powers.

‘Has it got some special filter on it?’ Carol asked leaning forwards, intrigued as to what secrets she might uncover. ‘Some of Jean’s technical wizardry?’

‘No, it’s just a piece of cloth,’ said Mary, showing her the mask. It really was just as she said, a strip of cloth folded over a few times and sewn together, with two eye holes cut out.

‘Well, that’s extraordinary,’ said Carol with a chuckle. She gestured to put the mask back on and turned to her colleague. ‘Here Brian, come and look at this.’

The man wheeled over on his chair, shuffling and walking his chair slowly and awkwardly across the floor rather than just getting up and walking like any sane person would.

‘Look at this woman, do you recognise her?’ Carol asked, pointing to Mary.

Brian stared hard, then shook his head. ‘Nope, never seen her before in my life.’

‘It’s Mary,’ said Carol.

‘What? From upstairs,’ asked Brian, his brow furrowing as he took another look at Mary.

‘Yes, it’s her,’ Carol nodded.

‘No!’ he chucked. ‘You’re having me on. That’s not Mary. I’d recognise her anywhere.’

‘It is,’ Carol insisted excitedly. She turned back to Mary. ‘Go on, show him.’

Mary lowered the mask and got the same reaction from Brian. He let out a startled gasp and projected his chair back a few inches, crashing into a filing cabinet, which collapsed with a loud clang, as if it had fainted in disbelief at the revelation.

‘It’s her!’ Brian cried.

‘I know!’ cried Carol.

‘It’s Mary!’

‘I know!’

‘But… but how?’

‘It’s like magic.’

‘I uh, I think I’m just going to go upstairs now,’ said Mary with an awkward smile, giving them a little wave, before leaving the baffled receptionists to continue to one-up each other with their disbelief.

 

 

Upstairs, in Captain Clean’s office, the leader of the Sanitary Squad was hunched over his desk, chin resting on his hands. He’d reassembled the squad for the first time since Suds’ death, hoping that they could return to some sort of normality and resume their business of grime fighting, but now that it had come to it, he wasn’t sure if he could actually go through with it. It was as if his thoughts were being projected through the walls, as HyJean tapped on the door and stepped inside, closing the door behind her.

‘You okay?’ she asked softly.

‘Would you be surprised if I said no?’ he replied in a glum tone, his chin sticking to his hands like it was glued there.

‘Not really,’ said HyJean, stepping forwards and taking a seat in front of the desk. She too had a sombre look about her, but her expression didn’t dare compete with the captain’s level of sadness.

‘I just don’t know what to do,’ the captain sighed. ‘I thought I was ready, but… I don’t know.’

‘If we wait until we’re ready, we’ll be waiting for the rest of our lives,’ said HyJean.

‘That’s true,’ the captain nodded. ‘And very well put.

‘Thanks, I borrowed it from A Series Of Unfortunate Events. But it still stands,’ HyJean shrugged. ‘Besides, we don’t always have to come up with our own words of wisdom.’

‘I guess you’re right, but I could sure use some of that Jean Wilkes wisdom right now,’ said the captain, looking down at his desk as if it would somehow magically provide him with the courage he so desired. It was unlikely that it would, given that it was a cheap Ikea desk that he’d bought second hand off eBay. The more inspirational desks usually tend to cost a lot more. Like the ornate oak desk in the antique shop down the road that was just sitting, waiting to inspire some young writer with the words it had gathered over the decades. But for now it was just being used to present a globe, some books and something that the shopkeeper had no clue about but had still slapped a hefty price tag on.

‘Alright, look,’ said HyJean, shuffling forwards on her chair a little to speak to him directly, even though there was nobody else in the room. ‘Yes, Suds is gone. It’s a terrible thing, but we can’t change that. What we can do is continue his work and fight in his honour. He loved this silly little group of ours and I know, as I think you do, that he wouldn’t want us to stop just because he isn’t here. He wouldn’t want this to tear us apart. He’d want it to bring us together even closer, and fight harder for what he – what we all – believe in. We can do this. We can make him proud. Together.’

There was a moment of silence, during which the captain took in HyJean’s words and let them percolate in his mind. Then he did something he’d not done in a while. He smiled. Just a small smile, with a contented sigh, like a weight had been lifted. He sat up straight and took a deep breath.

‘That’s the kind of wisdom I was talking about,’ he said, rising from his chair. ‘Thanks Jean.’

Outside in the main room, Mary, Flush and Faucet were sat around the large central table chatting amongst themselves. Mary had filled them in on her heroics taking down Fleamont Brown and how the captain had agreed for her to train as a grime fighter and be part of the squad. She’d embellished the story a little, not so much out of ego, but more because she was getting on a bit and struggled to remember things accurately.

‘So, you’re a grime fighter now too?’ Faucet asked.

‘Yes,’ said Mary, proudly gesturing to her mask and cape.

‘That’s so cool,’ said Faucet excitedly, partly because he was happy for her, but also because it meant he was no longer the new guy.

‘Nice one, cocker,’ said Flush, giving her a supportive pat on the arm.

‘What’s your grime fighter name going to be?’ asked Faucet.

‘Marigold,’ said Mary with a little dramatic flair in her voice.

‘Oh, like the butter?’ said Flush.

‘What?’ asked Mary.

‘The butter,’ Flush repeated, clarifying his statement by saying the exact same words as he’d used before.

‘What are you on about?’ asked Faucet, genuinely confused as to what his fellow grime fighter was referring to.

‘Marigold butter,’ said Flush, as if it were obvious.

‘That’s Kerrygold butter, you idiot,’ said Faucet.

‘Oh, well sorry!’ said Flush sarcastically.

‘And besides, why would she name herself after a butter?’ Faucet continued. ‘She’s clearly wearing a pair of marigold gloves and it’s what Suds used to call her.’

‘Okay, okay! I get it,’ Flush sighed. ‘Jeez, sorry Faucet.’

‘Actually, I’ve changed my name now too,’ said Faucet, thinking quickly.

‘You have?’ asked a surprised Mary. ‘To what?’

‘Lurpack,’ said Faucet with a grin.

‘Ah, shut up,’ Flush groaned.

‘At least it’s better than I Can’t Believe It’s Not Faucet,’ Mary chuckled.

The spreadable wordplay was ended as Captain Clean and HyJean came out of the office. HyJean lingered just outside, letting the captain take the lead. He stood in front of them and cleared his throat. The group sat up to attention.

‘Okay, I have something I’d like to say,’ he said, taking a deep breath. ‘Yes, Suds is gone. It’s a terrible thing, but we can’t change that. What we can do is continue his work and fight in his honour. He loved this silly little group of ours and I know, as I think you do, that he wouldn’t want us to stop just because he isn’t here. He wouldn’t want this to tear us apart. He’d want it to bring us together even closer, and fight harder for what he – what we all – believe in. We can do this. We can make him proud. Together.’

A brief pause followed, as the grime fighters smiled back at him reassuringly.

‘Those were beautiful words captain,’ said Mary.

‘Very powerful,’ added Faucet.

‘Of course, they would’ve been even more powerful had Jean not given us exactly the same speech ten minutes ago,’ Flush pointed out. ‘But still.’

Captain Clean looked back at HyJean, who was covering her hand with her mouth to try and stifle her laughter.

‘You could’ve stopped me,’ he hissed quietly.

‘You made it your own,’ she chuckled.

‘Anyway, you’re both right,’ said Flush. ‘So, what’s our next mission? Jean said you’d got some details on this LAB group?’

‘Yes,’ the captain said, drawing a seat and joining them at the table. ‘Sal gave us the details of this man, Dr Sebastian Shoal.’

He presented the files from the folder that Sal Monella had given them. They contained several photos of a short, balding man in various laboratories, some with other people, others with him hunched over desks working, and one with him looking surprised as he ate a sandwich. There were also several documents detailing his name, job description and various activities that he had been involved in.

‘He’s a former marine biologist,’ he explained. ‘All his credentials check out and his previous work history is all kosher. But Sal believes he used to work for LAB If anyone can tell us more about them, it’s him. There’s an address in here, so HyJean, Faucet and I will go pay him a visit.’

‘Cool. What about me? What do I do?’ asked Flush.

‘Oh, you’ve got a much more important job to do,’ said HyJean, stepping over to finally join them.

‘I do?’ asked Flush.

‘Yes. Mary here needs training, and you are the most suitable candidate to teach her,’ she replied.

‘He is?’ asked Mary.

‘I am?’ asked Flush.

‘Well, when I say most suitable, I really mean most available,’ HyJean admitted with an apologetic shrug. ‘The three of us really need to look into this, so that just leaves you. Sorry, Mary.’

‘It’s okay, dear,’ said Mary. ‘I understand.’

‘Wait, why are you apologising?’ asked Flush, looking a little offended. ‘I’ll be a great teacher.’

‘I’m sure you will be, Will,’ said Mary, giving him a slightly condescending pat on the shoulder.

‘I have every… I have some confidence in you,’ said the captain, correcting himself. ‘And you’ve been here long enough, you have plenty of experience and wisdom to pass on.’

‘Well, experience anyway,’ said HyJean with a smirk.

‘Just you wait, I’ll show you what I can do,’ said Flush. ‘By the time you come back, she’ll be as tough as Batman, as fast as the Flash and as badass as Wonder Woman.’

‘Right, well you’ve got one afternoon, so good luck with that,’ said the captain.

 

 

Captain Clean, HyJean and Faucet stood looking at the ordinary looking house on the ordinary looking street as the far-from-ordinary taxi driver whizzed away from them. Being a driver that could drive at impossible speeds, he was in high demand, so never stuck around for long. Now, to the grime fighters standing there, it seemed strange; there was no air of darkness or mystery surrounding the house, just some unusual looking plants and a fence that had seen better days.

‘It’s odd, I was expecting… well, I don’t know what I was expecting, but it wasn’t this,’ said the captain.

‘Yeah, some kind of evil lair,’ said Faucet.

‘Now now, we don’t know that he actually is evil,’ said HyJean.

‘He worked for LAB and did experiments on people, sounds pretty evil to me,’ said Faucet.

‘Okay, but we don’t know the full story, so no going in there harassing him, you hear?’ HyJean said, speaking mainly to the captain.

‘Of course,’ nodded the captain. ‘I shall be polite and understanding.’

They opened the gate – which threatened to fall off its hinges if they used too much force – and made their way up the weed-ridden path. The captain tried to avoid the overgrown plants as much as he could, and sprayed the bell with an antibacterial spray before pressing it. They waited for a moment and then finally heard footsteps. The door opened to reveal a short man with a most peculiar appearance. He was balding, with whisps of grey hair, and though he looked old, his skin was surprisingly devoid of wrinkles. He wore old glasses that had frayed tape around both handles either side of the lenses. He clearly broke them regularly but refused to buy a new pair when his lenses worked fine – a habit of the thrifty and sentimental older generation. His neck was covered by a dark grey coat with a large collar, making it look like his head was emerging from a plant pot. He looked up at them through weary eyes.

‘Yes?’ he asked in a croaky, breathy voice with a slightly German accent. Not too German, just a hint of it, like he was born there but had left in his teenage years. Captain Clean winced when he heard it. He had never liked Germans. Not due to any xenophobic hatred, just because their country had the word “germ” in it, so he assumed it was unclean.

The captain lunged forward and grabbed him by the jacket, pinning him to the wall behind.

‘What do you know about LAB!’ the captain roared. ‘Tell me everything!’

‘That’s polite and understanding?’ said Faucet on the doorstep.

HyJean stepped in between the captain and Dr Shoal and prised them apart.

‘Get off him,’ she snapped at the captain, before turning back to the doctor and brushing down his jacket. ‘I’m so sorry. You’re Dr Shoal, I presume?’

‘Yes, I am indeed,’ said the short man. His voice was hoarse and croaky, like he struggled to utter every word he spoke. For a moment, the captain wondered if he’d been a little too rough and injured the doctor, but soon came to realise that his was just how the man spoke. His main focus seemed to be on fixing his collar and pulling it up a little, retreating down into it. ‘My name is Doctor Sebastian Shoal. And who are you?’

‘We’re the Sanitary Squad. We have a few questions we’d like to ask you, if we may,’ said HyJean in the calm and friendly tone that had she had originally planned to use. ‘It’s about our friend Faucet here.’

HyJean gestured to Faucet, who was still standing on the doorstep. When Dr Shoal spotted him, his eyes widened just slightly and he opened his mouth as if to speak, but said nothing. He turned back to HyJean, nodding a little nervously. ‘Very well, come in.’

He led them down a hall and into a kitchen that was cluttered with bits and bobs, knick-knacks and oddments. He turned a radio off and offered them a seat at a dining table. He put the kettle on and let it boil.

‘Would you like some tea?’ he asked, his voice remaining calm with a hint of nervousness behind it, like he’d been expecting this day for a while but now it was here he wasn’t sure what to do.

‘No thank you, I’m afraid you might poison it,’ said the captain bluntly.

HyJean slapped her forehead in disbelief, but the doctor merely nodded with no change of expression.

‘I understand.’

He turned the kettle off and took a seat at the table. All eyes were on him as the grime fighters took in his appearance and tried to size him up. Captain estimated about five foot two inches, but HyJean was a little more generous with a guess of five foot four. Faucet was too busy thinking about the offer of tea that he had wanted to accept and wondering if it was too late to ask for some.

‘Dr Shoal, we’re investigating LAB as we believe it might have been involved with the experiments which were done on Faucet,’ HyJean explained.

‘Experiments?’ the doctor asked, looking at Faucet as if waiting for proof.

Faucet took an empty glass, which was conveniently on the table next to him, and shot out a small stream of water from his wrist into it, filling it up and placing it down in front of Dr Shoal, who looked at it in amazement.

‘Fascinating,’ he muttered quietly as he took the glass and stared at it like he had never seen water before. Which, of course, he had when he had filled the kettle. But this wasn’t quite the same water. He wasn’t even sure if it was water.

‘We’d like to know more about LAB,’ HyJean continued. ‘Anything you could tell us would be much appreciated.’

‘Tell us everything you know,’ said the captain, banging his fist on the table, causing Faucet to jump a little.

The doctor considered their request and let out a deep sigh, exhaling an impossible amount of air, like he was about to shed a lot of weight that had been upon him for years. ‘What do you know of LAB?’ he asked.

‘Nothing much,’ said HyJean. ‘Only that it’s some kind of scientific organisation that did experiments on people.

The doctor clasped his hands together and nodded serenely.

‘You are correct. LAB stands for Life And Beyond,’ he explained. ‘It was an organisation established by a group of scientists who were obsessed with evolution. They wanted humans to evolve and become something better. Something stronger. I do not know much of their early work, but there were rumours of them experimenting on animals and insects, trying to harness their unique qualities and abilities, with a desire to eventually transfer these abilities to human subjects.’

‘And how did you get involved?’ asked HyJean as she took notes on her phone. The doctor frowned as he watched her, thinking she was texting someone or playing a game, but HyJean reassured him by showing him the notes and gesturing for him to continue.

‘I was working as a marine biologist and was known for my… inquisitive mind,’ the doctor explained. ‘I liked to push the boundaries of science, think outside the box and question what was possible. They approached me, said they had read a paper I had written that mentioned splicing fish genetics and combining them with human DNA, and offered to fund research into actually trying it. How could I refuse? They set me up with an office and I began my work. At first, it seemed perfectly ordinary, but then I… started noticing things.’

‘What sort of things?’ asked HyJean.

‘Strange noises. Screams,’ he replied. ‘People going missing. Chemicals we weren’t allowed to touch. And at one point one of the scientists walking around with a squid attached to his head. We called him Dr Squid.’

‘And what sort of experiments were you working on there?’ asked HyJean.

‘I was investigating certain types of fish with unique abilities. Peacock flounders, that have pigment-altering skin cells and can change colour in seconds; sawfish, that use electroreceptors to detect the faintest of sounds; hagfish, whose skin cells can produce a thick ooze to stop predators; Antarctic tooth fish who have freeze-resistant blood streams that can help them survive extreme…’

‘Alright, we get the idea, fish are great,’ snapped the captain.

‘Did any of these actually get to the stage of testing on humans?’ asked HyJean.

There was a long pause, during which a look of guilt crept its way onto Dr Shoal’s impossibly smooth face.

‘Yes,’ he sighed. ‘But most were… unsuccessful.’

‘What happened to those ones?’ asked Faucet, who had been sitting there so quietly that the others seemed surprised by his voice.

‘They were… sent away,’ the doctor explained. ‘For treatment, we were told. But I never saw them again.’

‘Did you have any successes at all?’ asked the captain.

‘As a matter of fact, I did,’ said Dr Shoal. ‘One that I paid a heavy price for.’

He slowly lowered his high collar to reveal a set of gills on either side of his neck. Rather than the smooth, elegant gills that would be seen on fish, they were rough, with scars where skin was cut open and sewn together. It was both disgusting and fascinating at the same time, and the grime fighters shared looks of disgust and fascination amongst each other.

‘Do they work?’ asked HyJean.

‘Do they hurt?’ asked Faucet.

‘What are they?’ asked the captain.

‘They are gills. Usually found on fish to allow them to breathe under water,’ Dr Shoal explained. ‘Yes, they do work, and yes they do hurt. Constantly.’

‘But why would you do that to yourself?’ asked HyJean.

‘I was curious,’ said Dr Shoal with a slight shrug. ‘If humans could evolve with the ability to breath under water, we could potentially inhabit the oceans and I could eliminate my own fear of drowning. I found a way to engineer it and had to test it on somebody. But I did not want to risk anyone else.’

‘So, if it worked, does that mean you could do it on other people?’ asked Faucet.

‘Theoretically, yes,’ said Dr Shoal, seeming almost inspired by Faucet’s level of interest. ‘But in this state, it is an existence that nobody would wish for. Trust me.’

‘What about the other scientists?’ asked HyJean, keen to move away from the topic of the fleshy gills. ‘What were they doing?’

‘I never knew. It was very secretive,’ the doctor replied. ‘We were all locked away in our laboratories, and nobody knew what anybody else was doing unless it was beneficial to them. We were told not to speak of our work.’

‘You keep saying we. How many others were there?’ asked the captain, finally adopting a calmer approach.

‘I do not know. There were about a dozen when I joined. That I saw anyway. But over the years it grew, inspired others. It wasn’t just an organisation, you see. It was a movement.’

‘How did they pay for… I’m sorry, can we put the collar up, they’re freaking me out,’ said HyJean.

‘Yeah, they’re putting me off my tea,’ Faucet added, hoping his hint would return them to the subject of tea, though sadly nobody cottoned on.

Dr Shoal silently obliged, glancing at the others with a raise of his eyebrows as if proving his point that having gills wasn’t all it was cracked up to be.

‘Thank you,’ said HyJean. ‘How did they fund the work? They can’t have had government funding to do this sort of stuff?’

‘Again, I do not know,’ said Dr Shoal. ‘We were advised not to ask too many questions.’

‘And you didn’t think that was suspicious?’ asked the captain.

There was another moment of silence, wherein the look of guilt on Dr Shoal’s face turned to a look of shame.

‘You have to understand, my research was for the good of humanity,’ he said quietly. ‘Sometimes that means having to do things you don’t always agree with in order to achieve your goals.’

‘How is changing our skin colour good for humanity?’ asked Faucet.

‘I have several theories, which I shall outline for you now,’ said Dr Shoal.

 

 

Meanwhile, back in the Filtham Community Centre, Flush and Mary were in the training room about to begin Mary’s journey to becoming a grime fighter. Flush had donned an army hat and was marching up and down the room as authoritatively as he could, a toilet brush tucked under his arm for extra authority. He had a whiteboard propped up against the wall with random words to do with fighting that served no real purpose other than to make it look like he knew what he was talking about.

‘Okay, Mary, today I’m going to put you through an intense training routine designed to improve your physical and mental strength so that you can join us as a fellow grime fighter,’ said Flush.

‘Isn’t that one of Mick’s old hats?’ Mary asked, tilting her head slightly as she looked at the hat.

‘Oh crap, yeah, sorry,’ Flush said, taking it off and tossing out of a nearby window, before turning back to Mary. ‘Sorry about that.’

‘It’s okay, love,’ she smiled. ‘I’ll get it back later. Carry on.’

‘So, the first important thing you need to know, is that bad guys suck,’ Flush continued. ‘Like, don’t try and befriend them or talk nicely to them, because they won’t listen. They’re rude, egotistical and don’t give a damn about the law.’

‘Sorry to interrupt you, but should I be making notes on this?’ asked Mary.

‘Mentally, yes. Physically, no,’ Flush replied. ‘I’ve got a PowerPoint presentation that I can send you.’

‘Right, thank you,’ said Mary. ‘Carry on.’

‘But bad guys – which we shouldn’t really call them, because there’s a lot of female villains. So bad guys and bad girls. Although… now that sounds too sexy,’ said Flush, scratching his head.

‘What about criminals?’ suggested Mary.

‘What about them?’ asked Flush.

‘Instead of bad guys, you could call them criminals,’ Mary explained.

‘Right! Yes, good idea. Criminals,’ said Flush, getting himself back on track. ‘So, criminals are not only massive douchebags, but they’re also pretty stupid too. Like they’ll tell you their whole plan if you ask them to, because they think it’s so clever and want to show off.’

‘Really?’ asked Mary. ‘That seems a bit daft.’

‘I know, right!’ chuckled Flush. ‘But if there’s one thing they are usually quite good at, it’s fighting. So you need to know how to defend yourself. We’ll start off with a bit of hand-to-hand combat, and then move on to weapons, because you’ve got your brick in a handbag, which I’ve got to say is a bostin idea. If I could pull off a handbag, I’d probably have one. I suppose I could use a carrier bag, but it doesn’t look quite as menacing carrying a Sainsbury’s bag around with you. It’d be good for undercover though. Just walking around and then WHACK! I might see about getting one next time I go in. But they’re thirty pence now, which is a bloody rip off. And they’re not even that strong, it’d probably break if I put a brick in it. You need something sturdier, like an M&S bag. Now theirs are good quality. Anyway, what were we talking about?’

‘You were going to show me how to fight,’ Mary reminded him.

‘Oh yeah!’ said Flush. He picked up a small sparring pad and held him up in front of him. ‘Okay, so let’s start with some basic punches and build it up from there. Just start punching the pad.’

Mary nodded and started punching the pad softly, with a weary expression on her face. It was clear that she was not a naturally violent person and, from what he’d heard, she’d never so much as raised her voice at a fly, let alone hurt one.

‘Come on, you can punch it properly,’ said Flush. ‘I’m not Faucet y’know, I can take a hit.’

‘Right, okay,’ said Mary, as she started to throw harder punches that actually hit the pad with some force.

Flush encouraged her and talked her through her punching technique.

‘Okay, that’s good. Now tuck your elbows in and punch straight, so you’re punching from your whole body and not just swinging your arm around. That’s it. Better. Now try and twist your hip a bit when you punch to get some power behind it. No, the other way. That’s it. Good. Now try and pull your punch back quicker so it’s more of a snap. There you go.’

After five minutes or so of punching, it was time to move on. Flush stopped Mary and lowered the pad.

‘That was pretty good for a first go,’ he said with a reassuring smile. ‘Now let’s see some kicks.’

Without hesitation, Mary swung her leg up and landed a swift kick right between Flush’s legs. He let out a yelp of pain and collapsed onto the floor.

‘Yep… I think you’ve got kicks covered,’ he groaned in pain as he curled into the foetal position. ‘Any questions so far?’

‘Yes,’ Mary replied. ‘What is a PowerPoint presentation?’

 

 

‘And that is the seventeenth and final reason why I believe colour changing skin would be an evolutionary benefit to humans,’ said Dr Shoal.

‘Wow, that was a long list,’ said Faucet, who was now slouched back in his chair, even more desperate for refreshment.

‘Very exhaustive,’ said HyJean. ‘And totally surplus to what we’re talking about right now.’

‘So, moving on,’ said the captain, ‘The other scientists that you worked with, are they still active?’

‘No,’ said Dr Shoal, shaking his head. ‘The authorities found out what was going on there, so the scientists disbanded and burnt the building down to destroy the evidence.’

‘Can we track them down, find them?’ asked the captain.

‘It is impossible,’ said Dr Shoal resolutely. ‘LAB is gone, Captain. They all fled. Nobody was caught. They changed their names and went into hiding. I have tried several times myself to try and find them, but with no success. I fear we will never see them again.’

‘Do you think they’re still doing these experiments?’ asked HyJean.

‘It is likely, yes,’ Dr Shoal nodded. ‘They were not the kind of people to give up. But I am no longer a part of the organisation. I have moved on.’

‘Moved on? How do you move on from that?’ asked Faucet angrily partly because he was still wound up about the tea, but also because of how flippant Dr Shoal seemed. ‘All those experiments, people’s lives ruined. You knew it was going on and you did nothing.’

‘I did not know the extent to which it was happening until it was too late,’ said Dr Shoal. ‘I do greatly regret some of the things I did, but in my heart, I believed it was for the good of science and for the benefit of mankind.’

‘What about Faucet?’ asked the captain.

‘Yeah, what about me?’ added Faucet. ‘Was I one of your experiments?’

Dr Shoal paused dramatically, staring into Faucet’s eyes before finally replying. ‘No.’

‘But you’re a marine biologist, surely you’d be connected to a water-based experiment?’ asked HyJean.

‘And you recognised me,’ said Faucet. ‘Didn’t you? When you saw me earlier you recognised me.’

‘You’re right, I did,’ said Dr Shoal. ‘I remembered your face. You were one of the last experiments before LAB shut down. You were one of the more successful test subjects. But you were also evidence of their work. They planned to leave you in the building when it burnt down. To let you die. I couldn’t… I had to save you.’

‘You saved me?’ repeated Faucet in a surprised tone.

‘I got someone to help me carry you outside, down the road to an underpass,’ he explained.

‘That… that’s right,’ said Faucet, squinting as he tried to recall his hazy memories. ‘I remember… I remember waking up there.’

‘I’m sorry I could not do more,’ said Dr Shoal. ‘But I am glad you are now okay.’

‘Okay? His blood is water and he’s constantly leaking from his pores,’ cried the captain.

‘Well then, I will amend my statement to I am glad you’re not dead,’ said Dr Shoal.

‘Is there anything you can do for me, doc?’ asked Faucet. There was a slight hint of hope in his voice, but it was to be short lived.

‘I’m afraid what was done to you is beyond my expertise,’ said Dr Shoal. ‘And I know of no one who would be able to help.’

‘Can you take us there, to the lab where you worked?’ asked the captain.

‘But it is burnt down,’ he replied. ‘There’s nothing left.’

‘I’d like to see it. And any other locations you know of. You said it grew, so there must have been more labs somewhere,’ said the captain. The cogs were clearly whirring inside his head, though unlike most machines they were too far apart from each other, so they never usually made contact and connected together, leaving his thoughts as mere individual cogs, fruitlessly spinning.

‘I know of one,’ said Dr Shoal. ‘I sent some tests there once for analysis, but again, it has been abandoned. And it’s several miles away from Filtham.’

‘Don’t worry, we know a very fast driver,’ said HyJean with an air of determination.

‘Very well. If you think it will help, I will take you,’ said Dr Shoal. ‘Let me just get my old badge. Perhaps it will be of some use to gain entry.’

They rose from the table and headed back through the hall, stopping so that Dr Shoal could enter his study to retrieve his badge. As they waited, HyJean looked around the study and spotted a photo on the wall of a very familiar face.

‘That’s Dr Ozone,’ she said.

‘You worked with Dr Ozone?’ asked the captain.

‘Hm?’ said Dr Shoal, looking up at the photo. ‘Oh, that. Sadly, no. But I am a great admirer of his work, as are most scientists in Filtham. I was lucky enough to meet him, that is all.’

The grime fighters took turns exchanging looks between one another. HyJean looked suspicious, knowing what Dr Ozone was really like; Captain Clean looked stern, knowing where HyJean’s mind was heading and warning her not to go there; Faucet looked confused by the whole thing, not knowing what to think or where to look, so he just stared at a plant on the shelf that he couldn’t help but feel was staring back at him.

‘Right then,’ said Dr Shoal as he reappeared at the door holding his badge. ‘Let’s go.’

 

 

Up on the roof terrace of the Filtham Community Centre, Flush and Mary were preparing themselves for the next part of his improvised training regime. Mary stood in the middle of the terrace while Flush brought over a small sack with a pungent citrus scent. He reached in and pulled out a piece of fruit to show her.

‘This is a satsuma,’ he said, holding the orange intently.

‘I think it’s a clementine actually,’ said Mary, taking the orange fruit and inspecting it.

‘It doesn’t matter,’ said Flush, taking it back. ‘The enemy won’t care about the type of orange when they attack you.’

‘They’re going to be attacking me with oranges regularly?’ asked Mary, struggling to piece together the conversation. ‘Are they criminal green grocers?’

‘No, they’re not criminal green grocers,’ sighed Flush. ‘We’re just using these for target practice. Let me explain.’

He put the sack down and took out a small remote control. He gestured over in the distance and pressed a button on the remote. While he’d expected a target to pop up in front of them, he’d actually pressed the wrong button and a tall metal target sprang up behind both of them with a surprising whoosh. The pair jumped in the air, letting out a scream as they staggered forwards in surprise.

‘Whoops, wrong button,’ said Flush sheepishly. He pulled Mary back and showed her the target. It was a tall metal pole with a flat metal sign on the top that had an angry face crudely painted on. ‘This is your enemy for today. You’ve got your punches and kicks, but it’s better to deal with the enemy from a distance before they even get to you. So, we’re going to work on your aim and your reactions.’

‘Oh, I see!’ said Mary. ‘So, I’m going to be throwing the oranges at the targets?’

‘Exactly. But imagine they’re grenades or something,’ said Flush. ‘You stay here and I’m going to go over there and release the targets one at a time. We’ll start off slowly at first and see how it goes, okay?’

‘Okay,’ said Mary as she started to peel the clementine in her hand.

‘Wait, what are you doing?’ asked Flush.

‘I’m hungry,’ said Mary innocently.

‘You can’t eat your grenades!’ said Flush, taking the peeled clementine off her and handing her the sack. ‘You can eat after. That’s another part of training, there’s never enough time to eat. It’s really annoying actually.’

Flush strode off to the edge of the terrace and sat on the wall, while Mary positioned herself in a combative stance. It didn’t come naturally to her, so it took a few attempts to get it right. At first she looked like she was constipated, and then like she was riding an invisible horse, but finally she got it.

‘Ready?’ Flush called over.

‘Yes, I think so,’ Mary replied.

Flush pressed a button and the first target sprang into life. As soon as she heard it moving, Mary let out a shriek as she impulsively threw an orange, but in the opposite direction, so it flew off the roof.

‘Don’t worry, try and wait for the target to come up,’ Flush reminded her.

He pressed another button and another target sprang up. Mary span around and threw the orange. It was much closer to the target this time, but still missed by a few inches. The next target sprang up and this time she managed to hit it. In her excitement, she danced around on the spot, completely forgetting about the targets and squealing in shock as the next target sprang up in front of her. Undeterred, Flush continued to release targets and Mary slowly began to improve both her aim and reaction times.

‘That’s it, you’re doing well!’ Flush called over to encourage her.

‘I still don’t understand why I’m throwing oranges,’ said Mary as she hurled another orange. ‘Am I supposed to keep fruit with me when we’re on missions?’

‘Maybe, we’ll see!’ Flush called back. ‘If you get on well, we might upgrade you to apples!’

As she continued to throw the oranges, Flush increased the speed of the targets. Before long, Mary was overwhelmed, spinning around throwing oranges left, right and centre, some of which missed their targets and flew over the edge of the building. While Flush was impressed with Mary’s progress, he couldn’t help but wonder how such a small sack managed to contain so many clementines.

His thoughts were interrupted as the door to the roof flung open with a loud clang. Mary, caught up in the moment, hurled an orange towards the door, but the person who had just opened the door had learnt from previous experience and lifted a hand up to catch the orange in perfect timing.

‘What on Earth are you doing up here?’ cried a furious Carol. The receptionist marched over to Mary and Flush joined them. ‘We are trying to have our annual boules tournament downstairs and we keep getting bombarded by satsumas!’

‘They’re clementines actually,’ Mary pointed out, but quickly realised her mistake and retreated.

‘We’re training,’ Flush explained. ‘Practicing our aim.’

Carol grabbed Flush by his arm and marched him over to the edge of the roof. Mary followed instinctively.

‘There’s your aim,’ said Carol, pointing down to a small group of disgruntled pensioners surrounded by splattered clementines.

‘Okay, okay, we’ll stop,’ said Flush. ‘Why do you even have this roof if you don’t want us on it?’

‘It was meant to be a garden terrace, but your captain set up all these contraptions that kept randomly popping up and scaring the guests,’ Carol explained. ‘We’re too frightened to come up here now.’

‘We’re very sorry, Carol. We’ll come down and clean up the mess,’ said Mary.

‘Thank you,’ said Carol, before turning to Flush and whispering, ‘Who is this woman?’

‘It’s Mary,’ Flush replied.

Mary lifted her mask and Carol gasped in surprise.

‘Oh! Of course,’ Carol chuckled. ‘Sorry Mary, it’s the mask.’

 

 

Dr Shoal led the grime fighters through the large double doors of the burnt down laboratory. The doors were about the only thing left standing, with the ruin of a site now a mess of debris and charred remains. It was impossible to tell what colour – or even material – the floor was, as it was coated in a thick layer of dust and rubble. Captain Clean was hyperventilating into a paper bag as he walked along the dusty corridor, unable to cope with the sheer quantity of mess that surrounded him.

‘When did you say this place burned down?’ asked HyJean.

‘About nine months ago,’ said Dr Shoal, who had remained tight lipped during the journey to the lab as he didn’t like people talking while he was driving.

‘And nobody’s cleaned it up yet?’ asked Faucet.

‘Nobody has dared enter here, until us,’ the doctor explained. ‘Once they found out what was going on here, the authorities condemned the place for fear that someone might get infected, or something might get loose.’

The captain spotted something that made him stop dead in his tracks. He gasped and leaned in to peer at a wall. There was a sign on the door that was hard to make out as it was coated in soot and ash.

‘Hmm. Faucet, if you don’t mind,’ said the captain, gesturing to the sign.

A curious Faucet obliged and sprayed a small jet of water at the sign. The dirt washed away to reveal… a men’s toilet sign.

‘Ah, perfect,’ said the Captain, pushing open the door and stepping inside, closing the door behind him.

They waited an awkward couple of minutes so while the captain did whatever he was doing inside the toilets. It was not unusual for him to disappear into public toilets like this. Rarely was it to actually use the facilities. More often than not it was to inspect them for cleanliness or to make a note of any new or interesting features that might have been installed. He liked to keep his finger on the pulse of sanitary technology.

‘Did you see the game last night?’ Faucet asked the room casually.

‘What game?’ asked Dr Shoal.

‘Dunno,’ Faucet shrugged. ‘Was hoping there’d been a game of something on TV so we’d have something to talk about.’

They returned to an awkward silence, which was thankfully interrupted by the door being flung open and a panicked Captain Clean rushing out.

‘It’s worse than we thought!’ he cried.

‘Why? What is it? What’s happened?’ asked HyJean in a panic.

‘The flush doesn’t work on the toilet,’ said the captain.

‘Oh, for crying out loud,’ HyJean groaned. ‘I thought it was something serious.’

‘That is serious,’ the captain protested. ‘I couldn’t finish the process.’

‘The process?’ asked Faucet. ‘Who describes going to the toilet as a process?’

‘Well, that’s what it is,’ the captain shrugged.

‘Hey guys, look,’ said HyJean, waving them to stop and gesturing to Dr Shoal who was now standing mournfully looking through the broken glass window of a door. ‘He looks sad.’

‘I suspect he’s upset about the broken flush too,’ said the captain.

‘Yeah, that must be it,’ HyJean replied sarcastically, with an eyeroll to further express her contempt for the captain’s suggestion. ‘Come on.’

They walked over to the doctor, standing behind him. He seemed not to notice them, but when HyJean put a comforting hand on his arm, it made him jump a little in surprise.

‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,’ said HyJean.

‘Are you okay, dude?’ asked Faucet.

‘This place has so many memories,’ the doctor sighed. ‘People I worked with, equipment that I used, the amazing discoveries we made. All gone.’

‘I think there’s a bit of a microscope here,’ said the captain, picking up a charred piece of plastic. ‘No wait, it’s just a tube of Smarties.’

‘Any left?’ asked Faucet.

Captain Clean shook the tube, which made no sound, then shook his head.

‘Aww man, this day just keeps getting worse,’ said Faucet.

They stood silently for a while, just gazing through the square hole into the burnt remains of the room. There was nothing left to give any clues as to what the room was used for, but knowing what had occurred in the building, it seemed significant nonetheless. In this room, some great experiment could have taken place that might have catapulted evolution to a whole new level. Glimpses into genetics, breakthroughs in biology, and disappointments in dentistry.

‘Was this room important to you?’ asked HyJean.

‘Oh yes, perhaps the most important room in the whole building,’ Dr Shoal nodded.

‘What happened in here?’ asked the captain.

‘It was the canteen,’ said the doctor, throwing the grime fighters a little. ‘They made the best cookies, fresh every morning. Boy, I miss those cookies.’

They continued down the corridor, glancing into other rooms and piecing together a rough layout of the building in their heads. They took the stairs up to the second floor, which was much the same as the first, only it was slightly higher up. In one room they found what was once an office, with a surprisingly clean metal filing cabinet in the corner. Captain Clean quickly rushed over to it, forcing one of the drawers open, hoping to find some key piece of information that could answer the dozens of questions in his mind. But alas, he found the inside to be completely empty.

‘We never used them,’ the doctor explained. ‘They were just for show. Everything was stored digitally.’

Indeed, they found the burned remnants of computers in some of the rooms, but HyJean declared them all useless, with no way to retrieve any data. She deduced that most looked like they had been purposely damaged before the fire, with anything that might have proved useful missing entirely. As they left the final room, HyJean turned to the captain.

‘So why exactly did you want to come here?’ she asked.

‘I don’t know, I thought something would happen that would give us some clues,’ said the captain. ‘To be honest, it’s been quite disappointing.’

‘And pointless,’ added Faucet.

‘If anything, it’s made me more depressed,’ said the doctor.

‘Well, I think we’re agreed this has been a huge waste of everybody’s time,’ sighed HyJean. ‘Let’s take him back.’

They comforted the doctor and led him back out of the building. He continued to sob, muttering about how good the freshly baked cookies used to be. It is often the case that someone’s lasting memory of a place is the food, especially if they were poisoned by a burger laced with cyanide. The doctor had never been poisoned – or at least he hadn’t been aware of it – but the canteen was a sanctuary away from the questionable work they were doing.

Back outside, they all piled back into the car, with HyJean in the front and the captain and Faucet in the back.

‘It’s a bit tighter back here than I remember,’ said the captain as the doctor slowly started to reverse. He turned to the woman sat next to him. ‘Could you budge up a bit?’

The woman ignored him, but Faucet leaned forward, holding up his hand to talk discretely to the captain, although this gesture always just draws more attention.

‘Hey, who is she anyway?’ he asked.

‘No idea,’ said the captain. ‘I thought you brought her.’

Faucet looked at the woman, who ignored him completely. The captain shrugged, so Faucet leaned forward and tapped the doctor on the shoulder.

‘Hey doc, who is this woman back here?’

The doctor turned around and let out a scream of panic, which in turn made the others scream, although the woman sat ever silent. The doctor slammed on the break and flung the door open, jumping out and running back towards the lab.

‘I wonder why he did that,’ said the captain.

The woman – who had long greasy hair, a pale complexion and deep, piercing eyes like a particularly mean headteacher – started growling as she tensed her body, staring straight ahead, until she let out a shriek and flung her arms open, causing tiny fragments of ice to shoot from all over her body. The minuscule crystals flew everywhere, chipping the glass windows and hitting the grime fighters, who squealed and rushed to leave the car. Captain Clean and HyJean managed to jump out of the car, but Faucet was having trouble with his seatbelt. His anxiety was causing him to leak, meaning his hands slipped and fumbled with the buckle, unable to release the belt. The woman turned to him slowly, looked down at the belt and pressed the button to release it.

‘Thanks,’ said Faucet, before fleeing the car to join his fellow grime fighters.

They ran quickly over to the ruined laboratory, hoping to find the doctor, or at least some shelter from the mad ice woman. Captain Clean hesitated at the door, his hand hovering over the dirty handle, quivering a little.

‘Oh for god’s sake,’ said HyJean, pushing him aside and trying the handle. It wouldn’t open. She peered through the window and saw Doctor Shoal leaning against the door to keep it shut.

‘What’s wrong?’ asked Faucet. ‘Is there something blocking it?’

‘Yes. A little German man who won’t let us in,’ she grumbled, before banging on the door. ‘Let us in Doctor Shoal! Preferably before she attacks us!’

‘But it is not safe!’ he shouted back from behind the door.

‘Exactly! So let us in!’ HyJean cried.

‘Screw this,’ said Flush, stepping forward and hitting the door with a mighty stomp of his foot. The kick appeared to do more damage to Flush’s foot than the door, which stayed firmly shut. Flush hopped back and rubbed his foot while the others banged on the door.

‘Let me try,’ said Faucet, who stepped up to the door. The others hoped a jet from his water might force the door open, but that was not what Faucet had in mind. He put his hand up to the small gap between the doors and squirted a thin jet of water. It dispersed on the other side and squirted Dr Shoal in the eyes. He groaned and flapped about a little before finally giving in.

‘Okay, okay,’ spluttered the doctor, finally relenting and opening the door, allowing the grime fighters to clamber in before shutting the door again and propping a chair against the handle.

‘What should we do?’ asked Faucet.

‘Well, what we definitely shouldn’t do is trap every one of us inside a single building,’ said the captain.

‘Yeah, that’d be a stupid idea,’ said HyJean with a roll of her eyes. She turned to Doctor Shoal. ‘Who is that woman?’

The doctor looked a little sheepish and tried to make his face as expressionless as he could. ‘I do not know.’

‘Clearly you do,’ said the captain. ‘You legged it as soon as you saw her.’

‘Very well,’ sighed Doctor Shoal. ‘She is another of the patients that was experimented on. Something to do with water and freezing her body temperature if I recall. But I never worked on her, I swear.’

‘Oh great, so you’ve brought us to a lab with a crazed woman with ice powers and now she’s after us,’ said HyJean in a distinctly aggravated tone.

‘Are you sure she’s coming after us?’ asked the doctor, standing on his tip toes slightly to look over HyJean’s shoulder.

‘I dunno,’ said the captain. ‘We just kind of assumed she would follow us. Faucet, is she coming this way?’

Faucet, who was the closest to the door – a position he was rapidly regretting – crouched down behind the door and poked his head up a little to look out of the window.  Sure enough, the woman had left the car and was slowly making her way over to them.

‘Zoinks!’ cried Faucet. ‘She’s totally coming for us.’

‘Did you really just say zoinks?’ asked HyJean

‘What? This is exactly like something out of Scooby Doo,’ he said, putting his hands on his hips defiantly. ‘I think that’s a totally appropriate reference to make.’

‘Excuse me, what is a Scooby Doo?’ asked Dr Shoal.

‘It’s a cartoon about a talking dog that solves mysteries with his friends,’ Faucet explained.

‘A talking dog? I see,’ said Dr Shoal. ‘And his friends, they are dogs too?’

‘No, no, they’re humans,’ said Faucet.

‘Will you two shut up!’ snapped Captain Clean. ‘We need to figure out a plan. Faucet, you stay with the doctor. We can’t afford to lose either of you.’

‘Right,’ said Faucet, wasting no time in joining the doctor farther down the corridor.

‘What am I then, little miss expendable?’ asked HyJean with a raised eyebrow.

‘You know what I mean,’ said the captain, brushing her comment away. ‘We should hide in one of these rooms and hope she goes past so we can get out.  But hide in separate rooms. We don’t want to all be running around being chased in and out of rooms like in… cartoons.’

He hesitated on the last word, wanting to avoid bringing the subject of Scooby Doo back up and starting another unnecessary conversation.

‘But what if she comes into our room and attacks us?’ asked Faucet.

‘Don’t worry, she won’t,’ said the captain.

‘Oh, cool, well we’ll hide in this one then,’ said Faucet as he turned to leave, but he stopped and turned back. ‘Wait, how do you know she won’t come into our room?’

‘I don’t, I was just trying to stop you worrying,’ the captain shrugged. ‘If anything, she’s probably more likely to come into that room because it’s closest to the door.’

‘Oh great, now I feel reassured,’ said Faucet, opting for another door nearer the end of the corridor and ushering Doctor Shoal inside.

‘And you say you are professionals?’ the doctor could be heard to say before the door closed on them.

‘HyJean, where is she now?’ the captain asked.

HyJean looked out of the window and froze. The icy woman was directly on the other side of the glass, staring in at her. She hesitated as she tried to speak, but all she could mutter was, ‘Jinkies.’

There was a loud bang on the door as the woman smashed their fists against it and the two grime fighters quickly turned to run. There were more bangs as the woman kicked the door, causing the chair to fly forward and hit the captain. The woman burst in through the doors and, as she flung her arms forward, small crystals of ice scattered along the corridor floor. Captain Clean and HyJean tried to dodge them as best they could, but inevitably ended up slipping and falling to the floor. The icy woman strode over to them and stared down, pointing a hand at each of them as a warning.

‘Where is Doctor Shoal?’ she asked, with a cool hiss of a voice.

‘We’ll never tell you,’ said HyJean, trying to sound confident.

‘Then I shall ask your corpses,’ hissed the woman.

‘What? That doesn’t even make sense,’ said the captain. ‘We won’t be able to talk if we’re dead.’

The woman paused for a moment and then grunted, ‘Silence!’

‘I thought you wanted us to tell you where the doctor was,’ HyJean pointed out.

‘Silence unless you are telling me where the doctor is,’ hissed the woman, clearly getting wound up at how badly this was going.

‘How about we don’t tell you where he is but we still-‘ the captain was cut off as a small gust of icy wind blew into his face. As it passed, he felt his mouth was frozen shut. He felt it with his hand and could feel the cold chill of a thin slab of ice across his mouth.

‘Can you teach me how to do that?’ asked HyJean, looking at the frozen mouth with a strange sense of enjoyment. Any method of keeping the captain quiet was always greatly appreciated, as his mouth often made situations worse.

‘You masked morons think you can stop me,’ sneered the icy woman as she rubbed her hands together, charging them up for another attack, with an icy mist forming around her hands.

‘No, but he probably could,’ said HyJean said with a triumphant grin, pointing behind the woman.

She span around to see who it was, but there was nobody there. She took a few steps towards the door and looked around, but there was nobody to be seen. When she turned back around to question it, she saw Captain Clean and HyJean running off down the corridor.

‘Now who’s the moron?’ HyJean shouted back.

 

 

‘Shut up you silly little man!’ Mary shouted at Flush.

The grime fighter looked decidedly unimpressed and shook his head, holding up a hand to stop her.

‘No, no. That’s not going to intimidate anyone,’ he told her. ‘It needs to be loud and aggressive. Let out the beast inside you.’

‘I don’t have a beast inside me,’ said Mary. ‘Just some undigested toast.’

‘Well find a beast then,’ said Flush. ‘Come on, imagine… imagine someone’s really hacked you off. You’ve been queuing for an hour and someone just cut in front of you. What do you say?’

‘I don’t say anything,’ she shrugged. ‘If I’ve queued for an hour, a few more minutes won’t hurt. They’ve probably got something urgent they need.’

Flush put his head in his hand and sighed, whilst Mary just looked bemused as to what he was expecting from her. Her default setting was always to be kind and positive, and whilst this made her a good person, it did put her at somewhat of a disadvantage in a world that could be extremely unkind and negative.

‘This ain’t working,’ said Flush. ‘I’m afraid you’re not cut out to be a grime fighter, Mary. I guess that’s why Mick never let you train; he thought you were too weak.’

The second hand on the clock behind them barely had time to move in the time it took for Mary’s eyes to widen and the veins on her forehead to bulge out. She let out a growl, saliva jumping to escape her mouth, and swung her hand, landing an almighty smack on Flush’s cheek that echoed around the room and sent him stumbling to the side.

‘HOW DARE YOU!’ she roared. ‘MY HUSBAND KNEW I WAS STRONG! HE ALWAYS BELIEVED IN ME!’

‘There we go,’ Flush grinned happily. ‘There’s the beast we were looking f- aaargh!’

He was cut off as Mary launched into a barrage of slaps. He cowered down and tried to push her back, but she was surprisingly strong.

‘Mary! Stop! I know! I know!’ he pleaded. ‘I didn’t mean it! I was trying to get you riled!’

He eventually managed to subdue her and she composed herself sheepishly.

‘Right… yes… well,’ she said, helping him up and brushing him down. ‘That wasn’t a very nice thing to do, Will. But I understand why you did it.’

‘That anger that’s inside of you, you need to channel that when you’re fighting,’ he said. ‘Trust me, nobody’s going to stand a chance if you’re like that. You were feral.’

He made his way over to the central table and picked up a checklist he’d made, crossing off “intimidation” and moving onto the next item.

‘So, what about your weapon?’ he asked.

‘My weapon?’ asked Mary, almost sounding frightened by the suggestion that she’d have some sort of weapon. She wasn’t generally of fan of anything too dangerous. She even cut her steak with a butter knife.

‘Yeah, we’ve all got one,’ said Flush. ‘What did you use to take down the flea guy?’

‘I had a brick in my handbag,’ Mary explained, picking up her handbag from the table and taking out a solid, heavy-looking brick.

‘Huh. Unconventional, but if it works for ya,’ said Flush with a shrug, ticking off “weapon” on the list.

‘So, we’ve done basic combat skills, awareness, intimidation and weapon… we’re making good progress. Takes most people at least a week to learn this stuff.’

He gave her a reassuring smile, before he walked over to the computer area and leant on the desk with his back to the computers, surveying Mary’s confident new look as she stood posing with her deadly handbag.

‘Of course, what we could really do with is a nice easy mission to get you some real experience,’ he said.

‘Yes, I think that would help,’ Mary nodded.

‘Yep, a nice easy mission right now would be really useful,’ Flush continued.

‘I know, I just said it would,’ said Mary, furrowing her brow.

‘Now would be the perfect time for a nice easy mission,’ said Flush a little louder and slower, now seemingly talking to the room in general rather than directly to Mary.

‘Why do you keep repeating yourself?’ asked Mary.

‘Ugh. Usually when we mention missions, one pops up on the computer,’ Flush sighed, turning around and tapping on the keyboards to try and spark some life into the screens. ‘Typical. But the moment we’re about to clock off for the day, then there’ll be a bloody mission, won’t there? Come on, we’ll head out onto the streets, see what trouble we can find.’

 

 

Flush and Dr Shoal stood still, pressed together tightly inside a dark store cupboard that was mostly empty, save for a few glass jars that were mostly empty and a mop that was probably pleased to finally have some company.

‘So, ever hidden inside a store cupboard before?’ asked Faucet.

‘Once or twice,’ the doctor nodded. ‘I once made love to a rather attractive young chemist in a store cupboard.’

‘Really? You old dog,’ Faucet chuckled.

‘Oh yes, she was a fascinating woman,’ he recalled. ‘She had a trick she used to do where she would take a test tube and insert it into-‘

‘Okay, that’s enough of that story,’ said Faucet, cutting him off.

Before the doctor could explain, they heard a knocking on the door. It made them both jump a little, and in the darkness they looked in the direction that they thought the other was in and wondered if they had the same terrified expression on their face.

‘It is her,’ Dr Shoal whispered.

‘Surely she wouldn’t knock though?’ Faucet pointed out. ‘It’s going to be like in the movies where we think it’s her, but we open the door and it’s HyJean or Cap. Just you watch.’

He took a deep breath and opened the door, but his theory was quickly debunked as they were greeted by the sight of the icy woman gazing back at them, her body hissing as it once again started to freeze.

‘Nope, it’s her,’ said Faucet, quickly shutting the door again.

There was a crackling sound and then an explosion from outside and the door was hit with multiple blasts of ice.

‘What do we do?’ Faucet whispered frantically.

‘Distract her,’ Dr Shoal replied as he hastily rifled through the glass jars.

When the door burst open again, Faucet aimed both his hands at the woman and let out two small jets of water. But, to his surprise, she raised her hands and the water froze in mid-air. The icy wind travelled down the stream and reached his hands, freezing up the bracelets so he could not produce any more water. She ripped the two icicles off and tossed them to the ground, where they shattered around her.

‘Wait! Do not hurt us!’ Dr Shoal cried, presenting to her the glass jar that contained a small amount of purple liquid inside. He spoke quickly, pleading for his life. ‘I have found the solution to cure your condition. This is why we came here. I can help you.’

The woman froze – this time not literally, just figuratively – and eyed up the doctor, trying to assess if he was telling the truth or not. Although humans do not yet possess the ability to detect dishonesty in other humans, there are usually tells – minor facial gestures or changes in tone of voice – that give some people away. However, super-secret scientists who have been hiding their work for years are well versed in the art of lying, so, like a skinflint at Christmas, he gave away nothing.

‘Very well, administer the solution,’ she eventually replied.

‘I cannot do it here. The conditions are not sterile enough, it may affect the outcome,’ the doctor explained quickly. ‘I saw a sign on the way in, there is a laboratory nearby, we can do it there.’

‘Very well,’ the woman sighed. ‘But if you’re trying to deceive me, I will kill you. And if we find your friends, I will kill them.’

‘I do not doubt that,’ nodded the doctor as he stepped out of the closet, closely followed by Faucet.

‘Move,’ the woman directed, following behind them. They walked out of the room, back out into the corridor. Faucet saw no signs of any signs pointing to laboratories, and he hoped the woman wouldn’t notice either. He thought to distract her, the only way he knew how.

‘So, you can produce ice? That’s pretty neat,’ he said as they followed Dr Shoal through a set of double doors and down a corridor. ‘Hey, you can produce ice, I can produce water. We’re so similar you and me. We should go out sometime. Imagine if we had babies with water and ice powers!’

The woman’s hand froze into a solid block of ice and she smacked Faucet around the head with it.

‘Okay, you’re right, that’s going too fast,’ he said, rubbing his head. ‘Let’s take it nice and slow.’

‘I don’t think she wants to take it anywhere,’ said Dr Shoal as he came to a stop outside a door and took out his ID badge, placing it on a scanner that clicked as the door unlocked. ‘In here, this will do.’

 

 

Flush and Mary sat at a table in Happy Happy Burger, with Flush munching away at his burger while Mary sipped at her coffee. They had found the streets to be irritatingly quiet – even when Flush pushed someone over to try and start something, the man just apologised and left – so they had decided to retreat to the fast-food restaurant for a break. Mary hadn’t eaten, because she was worried that if there was any action later, she didn’t want to be fighting on a full stomach and risk vomiting all over criminals. She was thoughtful like that. Always putting others before herself, which was usually why she spent so long queuing at the post office. She loved the feeling of being next so much she would often let others go before her so she could continue being next. Some staff members even questioned whether she was working there as some sort of greeter. Often, by the time she got to the cashier, she inevitably forgot what she’d come in for and she’d have to queue up again the next day, which she very much enjoyed.

But Mary had not forgotten her training, and was keeping an eagle eye out for any trouble outside. She was staring at the window so hard, Flush was genuinely concerned it might shatter.

‘Relax, Mary, we’re on a break,’ he said as he finished his burger.

‘Crime doesn’t take a break,’ said Mary in a gruff voice she was trying out.

‘You sound like Cap,’ Flush chuckled. ‘You really should eat something though, it’s not good for you to-‘

He was cut off as Mary suddenly pointed at the window, ‘Look! Ejits!’

‘What?’ asked Flush, swivelling round in his chair to see what she was looking at. Through the window he could see a small crowd of people outside causing a stir, shouting and hitting people with brochures and generally being very impolite. ‘Oh, Avacs! Although, to be fair, ejits is still pretty accurate.’

‘Come on, we’ve got to stop them,’ said Mary, standing up.

‘But I’m still eating,’ Flush whined.

‘No you’re not,’ said Mary, grabbing him and pulling him up.

He managed to retrieve his fries before they left, stuffing as many as he could into his mouth as he followed a determined Mary.

‘I haffn’t goff any ffray,’ he mumbled as they neared the rowdy rabble.

‘Don’t worry, I packed some just in case,’ said Mary as she took out two small spray bottles from her handbag that were very effective at calming the Avacs – hypnotised citizens who were brainwashed into violently spreading an anti-vaccination message to the public.

‘Blimey, you really do carry everything in those things, don’t you?’ said Flush, taking one of the bottles.

‘That’s why they’re called handbags,’ explained Mary. ‘Because they’re handy for storing things.’

Flush had no time to question her logic, as they were now in the middle of the raucous display in the street.

‘Hey! You vaccine haters are going to feel the sting of-’ Flush began, but was cut off by a whirlwind of leaflets hitting his face. ‘That’s very rude, y’know. You’re supposed to let us make our quips before we fight.’

‘I don’t think they care about that,’ said Mary as she swung her bag and took out two of the possessed protesters in one swoop. Flush asked a frightened civilian to hold his fries, then joined in, punching the Avacs and swinging his toilet chain whip around to hit and trap his assailants. Once they were all suitably disorientated, the two grime fighters began spraying them. The Avacs slumped down to the floor and the remaining civilians thanked Flush and Mary before dispersing. Flush returned to the one who had been holding his food, only to find the cardboard tub was empty.

‘You ate my fries!’ Flush groaned.

‘Sorry, I thought you were giving me them to eat,’ the man replied apologetically. ‘To calm my nerves.’

‘Calm your nerves?’ Flush grumbled. ‘I’ll give you something to be nervous about.’

‘Don’t worry, I’ll get you some more,’ said Mary, as she pulled Flush away.

‘Thank you for saving us!’ the food stealer called after them as he walked away.

‘Yeah, whatever,’ groaned Flush.

‘That was rather thrilling,’ said Mary with a spring in her step and a bounce in her voice, like a kangaroo on a trampoline. ‘My first proper mission. I think it went pretty well.’

‘Yeah, it did,’ Flush nodded. ‘You were bostin, Mary. I’m proud of ya. They were a particularly aggressive bunch too. In fact, they weren’t even shouting about vaccines like they usually do. It was just like they were causing chaos for no reason.’

‘Or maybe there was a reason. Maybe they were a distraction, look,’ said Mary, pointing down a side street where a van was parked. On the side of the van was printed: “Norm & Al: General Trade Services” with a tagline underneath that read: “This is a completely ordinary van”.

‘Huh, very suspicious,’ said Flush.

‘We should totally go check it out,’ said Mary.

‘Wait, what? No, we can’t just start investigating people,’ Flush argued. ‘You’re not ready for that kind of mission yet’

‘Quiet,’ said Mary, pulling him back behind a tree.

They slipped behind a tree and watched as two men got out of the van. They were both wearing smart black suits and trilby hats, looking like well-dressed shadows moving in the dark under the darkness of the buildings. They looked around, before entering a nearby building.

‘They looked dangerous,’ said Flush. ‘I really think we should leave it and tell the others, Mary. Mary?’

He turned and saw that the nascent grime fighter had left his side and was now creeping along a brick wall in the most conspicuous manner possible. He let out a curse under his breath and quickly scuttled over to join her.

‘Mary! Mary!’ he hissed as she followed him up to the door. ‘Cap is going to kill me if he finds out about this!’

‘Oh, stop worrying,’ said Mary. ‘We’re just having a look.’

‘Okay, but we need to think about this,’ Flush pointed out. ‘We need to strategize and be tactful.’

Before they had time to plan, Mary had made it to the door. She whipped off her mask and, much to Will’s horror, knocked on the door three times, paused, and added one more knock to round it up to an even number. She had heard it was correct etiquette to always knock an even number of times on a door.

‘What are you doing?’ Flush cried as he tried to pull her away.

‘Shh, take your mask off,’ said Mary, batting him away.

Will took his mask off just in time before the door opened and a surly looking man wearing yet another black suit and trilby combo eyed them up and down. He seemed to look at them the way a butcher looked at a slab of meat on a counter, and by the looks of him, he probably knew how to butcher meat.

‘Fair enough,’ he grunted. ‘Come in.’

‘Thank you,’ said Mary with a smile as she walked past him. Will joined her, sheepishly following and cowering a little as he passed the intimidating doorman.

‘Not quite what we were expecting,’ said a similarly suited man wearing tinted glasses as he approached them from the middle of the room. ‘But I guess nobody would suspect you.’

‘Oh, quite,’ said Mary in a confident tone. ‘Nobody suspected a thing.’

‘So, do you have it?’ asked the bespectacled man.

‘Hm?’ asked Mary, unsure what he might be referring to.

‘Do you have it?’ he repeated.

‘What is it?’ asked Mary.

‘You don’t need to know that,’ said another suited man from behind.

‘Just tell us, do you have it?’ asked the man in glasses.

‘I don’t know, I might do,’ said Mary. ‘It depends what it is.’

‘Could you give us a clue?’ said Flush.

‘Quit the games,’ said another suited man from the other side of them. Flush and Mary were beginning to lose track of who was who, as all these men in black suits and trilby hats made it feel like they were at a funeral with a family full of identical twins.

‘If you have it, hand it over,’ said the suited man in glasses.

‘We can’t hand it over until you tell us what it is,’ said Flush, thinking on his feet. ‘That’s what we’ve been told. Got to be sure we’ve got the right people. Can’t take any chances.’

‘Don’t be stupid,’ said the suited man in glasses. ‘We can’t say what it is in case anybody’s listening.’

‘Okay, what if everybody else covered their ears and just tell us,’ Mary suggested.

‘He means people outside listening in, you fool,’ said another suited man. It was lucky he wasn’t distinguishable, as Mary would’ve liked to have thumped him.

‘You know, I’m getting tired of you two,’ said the suited man in glasses. As he said those last words, he took out a black Tommy gun and held it up to Mary’s face. Several more guns were taken out and pointed at the two of them.

 

 

The room was larger than Faucet had expected. On one side was a row of computers and scientific equipment, most of which meant nothing to Faucet, but Dr Shoal seemed to know what it was, as he pottered around mixing various colour fluids and checking them. There was an operating table, on which the icy woman lay, with lights above her that made the tiny crystals on her skin sparkle and shine. On the other side of the room was a large hole in the floor filled with water. As he looked down into it, Faucet saw it was a large water tank, with nothing but water inside as far as he could see.

‘Okay, now Sarah, lie still and I will inject you with this solution that will reverse the effects of your condition,’ Dr Shoal explained.

‘Wait, who’s Sarah?’ Faucet asked.

‘I am,’ the woman hissed.

‘I thought her name was Gillian,’ said Faucet.

‘What made you think that?’ asked Dr Shoal.

‘Earlier, she said I am Gillian,’ Faucet explained.

‘No, she said she will kill them, as in your friends,’ Dr Shoal explained.

‘Oh, I see,’ said Faucet, turning to Sarah. ‘Sorry, it’s your voice, it’s hard to understand with the whole hissing thing you’ve got going on.’

‘Please, leave us, so I may work in peace,’ said the doctor, gesturing him to go back to the other side of the room.

‘Okay doc, you got it,’ said Faucet. ‘No distractions.’

As if on cue, the door burst open, and Captain Clean and HyJean ran in, the captain brandishing a fire extinguisher he’d found in the corridor and HyJean holding a chair.

‘Okay, where is she?’ the captain shouted.

‘No, no! Cap stop, it’s okay!’ Faucet cried, stepping in to stop him. ‘The doc picked up some random stuff from a store cupboard and he’s going to try and he said it’ll buy us some time, whatever that means.’

‘Random stuff? From a store cupboard?’ Sarah hissed, her body once again tensing up and emitting a frosty mist. ‘Buy you time?’

‘No, please Sarah, calm down,’ Dr Shoal said, trying to placate her.

But it was too late. Her body shook and fired off another round of icy crystals, causing the others to duck behind the nearest piece of furniture or equipment. Sarah seemed to pay no attention to the grime fighters, her sole target was now Dr Shoal, who scuttled around trying to avoid her. But he soon ran out of hiding spaces, standing alone in the middle of the room.

‘Should we do something?’ HyJean whispered to Captain Clean.

‘Unless you’ve got a flamethrower in your utility belt, I suggest we just wait and see how this plays out,’ he replied.

Dr Shoal and Sarah stood a few meters apart facing each other. While she sinisterly paced toward him, grunting and hissing, he shuffled backwards, pleading with her.

‘Sarah, please. I didn’t mean to… I was just trying to help… I can fix you…’

However, the more he spoke, the more it seemed to rile her. Before long she was lunging at him, slashing away with icy fingers. He tried to fight her off, but in their struggle they edged closer and closer to the water tank. As Sarah threw another cold punch, he dodged it and she fell forward into the tank, pulling him down with her. They fell with a splash, disappearing under the water. There were splashes, waves and bubbles, but they quickly faded as the pair fell deeper into the tank.

The grime fighters gathered around the hole, looking into the water for some signs of movement from either the doctor or his patient. But the water was dark and they couldn’t see anything. They waited silently for a while, until Faucet broke the silence.

‘Do you think we should go in after him?’ he asked.

‘Nah, he seems to know what he’s doing,’ Captain Clean replied.

‘I just wish we could see what was happening,’ said HyJean, leaning in closer but to no avail.

‘Yeah, I bet it’s probably a cool looking fight between them going on down there,’ said Faucet.

They stood at the edge, waiting still, finding themselves getting impatient and even a little bored at the lack of action. With the two of them submerged, there was nothing much for the grime fighters to do.

‘They’ve been down there a good few minutes,’ said Faucet. ‘Surely they’ll have drowned by now?’

‘I guess we’ll never know,’ said the captain, turning to leave. ‘Come on, let’s go.’

As soon as the others turned to follow, they’re was a loud splash and a pained gasp from behind. They span back around to see Dr Shoal clinging to the edge of the tank, panting and spluttering. All around him, the water was a deep red.

‘He’s alive!’ cried the captain.

‘Of course, his gills,’ said HyJean as she suddenly remembered the doctor’s unique disfigurement.

‘Guys, he’s hurt,’ said Faucet, gesturing to the bloodied water.

The three of them quickly reached down and pulled the doctor out of the water. His clothes were torn to shreds and he had cuts all over his body. But his chest bore the worst of it, with three large icicles sticking out. They pulled him along the floor and propped him up against a wall.

‘Dr Shoal, are you okay?’ asked Captain Clean.

‘Of course I am not okay,’ the doctor grunted. ‘I have three icicles sticking out of my chest!’

‘What about the woman? Is she…’ HyJean asked, unable to finish what she wanted to ask.

‘She drowned,’ Dr Shoal nodded weakly. ‘And I will be gone too. Very soon. By the time these melt.’

‘Faucet, can’t you do something with your water?’ asked the captain.

‘I… I dunno… I can’t control the temperature… but I can try,’ he replied, a panicked tone in his voice now that he was suddenly burdened with responsibility for saving a life.

He aimed his arms at Dr Shoal’s chest, half closing his eyes as he let out a light spray of water. The water did very little to the ice, but splashed up into Dr Shoal’s face.

‘Stop! Stop!’ he spluttered. ‘It is no use. There is nothing you can do. It is my time.’

‘There’s got to be something we can do,’ said HyJean, looking around at the scientific equipment on the other side of the room. She ran across to see what she could find.

‘God damn it, will you just let me die!’ Dr Shoal cried out with the kind of passion that would have won him an Oscar were he in a film.

The three grime fighters were stunned into silence, unsure what to do to make his final moments more comfortable. As they watched the doctor struggle to breathe, a thought struck Faucet.

‘Dr Shoal, you knew the woman, Sarah. You knew her name and her powers, so you must’ve known her,’ he said, crouching down to be eye to eye with the doctor. ‘And we pretty much had the same thing done to us, so if you knew her you must’ve known me.’

‘Okay, I was one of the people experimenting on her,’ Dr Shoal admitted. ‘But I did not know anything about you, I swear.’

‘Hey, I found a folder here that’s got Dr Shoal’s name and Nelson’s names right next to it,’ HyJean called over from the other side of the room.

‘Okay, I knew about you, but I never met you, I swear,’ the doctor pleaded.

‘There’s a photo of the two of them together too,’ said HyJean as she brought the file over.

‘Okay, I met you, but I never experimented on you,’ said the doctor.

‘It’s a photo of the doc injecting Faucet with something,’ HyJean continued.

‘Will someone shut this woman up!’ Dr Shoal groaned.

‘You did this to me? You made me into a superhero? You’re like… my father,’ said Faucet, crouching down in front of the dying doctor, leaning into him. ‘Papa, don’t leave me! There’s so much I need to know!’

‘If someone would just push the knife in a bit deeper, I’d be very grateful,’ Dr Shoal said, looking past Faucet to HyJean and Captain clean.

‘You’re not going anywhere until you tell us why you were experimenting on me,’ said Faucet, leaning in closer now.

‘I cannot,’ Dr Shoal replied, his voice getting weaker now, barely able to speak. ’You need to find… speak to… doctor… uuuurghlaaaack.’

‘Doctor Urglack?’ Captain Clean questioned with a puzzled look. ‘Sounds Swedish. HyJean, make a note to look up a Swedish doctor.’

‘It’s not a name, you idiot, Faucet’s kneeling on his stomach,’ HyJean said, pulling Faucet off the doctor.

‘Let me try,’ said the captain, crouching down beside him and talking loudly and slowly as if the doctor was deaf rather than dying. ‘Doctor Shoal, please, the ice is melting quickly, what can you tell us?’

‘LAB… it… it is…’

‘Is what? Is evil?’ the captain guessed. ‘I think we figured that one out.’

‘No… LAB … is…’

‘Is German?’ he guessed again. ‘That would make sense given your accent.’

‘LAB … is…’

‘Is not really an acronym? Did you just make that up?’

‘Is…’ and with that he collapsed backwards against the wall, to breathe no more, his words left untold.

‘Well, I guess now we’ll never know,’ the captain shrugged.

‘You idiot! He was about to tell us something important,’ said HyJean.

‘I know, I was trying to help him,’ the captain replied.

‘Help him? You were interrupting!’ said HyJean. ‘His dying words, his last secret, and he didn’t tell us because he couldn’t get a bloody word in edgeways. Honestly.’

 

 

Mary blinked a few times, her head swaying gently as she slowly regained consciousness. Her face felt slightly wet, maybe from sweat or tears. She looked up and saw three men in suits and hats standing around. Looking down, she saw that her arms and waist were tied to a chair, though thankfully her legs were free, as the suited men apparently had a short supply of rope. Looking to her side she saw that Flush was tied to a chair next to her in the same fashion. She glanced around and saw that there was nobody else in the room with them. All this looking around made her feel a little dizzy, but, once she composed herself, she saw that Flush looked worse for wear, sporting several fresh bruises and a bloody lip. When he caught sight of her moving, he leaned over to whisper to her.

‘Mary, it’s the Wet Mafia,’ he whispered.

‘The what?’ she replied, speaking a little too loudly as she was still recovering and didn’t realise her hearing was a little impaired.

‘The Wet… Marflargh!’ Flush cried as a small jet of water splashed against his face.

‘We’re the Wet Mafia,’ said the main with glasses, who was holding what looked like a Tommy gun, but, she now realised, was just an elaborate water pistol. ‘The city’s leading underground distributor of aquatic firearms.’

‘Isn’t aquatic and firearms a bit of an oxymoron?’ Mary asked.

‘Nooo, don’t start on that,’ Flush replied quickly. ‘They hate when you point that out.’

‘Your little friend here is right, we don’t like being called morons,’ said another suited man, cracking his knuckles.

‘We weren’t calling you morons, we were just point out-’ Flush began, but his fellow grime fighter cut him off.

‘Quiet Flush,’ she said, trying to gesture with her hand but unable to move it due to the ropes. ‘I’ve got this.’

‘Yeah, listen to your mom, kid,’ said the man with the freshly cracked knuckles.

‘Cheek! I’m not his mom,’ Mary retorted.

‘No, but I’d be pr-’ Flush began, but once again he was cut off by another splash to the face with water.

‘You’d better start talking, or he’s going to get mighty wet,’ said the man with glasses.

‘I think it’s a bit late for that,’ said Mary, gesturing with her eyes to Flush’s crotch, which was highlighted with a slightly darker teal patch on his trousers. ‘But anyway, there seems to have been a lack of communication our end. If you explain to us what is going on here, we’ll be happy to comply.’

‘We’ve got a shipment of stolen pressure gauges coming in tomorrow,’ the man in glasses explained. ‘They said they’d send someone on ahead tonight with a sample for us to inspect the quality. I’m beginning to think that they didn’t mean you two.’

‘Oh, that!’ Mary chuckled. ‘Yes, sorry, we’ve got a few items to present to clients, see. We weren’t sure which one you were. No, we’ve got that. It’s in my handbag, wherever that’s go to.’

‘It’s here,’ said a suited man who had neither glasses nor cracked knuckles. There was very little about him that was worthy of description, save for a mole on his back that nobody in the room could see. He was standing by a small table that had Mary’s handbag on it. As he began to open it, Mary quickly chimed in.

‘I wouldn’t open that if I were you,’ she said cautiously.

‘What do you mean?’ asked the man in glasses.

‘It’s booby trapped, for security, to prevent anyone else getting hold of it – can’t be too careful. Open that bag the wrong way and you’ll get an electric shock,’ she explained. ‘I wouldn’t want you to get hurt.’

‘Fine, bring it over here,’ the man in glasses instructed.

He stepped aside and the bag was presented to Mary. The other suited man with the well-cracked knuckles undid the restraints on Mary’s arms and she was handed the handbag. She paused for a moment, then quickly swung it around, taking out the three men in suits that had been surrounding her. They slumped to the floor with a thud, which was followed by a gasp from Flush.

‘Quick, let’s get out of here,’ she said.

Not wasting time untying the ropes, they instead hobbled over to the door, chairs and all. Before they got there, however, the door flung open and the familiar face of DCI Dovedale bounded in, pointing a gun straight at them. He was quickly followed by a young Chinese man and a small rabble of officers.

‘It’s them, Chief Inspector,’ he said, pointing to the three suited men on the floor. ‘Those are the ones I spoke to.’

‘And what about these two?’ Dovedale asked.

‘I don’t know, I’ve never seen them before,’ the Chinese man replied.

‘Oh really, inspector,’ Mary tutted. ‘Do you think if we were involved we’d have tie ourselves to chairs and beat ourselves up? We’re civilians who they’ve taken hostage. I managed to disarm them and we were just about to escape. The others are in another room back there somewhere.’

‘Right, yes, of course,’ said the inspector. ‘Thanks for your help in apprehending this lot. We’ve been after the Wet Mafia for months now.’

‘Don’t mention it,’ said Mary.

‘Literally, don’t mention it,’ added Flush. ‘If anyone asks, we were never here, okay?’

‘Right you are. Officer Down, untie these two. The rest of you, follow me,’ said the inspector, pushing past them and gesturing his men to come in and arrest the criminals.

‘Yes boss,’ called Officer Down. ‘I’ll just get a life… uh, a knife.’

Once they were untied, Flush and Mary slipped away and made their way back to the base.

 

 

When Captain Clean, HyJean and Faucet returned to their base, they found Mary sitting at the central table with a damp cloth, tending to Flush’s facial wounds. There was no real need to use a damp cloth, as the blood had dried up and it did nothing to heal the bruising, aside from giving it a glossy shimmer. He would’ve been better with some bruise relief cream, but Mary didn’t know this and was just doing what she’d seen in films and television.

‘What on Earth happened to you?’ HyJean asked when she saw Flush’s face, rushing over to see the injuries for herself.

‘Oh, uh…’ Flush stuttered, having been too busy to think of a cover story.

‘It was me,’ said Mary quickly. ‘I hit him a little too hard during training.

‘A little too hard?’ said HyJean. ‘Gee Mary, you need to calm down a bit.’

‘Or start teaching us your moves,’ Faucet chuckled.

They all sat down at the table, and, as Mary finished pointlessly wiping Flush’s bruises, she put the cloth down and turned to the others.

‘How did it go with the doctor?’ she asked.

‘Not great,’ said Faucet. ‘He’s dead.’

‘Oh god, Cap didn’t give him one of his speeches, did he?’ Flush asked with a smirk.

‘No, he was stabbed by a woman with ice powers who’s also now dead,’ HyJean replied with a serious look.

‘Oh,’ said Flush. It was all he could say really. The squad was lucky not to encounter death too often, so when it did, it came as something as a shock to the system.

‘Did he tell you anything about Nelson?’ Mary asked.

‘He didn’t get the chance,’ HyJean replied, pointing to Captain Clean. ‘Big mouth here was too busy trying to second guess him to let him speak.’

Flush and Mary turned to the captain, hardly surprised but a little disappointed.

‘Now now, we did learn a lot from him,’ the captain pointed out. ‘We found out that LAB was a group of scientists messing with genetics to try and boost evolution. But they got caught and disbanded. Dr Shoal had something to do with Nelson, but we don’t know what.’

‘I just wish he’d told us something more, so we knew what to do next,’ HyJean sighed.

‘Wait, you guys, I think he did,’ said Faucet, who had been sitting silently, pondering the day’s events whilst the others were talking.

‘Uh, no he didn’t,’ said the captain.

‘No, but think about it, he said LAB is,’ said Faucet.

‘Yeah, but LAB is what though?’ asked Flush.

‘Seriously?’ said Faucet with a sigh, looking at each of them as though they were cavemen.

‘Oh! You’re right,’ said HyJean, who suddenly caught on to what he was thinking.

‘Would one of you care to explain?’ asked the captain.

‘He said lab is. Present tense,’ HyJean explained. ‘If LAB was gone like he said, he would’ve said “LAB was”, wouldn’t he?’

‘But he didn’t,’ Faucet continued. ‘He said “LAB is” which means they must still be active.’

‘So we can stop them?’ asked Flush, sitting up a little, encouraged by the revelation. ‘We just need to capture one of their experiments and interrogate them, right?’

‘Nah, they’ll more than likely have their memory wiped like I did,’ Faucet replied.

‘And even then, it wouldn’t be that simple,’ said Captain Clean. ‘Lab isn’t just an organisation it’s – what did Dr Shoal call it – a movement. We couldn’t stop them all.’

‘Cap’s right,’ said HyJean with a defeated sigh as she sat back in her chair. ‘Let’s face it, all we know is there may or may not be an unknown number of scientists god knows where doing God knows what. We can’t fight that. All we can do is be ready, to defend our city from whatever monstrosities they throw our way – no offence Faucet.’

‘None taken,’ said Faucet with a smile.

‘I’m just glad we’re finally getting somewhere,’ said the captain. ‘We may not be able to take them all on, but at least we’ll be one step ahead.’

‘Right then, who’s up for a drink?’ asked Faucet, rubbing her hands together as he remembered his craving for a nice hot cuppa. ‘I think we’ve earned it after the day we’ve had.’

The others all nodded and responded in agreement, getting up from the table to go and change into their regular attire – and in the captain’s case, retrieve his flask of water so that he didn’t have to drink any of the bar’s drinks. As the others left the room, Flush took Mary to one side.

‘Hey, thanks for not ratting on me,’ he whispered.

‘And thank you for a most enjoyable training session,’ Mary replied, patting him on the arm. ‘Most enjoyable indeed.’

 

Meanwhile, in a dimly lit room a few miles away, a shadowy figure sat on a tall office chair watching black and white footage on a monitor. The video showed three masked people gathered around a man with icicles protruding from his chest. As Dr Shoal spoke his final words and died, the monitor was switched off and the shadowy figure sat back and smiled to himself.

‘You have done well, Fraulein. The foolish doctor did not reveal anything to those masked morons,’ said Dr Ozone in his unmistakable German accent. He turned to Sarah, the ice woman, who had been standing next to him watching the footage. She nodded silently. Dr Ozone handed her a large wad of money and ushered her away. ‘Thank you. You may leave. I shall let our friends know that our secrets are safe.’