Danger Zone. ● Sterling Archer.

Blood Test.

ALTHOUGH ISIS was saved from being sold, Malory still needed to find a way to prevent it from being shut down altogether since she was broke. So, after a few days, she came up with the solution to lease out three floors of the building, and sell the cleaners to a middle aged, retired loansharking pimp named Popeye, which Archer wasn't exactly thrilled about because, apparently, the two share a bad blood type of history, which I guess it's because Archer has a frequent desire for hookers.

Or Archer was just stupid enough to borrow money from a loanshark in the first place, and have a debt pile up to three grand, causing Popeye to hold onto his suits as collateral, but hey, that's none of my business.

"Morning, Popeye." I greeted once I entered the cleaners, the small bell above me chiming. Today, with my hair naturally down, I wore a long sleeve black turtleneck that was tucked into a pair of black skinny jeans with suspenders, and I was footed with a pair of black combat boots.

"Morning." Popeye greeted back in his husky but calm tone as he sat behind the counter, not bothering glancing up at me as he seemed preoccupied with writing things down on his notepad, and calculating using a receipt printer. Popeye was a tall, skinny African American man with short, black hair, that had soft grey streaks inked on the right side, and a black matching mustache and goatee. He wore a red sweater vest over a white short sleeve polo shirt, a pair of brown khakis, black dress shoes, and had a chain around his neck that held his reading glasses.

Within the short amount of time of knowing him, I've came to the conclusion that he wasn't much of a talker unless it dealt with business, or simply putting Archer in his place. Still, he seemed friendly enough, even though we've only exchanged a couple words with each other.

So, I smiled, and headed over to the elevator, letting him continue working as that was part of my agenda as well, or at least I thought. I was gonna find out that this day was gonna be another shenanigan day.

Maybe a little more unexpected than usual.

When I arrived upstairs, the first thing that took me by surprised was that the strongest whiff of bleach went straight up my nostrils, and out my eyes, nearly causing them to burn. "Good God." I groaned out as I covered up my nose, and continued to walk through the office.

From the distance, I seen a cringing Cheryl standing behind her desk, wearing yellow rubber gloves while holding a spray cleaning bottle, which most likely contained the bleach, basing it on the smell, and the fact that she had an actual, large bleach bottle resting on her desk.

"Jesus, Cheryl." I said as I approached her desk.

"Carol." Cheryl corrected, causing me to sigh as I dropped my hand, watching as she sprayed her desk a couple mores times before beginning to scrub it with a sponge she held in her other hand.

"Usually people who use this much bleach are trying to get rid of evidence." I pointed out, earning her gaze as I quirked up my eyebrows. "Like, blood, for example?" Cheryl scoffed as she looked back down.

"I wish it were blood." I furrowed my eyebrows as she continued scrubbing her desk. "Blood of the stupid, disgusting, whiny innocent!" Cheryl exclaimed softly, causing me to quirk up my eyebrows.

"What?" I questioned, causing her to sigh heavily.

"Nevermind." Cheryl breathed out as she glanced up at me. "Have you seen Mr. Archer?" I slowly shook my head. "They're expecting him."

"They?" I questioned with furrowed eyebrows as she grinned deviously.

"See for yourself." I blinked as Malory's already closed door opened, giving me the assumption that Cheryl had opened it up for me as she quirked up her eyebrows, and motioned her head for me to go inside.