Write to Rank: 2023

Orange Belt: Antagonizing Failure

Three days after his grandfather's funeral, Ian agreed to get someone fired.

The giant yellow M of the enemy's store shone as a beacon for every hungry customer. Ian stood beside a fountain with statues of two important men shaking hands. Beneath his inconspicuous black and gray uniform, he wore a mic that recorded every interaction.

"You must be the new trainee." A man laid a palm-larger than Ian's face-on his shoulder. His target, Dennis Johnson or "Shorts" as the higher ups called him, stood at six foot and in the tightest uniform shorts imaginable.

"I'm Ian." The words came out higher pitched than he intended. His grandfather always said he was more related to a squeaky toy than him.

"It's nice to meet ya." Shorts grinned.

"You too." Ian followed him into enemy territory.

The man wasn't what he expected. Since his promotion, Shorts had been nothing but a pain to the higher ups, calling out every unfair rule or situation. Despite being nearly fired six times, Shorts always found technicalities to sneak by. That's when Ian was brought in with the promise of being a manager upon Shorts' leave.

The staff members waved to them while preparing to open. Ian saw his first opportunity to strike in the form of a container of clean utensils resting on the counter.

"Since you've completed the welcome training, you can start learning your station," Shorts said. "Being new an..."

Ian's elbow caught the utensil container. Spatulas, tongs, and spoons clattered against the tiled floor.

The giant man neared, towering over him. He sucked in a breath.

Was Shorts a yeller? Or was he the type to shake his prey to death? Ian just hoped he'd be alive to enjoy the manager role he deserved.

"You must be nervous." Shorts bent down to pick up the utensils. "We'll wash them together. It'll be a good chance to learn the tricks of the faucet."

How could he not have gotten mad? His grandfather's words from when Ian got in a fight rushed through his mind: The big ones are usually softies. If you just get to know them, you'd make some friends.

When Shorts finished picking up, he handed Ian the container. "Don't feel bad. Things like this happen to everyone."

Next time he'd break his enemy for sure.

After dishes, Shorts taught Ian to use the grill. He burned or undercooked four orders only for Shorts to swoop in and talk through the process. It was sickening how patient the guy was. When their lunch break came, he threw Shorts' lunch on the ground.

"I'm not sure what happened." Ian shrugged.

This had to be it.

He faced Shorts, the mic picking up every word. Ian's thoughts spun rapidly: Bring on the violence. Yell. Scream. Get angry.

"It's all good." Not even one ounce of frustration crossed Shorts' face. "I'll have a salad instead."

Ian's eye twitched, his hands clenching his lunch bag.

~ ~ ~

The sheer number of people in the food court brought back memories of his grandfather's funeral. He could never make his grandpa proud. The man was constantly telling him to work harder to make friends, to find a job he loved-one thing after another of impossible requests. Even now, Ian was trying his best to get this guy fired so he could be in management, and it still wasn't working.

"Hey, you okay?" Shorts asked.

"I'm fine."

"It's not easy. Especially in the beginning, but you'll get it if you keep trying." The trainer smiled.

Ian sighed. "How can you be so positive? I've done everything possible wrong-"

"That's not true," Shorts interrupted. "You showed up. That counts for something."

"You don't understand." Ian only showed up so he could get this guy fired. How terrible was he? Shorts was likely the best trainer out there and yet Ian was trying to get him fired only to get promoted himself. None of it was worth it.

"My grandpa died last week." Ian held back tears. He didn't know why he was crying. He wasn't even sure why he confided in Shorts of all people.

"That's so tough. I can't believe you didn't call in." Tears formed in Shorts' green eyes. Did he have something similar happen or was he really that empathetic? "Take the rest of the day off. I'll talk to management."

Ian nodded, a small smile creeping onto his face. Though he'd never see Shorts again, he had to tell him the truth. "You're a great trainer."

Shorts waved while he walked away. Ian stopped at the fountain, ripping the mic off his shirt. He was done taking deals to climb up the ladder. He threw the device, listening to the satisfying sounds of static and rushing water.

Word count: 798 words.

Prompt: You are tasked with a covert mission deep behind enemy lines. Soon things take a turn for the worse, what happened? You can use any characters and any setting as long as it's action-packed. Oh, and you can only write in an active voice.