Six Feet Under

Chapter three: Food fight!

It would be easy, they said. It would be fun, they said. Well, you know what they can all go eat a shit sandwich. My first mission was about to be my last. My boss, Jonathan, decided that Shades McGuy and I were destined to be partners. He wanted us not only to be partners, but he wanted us to actually get along.

However, that was easier said than done. I was with Carter, who will be known as Shades from now on, only for ten minutes, and I did not want to punch him. I NEEDED TO GUT HIM ALIVE. He could not keep himself from saying what came to his mind. I finally understood what people meant when they told me to think before speaking. I had the same tendencies, but I was not as infuriating or condescending. The reason is that he wouldn't insult you. In his words, he would be relaying the truth of the universe. AKA HIS TRUTH. So with both of us being numbskulls who did not think before speaking, we both were spewing insults and threats in no time.

For what seemed to be an eternity, we kept going for each other's necks until we got to a room filled with weapons and varied apparel. Without skipping a beat, he looked at me with disdain and said: 

-So, hey fatass, this is the armory. All of the active agents and employees of our company get their supplies from this room. The smith will be the one to make you a custom build. However, you will not be getting one until you fulfill certain criteria.

-What are those criteria? I retorted.

-Very simple, you prove that you are not a waste of oxygen and space. Well, for the space part, there is nothing much you can do, you swine. Lastly, stay healthy and keep my paychecks even healthier. Then and only then, you might be worth the scrap metal that will be used for your build.

Then, out of nowhere, Carter got close to me, maybe even too close. He then spat out.

 -Though don't worry your fat-filled head, you will never be worth a single ounce of scrap.

 Breath in, breath out. If I got mad and decked him in the schnoz, I would be in a lot of trouble. I left the armory with a taste of defeat in my mouth and in my soul. After a few steps in the hallway, something hit me square in the back of my head. I turned around, ready to hit Shades, but he was nowhere to be seen. He had left, leaving me in a state of utter rage. I looked down and saw an old keycard. I inspected it while going to the cafeteria. 
By trial and error, I figured out that it opened almost every door in the building. Well, at least all the doors that lead to the cafeteria.

Hungry was one word to describe how I felt. Famished was another one. Furious was also one, and food was the remedy to my anger. I got to the canteen singing a made-up song.

 "Pizza on a Friday, noodles at night.

burgers in the backyard, what a tasty sight.

Spices from the market, sweets on the street.

Every little bite makes my day complete."

I got to the counter and ordered my favorite. Pizza with meatballs and pepperoni. Weirdly enough, they had their own restaurant brand. Furthermore, there was one right in the building. Which is quite weird. 

-How big is this damn building?

I took the plate and started to reach for the table on the other side of the room, right next to a huge window that gave a view of the whole city. 

Suddenly, out of nowhere, the floor made contact with my food. Someone had bumped into me and did not even apologize. Who was the motherfucker that made my food fall? I looked up only to see Carter Whrights with his shaded glasses. He was grinning at me. 

I don't know what made me react the way I did. Maybe it was when someone yelled, "Food fight." Or the fact that he made me drop my food. I grabbed my dirtied food and threw it on the asshole's head. He turned around and yelled:

 -Who the fuck threw their food at me?

At first, he did not notice me, but I got closer and closer. I then got into position, and my fist accidentally landed directly on his stomach. The impact made him fall to his knees. He got up, took off his glasses, and put them on the table next to him. He glared at me for a second and snarled:

-You want to give me your food, how about I give you my knuckle sandwich! Say AAAAH!!!

 He then punched me multiple times. I couldn't parry, block, or dodge. I could only endure. When he finished, I was swollen and bleeding. I couldn't see anymore. My vision was red and blurry. He spat on me and said, "Didn't think you were that hungry."