A Team Fit for a Nobody

“What did he have to say?” Chrysanthemum looked back to Bentley as she paced quickly down the hallways with him in tow.

“Just typical old man stuff like shuffleboard and euchre,” said Bentley. He was unsure why he felt like he could not tell Chrysanthemum the content of the conversation him and the old man had just had. He figured it might have something to do with the fact that he had yet to fully grasp the implications of the discussion himself but worried that the instinct to keep quiet about this matter came from a much darker place.

“I have a hard time believing that,” Chrysanthemum said, her nervousness was evident to even Bentley as oblivious as he was.

“Yeah it surprised me too, I know you said that it was supposed to be some important convo but the old man just rambled on about nothing. I think he might be going senile,” Bentley said. He hated to be lying to Chrysanthemum so recently after his angry outburst a few days prior but he did not feel as if he had much of a choice. Revealing that he was the key to saving the world would have either caused him to look insane or, if people believed him, painted a massive target on his back.

“Whatever you say,” she said, clearly still not buying Bentley’s lies but choosing not to pursue the matter further for the time being.

“Anyways, where are we going?” Bentley felt desperate to change the subject as he remembered the knife stashed in Chrysanthemum’s pocket that could be used to force the truth out of him.

“To introduce you to some people,” she said.

“Am I going to meet that General guy now? If so, can you tell me anything about him so that I can relate? Does he watch any baseball? Don’t tell anyone but I’m trying to cozy up to him so I can get a pay raise sooner rather than later,” Bentley joked.

Chrysanthemum turned around and Bentley noticed that her face had turned an uncharacteristic shade of red. She no longer looked like the definition of professional and for a moment reminded Bentley of the girls from his high school when they would confess to their crushes on the last day before summer. Bentley had never been on the receiving end of one of those confessions but was such a forgettable presence that he had been in the room while many occurred.

“Did I say something wrong?” Bentley scratched his head in confusion.

“You won’t be meeting with the General right now so there’s no need for any of that,” Chrysanthemum said. She spoke in an almost whisper that barely was able to be registered by Bentley's ears. He massaged his temples trying to figure out why she would have gotten so embarrassed by him mentioning her boss, unfortunately perception had never been something he was particularly gifted with.

“She must really respect her boss,” Bentley decided in his head.

Chrysanthemum turned her back to Bentley and resumed her speed walking at an even more blinding pace than before. The whole place felt like a maze to Bentley, with every hallway looking the exact same as the last. He hustled to keep up with Chrysanthemum, knowing that without her, he would find himself permanently lost in this underground network.

Finally, after endless twists and turns, Chrysanthemum stopped in front of a door on the wall. She stood staring at the doorknob for a second, refusing to even reach out for it.

“Maybe you should go in first Bentley,” she said without turning her head.

“I don’t really see why but your wish is my comma—WAAA!”

Bentley’s attempts at flirting were thwarted as soon as he opened the door by a figure that had flown out of the room and tackled him. Before Bentley could even react, he was flat on his back while the figure stood over him with a foot on his neck.

Bentley followed the foot up to its source with his eyes. The figure made shadowy by the fluorescent lights, much like those in the hospital where May stayed, became more clear as Bentley’s eyes adjusted. A disheveled looking boy that looked about Bentley’s age stood growling down at the choking Bentley. An unkempt mop of red hair hung down over the angry face. His white uniform looked as if the sleeves had been forcefully ripped off, only adding to his already poor appearance. Bentley squinted at the strangely shaped items the boy held in both hands, something he had only seen in history books.

“I’m Jack ya hear, Two Mace Jack!”

Sure enough, the boy held a shiny rod with a spiked ball on the end in both hands. Bentley thought they were something that had stopped being used in the medieval times but the redhead that threatened to send him spiraling into unconsciousness challenged that notion.

“AKH—Get this psycho off me,” Bentley squeezed out through his constrained vocal chords. He struggled against the foot but it refused to move from atop his neck.

Chrysanthemum had been watching the entire spectacle laughing hysterically, proud of herself for setting up such a scenario and not appearing to have any intention of stepping in.

“How many times have I told you about the importance of first impressions,” a voice sighed as another figure stepped out of the room.

“All it takes is one time fer a killer ta get tha best of us, so I’d rather jump everyone, Saint or sinner, and save figurin’ out which is which fer later,” Jack, or rather Two Mace Jack said.

“B-b-be easy on him Jack,” a third voice, this one more feminine, emerged from the room.

The two figures that had emerged from the room began to take shape for Bentley, despite his vision fuzzying from the lack of air.

The first voice belonged to a rather skinny and well-kept boy. He wore a very fitting pair of glasses and had his silver hair combed over neatly so that not a strand was out of place. He wore his uniform rather well and his tie looked tied better than any tie Bentley had ever seen, as if some robot programmed only to tie ties had been behind it. The only thing that looked off about him was a pair of what looked to be nunchucks draped over his shoulder.

The second voice belonged to a very short girl. She tucked in close to the one she had called Chuck, the top of her blonde head not even reaching his armpit. Her face was caked with makeup which created a very contrasting appearance from the sledgehammer the size of her whole body she had strapped across her back. The skirt of her uniform stopped a fair amount before her legs which would’ve enticed Bentley had he not committed himself to Chrysanthemum unbeknownst to her. He would’ve averted his gaze but his vision had already started to go black so it was not necessary.

Right before his consciousness left him, Bentley felt the foot leave from his throat. Bentley coughed and spat as his lungs were assaulted by the influx of air into his now reopened esophagus. From his limited interaction with the redheaded boy, Bentley figured he wasn’t the type to show mercy, so he wondered why he suddenly relented.

“Damn it Grady,” said Two Mace Jack.

Bentley turned his head to the side and saw the strangest character yet.

An incredibly lanky person crouched down beside Bentley. He looked downright skeletal, whether that was due to the lack of any meat on his bones or the pale white paint that covered his face, Bentley was unsure. The boy wore a black beret, a black and white striped shirt, and a black pair of pants with red suspenders. Bentley hadn’t seen someone dressed like this since he had been to the fair when he was younger.

“Are you a mime?”

In response to Bentley’s question, the boy nodded rapidly before making a zipping motion across his lips, confirming his devotion to the golden rule of miming: No Talking. The mime that Jack had called Grady then patted an invisible platform of some sort directly over Bentley’s throat.

“You’re lucky Grady formed that over your throat, otherwise you’d be seeing stars right now intruder,” said Two Mace Jack.

“Can he really form invisible things? Is that some type of magic?” After all the things that Bentley had seen in the past few weeks, this mime possessing a magical ability would hardly have surprised him.

“Oh no, he’s just a regular mime in every way. Jack just isn’t so heartless as to ignore Grady’s art,” the boy with glasses said, extending a hand to help up Bentley. Bentley took it and got to his feet.

Chrysanthemum popped out from behind him and leaned in close enough to make Bentley blush before gesturing to the four people that had emerged from the room.

“Well Bentley, I’d like to introduce you to your new team,” she said with a smile.

“Huh?”

“You didn’t think we’d be sending you into the field to fight Cerbs alone did you?”

“No but I figured it’d be me and you working together again,” Bentley said, trying to mask his immediate disappointment.

“Hehe this fool has a thing fer tha boss,” Two Mace Jack chuckled.

“What do you know? You seem one marker sniff away from being committed to a psych ward,” Bentley said, his face turning doubly red from anger and embarrassment. The two growled at each other before Chrysanthemum stepped in and put a hand on Bentley’s shoulder.

“Me being in the field last time was a result of us having an agent shortage, it’s an incredibly rare occurrence. I’m usually here working behind the scenes at Command Center,” she said. Bentley’s face drooped.

“I will be overseeing your missions though and directing you through earpieces though,” she added hurriedly as she saw Bentley’s spirits drop. The thought of being able to at least hear Chrysanthemum’s voice did make Bentley feel a bit better, however this threw his plan to make her fall in love with him way off course.

“Anyways,” the boy with glasses spoke up, “We’re glad to meet you Bentley.”

“Where are my manners, it’s nice to meet you too,” Bentley said and shook his hand. The boy’s hands were surprisingly soft to the touch, like those of a piano player. Though the nunchucks hanging over his shoulder seemed to imply the presence of a different, more violent hobby.

“My name is Chuck, and don’t worry the irony is not lost on me,” he said before nodding to the weapon he carried, “I’m a master nunchakuka.”

He pointed to the girl who stood behind him.

“This is Corinne, she may look like an angel but she’s a terror when wielding that sledgehammer.”

The small girl curtsied shyly in response, her eyes darting around so as to avoid eye contact at all costs.

Chuck then moved on to the one known as Two Mace Jack.

“This is Jack, or Two Mace Jack if you care to use his self-proclaimed nickname which none of us do. As you can see, his weapons of choice are two medieval maces.”

“How does one even get good with those things?” Bentley had been wondering this since he had first noticed them, having not seen one in person for his whole life up to that point.

“My parents owned one of them medieval-themed restaurants so I worked there growin’ up,” Jack chimed in, “We lost lotsa good men in those duels.” His eyes had glazed off towards the end of the sentence and he now appeared lost in thought.

“Did you just casually admit to beating up your coworkers?”

“Don’t mind him, he’s a little off,” Chuck laughed before moving on to the mime.

“This is Grady,” Chuck announced, “What he lacks in the ability to speak, he more than makes up for in his ability with a crowbar.”

As if on command, Grady the mime seemingly pulled a crowbar out of thin air and brandished it like a knight’s sword.

Chuck pushed his slipping glasses back up to the bridge of his nose before moving his gaze to Bentley expectantly.

Bentley stood there in silence. What should he say, what could he say? Was he truly special in any way? The old man had said that he was the key to saving the world but that was none of Bentley’s own doing. He was still the same old Bentley. How could he proclaim himself to be someone possessing a unique talent of any sort?

“That’s right, I’m talentless aren’t I?”

His thoughts were interrupted by a familiar force throwing itself into his back and propelling himself into the middle of the semicircle formed by the other team members.

“This is Bentley,” Chrysanthemum said, waving her arms in a grand gesture like some circus ringleader, “Put a baseball bat in his hand and he becomes a hero unlike anyone I’ve ever seen.”

The confidence he had felt while leaving the old man’s cell resurfaced once again.

“It’s a pleasure to be working with you,” Bentley said with a bow.