Occupational hazard

Joey had officially decided that working for Greta was the strangest job on Earth.

Possibly in several dimensions.

He stood in the center of the workshop wearing thick leather gloves, heavy goggles, and what Greta insisted was an "explosion-resistant apron."

It looked suspiciously like an ordinary barbecue apron.

"Remind me," Joey called from behind a stack of crates, "why exactly am I wearing safety equipment?"

Greta didn't even glance up from the ledger she was writing in.

"Because those are cursed fireworks."

Joey looked down at the brightly painted bundle in his hands.

"They look normal."

"They aren't."

"What happens?"

Greta shrugged.

"Nobody knows."

"..."

"..."

"...You want me to LIGHT the unidentified magical explosives?"

"Yep."

Joey sighed.

"I miss Burger Chief."

"No you don't."

"...You're right."

---

The workshop sat behind Greta's storefront in a reinforced stone courtyard specifically designed for "things that shouldn't happen indoors."

Joey was learning that this described roughly half of Greta's inventory.

He cautiously placed one of the fireworks into an iron launch tube.

"Ready?"

Greta nodded.

"Probably."

"Probably?"

"I've got confidence in you."

"That is somehow less reassuring."

He lit the fuse.

It hissed.

Sparked.

Shot into the sky—

Then exploded with a spectacular *BOOM!*

For one glorious second...

nothing unusual happened.

Joey relaxed.

"Oh, maybe they're just norm—"

The explosion suddenly reassembled itself.

Every spark reversed direction, flew back together, and exploded a second time.

Then a third.

Then a fourth.

Each explosion happened in reverse, then forward again.

The sky looked like someone had pressed rewind and fast-forward at the same time.

Greta watched thoughtfully.

"Huh."

"What?"

"They're indecisive."

---

The second firework exploded into a flock of glowing ducks.

The ducks quacked aggressively at everyone nearby before flying into the clouds.

Greta made a note.

"Cursed waterfowl."

"You wrote that down like it happens often."

"It does."

---

The third one...

screamed.

Not loudly.

Just...

disappointed.

"Aaaaaaaaaaa..."

It floated sadly downward while making increasingly depressed noises.

Joey blinked.

"...Is it okay?"

Greta listened.

"I think it's going through something."

---

The fourth produced hundreds of tiny sparkling letters that arranged themselves in the sky.

**YOU ARE DOING GREAT.**

Joey smiled.

"...Well that's actually kind of ni—"

The words changed.

**FOR SOMEONE WITH MEDIOCRE HAIR.**

Greta barked a laugh.

The message lingered for almost a full minute.

Joey crossed his arms.

"I liked it better before."

---

By lunchtime Greta had documented twelve new magical effects.

Joey had nearly lost his eyebrows twice.

Overall...

a successful morning.

---

Greta leaned against the counter inside the shop.

"You've earned lunch."

"I thought surviving was my lunch."

"That too."

Joey grinned as he stepped outside carrying a paper bag from the sandwich shop across the street.

It was a beautiful afternoon.

Warm.

Quiet.

Peaceful.

Which immediately made him suspicious.

Cassandra's training had drilled one lesson into him more than any other.

**Notice when the world becomes too quiet.**

His smile faded.

He slowed.

Listened.

Cars.

Wind.

Birds...

No.

Not birds.

There should have been birds.

---

His enhanced hearing picked up something else instead.

Footsteps.

Behind him.

Two.

No...

Three.

---

Joey didn't turn.

He simply shifted the paper bag into his left hand.

His right drifted toward the machete hidden beneath his jacket.

A reflection in a parked car confirmed it.

Three men.

Walking casually.

Closing distance.

Too casually.

---

The first attack came exactly as Cassandra had predicted it would.

Not from directly behind.

From the side.

Joey pivoted before the blade arrived.

His machete cleared its sheath with a metallic whisper.

The silver runes ignited.

Steel met steel.

The impact rang through the street.

The attacker's illusion shattered instantly.

Human skin peeled away like broken glass.

Green scales.

Yellow eyes.

A mouth full of needle teeth.

The lizardman hissed.

"...There you are," Joey muttered.

---

The other two abandoned subtlety.

They rushed him together.

Weeks ago...

Joey would have panicked.

Today...

He moved.

One ducked low.

The second came high.

Exactly like Cassandra had taught him.

"Never chase the weapon.

Attack the person."

Joey stepped inside the first strike.

Elbow.

Knee.

Silver blade.

The scout stumbled backward clutching his chest.

The cursed machete sang with eerie delight.

The second swung a hooked blade.

Joey caught the wrist.

Twisted.

Used the attacker's momentum to throw him into the brick wall.

The crack echoed down the alley.

---

The third scout charged roaring.

Joey met him head-on.

One clean diagonal slash.

Silver flashed.

The creature collapsed before it understood what had happened.

---

Silence returned.

Joey stood breathing heavily.

Three bodies.

Three victories.

He slowly lowered the machete.

"...Holy..."

He actually did it.

By himself.

---

Behind the bodies...

Something smiled.

It had watched the entire fight.

Completely invisible.

Its skin shifted colors continuously.

Brick.

Concrete.

Shadow.

Glass.

A perfect predator.

Its long claws slid silently from hidden forearms.

This wasn't a scout.

It was an executioner.

It moved.

Soundless.

Joey never heard it.

Never saw it.

The blade rose behind his neck.

---

A massive green hand exploded through the creature's chest.

Not punched.

Exploded.

Ribs.

Organs.

Black blood sprayed across the alley wall.

The invisible scales flickered wildly as the creature shrieked.

Greta stood behind it.

One enormous arm buried elbow-deep through its torso.

Her expression wasn't amused.

It wasn't annoyed.

It was furious.

"You."

Her voice shook windows.

"Attacked."

She pulled her arm free in a spray of gore.

"My employee."

The chameleon creature stumbled backward, somehow still alive.

It hissed desperately.

Tried to disappear again.

Greta reached down.

Grabbed one of its legs.

"Absolutely not."

She swung the creature overhead once.

Twice.

Three times.

Its body slammed through a parked dumpster.

Metal folded inward with a deafening crunch.

Before it could recover, Greta ripped the steel dumpster door completely off its hinges.

She clamped the creature inside.

Folded the door shut.

Then, with a roar that sounded almost ogre rather than human, she brought both fists down onto the metal container.

The dumpster compressed like an empty soda can.

Bones snapped.

Steel screamed.

Black blood seeped from every seam.

Greta lifted the flattened heap with one hand.

Looked inside.

"Hm."

She nodded once.

"Dead enough."

Then she casually tossed the crushed dumpster into the store's scrap pile.

---

Joey stared.

"..."

"..."

"I..."

Greta looked at him.

"You okay?"

Joey slowly pointed toward the compacted wreckage.

"...You Mortal Kombat finished him."

Greta frowned.

"I don't know what that means."

"It means..."

Joey swallowed.

"...I'm suddenly very motivated to finish my inventory reports on time."

Greta smiled.

"Good."

She clapped him on the shoulder.

Hard enough that his knees buckled.

"Come on."

She started walking back toward the shop.

"We've still got cursed fireworks to identify."

Joey looked once more at the mangled remains of the assassin.

Then hurried after her.

"...Best boss I've ever had."

Greta grinned without looking back.

"I know."