Chapter 18: The Unstoppable Against The Immovable

“Damn it, Job, I told you, I didn’t need you working here!” Cop complained, taking a deep breath of frustration as she stomped forwards.

“Yeah toots? Den how come you went and hired this little guy?” he answered. “Looks to me like you needed da help after all, and I’m da best of da best,” he smiled.

“The best at… Cleaning?” Rhett asked.

The elf shuddered with rage, whirling on him. “Da best at everyting! I got sixty-seven jobs an’ countin, you rat. Every job in dis town, cept one,” he turned to Cop, raising an eyebrow.

“You don’t have the Breaking jobs,” Cop answered.

He looked away shamefully, sneering as he let out a puff of frustration. “Me an’ dem fine upstandin’ Orcs? We got ourselves an ‘agreement’, see?” he answered.

“You mean they bashed your head in so hard you started talking funny after you snuck in to a worksite and demolished a hutstack without [Break Better] to make it worthwhile,” she answered, crossing her arms.

“Price of doin bidness, ya broad. You can’t make a wood-omelet widout breakin a few tree-eggs, if you get my meaning,” he responds.

“Well, iffin that’s the price, how about we do business?” she answered, cracking her knuckles. “You want that, boy, you want to do business?” she asked.

Rhett backed away. “Whoa, hey, you two, surely we don’t have to get all bent out of shape over this, right? I mean, all this place does is clean stuff!”

They both turned to him. “Stay outta this!” they said in unison.

Job blinked several times. “Actually, you stay in this, rat, youse the one I got bidness wit anyway,” he answered, reaching into his coat.

Rhett scrambled, flopping on his rear as he flicked open his proportionally gigantic pocket knife, holding out defensively.

Cop charged forward, her bulk crashing into the elf. “Rhett, run!” she cried out, as the thing in his hands tumbled to the floor.

Rhett made to do so, only to freeze when he saw what the Elf had grabbed for.

It was a stamp, the backwards text on it roughly read as ‘I’m Fired’. It was wet with ordinary ink, but both the Elf and the Orc treated it like a loaded firearm.

“He’s a Mad Employee, Rhett!” she cried out.

“Get offa me you crazy broad!” Job roared, struggling against her, his feathery cap slipping back off his head.

Rhett was utterly confused.

“Hmph. I didn’t want to do dis, but you left me no choice!” he growled, grabbing the stamp off the ground and whapping her with it. Her shoulder was promptly marked with “I’m Fired”.

She stumbled back, as if shot.

“No…” she whispered.

“Cop, what happened? Are you alright?!” Rhett asked.

“...I’m fired,” she muttered, “R-run,” she whispered, as she went over and began filling out her end-of-employment forms.

“I thought you owned this business? What the hell is going on here?!” Rhett exclaimed.

The Elf shook his head sadly. “I hate ta see it. You had a good job toots. A real good job. Still, we gotta make hard choices in da bidness,” Job said, saddened.

Reaching under his cloak, he pulled out a stiff pink piece of paper, like a playing card.

“Now it’s your turn, rat. Aftah you’re fired, A-Guy-Who-Has-The-Ultimate-Job will be da only one in town who’s workin’ in every single profession,” he said, stalking forward.

“...Is this a prank? Am I hallucinating right now? What the fuck are you talking about?”

The Elf sneered. “What else, rat? I’m talkin’ about legacy. When I got a spot at every job in town, I’ll be da best fit guy to inherit da Mayor’s spot when he’s kicked da bucket.”

Flicking his hand, the elf shot the pink card at Rhett, who barely managed to dodge it as it bounced harmlessly off the wood. “Okay…? How? Why?...” he muttered.

“How in the hell is a piece of paper supposed to make me quit my job?” he asked incredulously. “Is this some kind of mind control magic or something?!” he demanded, brandishing his copper knife at them.

The Elf just laughed. “Magic? Dat’s for suckers! Everyone knows you get fired when you get a pink slip. It’s da Law!”

“What, the Mayor’s law? Who said that?” he asked, dodging out of the way of another flicked pink card.

“Wh- it’s da Law! Are you stupid or somethin’?” he growled, fumbling around in his coat for something stronger.

“There’s not even anything written on it!” he barked back.

The Elf seemed to grow more incensed at this, pulling out a gun-shaped mass of wires and wood.

Rhett leapt out of the way as it shot a flaming match at him, the Ratling diving back to put it out by smothering it under a bell. “What the hell is wrong with you?” he growled, diving down off the shelf and avoiding another lit match.

“Well, why do you think they call it gettin’ Fired? Fire’s got deleterious effects on employment ah course!” he snarled. “One shot from my Termination Notice, and you’re canned!” he exclaimed.

Rhett bit his ankle.

The Elf’s eyes widened, and he shrieked in agony, kicking Rhett away and into a wall.

“What da Hellscape!?!” he cried out.

“You’re crazy! Cop, help me out here!” Rhett pleaded.

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“I can’t… I’m unemployed,” she said hollowly, sitting on the bench nearby, meant for customers.

He blinked in baffled, vague disgust, dodging another match and smothering it with his apron, batting the flame out before it could catch.

“Don’t worry toots, you do me a few favors, and you’ll be back in work in no time,” he sneered, pulling out a handful of pink slips, folded into little paper shuriken.

He didn’t know how any of this was happening, but Rhett was starting to figure out what was happening, at least.

“Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to leave!” he exclaimed, causing the Elf to freeze.

Rhett’s eyes widened as the elf actually started physically shifting, his feet sliding towards the door as he narrowed his eyes at the ratling.

“Clever. Youse is da only person workin’ here now, ain’t you? But I’m just a payin’ customer!” he said, whipping out a handful of copper coins, and pitching them with near-perfect dexterity until they landed in the till.

His feet stopped sliding, but it was a crack in the facade. Blood dripped from the Elf’s ankle, and he could still taste the same in his mouth.

As the panic faded, and the adrenaline with it, Rhett’s mind buzzed painfully as his back began to throb with previously unnoticed stings. He had just gotten kicked into a wall, hadn’t he?

In a physical fight, this guy was just going to stomp him into a bloody smear, but on his own playing field… He had weaknesses.

He took a deep breath. He looked at Cop, whose dismal expression bolstered him.

The two stalked around one another, and as they did, Rhett slowly pulled out his rag, ditching his apron, and even his mask. Lightening his load. His body. More of his ‘set’ was bare fur, and with that, came a supernatural reduction in weight.

Job, meanwhile, had a pink slip… No, a [Pink Slip], between each finger. The employment-terminating stars gleaming with the telltale sheen of lamination.

“...”

They yelled in unison, Rhett relying his [Armor of the Ratbeast] to stay lightweight enough to dodge between the pieces of thrown paper.

The Elf tried to back away, pulling back for a kick, but that was exactly the plan. Rhett flicked his rag dramatically, the Trick sending it flying out to clean the floor right behind the Elf.

His foot landed on the animate rag, and he fell over with a painful ‘oof’.

Rhett could have done many things at that moment, but one thought was burning in his mind. He was too panicked to think of anything else.

He sunk his sharpened teeth into Job’s shoe, yanking it off as fast as he possibly could, barely managing to get the fancy shoe off as Job kicked out, sending him skittering across the floor painfully.

“What da Hellscape?” he shouted again, confused and a little disturbed by the rat spitting with disgust.

“You think a missin’ shoe’s gonna beat me, rat?” he growled, climbing to his feet.

Rhett smiled, a bitter thing. “No shoes, no shirt, no service. I’m afraid you have to leave.”

He was no longer a paying customer. He didn’t have both shoes on.

The Elf froze, a look of panic in his eyes as the pull redoubled, and he clawed at the planks, trying to resist his own Law driving him to leave.

“I- I want to speak to da Manager!” he shouted.

The pull stuttered, not long, but for the briefest moment. The Elf’s expression turned into one of victory, as he freed his hand long enough to flick one final [Pink Slip] at Rhett.

The star smacked him in the chest.

Nothing happened.

“W-what? But- but youse is fired now! It’s the Law!”

The pull continued. The Elf’s Master Employee powers failing to grip the rat.

“It’s impossible! Nobody what cares about dere job could stand dere like you aftah gettin’ fired!”

He realized with horror who he was looking at. What.

Rhett jabbed a thumb at his chest. “This is more of a hobby to me,” he announced in realization.

“NO!” Job roared. “Dis ain’t over! Youse hear me?!” he screamed, nearly to the door, which chimed merrily behind him as the bell jingled.

Rhett tilted his head. “...I’m calling the police.”

The door opened, and the Elf Mundanus’s Laws, now completely turned against him, betrayed him one final time.

In the doorway, a guard was waiting. “I heard the commotion. What’s going on here?”

He looked down at Job, who flew over and landed in a heap in front of the guard.

“Oh, I see. Gods damn it,” the Elfin Guard sighed, grabbing the extravagantly coated trespasser by the back of his coat, dragging him out of the building.

Rhett bonelessly collapsed, exhausted and aching all over.

–

After a few minutes of just sitting there, he finally re-donned most of his outfit, and made his way over to Cop, who had her head in her hands.

“Hey, you alright?” he asked.

“No. I got fired from my own damn shop, kid,” she groaned.

“It’s literally just ink, though? Is it mind controlling ink or something?” he asked.

She looked confused. “No. It’s a Law. Damn Madmen. That guy, Job, he was a Mad Employee. A Mundanus,” she began.

“He was able to figure out Laws of Employment that pushed the limits of what was possible as an Employee. I guess the shop’s yours now,” she sighed.

“So… I could just hire you back?” he attempted, squinting at the absurdity.

Cop shook her head miserably. “I couldn’t be hired now any more than… I don’t know, I could flap my wings and fly,” she groused. “Not with this damn thing on me,” she explained, gesturing to the ‘I’m Fired’ ink on her shoulder.

“It’s permanent ink too. This isn’t the first time he’s managed to get away with this. Job’s made a lot of enemies, no matter what he thinks.”

Rhett was still very confused, but if she thought it had some kind of actual effect, he needed to at least play the part.

He climbed up onto Cop, and very intentionally walked on her shoulder. With a sound like cracking glass, he noted the utter lack of any sound being made at all. The paradox of contradictions didn’t hiss, as True Mana and Law conflicted.

Soon, however, in light of his Victory, there was the briefest moment where Rhett’s will had surpassed Job’s.

His Chrome Apron began to clean her shoulder, and her eyes widened as the stamp faded away, and disappeared entirely under his feet.

“You’re hired,” he promised. “I need a new boss, so the position’s open,” he said, receiving a hug from the overwhelmed Orcess.

His teeth grit so hard at the sensation of rolling green hills that he felt his eyes boggling and bulging.

It was a perfectly normal reaction, of course, that did not mean anything at all.

He would insist that that was the case as long as it took for the blush to disappear from his face.

–

In the wooden prison, kept in the foundation of Splinters that held up Sunnymeat, Job sat, bitterly recounting his defeat.

He knew more about jobs than anyone. How could someone who didn’t even give a damn about maintaining his employment beat him?

Worse, his Perfectly Legal Actions up until now had been shattered in the process, the damned rat somehow having managed to perfectly maneuver him into Trespassing.

Already, he could feel his power slipping away, as his many, many jobs became notified of his incarceration, and began firing him.

It would take years to regain his lost polyworking energy, if he even managed that. His goal of becoming Mayor, destroyed.

All because of that filthy rat…

“Mahk my words, Rhett, youse ain’t gettin away wit dis,” he murmured, the slow drip of pig spit the only accompaniment to his defeat.