Earth-247

Jack of All Trades

"Next!"

The scents of rectangular pizza, grease-logged tater tots, overcooked broccoli, and the same "fresh" fruit that had been there a week ago assaulted his overcompensating sense of smell as he shuffled down the lunch line.

"Next!"

It always seemed strange to Scott that they had a cafeteria worker stationed at the end of the lunch lines. It's not like the kids had to pay for the food. He'd asked about it once and been told that the worker was documenting what each child was eating. It wasn't a satisfactory answer, but his requests for clarification were deflected. Scott's best guess was that it was required by law, an attempt by the government to pretend to have a vested interest in the wellbeing of its unparented children.

"Next! Oh, it's you," she said, noticing Scott. "Hold on." She took Scott's tray from him and left her post, walking behind the buffet and gathering food. It was even quieter underneath the ambient drone of children in a cafeteria, but Scott could hear her mumbling to herself, making sure he didn't get a burnt piece of pizza or moldy piece of fruit.

"There you go," she offered flatly, returning the tray.

"Thank you," Scott replied as he balanced the tray on one hand and regripped his cane with the other. Not that Scott could see, but the lunch lady allowed herself a small smile before once again barking, "Next!"

Scott navigated the familiar path to his favorite spot in the cafeteria: a table in the far corner opposite the hallway that fed into the room. Scott was sure the other kids thought he was a loner who had no friends (as he'd heard as much in whispers to themselves), but it was really because the acoustics resonated in such a way that whatever the guards at the cafeteria entrance were saying echoed into Scott's ears as if the guards were standing right next to him.

He bit off one corner of his pizza and waited to catch anything noteworthy. Several minutes passed in radio silence. Scott sighed. There's gonna come a time, he assured himself. I don't know when, and I don't know how I'll know, but I'll know, and it'll be make-or-break time.

Another couple minutes passed before Scott heard a voice next to him.

"Boss wants a squad to go investigate a case downtown."

One of the cafeteria guards pressed the button on his walkie-talkie and responded, "What squad? We're short-staffed as it is."

A pause. "Send the rear door guards. Boss says this one has him intrigued. Just don't let any kids outside until the squad gets back."

"Fine," the cafeteria guard responded. "Green Team, you hear that?"

"Copy that," came a different, disembodied voice. "I'm assuming Boss has coordinates for us?"

"You should have them any minute," the original, disembodied voice confirmed. "Over and out."

"Over and out."

"Over and out."

Guess the time is now, Scott resolved. He stood up, left his tray and food behind, and navigated to the other end of the cafeteria. Once he was at the doors, he asked the guards, "Can I go to the restroom?"

The guards made hesitant noises that indicated to Scott they were looking at each other for answers.

"Er... Normally, yes, but there are extenuating circumstances right now. We can't let you go," one of them finally replied.

"Oh, okay," Scott accepted, unperturbed. He took a spot on the wall next to the guard that spoke and waited. Trying to pace it out nonchalantly, he started a routine of fidgets indicative of desperation to use the restroom, incorporating more and more every so often. Soon, Scott almost had himself convinced that he was going to have an accident.