Chapter Text
Branzy glanced over his newest applicant's resume. He had a decent amount of experience: 7 full years as a body guard, even longer as an assassin. No experience of working in a lab, unfortunately, but that was hardly a problem. Assistant skills could be taught in days—a good fighter took a lot longer to train.
A cursory glance told Branzy that this newest candidate was way overqualified. Not that he would complain because, as much as he loved them, his robot chickens could only do so much, and the list of people who wanted him dead was steadily growing.
"He must be desperate if he's applying here," Branzy snorted, throwing the paperwork to the side. It didn't matter if he looked over it; his job was to just interview, accept, and try his best to keep this one longer than a month. "Really desperate."
In his eleven years of labwork, Branzy had managed to scare off forty-seven different bodyguards. It wasn't purposeful on his part, his erratic behavior and unpredictable nature usually tended to agitate even the most laid-back new hires.
He glanced towards the clock, tapping his fingers across the table in front of him. Twenty minutes to the interview, fifteen before Branzy has to actually do anything, and an hour before he gets to go back to his lab; providing that the guy even shows up.
It wouldn't be the first time that someone bails on him before they even make it to introductions, and it certainly wouldn't be the last. Chances were that he'd be in this same room, at this same time, going through the same process, sometime in the next 3 months. Maybe again by tomorrow if he gets super unlucky.
Branzy leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms above his head in an attempt to relieve his muscles of the strain they had been under. He had spent the last few days hunched over his desk, muttering to himself in the dark. His last assistant had quit, not even three days before they found him a replacement, stating that his lab had a, quote, "suffocating atmosphere." Whatever that meant.
Branzy knew from the beginning that they wouldn't last, they were far too eager. He didn't need drive, he needed obedience. Someone who would stand by and wait for his orders. They broke a machine on their first day whilst trying to tidy up—Branzy sent them home for the week.
Lost in his thoughts, Branzy didn't notice the time passing, nor did he notice the knock on the office door, but he was snapped out of his thoughts at the sound of someone clearing their throat.
Branzy glanced up, just enough to see a pair of legs standing in the doorway. He sat straighter in his chair, pulling the paperwork to be in front of him once again. He had lost his 5 minute prep time, which sucked, but ultimately was nothing to be too bothered over. He gestured for the newest person in the room to sit down, not bothering to look up from the papers he was flipping through for the second time now.
He heard the sound of a chair pulling out and the other man settling in, felt expectant eyes trained on him.
Branzy finally permitted himself to look up, nearly moving back at the sight of the other man. He was tall, much taller than Branzy himself, and clearly well-built. If Branzy thought that he had good muscles from lifting his machines, than this man was nearly double that. He took a second to take it in, dragging his eyes over the man's physique. He didn't bother to hide it, but it didn't seem to upset the man. In fact, he almost seemed to make himself look bigger when Branzy's eyes landed on him for the first time.
"I'm assuming you're Clown?" He analyzed the man in front of him. "That's a fun name."
"It's meant to make me less frightening." The man—Clown—pushed his mask closer to his face.
"Less frightening?" Branzy laughed, leaning forward with a grin, delight flashing in his eyes. "Aren't most people afraid of clowns?"
"Are you?" Clown questioned, tilting his head.
"Am I what?"
"Afraid of clowns, Dr. Craft?" All at once, the man's figure seemed to see infinitely more intimidating. Branzy chuckled nervously, suddenly leaning back.
"Of course not."
"Hm." Clown's posture went back to normal, his hands folded in front of him and that mask of his burning an unsettlingly wide smile into Branzy's vision.
Branzy took a moment to flip through Clown's cover letter, suddenly finding the new candidate more intriguing.
While Branzy's eyes were focused on the piece of paper before him, Clown took a moment to scan the room. It was mostly empty, clearly not a room that anyone spent much time in. There was only a desk, two chairs, a rug, and a clock on the wall. There were no windows, meaning that there was only one exit, which sat directly behind him and to his left. It wouldn't be hard to escape if something were to go awry, but they'd know it was him and, anyways, that wasn't what he was hired for.
Branzy looked up suddenly, tapping on the desk. "Any prior lab knowledge?"
"No," Clown answered, knowing that it was very well stated on his resume that he had never had experience in any scientific field—unless murder counted. "I'm sure I can learn."
Branzy nodded and moved on, already knowing that. "You've been working a while, is there any employer in particular who would catch my attention?"
Clown had to stifle a surprised laugh at that.
"Already trying to get information out of me?"
"Maybe," Branzy flipped to his resume. "You've signed a lot of privacy agreements."
"I have," Clown's eyes seemed to bore into him; Branzy chose to ignore it. "Comes with the job."
"Right," Branzy chuckled nervously, gliding his thumb over where a picture was meant to be attached. "Do you ever take off the mask?"
"No." The response was quick, cold, and uncaring. Branzy was unbothered by the sudden professionalism.
He took a moment to gather his thoughts, tilting his head back and forth before he nodded.
"Could you do one thing for me?" Branzy looked back up at the other man, closing the folder that held his information. He jutted his chin towards the empty chair that sat opposite to Clown. "Put that chair under the clock."
Clown stood up, not taking a moment to hesitate, and easily maneuvered the chair to press its back under the wall-mounted clock. Branzy took a second to observe before shaking his head and gesturing his hand towards the chair.
"Flip it around."
Again, Clown did not hesitate, didn't ask a single question, just acted.
Satisfied, Branzy opened a drawer in the desk, waving Clown over. From inside the drawer, he pulled out a yellow manila envelope, sliding it across the desk.
"When can you start?" He grinned up at the imposing figure opposite of him.
"Whenever you need me to." Clown responded, tilting his head down enough to see the label on the folder.
In another lab, in another city, Xisuma laughed.