Chuck, the guy in charge, was confined to the hospital for the next few weeks. Meanwhile, a replacement was coming from higher up the chain.

“You gotta watch out for those substitute managers,” Glass said as they walked to the general meeting where he’d be introduced. “They’re like substitute teachers, they have to be strict to gain everyone’s respect quickly. And they’re damn sneaky.”

Ninja, who knew that Glass had no experience with substitute managers, raised an eyebrow.

The meeting was held in the main conference room, which sported a spasmodically long table in the center. The new manager posed at the head of the table, nose up and hands on his hips. He was around thirty and wore a black velvet fedora and a blue silk scarf.

Glass’s eyes widened. Ooh, nice cheekbones.

Cheekbones?

Yes, cheekbones. Good cheekbones are God’s gift to womankind.

Ninja squinted at him, and reached out to feel his thoughts. The surface of his mind was smooth like new foil, but she couldn’t get any further than that.

I can’t see his thoughts, she told Glass.

Doesn’t mean he’s suspicious, Glass defended, No one that fine would need to be evil.

No one needs to be evil.

Au contraire. Ugly people. Case and point.

What?

Wait… Glass examined her logic for a minute, Actually, nevermind. We can be suspicious if you want. But it still makes me sad.

When everyone had gathered, he brushed some invisible lint off his sleeve.

“Hello, all,” he said, “I’m Mr. Ray. I’ll be overseeing you for a couple of weeks.”

The meeting continued for a little while, mostly composed of Mr. Ray’s narration of his meteoric rise in the bureau, along with some new policies. Strangely enough, these included rationing toilet paper.

“Anyone caught stealing toilet paper,” he said, “Will be prosecuted to the full extent of the law.”

Glass nodded. I told you. Just like a substitute teacher. He has to be firm.

But toilet paper?

Do you have any idea what the apocalypse is going to be like? Believe me, we’ll need toilet paper. It’s certain.

The meeting ended soon after. Mr. Ray dismissed everyone, but called the loud man to speak with him privately.

AlorFred sighed loudly. In some ways, he took after his old man. “Wow. Toilet paper? What a stickler.”

“AlorFred,” Glass said seriously, “I know you have a problem, but the substitute is right. There needs to be an intervention.”

“What? I don’t steal toilet paper!”

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

“Come on, now,” Ninja said, smirking. “The first step is admitting you need help.”

“But I don’t! What are you guys trying to do?”

Glass shook her head, tutting sadly. Ninja could sense the mirth just beneath her friend’s straight face.

“You know,” Glass said, “I think they have a rehab center in Rogston. I can drive you there. We don’t even have to get the loud man’s permission.”

“Wait— guys, really—”

Ninja was really smirking, now. She had to work on her poker face. “Really. We don’t even need your permission.”

“I— I, wait a minute—” He backed up as Ninja and Glass advanced, “NO!!!!” He turned and ran the other direction.

The two girls burst out laughing.

“What’s so funny?” the loud man asked, walking up to them.

“Nothing,” the agents said together.

He squinted at them. “I find that very suspicious.”

“Do you have anything else to tell us about the Shadow case?” Ninja asked. “You never got to finish your briefing.”

“Ah, yes, that. Actually, you’re off the case.”

Glass looked at him. With her serious face. Not her fake serious face. Her serious face. “What.”

“Mr. Ray’s taken you off the case. He’s got a couple older, more experienced agents working it out.”

Glass scowled. “Oh, yeah?”

He pulled back a little, brows furrowed. “Yes?” He coughed anxiously.

“What does he want us to do instead?” Ninja asked.

There was a tense silence. “Paperwork,” the loud man admitted, “You guys never do your paperwork.”

“That’s not true!” Ninja said, “I do do paperwork... Occasionally.”

Glass glanced around guiltily, as if looking for someone to pin the blame on.

The loud man sighed loudly. He was good at sighing. He counted it among his many talents. “Mr. Ray was very adamant that you need to get your paperwork done, and you’ve got quite the backlog.”

Glass huffed. I’m a vigilante. Vigilantes don’t do paperwork.

You were a vigilante. Now you do have paperwork.

Hmph. Pigs are crazy.

Come on, Glass. It’s time to be responsible.

Nooooooooooo!

“You’re ignoring me again,” the loud man said.

“We’ll go do our paperwork,” Ninja said. She grabbed Glass by the collar and dragged her to their cubicles.

“No...no…” Glass mumbled, “I’m going to die painfully…”

They passed AlorFred, who was quivering behind a pile of keyboard boxes in the workshop, going to their cubicles.

Ninja plopped down in her flimsy office chair. Their cubicles were right next to each other, and were largely grey.

These things always smell like despair, Glass thought.

I think that’s the particle board.

Same thing.

They rolled up their metaphorical sleeves, and got down to it.

The sun was breathing on the horizon when they stopped for the day.

Glass spun her chair in a circle, head lolling. “Finished.”

“Yeah, I’m at a stopping point too.”

“No, I mean I’m finished.”

Ninja held back a pang of jealousy and rubbed her forehead wearily. “I want Taco Time.”

“Yay!”