Chapter Text
“[S]ome men aren’t looking for anything logical, like money. They can’t be bought, bullied, reasoned, or negotiated with. Some men just want to watch the world burn.”
— Alfred Pennyworth
Usopp stared at the pot of daisies.
They hadn’t wilted. But they were missing something. He couldn’t quite put a finger on what exactly because while the flowers bloomed fine, the colors were muted; the limbs were not as strong as he’d like.
He trimmed around the stalks and watered the base.
“Usopp,” a stern voice said. “Toque.” His hat.
The teen rolled his eyes. “But it might rain again,” he tried. “My hair doesn’t do well in wet weather.”
He heard a chuckle. “That’s jokes–dus kno?” I’m well aware. I used to wear my hair like yours. That was what the boss meant.
Usopp took the tam off his head and stuck it in his pocket. “It’s off now,” he said. “Happy?”
“Thank you.”
Usopp continued to trim the flowers. Every once in a while he’d touch the orange headphones around his neck, but he wouldn’t put them on his head. He didn’t want to get scolded again. Especially when he liked to not be bothered when he was listening to his favorite music artists.
When he was done taking care of the daisies he put the pot near the window. Maybe he was doing the daisies a disservice given he wasn’t looking for any advice on how to take better care of them. But he was simply playing it by ear. He’d worked in this plant nursery for 5 and a half years, he knew a lot to have his go at taking care of some flowers. Speaking of which, he needed to examine and inspect the newly bloomed plants.
He walked out of the checkout area, into the greenhouse area. His boss nodded at him with a satisfied smile. Usopp looked away and rolled his eyes once he was out of his boss’ sight.
He finally put on his headphones, and gardening gloves, and picked up the plant sprayer.
Some time passed and he was looking for the misplaced weed killer when he heard a familiar voice. He paused the music.
No, it wasn’t the boss, even though he was talking too. It was a female voice.
It was, as expected, polite and jovial. But there was always a hint of confidence in there that he admired. You could never tell this person no unless you meant it.
Usopp smiled.
“How’s Nojiko?” The boss asked. “Did she go back home?”
“Yes,” the familiar voice replied in disappointment. “She’s studying for her GMAT. She also needed to take care of our uncle.”
“Ah,” the boss said sympathetically. “I know she’ll do well. Along with your uncle.”
“Thank you, Mr. Heracles.”
“You have a safe evening,” The boss, Heracles, replied. “Nami’n.”
Once he heard the door shut, Usopp walked into the check-out area. “Do you happen to know where the weed killer is?” He asked. “I didn’t see it out there.”
The older man nodded. “Yes,” he said. “It’s in the box in the storage room. Delivery man came earlier.”
Usopp nodded. “Thanks.” He turned around to walk in the direction of the storage room that was located in the very back, next to the restroom.
“Usopp,” Heracles said in a knowing tone. The boy stopped walking. “She asked how you were doing.”
“Really?” Usopp was trying for indifference. But sometimes he wasn’t good at fooling himself. “I’m gonna go and get the weed–“
“You still haven’t told me much of what happened. But they all still care about you. Your Eclipsian (European) friend’s dad, the restaurant owner, even asked about you when he came by a few weeks ago for some tomato seeds.”
Usopp shrugged. He’d been doing that a lot lately. Shrugging. “It doesn’t matter,” he murmured. “What’s done is done.” He could hear Heracles’ frown.
After a beat, Usopp walked away.
\\
“What the hell is going on, Usopp?!”
“Oi, what’s your problem? This isn’t like you.”
“Is it about the money? You don’t have to pay me back. Don’t beat yourself up.”
“If you’re having a shitty day, then just say so.”
“Usopp, a- are you feeling okay?”
//
Later at home.
“You know,” Heracles said. “You could be better.”
Usopp shrugged and took a sip of the water next to his plate of food. “I made it to the next level, that’s what I wanted.” He picked up his fork. “I’m done. I’m good.”
“But why stop there, Usoppun?” Heracles asked as he handed him a bowl of grapes. “You let those kids beat you. I’m not saying to stoop low. But you know what you’re best at.”
Usopp shrugged again. “It doesn’t matter,” he said. “I’m graduating in a little while anyway.”
“Conscription,” Heracles reminded. “Despite what you think. I know you’re not a coward.”
Usopp set his knife and fork down. Suddenly, the stewed potatoes didn’t taste good. He swallowed the rest of the food left in his mouth, it felt like clay going down his throat.
He sat back in the chair and rubbed both his temples. “Then what was that back then?” He asked before closing his eyes. “When you told me that stuff about fear. It was something like: ‘The right people will never shake?’”
“No,” Heracles said. “It’s, ‘The righteous will never be shaken.’”
That was as true as the sun up at midnight.
“Usoppun,” the older man said a little softer. “I’m not disappointed in you. If all, I admire the message. But you can’t keep doing that to yourself.”
Usopp’s hands tightened around the silverware he was holding. He could still feel the weight of the punch. He failed to move fast enough. Heracles had witnessed that firsthand. What did he mean by “what you’re best at?”.
Usopp opened his eyes and stood up. “May I be excused?”
Heracles nodded. “Don’t stay up too late, Usopp.”
“Yeah yeah yeah.”
｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆
Music played from the speakers.
It was turned down very low. The song playing was by a Frostlandian (North American) rap group, Luniz. Usopp wasn’t familiar with the artists’ names because it was a playlist he’d found online. It was different from the typical Marilandian music which only consisted of tropical beats and futuristic synthesizers.
“Bullseye!” Usopp whispered loudly as he hit the bullseye. “Yeah!”
He threw the next dart.
As expected, it landed on the center flawlessly.
He looked down at the four remaining darts lying in his hand. He could throw those easily.
He glanced at the clock on his computer.
It was maybe 10 minutes before midnight, and he didn’t have it in himself to go to sleep. With Heracles’ food for thought and a queasy stomach, he couldn’t close his eyes and let sleep overtake him. So, he’d got out of bed and started playing with darts. He only missed one shot but that was because he got distracted by a loud screech of tires heard near the townhome. Someone was doing donuts in the parking lot of an elementary school that was located across the street.
Very quickly and all at once he threw all remaining darts at the board. Bullseye.
“Hell, yeah,” he whispered. “I’m the fucking Sniper King.”
He then let out a dry snort and set the darts on the nearby desk. He glanced at the chemistry textbook next to his computer’s keyboard.
Oh, right.
He needed to study.
He begrudgingly grabbed the thick green textbook and opened it. Flipping through the pages he stopped at a part of the book that had nothing to do with the Nitrogen Cycle. “Fun chemistry projects for outside the classroom,” he muttered. “Hmm..let’s see.”
For the next hour or so Usopp found himself in the kitchen. Heracles’ bedroom was upstairs, so there was no need to worry about getting caught staying up. It’s not like the older man knew about a chemistry exam, and was a pretty heavy sleeper. He was nearing his 50s.
“So, I have potassium nitrate,” Usopp muttered. “But where can I get some damn black powder?” He scratched his forehead frustratedly. “Dammit.” It wasn’t like he collected rifles in his downtime.
His eyes roamed around the kitchen before landing on a sack of flour. “Hmm…” Usopp grabbed the sack and held it up. “This will do.” The textbook said so.
He took out a few plastic cups and set them on the dinner table. He grabbed a towel from the dryer and placed it underneath the cups. He put on a brand new pair of rubber gloves he found underneath the kitchen sink, and an old pair of Blu Blocker sunglasses Heracles’ had discarded (Usopp was going to use them for goggles). He acquired a kitchen knife, tape, and a bag of paper toy caps he’d bought a while back on a whim.
He then proceeded to measure out the powders and followed the remaining steps from the textbook.
“This should be about it,” he said after an hour had passed and a lot of progress was made. He stopped stirring the mixture. “Now I just need to transfer the casing.”
Pouring the mixture into the cardboard tube, he glanced at the clock. It was going on about 2.
No biggie. He still had a bit more time to work. He took out three more toilet rolls and cut them into quarters. The smaller the better.
Soon enough, the project was complete.
Usopp glanced at the clock once more, it clicking away. He saw that it was going on 4. He sighed in disappointment. “Dammit.” He could already hear a door open and shut. The sound coming from upstairs.
Very quickly he put the finished products from the project into a container and stuck it in the freezer behind Heracles’ favorite yogurt. Next, Usopp cleaned up the space. He swept the floor where the powder residue fell, and he used some water and soap to wipe away the remaining stains from the ingredients. He looked at the skillet he used. It was a cast-iron skillet.
He hid it in the pantry behind the old dog food.
“Up already?”
The 17-year-old nearly jumped out of his skin. “Ah!” He screeched. “You’re up earlier than usual too!”
Heracles, clad in a pair of black sweats and a black wife beater, gave him a look that said, “Don’t raise your voice at me. Lower it a couple notches.”
You scared me too.
Wordlessly, the 40-something-year-old man walked over to the fridge. He opened it and took out an egg carton. “Here,” he said to Usopp as he set them down on the kitchen table. “Boil 8 of these. And get the coffee started.”
Usopp nodded. “Yessir.”
Heracles smiled. “Good.”
After the man gave him a pat on the shoulder and went back upstairs for a shower, Usopp let out a big breath. He’d been holding it for a while. He then looked up at the clock and glared. “Stupid project,” he muttered. “It’s all your fault.” He didn’t know how he was going to get through the day without passing out, but he quite possibly had the endurance. It wasn’t like he had no experience in pulling all-nighters and staying up half past 7 am to watch his favorite season of the classic live-action Sniper King series (season 2 is always the best). Perhaps he decided to give the project a try because he needed it for a successful escape.
An escape from what?
From a figh–
“Good morning,” Usopp murmured to himself, as he quickly rubbed his eyes before picking up the large carton of eggs.
｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆
Den Den Nexus (@SharpshooterShadow): "Amidst daisy dilemmas and late-night chemistry projects, I navigate life's challenges with a head high. Boss, friends, and a touch of mystery – the greenhouse tales continue. #HeadHigh #GreenhouseChronicles 🌼🔬 "