Wild Fire’s Garage and Auto Parts was unusually quiet at this time of the day. Normally filled with the sounds of various tools and cursing of the employees, the garage was now bathing in eerie silence. The only sounds were the ringing of the chain of an engine crane; a large V8 engine was hanging from it, its mere existence giving every ecologist a heart attack. Flies were buzzing, flying around a poster with a moderately-dressed girl hanging from the wall – the workers were sure that this one spawned in the room automatically after enough cars had been repaired in it, although when several female workers protested, it was joined by the calendar issued by The Society of Gay Muscular Firemen, all in the name of equality.
The fact that the garage was silent didn’t mean that it was completely devoid of life. Two mechanics were standing in front of the large pile of car tires scattered on the floor. One of them, a tall woman with impressive biceps covered in tattoos scratched her head, and looked at an equally muscular man standing next to her.
“Gilda?” the man asked. “Should we call an ambulance?”
“Probably,” Gilda replied. “Or a coroner. Those tires must weigh at least a ton. Not to mention the rack they were on. Bulk, can you lift this so we can see how’s the boss?”
“I’d rather not,” Bulk replied. “What if she has a broken spine? We may damage it further if we move something.”
“Well, now she’s under a ton of car tires, so I guess we can’t hurt her much more.” Gilda shrugged. “Though if she ends up in a wheelchair, she’ll truly become a supervillain.”
The door of the garage opened. Bulk and Gilda froze; the last thing they needed was some customer who’d find them staring at a pile of car tires that somehow became Wild Fire’s grave.
They turned back and sighed with relief. The newcomer happened to be one of their coworkers, a thin girl called Lightning Dust.
“Sup, morons?” she asked. “Why are you staring at this pile of tires? Someone’s gotta put it back together, right?”
“Wild Fire is somewhere under them,” Bulk replied.
Lightning Dust’s eyes widened. “How did it happen?”
“Well, you know that dog that keeps coming here?” Gilda looked around, but said dog wasn’t in sight. Mainly because it knew better than to stay around Gilda and her intense need to kick the sources of her frustrations.
“I hate that fleabag,” Lightning Dust said. “He stinks, steals shoes, tries to shag my leg, and shits everywhere.”
“Yeah, about that…” Bulk smiled sheepishly.
“Wild Fire kinda slipped.” Gilda shrugged. “She knocked the toolbox with her leg and it hit the tire rack. She fell on the floor and you can guess the rest.” She pointed at the pile of tires in front of them.
“Okay, so the boss might be dead.” Lightning nodded. “Did you call the police?”
“Not yet,” Gilda replied, eyeing her coworker. “Why are you asking?”
“Because then I’ll have to park the Cadillac somewhere far away from the garage,” Lightning Dust said. “The guy who gave it to me said that it’s fine, but you never know.”
Gilda furrowed her eyebrows. “You stole this Cadillac, didn’t you?”
“Of course not.” Lightning Dust looked around, backpedalling. “I’m pretty sure I can tell my friend borrowed it from, uhh…”
“Does the car owner know that he borrowed it?” Bulk asked.
“Perhaps,” Lightning Dust replied. “Can we not talk about the Cadillac when the boss is there? Speaking of, where’s the Cadillac? I really need to move it.”
“We removed the wheels,” Bulk said.
“Where are the wheels, then?”
Bulk just pointed at the pile of tires.
“Ah, so I just need to find the right ones and hope there’s no blood on them.” Lightning Dust rolled her eyes. “And I guess you didn’t mark which one is front left, rear right, and so on? Thanks for making my job easier.”
“It’d be easier if you didn’t bring any shady cars here,” Gilda said. “One day, the boss will find out and–” She paused, staring at the pile of tires which currently reached the status of an elephant in the room
“Yeah, well…” Lightning Dust shrugged. “Maybe we should really get her out? She can’t lie there forever or the whole place will stink. And it’s hard to get the smell out of the trunk of the car…”
“How do you know?” Bulk asked.
Lightning Dust smiled sheepishly, but the smile quickly turned into her usual half-smirk. “From Discovery Channel, obviously,” she replied. “Anyway, we should check the body. I know a guy–”
“No, we’re not selling our boss’ body to some deviant,” Gilda said.
“Hey, he’s a legit doctor.” Lightning Dust shook her head. “If the organs aren’t damaged, we can make some good money out of it.”
Gilda rolled her eyes. “My point still stands.”
Bulk was about to grab one of the tires, when the pile moved. Gilda and Lightning Dust backpedalled. Lightning Dust grabbed a monkey wrench and raised it, as if ready to hit someone.
“What the hell are you doing?” Gilda asked.
“I just watched Alien yesterday.”
Bulk raised his eyebrows. “Which Alien?”
“The first one, of course,” Lightning Dust replied, swinging the monkey wrench. “You know, that part where that little xenomorph jumps out of–”
The tires moved and, instead of a xenomorph, a very much alive Wild Fire emerged from them. Her face was dirty and she had a black eye. She stood up, revealing torn and dirty clothes.
“Hi boss.” Lightning Dust grinned sheepishly. “What’s up?”
“I’ve heard that part when you decided to sell my organs,” Wild Fire replied. “And we’ll talk about the Cadillac later.”
Bulk looked at the pile of tires and at Wild Fire. “Are you sure you’re okay, boss? Those look pretty heavy.”
Wild Fire rolled her eyes. “Well, of course I’m okay.” She kicked the nearest tire, revealing that it was covered in dog’s faeces. The long trail on the floor under it showed the place where she had slipped. "I’m just dead tired of this shit!”
