Brains unlocked the door of his lab at the Inter-University Research Institute and slid into the dark room.

He shuffled forward and dropped his keys and his bag onto the nearest workbench. He carried his shoulders high, almost at his ears, even when released from the physical weight of books and research papers.

Work used to be a joy, but lately... It hadn't been the same.

When he had first received this funded post, working with the brightest minds from all across the globe, on ways to make the world better, his every step had been marked with joy. Not long out of university, he was finally doing what he wanted.

But it had been marred by one particular blot of incompetence.

A man named Fischler.

Fischler had been a blight on everything since he arrived. Young, cocky, and so arrogant. It had taken all of Brains's carefully constructed manners not to tell the man to take a long walk off a short pier many weeks before.

His resilience had snapped, however. There was only so much that a man could take - that anyone could take. A few days earlier, Brains had finally done it. He'd lanced the festering boil by booting Fischler from his team.

Brains planted the flats of his hands on the cold top of the workbench and sighed. No-one had criticised him for it. Indeed, the other members of his team were overjoyed to be released from the gloom that descended over them every time Fischler started into one of his self-delusional rants.

Regardless, something still felt off. It wasn't guilt - far from it. It was more...a lack of the expected relief. A lingering sense that soon, Fischler would be back in his life. There was something about that sort of person, like when a damp stink gets stuck in your nostrils. You can't quite shake it, and there's a sense of inevitably that one day, it would be back.

Brains jumped as the door burst open. He closed his eyes and held in a growl as that very inevitably walked through the door.

"I need to talk to you, so-called Brains."

Fischler.

Brains's throat tightened, and he dug his fingernails into the tabletop.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, his every muscle tensing. "I t-told you, you're off this project. You have n-no business in my lab."

Fischler spread his hands wide and scowled beneath the unnecessary safety goggles he always wore - an attention-seeking measure, Brains suspected. Or a way to make him feel more important than he really was.

"Well, you've left me little choice," Fischler said, a sly grin on his face. "You won't answer my calls or my messages. So, it was this, or I plaster a message all over the bulletin boards for everyone to see."

Brains rolled his eyes and pushed himself upright. He balled his hands into fists.

"That's hardly the o-only way," he said. "You could have sent one of your lackeys, like you did before."

Waving off the suggestion as if it was filth, Fischler shook his head.

"You left me no choice," he said. "You made me do this. It's all on you."

Temper fraying, Brains snapped.

"What is it that you w-want?"

Fischler grinned his sly grin again and folded his arms.

"I want you to take my name off all the research done so far," he said. "You won't let me continue on your team, despite all the good work I've done. So you need to take everything I've done out and take my name off."

Unable to help himself, Brains chuckled - though the sound was tight.

"Gladly," he said. "I d-don't want to have my work sullied by your influence. A-and it's not like anything you've contributed will be m-missed."

A flash of hurt flickered across Fischler's face.

Brains felt no guilt.

"Now, g-get out of my lab, and out of my life," he said. "I t-told you I didn't want to have anything to do with you any longer. P-please don't attempt to contact me again."

Fischler brindled and plastered a cocky smile on his face. He raised one finger, as if declaring victory.

"Never worry about that," he said. "Let's just say, this severance is final!"

Brains's blood pumped through his temples as his anger exploded. The gall of this man!

"It w-was final when I removed you from my team!" he said. Hot waves of anger pulsed through the normally mild-mannered engineer. The sensation was strange, but almost...pleasant. He went with it, and his anger spilled out."You d-don't get to make that decision. It's t-typical of you, always making everything about yourself. Maybe for once, you could think d-differently and take some responsibility. Maybe for once, you c-could think of yourself as something other than a v-victim!"

Sweeping a hand to his chest, Fischler let his mouth gape.

"Me? A victim? It's not my fault. It's never my fault!"

Brains pushed his nails so far into his palms that it burned.

"And that is exactly the p-problem," he said, wrangling his tone to a forced calmness. "If you c-can't admit that sometimes you make mistakes, and sometimes you behave in ways you sh-shouldn't, no-one will ever work with you."

"But I do admit to mistakes!" Fischler said, wagging a finger. "That's where you're wrong. Not as smart as you say you are, eh? Didn't I admit to telling mistruths to the others about your work?"

Temper flaring again, Brains ground his teeth hard before he spoke.

"'Mistruths,'" Brains spat. "Lies, you mean. And you only admitted that because you kn-knew you'd been caught. There was no real contrition. You w-wanted me to tell you it was o-okay, and you wanted me to praise you for 'd-doing the right thing.' I c-can see right through you, Fischler. But I'd rather n-never have to cast my eyes on you again. You're not on my team, and you n-never will be. So go. Don't come near me again. I don't n-need your incompetence in my life."

Fischler went to speak, but Brains brought his hand up so fast the other man flinched, as if expecting a strike.

"Quiet!" Brains said, his palm raised in a definitive 'no.' The sickle-moon arcs from his palms stood out on his skin. "Don't say anything else. Just leave."

Taking a few stumbling steps backwards, Fischler shot a vicious glare.

"You mark my words, Brains," he said, hands groping behind him for the door. "One day, you're going to need me. One day, one of your experiments or designs is going to go wrong, and you'll need me."

Brains snorted, but Fischler was undeterred.

"Oh, you find that funny, do you?" He raised his finger in a wag again, while his other hand pushed the door. "One day, I'll have to save your rear, and we'll see who's laughing then."

Brains, calm descending as Fischler drew further away, folded his arms.

"Uh huh. And in the meantime, d-don't let the door hit you on the w-way out."

Fischler's eyes widened in defeated indignation, before he grunted and spun on his heel, disappearing from the room.

Brains slumped against the nearest counter and sighed, feeling the weight of Fischler's toxicity lift from his shoulders.

At last. The man was gone, excised like poison from a wound.

"Th-thank goodness," Brains said, his words breathy. "He's gone."

A tiny thought pricked at the back of his mind and interrupted his happiness.

That was the thing about people like Fischler. They were never really gone. They sizzled with long-burning indignation, always hanging onto the idea that they had been wronged. Fischler wouldn't forget, and he certainly wouldn't stay away. He'd always be there, lingering like that damp stink.

"But I'll only notice if I let him get to me," Brains said to the empty room. "It's up to m-me to forget about him, and not allow him into my thoughts. He can stew all he w-wants. But I don't have to let it bother me."

With both hands, Brains pushed himself from the worktop and straightened. He caught a glimpse of himself, a shadow in the glass. With pinprick purpose, he rolled his shoulders back, straightened his tie, and smiled. He was himself again. He was no longer tied to a weight that dragged him down.

That realisation brought a new sensation, something that tingled.

Brains felt good.

No. It was more than that.

For the first time in months, he felt...free.