ORIGINS, Lorenz

“I haven’t seen anything this small since that guy went streaking at homecoming.” As soon as she said it, twenty one year old Laura Lorenz wished she hadn’t. Her humor simply blurted out at times where it always seemed to backfire, and a laboratory filled with microscopes full of students studying diseases wasn’t the place to joke around. 

“I know, right?!” replied her annoying classmate, Juicy Waters. 

“Juice,” said Lorenz patiently, “that saying makes no sense. You’re telling me you know, but then asking me if you’re right.” 

Juicy shook her head and said, “geez Lorenz, you don’t have to be a grammar Nazi. I was just agreeing that he had a small dick, that’s all. Why are you being such a jerk?!” 

Her whole life, all Laura Lorenz wanted to to do was be liked and fit in.  She worked hard, got good grades, but she always felt like she didn’t belong to normal society.  She couldn’t put her finger on it, she just knew something was off.  Lorenz didn’t laugh at most people’s jokes, but dark humor made her laugh to tears.  Most people were scared of blood but it didn’t bother her in the slightest.  Even in college, her favorite class was pathogenic microbiology.  It fascinated her that the biggest, strongest men could be killed by a virus or bacteria that was too small to see.

Lorenz shook her head, closed her eyes and tried to shake off the decades of insecurity.  Regardless of the fact that Juicy was the true definition of a dumb bitch and that she ALWAYS took everything personally, Lorenz still didn’t want to make her feel bad. “I’m sorry Juice, I was just commenting on the impressively small size of this bacteria cell, that’s all. This semester has been hell and even though we have twelve weeks left, I’m over it.”  Half truthfully, half trying to fit in, she said, “I’m getting fucked up tonight, that’s all.” 

Juicy audibly disapproved, as if she were some perfect person of high morals, then went back to finishing her own test. Lorenz put her eye back to her microscope and muttered to herself, “When this semester is over, I hope I never see that stupid snatch again.” 

Hours later, Lorenz sat incognito in a dark corner of the Salty Leprechaun Irish pub. She sighed deeply and lifted a tasty pint of suds to her lips as the saloon juke box played Smooth Criminal. Little did she know, that song was foreshadowing the start to an odd night. As she people watched, her most loathsome professor walked into the saloon, Doctor Phil. “FUCKY!” she gasped to herself. Unlike the television personality with the same name, Dr. Phil was rail thin with long, curly salt and pepper nappy hair that was pulled back into a pony tail. His thick glasses made his eyes look double their size. He never smiled, he was a dick to his students, and he had a superiority complex about him that Lorenz found repulsive. 

She recoiled back into the shadows as to not be seen and pulled out her cell phone, then hit “record” on her video app. Dr. Phil walked up to some seedy looking biker thugs who were at the opposite end of the saloon and talked to them like they were his old friends. “I knew this fucking prick was no god damned good,” she thought. 

“You’ve been hit by… you’ve been struck by… a smooth criminal!” sang Michael Jackson on the juke box. Mike’s words matched the moment.

It turned out that Dr. Phil was pretty shitty at being clandestine. He tried to be secretive as he handed the bikers a small, brown envelope, but Lorenz saw the whole thing go down. Most people would become uncomfortable at this sight, but Lorenz perked up like someone had just flipped an “on” switch inside of her brain. “Ah, Dr. Phil, it looks like your tenure is under review, asshole,” she muttered to herself. 

He was distraught as he exited the bar. Lorenz followed him. He walked briskly back to the university, constantly looking around as if he were afraid of being followed. Although Lorenz had never tried to secretly follow anyone, it was like an unknown instinct kicked in as she tailed him. The jerk professor angrily walked into the microbiology building and bolted up some stairs. A minute or two later, Lorenz could hear his irate, agitated voice outside of the closed door of his office. 

“I gave them the package, and they said they’d pay me later if it works! That was not our deal!” 

“Phil, sweetie, this will work out, trust me!” said a female voice. Lorenz’s eyes got huge as she realized it was none other than Juicy Waters. She was calling him sweetie? Holy shit, was Juicy banging the teacher? No wonder she was getting an A in his class, even though she was a dumb bitch! Lorenz recoiled at the thought of banging the rail thin old fucker, but choked her vomit back down and pulled herself together. 

She clicked a few things on her smart phone, then slipped it in the chest pocket of her jacket. She opened the door to the office and confronted the two of them. “Well, well, well,” said Lorenz, “I wonder what the dean of the school would think if he knew what you two were up to right now.” Lorenz walked with purpose towards Juicy and said, “and for fucks sake, Juice, there’s a ton of hot professors you could fuck on this campus. Why this greasy bean pole?” 

Lorenz was only a few feet away from her, then stopped and put her hands on her hips. Juicy Waters got a nasty look on her face as she pulled out a small hand gun and pointed it at Lorenz. Lorenz had never had a gun pointed at her before. For whatever reason, she felt zero fear. In fact, she smiled as she realized that she was alive and loving the action. “You’ve always been a bitch to me, Laura!” yelled Juicy in actual bitch fashion.

Dr. Phil tried to say something, but Lorenz reacted so quickly that it was over before it started. It was like a ninja momentarily took over her brain and she had no control of her actions.  She’d disarmed Juicy in the blink of an eye and knocked her the fuck out with the butt of the firearm. Without thought, she pointed the gun at Phil. “Hey there, Philipe,” said Lorenz all cool and casual, “you’d better hope to hell that you didn’t give anything illegal to those bikers back there.” 

Phil’s eyes got super huge behind his thick glasses as he said, “you’ve got nothing, Lorenz! Even if you did see me with the Demons Of The Highway Biker Gang, you’ve got nothing! And you’re definitely flunking my class this semester!” 

Lorenz smiled as she pulled out her smart phone. “Would you like to say that again?” She waited a few seconds for the sentiment to sink in for the doc, then said, “the cops are on the other end of this phone call and they’re recording everything you’re saying. Oh, just so you know, they’re also raiding the Salty Leprechaun with a search warrant from the judge that they got after I shared a video of you giving those bikers a thick brown envelope. So go ahead, tell me again about how I’ve got nothing and how I’m flunking your class,” she paused and sarcastically put a kind, patient look on her face, “at your convenience, of course.” 

Twenty minutes later, Juicy and Phil were being cuffed and stuffed in a cop car. As the police pulled away a man walked out of the shadows in a long, black leather trench coat. Lorenz should’ve been creeped out, but her instincts told her that this fella was a good guy. 

“Nice work tonight,” he said. “You tailed a guy perfectly, and you didn’t flinch when a gun got pulled on you. You’re made of the stuff that most folks aren’t.” 

Lorenz smiled and asked, “so what am I made of, exactly?” 

“Balls, sweetheart. You’re made of balls. You’ve got the stones to be a mover and shaker. If you’d like employment with a secret agency that takes down bad guys all over the world, you’re hired.” 

Lorenz crinkled her brow and said with sarcasm, “Thanks for letting me know I’m made of testicles, which honestly, is a new discovery for me. But seriously, who in the fuck are you?” 

The man stepped into the beam of a street light and said, “Speck Arnold. Speck is short for Spectacular, and trust me, my organization pays well.” He pulled a business card out of his jacket, handed it to her, then retreated into the darkness as he said, “get back to me anytime. This is an open invite.”  With that, he dematerialized into thin air as he walked away. 

“Hmmm,” Lorenz said as she checked out the business card, “tonight’s been fucked up enough. I need another beer.” In the distance, a nasty college girl and asshole professor got processed into separate holding cells where bikers roughed up the asshole professor and women of the night harassed the dumb snatch.