My God Is a Clumsy Disaster

Chapter 4: Soldiering On

 The lead scavenger’s boots clicked against the linoleum with the rhythmic, terrifying precision of a metronome. Each step was a death sentence waiting to be signed. Kenji pressed his spine so hard against the drywall he felt like he was trying to phase through it. Beside him, Ares-Minus was doing something profoundly stupid with his hands, his fingers twitching as if he were trying to knit air.

"What are you doing?" Kenji hissed, his voice barely a tremor in the stale, recycled mall air. "Stop moving! They'll hear your toga rustling!"

Ares-Minus didn't look at him, his face set in a mask of intense, sweaty concentration. "I’m improvising, man! I’m trying to pull a layer of invisibility, or at least a 'please ignore me' field. It’s hard to manifest when I’m this hungry, okay?"

"You're not invisible, you're vibrating!" Kenji whispered, watching as a shimmering, translucent yellow rectangle began to materialize in the air above them. It was about the size of a door and hummed with a soft, neon-mustard light. Written across it in glowing, impossible-to-miss script were the words: DO NOT DISTURB - JANITORIAL DUTIES IN PROGRESS.

Kenji stared at the sign, then at the god. "Are you out of your mind? That’s not a stealth field! That’s a glowing neon invitation to come over here and murder us!"

"It’s a psychological construct!" Ares-Minus defended, his voice rising in panic. "It’s supposed to make them feel guilty about interrupting someone who’s working! It’s a classic inconvenience tactic! Nobody likes to bother someone doing their job!"

"We aren't janitors! We’re targets!" Kenji grabbed the god’s arm, but it was too late. The glowing sign hung in the air, bobbing gently like a buoy in a storm.

The lead scavenger stopped dead. He turned his head slowly, his tactical visor catching the light of the bizarre sign. He stared at the glowing yellow text for a long, agonizing second. Then, he raised a hand, signaling his team.

"Contact," the scavenger said, his voice cold and flat. "We’ve got a manifestation in the atrium. Someone’s playing games."

"Run?" Ares-Minus offered, his face turning the color of curdled milk.

"You idiot," Kenji groaned, snatching the flashlight from his belt. "They saw us! Just—stay behind me!"

The scavenger team didn't hesitate. They moved with military efficiency, weapons raised. Kenji didn't have a plan, but he had a piece of glowing, neon-yellow nonsense that was about to give them away. As the lead soldier rounded the corner, the sign drifted downward, its glow threatening to spotlight their exact position.

Without thinking, Kenji lunged. He jumped up and swatted at the sign, desperate to pull it down or hide it. His hand connected with the spectral energy, but instead of vanishing, the sign became solid and heavy. It slammed into his chest, the weight of a giant piece of painted plywood pressing into him.

"Oh, for the love of—" Kenji stumbled, the sign acting like a sail, catching the air and slamming him directly into the path of the approaching soldiers.

He slid out from behind the clothing rack, the sign held aloft like a ridiculous, glowing shield. The soldiers froze, their weapons trained squarely on his chest. For a moment, the entire mall seemed to hold its breath.

"Janitorial duties?" the lead soldier asked, his tone dripping with lethal sarcasm. He leveled his pulse-rifle at Kenji’s head. "You’ve got to be kidding me."

Kenji looked at the sign, then at the soldiers, his heart hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird. He had two seconds before they turned him into paste. He channeled every ounce of his fear into his voice, trying to channel the sheer audacity of someone who had survived this long on pure, unadulterated nonsense.

"Look, buddy," Kenji barked, slapping the glowing sign with his free hand. "Do you have any idea how much wax is on these floors? I’m trying to seal the grout! If you walk through here, you’re going to track mud across the entire food court, and I’m the one who has to mop it up tomorrow! Do you want to do the overtime? Because I’m already on my third coffee!"

The soldiers exchanged confused glances. The lead scavenger lowered his rifle a fraction, his brow furrowing beneath his visor. "What?"

"The shift!" Kenji shouted, getting louder, pushing the sign forward until it was inches from the soldier’s chest. "I’m the night crew! Are you the night crew? No? Then move your boots, you’re in an active maintenance zone! I’ve got a bucket of industrial stripper two feet away, and if you slip, it’s not my fault!"

"He’s… he’s a janitor?" one of the other soldiers asked, his voice wavering.

"He’s not a janitor, you morons!" the leader barked, but he looked back at the sign. The glowing letters seemed to pulse with an authority that defied logic. DO NOT DISTURB.

"Look at the sign!" Ares-Minus yelled from behind Kenji, popping his head up. "It clearly states—"

"Shut it!" Kenji snapped, then turned back to the leader, putting on his best 'overworked employee' face. "If you want to clear the area, fine! Go! But I’m not getting written up because you guys decided to have a shootout in a freshly waxed zone! Walk around through the department store entrance and leave me to my bucket!"

The leader looked at the sign, then at the mess of peaches and broken glass further down the hall where they’d left the previous rival. The logic of a divine-induced inconvenience began to warp their reality. They didn't want to deal with the hassle. They didn't want the paperwork.

"Fine," the lead scavenger spat, signaling his team to back off. "We’ll go around. But if you’re still here in five minutes, I’m putting a round in your head."

"Yeah, yeah, tell it to the manager," Kenji muttered, holding the sign firm until they rounded the corner.

As soon as they were out of sight, the sign dissolved into yellow sparkles and vanished. Kenji slumped against a mannequin, his legs turning to jelly.

"That," Ares-Minus breathed, looking at him with wide, impressed eyes, "was the most beautiful, inconvenient lie I have ever heard."

"Shut up," Kenji gasped, his chest heaving. "We need to go. Right now. Through the fire exit."

They bolted, diving through the heavy double doors at the back of the store. They hit the cold, damp air of the alleyway behind the mall. Kenji didn't stop running until they reached the main street. He looked up, expecting the gray clouds and the silence he’d become accustomed to.

But the silence was gone.

The street was a nightmare of shifting, pulsating shadows. Farther down the block, the buildings were crawling—literally. Tendrils of obsidian-black energy were dragging cars into the pavement, and the sound of a thousand clicking joints echoed from every dark doorway. The monsters weren't just in the subway anymore; they were everywhere.

"Oh," Ares-Minus whispered, his hand trembling as he pointed to the sky.

Kenji looked up. The clouds had parted, revealing a sky not of blue, but of shimmering, fractured glass. Through the cracks, massive, glowing eyes—the size of city blocks—watched the world below with a cold, uncaring hunger.

"So," Kenji said, his voice dead. "Are we, uh, still doing the snack thing?"

"I think," the

god replied, his face pale, "we’re going to need a much bigger towel."