The Janitor Who Was A Killer

The next day at school felt disappointingly… normal.

Vardan walked into class with his head low, as usual, waiting for the bullies to come circling like sharks. And they did.

"Hey, homework boy!" one sneered, slapping the back of his head. "You didn't forget our lunch, did you?"

"No…" Vardan mumbled, balancing their trays like a low-level waiter. As he walked through the cafeteria, he glanced toward the hallway, half-expecting to see police tape or security officers. Nothing.

Even stranger—there was Jenkins, the janitor, casually sweeping the floor like nothing had happened the night before. Vardan nearly tripped over his own feet.

Why wasn't Jenkins in jail? Why was nobody talking about the seven billion dollar bounty or the dead assassin?

---

Later that Evening

The school slowly emptied out. Vardan stayed behind, not because he had detention or extra homework, but because he had questions—big questions.

He found Jenkins in the hallway, mopping the floor with his usual tired expression.

"Uh… Jenkins?" Vardan approached cautiously.

Jenkins looked up. "Still here? Go home, kid. It's late."

Vardan swallowed his nerves. "Who are you… really?"

The janitor paused. His mop slowed. "Just a janitor."

"No, you're not," Vardan insisted. "What happened to that guy yesterday? Jack?"

Jenkins smirked but said nothing.

Jenkins leaned against his mop. "Let's just say he's… not coming back."

"Where did you put him?"

"Buried him somewhere." Jenkins gestured lazily toward the schoolyard. "Don't worry, kid. Nobody's finding him."

Vardan's mouth dropped. "You buried him at school?"

Jenkins shrugged. "Convenient spot. Less paperwork."

"And… the cameras? What about the security footage?"

"Deleted." Jenkins twirled the mop like a staff. "I'm thorough."

Vardan stared in disbelief. "So, that's it? No cops? No investigation?"

"I cleaned it up. Literally." Jenkins smiled.

Vardan shifted awkwardly. "Wait… that doesn't explain why someone put a bounty on you."

The janitor's eyes narrowed slightly. "I had a different job before this."

"What kind of job?"

Jenkins exhaled slowly and set the mop aside. "They used to call me James. Killer James."

Vardan's eyes widened. "Wait… Killer James? The Killer James? The guy who took out entire organizations and vanished? People said anyone who saw your face—"

"Didn't live long enough to tell anyone," Jenkins finished with a grin. "But hey, you're still here."

Vardan stepped back nervously. "That's not exactly comforting."

Jenkins chuckled. "Relax. I'm retired. Sweeping floors is easier on the knees."

"But why'd you save me yesterday?" Vardan asked.

Jenkins' expression softened. "I saw something in you. Reminded me of myself at your age—small, quiet, always running from trouble."

Vardan looked down at his shoes, feeling a strange mixture of pride and confusion.

Jenkins patted him on the shoulder. "You've got potential, kid. Don't waste it."

As the janitor turned to leave, Vardan blurted out, "Train me!"

Jenkins stopped mid-step. "What?"

"If you see potential… then train me," Vardan repeated, his fists clenched.

Jenkins glanced over his shoulder, raising an eyebrow. "You serious? I don't train kids to sweep faster, you know."

"I'm serious," Vardan said, his eyes burning with determination.

Jenkins squinted, scanning Vardan's face for any sign of doubt. After a long moment, he chuckled. "Alright, kid. If you want to learn, I'll teach you. But I hope you like mopping floors."

Vardan grinned. "I'll mop and fight."

"Good answer." Jenkins grinned back.

---

The Next Day

"Why am I holding this mop like a sword?" Vardan grunted, struggling to balance in the janitor's closet.

Jenkins smirked. "Because, kid, before you can wield a weapon, you gotta master the mop."

"…Is that a saying?"

"It is now."

From the shadows of the school, the legendary Killer James had begun training his first apprentice—whether the bullies were ready for it or not.