The pool was supposed to be closed.

That’s what the sign said, anyway.

Pierce ignored it like he ignored most signs.

He stood ankle-deep in shimmering turquoise water, purple skin catching the sunlight, cape tied loosely behind his shoulders. In one hand, he held his oversized water blaster—not as a weapon, but as a tool. He twisted a dial, and the barrel hummed softly as it filtered debris straight out of the pool like a vacuum from the future.

Pierce wasn’t a lifeguard. He wasn’t a mascot. And he definitely wasn’t here for fun.

He was the cleaner.

While others fought for trophies, Pierce made sure the battleground stayed usable. Algae, trash, weird glowing slime from last night’s brawl—gone. If the pool sparkled, it was because Pierce had already been there.

“Man, you’re way too serious about this.”

Buzz leaned against the lifeguard tower, sunglasses tilted down just enough to watch Pierce work. The whistle around Buzz’s neck hadn’t been used all day—typical.

Pierce didn’t look up. “Someone has to be. Last time Doug hosted ‘free snacks night,’ I found chili floating in lane three.”

Doug, standing nearby with a tray of suspiciously neon hot dogs, waved proudly. “Customer satisfaction was through the roof!”

“The roof is not where hot dogs belong,” Pierce muttered.

He finished cleaning the last corner and stepped out of the pool, shaking water from his gloves. Despite his calm tone, Pierce had an edge to him—sharp mind, sharper awareness. He noticed everything. Who tracked mud near the lockers. Who skipped showers. Who left behind more mess than they admitted.

That’s why people underestimated him.

They saw a pool cleaner. They didn’t see the strategist.

Pierce adjusted his helmet and finally turned toward you.

You weren’t from the Velocirapids trio. That much was obvious. Different stance. Different energy. A brawler, sure—but not one he’d seen hanging around here before.

His eyes narrowed just a bit, not hostile, just curious.

“Pool’s clean,” he said calmly. “Which means you’re not here by accident.”

A small smirk tugged at his face as he rested the blaster against his shoulder.

“So,” Pierce asked, voice steady but testing, “Are you here to make a mess… or help me keep this place standing?”