Jerald was working on a loose gear when the man of the hour walked in. There was Carl, standing there in his skinny, prematurely-balding glory.
"There you are. Took you so long?"
"Well, sor-ry, I just happen to take time getting places," he said. "I didn't even have time to punch in. Anyway, you must be the one in trouble if you can't get a freakin' handle on a valve."
"Just help me." Carl pushed Jerald aside and looked at the valve. "I think the grooves are worn off."
Carl took a closer look at the nozzle meant to hold the valve. "Nuh-uh, man, must be human erro-" He was cut off as Jerald slammed his head into the iron boiler, stunning him. He whipped his fiberwire out of his pocket and grabbed both handles, separating them and extending the gleaming wire. He wrapped it around the man's neck and pulled it tight, yanking him out of view from the hallway. Carl struggled for about thirty seconds, pulling at his neck as his face turned blue. Finally, he went limp. Jerald unwrapped the wire and felt for a pulse just underneath the deep welt left by his wire. No pulse.
He wondered for a moment if the man had friends. A family. Someone who'd realize he was gone and call the security.
Probably not, he thought as he closed the door and dragged the body into the hazardous waste container. The man's legs didn't seem to want to bend the right way to fit. Grunting, he slammed his elbow onto the body's knees, breaking them. He folded them under the body and slid it the rest of the way in, then jammed the top shut with a click. Jerald checked his watch. He had plenty of time until shift change. He dragged the container into the waste drop-off and loaded it onto a pallet with a few other piles of trash.
Jerald staggered into the bathroom and vomited, missing the trash can completely and giving himself more work to do. God, he hated this job.