The next morning, you and Steven arrived at FunLand Arcade with coffees in your hands, and smiles on your faces. Not long after, Harold Smiley locked the two of you in the sketchy back room, filled with dusty inventory and stacks of VHS tapes- along with a small TV to play them.

"Your first shift starts now," Harold said after two hours of cheesy video had been played. "This is the uniform," he gestured to himself, and the patterned button-up he was wearing. It looked like the carpet you would find at an old bowling alley that had never had a good cleaning.

"I put your shirts and name tags in your locker, which is also where you'll keep your phone," Mr. Smiley said sternly. "No screenagers on my watch."

"Yes sir," Steven replied seriously, earning a world-ending glare from Harold.

"Get to work," he grumbled, "I'm going to bed."

You checked your phone. It was only 8AM.

"Goodnight, Mr. Smiley," Steven waved as he walked off, presumably to his bed. You found your locker with your (misspelled) name on it and buttoned up your new uniform over the shirt you were wearing.

"Well, I was right!" Steven closed his locker and turned to face you, his shirt partially unbuttoned at the top.

You closed your locker with a click; "About?"

"You look good in 80's print," Steven smiled, flaunting his matching shirt.

"I so don't," you rolled your eyes and buttoned the rest of Steven's shirt with care, his half-lidded eyes glued to you all the while. His jaw relaxed so that his mouth fell slightly open. When your fingers brushed skin, his breath hitched. "Suits you, though," you said once you were finished.

"What?" Steven shook his head.

"The shirt?" You raised an eyebrow.

"Oh, yeah... haha... right," he coughed.

You were confused, but before you could say anything, the awkward moment was interrupted by the service bell ringing from the front desk.

"Onion!" Steven grinned and leaned over the desk, towering over poor, poor, Onion.

But he still held the power. Even with the lower ground, Onion held flame behind his eyes. Onion was king, and he knew it. He looked up at Steven with only one thought, circulating in his Onion head; The world would bow to him one day.

Onion smiled excitedly and waved.

"What's up?" Steven propped his upper body up by his elbows on the counter so that he could see Onion- standing at maybe three feet.

In response, Onion pointed slowly to Teens Of Rage 2... which was engulfed in flames.

"ONION!" Steven jumped so high it looked like he was floating in mid-air. "Mr. Smiley's gonna kill me," he whined as he ran to the fire extinguisher. Of course, being Steven Universe and all, it didn't take long.

When he came running back, everything in his path was showered in foamy carbon dioxide. Including, but not limited to, poor little Onion.

But Onion was unfazed. If anything, Onion enjoyed the chaos. He was the one who started the fire, and he did it for a reason. He lived for danger. For pain. For sorrow and misery. Onion was a sadist.

He wiped his cheek of the white foam and turned to you, slowly reaching into his pocket and retrieving a small lighter.

Your eyes widened as he began to run away; "ONIOOOOON!"

You chased after the small Onion while Steven struggled to extinguish the fire. How Onion set METAL on fire, you'll never know.

"aaAAHHHHH IT'S SPREADING!!!" Steven yelled to you from the opposite side of the arcade.

"I've got my own problems to deal with!" You responded as Onion threateningly held his lighter by Punch Buddy.

"Not Punch Buddy!" You begged the small Onion. "Anything but Punch Buddy! Mr. Smiley would flip!"

Onion looked at you, then at the lighter, then back to you.

"Do not even think about it," you warned him. "I am VERY flammable Onion, I'd die!"

Onion approached you slowly, his lighter leading the way. His eyes burned brighter than the surrounding fire. You took what you thought might've been your final breath before Onion jumped on you and sat on your shoulders. From there, he held his lighter to the smoke detector, and water rained down from the ceiling.

You breathed out a deep sigh of relief; "good boy." Onion hopped off your shoulders and braced his fall with a somersault before booking it out the door. What a weird kid.

You looked over at Steven through the chaos and grimaced at the black remains of Teens Of Rage 2.

"We're so dead," he whimpered.

And right on cue, Mr. Smiley walked through the door, fuming.

"It was Onion, I swear!" Steven exclaimed, wasting no time to throw little Onion under the bus.

Mr. Smiley couldn't even yell. He was so angry, that he could barely speak. "An entire 20 minutes of your training tapes was dedicated to de-escalating 'code onions," he said through his teeth.

"It just happened so fast," you spoke up, defending Steven. But when Mr. Smiley turned to you, absolutely seething, you butted out of their conversation.

"You're lucky I insured everything in here since the last time you wrecked everything," Mr. Smiley said to Steven, up close and personal.

"Oh, good!" Steven laughed nervously.

"No, not good. You still caused insane damage, AGAIN, and now I have to clean up the mess," Mr. Smiley must've regained his ability to yell, because he was certainly yelling now.

"This was your FIRST DAY!" He gestured to the scene around them, smoke floating from a pile of junk, extinguisher foam everywhere, and water was still raining down from the sprinklers. Mr. Smiley's forehead veins popped out with every word he spat; "Steven, I am speechless, and that is rare."

Steven gulped, looking up at the frowny Mr. Smiley.

"Steven, you..." Mr. Smiley blinked long and hard, taking a deep breath, "...are FIRED!"

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