It was another lazy day at the Mercenaries of Mayhem's new home.
They had no jobs, no debts (for now), and, most importantly, no one was actively trying to kill them.
Jim was drinking.
Marcus was tinkering.
Derek was reading.
Bob was lying on the floor, staring at the ceiling.
Then, out of nowhere, Jim suddenly chuckled to himself.
"You know," he said, "Bob is the last guy I'd expect to have a family."
Marcus smirked. "Yeah, I always just assumed he was some natural disaster that appeared one day."
Derek, not looking up from his book, added, "More like something the gods threw at the world as a joke."
Bob sat up, frowning. "Wait. You guys know about my family, right?"
Jim blinked. "WHAT?!"
Marcus put down his tools. "Since when?"
Bob shrugged. "I thought I told you."
Jim leaned forward. "Bob. We have known you for years. You have never, not once, mentioned about your family except the fact that they are tax collectors."
Bob tilted his head. "Huh. Weird. I could've sworn I did."
Marcus sighed. "Alright, spill it."
Bob stretched. "I come from a long, proud line of tax collectors."
Silence.
Jim choked on his drink.
Bob nodded. "Tax collectors. My family has been collecting taxes for generations."
Jim looked like he was about to pass out from laughing. "This shit always kills me. His entire bloodline is just a bunch of guys who go around taking people's money legally."
Bob grinned. "Yep!"
Marcus leaned back.
Derek sighed. "No wonder you're obsessed with gold. It's in your blood."
Jim wiped a tear from his eye. "I can't believe it. Bob was born to be an accountant, and instead, he's… this."
Bob huffed. "Well, yeah, but I wasn't exactly good at it."
Marcus raised an eyebrow. "So, what happened?"
Bob stretched his arms. "Well, my family kept saying I was, you know… kinda dumb."
Jim burst into laughter again.
Derek sighed. "I mean… they weren't completely wrong."
Bob ignored them. "Anyway, they wanted me to be a proper tax collector, but I wasn't interested. I wanted to do something different."
Jim grinned. "And by 'different,' you mean hitting people with a hammer?"
Bob shrugged. "Hey, it pays better than taxes sometimes."
Marcus nodded.
Jim, still laughing, shook his head. "I just can't picture it. Bob, sitting behind a desk, doing math."
Derek smirked. "Or knocking on doors, politely asking people for their payments."
Bob grumbled. "It was awful. Everyone kept calling me stupid, saying I should just follow what they wanted."
For a moment, Bob's usual grin faded. He looked at them, his voice quieter than usual.
"Ignore those who misdirect you. Focus on what you want. If you let yourself be swayed by others, it won't be long before life wears you down."
The room went silent.
Jim blinked. "…Did Bob just say something wise?"
Marcus frowned. "That was… actually deep."
Derek exhaled. "And now I have to live with the fact that Bob just said something smarter than me."
Bob smirked. "See? I have layers."
Jim chuckled, raising his mug. "To Bob. The dumbest genius we know."
The others clinked drinks, laughing.
Because no matter what else happened in their ridiculous lives, at least none of them were tax collectors.