Title: Hub-Mart
Description: "After making a rocky introduction in the Nexus, Dehaka looks for essence in a safer, more legal manner: by shopping at Hub-Mart."
Notes1: Credit goes to Consort for giving me the idea via review. I actually work at Wal-Mart as a cashier, so I based my experiences there for inspiration. The door greeter is based off a fellow coworker I know well, written in a way as to how he might react in such a situation.
Notes2: Work is also good for when I can write in my little notepad during down periods, and in the past week I have managed to plan out the next thirty-six chapters, one of which is a timeline (i.e. transmission chapter) that will mark the fiftieth chapter. Sadly, I do not think I'll be able to get some writing done as I am working throughout the weekend and this coming Monday. Long hours are quite the drag.
Notes3: The worldbuilding seems to have garnered a bit of positive reception, so I intend to branch out with spinoffs that contain a more linear structure in the near future. I also plan to have more non-Blizzard characters show up (we already have the dogs from Undertale) and interact with the people of the Nexus. Their lore will be fleshed out after the timeline chapter and beyond.

"Where is essence?" Dehaka growled at the door greeter.

The elderly gent turned around and jumped upon seeing the hunchbacked creature blinking up at him. For a moment he stared at the primal Zerg—took in the reptilian shape of his yellow eyes, the thatch of black hair dangling from his chin, the overly large left arm with its equally overly long nails, and the serpentine tail whose barbed tip scraped a long, jagged line along the concrete floor. The greeter was not a stranger when it came to dealing with non-humanoid races, but the latest additions to the Hero League that weren't human always took him some time to adjust and accept that this was and always would be the norm in the Nexus. At least this one brought to mind the image of a cross between a Velociraptor and a Tyrannosaurus Rex shrunk down to the size of a large dog; it was much easier to handle than seeing the Broodmother, whose body rippled with unborn banelings ready to be dispensed and launched at cannon towers and buildings. Just the thought of her made him feel ill.

"Where is essence?" Dehaka repeated patiently.

It broke the spell, and the door greeter hastily gathered his wits and smiled. "Essence, you say?"

"Yes. Where can I find essence?"

"Have you tried looking at the personal care section, down by the pharmacy?"

Dehaka stretched out his neck and peered around the greeter down the aisle. Customers were milling about with shopping carts filled to varying degrees or carried by household androids, whose builds ranged from startlingly human and lifelike to geometric and robotic. He studied the holographic signs flickering just below the ceiling. PHARMACEUTICALS, said one. PERSONAL CARE, said another. COSMETICS, blared the screen behind it, and LAWN AND GARDEN whispered at the very back. He leaned back and narrowed his eyes. "I am not looking for shampoo. It is not that kind of essence. It does not smell like herbs."

"What does this essence look like?" asked the greeter.

"Essence is genetic material carried by all life forms. Does not adhere to the laws of transition. It is always ripe for the taking. An infinite resource."

The greeter shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "I, uh…I don't think we have anything like that. Are you sure you're not talking about shampoo?"

"Have no need for shampoo. Evolution keeps me clean. Keeps the skins moist, the scales strong, and the beard silky smooth. THFTHFTHFTHFTHFTHF." Dehaka's tongue rapidly flickered in and out of his mouth. The man caught a brief flash of teeth as pointed as chainsaw blades and felt a chill dash through his bones.

He nodded. "Okay, so it's not like that…but you said it's ripe. Ripe like fruits and vegetables, correct?"

"Always," Dehaka hissed.

"So it can digested."

"Of course."

"So…what about the produce section? Have you had any luck?"

"I have. There is nothing of the sort. Not in jars. Not in bottles. Not in cans, containers, twice-reinforced burlap sacks and rune bags, or vacuum-sealed plastic packages. Not even in a cooler filled with ice."

"No?"

"No."

"And the pharmacy? Do you see the Hero League physicians? An off-site thamaturge, even?"

"I have no need for prescriptions. I take essence if it is necessary to further advance my evolution. I am my own doctor. I study. I cull. I learn. I grow. But I cannot do either if I do not have essence. Serfs guaranteed I could find essence at Hub-Mart. 'They have ev'ry't'in' there, that Hub-Mart. Hub-Mart prices are allus low,' they said. 'Price matches, membership discounts, holiday specials, you allus git low prices at Hub-Mart.' And yet…I see no essence." His brow crinkled—at least, as much as it could, being composed of rough hide and riddled in scales. "I think they lied to me."

"There is more than one Hub-Mart, you know," said the greeter. "There's one in Jeetilopolis, one in the Shadowskirts, two or three in the Principalities, one in Luxoria, one by the Wend…I'm certain that if we don't carry essence here in Hubtown, you might have a better chance at finding it in one of those places."

Dehaka flicked his tongue across his lips. "Maybe," he rumbled, "but Hubtown Hub-Mart is closest to my domain. I have made many tunnels at my convenience: the Loamdeep, the Hall of Storms, the Terran clinic, the town fairgrounds. I am not evolved enough to dig through the fabric of time and space. Not yet."

"I don't know about that," the greeter noted uncertainly. He had heard stories of what happened to Nexians who dabbled with magicks beyond their comprehension and power. It involved tapping into the temporal rifts as part of a grandiose plan whose details only known amongst themselves. Nine out of ten times it was almost always the churchgoers, but sometimes it was some rogue agent from the NIB, a cadre of Realm Knights patrolling the Shadowskirts and the Anchors separating this main slice of the Nexus from the other worlds, or someone foolish and crazy enough to get his or her hands on a spellbook stored away in the Grand Nexus Library or in one of the many ruins peppered throughout the mainland. "I mean, there's no rush, is there? Evolution takes time," he tacked on hurriedly at the scowling, questioning look Dehaka directed at him. "Humans and humanoids are imperfect, but not you. Not the primal Zerg. That's your whole purpose. It wouldn't do to remain the same and not be content."

"Exactly," said Dehaka. "But I still need essence. I have just only been registered with this so-called Hero League, and already I have been punished for doing what it takes to survive. 'You have three options,' the Board told me. 'You can join Hero League and get all the bonuses that came with it. You can look for employment at our offices and, once position and income are secured, search at any of our local Hub-Marts or thamaturges for pressurized or purified essence. Or you can peruse our hunting grounds, but you will be branded a criminal and hunted down by the Realm Knights and the Nexus Animal Welfare Society for all eternity, until the Nexus has no more need for you.'" The muscles in his body flexed and coiled displeasingly at the memory. "I will not be remembered as a criminal. I will do what I must, even if that means joining the Hero League."

"The Powers have a reason for drawing in the least expected Heroes into the Nexus. Perhaps it was all part of Their Plan. Their Grand Scheme, so to say."

"That means nothing if I am without essence. I cannot obtain it by fighting unless it is sanctioned. I cannot obtain it by hunting the grounds at night lest I be chased away by your Animal Welfare Society." He glanced down at the custom-tailored rune bag strapped to his chest and exhaled a weary, exasperated sigh. "I cannot believe I have been reduced to…shopping…at a den designed for Terrans."

"Oh get over yourself!" Sylvanas said, approaching the pair from off to the left. In her hands were a couple of cans of dog food. "You know just as well the Society won't needlessly harvest animals for essence. They're oh-so precious. They have their privileges. Their lives matter." She scoffed loudly. "Please! Animal lives matter in the digestive tract! Anyway, you'll be lucky if you can find even a drop of the stuff in the Shire."

"Or hunt," said Dehaka.

Sylvanas nodded. "Or hunt. It is your best option."

"My only option, until all the paperwork is finalized."

"It must be troublesome."

"It is very troublesome." Dehaka sighed again, reached up with a hind leg and scratched his flank. "I guess I will look elsewhere. Somewhere the Society is not so prominent. I thank you, Terran. I will take your information to heart and, hrrrrrm, prowl those other Hub-Marts at my own time."

The door greeter laughed and rubbed the back of his neck. "Oh, you're very welcome! And welcome to the Nexus! We hope you'll be able to have a good time here! It's not such a bad place."

"We shall see."

"Truer words were never spoken," said Sylvanas.

"Sylvanas!" Nova called from behind them. She came to a stop, seated in a hovering motorized shopping cart whose bottom was filled with scattered canned goods and bagged produce. "Man, was that all you got? Doodle's gonna need more than that."

Sylvanas frowned, shrugging. "I don't know what he likes. I don't do dog training or dog feeding or even dog caring. I just grabbed what I thought he might like best." She showed them the cans: pork and cheese, ground beef in a savory gravy sauce, and veggies mixed with white rice.

"But now you do, and a time-warping dog needs plenty of sustenance if he wants to grow up and big strong like the rest of his brethren! Get him once of each flavor; it's not like we're short on money or anything."

Sylvanas glanced over her shoulder, back the way she had come. "Really?"

"Hey, don't sweat it! I can get us both there in no time!"

"Ma'am, it's a one-seater," said the door greeter, scrutinizing the shopping cart. "Unless…." He stopped and blinked. "Wait, you can't use them like that!"

Nova grinned. "There's nothing in the rules that says I can't."

Sylvanas glared. "Nova, don't you dare."

"Come on! You know you want to."

"No, I don't."

"Yes, you do!"

"No, I don't."

"Come on. Come on!"

"Nova, I swear to Darkness, if you so much as put that thing into drive and plow into me—"

"Gonna have to catch me first!" And with a hard shift of the gear stick, Nova floored the pedal and slammed right into Sylvanas. The Banshee Queen toppled into the basket, the dog food falling from her hands. Her legs stuck up in the air like a woman in labor and she clung to both sides of the

"NOVA, YOU STUPID GIT!"

"Beep beep! Coming through! Watch your step!" Nova hollered. She went around Dehaka and the door greeter and sped down the aisle, laying on the horn. Customers and servants shouted and jumped out of the way; one man dropped his bag and leapt aside, rolling into a rack of refried beans that fell to the floor. Everyone watched her go, her laughter and Sylvanas's angry threats trailing in a raucous streamer.

Dehaka cocked his head curiously to one side, then looked at the door greeter. "Is this normal?"

The man grimaced. "Well…let's just say…the transition affects everyone a little differently. Some more than others."

"A lot more," said Dehaka, stroking his beard with his nails. "She is…devolved. How very sad."

"Now I wouldn't say that," the greeter chuckled uneasily.