He called me an idiot after that. We talked a bit more, but then my burger showed up and I was promptly distracted by the concept of being able to eat something.
Which I did, and it was deliciousin a way only food eaten after not having any for what was technically a week could be. Three patties of meat, each with an outside that was crisp with char, not burnt but just enough to form a sort of pseudo shell of deliciousness over tender ground meat.
The cheese was present in levels sufficient to complement without overpowering. The onions still sharp and crisp, the ketchup highlighting things with it's sharp vinegary flavor though again not in an overpowering quantity all on a sour doe bun.
It was amazing. It was everything a eighteen dollar hamburger should be. The absolute apex of blue collar decadence.
~And now you're monologue about food~
I was fucking hungry alright? I know the pod didn't really count much since I didn't even really have a body for most of my stay in it, but I hadn't eaten anything since I had hatched, and the new body while supernaturally efficient was still pretty high performance.
Anyway my Caste mark finally deiced to fade away out of view by the end of all that. I knew I was still a simmering pool of half expended energy under the surface, I could feel the sort of odd empty hollowness of the expended essence. It was almost like suffering from blood loss only with a lot less dizziness. I felt cold and tired... thought that could just have been me not having a shirt while being out on the street without a place to sit and rest.
I have braved social battle with the head of the protectorate and walked away with my freedom intact. He'd been grouchy, given me a card, and told me to call him when I smartened up but I had gotten away victorious and stuffed on food I hadn't paid for.
That was a win in any book.
The issue now was making it through the night or at least until I had enough juice recovered that I could slip my shadow back on without bathing the whole of Brockton Bay in Ligier's radioactive radiance.
Not that I was actually radioactive yet. Still needed to train up until I got up to the supercanser inflicting green fire punch.
...When did my life become an anime again?
~When you signed on with the Yozi~
Oh, right. That was when.
Anyway, food was good, but right now I was left walking through the streets with people looking at me in fear and interest, occasionally snapping pictures on their cameras.
And I had completely forgotten about asking about the name change thing. Damn it. Oh well next time maybe.
So... where could I find a place to crash that wouldn't involve someone trying to shank me in my sleep, recruit me to be a superhero, Nazi, drug addict, hobo, or other miscellaneous affiliation?
Most normal humans were out. Sure plenty were good people but at the same time plenty were not, or at least desperate enough to functionally not be ones. I needed someone well off enough to be comfortable taking in a homeless parahuman for a night but not militant enough that they'd try to pressgang me.
I blinked as a thought occurred to me.
And hour and a half later I finally found a pay phone outside of some bus terminal and began rapidly flipping through the phonebook.
Ah there we go.
Sliding in a few coins I'd collected off the street (which was an adventure so mundane as to not really be worth mention), I dialed the number.
The phone run once, twice, three times, then on the forth time it picked up.
"Hi! Is this Parian's Advertising service?"