What... ...doing... ...there?"
I blink groggily at the noise and attempt to sit up, only to ram my head into an unforgiving metal plate. I wince in pain and reflexively lower myself back down, just to be greeted by arguably the worst stench I've ever had the misfortune of having shoved in my nostrils. As I violently retch from the unbearable smell, I lurch to try to get myself away from it, which turns out to be a mistake as my forehead gets bludgeoned for the second time in as many seconds by what is quickly becoming my arch nemesis.
"Good lord! Calm down for a second, and I'll try to help you out, lad, but don't get any of that muck on me."
While holding my now tender forehead, I finally blink enough to clear my eyes from the sheen that was left from me sleeping, and see a rather large, rather hairy hand coming towards me. Unwilling to bear the smell any longer than I have to, I'm more than willing to take the hand my savior is offering me. As he helps me crawl out of what I now recognize as a dumpster, I catch my bearings and take a look around. I appear to be in an alley of some sort, between two dilapidated wood walls, complete with a comically stereotypical green dumpster and trash littering the ground. Finally getting a good look at my hero, he's a portly man with a thick mustache, greasy slicked back ginger hair, and a garish red apron marked with the words "Fugly Bob's" emblazoned on it. Why does that sound familiar? Looking closer, I also notice a nametag reading "Daniel".
"Lad, I know I'm pretty, but you're gonna make me blush if you keep staring." Daniel remarks, bringing me out of my reverie. He's still wiping his hand off on his apron, trying to get dumpster juice off of it.
"Sorry, sorry, just trying to catch my bearings. I don't usually wake up in a dumpster, y'know... You didn't happen to see who put me in there, did you?" I reply, brushing the remaining trash off my clothes; however, it seems like a futile endeavor, as no amount of brushing is going to remove the stains and the smell. Oh, the smell. That's gonna haunt me for days.
"I didn't, no. You're saying somebody went through the effort of dragging you into a dumpster, and you didn't wake up? I wish I could sleep that deeply." Daniel chuckles, before continuing, "I tell you what, I've got a spare uniform in the back of my truck, should fit you fine. If you don't mind being dressed like a walking billboard, that is." He tosses the trash bag he's been holding into the dumpster before walking out of the alley, obviously expecting me to follow him.
"I think I'd prefer anything over this." I mutter, and start to follow. As I walk, it starts to set in that I woke up in a dumpster, in an alley I've never seen, and as I exit the alley, it seems I woke up in a completely different city considering I have no absolutely no idea where I am. I recognize none of the buildings, none of the infrastructure, and as I stare off in the distance, I see water. A lot of water. And boats? How the hell did I wake up near a beach? When I went to sleep, I was at least 100 miles away from any large body of water!
With the realization that I'm very, very far away from home, and I have no idea how I got here, some panic starts to creep in. Was I drugged? Why would someone drug me and leave me in a dumpster so far away? I pat my pockets, and realize my wallet's missing, and my phone is gone. But still, if they wanted my phone and wallet, why drag me to another city? I have a lot of questions, and no answers. At least they didn't take my organs... wait... did they?! After a quick check under my shirt, I don't see any scars, and I don't feel any different, so I put that worry aside for now.
Still walking on autopilot, I'm startled out of my thoughts when I bump into Daniels admittedly wide back. He's grabbing the tackiest uniform I've ever seen out of a bag on the bed of a run down silver truck. The "outfit" is absolutely hideous, fully colored the same garish red on Daniels apron, with white cuffs on the shirt and white stripes running down the pants. Green buttons though, which has to be some type of crime.
"I have to ask, why are you going out of your way to replace my clothes when you don't even know me?" I inquire while Daniel hands me the uniform. It feels just as tacky as it looks, being poorly stitched together out of cheap polyester and too-rigid plastic for the accents.
"Well, lad, this was gonna be the next thing that ended up in that dumpster, so it's only fitting that it goes to you now. And don't tell anyone, but I fancy myself a philanthropist." Daniel mock whispers to me, "Look, there's a bathroom in Fugly Bob's you can change in, and then you can be on your way. Wherever that may be. I have to go back to work." He points towards the wooden shack next to the dumpster, and starts to make his way towards the back entrance of it.
"Well... thanks, I guess. I owe you one." I respond, and I briskly walk to the front through the alley, passing the accursed dumpster on the way. As I walk inside the thankfully almost empty restaurant, I spot the restroom and rush to it, politely ignoring the twisting face of the poor man that got a whiff of me as he was eating a burger. I run into the nearest stall, and quickly but carefully divorce the contaminated clothes from my body, replacing them with the uniform Daniel gave me. It's a bit loose, but anything is an improvement over wearing actual trash. It's tempting to leave the biohazardous clothing on the floor of the stall, not wanting to touch them ever again, but I'm not so terrible as to make someone else suffer that indignity. So I pick them up as lightly as possible, tossing them in a trash can as I leave the stall before vigorously washing my hands with enough hand soap that bubbles are cascading out of the sink.
After a few minutes of washing, I finally feel clean enough to stop rubbing my hands raw. Going to dry my hands, I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. And I look like an affront to nature. My luscious long brown hair is gone, replaced by a short buzz cut, my eyes are sunken even more than usual, I've got a nasty bruise on my forehead, I'm dressed like a forbidden love affair between Ronald McDonald and Bob's Big Boy, and to top it all off, my mustache is gone. Why. Not only did someone kidnap me, potentially drug me, steal my phone and wallet, and leave me in a dumpster, they shaved me? And cut my hair? Are they the Joker? What the hell?!
Actually, now that I'm looking at myself, I look skinnier too. My skin is missing some freckles, and my jawline is weaker. Am I shorter, too? What the fuck? I'm at least 6 inches shorter!
I feel chills running down my spine at that realization. That doesn't make any sense. At all. How could I be shorter? Was I experimented on or something? That raises a lot more questions. If I wasn't kidnapped just for my phone and wallet, and I was actually taken to be experimented on and them dumped in a dumpster in a city I don't recognize? Am I supposed to be dead? Why else would they throw me in a dumpster? Fuck...
I pinch myself. Hard. Now is not the time to be breaking down. I need to figure out where I am, why I'm here, and how to get home. There has to be somewhere nearby that has a computer I can use, right? I'll ask Daniel. I stand up from leaning on the sink, and take a second to compose myself. As I go to walk out of the bathroom, my stomach makes itself very known with a grumble that could've rivaled an earthquake. Well, I am in a restaurant...
I walk out of the bathroom, and take my time to look around this time. Fugly Bob's is a large wooden shack, with the layout of a old-timey diner. There are empty wooden tables scattered around, some booths, and a bar on one end of the establishment with decaying wooden stools that don't look very trustworthy. Looks like the man that I did a dumpster drive-by to left before I could apologize. Throughout the whole establishment the only thing I can smell is grease, and a faint scent of rotten wood. Behind the bar I see Daniel working a cash register and taking an order by a remarkably ordinary couple, so I decide to wait in line. When they're done with their orders, I walk up.
"Long time no see. There wouldn't happen to be any free food on the menu, would there? I'm starving, my wallet is gone, and I don't particularly want to go back to that dumpster to look for food." I implore, giving him my best puppy dog eyes. Daniel doesn't look impressed.
"No, lad. We wouldn't be in business very long if we gave out free food. Although, we do have a challenge, if you're a big eater. The Challenger, if you finish it, you don't have to pay. I'll warn you though, it's a beast. A big, greasy, mean beast, that might give you a heart attack." Daniel explains, and I perk up.
"Despite my stature, you'll find my stomach is a black hole. I'll take it." I brag, smirking. Daniel raises a lone eyebrow, and I puff my chest out. I know how much I can eat, and many a food challenge has fallen to me before. It's almost enough to put me in a good mood, although the depth of my situation comes back with a vengeance almost immediately.
Daniel must've noticed, as he sighs and says, "Kid, just sit down and I'll bring it out. Legally, I have to warn you that if you die, experience heart complications, faint, or ruin your stomach lining, Fugly Bob's takes no responsibility." And with that comforting remark, he walks in the back, leaving me to stew. Kid? I'm 21! What does he mean, kid? Although, if he thinks I'm a kid, that explains why he's been so kind. Oh god, he thinks I'm a homeless kid that sleeps in dumpsters.
Wait.
Missing freckles, missing moles, more baby fat on my cheeks, less hair, no mustache... I'm shorter too...
Did I turn into a kid?! How?! Why? I mean... it's not a terrible thing, now that I think about it. Will I live longer now? I feel like I have more energy too... and it explains why I've been so emotional since I woke up. Fucking hormones. My emotions are bouncing all over the place, despite the fact that I should probably be having a break down right now. Am I having a manic episode?
As I stew, Daniel comes out with a tray hidden by a thin piece of paper. Hidden is a strong word, considering all the grease has soaked right through the paper and I can basically see through it. Daniel lays the tray in front of me, and rips off the paper, revealing the abomination underneath. A burger, if you could call it that, that's at least 8 inches across and half that tall, dripping wet with grease. There's one pitiful slice of lettuce between all the meat. I swallow, not because I'm salivating, but out of terror. I look up at Daniel, and he's looking at me with clear pity in his eyes.
"You asked for it, lad. Don't look to me now. Show me what that stomach you're so proud of can do." Daniel says, and walks back to the cash register just in time to catch another order.
I look down at the veritable slab of meat in front of me, and I realize I made a mistake. I'm a kid again. My stomach is probably half the size I'm used to. Oh no... Well, it's already in front of me, so I might as well try. With that thought driving me, I try to pick up the burger only for the immense grease to make it evade my grip. I pick it up again, white knuckling it this time, and I take a bite. It's actually not bad, there's a lot of meat but the overwhelming grease makes it slide down easier. I keep eating, taking bite after bite, but I start to slow when I get a quarter through. When there's half left, I feel too queasy, and I have to drop it. I take a few seconds to breathe, letting the grease cascade down my throat, and I start to feel distraught. I can't eat the rest, but I can't pay for it either. Thankfully, Daniel seems like a nice guy, and like he said, he's a philanthropist, right? He won't make a "kid" pay for this. Right?
I grumble to myself as I wash another dish. I can't believe this. This has to be illegal. I'm a minor, right? Actually, I don't know how old I look, but it's the principle of it. I grumble more as I reach for another plate to wash, just as Daniel rounds the corner.
"Look, lad, you fit right in! You've got the outfit, you've got the work, now we just need to get you a name tag and you basically got the job." Daniel chuckles as I send him a glare that probably looked less intimidating than I wanted.
"You're lucky I'm a man of my word, or I would've ran by now. Damn it, I should've just asked you where to find a computer and left. You better pay me for this." I mutter, finishing up the two dishes I had left. I start drying my hands off on a towel as Daniel walks over to me.
"You wanna find a computer? You can go to the library, or come back to my place and use mine." Daniel says, handing a small envelope to me. I look inside, and find a couple bills. I go to thank him, then what he says finally parses in my brain.
"Dude, you know that sounds creepy as hell, right?" I state as I grimace, cringing back from him a bit. Daniel matches my grimace, realizing how it sounded.
"Lad, I didn't mean it like that. Look, all I'm saying is, I know you probably don't have a place to stay, and I've got... had, a son your age. It's... uncomfortable, to know that you're out on the streets at night. I don't want you dying in an alley from some ganger that wants to rob you." Daniel explains, getting a look in his eye that I've seen one too many times. It clicks that the outfit I'm wearing is probably his sons... and he was going to throw it away... damn. He has done a lot for me, the least I can do is help him in any way I can, even if that means "replacing" his son for a bit. Until I get my bearings, at least.
"...alright, Daniel. Just for tonight. I'll leave in the morning to find my way back to where I'm from, though." I sigh. Daniel nods, and quickly turns around to start doing miscellaneous tasks around the kitchen. I count the bills he gave me, and the total is $77, which is a lot for only 5 or so hours of work. Maybe he felt bad for making a kid work all day to pay back for a burger. Thankfully, he seems like a good enough guy that I'll probably be safe staying with him tonight. I'll still keep my guard up though, I'll be damned if I let ginger Mario get one over on me.
Eventually, Daniel finishes up closing the restaurant, and we walk out to a surprisingly beautiful sunset. I get my first good look at the market we're in, even as the light from the sun is fading and everyone else is wrapping up their stalls. All I could see looking out was asphalt, with stall after stall being taken down by a variety of people. Some were picking up knick-knacks, some were bundling up merchandise, and some were packing up food. On the edges of the asphalt, there was brown grass surrounding the market, clearly dying from being stepped on too often, and a road leading out into what I assume is the city. Weird looking people were walking up and down the stalls, with black uniforms on and batons out. They reminded me of a PMC, for some reason. I guess they're like mall police? As Daniel and I walked to his truck, I get a better view of the water, and I notice something I didn't the first time.
A massive structure of what looks like concrete, floating in the middle of the water. Coming off of a flat platform were large buildings with arches and spires between them, with significantly better architecture than what I've seen of the rest of the city; however, the most glaring thing about it all was the massive blue dome around it. What the fuck is that. The first thought that comes to mind is a forcefield, but those don't exist. So why is there a dome over it? Is it like the sphere in Vegas, just a bunch of LEDs showing an image of architecture? Why build it out in the sea? How did I miss this? Wait, I can just ask.
"Daniel, what is that?" I say, pointing out to the ominous blue dome.
"That's the Protectorate Headquarters, lad. Boy, you must've been dragged here from far away if you don't recognize that." Daniel says lackadaisically, like he didn't just drop a bomb on me. The Protectorate. Fugly Bob's. Fuck. Fuck. He's pranking me, right? There's no way.
"What, like Worm? Actually though, what is that?" I chuckle nervously, imploring him to say literally anything else.
"I'm telling you lad, it's the Protectorate. There's not a soul in the city that doesn't know about 'em." Daniel responds, looking at me with a raised eyebrow. I can tell he's confused by my reference to Worm.
Oh, this is a dream. That explains everything. I guess I'm lucid dreaming? I've never done so before, but I guess you can feel pain in them. That's really weird. I'd like to wake up now.
I wait, but I don't wake up. Do I have to go to sleep in the dream to wake up? It's a good thing we're going to Daniels house then.
Daniel's still looking at me, but I shrug and motion to the car, so he unlocks it and we both get in. He starts the car, and we're off, driving over rough roads, pot holes, pebbles, and everything else that could jostle me. This dream city really needs to get its shit together and fix these roads. There's an awkward silence in the car, so I decide to stare out the window at the sights passing by. It's an awfully realistic city, and it makes me kind of sad that even in my dreams there are people robbing other people, and what looks to be like Nazis? Wait, why the hell are the Nazis in my dream? Right... Worm. It makes sense that the Empire would be here if my brain is thinking of Worm.
Eventually, we pull up to a slightly dilapidated house. Not falling apart or anything, but it's obviously got some wear and tear. Daniel exits the truck first, and I blink out of my thoughts and get out too. He leads me inside and says something, but it barely registers. I ask where I can sleep, and he brings me upstairs to a room that I honestly don't really register. Daniel says something about his son, but I just lay down on the bed, too tired to care. After a minute of awkwardly standing there, Daniel sighs and leaves, closing the door behind him. I hear him go down the stairs, and with newfound silence in the room, I start to fall asleep.
I wake up to the sounds of construction, and bright light flooding through my room. Happy to be free of that haunting dream, I hum to myself as I get out of bed, stretch, wipe my eyes, and immediately notice the posters on the wall. The posters. Of Armsmaster.
Fuck.
It wasn't a dream. I somehow got thrown into Worm, in a dumpster, as a younger version of myself. Why? How? Usually with these types of things you fill out a CYOA or something and magically appear with your build, but I don't do CYOAs. I don't fill out anything. Why me? I didn't meet a ROB, I didn't get a power, I just... woke up, in a dumpster. Outside of Fugly Bob's. I barely notice myself starting to hyperventilate.
I need to calm down. Okay, make a plan. I need to figure out some way to survive. I need a place to stay, a way to make money, and some way to protect myself from what's coming. I can stay with Daniel for now, and I can try to swing a job at Fugly Bob's, but I need power. People usually get powers when this type of thing happens, right? I haven't seen anything that shows I have a power, but I might have something, so I'll need to test. If that fails, I need to find a way to get someone with powers on my side. Taylor? Hell no, she's as liable to kill me as she is to protect me. The Undersiders? No, not only would Taylor join them at some point, I'm not interested in interacting with Lisa at all. There's no way I'm going to join a gang, so that leaves Coil and Faultline. I'm not even going to entertain the thought of joining Coil, and Faultline won't accept me unless I can help Case 53's somehow. Oh shit, I have to worry about Cauldron too.
What do I do about Cauldron? I can't tell anyone and I can't do anything about them myself. Actually, do I have a power? Contessa hasn't shown up to mindfuck me, and I'm pretty sure she would have by now unless there was interference somehow. Or maybe I'm so weak that she's not even interested? There's not much use in thinking about it too much, I can't do anything about it regardless.
I should really go talk to Daniel and use his computer to find some information. I snap out of my thoughts and realize that I've been pacing in circles around the room, stepping on discarded piles of clothes strewn about the room. Actually looking around the room for the first time, it looks lived in, like whoever used it could come back at any moment. There are clothes all over the floor, CDs scattered here and there, various Protectorate posters and merch of different Heroes, and a guitar in the corner of the room that looks well used. The only sign at all that this room hasn't been in use recently is a fine layer of dust over everything. I guess Daniel hasn't gotten around to cleaning it yet. The door to get out of the room is plastered with a full size poster of Miss Militia, or at least who I think is Miss Militia. I mean, she's got an American flag bandana, and a glowing green gun, so I'm fairly confident.
As the old wooden door creaks open, I exit the room and enter the hallway, I take a look around and notice he has a lot of pictures on the walls. Most of them are of him, a brunette woman, and a young kid around my height posing in various places. I guess that's his wife and son? Wait, is his wife here? Does she know he brought a kid he barely knows home? I hurry to the end of the hallway and fly down the stairs. Entering the living room, I'm met with the sight of Daniel lounging on a fraying leather couch, watching the news on an old looking TV. I ignore the news and walk up to Daniel, leaning on one end of the couch as I start to speak.
"Hey... sorry for ignoring you last night, I guess everything that happened yesterday caught up to me, and I just wanted to go to sleep." I apologize sheepishly. I do feel bad for brushing him off like I did last night, just because I thought it was a dream.
"It's all good lad, I didn't take it personally. I know yesterday was rough on ya. Sleep well?" Daniel responds casually, still watching the news. Something about the mayor and a casino?
"I slept like a log. Thanks for letting me stay for the night... and sorry to ask this of you, but the situation has... changed. Can I stay a bit longer? I plan on getting a job at Fugly Bob's, so I can pay rent." I ask. I don't want to take advantage of his kindness, especially when life's already got him down.
"Don't worry about it, kid. Stay as long as you like, you're paying me enough by being off the streets. Though I won't say no to you helping with some chores around here, they've been piling up with only two pairs of hands." Daniel remarks, finally turning to look at me. The look in his eyes shows the same pain he was in yesterday, but there's something more now. I can only hope me being here is helping him, somehow. At least I have confirmation that his wife is, indeed, still alive. Thank god.
"Of course, man. First though, can I use your computer? I need to look some things up." I say, awkwardly trying to change the subject.
"Sure, lad. It's right over there. The password is HouseRulez. With a z." Daniel replies, pointing to the corner of the living room where an old desktop is sitting on a table. That thing looks downright archaic. I walk over to it, impatiently wait a minute for it to start up, input the password, and open up Internet Explorer. The fact that I'm using Internet Explorer of all things really makes it set in that I'm not in 2025 anymore, compounding the lingering feeling of dread I've been feeling since I woke up. I quickly look at the date and time to find that it's currently 7:33 PM, March 22nd, 2011. That gives me what, two, three weeks before Taylor tries to commit suicide by Lung? That's not... horrible, I guess, but having at least a month would've been nice. Does this mean I'm pre or post Bakuda recruitment? I only read Worm once, and that was like a year ago, so I have no clue. I've decided my first order of business at least - stopping Bakuda from flying off the handle and playing terrorist. Dunno how I'm gonna do that, but I'll figure that out later.
As I navigate to PHO, I hear Daniel going upstairs, but I put it out my mind quickly. I skim through the oddly modern looking forums, trying to find where the information for active heroes and villains is, until I see the "Wiki" tab. Thankfully, it's partitioned by location, so I select "Brockton Bay" and start my informational grind. As I read up on the heroes and villains I vaguely know about, I notice something odd. There's a hero here that I don't recognize, going by the name... Browbeat? Apparently he's a new addition to the Wards, but hasn't participated in anything outside of patrols and minor arrests yet? Who is this guy? As I try to recall my knowledge of Worm, nothing comes to mind, which can only mean one thing. I've not only been dropped in Worm, I've been put into some weird AU of it. So I can't even trust my metaknowledge. Fuck. How many heroes and villains are gonna pop up, that aren't mentioned in the story at all? Am I gonna get blindsided by other out of context threats, on top of all the other bullshit that happens in Worm?
I pull myself together with a deep, drawn out sigh. Worm really is suffering. Oh well, no use worrying about it now. I continue my research into anything and everything that I can remember from Worm, until my stomach knocks me back into reality with a rumble. I look at the time, and it's 7:56 already. I move to get up, only for a plate to be unceremoniously dropped in front of me, with a BLT that smells like heaven on it. I look up at Daniel, a thanks already forming on my lips, until I realize that I never heard Daniel come back downstairs. No, the person standing before me is not the portly middle aged man that rescued me from a dumpster. It's a woman, with brown hair and striking green eyes - a stroke of genius occurs, and I connect the dots - this must be Daniels wife. She's still looking down at me, her eyes growing more concerned the longer I stare, so I snap myself out of it.
"Hello, miss...?" I stutter on her name, given that I don't know it.
"Just call me Angela. I didn't know what you liked, so I made you a BLT. Hope ya don't mind." She drawls with a decidedly southern accent. I glance back down at the BLT, and the heavenly smell hits my nose once again.
"Thank you, it smells incredible. Sorry to intrude." I reply. I hope Daniel at least warned her that I would be staying for a while, otherwise things are gonna be very awkward.
"Don't worry about it, dear. Daniel caught me up on everything last night. Stay as long as you need, okay? The house feels too quiet nowadays anyways." Angela says before bending over a bit and patting my head. She actually pat my head. Just how young do I look to these people?!
"Uh... thanks, Angela. Do you know when Daniel heads out for work? I need to get some stuff done and I was hoping he'd drop me off on the way there." I inquire, feeling a twinge of guilt when she twitches at my discomfort.
"He'll be heading out in a couple minutes, should be just enough time for you to finish your food and join him. I'll leave you be now, but call if you need anything. I'll be in the kitchen." She responds, stuttering for a second as she stops herself from giving me another head pat before walking back into the separated room I presume to be the kitchen. I focus my attention on the BLT begging to be eaten, and I give in to my cravings. It tastes just as good as it smells.
Shaking my hands to fling off any remaining water, I step out of the bathroom, having cleaned up a bit in preparation to going out. Just in time, as I make eye contact with Daniel as he comes downstairs, dressed for work.
"Hey Daniel, mind taking me with you? I have some stuff I want to get done today, and if I have time after I'll come back to Fugly Bob's and work a bit." I implore him. I notice his eyes flicker down to the bag I'm holding, containing my "work outfit". I can't see much from his expression, but my use of a bag I found in his sons room must've offput him.
"Sure, lad. I don't think my heart'll be able to take it if ya give me the cold shoulder on the drive again, though." He jokes as we walk through the front door, but I sense a tiny amount of truth in it.
"Don't worry, I'll be wide awake this time. You'll be witness to the full force of my immense personality." I joke back. I notice Angela coming out to see us off, and now that she's not looming over me, I can see that she's massive. At least as tall as I used to be, before my height got stolen from me by the forces that be. I'd ballpark her at around 6 feet, maybe a few inches more. As she hugs Daniel and sends him off, the height disparity is immense, as Daniel can't be taller than 5'8". Lucky bastard.
"Sure, sure, boy. Just get in the damn car already." He mutters, making his way to the driver side door as I struggle to reach the passenger doors handle. Damn this truck, and damn my newfound -oldfound?- height. He chuckles genially as he opens it for me from within, and it evolves into a full laugh as I stumble trying to stand on the side bar. I glare at him, and he laughs even harder. Fuck, I'm gonna have to deal with this from now on. I used to be respectable! I'm not looking forward to having to recalibrate to suddenly being six inches shorter.
As he takes off, and we start to engage in small talk, I mentally go over my check list for what I need to get done today. First step is to find out if I have powers, so I'm gonna walk from Fugly Bob's to the infamous boat graveyard and conduct a variety of tests. Every step after is going to be based off the results of the first step, so that's the checklist for now. Almost half an hour of deliberation, and I've only decided on one thing to get done. Damn. Guess I'll just enjoy Daniels company until we get there.
As the car ride reaches its end, I've learned entirely too much about Daniel, his work life, his personal life, and everything in between. The guy is not quiet at all. I don't know why he thinks I need to know his admittedly thorough skincare routine, but I don't. The only things of note I've learned is that Angela works as a mechanic for the Dockworkers, which explains why they live near the docks, and that Daniel is the vaunted Senior Manager at Fugly Bob's. Guess that's why he could just up and decide that I get to work there. Apparently the owner is some dude that is completely hands off with the place, so Daniel is the Big Guy in charge. Interesting, but doesn't really help with my whole "the world's gonna end in two years" dilemma. Or any of the other tragedies that happen in the interim.
Regardless, as we hop out of the truck, I leave my bag with him and start trekking north to the graveyard. I keep out of sight of other people, and stick to unpopulated alleys and dark corners of stalls as I make my way. I'm not particularly afraid of thieves or gangers, because the enforcers patrolling the market en masse are some tough looking bastards, but better safe than sorry. I can't say I'm holding out hope that I do, somehow, have powers. It would be just my luck to be dropped into Worm with nothing but the clothes on my back. In the middle of lamenting my situation, I'm blindsided by the divine smell of a... kebab? I think? Doesn't matter, what does matter is that I'm hungrier than I thought I was, and I have money. I come out of the shadows, and make my way towards a glorified tent with a signboard reading, "Asads Kebabs!". I hate to cheat on Fugly Bob's, but a prettier woman has appeared in the form of a neighborly looking middle eastern man. As soon as I step under the tarp making up the top half of the tent, the smell amplifies as I spot the array of kebabs on display. The man I presume to be Asad spots me, and excitedly beckons me over to the counter.
"Hello! Welcome to Asads Kebabs! Young friend, have a look at our menu!" The man points at a chalkboard sign hanging to the right of him, listing a couple different types of kebabs.
"You have a menu? That's-" I choke in the middle of my sentence, as my attention is quickly drawn to the... panel, floating in front of me. It's a translucent blue, and doesn't shift when I move my head, staying in the exact same spot in my vision.