Thankfully the ride back home was rather uneventful, I lived on the outskirts of the ghetto’s in between the ghetto’s and the richer part of the city, there are pros and cons to living here instead of the other two, still gangs nearby, but not enough of them to threaten or push out the police, or beaters as many of the gangs called them, as ‘extrajudicial beatings’ are a rather common thing among their ranks, if you give them any sort of trouble - which gangs tend to do in excess these days. But while the richer parts were safer, they were after all more expensive, and spending half my earnings on rent and the other half on the massive amount of other things they charged like security and maintenance costs coupled with regulations on what you could and couldn't do on your own property made it impossible for me to live there without risking more than my face in a fight.

Maybe because I still felt anxious about being followed, or just because I wasn’t being entirely stupid today I decided to make several laps around the area, taking a different street each time. After a few passes I’d come to the conclusion that I wasn’t being followed, or at the very least if I was I couldn’t see them and was going to run out of gas long before I noticed if some stealth Altered was trailing me from the apartment tops and the roofs of the stores I passed. Deciding to just head home for the night I pulled into my own street after the fourth pass I’d made, and drove straight towards my apartment.

I hope I don't run into anyone else, fucking blabbermouths all around will probably ask why I look like I just lost a fight against a bear.

Apartments, like most things after the invasion, had seen plenty of innovations in both good and bad ways. On one hand you had the capability to mix powders infused with different types of magics to increase the strength and durability of practically any material, from steel to concrete. On the other hand though you also had landlords with a tendency to use equipment capable of spying into people’s apartments. After dozens of arrests and even more lawsuits that still crop up from time to time today the issues had mostly been resolved with people able to buy relatively cheap devices capable of blocking most of the low grade scrying and divination magic’s that the more nosy or creepiest of landlords tended to use. Of course this only went as far as you were willing to pay, while it’d stop idiots and black market spying tools it wouldn’t do much to prevent a team of well trained military personnel from using more advanced tools. Like all things, money and power are the only real ways to be even relatively safe in life. Luckily for me the landlord for my building is an older couple, even luckier for me is that they like me enough that they hopefully wouldn’t bother spying on me unless they thought I was actually doing something illegal.

Gonna sleep till next week, then I'm going north, the north side pit fights at least know well enough to stay the fuck away from cartel bullshit.

As I pulled up to the apartment I drove towards the right side of the building where the underground parking garage was, then pinged the door with my car's console. As the door slowly opened I drove inside and parked in the closest spot to the elevator.

Just a little bit further and we’re done.

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As I struggled to get out of the vehicle I heard another car begin to enter the garage as the door opened again. Looking over the vehicle entering seemed to be the landlord's husband, Donovan. As he drove over and parked beside me I began lifting myself out of the seat by the roof of the shit-box I was currently trapped in.

While I was acting like a cat stuck in a wet paper bag, the old man got out of the side of his vehicle and walked towards me while carrying a small bag of groceries. Donovan was an alright guy, in most cases anyways. He’d served in the LPC- Life Protection Corps for nearly a decade before getting injured in a cartel bombing incident that nearly tore him in half. The scars from which even after multiple healing appointments and surgeries had left no small amount of scars along the lower part of his torso. With a strong tan from years of manual labor before and during his time in the corps and his above average height sitting somewhere near 6’5 the man was built like a truck. Even if I outweighed him due to my unique body I didn’t have any real confidence in beating him in a fight when I was healthy, let alone now. Not that I'd ever need to, as he always seemed as one of the few people who looked out for others in this place.

“Mark, are you okay? You seem to be having a bit of trouble.” as he got to the side of my vehicle he looked at me as I was leaning against it and saw the sorry state I was in. From this close up I could easily make out his face, weathered from years of work and wrinkles from age and the constant smile he always wore, not a surprise he was able to land such a nice woman as a wife and then stay married to her for over 30 years.

“Shit son” he breathed out as he tried to put an around under my armpit to help me away from the vehicle. “You look like you lost a fight against a Dire Wolf, did you get jumped by a damn Bruiser while you were out?” With both of us breathing heavily, me from the pain and him from trying to help someone somehow heavier than him while being half his size stand up straight.

As we began to move towards the elevator and the sweet embrace of my bed I replied with a few mumbles about a bar fight that got out of control. I don’t even know if he believed it, but as long as he was willing to help me get to his apartment I didn’t really care at this point.

Thank you lord for sending me this angel in my time of need, I will sacrifice at least three chickens in your name, if I can even find any left anyways.

As we got in the elevator and Donovan was kind enough to press the button for the third floor where my home was, we began the slow rise up. The sudden lurch and ascent didn’t do anything for my body but compared to the rest of the night this was hardly even noticeable.

Slowly rising up the floors Donovan turned to me and said something I couldn’t catch, when he got a slurred “What?” out of me he simply shook his head and muttered something else I couldn’t understand. While still trying to piece the words together the doors opened with a small chime, and we began moving towards the end of the hall. As we passed some of the doors I ended up tripping over my bad leg, nearly sending us both tumbling down onto the carpet.

Luckily Donovan just laughed it off and picked me back up, before continuing the slow expedition towards my home. As we got to the front door I nearly cried in relief when the door automatically opened and I could make direct eye contact with my couch.

Fuck the bed just let me sit down.

While moving along the wood floors Donovan looked around at what was most likely a few days of dishes and dirty clothes strewn about, before continuing to drag me towards the couch. “You need to clean up a bit or pretty soon you’re gonna have ants in here eating through your food before you can even get to it.” as he was speaking he laid me down on the couch for me to finally rest on it.

I couldn’t care less right now, this couch is too good to give up.

I don’t think I even responded to him before I passed out into a deep sleep.