The ground level of the Commons was very similar in structure to the Slums. The cells were still the same length and width, and most of the buildings were still apartments. The main difference was the scale and lighting. While the slums had a lot of natural lighting, most of the lighting here was artificial. The skyscrapers blocked out most of the natural light, leaving the streets in a murky gloom. The average building was over 5 stories tall. Individually owned homes were only common in the High District, so most people in the Commons lived in the apartment buildings. Apartment life wasn't bad, though. Everyone had running water, electricity, comfortable beds, work areas, and recreational areas. Some buildings were comprised of only two rooms per floor, leaving plenty of room for large families to live. There was something for everyone in the city, and most people made their own money legally and safely.
Sadly, this was not the case for everyone. Despite the large police presence with flying camera drones and plenty of people on the force, crime was still rampant in the city. People adjusted to the cameras. They got good at hiding their faces, knocking the cameras with illegal EMPs, or finding some other way to avoid the police. Most of the police didn't even care to arrest petty criminals. The jail space was not limitless, so they liked to reserve it for the murders, rapists, child abusers, and other such offenders. Since murder would get you hunted almost endlessly, at least in section of the city it took place in, most robbers abstained from killing someone. This made the streets less dangerous, but still not the best place to be at night.
It was nearing dusk as Typhos walked down the sidewalk, trying to drown out the constant noise. The Slums, while not the prettiest of places, had been far quieter than the Commons. The hum of vehicles was almost unbearable at ground level, and the constant hubbub of the humans wasn't much better. Typhos considered getting some headphones and a communicator so he could drown out the noise, but decided he could do that later. Currently he was looking for another bar to get drunk at, and perhaps find a job in the process. He needed to establish himself in his new home. Perfect integration was essential to not raising suspicion. If he could simply slide into a job, find a small apartment, and blend in to the community, he could get back to his old way of life. He could try to put his recent relapse behind him and move on with his miserable life.
The street lights flickered overhead as he trudged down the walk, scanning the buildings for any sign of a bar. The crowds here made it much harder to get where he wanted quickly, but he guessed it also made him blend in better. At least, he would blend in if his clothes didn't stand out so much. The random articles of clothing he had pulled from his storage had just happened to be a set of pioneer clothing from 2,000 years ago. The frilly collar and sleeves, tall socks, and buckled shoes didn't really blend in. Suddenly self conscious, Typhos spotted a sign that read "Tipper's Clothing" and ducked inside. He picked a random set of clothing, a shirt that read "Metallurgy" and had a guitar design, baggy pair of denim pants, male combat boots, and a pair of leather gloves. Just as he was about to check out he decided it would be best to buy a hoodie was well. He would prefer if the cameras couldn't track his face wherever he went. Of course, he could always change his face using one facet of his Pretender skill, but he prefered to never shift again. The feeling of shifting bone and squirming muscle was not a pleasant one, and he had a few bad memories attached with that specific skill as well. A hoodie was a rough solution, but it would have to do. Thankfully, Tipper's came with a changing room, and Typhos was soon out on the street again, dropping his old clothes into a trash receptacle just outside the store. He knew the clothes would be sucked into an underground purging facility where they would be completely destroyed, not even leaving ashes behind. The gas would then be channeled into power and used to run a factory somewhere in the city.
Hoodie pulled over his face, Typhos continued his search for a bar. He was kind of surprised at how difficult it was proving. Apparently bars were less common here than in the Slums. However, he eventually found what he was looking for. "Diana's Club" was a small establishment, despite its name. It was positioned on the bottom floor of a 6 story building, and even had a "hiring" sign in the window. Typhos was standing outside the window, looking into the "club" when someone tapped him on the shoulder. He turned around and faced a small man with a handlebar mustache and a beer belly.
"If you're lookin' for a job I wouldn't recommend there mister. Nobody survives the job for more than two weeks with Diana. Ya see, she used to be an adventurer outside of the Extinction Zone. Got 'er level real high out their, and now she has some problems holdin' in 'er temper. Tends to accidentally injure 'er employees. Got some ferocious strength she does."
Typhos raised both his eyebrows at the man, a genuine look of surprise on his face. The Extinction Zone was the 30 kilometer ring the surrounded the Slums. All wildlife, including monsters, had been completely destroyed by the government. There was nothing bust dust in ash in the Extinction Zone. However, the same could not be said for outside of it. Images from drones showed lush forests and mountain ranges that stretched kilometers into the sky. Monsters were a common occurrence, and adventurers were the ones who explored these "Wildlands." They tended to travel in groups and conquer dungeons, or extensive systems in which monsters spawned and congregated. Humans could raise their level by killing monsters, and then upgrade their attributes, making them stronger. What surprised Typhos the most was that Diana had quit the job before she died. Only about 20% of adventurers came back, and even fewer quit before they kicked the bucket.
"I'll be fine." He said to the man before he entered the club.
The inside was about the size of Xavier's bar, but there was a lot more open space. The bar itself was located in the middle of the room, and was in the shape of a circle. The drinks were on shelves on a central pillar that stood in the middle of the bar. Booths lined the walls, with extra large ones in each of the corners. Stools were positioned around the bar itself, giving the patrons a place to sit directly next to the bar. He wasn't sure if the term "club" could be applied, considering no poles, dancers, dancefloors, or other such commodities. It looked more like a restaurant that served liquor than anything else. The lights were dim, and a few of them flickered uncertainty, and the steel floor was dirty and scratched. The stairs to the second floor were positioned in the back left corner, and looked like it would be safer to climb up the outside of the building than ascend them. Typhos could definitely tell Diana didn't care much for appearances. He could relate, though it irked him that she cared so little for the bar.
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The woman herself was currently behind the bar, serving a drink to one of her four patrons. She was tall, but not heavily muscled. She had olive skin and dirty blonde hair that tumbled to her shoulders in a mess of curls. She wore a tank top and a dity pair of denim pants. A small knife was visible on her left hip, and from the look of the sheathe it had seen plenty of use, perhaps in her time in the Wildlands. Typhos made his way to one of the stools and sat down, leaning on his elbows as he waited for Diana to come over. She finished with her current customer and headed over, hear voice flat and leaving no room for argument.
"What'll it be? Whisky, Rum, or Beer? That's all I've got so don't ask for something else."
"Actually, I'm here for the job opening."
This caused her to stop in her tracks, clearly startled. She walked slowly over, putting her hands on the counter and tilting her head slightly.
"You sure? You do know why that job is open, right?" She asked, a bit of hope in her voice.
"A man on the street enformed me, yes, but I'm not worried. I'll be fine."
"Ha, that's what they all say. Well, consider yourself hired. 1000 Vin a day, you can start right away."
"Is there a uniform of something?"
"Oh, hell no! I couldn't stand a uniform, now hurry up and grab the broom from the storage closet in back, someone broke a bottle in the back booth and I never got around the cleaning it up."
Typhos nodded and headed for the back closet. He had intended to be a bartender, but he was sure he would get to work it eventually. As far as he could tell, Diana had no other employees, so he guessed some of the menial labor would fall to him. He didn't really mind, considering the place needed some fixing up. Sure, he was slob, but he still hated to see a bar in such poor condition. He been using alcohol, both serving it and drinking it, to run from his past for millenia. While the location and style had changed slightly over the years, he had developed a slight respect for a clean bar. It helped service and service helped him buy more liquor.
He was pleased to find that the broom had a metal handle. He tended to accidentally snap wooden brooms if he got frustrated with something, so having a metal one was nice. He was certain there was machines in the Commons that could sweep floors automatically, but he guessed Diana was just as out of it with technology as him. After all, guns were available for purchase in the Commons, but she chose to use a knife instead.
The rest of the night, only about three hours, was spent with him vigorously cleaning up the place. He swept the glass fragments into a pile and then took them to the trash receptacle. He repeated the process for all the dust and dirt in the room. When he couldn't get it with a broom, he headed back to the closet and grabbed a bucket and a sponge. Typhos tended to be lazy most of the time, but when he worked, he worked. Working was another way to make him forget, and it almost worked as well as alcohol. When it was finally closing time, Typhos headed back over to the bar and sat on a stool.
Diana came around the central pillar, a bottle of whiskey in hand. She grabbed to glasses and placed them between the two of them, pouring them each a glass. Typhos accepted gratefully, downing the drink in one go. He grabbed the bottle and poured himself another glass, downing that one as well.
"You really do know how to drink, don't you?" She asked, a slight smile of amusement pulling at her lips.
"Yeah, well you get good at when it's your main hobby." He said as he poured himself a third glass.
"Well that's something we have in common. Knock yourself out if you want, that's what I tend to do."
Typhos responded by pouring his fourth glass of whiskey and swallowing it. Finally he slowed down, instead opting to ask her a question.
"You know anywhere I could stay? I just moved her and need an apartment."
Diana raised an eyebrow, but chose not to question him, instead giving a solution that he did not expect.
"You can stay upstairs if you want. It's a two person apartment but nobody ever wants to live with me. I don't sleep the best and tend to bumble around."
"Wow...sounds familiar." Typhos said, pouring himself a fifth glass.
"By the way, what's your name? You never told me when you came for the job." She asked.
"Typhos Dillian. Professional day drinker and bartender." Typhos said, the strong whiskey starting to get to him slightly.
"Well, my names Diana Tillen, hopefully you stay at the job more than two weeks."
Typhos froze when he heard her last name. He knew her name. He knew her name all to well. Memories flashed through his mind. A beautiful smile, a calming laughter, a warm hand in his. Cherry blossoms falling around him as he held her in his arms, enjoying a beautiful landscape of stars. Finally, blood on his shaking hands as he stared down at her, broken and helpless. Typhos shoved himself away from the bar, knocking the stool over as he backed away.
"Sorry, I uh, forgot something." He said as he stumbled as fast as he could out of the club.
Outside he turned down the nearest alley, collapsing against the wall as his mind reeled. What were the chances? What were the chances that he would run into one of them here? Tillen. Tillen. Of course, it was possible it wasn't the same name. That had to be it. Same name, different people. It had to be, it had to be. A single tear trailed down his cheek, and he wiped it away. Suddenly, a light went off inside of him, triggered by the name. His briefcase. He glanced around dumbly, expecting to see it by his side. It was gone, he must have left it at the bar when he was arrested. It was probably long gone by now, taken by the Ouroboros or dumped somewhere by Xavier. It had most likely already turned into fuel for the factories, along with its contents. Realizing his loss, Typhos sat there dumbly, staring at the wall across the alley. That briefcase had been his last link to her, his last link to the good part of his past. Well, he thought dully, he guessed that wasn't true now. After all, if his feeling was correct, Diana Tillen had just forged a new one.