"Well, home sweet home, I suppose." I grunt to myself, disembarking from the mag rail train on to the station platform. My neighborhood was one of the older ones in the city, primarily made out of inexpensive, low rise residential housing. The mag rail station was probably the newest building in the vicinity by a large margin, as well as most certainly being the tallest thanks to the elevated track soaring over everything else.

I pause for a moment, taking in the bird's eye view afforded by the platform. The city is completely at peace and my neighborhood more quiet than usual, thanks to almost everyone having gone to work at this hour. A far cry from the absolute chaos and horror that took place at Rutger's last night. Not to mention the existential terror that I personally experienced.

What else was hidden in the shadows of the world? Maus said there were other people "like us". Where could they be? And what would happen to my home once the Purge Cycle gets well and truly underway?

What would happen to Mom and Dad?

"Why did you let me spend the night sleeping in the campus?" I ask Maus, who had gone back to hiding underneath my shirt.

"It seemed the best option." Maus squeaks, the verbal equivalent of a shrug.

"I know this neighborhood might not seem like much," I take in the inoffensive browns and beiges of the buildings around the station, "but my apartment is more comfortable than lounging in the dirt."

"You were in no condition to return home last night, Robert." Maus states plainly, "Trust me on that."

"I suppose." sighing in resignation, I board the escalator heading to street level, enjoying the machine's gentle rocking motion.

Thank heavens my apartment isn't far from the station. I've never wanted to get home so badly, if only to access the shower. Spending the whole night outdoors had left a thin veneer of dirt all over my skin. And my clothes weren't much better off either. Instead of following the main road back to my apartment, I decide to cut through the local park. In the distance, I hear the strings of music floating through the air.

"Huh, the giant violin lady is playing today." I muse to myself, kicking a discarded beer can to the side of the road.

"Giant violin lady?" Maus asks, peeking through my collar.

"Y'know, there's this musical instrument, like a really big violin." I explain with a vague gesture, "Some busker hangs about the park playing it."

"A cello." Maus shakes her head.

"What?" I murmur, following the sound of the music to its source.

"The musical instrument we're hearing right now." Maus explains patiently, "It is a cello, not a violin."

"Same thing."

"Violins and cellos are part of the same family of musical instruments but," Maus says but suddenly stops, "you know what, Robert? I know you don't care all that much and neither do I. So fine, she's the giant violin lady."

"Brilliant. Knew you would see the light." I grin.

"Try getting some culture if you survive this Purge Cycle." Maus snorts, "If there's anything an immortal shouldn't be, its being an ignorant boor."

"So, this ignorant boor has a question for the wise worldly immortal." I stop by the side of the pathway, letting an elderly jogger pass by.

"Ask and I will answer." Maus answers in her most sagacious tone.

"Why are you still here?" I point out in the flattest tone possible.

"What are you getting worked up for, Robert?" Maus laughs, "Afraid that I'll see the hovel you live in?"

"Look, I'm sort of grateful you helped me out last night," I quirk my mouth, "but I'm not the type to invite strange women into my home."

Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

"You do realize that I've been keep track of you, right?" Maus hops out of my shirt to engage with me more directly.

"You did mention that before." I nod slowly.

"And that includes knowing where you live." Maus squarely looks me in the eye, "So there's no need to be embarrassed."

"Uh, fine, but its still super awkward." I scratch the back of my head.

"I'm just messing with you." Maus turns around and begins rat hopping away, "I like the food served by the restaurant opposite your apartment building."

"They serve rodents?" I blurt out in surprise, making a mental note to never eat there ever again.

"I dig through the trash." Maus replies as she disappears into the park's grass, "Which reminds me, I should get going before all the good morsels are taken. See you around, Robert."

"I thought you said we didn't need to eat anymore?" I feel more confused than before.

Silence is the only response I get. Just as I think Maus had disappeared to do her rodent thing, an annoyed voice squeaks at me faintly.

"I can stop whenever I want!"

"Sure you can." I shake my head and continue on my way home, "Sure you can."

At the center of the park is the giant violin lady, seated on her usual bench and playing that cello. She wears a jacket and hoodie that's pulled low over her face, preventing anyone from getting a good look at her features. The cello case lies open on the ground, with a few coins and cash notes scattered inside. Meager pay for someone's who plays almost as good as a professional musician. But what do I know? Like Maus said, I'm not the most cultured guy around town.

Leaning against one of the trees, I decide to take five and listen to today's performance. Giant violin lady's playing a somber, melancholic tune today, the gentle strings of her instrument nearly causing me to sniffle. She's totally into her performance, failing to notice that there's just an audience of one.

Man, busking is a tough line to make a living in, isn't it?

The performance ends and the giant violin lady lowers her head and arms in quiet meditation. I step forward and quietly place some change in the open cello case. Was it just me or did that tune she performed sound almost happy at the end? Pretty weird for something that had such a sorrowful feel.

Death and Rebirth. If you liked the music, please donate generously.

That's what is written on the placard placed by the cello case. The theme for today's performance I suppose? I'm about to ask the giant violin lady about it, before noticing that she's snoring happily away under that hoodie.

"What a weirdo." I grunt without any animosity. Giant violin lady's been in this park ever since my family moved into our apartment. You could say her music has become a part of my life. Some evenings when I'm working out in the park, doing some jogging or pull ups, giant violin lady would be playing away in the background. She's pretty much the neighbor that you always see, never talk to and don't really know about.

I draw out the thin sheaf of faded cash from my wallet and toss it into giant violin lady's cello case. What the hell, if Maus is to be believed, I literally experienced death and rebirth last night. Something as earth shaking as that should count as a special occasion, right? I can take the opportunity to be generous.

I shut the cello case and snap on the locks, wouldn't want any random bum or panhandler stealing the neighborhood busker's hard earned while she's dozing away. A long thread of drool emerges from giant violin lady's mouth, telling me that she's well and truly out of it. An incoherent grumble gurgles from her and I quickly back off, careful not to disturb her sleep.

Getting back on the footpath, I pick up the pace, eager to get back home as soon as possible. The park's close to empty and it doesn't take me long to reach the opposite end where my apartment is located. And smack dab at the exit, parked by the side of the road is a cream colored stretch limo. The vehicle's size alone would make it stand out in this neighborhood, but the gold highlights adorning the limo's frame make it outright ostentatious even by rich guy status. There's even some kind of insignia stenciled on the car's hood.

It takes me a moment to recognize the design and a feeling of dread hits me like a truck.

"Wyvern Security Consultancy. That's their corporate insignia." I curse to myself. What are the guys who attacked Rutger's doing here? There's nothing in this neighborhood that should interest them.

Or is there?

The limo's driver stands outside his vehicle, looking about with a bored expression on his face. He doesn't seem to have noticed me yet, so I duck out of view. Better caution over valor, especially when I don't know what's going on at the moment. The limo's presence might be a coincidence but that's more likely wishful thinking on my part.

Now that the giant violin lady's stopped playing, I can hear someone crying deeper within the park. Since I'm in no mood to try sneaking past the limo driver, I might as well investigate this latest mystery. It doesn't take me long to reach a large tree with a pair of teenagers around my age kneeling at the base. In fact, both teenagers look incredibly familiar.

"Oh, Robbie." Sara sobs while Paul consoles her.

A makeshift shrine has been set up at the base of the tree, comprised of a framed black and white mugshot of myself surrounded by flowers. Paul carries a few packages in his arms which he lays out in front of the mugshot.

"I swear I'll make this right." Paul declares, "So go in peace, Robbie."

Wow. Seriously wow. I honestly don't know what to think about this. I'm literally walking in on my own memorial service.

"Robbie, you were the best friend I ever had!" Sara bawls and blows her nose noisily into her handkerchief.

"Robbie, no matter how long it takes -" Paul clenches his fist in determination.

"Guys, I'm right here." I sigh tiredly.

Both of them turn around slowly, faces as pale as white sheets. And here I thought that I was done with my allotted quota of awkwardness for the day.

"Its good to be back."