Bromman wanted to get back her baggage before going shopping, to only buy the stuff she didn’t already have, which meant she had to contact Mr Venture. Unfortunately, Bromman didn’t have his private cell number - she had to go through the official channel.
Since Mary didn’t have a cell phone herself, she had to use her mentor’s one. When he double- and triple-checked and recharged his phone to exactly full one hundred percent charge, she found it quite strange. Unfortunately, she soon realised why.
“Welcome to Adolescent Division of the Heroes Department call automation service,” a metallic voice rang out. As if on cue, her SJW started buzzing a little more excitedly. “For German, press one. For French, press two. For…”
“Wait a minute, if someone doesn’t speak English, wouldn’t it made more sense to tell them what to do in their own language?” Mary asked, and earned herself a fifty dollars fine. She managed to dodge the flying paper this time, but the pest still emitted a few suspiciously cheerful bips. The girl groaned, which was definitely worth the extra five bucks it cost her. She put the phone on speaker to let Bromman intervene, just in case.
“... for Armenian, press forty-two. For Egyptian…”
“I’m sure the genius who came up with this system was fluent in at least five of those,” she muttered. Bromman gave her a thumbs-up, and SJW’s buzzing seemed to convey a huge disappointment. She was making progress.
“... for Tolkien Elvish, press one hundred and sixty-two. For Tolkien Dwarvish, press-”
“Ok, not gonna lie, that is a bit impressive.”
“Those two are real languages, actually,” Bromman said. “Tolkien is the name of a universe and was only adopted as a pen name by the hero writing down his adventures.”
“… for Klingon, press two hundred eighty-nine...”
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“ … for Zerrikanian, press two thousand five hundred and four. For Zealj’askgh’agasdkj’, press two thousand five hundred and five.” Finally, the bot paused for a few seconds. “No foreign language was selected. Press zero to keep English. Press one to-”
Mary jabbed at the zero so hard that for a moment, she feared she might have broken something. She sent Bromman a sheepish attempt at a smile in apology.
“Selected English. If you want to rate your service so far, press zero. If you want to continue, press one.” The monotonous voice continued, and she really, really wanted to give the lowest possible rating to whoever designed this monstrosity. Unfortunately, that would probably take a lot of time, too… with a heavy heart, she pressed one. A little more gently, this time.
“Continue selected. For Heroic registration service, select one. For terrorist threats, select two. For-”
Mary banged her head on the table, and the physical pain made her feel a little better. Unfortunately, the noise it made wasn’t particularly quiet...
“I’m sorry, I did not understand that. Please use the numeric selection. Resetting.” The remote torture device announced in that same metallic voice, followed by a piercing sound as if a hundred children scratched a hundred chalk-stained blackboards with their hundreds of unevenly bit nails... in an echo chamber. “Welcome to Adolescent Division of the Heroes Department call automation service. For German, press one…”
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Mary bulged her eyes and looked to Bromman for mercy. He shook his head with a mixture of melancholy and amusement. “But, but…”
“I’m sorry, I did not understand that. Please use the numeric selection. Resetting.”
“AAAAAAAAARGHHHHHHH”
“Bip! Incoherent screaming is considered an expression of lack of belief in the Government, bip! Three hundred dollars penalty, bip!” A sheet of paper actually cut her arm. She hissed and clutched the bleeding appendage. Fortunately, the wound wasn’t deep, and Bromman was already offering her a piece of bandage.
“Get lost already!” She yelled at the perpetrator while unsuccessfully trying to smack it… which cost her a thousand dollars.
“I’m sorry, I did not understand that. Please…”
Mary banged her head on the table again. And again.
“I’m sorry, I did not understand that. Please…”
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Many attempts (and hours) later, she managed to connect to Adam, who offered to drive to the motel she and Bromman were staying at. She wondered whether the drinking age in whatever pandemonium she managed to land herself in was the same as in the normal United States… and how did people her age manage if that was the case. Her arm had almost healed, which was a bit fast, but her head was still annoyed at her for the treatment it received and wasn’t going to let her forget it anytime soon.
It was strange to see Adam’s car arriving next to Bromman’s. They were probably the same model (although Mary couldn’t tell for certain), but while Adam kept his clean and vibrant blue, Bromman’s was painted in a mixture of different shades of grey in a military camo pattern. It was also much dirtier, scratched, and generally worn out. It didn’t affect the actual driving, though, for all she could tell by yesterday’s rides.
Mr Adam Venture came out of the car, and his suit made it that much more obvious this wasn’t a place he belonged in. He didn’t seem to be bothered by it much, though.
“Hello, Mary! How are you doing?” Adam asked cheerfully.
Mindful of the hellish bee hovering above her shoulder and only looked for an opening to sting her with another fine, she answered through slightly gritted teeth, “Fine, thank you. Do you have my bag?”
“Oh, yes, yes, of course. Once again, I’m terribly, terribly sorry for what happened. I’m not myself when I’m late. Oh, and that would be…?” he asked, looking at Bromman’s direction. For some reason, the man kept away, scanning the area for dangers.
“Bromman, he’s my mentor,” Mary answered. “About my bag…?”
“Oh, yes, yes, of course.” Mr Venture went to the trunk and took out her bag, smiling. “I have to tell you, though, that on my way to the tea club, I ran into a Ministry and Magic Standardisation patrol. They noticed the bag and confiscated some things. Nothing much, mind you,” he added hurriedly, as Mary launched herself at the bag to check what went missing.
Her clothes were still there. So was her toothbrush, though she didn’t think she needed it anymore since Bromman wouldn’t take his spare one back. There was a pair of spare shoes, a hairbrush, her red notebook, a pencil and… that was it. Her signed copy of the first Harry Potter book was missing. And so was the hairband from her grandmother.
Mary was on the verge of tears. It was a bit too much. After all the work she put in with that infernal call centre… She felt a heavy hand gently drop on her shoulder and looked up to see Bromman standing beside her. “I think, Mr Venture”, he said quietly, “that it is time for you to leave.”
Adam seemed taken aback, but after barely a second after meeting her mentor’s eyes, he blanched, nodded, and stumbled towards the car without another word.
“Come on, kid,” Bromman said in a much warmer tone. “It’s time to get you some gear before you go off adventuring and stuff.”