3/21/54

ALEXANDER GALDUR

“Thanks for having us over.” Deimos said as he walked off towards our room.

Anna beamed as she waved goodbye, “No problem! Make sure you come over every now and again!”

We gave our final farewells and went our separate ways. Hearing Anna shut the door and lock it, I turned over to Deimos and asked, “So, how did you like it?”

“What?” Deimos questioned, confusion apparent in his voice and face.

“Digimon: how did you like it?” I clarified, slowing down and emphasizing each word.

Despite looking annoyed at my snark, he responded, “It… Wasn’t bad. I guess I liked it.”

Even though I’d done nothing, I felt smug and proud. Increasing the fan count for Digimon is satisfying. It makes me feel less alone.

Snapping myself out of that small depression, I saw a vending machine. I looked at it longingly as he strode past. It was quite near our apartment and filled to the brim with snacks, sweets, and quick meals to grab on the go. Deimos must’ve noticed my staring because of what he said next.

“You want something from there?”

“Yeah,” I responded, remembering why I couldn't just go and get something, “I just don’t have the money for it.”

Deimos came to a sudden halt, turning around to face me, “You don’t have the money to get something from a vending machine? The things in that only cost a couple dollars, and you can’t get those?”

“I wish I could. The stuff in that looks pretty good.” I responded, still staring at the egg salad sandwich.

“I… I knew you weren’t in the best of situations. Hell, I know you aren’t in the best shape, but how much money do you even have on hand?” Deimos questioned.

I thought about it for a moment before answering, shocking Deimos even further.

“About two twenty.” I was lying, of course. It became a habit to lie about the amount of cash I had on hand; in reality, I probably had three seventy-five. It wasn’t a big difference, but it was at least something about me that others didn’t know. Deimos, judging by his reaction, however, would most likely not care about the insignificant difference.

“You need to get a job.”

Taken aback by the statement, I cautioned asking, “Why? This’ll do for now.”

“This’ll do for now!?” Deimos yelled out, clearly not anticipating my answer, “How in the hell have you been living this long?”

I hesitated before answering, deciding that this would probably be inferred sooner or later, and that hiding it would only cause more conflict, “Picking pockets, stealing, you know. That kinda stuff.”

Despite my hesitation, I said it right then and there with no further hesitancy, and the way I didn’t hide it from him left Deimos shocked. Again. He turned around and said, “Okay. While you’re here, I’ll buy you what you need, slash, occasionally, want. If I deem you trustworthy by the end of training, you’ll need to get a job. Your bounties won’t be getting you far with how we’ll be taking most of the cash to pay off your hospital bills, so you’ll need to get a part-time job.”

He continued walking off, but under his breath I could hear him mutter, “Μένω κόκαλο.”

… Either Deimos can speak a foreign language, or I just didn’t hear him right. Either way, unimportant to me.

Following Deimos the rest of the way, we arrived at the room and had some more leftover pizza while flicking through things to watch. After we had each finished our slices—finishing off the pizza—and our salads, Deimos got a call. On his watch. He immediately answered it after taking a piece of the watch off and placing it in his ear.

Muttering answers to unheard questions, he got up and looked at me, “There’s an emergency, and I got a call. I’ll need to head out and take care of this.”

I waved him goodbye as he then rushed off for the door. After he left, I got up and did the dishes. I’m a freeloader, so I should at least try to help out every now and then.

I finished the dishes and set them to dry in the dishrack. Then, I got up, grabbed my cloak, put on my shoes, and left. After closing the door and making sure it was locked, I went to the elevators.

I may not have a key to unlock the door with, but I haven’t needed a key in the past. I kept Deimos in the dark about that, simply because I didn’t think it would help his view of me, but if he was out, that meant I was free. I’ll tell him about how I stole things, but picking locks wasn’t relevant at the moment. Either way, right now, no one was looking after me. No one judging me. I was free.

Are you really?

I picked up the pace, heading for the elevators faster than before. I wasn’t free; as long as I’m in this place, I’ll be a prisoner of sorts. I’m going to head to the city. Even then, I’ll be trapped.

Leaving the large complex, I kept my head down and my back hunched. I made sure to keep to the shadows, someplace dark to keep me out of sight. Let’s see, where is it?

Hmm… Ah, there!

While we made our trips to and from the DME’s main building, this always caught my eyes. A rack of hoverboards. These things were pretty impressive being you only really had to balance and shift your weight around. Through some mixture of manatech, people have managed to create these almost circular boards that float a few inches off the ground. By shifting enough of your weight in one direction, just like in a helicopter or drone, it will head in that direction.

These were quite useful, easy to store as they weren’t that wide or long, and light enough for most anyone to carry them around. Just like scooters or bikes, people set up this system of renting one out for a while and returning it later. I assume they’re tracked somehow, but that didn’t matter to me. I wasn’t planning on heading out for very long nor did I plan to steal one. This time.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

After using the meager amount of money I had, I rented one out and left for the city. I already knew how to ride one; it wasn’t very hard to learn how. In addition, I’ve stolen enough of these to be pretty comfortable with them.

Racing down the bike lane, I made sure to go just over the speed limit. The cops wouldn’t go after a hoverboard going barely over the limit. Wasn’t worth the effort.

I arrived after a pleasant couple of minutes of riding, and from there, I traveled along at a pleasant, leisurely pace.

I really just came here to get a breath of fresh air. Also maybe grabbing some change from some random person. While I didn’t necessarily need to, I wanted to have some cash on hand. I might up my bank account from my about three dollars to a whole five bucks! It wouldn’t take very long; I just needed to scout out the place and steal some whatever I scouted.

Turning into an alley, I turned off the lights of my hoverboard and put it under my arm and into my largest and deepest pocket. Again, the hoverboard isn’t that big, and—again—the pockets in this cloak are absurdly large. Now that that’s handled, let’s scout the place out.

Delving deeper into the poorly illuminated light of the alleys, I felt a sense of nostalgia fill me. Mmm, feels like home.

Ignoring my strange comfort in the darkened passages of the concrete jungle, I ventured even further in. Leaking pipes, broken guardrails, the greedy eyes of the extremely impoverished surrounded me. I was once part of these people, and now here I was, walking through the dark and dingy in—my opinion—disturbingly priced clothing. Of course, no one could see my clothing because of my cloak. My cloak is the best.

After walking down familiar routes, I came across a familiar food truck. I couldn’t quite place my finger on what was familiar about it, just that it was familiar. Before pondering why it felt familiar, I checked out the area around the truck. Empty, no one inside, no one outside; it appeared that the truck, while still in the middle of its business, was taking a short rest. Perfect.

After trying to think back on why it felt familiar, I gave up and just put on my gloves. I bent down in front of the door and started picking the lock with practiced proficiency. With a slide and click, the door was unlocked, and I sneakily entered the truck.

Slinking through the darkness, I saw the familiar scene of the truck. A grill to the left of the door, turned off, obviously. Bottles of condiments lay on a counter next to the grill. Taking a deep breath of the air, the grease-mixed gases went into my nose, and the smell of burgers and sausages made me start salivating.

Knocking myself from my momentary daze, I checked out the cash register that was to the right of the door. Sneaking up to it, I managed to open the thing. I quickly grabbed all the cash in there, stuffing it into my pockets. Then, the deep, gruff voice of the presumed owner of the truck shouted out, “Wha’ in da hell!? Who ‘re ya!?”

Twisting around as I’m still pocketing money, I see a large, obese man. Standing at around 6’2”, he was wearing a stained apron, dirty chef’s hat, and a plain t-shirt with gray sweatpants. The man had a plump, pink, bent nose. He had wrinkles that suggested that for most of his life, he frowned and put up an angry expression.

Kinda like right now.

Under that cliché hat of his, there was light brown wispy hair, clearly starting to thin due to age. His eyes were a vibrant dark green. Well, that was either their natural color, or it might be because he was so angry that his magic was starting to get ready. It might be because we recognized each other from not too long ago.

“You’re tha’ kid who stole fr’m me! Couldn’ help yerself to m’re, could ya!” He slurred, spraying some spittle as he wasn’t taking the time to talk properly.

Let’s see, how do you respond to this? Oh, I got it!

“Heeeeey, long time no see, yeah?”

He seemed to only get angrier at that. I think I can see a blood vessel on his head. Kinda hard to make out topography wise with all the wrinkles, even harder color wise as his entire face was flushed with rage.

“Dis time ‘m not gon’a let ya g’t away!” He yelled, his glowing, green palms already facing me.

Remembering what happened in the alleys, I dove to dodge, feeling the wooden spikes graze my leg. Hitting the ground without a hint of grace, I hurried back to my feet. My lockpick jabbed me in the stomach and ouch!

The man continued to try and skewer me. This guy is insane! He is trying to kill me! Plus, look at how he’s just firing off magic all willy nilly. I may have taken his money, but he went straight to murder, killing, and second degree homicide galore.

Scrambling for safety, I decided that if he was going to play with magic, then so would I. Sticking my hand out and letting the magic flow through me, I watched my palm glow a radiant white. Of course, that was soon barely noticeable with how the luminescent ball made him look away.

He tried to block out the light with his hands, but I wasn’t done. With a cascade of magic on my side to get this done quickly, I filled the light up with more magic. I was making another flashbang, not too powerful mind you, just enough to cover my escape—or at least help my escape.

The large man’s eyes were still open, only scrunched up a little, and he was facing another direction, but with the reflective pieces of metal, glass, and plastic, he still felt the flash. With a storm of cusses, he shouted out his pain. Taking advantage of the reprieve of the onslaught of attacks, I escaped out of the food truck.

Sprinting down the dark and dank alleys, I heard the fall of footsteps behind me. The chef was giving chase just like before. The thing was, I don’t think he had the capability of catching up to me. From what I’ve seen, he wasn’t the fastest, nor was he athletic, so I don’t really think I have much to worry about.

Slowing down, I went from a near-sprint to skulking my way through the darker areas of the alleys. I weaved my way through the shade, keeping myself aware in case the chef did choose to follow me. Right as I was starting to think I might be safe, I heard rumbling. Looking down, small stones on the ground shook a little, the earth vibrating from something.

Listening to my instincts, I took a turn to the right and hopped into a dumpster. The smell of rotting food and other assorted vomit-inducing materials mixed with the sweet smell of the trash bags created a truly unpleasant environment. That wasn’t to mention the slimy dampness soaking into my pants from whatever the hell I was kneeling on. It didn’t matter because I felt that it was the right move.

I was proven right.

The chef was striding along growing wood, the plants racing to catch up to his feet as they began to fall. If it weren’t for his magic, he would’ve been walking normally, but the wood really propelled him down the alley at an incredible pace.

What the fuck? Who is this guy!? Why the hell is he throwing around magic without a care in the world!? Why was he dead set on finding me!? Well, it didn’t matter; it was a contest of if he could find me and if I could hide from him. I would win. I already had.

He was already a long way away from me now, and I was watching the stilts he made disintegrate into nothingness once he was done with them. Not wanting to give him the time to realize that I had opted to hide instead of run, I crawled out of my filthy spot and began to slink away.

I broke into a light jog, making sure to have my feet fall in places where they wouldn’t make a lot of noise. I got onto the main road and pulled out the hoverboard. While zipping down the bicycle lane, I noticed the expressions that the passersby were making in response to the rancid smell wafting off me.

When I got back, I’d be needing a shower. Thankfully, I believe I should have the time to have a short one before Deimos got back. I wasn’t gone for too long, and if he was called out on an emergency, then this should take him a while.

After a pretty uneventful ride back, followed by putting the hoverboard back and picking the mechanical lock under the digital one for Deimos’s dorm, I arrived back in the safety of my new home. One shower later, one greeting of a roughed up Deimos, and I was hopping into bed after we wasted the day away doing whatever peaked our fancy—mostly watching Netflix or whatever they had on normal tv.

Hello, sweet, sweet sleep.