"Can you bloody well give it a rest, Brody?!" Alex yelled at the recently named [Illusory Copy] as another broken glass came to scalp him. It was the fourth one since he'd arrived for this particular delivery.

The clone, who was several cool maneuvers ahead of Alex, beamed his perfectly shaped smile, slammed back a glowing drink someone had left on the long bar, gave him a sizzling finger gun, and darted away deeper into the crowd. Alex wouldn't give him the win. No, no, he would not teleport over to end his temporary, excellent existence. Not after the fourth glass.

Ever since he could affect the world, he's been a real pain in the butt.

Instead of getting pinged in the forehead, Alex weaved slightly and kept jogging. The pint glass sailed over the toasty pizza box to shatter against the bare back of a moshing patron. The man didn't notice. Instead, he just kept thrashing his pierced arms to the punk music blasting from the sweating speakers on the tight stage Alex tried to get to.

As it went, the Horseshoe Tavern for his last delivery on a Saturday night wasn't bad. The old bar on Queen Street West had thankfully survived the Apocalypse. He couldn't imagine it ever closing after hosting the likes of Sugar Ray, The Rolling Stones, and even Nickelback before they went crazy and took over a giant section of Nunavut to finally found their cult of worshippers.

The punks in attendance, covered in enchanted tattoos, vicious piercings, and leather, so much leather, were having the time of their lives as they beat each other up and 'danced'. He couldn't actually run through the crowd, but he was moving as quickly and safely as one could through a mosh pit. At least no one threw an elbow his way. The subconscious bubble of moshing kept him safe from the strays, it seemed.

Alex liked the knock off Billy Talent band scream-singing. They were pretty good, even if the two foot tall mohawk on the singer was a bit much. His new Skill, [Feast and Mend], meant his collarbone had healed up fully after a week of gorging himself. His lungs, legs, Skills, and Core let him sprint through his deliveries without breaking a sweat. He was faster than ever, with extra Credits to boot. The past two weeks of work and life had been blissful.

No close encounters with death. No sign of Mr. Mystical to force a reading on him. Sure, the Tax Guild sniffed around, but Gravewhistle and the Gnomes were practically howling every night at how incompetent their investigative abilities were. Personally, Alex thought there was more to their shambling patrols and daily photos of his bedroom window. Britanii? She was…better, kind of. Still, work, dates with Snu, good pay, and fun had been the norm. Life was pretty darn good.

Just this last delivery, and he could call it week. Grab some grub, hang with Mary, sleep in, go see Snu's new project in the morning, and maybe even don a sweater to wrastle Emilio if he wasn't too busy taking over some new part of Toronto. Heck, he might even join Beepy and Zippy on one of their fancy new 'COVERT OPERATIONS,' they wouldn't shut up about. Cursed bracelet? He was sure it would turn up eventually. It just had to be somewhere in Snu's lair, right?

The only issue was [Illusory Copy – Level 3]. Brody, his new name for the clone, much to his apparent delight despite his muteness, seemed to have a ball screwing with Alex. It was incredibly helpful to send an unreasonably athletic copy sprinting ahead to then teleport into. That wasn't the issue.

With the level had come the clone's ability to fully interact with the world. And with the ability came the clone's pension for lobbing things at Alex at any opportunity. Just like the bar stool that was suddenly flying over the crowd and headed to impale him.

"Damnit, Brody!" Alex yelled over the angsty music. He shoved a goth girl into her friend, squawked a sorry, and activated the second part of [Illusory Copy]. The stool crashed to the ground right where he would have been, only to be picked up by a polite punk who took a momentary break from punching air.

Alex traveled through the in-between faster than his neurons could comprehend. His form slammed into place where his [Illusory Copy] had been. It took exactly one second after that for his frontal cortex to catch up, take stock of the situation his clone had placed him in, and then his red polo was grabbed by a pair of giant hands.

"What doing to Jerry?!" The security guard yelled into his face. Alex stared wide-eyed at the giant of a man. He was wearing a little headpiece, a black t-shirt with a skull and white lettering reading out 'SECURITY,' and was soaked head to toe in frothy beer.

Alex looked right, towards his hand that lofted the pizza. He looked left and saw in his hand an empty pint glass he hadn't been holding a moment before. Finally, he looked back towards the security guard. Brody had set him up again.

Fricken Brody splashed him with perfect timing! Just in time for me the zap into him. That little bugger was far too smart for Alex's liking.

Behind the wet behemoth of a man was a red velvet curtain and what he supposed was the location of his delivery customer.

"Ah," Alex began as the man's grip tightened on his shirt. Nina wouldn't like the shirt looking so disheveled. "I got a delivery here for Craig," he shook the pizza box a little to show him the goods. "Broccoli, peppers, salami, extra oregano?"

Thankfully there was still quite a bit of time left for him to make the drop.

The security guard took a cavernous inhale. Even over the screaming lyrics, and the oppressive stank of sweat and beer, the glorious smell of pizza was pulled into his hairy nose. His eyebrows furrowed and his grip on Alex's shirt loosened.

"…Is that--?"

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"Nino's? Yeah. Nino's Pizza!" Alex painted on his best good boy smile.

From behind the velvet curtain, a gruff, cheap voice sounded. "Pizza's here? Let the boy in, damnit! We're hungry! Can't keep the bird waiting."

The guard growled but released Alex all the same. It appeared that, thankfully, he was not about to sock Alex right in the kisser.

Alex gave an awkward little nod, looked at the curtain behind the wall of wet muscle, then held out the pint glass. The guard took it without breaking eye contact with the pizza but didn't budge. Alex opted to twist around the guard and slipped through the curtains.

The music cut back to a muffled thump as the velvet closed behind him, leaving the wet man on the other side. Alex did, however, hear the guard mutter woundedly. "Well, I want a slice. No one ever thinks of Jerry. Jerry likes pizza too…"

Behind the curtain was the green room. Or maybe the relaxing zone for bands. Red couches sagged and were covered in questionably aged stains. A mirrored table was held up by a porcelain jaguar was covered in guitar picks and one very full ashtray stuffed with smoldering cigars. The walls were covered in hundreds of posters from what looked like every band in history.

In the middle sat a man in a messy blue suit with hair jutting out from all angles. On either side lounged punks, presumably the next band up by their matching faces and jackets stappled to their skin, sipping seltzer water out of chilled cans. What was interesting, though, was the bright green parrot perched on blue suit's shoulder.

The bird puffed up its feathers and let out a squawk. "Pizza! Pizza! Pizza!"

"Yes, Craig. Just like you asked," the man in the blue suit answered and began to ask Alex. "Broccoli, onions,--"

"And salami, and extra oregano. Nice and pippin' hot still!" Alex smiled and tried not to choke on the sheer volume of cigar smoke. Upon entering, he thought the man was Craig, but a quick [Investigate], along with the man calling the bird by name, told him otherwise.

[Craig – Party Parrot]

"Pay him! Pay him! Pay him!" Craig the party parrot yelled into the man's ear while doing a little dance.

"Yes, Craig," The man sighed tiredly before waving his hand. "I'll pay him." Alex received his payment and the delivery completion notification.

[Deliver the Pizza to the Customer - Craig - Complete]

[CREDITS: 8901 -> 8951]

Alex supressed a cheer. Seeing his Credits rise higher every single day of work was extremely rewarding. After his overspending a couple weeks ago and coming hat in hand to Mary, he had probably over adjusted, saving every penny and even the Skill Upgrade provided from becoming Nino's and Nina's System Certified Friend.

But maybe a couple fun buys wouldn't break the bank too much…

"Cigar! Cigar! Cigar!" Craig the party parrot parroted loudly into blue suit's ear while the disheveled man took the pizza box from Alex. He squeezed the bridge of his nose before rustling around in his coat pocket. Sitting down, he placed the pizza box onto the mirrored table while pulling out a little cigarillo for Craig.

"Ah! Nice! Nice! Nice!" Craig snatched the tobacco stick with his beak and it lit itself. Alex watched during the awkward few seconds when a customer realized he was waiting for a tip. The bird somehow took a deep inhale and puffed out a couple perfect smoke rings into blue suit's face.

"Well," Alex began to turn back towards the velvet curtain, not that bothered by the lack of tip. "Hope you enjo--"

"Something given! Something given! Something given!" Craig squawked sharply, making Alex turn back in a much better mood. Ending the day on a tip was always welcome. Just a little cherry on top. A little cherry he might be able to use, cultivate with good ol' Terry, or sell for some delicious Credits.

The bird was puffing and dancing on blue suit's shoulder, who was munching away on a slice, not offering any to the punks, or the wet, pizza-loving Jerry who hovered on the other side of the curtain. Craig grooved like a bird with a headrush, tail wiggling and puffed out feathers.

Then, with a little shimmy, a single feather shot from Craig's backside. It was perfectly emerald green and supple as it drifted lazily on the smoky air until it floated in front of Alex's face. Even without touching it, he could feel the tinge of Essence wafting off the Relic.

[Something Given]

"Ain't seen that in a while." blue suit said through a mouthful of pizza.

"Ain't seen that ever," Jerry, peaking just his hopeful face in, said. "Jerry hasn't ever seen something like that. Jerry likes feathers. And pizza." Alex watched as a drop of drool hit the sticky floor from Jerry's mouth.

Alex took the feather and slipped it into his pocket right next to Snu's undies, his Stone Sword, and his GoCoin.

Something Given…that's weird. It's a feather.

"Jerry pizza! Jerry pizza!" Craig barked with his beady bird eyes fixed on the heavy-breathing security guard peaking in.

Jerry's ugly mug split into an adorable smile as he barged in, still dripping, to snatch a slice straight from the box.

"Thank you, boss," the giant man said with dopey sincerity and a voice that made Alex wonder if his skull was mostly bone. He tore into the slice. "Jerry loves pizza."

Blue suit snorted and glanced at the punks, as if trying to make fun of Jerry was hilarious. They took synchronized sips of their seltzer and just glared back.

"Thanks for ordering! And thanks for the tip, Craig!" Alex chirped, already turning for the curtain, eager to get back to Nino's and clock out for the night.

Alex pushed through the moshers, wanting to use a [Phantom Step – Level 4] to speed it up, but the bar was too big, even with the healthy upgrade the Skill had gotten. Phasing into a goth girl or a drunk dude also wasn't the best idea. They had a lot of piercings and buckles, after all. And a whole to prove with all that eyeliner and black clothing.

Finally, he exited the sweaty bar and spotted his handy-dandy espresso machine portal waiting for him off to the side. People stepped around it like it was normal, because in post System Toronto, it was normal.

You didn't just waltz into a random Portal. It could end up somewhere awful, like a cheap all-you-can-eat restaurant that wouldn't let you leave until your belly exploded or you left a good review on MagiMaps, or worse yet, an underground theater group performance where snapping was preferred to clapping, and the only thing to drink was mushroom kombucha and common-denominator snark.

Yeah, no thanks! But I could go for some food…hmmm…wonder what Nina's got for me tonight!

Alex grinned ear to ear as [Blazing Hot] activated from his sprint to the Portal. Even the smoking crowd that prided themselves on being fashionable punk lovers couldn't help but gawk at his flames. Taking one from Brody the clone's book, he tried to look as carefree and athletic as possible. He was pretty sure it even worked.

Maybe I could learn a thing or two from you.

His shift and work week was over. Craig, the party parrot, had even given him a mystery tip. And Alex loved a good mystery tip. Might be worth a fortune, might be worth squadoosh.

As he leapt into the Portal, he heard Craig squawk his final goodbye. How his parrot voice reached through the velvet curtains, the music, the leather, and the haze of beer, he didn't know. But he didn't need to speak bird to understand what the cigar huffing avian was getting at.

"Not tip! Not tip! Not tip! For Nino! For Nino! For Nino!"

The something given feather Relic is for Nino and Nina? Huh…cheap bird, where's my tip? Alex thought as his body fell away into the unspace to the land of the seriously weird.

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