“Fuck!” I shouted, the hard cobblestone of Garland Market making itself known to my spine in all the wrong ways. I didn’t stay down long, however, since that would have been some kind of fucking stupid.

“Oi!” An elderly prick called from the window I’d just dived out of. “Get that little rat! Little fucker stole me wife’s pendant!”

In my defense, they really should have locked the second story window if they didn’t want me coming into their house, but that’s not terribly important. I scrambled to my feet and made a mad dash to get myself out of the danger zone and into my usual safehouse since it was usually a twenty minute trip by foot, but I cut it down to less than half that time by not giving two shits about the people I shoved out of my way whenever I needed them to move. I’d lie and say I didn't dive for wallets while I did it, but that’s just ridiculous.

I kept up my light sprint until I hit my safehouse; an old, abandoned Catholic church. I found it hilarious that I’d sinned multiple times in the house of God by using bible pages as tissues and by shagging the odd tart who wasn’t all there in the head. That might say something about the company I keep, but it’s not like I’ve ever been a goody-two-shoes type anyway. As I stowed my bounties in my usual hidey hole, I took a few minutes to sit and relax since the bullshit job had gone exactly as I expected it to. None of my old crew, the Stealy Wheelies, could have ever even hoped to get as far as I did with as few permanent injuries as I managed to get away with. Sometimes being the best is hard. No one in their right fucking mind asks for a daylight stroll, but that’s what my client wanted. I thought it’d be worth the hundred quid bonus, though something about it just rubbed me the wrong way.

Without much else to do, I checked my shitty little flip phone and saw that sunset probably wasn’t too far away. I was supposed to take the pendant my client wanted to him at midnight, so I figured that I’d go for a walk and see what all I could see. I was pretty sure that the Grisham Boys never actually ever got more than twenty feet away from the Rubber Dutchman during my usual active hours, and old Sketchy Sammy was probably weaving another string of information into her network of contacts. I considered calling Micheal, my old watchdog, to go and grab a few drinks, but I really just wanted a few shots of rum to honor my brother and a few glasses of bourbon to make me miss him a little less.

I sighed and got my ass into gear before I could start reminiscing for too much, but when I got back into town, I decided to just head over to my usual liquor shoppe instead of heading to the pub. Rum tends to be more expensive than bourbon in Wiltshire, so I only bought a couple of double shot bottles of the stuff while I got a fifth of some cheap, effective bourbon. The taste wasn’t the best, but the burn was rough and I tend to like my shit strong enough to add more hair to your chest. Donnie, the clerk, promised to take the extra bottle of rum I’d bought to Maxwell’s grave since I didn’t know where it was. I should’ve known, and I still should, but I never could bring myself to say goodbye to the only real family I remember having.

My day was some kind of fucked as I strolled around the alleys, ducking into the odd alcove or just leaning against a wall for a little bit to help me feel a little better. It’s only been a couple of years since I lost my brother, but it’s almost been a decade since my parents (Not Max’s. We’re not related by the waters of the womb) and I still can’t bring myself to mourn those fools. I still kept my father’s wedding band and wore it on a leather cord around my neck since my old man had some mastodonian hands, and I still have the black ribbon my egg-donor gave me before she croaked. The ribbon was more of a tool for her than an accessory, but when you’re a junkie, I guess anything that does the trick does just that.

I tied my hair back with the ribbon and got out of the alleys since the Sun was lowering rapidly, which is when you tend to get rolled. I might not be the biggest fellow out there seeing as how I barely managed to get to a hundred and seventy-seven centimeters, which I think would be around five-eight or five-seven in Imperial measurements. It’s not like I don’t know them, it’s just that the metric system is the best system, goddammit! It doesn’t help that I barely weigh sixty-five kilos on a day where I’ve been choking down whatever I could get my hands on at one of the buffets in town.

I had to cut through a few more alleys to get to the west side of town again, and once I got to my safehouse, I cracked open my bottle of bourbon and got my buzz on for a few hours until my client was due message me on the burner that I made all of my clients go through. My flip phone might have been basic as fuck, but it got the job done, and smartphones generally aren’t worth the extra money anyway unless you’re using one to get slaws on Snapchat, Instagram, or whatever other piece of social media that the hoi polloi can spend their time on. Speaking of time, when the day rolled over and two a.m. passed by, I called it a night and retired to the dilapidated office that still kept some of its insulation over the years. I had a hammock in there, a few solar powered lanterns that I charged in the mornings, and more solar batteries that you could shake a stick at. With the night ready to be ended, I tossed another blanket into my hammock since it was pretty cold, and it’s not like I had anywhere else to go or anything.

… I don’t know what the Hell I’m doing. I guess this is where I should just add a page break or something and pick up with the bullshit yesterday held… Then again, I should probably write about who I actually am, just in case I lose my mind or some shit. To make it plain, the name’s Gadai. Kaid Gadai. Stirred, not shaken. Just for the record. I’ve always been on the slim side, despite me trying to put on some weight so I don’t get fucked with nearly as often. Shit’s just not meant to be, but I can try, right? Let’s see… Well, if you haven't guessed by now, amnesiac Kaid, then let me write down that I’m a thief. It’s my job. I file taxes on the shit I steal. No kidding.

Okay, I was kidding. I’m actually so far down on the totem pole that I’m practically invisible. If I was stone-cold or a slitter type instead of a plucker, I’d be a force to be reckoned with, but I’m not really all that into hurting people for money. Vindication? Cool. Personal affront? Go for it. Someone’s paying to have Average Joe killed because he didn’t pay back a debt? Nah, I’m all kinds of good on that. Gotta go fuck someone up for playing it by the book? Nope, no can do. I might be a guttersnipe, but I’m a guttersnipe with morals. No killing, no rolling, no thuggery. I was content with my place as a thief, and with the thousands of pounds I had saved up in my bank, I was well on my way to getting back into school so I could stop being complacent with being homeless, jobless, and most days, friendless.

To be honest, I don’t care where I lay my head, but I want a real job with a steady wage and I’d like to have a few buddies to hang out with that wouldn’t try to pass me powder or roll me, both of which are commonplace in my little slice of Heaven. No, I preferred to keep to myself most days unless I was on the hunt for a nice girl with a nicer arse, but that’s neither here nor there at this point.

Okay, that reads pretty well to me. I mean, I think it’d jumpstart my memory, if nothing else so far would have. Hopefully the normal parts of this don’t remind me too much of the crazy bullshit going on when I go back over it.

I woke up the next morning and grabbed a change of clothes before heading to the shelter so I could catch a quick shower, though Doris, one of the women who stay and work at the shelter for a living to keep off the streets, tried to get me to stay again. I know that the woman has the best intentions at heart, but Doris only blew into town a two, maybe two and a half years ago. Back when my egg-donor died seven years ago, I came to the shelter first because I didn’t have anywhere else to go. I almost got raped twice in one day by two different adults who knew they’d get away with it, but when your own mother burns ice and starts trying to kill you in fits of psychosis, you tend to get good at giving people the slip. It never hurt that I’ve always been light on my feet, and it’s probably a bad thing, but paranoia has kept me alive so far. Those two things got me out of the shelter in the middle of the afternoon, and when the second creep came after me, it got me out at three in the morning. Ever since then I’ve refused to go back for more than necessary hygiene or a bite to eat at night.

Once I was good to get my day started, I left the shelter and hoped that a client would come by and have a word since I was wearing a green shirt, which meant that I was looking for work. It’s something that a lot of thieves do, wearing solid green shirts, that is. My favourite jacket wasn’t green, but it was too cold to go without it, so I had to hope that the thirty quid in my wallet would last until I could get a decent mark. I mean, I had three hundred pounds and some change at the church, though I generally try to save what I get from picking pockets for emergencies.

I got lost in thought for a little while as I walked, but the impact from something or other smashing into my elbow made me hiss and jolt away. “Oi! You fucking wanker piece a’ shit!” I whirled around and saw Officer Oscar, one of the sleaziest fucks around town.

Oscar gave me a grin and hit his palm with his billy-club a couple times as he chuckled like the cock he was. Fat bastard. “‘Ello ‘ello, Klepto Kaid. Knew I had me the right orphan when I saw that jacket a’ yours.”

I glared at him. “You forget to call or something?”

“Is it in the drop spot?” Oscar asked quietly.

“Yeah, it’s all kosher. Pay me.” I demanded.

“Ah, ah, ah! I can’t pay a criminal!” Oscar guffawed like he’d cracked the best of jokes.

“Pay me or I tell Graham about that eight year-old.” I said, my no-bullshit tone making m pissy client shut the fuck up.

Oscar grabbed his wallet and paid me four hundred quid. “Just takin’ the piss with ya, bruv. You know how it is.” He chuckled nervously, his pedophile mustache suiting him perfectly.

I gave her a bored look. “You were gonna stiff me and stick me. You know damn well that I have more dirt on the force than just about every other person in Wiltshire other than Sketchy Sam, so keep that in mind. The only reason we even do business is because it’s profitable.”

Oscar glowered at me. “Hands together. You’re under arrest, tosser.”

I gave him a dull look. “These power trips are super cute, babe.”

His face flushed and is third or fourth chin started wobbling like mad. “Shut up ya dozey git! We got shit to do!”

I let him fasten the handcuffs just like he did the last time, and yet again he made them tight enough to suck. “As much as I’m loving the cuffs, can we get a fuzzy blue set later?” I asked cheekily.

Oscar clubbed my back, but what he didn’t realize was that my favourite pair of boots were steel toes. One swift bicycle kick to the crotch later and I was waiting for Oscar’s face to turn from bright red back to a ruddy pinkish shade. “Fuckin’ little cock-swallowing cunt!” He mewled.

“Hit me again, Oscar. Fuckin’ test my patience.” I snarled.

He picked himself up off the ground. “That was a dirty move ya filthy animal!”

“You’re twice my size, and that’s an understatement you lard-blooded lout.” I replied flippantly, the sum of my respect for authority on the table then and there.

Oscar didn’t say shit since I started walking without him. Fat fuck needed the exercise any way since he couldn’t fit in the Rozzer Rollers anymore. Hell, the only reason that his morbid obesity hadn’t gotten him fired was because he had dirt on Graham. Shit was the only reason, and I made sure to remind Slop Suckler that the only things he was actually allowed to do was pick on the pluckers and taunt the cutthroats. I knew for a fact that Oscar’s days were numbered since he’d fucked up and made Slick Sagiano so pissed off that he cried because he was just that pissed. Slick’s not exactly dangerous, but his brother? Whole different story, and I was willing to bet that Oscar’s family was going to go missing too. It might sound cold of me to dismiss the death of his kids and poor hamplanet wife, but it wasn’t my problem. You don’t fuck with someone else’s business in Wiltshire unless you’re their partner. That’s it. You can let family handle your business, or you can let your crew do it, but you can’t let an associate or an acquaintance do much. That, and I hate Oscar. Guy’s a piece of shit, and like I said; his shit ain’t my fuckin’ problem.

We made it to the Cop-Shop without either of us getting hit again, and by the time Oscar got me sat down for ten minutes I was going to have to stay there for. There was a bald, mid-twenties looking White guy with SS tattoos, the odd swastika scrawled here and there, and a picture of a caucasian fist clutching a globe. He was the only guy present while I was there, so I decided to have a little fun.

“Oi, mate, what they get you for? “I asked conversationally.

The skinhead held up his hands, coated in dried blood. “Some darkie’s mutt kept shitting in my yard, so I skinned the fuckin’ mongrol in front of that N-”

“Oh no, fuckboy. You need to get the fuck over your superiority complex before you catch some BBC. Oh wait, that’s what all you Neo-Nazis like, right? Thick, meaty, black cock in your arse, right? I mean, with how much you little kids like to piss and measure how far you can get the stream to go, it wouldn’t surprise me if you were just tired of losing the dick-measuring contest.” I gave her a smile.

El Skinny nodded for a few seconds. “I’m about to break your face when I get outta here.”

“Swallow a load from your bull, twink. Keep yourself well fed and your hair might grow back.”

“Aight bruv, I’m killin’ you.”

“Catch me if you can, mutant. Your very genetics are so weak that they can be overruled by just about any different trait, you brown-eyed failure. You’re not even Aryan, mate! You’re a bastard Nazi!” I laughed my arse off as El Skinny struggled against the chains keeping him in place, trying to get to me. After he started getting especially belligerent, a couple of rozzers collected him and stuck him in the drunk tank so they didn’t have to hear him.

When my ten minutes were up and Oscar hadn't returned to collect me, an Indian fellow who smelled like curry (Surprise surprise) was seated where the skinhead had been. At least he smelled better than the odiferous Neo Nazi. That guy had his own place were he could bathe; I just assumed that Neo Nazis were incapable of functioning at full capacity since most of the ones I’d met were some special kind of spastic. I mean, you’ve got to be some kind of stupid to hate millions of people of the actions of a few, and you’ve got to be an actual retard to be racist without ever having met someone darker than a Nabisco cracker. I say that you lose the mental handicap when you come to your senses and realize that it’s literally impossible for a race to all act the same, have the same tastes, or perform the same actions. However, Curry Guy made me want to be racist.

“‘Ello Gov-nah!” He said in one of the thickest Indian accents I’d ever heard.

I gave him a look. “When’s the last time you actually heard a Brit say that shit, mate?”

“Pip pip, cheerio!” He gave me a shit-eating grin.

I returned it. “Where’s your mother, buddy? Got any sisters left in your open-street-shitting piss-pot hellhole godforsaken land of the damned? I bet they’re getting raped right now and there’s not a thing you can do about it because you’re here with me.”

Curry Guy shut his fucking mouth.

“That’s what I thought, Dasa.”

“... Do not call an Indian that word, my friend.”

“You’re the first to give me a reason to, mate. I think we ought to let there be silence.” I replied calmly.

“Silence is good.” Curry Guy said, sounding somewhat pissed. Not enough to bring out his magic rice and curry powder, but he was still salty.

Thirty more minutes passed as I fucked around in general, making faces at people, hitting on male cops, asking for measurements from the lady ones, and generally just making an ass of myself. I had a few cops stop by and ask me how I was doing and I gave them the same amount of respect they gave me, so it usually turned out okay. I knew a few of the younger cops from school and a few of the older ones from my childhood, so the Wiltshire Constabulary knew me pretty well. Still haven't had a charge stick, though.

While I was talking to Rooney, an older fellow that transferred in from Amesbury because his wife wanted to move closer to her parents, Oscar waddled his way over to us, and it was easy to see the contempt in Rooney’s eyes when he knew Oscar wasn’t looking. For as much as the Scot pretends to be a Brit, he’s Fat Bastard, and I know for a fact that the nickname isn’t limited to just the underground affairs in Wiltshire. RMS (Rapist Molester Shitstain) Titanic hit an invisible iceberg and stopped long enough to unchain my cuffs from the bench so he could lead me to a place that was not the great outdoors.

“Oi!” I whispered fiercely. “We’re going the wrong way, Oscar!”

He gave me a crooked, snaggletoothed smirk. “Didn’t know ya went stone cold, Kaid. Glad to know I just brought in a serial killer.”

The blood drained from my face. “Aww fuck.” I breathed. “... I’m going to enjoy reading about you a week from now, Oscar. It’ll be a pleasure.”

Lardarse snorted. “Being nice won’t keep ya from this one, Kaid. Ya done screwed the pooch real good.”

“You know when you put it out there that you snagged a plucker for being a slitter, you’re going to get killed in front of our family, right? Savage still rules Wiltshire from Gollum, Fat Bastard. You’ve just stuck your foot in the grave.”

Oscar scoffed hard, but he was sweating bullets, and it wasn’t from the warmth of the room. “What? So you’re suddenly one a’ Savage’s boys?”

I gave him a look. “Savage still calls to hire me because I’m one of the best pluckers in the South, mate. I might be his gofer, but I’m damn good at what I do and he values Human Capital. You already know that he has Graham in his pocket, so…” I chuckled. “You’re a little fucked, mate.”

Oscar backhanded me in front of three of his fellow officers. “Fuckin’ oi! Oscar you fuckin’ worthless sack of cholestoral! That’s way the fuck outta line!” Roared Deputy Constable Lucille Wright. I bit back a smile because I knew that Lady Lucille had the clout to drop Oscar then and there, but then she said, “You know what? You’re fuckin’ done here! Badge, belt, baton. Now.”

It was so tasty to see Oscar’s face fall, and it was made even better by the fact that D.C.
Lucille was known for being a teetotaling, devout Christian with a sense of justice stronger than Earth’s gravitational pull. She was one of the good ones, which is why Oscar said, “L-Lucille! You gotta be takin’ the piss! This guy done massacred six a’ the most upstandin’-”

“Like a plucker is about to turn stone-cold, you fuckin’ spaz! That kid’s dodged charges like they were fuckin’ snails with battleaxes! I’ll prove that you set this little dumbarse up one way or another if you’re not dead before then.” She spat. “Now get your shit and give. It. To. Me. Do you need me to repeat it again? Have all of those chips and crisps you never stop eating lodged into your tiny fuckin’ brain?” Lucille growled.

Oscar was a special kind of salt ridden, living the Salt Life as he begrudgingly gave up the tools he’d been carrying for years. All over one little slip up in front of the wrong woman. Kek. When the Deputy had his shit, she passed it off to one of her subordinates. “Get those back to the Kit Cage, Williams. Cooper, escort shithead out. Kaid... “ She narrowed her eyes at me. “Are you a plucker or a slitter?”

“Hypothetically speaking, if we’re just talking about what I could actually deal with, then I’d have to be a plucker, Deputy. I don’t have the heart to kill someone on purpose.” I answered truthfully.

She nodded. “Wilin’ to take a polygraph on that one?”

“Yes Sir.” I responded dutifully.

“Do I look like a man to you, kid?” Lucille snarled.

“No Ma’am.”

“Do I sound like a proper fuckin’ lady to you?”

“... I know you won’t hit me for saying something stupid, but I’m not willing to risk it.” I said carefully.

She patted my cheek patronizingly and smirked at me. “Getting smarter by the day. Hopefully you’ll wisen up and get on the right side of the law one day.”

I couldn’t help but chuckle at her. “Sir slash Ma’am, mix those together, but anyway, I’m saving up so I can go to college so I can go do something with the life I got. Hypothetically speaking, if I were a plucker, then I could imagine myself getting tired of the lifestyle before I hit eighteen.”

Lucille shook her head. “You gonna tell me where your parents have been the past seven years?”

“Away.” I answered.

“You realize you can trust the cop who just fired the guy who’s been blackmailing you and beating you, right?” She asked irritably.

I glanced around us, and we had a few wandering eyes. “Deputy, I’m paranoid. You could always have eavesdroppers,” I paused for a second, “so if you want to talk, we can head to one of the interrogation rooms.” I ended quietly. “I owe you one, so you get three questions. I’ll answer them honestly as long as you’re not trying to honeypot me into a confession for a crime I didn’t commit.”

“I want two questions and a small favour.” She bargained.

“Three questions.”

“I can always leave you in a cell for a couple of days since you’re being charged.” She deadpanned.

“What was your first question again?”

She snorted in amusement and had me lead the way to one of the luxurious suites with cement walls, rigid chairs, and frigid a frigid table. I took the seat furthest from the door because I was pretty sure that I was supposed to. “Oi, do I need to chain you down for this?” She asked once I was seated.

“Nah, you’d kick my arse to Glasgow if I tried some shite. It’s not worth the broken bones.” I said, adequately conveying my feelings.

“Cheh,” It’s the noise she made, I swear, “keep that in mind. First question; who the blood fuck gave birth to you?”

I frowned. “Babs Grace and Kincaid Gadai.”

She nodded. “I remember Babel. We went to school together.”

“She must have been a real treat.” I spat bitterly.

Lucille levelled a lethal look at me for a moment before heading out of the room. She came back in seconds later, slamming the door behind her. “Your mother was the one who took my first time. If I could find her, I’d break the damn rules for that.”

My lip curled. “At least she was the only one in line.”

The Deputy sucked air in through her teeth. “I want to know where she is.”

“Since we have a common enemy, I’ll let that one work. My egg-donor died seven years ago. HIV turned to full blown AIDS that she got from sharing needles.”

“Was it slow?” Lucille asked, her voice unreadable.

I couldn’t help the little smile that formed on my face. “Second question right there, and Dep? It took her ten months to rot away. The last three weeks were fuckin’ great. Gangrene, staff, a few STDs and STI’s that she got from whoring herself out when I got good at bisecting cocks and ruining wombs, and the best part of the whole thing was when I gave her krokodil.”

Lucille cracked a little smile herself. “What’s that one?”

I felt like being nice since we were bonding. “It’s a heroin substitute. I managed to get my hands on some through means I’ll not disclose and told her it was heroin. The look of her face when she realized what I did? What I got all of those slimy junkie cock-sucking fucks with? Lucille, I can’t tell you how much I treasure that memory. It’s so incredibly wrong to hate the person who gave me life, but it was so good.”

“This stays between us, kiddo.” She said with grim satisfaction. “I can’t prove anythin’ anyway, but I can say that it takes somethin’ to get you to that point.”

I nodded. “I’ve yet to be pushed to that point a second time.”

“So you don’t think you killed your mother?”

I gave Lucille the dirtiest look I had. “Babs wasn’t a mother, and she was knocking on death’s door anyway. She was an egg-donor and happened to be the biggest piece of shit I’ve ever seen to date. Hell, Oscar is better than that whore.”

“Right. So what happened to your father?”

“He’s away.” I answered.

She rolled her eyes. “So we’re back to that bullshit?”

I shrugged. “You bartered for two questions and I gave you five.”

“Tch. And here I thought we shared a common enemy.”

“We do, it’s just that our common enemy is dead and I’m about to get lynched for some shit I don’t know about. What am I even being charged with right now?”

“Six counts of premeditated homicide.” Lucille said bluntly.

“... Fuck me.” I groaned. “Why the Hell would I kill six people? Actually, why the Hell am I a suspect in the first place? I don’t even live in town!”

Lucille gave me a flinty look. “We both know it’s a setup, kid. You got too much monotone postage on every dirty rozzer one way or another, and I’m willing to bet that’s why you’ve never had a charge stick.”

I raised a brow. “I’ve never had a charge stick because I’m an innocent kinda guy.”

“You’re fulla shi-” The door to the interrogation room was flung open with force and in strode the Chief himself; Alexander Graham.

Lucille snapped to attention. “Sir!”

Chief Graham gave her a passing glance. “You can leave now, Deputy.”

“Sir, I-”

“That was a pleasant dismissal. The next one has you checking alleys solo.” He said, his tone sub-zero.

Lucille gave me one last look and gave me the up-nod, but I couldn't return it since Graham was glaring at me. “... So… I’m pretty sure I’m being framed.” I said awkwardly.

“No shit, Sherlock.” Graham smirked. “It’s about time Oscar did something useful. Having him make you do a daylight run was priceless when it came to getting a warrant for your arrest.”

I inhaled slowly and let it out slowly. “I’ve never fucked with Fuzz, Chief. What’s this about?”

“Tying up a loose end is all.” He replied ominously. “Dr. Svikari. Your presence is needed.”

I gave Graham an odd look before a rail thin, rat faced man in a tacky Mod-Scene suit strolled in with a metallic looking briefcase. I got the fuck out of my chair and set into my ‘Flight’ stance rather than the ‘Fight’ one, but Graham, being over two meters tall and about eight stone heavier than me, just stood in front of the door while Rat Face opened up the briefcase, diverting his attention just long enough for me to make Flight fight. I figured I was probably about to die anyway, so I didn’t see the harm in adding a manslaughter charge to the set-up. I dove across the table and tackle the skinny fucker to the floor before jamming my thumbs into his eyes with intent to maim, my opposable digits perfect for the task of removing sight from the equation. I put all the weight I could behind my attempt at getting some semblance of vengeance for myself and succeeded handily. Heh. Handily.

Sadly. I didn’t get off of the screaming mimi before I felt a needle get jammed into my neck like I was a fucking pincushion, and whatever the fuck was in the syringe burned as it went it and felt like it was roasting me from the inside out. Rat Face and I screamed together for a little until Graham threw me off of him and into the table. I took a nasty knock to the noggin, which voided my utility payments immediately, so to speak. Either way, the lights were out.

I don’t know how long I was out, but I do know that my day was shit tier. It was officially worse than using Dedede in Smash Four, and it was looking like it was devolving rapidly into a fucking Magikarp worthy pile of whatever animal poo happens to be smelliest. My head was killing me, my spine felt stiffer than a fourteen year-old at the Playboy Mansion, and it hurt to look at the dank, morbid place I was inhabiting for the time being. The dim light overhead told me that there was no fucking way that I was still in the police station, and looking around the room made me want to not look at anything. Fear caressed my heart with its nails, leaving slight gouges in the soft flesh that made my chest hurt and my breathing quicken exponentially. I started hyperventilating when I thought of the wall of sexual objects and I knew I recognized one of those toys as a urethral probe. There was already a stockade, open and ready to receive its next victim. Panic mode was fully engaged and rational thought flew out of the window for a brief second as I considered biting my tongue off to save myself some pain and humiliation, but when I tried to open my mouth, I couldn’t. I couldn’t even wriggle around, and it wasn’t because of the multitude of straps holding me down.

I busied myself with looking at the ceiling, counting the tiles over and over again, praying to a God that I’d long since given up hope on, but Graham still strolled through the entrance to the room. He had the metal briefcase that Rat Face had placed on the table in the interrogation room, and yes I did over explain that just so I could rhyme. Deal with it. Graham smiled at me for a long time. I don’t know how long since there was no way of telling time in the room, and much to my dismay, Graham stopped standing in one place and went to go open the case on a table before lifting a syringe from its walls. The bastard had to be thirty centimeters long overall, and half of it was all needle. The glowing, swirling, silver and golden liquid inside of the syringe defied the laws of fluid dynamics which I’m not really familiar with to be fair, but when you’ve got the two liquids settling into vertical, horizontal, and diagonal lines. The fluids also crisscrossed and formed jagged, sharp looking shapes all in the span of fifteen or so seconds. That means everything I just described, not just the latter.

“Kaid, we have a problem. You see, Dr. Svrikari might be a blind fool, literally now, but he practiced his craft well. You just stole the eyes from one of the most brilliant minds on the face of the planet, but that’s not where our problem lies. No: you broke one of my toys. Svrikari was one of my favourite pieces to play and now we have to hope that he can have a transplant, which means you’re all mine and mine alone…” Graham chuckled darkly and approached me, but I was unable to move. “This little experiment is more important than you could ever know, and if you live through it, you’ll be the first man to… Well, if this works, then it just means you’ll be mine for a little bit longer than you bargained for.” He chuckled again and unbuckled the belt on his trousers.

Alexander Graham held the needle high and pressed the tip into my chest, slowly driving the tip of the needle deeper and deeper into me until he hit my heart, but I couldn’t scream. I couldn’t stop the tears, or even spit at the bastard when he started filling my heart with his weird, scientifico-magicka bullshit. It hurt more than the sedative going in, and… It… It got a lot worse. It got so much worse… I can handle it. If I keep saying it, it’ll be true. I don’t want to talk about what Graham did to me after he emptied the syringe. I don’t want to remember, but I can still feel the ache in my orifices, still feel the ways he peeled my-

Shit. No. I don’t want to write it down… It… It just never happened, okay?

I woke up in pain with my mind reeling and my mouth tasting like bile, but I was happy with where I was from the first inhalation. I was face down in moist dirt, all of my limbs were attached to me, and the pain was fading quickly as I rose, pushing myself up off of the ground so I could take stock of the memories I was repressing. They were being swallowed nicely along with all the others, and when I took a look around to see where the fuck I was, I realized that I was hot. That was more than a little weird because it had been winter when I last checked, and we were still going strong if memory serves me correctly. However, in the subtropical forest I found myself in, there was no sign of winter or her children. There were no tell tale signs of life either, so I got to my feet, checked myself one last time, and found that I was wearing my jacket again, my favourite pair of denim trousers, my boots were back along with my dirk and throwing knives, and I was wearing a blue shirt that I’d gotten rid of years ago because it had gotten too raggedy. Somehow it was now in decent condition, which told me that I wasn’t in Kansas anymore, Toto.

Being a streetrat, first and foremost, meant that I had no survival skills like, at all. Thus, my first course of action was to head toward the sound of rushing water because I figured that it might lead me somewhere worth going. It wasn’t a long walk since the river
(I’d thought it was a stream at the time) was nearby, so I made my way over, and the first thing that surprised me was how… Well, I don’t know how to say that the water smelled like bottled water. It smelled pure and clean, like it was made to be consumed straight from the source, but I know far too well what’s in the Thames since I’ve seen a few body dumps while on a stroll, so I just had to deal with my thirst since there was nothing I could do about it.

Then a fucking massive, giant, enormous Goddamn river serpent just popped the fuck up out of the water like Leviathan and towered over me a toothy grin. I didn’t lose control of my bladder, but I may or may not had pooted a little bit in surprise. It’s not every day that a thirty meter long snake thing just rises out of the water you were thinking about drinking, dysentery be damned. The serpent rose from the water with a stretch of its tiny arms, which I assumed were vestigial since he was a fucking snakey snake.

“Ah goood mo~rning!” The twinkiest of twink voices called out to me.

I was pretty sure that it was coming from the thing in from of me. I didn’t know how to respond, so I said, “Wotcher, mate. Good morning to you too.”

The serpent tilted its head down and looked at me with something in its eyes that I’d just seen from Graham. Lust. “Well aren’t you just a cutie! Tell me, cutie pie; what’s a sweet little hairless ape like you doing running around near my river, hm?”

“Uh… Looking for a way to the closest town?” I tried anxiously, hoping that I wasn’t about to get turned into an onahole.

“Oh dear! That would have to be Ponyville, which you can find by following the river, dear monkey. Tell me, what’s your name?” The serpent batted it’s scaly eyelids at me like it was supposed to have eyelashes.

“... Name’s Max. Maximus, to be exact, but most people just call me Max.” I answered, stealing my brother’s name and mixing it with my favourite dead language. It just seemed like the right thing at the time since I didn’t want the thing knowing my real name. The thought didn’t seem like a wise idea.

“Maximus you say? What a wonderful name! Why, my own name, Stephen Magnet, seems to pale in comparison!”

“Yours sounds better to me, oddly enough. Want to trade?” I joked uneasily.

The same-sexual super serpent laughed in the most stereotypically annoying way. “If only we could! Tell me, little cutie, would you mind doing me a favour?”

“... Depends on what it is-” I hesitated to call him ‘mate’ again, just in case he thought I was coming onto him, so I just cut myself off.

Stephen beamed with his not really all that scary teeth. “I was just hoping that you could deliver a present to a friend of mine. Of course, I’d be willing to do you a favour in turn, like getting you to Ponyville.” He wiggled his brows. “Ah? Ah? Does that sound like a good trade?”

I didn’t know what the fuck or where the fuck Ponyville was supposed to be, but it sounded kind of American, though I assumed that because Magnet sounded American. “Sure. I’ll do my best to hold up my end of the bargain. Never let it be said that K- Maximus doesn’t do his part.”

Magnet gave me a dirty look. “Were you about to say something else there, little monkey?

“Do you know what ‘Kid Wonder’ means?” I asked, covering my tracks.

“Ah, I do! So you’re a bit of a braggart, are you?” Fagnet- Magnet’s skepticism was cast aside like the shell of a hardboiled reptilian egg.

“A little bit. What do you want me to deliver, Stephen Magnet?”

“One moment, please.” He dove underneath the water like I wished that I could and
came back up with a shitty golden crown. I could tell that it wasn’t pure just by looking at it, and the construction was kinda sub par. The gold alone was the only thing valuable about it; not the styling. “This is a gift for my dear friend, Miss Rarity of the Carousel Boutique. If you would be so kind as to take this to her for me, then I would greatly appreciate it.”

“Consider it done. It nothing else, I’ll consider it payment for not eating me.” I chuckled nervously.

Stephen rolled his eyes hard. “Do you even know how bad red meat is for my scales? I wouldn’t eat you if you paid me to, cutie pie.

I breathed a sigh of relief and had myself a little chuckle up until I got swept off of my feet and got thrown through the air for a second or two which sound a lot like ‘Shitting fuck!’, but then I landed softly onto Magnet’s head.

“Skittish, aren’t we?” He commented cheerfully.

“Oi! That was terrifying you oversized skink!” I protested, making my voice sound more playful that scared.

I thought I did terribly, but Magnet bought it. “Ah, oh well. I’m sure you’ll enjoy the ride as long as I don’t drop you.”

And Stephen Magnet did not drop me, not even when we got to the edge of the forest after a couple of hours. We’d chatted about our lives for a little bit, but it’s not like it was terribly educational. “Thanks for the lift, bruv. I really appreciate it, but can you tell me where I am? Like, I’m pretty sure I’ve lost my mind and I’m just gonna roll with it, but where am I?”

Stephen let me hop off of his head before answering. “Why, just outside of Ponyville in the lovely country of Equestria! You’re not too far from Sadelle, Cloppings, or if you’re truly lost, you can take the train from Ponyville and get to Canterlot. The junction at Canterlot can take you back home, wherever that may be.”

“... I’ve never heard of any of those shitty horse puns, bruv.” I said slowly.

Magnet tilted his colossal head and made a questioning noise. “You’ve never even heard of them? Where are you from, new little friend?”

I took a moment to be thunderstruck. “... I’m from a planet called Earth or Terra.”

“Earthorterra?”

“The names are separate, and I need a lie down for a spell.” I sat down on the riverbank numbly, crossing my legs and folding my hands.

Magnet came a little closer. “Are you okay, Max?”

“... I will be. I will be.” I said, the first loud enough for Magnet, the second one to console myself.

“... I’m terribly sorry to say that I don’t know how to help you my friend. If you truly aren’t from Equus, then I can only hope that you find your place once more.”

“Thanks, bruv. I’ll figure something out.” I said, my resolve firming up as my generally adaptable nature slapped my arse cheeks at the same time to put some pep in my step. “I’m not about to let this shit get to me, so I gotta take it in stride, right? One foot in front of the other until I make it to where I wanna go!” I ended by laying on the ground so I could kip up.

“That’s the spirit, Maximus! Onward and upward!” Magnet cheered.

“Oi, thanks for the help again, Magnet. I’ll have to see if I can be friends with your Rarity so we can come back and visit sometime.”

“Oh, I’m sure she’ll be happy to add another friend to her circle! Really, if you do meet Rarity, you’ll have to have her introduce you to her friends. They’re all perfectly cute for being feminine, but the important part is that they’re generally pleasant.”

“Are they all tarts?”

“Does that mean fillies or mares?”

“... Mate. Please tell me that those girls kinda sorta look like me.”

Stephen gave me an odd look. “If you’d hurry up, you’d be able to see for yourself.”

“Right. Just head towards the town over there, right?” I asked, pointing at the distant, surprisingly vibrant place. It looked like it would take a fair amount of time to get there.

“Yep! Oh, and before you go, do remember to stay out of the Everfree from now on. Miss Rarity will take you to our usual meeting place, so don’t feel obligated to make the hazardous trek just to see little old me.”

“I’ll be sure to ask about it. I’ll be seeing you, bruv.”

“What does that mean? Bruv, that is.”

“Ah, it’s shorthand for ‘Brother’ or ‘Bro’, but it’s more of a British or an English thing. Mate means ‘Friend’, though it’s usually for guys.”

“Oh. What does tart mean?”

“It’s usually a word for a pretty girl.”

“Ah. I don’t believe I’ve heard the term ‘girl’ used for a female before.”

“I’m sure you haven’t heard ‘boy’ for a male yet then.” I sighed.

“Onward and upward my friend.” Stephen repeated comfortingly.

I gave him a lopsided grin. “Damn straight, bruv. Keep calm and carry on like a wayward son.”

“That’s an inside joke, no?”

“Yeah, kinda. It’s going to suck now that all of my references are meaningless.” I grumbled irritably. “Bullshit new planet.” I shuddered for a second before I got a grip. “Anyway, it was a pleasure to meet you, tall, dark, and friendly. If I can, I’ll have to see if we can get you drunk.”

“Drunk?”

I grinned at him deviously. “You’ll see. It’ll be a great time.”

He gave me another smile. “If you say so.”

With that, I was off. There weren’t many trees blocking my view of the town, but it was still pretty far away, so I figured that I might as well lengthen my strides a bit as I tend to do when I want to get somewhere fast and not appear like I’m trying. I was making some pretty good headway and broke the treeline after picking up a nice walking stick that was definitely hardwood, but was surprisingly light for being random deadfall. It was a good stick, if my stick judging skills are anything to go by. I don’t know a damn thing about wood other than the fact that you can make shit with it, so take my opinion with a tablespoon of salt under an ice cube.

When I got out of the actual woods instead of the pseudo-jungle that I’d previously occupied, I scoped out the town with a frown on my face. I already missed the greys and earth tones that covered Wiltshire and most of the surrounding towns just from looking at the horribly colourful place. The town looked like it had been doused in Rainbow Brite’s diarrhea or like a Leprechaun made the place his permanent home ender the rainbow and sapped the colour from the natural phenomenon. Yes, rainbows are literally just light reflecting off of water and dust in the air, but the Aurora Borealis has been explained too and the shit’s still cool to look at.

While I was taking in the slight hills and generally flat environment, I wondered where in the bloodiest of fucks I’d just ended up, even though Magnet had told me exactly where I was. I shook my head to clear it since I was hearing this shrill whistling noise that I assumed was cognitive dissonance, but then I turned my head to the right and just barely saw a light blue blur before it slammed into me.