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[A Gamer in Gotham]—❈—11:: In Which My Humanity Comes Under Question
🕑 Added 2024-03-14 22:42:18 +0000 UTCWell, it's been a minute, hasn't it?
I need to get better at not letting my life affect my writing.
Enjoy the chapter.
—❈——❈——❈—
Carter holds out a hand.
“This is my wife, Susie Whitfield,” he says, holding onto her as she leans into him. “I’m Carter.”
“Nice to meet you,” I say, shaking his hand.
—❈—
Alert!
You have received a quest!
Quest [Connect with The Whitfields] received!
Make a connection with The Whitfield couple that could help you work your way into their hearts/lives.
Rewards: $150. EXP 150. ?
Accept: Y || N
I've never been particularly fast. Or strong. Or tall, or handsome, or even intelligent, but there's always been one talent I've had that, the older I get, the fewer the people I realize who naturally have it, and that talent is talking.
In most situations where words need to be said, the right ones often just come to me, usually without prompting.
That feeling of being at a loss for words, of not knowing what to say or how to say it, it's largely unfamiliar to me.
Throughout my life, whenever I've kept quiet during an event, it's rarely because I have nothing to say, and more because I understand that staying quiet is the best option at that point.
Simply put, if I had a superpower (before I got an actual superpower at least), it would be my tongue, and my tongue has never failed me.
With my CHARM knocked up to 45, which I doubt it's ever been close to at any point in my life before now, that natural ability I have to always know the words to say to sway people, for good or ill, seems to have amped up to greater degrees. Just like I knew it would be.
It's why I spent thirty points on it after all.
Keisha and I chat with Carter and Susie for only a few minutes, and by the time we go our separate ways, we’ve swapped phone numbers and a promise to be in touch.
Alert!
Quest [Connect with The Whitfields] completed!
Rewards: $150. EXP 150. ?
As we watch the older couple disappear around a bend down the street, Keisha asks; “What exactly is your plan here?”
“Well, first we get ourselves some of those tiny tracking devices they sell, then we ask The Whitfields out to lunch.”
“You're gonna bug ‘em,” Keisha realises.
“Well, actually I was hoping you would; I have the motor control of a drunk baby. But yeah, that's the plan.” I pause. “And right now I'm wondering if I should be flattered that you followed me despite not knowing what it was.”
Keisha shrugs. “Annie trusts you,” she says simply.
“Ah. That makes sense,” I say. “I'm guessing I still have a ways to go with you though?”
“That depends,” Keisha says. “Who are you?”
I frown in confusion at her question, but then I remember, she doesn't know.
Keisha doesn't really know anything about me. To her, I'm a strange guy with too much knowledge and the ability to get prettier on command that's been hanging around her sister since last night.
Well, time to correct that.
“Eugene Berger. Extradimensional alien.” I hold out a hand to shake.
Keisha blinks.
“Extra what? Alien? Like Superman?” she asks in succession.
“Dimensional, yes, and no,” I reply.
“...What?”
I chuckle. “Your questions. Extradimensional, as in outside this dimension; this reality; this universe. And yes, I'm an alien, in the sense that I'm not local to this place, and no, I'm not like Superman… well, I guess I kind of am?” And isn't that a heady thought, to be even remotely comparable to the Man of Steel himself. “But, no, not really. I'm still human at least… I think… maybe… definitely probably.”
Keisha stares at me like she's trying to figure out how much of what I said is bullshit.
Finally, she says; “So, you're an alien from a different universe who's definitely probably like The Blue Boy Scout?”
“Pretty much, yeah. Someone, or something, kidnapped me and dumped me here last night.”
“Who?”
“I have no idea. But, I'm pretty sure I'm stuck here.”
“Can't you phone home?”
“Don't know how. Don't know if I can.” I come to a realization. “Don't know if I even really want to… And don't think I missed the E.T reference.”
Keisha grins at my unimpressed look.
“What happened?” Annie asks, suddenly materializing behind us.
I barely hold in a surprised squeal.
“Why’d you let them go?” Annie continues, looking from me to Keisha and back again.
“We swapped numbers,” I explain. “Keisha and I pretended to be a couple; tomorrow we'll call and set up a double date, and she'll—” I point at my pretend girlfriend “—slip a tracking device in Susie's purse, or something.”
Annie's eyes widen.
I smile. “Not a bad plan, right?”
Annie shakes her head. “No, it's not,” she says. “Thanks.”
“You're welcome.”
We both know we're still in disagreement on just what to do about the arsonist couple, but neither of us clearly want to get into it right now.
Personally, I'm hoping that when her anger has had time to cool in a day or two, she will be less… murdery about the whole thing.
Here's to hoping.
“What about the landlord?” Keisha asks. “How do we get him?”
“The super, Shaun,” Annie says. “He should at least be able to get in touch with someone who can get in touch with the landlord.”
“Let's find Shaun then,” I say.
…
Shaun's dead.
Yep. Fire got him.
This isn't ideal, but it's not exactly a deal breaker either. Even with Shaun dead and no way (known to us) to get in touch with the landlord, we've still made contact with Carter and Susie. That's something. A pretty big something.
The problem though, is that the Carter and Susie plan is not something to be rushed.
At the earliest, Keisha and I can reach out to them tomorrow, and even then odds are good that whatever meet up we set will take a few days to happen, so, for right now, all three of us find ourselves with a lot of time on our hands.
And the problem with having time, is that it gives you time to think. Usually about your problems.
“Where the fuck are we gonna live?” Keisha asks, settling into the seat.
We're back at the diner we had breakfast in, not for more food (though the girls do order coffee), but because we don't have anywhere else to go.
Annie sighs, looking like a puppy left out in the rain as she ponders Keisha's very relevant question.
I'm pondering it myself, after all, I'm just as homeless as they are. And unlike them, they're the only two people I know in this world.
“Maybe we should go back to Hiroshi-sensei’s,” Annie suggests. “You said the rent doesn't expire for a few days, right?”
“Yeah, but what do we do after that?” the younger girl asks. “I don't have a job, and didn't you just scrape up rent last week? You still owe me thirty bucks, by the way.”
“We're keeping score now?” Annie asks snidely.
“Bitch, don't fuck with me,” Keisha says. “I will end you.”
Annie rolls her eyes.
“I could pay the rent,” I say easily, and before Keisha could process my words enough to object, because of course she's going to, I continue; “I need a place to stay too. And you guys are the only people I know in this universe. Literally. Plus, I really only have so much spending money because you and Annie were nice enough to introduce me to Big Ray.” I shrug.
“If you still have a problem with it, we can split the rent three ways, and you can reimburse me for this one when you have the cash.”
My rapid-fire counterarguments to an argument that Keisha hasn't even thought up yet stumps both girls for a few seconds, and I simply sit back, idly observing and [OBSERVE]ing our fellow patrons as I let them marinate in my words for a moment.
My eyes settle on a man, Anthony Chavez, a level. 28 [Detective], who's staring at the cup of coffee before him like he can't see it.
Hmm?
I [OBSERVE] him.
Oh, shit, that's bad. That's real bad. One of probably five honest cops in this city and this is happening to him?
God, this place really is cursed.
Alert!
You have received a quest!
Quest [Save Louisa “Lulu” Chavez] received!
Lulu Chavez is being held hostage by the Viper gang to force her father into destroying evidence that will put their boss away for life.
Do something about it, will you?
Rewards: $15,000. EXP 15,000. ?
Accept: Y || N
Oh, wow, that's a lot of points.
“Eugene? Eugene?”
“Hmm?” I turn to my companions.
“Who's he?” Annie asks of Detective Chavez, having noticed my interest in him.
“That's Detective Anthony Chavez,” I say. “And he needs help.”
—❈——❈——❈—
Thanks for reading.
Love ya.
Comments
thevolunteer
Nice
