Chapter Text
It’s raining today.
Honest to god rain.
From the time you were from, rain was a rare sight. Rather, rain that wasn’t acidic and polluted by toxins.
Clean rain, on the other hand, was something you’ve never experienced.
A droplet hits you in the eye as you look up, but it doesn’t sting. It was just… water.
Dodging puddles on your way to work was another surprise you were in no way ready for. Even now your shoes feel a little soggy.
The day goes by slowly. Morning and midday were the emptiest it has ever been despite being a weekend. The regulars show their faces, but everyone else seemed happier to stay home and dry.
You’d be doing the same if your paycheck didn’t make or break your housing situation.
That landlord has been upping his rent lately, and a bulging wallet is a luxury you don’t possess.
Maybe you should consider getting a second job? As much as it pains you to admit, those days spent with Hoffnar could be put to better use.
But you can’t bring yourself to do that to him. It’d be like breaking a sacred rite, and also a betrayal to your friendship.
You haven’t seen him much lately. You hope he’s doing alright.
Maybe… you could join the Nexus Core? It’s a thought, and you don’t like the idea of working under that dictator, but what other qualifications do you have? You know guns and you know substance abuse, what else?
The idea is depressing, but you need to be a realist in situations like these.
You’ll probably see Hoffnar more if you join, comes a tempting thought. Your cheeks burn at the realization you’re actually considering it.
Shut up, me.
There is nothing wrong with wanting to see a friend, even if it means joining an objectively evil organization.
Right?
ANYWAYS, back to the present. That mattress salesman came by again with a group of laborers. They seemed to be having a good time.
These walls are looking pretty dull, though. This place could use some decor. Maybe some pennant banners? Or hanging fairy lights? Perhaps the owner will give your input some thought.
Sirens wail from the streets outside, and you catch Nexus Core vans fleeting by. You wonder what they’re dispatched for. Perimeter breach? Petty theft? Defacing of the “god emperor” statue?
Jeez, even saying it in your head makes you cringe.
Whatever it is you’ll never know, and there’s no point in wondering over something so trivial.
You lean down to grab a bottle from beneath the counter. The bell jingles as the bar’s door opens.
Busy rummaging through the whiskeys, you give them a holler, “Welcome! Just give me a minute and I’ll be right with you.”
“It’s imperative you cooperate with the authorities, citizen.”
The vocoded speech gives you pause, cursing to yourself as you realize who it means. You stand up to see three Nexus riot guards at your counter.
Oh wonderful, “Something I can get you, boys?”
That last word may have miffed them a bit since they shove a paper in your face without warning.
“We have a warrant to search the premises for anything that goes against the god emperor’s mandates.”
“What? Why?”
“That is for us to know, now stand aside and let us do our search.” The riot guard sternly awaits your reply.
“But–” On second thought, maybe arguing with the local governing bodies is not such a great idea, “Fine..”
You stand behind the counter with your arms crossed the entire time, waiting for the Nexus guys to finish their search. The cynicist in your brain tells you they’re going to frame you for something just so they have a reason to arrest you, but the logical part wonders if your boss has something to do with it.
You don’t know the guy that well, other than he hired you and the bouncer. He’s already pretty hands-off in the whole business, so it wouldn’t surprise you if he was using the bar for something else.
Were there cartels in Nexus City? That was never relevant info before. There was never a reason to ask but now you’re wondering if you should be cutting your losses and run.
There it is again. Adrenaline, your old friend.
That nervous excitement. The preparation for battle, the calm before the storm. Your trigger finger itches as it looks for a gun that isn’t there. The anticipation is palpable.
God, what you would do to be able to hold one again…
When one of the guards walks up your head practically snaps toward them.
“This place is clear. Continue with your day, citizen.”
“Finally…” you huff.
The riot guard eyes you suspiciously, “You sound eager to see us go.”
“Because you’re scaring away customers. Get going, unless you want one on the rocks.” You shoo them out with the help of Lenny.
“Thanks,” you tell him, and he shoots you a thumbs up.
You take your station behind the counter once more, feeling a bit proud of yourself. At least until you remember there are still five more hours to your shift.
“AGH! How the hell are you so damn good?!” You fume over the gameboard.
Hoffnar clasps his hands together with a chuckle, “I’ve had practice.”
You two were playing a game called “Cheapshot” which, true to its name, involves exploiting weak points in the opposing player’s defense grid while protecting your own. So far it’s been 3-1, with Hoffnar on a winning streak. You suspect he went easy on you the first round and proceeded to decimate you afterward.
Grumpily, you huff and cross your arms, refusing to look another second at his smug face.
Hoffnar laughs before clearing the board, “I think that’s enough games for the both of us.”
The night started with him sending a text asking for your address and the words, “I have a surprise for you.” Ominous in any other setting, but this is Hoffnar we’re talking about.
He showed up with a stack of board games under one arm and a bottle of wine in the other.
You were a little embarrassed at the shabby state of your apartment, but he didn’t seem to mind the dirty clothes and dishes. Your little square dining table was finally getting some use.
Your mouth forms a lopsided grin, “It’s fine. I’m not a very great host…” you say while scratching your head.
He waves it off, “Nonsense! I’m the one who showed up uninvited.”
“So we’re both equally inept?”
“It evens out.”
You both laugh, clinking your wine glasses together.
“Where’d you get the wine anyways?” you ask while swirling the crimson liquid in your glass.
“Oh! It was a birthday gift from my coworker Christoff. I’ve been saving it for a rainy day, and uh… a literal rainy day I guess!” He chuckles at the last part.
You peer at him in interest, “Birthday? When was that?”
Hoffnar blows a puff of air, “Jeez, a while ago, uh… maybe five weeks before you arrived? Oh, and congrats on your first month in Nexus City.”
“What?! It’s been that long already?” You must have gotten lost in the routine once you had a steady schedule.
“Yup! I kept count on my calendar— Uh, a little weird I know, but it’s important to stay on track.” He nervously glances around the room, as if avoiding your judgment.
You give him a simple shrug, “I didn’t even keep up with dates before I got here. It took getting a job to make that happen.”
“Oh? What did you do before getting here? If you don’t mind me asking.”
“Uhh…” How do you answer that? “Oh I used to kill people and take their stuff before getting struck by magic lightning that sent me back in time.” Yeah right.
But he’s looking at you so intently, and you feel obligated to let him in on part of the truth.
“Well I… I used to be in a wandering caravan before we got– I mean, before I got tired of the life and decided to settle down in Nexus City?” Damn it, why did you make it sound like a question? That’s hella sus!
Hoffnar gives you an unreadable look, “Right… Well anyways, sorry to cut our time short but I do have work in the morning.”
You’re a little taken aback, “Oh, okay… See ya, then.”
He collects the board games and gives you a small wave before leaving. You’re still sat at the table with the wine glasses, wondering if you did something wrong.
Does he think you’re untrustworthy? He didn’t seem convinced but then again it was a shit lie. Even a zed would have enough cognitive awareness to pick up on your hesitation.
Feeling stupid, you move to collect the empty wine glasses only to notice the wine bottle still sitting on the table.
Shit, he left it behind. Unintentionally, if you had to guess, but you’d feel like a thief to keep it.
He should still be nearby. You can give it back if you can beat him to the parking lot.
You open the door into the wet walkway, yelling out, “Wait! Hoffnar!”
Clutching the bottle in one hand, you look over the railing to see him at ground level on the sidewalk. Lighting up at the notion of getting to him, you shout down to him.
“Wait up!”
He looks up at the sound of your voice, “Huh?”
“You forgot something! Just hold on.” You start making your way down to him.
Hoffnar lifts his hand, “W-Wait slow down! The stairs are–”
Right as he’s saying this, your shoes glide against the slippery steps and you go tumbling down. Survival reflexes kick in and you instinctively tuck and roll, protecting your neck during the rough descent.
Once you reach the sidewalk, you uncurl and roll your joints. Nothing seems broken or dislocated, but man that’s going to leave a bruise…
Rapid footsteps approach and you look up to see a faceful of Hoffnar in a fretful state.
“Holy crap, are you okay?! Oh what am I saying, of course you’re not! How’s your head? Phew, no head injuries, but your back must be…”
He turns your face this way and that, and you’re still a bit too stunned to do anything about it, “Uhh, what are you…?”
His face is scrunched up in concentration, “Can’t be sure, we should get you to a medic immediately.”
You push him away, “A medic? That’s a bit excessive, it was just a fall, I’ll be fine.”
He looks at you like you’ve grown a second head, “Fine?! You… YOU FELL DOWN A FLIGHT OF STAIRS!!! That is not fine!”
You slowly blink at him. He seems more worried than you about this. It was just a fall, and you’ve had literal shrapnel in your face. This doesn’t compare.
Shaking your head, you get to your feet, “See? I’m good. Now about that… oh…” Your spirits die as you spot the shattered glass and red puddle on the ground. Guilt overrides any pain you felt from before.
“Damn, I…I’m so sorry. You left it behind and was a gift from your friend and I…”
Hoffnar raises a brow, “You’re worried over a bottle when you could possibly be internally bleeding at the moment?”
You’re unsure how to respond, “I…Y-Yes?”
He puts his hands to his face, “What are your PRIORITIES?!?!” he exclaims in disbelief.
You don’t have an answer to yourself either.
He grabs your sleeve and starts pulling you along, “That’s it, we’re going to a doctor.”
“Hoffnar please, I’ll be fine…”
“This is non-negotiable.”
“Should you even be driving? We both had, like, three glasses.”
“I had one, and that should be the least of your worries right now!”
And so that’s how you spent the night at a clinic with Hoffnar during a rainstorm. Honestly, not the worst outcome that could happen, but you both were late to work the next day. Whomp-whomp.