Dungeons & Deliveries - A Post Apocalypse Comedy Adventure [Book 1 Complete]

Down a hidden alley off Cumberland that you had to be a local to know about, Alex followed Mary and the bots. The walls were covered in enchanted graffiti with tags Alex recognized. Anser, a famous graffiti artist, had a stylized single line graffiti face that winked at him. Spud's blocky name in purple sloshed dried paint. Alex saw an orange neon sign above a black metal door read "Ralph's" just a little ways up. It was the kind of alley that couples snuck into after overpriced cocktails, and where one of the doorways led to a Drug den for the affluent. A goth with double pupils in each eye pushed past Alex with a bulging bag full of black leather belts. Who needed that many belts? Mary just shoved into the door and stepped into Ralph's.

Alex followed. He'd never been inside before. He knew that it was supposed to be the coolest and oldest thrift store in Toronto. When he walked in, the first thing he noticed was the smell. Nice incense, old cologne, and spicy oils filled his nose. The music played funk off a record player from somewhere hidden. The racks stretched upwards and clothes dangled two stories high from levitating chains. Every surface was organized chaos of chunky silver rings, Skillbound denim, vintage band and cartoon tees, and shoes. Alex wouldn't buy used shoes. Even he had standards.

Hot people milled about and shopped. The kind of attractive and hip that made Alex feel distinctly out of place and wish he'd put on a double layer of deodorant. They glanced at him from the corner of their eyes, and he hoped his red converse, ripped black jeans, and black t-shirt didn't stand out too much. They had septum piercings, and tattoos that moved, some even had gills or horns as body mods. Beepy beeped nervously but seemed to splendor at all the clothing. The little robot was tugging on Alex's leg and trying to pull him forward.

Very post-apocalyptic chic. We're just buying pants. You got this.

Alex whispered to Mary, "Are we cool enough to be in here?"

"I am. But Ralph will help sort through the heap. Don't worry." Mary responded as Zippy landed on her shoulder.

Before Alex could awkwardly start sorting through the band t-shirts, the air popped. Out from behind a rack of denim appeared an old, but thin man in a simple gray suit. He wore glasses indoors, always. His long, greasy gray hair was slicked back and somehow looked like it smelled good and had natural volume. A pocket square with rubber duckies on it fluttered from his chest.

"Mary!" the man said with wide arms. His voice was smooth, deep, and warm. "I feel a shift and knew you'd be here," the tall, well dressed man who must be Ralph hugged Mary. "Someone new? You must be Alex."

"How did you?--"

"Please. Buns that good don't walk into my store without me knowing." Ralph's vintage Raybirds slid themself up and he gave Alex a wink before they fell again. "Come, come. Let's get you dressed in something dangerous. Or is it tasteful? Hmm.." Ralph tapped his chin thoughtfully, looked down at Beepy on the floor, then seemed to make a decision. "Follow me. Bring the robot."

Mary smiled. "Me and Zippy are gonna check out the jackets. Take his advice. And Beepy's."

Beepy beeped proudly and adjusted his tiny red sweater before whirring after Ralph with alarming speed. Alex followed and passed by a rack of band shirts so vintage his eyes popped out of his skull. Sleep Token, Green Day, Bowling for Soup, Sum 41. Lady Gaga, even Cher and Abba! Was that MCR? A Meatloaf Bat Out of Hell tour shirt stretched across a mannequin with chain arms and a stitched mouth. He had to [Investigate] that one. As soon as he saw the price that Ralph had set, his stomach dropped.

[Meatloaf Shirt - 750 Credits]

Ralph called over his shoulder as he made his way toward the men's pants section. "Yeah. Meatloaf's expensive. You should see Phil Collins. And Aerosmith? Pfft. Ever since Steven Tyler did that thing, the market's totally done for."

"What thing?"

Ralph just ignored the question as they arrived at the men's pants section, which was somehow taller than the shirt rack. Pants floated high above and the whole area smelled like leather and tobacco. Ralph rolled up his suited sleeves and his arms extended. Physically extended, stretching upward like long, fabric encased noodles.

"Let's see.." Ralph muttered. "Subtly sexy? No. Tasteful and classy. Hmm." He turned back to Alex and pointed with an index finger that had become a foot long. "Buns like that need room to breathe if you're going to keep running." A pair of sleek and clean pants soared off the wrack and landed onto Beepy with a fwump. The robot beeped in joy as he got out from under of the garment and held it tight in his lego hand. Alex was extremely uncomfortable with how much Ralph seemed to know about him. He knew that he had arrived in the store, and he knew that Alex was going to be running. He decided to ask.

"Are you…a Lich?" Alex asked before he could stop himself.

Ralph's neck turned and he smiled at Alex with extremely white teeth. "Everyone in the scene is talking about Nina and Nino these days," His glasses rose by themselves again and Ralph winked. "But, I will never confirm nor deny anything that would ruin the mystique. There are rules to these things, Alex."

"Rules?"

Ralph ignored the question and was back to muttering to himself about stretch fits. Pair after pair piled around Beepy, who was trying to push them into a pile.

"Well, that's enough," Ralph declared. He snapped his fingers and after a pop, a cigarello appeared in his mouth and lit itself. He took a drag, and exhaled a stream of silver smoke that smelled like expensive cologne. "Alright, let's try these on. Come, come." Ralph's arms shrunk back to normal size and he strolled toward a row of velvet curtain fitting rooms at the back of the store.

Beepy tried his best to shove the pile of pants forward but strained against the weight. "I got it," Alex said before bending down to scoop most of the pants into his arms. Beepy beeped in protest, but Alex let him keep a single pair. The robot whirred proudly and zoomed toward the change rooms with the pants hoisted as high as he could but also dragging on the floor. One of the cute girls with antlers and a choker gave Alex a smile and a nod as he passed. He tried not to trip over his own feet.

Alex stepped into the fitting room area and immediately felt out of place. Thin, fashionable people laughed while they slipped into clothing and chatted about fit and looks. A guy with giant spacers tested out an ascot through them. Everyone seemed to know how to pose, and how to be cool. Alex tugged at his shirt and tried to shrink. Ralph somehow materialized beside him again, crossed his arms, puffed on his cigarello, and nodded toward an empty room, "Own it. Clothes can be a power, too." Beepy agreed and pointed towards the curtain. Alex sighed and ducked in.

Queue the pant montage…

He tried on stretch-fit slacks that hugged the worst parts and [Investigated] them. [Little Black Pants - 250 Credits], then swapped into khaki pants that were too breezy for his taste [Digital Nomad Trousers - 180 Credits], and then corduroy. They actually felt pretty good. [Black Corduroys - 220 Credits]. He tried on a pair and made his legs disappear and Ralph called them 'refined rogue flare'. They were way too tight, and felt painted on. Each time he stepped out, Beepy shot out a little holographic number on the floor for his score between 0 and 10 . The black corduroys got a 9.8 and Beepy even tried to clap his hands together.

Stolen novel; please report.

Around pant number seven or eight, Alex caught a look of himself in the mirror and didn't hate what he saw. His legs looked longer and his butt actually had a nice shape. He could do this one. He could be a person that wore pants that didn't have holes in them on purpose. He and Beepy and Ralph narrowed it down to two pairs. The Little Black Pants, which were good for his day-to-day. And the Black Corduroys that would be good for his date with Snu. Each one was over two hundred Credits. His gut told him that he could only get one, because they were so expensive.

God, I hate being broke.

He considered both pairs in his hands outside of the changing room while Beepy was being complimented for his "refined taste," by Ralph. Alex was getting pretty good at reading the bot's emotions and it looked like Beepy might fall over from the pride. He turned back to the pants. They both felt like different versions of himself. One was functional and good for work and the other was good for his confidence. Two hundred Credits each though?

"Which one?" he said to himself.

Mary appeared from behind a rack with Zippy. "You know you can afford both, right?"

"Wait–what?" The idea hadn't even come to him.

"You've got a real job now. You're not totally broke. You're making more money this week before rent's due… Alex. You're employed and have some money." Alex looked down at the pants in each hand. They had no holes, and were well made.

"I can actually afford both," he said like it was a revelation. "Holy crap. I'm going to buy two pairs of pants without holes."

Ralph finished complimenting Beepy and smiled at Alex. "Ascending through the ranks of style, then. Both are good choices. Little bit of function, little bit of style, lotta bit of breathing room for the buns."

Alex was still stunned. "I'll take both!"

Beepy let out a whoop and spun in a circle, the unchosen pants forgotten. Alex followed Mary and Ralph to the front while he clutched his new pairs like they might vanish if he let go. Ralph and Mary chatted about something to do with 'robots and denim," but Alex didn't hear them. He was grinning like an idiot to himself.

I'm going to buy two pairs of pants. Good ones. Pants without holes. I can afford things. Kind of. Wow. Money is so cool.

At the register, Alex waved his hand over the Essence pay pad. Ralph winked as he handed over the heavy paper bag with RALPH'S printed across the front. "Say hi to Nina and Nino for me," he said like it was a joke.

[Credits: 1618 -> 1198]

Before Alex could respond to ask more questions to Ralph, Mary was tugging him out the door. "Food time! You promised. C'mon! Bye Ralph!"

Alex followed Mary through the alley in a haze and hugged the bag to his chest like a treasure. He didn't even register anything Mary was even saying as she led him down the street toward a little local Shawarma restaurant tucked tightly between a candle store and another candle store. Toronto had never felt so full of promise, pants, and spending decisions. Alex came too out of his happiness just in time to catch the shop's name of "WRAPTURE".

The shop was packed, with most of the tables full with people wolfing down wraps and overflowing shawarma plates. But Alex barely noticed them as the wave of delicious smells hit him. It smelled like perfectly spiced meat, garlic, char, and history. His stomach growled angrily. The Carrot Cardinal Core was still making everything in his insides feel weird, both full and settling. But he realized that he was absolutely starving for some food. And this shop smelled like it would be a good one.

WRAPTURE was a cheesy Toronto shawarma shop. The lightbulbs were shaped like onions and tomatoes and suspended above red tables. This one was different as there was a giant rotating spit of meat that hissed behind the counter, dripping juices onto metal traps. A chubby, sleepy dragon that was about the size of a bulldog lounged on a brass pipe next to the meat and breathed little flames to perfectly char and cook the meat. Alex set his jaw. He was ready to devour some shawarma.

Behind the counter, an old woman with a cybernetic arm nodded at the pair as they approached the counter. "Combo plate? Wrap? Drink?" she barked before he could even look at the menu.

"Uh–combo plate?" he tried.

"Drink?"

"Fresca?"

"No Fresca. Orangina?"

"What's Orang–"

"Sauce?"

"Wait, what's Ora–?"

"Sauce! White? Hot?"

"I don't kn–?"

"COMBO PLATE! ORANGINA! EXTRA WHITE! EXTRA HOT!" she roared at her son, who was frantically tossing wraps onto plates like he was defusing bombs.

Alex blinked. "Wait, what about my—"

"NEXT!" she slammed the Essence pay pad into his chest. Alex just paid the 30 Credits and stumbled down the line. Mary stepped up behind him, and to Alex's horror, the woman smiled at her.

[Credits: 1198 -> 1168]

"Hi sweetheart! What'll it be?"

Mary ordered as Alex stared at the magnificent, glistening meat being freshly carved by the old woman's son. The man looked tired, and wore a white tank top, but he did have knife skills and zero time for nonsense. He sliced through the rotating spit, and chicken and lamb tumbled atop fluffy orange rice. The man added crisp lettuce, sharp red onions, and crunchy pickled turnips. Then he lifted two massive squeeze bottles, one white and one red, and doused Alex's plate completely. The white sauce poured out in ribbons and looked garlicky and cool. The red sauce was a zigzag of spice. The man gave it a little shake of fresh parsley and Alex heard him whisper "BAM,". In twenty seconds flat, Alex's combo plate was placed on top of the counter for him to take.

The man wrapped Mary's order next like an origami master, and dropped it with a strange green glass bottle next to Alex's plate. It was frosted, shaped vaguely like an orange, and labeled in curly script with "Orangina," on it. Alex grumbled a 'thank you' and followed Mary to an open table. The second he sat, he just dug in without any hesitation.

The first bite nearly broke him. The meat was still smoking from the dragon fire and was charred just right. The crispy edges gave way to buttery soft lamb and chicken that dripped in its own fat and flavour. The orange rice was fragrant and pillowy, soaking up the juices and binding every bite. Then came the white sauce. Every single shop said they had the best white sauce, and Alex admitted this one was fantastic. It was thick, tangy with lemon and heavy on the garlic. The hot sauce hit a second later on his lips then his cheeks. It was a perfect mouthful. Alex closed his eyes and let the taste explode across his mouth. It was a good shawarma plate, and a staple of Toronto food. Cheapish, filling, and made with love and anger.

He swallowed another amazing bite, leaned back, and cracked open the frosty Orangina. The bottle hissed and he took a long sip. It was cold, sweet, citrusy magic. It fizzled across his tongue and whisked away the heat like a Skill, leaving only a little whisper of spice behind.

"Ugh," he groaned. "This is…good shawarma."

Mary snorted and bit into her giant wrap. A little red sauce streaked her cheek. "So," she said while talking around a mouthful. "Are we gonna plan this bracelet planting…or are we winging it?"

Alex was already shoveling another forkful into his mouth. "You're still in? You sure? We could get into some serious shit." Mary had agreed that morning, but Alex wanted to double check. On the surface, he was awkward, and not the 'heroic," type. But you didn't survive the mean streets by being a total pushover. Alex just got his revenge in different ways.

"Yeah, fuck 'em," Mary said while chewing. She then leaned forward and whispered. "Those Krusher's are assholes, anyways. Hitting one of their Clan Halls with a curse? Sounds like fun. We don't know what the bracelet will do…buuuuuuuut," she shrugged and onion flew out of her wrap. "It was a tip. How bad could the curse really be?"

"Yeah, that makes sense…," Alex scooped more wonderful food into his mouth. "How bad could the curse really be?"