William stared into the duplicated face looking back at him from within the cracked mirror. He appeared, at least to himself, to be average in at least most ways.

He wore square glasses, with thin rims, obscuring the blue eyes that hid behind them. His hair was long but parted to one side so it wouldn't obscure his already poor vision. Possessed of an angular, narrow face, he wasn't exactly attractive, doubly so when he smiled and revealed teeth that looked at first glance to be too big for his mouth.

That was fine, he rarely had reason to smile anyway so it hardly ever came up. Today was no different. In fact, he was fairly certain he hadn't smiled since he had coffee with his sister, the pair having reconnected after he had been kicked out of his childhood home. The memory of his religious parents tossing him onto the street with little more than the clothes on his back was a painful one but the thought of his always caring sibling finding him later in life made it feel not quite as bad.

He was awake early, or at least early for William, for although it was one in the afternoon he had only gotten home at six that morning after a nearly thirteen-hour shift. He needed to shower, but no matter how long it ran, he had yet to see any plume of steam billow from the top of the shower curtain. With a sigh, he turned around, took a step forward, and stuck his hand through the flap and the wall, testing the water.

“Shit,” he cursed, recoiling his arm. “Still cold.”

For a moment he stood there, contemplating whether or not he even really needed a shower. Then he caught a whiff of himself, and with a resigned sigh, chose to drop the towel around his waist.

“This is gonna suck,” he muttered to himself.

Wincing prematurely, he jumped into the cold water and hastily began cleaning himself as best and as fast as he was able. In only a few short minutes he emerged, shivering but smelling nice. Or at least he assumed he smelled nice, as he at least for the moment, couldn't smell anything.

“My nose probably froze solid,” William thought aloud.

Making his way back into the only other room in the apartment, he stopped at the toaster and plucked the waffles that were waiting for him. Still warm, he stuck one in his mouth before sitting on the edge of his bed, hands resting on his computer keyboard. As he chewed, he maneuvered over to his bank account, desperate to find the one thing that brought him joy in his usual day-to-day.

A grin came to his face as he saw all those zeroes appear, the man barely able to contain the joy he felt well in his chest. He may not have a nice apartment or really much of anything, but he had done it, well he had almost done it. Only two short paycheques and he’d have enough to pay for a bachelor of sociology degree and not only that but three years in campus housing. He’d have to figure out what happened for that final year but William was certain he’d have that figured out by then. After all, he had three whole years to work it out. Plenty of time.

His mood buoyed, he swallowed hard.

“Right,” he murmured. “Let's get moving.”

“Stupid jerk,” William muttered to himself as he wiped the dirty pond water that had been splashed all over his side. “Don't drive so close to the curb.”

Spitting bitter curses under his breath, the man stumbled past another bleary-eyed worker. The pair barely acknowledged one another, with William heading straight for the first and only employee bathroom. Once secure in the small, coffin-like room, he shed his backpack, tucked away his shirt, and donned his uniform.

“Freaking great,” he murmured. “It's wet.”

Shouldering the gross feeling, he put his clothes away, stuffed his bag into the too-small locker he had assigned to him, and headed out. He barely managed to get past the dish pit when a scowling German man with a single eyebrow moved to block his path.

“William, you are late,” he stated, his voice firm yet as high pitch as a thirteen-year-old girl yet to go through puberty.

“By only two min-”

“And your uniform is dirty,” the man proclaimed, plucking the shoulder of William’s shirt and scowling. “That is two demerits. Do you acknowledge this?”

“Yes Klaus,” William muttered.

“Good. Now join Roger on registers and stay there until it's closed. Got it?” Klaus snapped.

“Yes sir,” William all but whispered.

“Excellent now-” he stiffened suddenly and glared at someone behind William. “Brittany? What did I tell you about putting plastic in the dishwasher?”

William instinctively tucked himself against the metal exterior of the walk-in freezer and just in time too, as Klaus brushed past him, heedless to the other workers clinging against the walls. Eager to escape the oddly effeminate, yet towering German manager, William jogged through the cramped kitchen, past the back window, and up to the front.

Already things were swamped, with what little waiting area they had been completely occupied by several long lines. There was a split second where he steeled himself, and prepared to get to work, only for even this small moment to be stolen from him.

“Fuck this, I’m on break,” spat the wide-shouldered, olive-skinned man only six months William’s senior.

The sole remaining cashier looked back at William with a look of terror before glancing at the irate man looming over the now abandoned cash register.

“Get back here you sniveling little worm!” Shouted the barrel-chested man wearing a wife beater and minion pajamas. “You got my order wrong twice already!”

Breathing deeply, William put on his absolutely best and hopefully least fake-looking smile before approaching the man.

“Hello, sir. How can I help you?” William offered.

The sheer kindness in his words must have tripped up the angry male, as for a moment he said nothing. Unfortunately, that passed.

“I am trying to get my fucking meal, but that last nitwit fucked it up two goddamn times!” He shouted, throwing his arms in the air. “And he overcharged me!”

“What is your order, sir?” William pressed.

“It was supposed to be two number ones, a number three, and a small swirl cone with sprinkles,” He bellowed, slamming a fist into the counter. “But then that moron gave me nine fucking chicken sandwiches and a water? Who the fuck-”

“I’ve put your order through. Please wait over there while they bring it out to you,” William interrupted, flashing the angry man a wide smile.

“I uh… okay,” he murmured.

The customer awkwardly sidestepped through the crowd and waited at the receiving window. William meanwhile, took his spot at his own register, unlocked it, and was about to take his first order when he heard the remarkably dainty footsteps of his manager.

“Who sent back another fix request?” Snapped the German.

“I did,” William replied, turning to face the beat red face of his superior. “Roger got this nice man’s order wrong twice in a row.”

“Is this true?” hissed the manager.

The bulbous customer bobbed his meaty head. “Uh yeah. That last fella mucked it up a few times but this guy put it through again.”

“Print him out a gift card,” hissed the German man directly in William’s ear. “And you lot,” he started again, turning back into the kitchen. “Put a rush on that last order!”

William smiled to himself and began to settle into his work day, taking orders, handing out food, and smiling as best as he was able. During this time, he heard what sounded like a muffled German from the back. That wasn't a good sign, and sure enough, Roger returned not long after, a scowl on his face.

He shot a glare at William but otherwise kept to himself. A reaction more unnerving than the stream of insults and slurs that William had been expecting to be on the receiving end of. Even during lunch break, he said nothing, keeping to himself, phone in hand.

When the time came to leave for the night, Roger departed without so much as a look, disappearing into the back of a bright orange sports car. William quickly put the odd male from his mind, and just focused on enjoying the fact that he had survived another grueling day. The work had been unpleasant, about as satisfying as cupcake without icing, and altogether way too long but it was over.

Stepping off the bus, William adjusted the straps on his backpack and looked around. The streets were mostly empty, partially due to the light rain that darkened the already dark roads and sidewalks partially due to the lateness of the hour. Traffic was constant, but none slowed, and no faces peered out at him as he continued his trek homeward.

He half expected to see a bright orange car emerge from the rain and turn in his direction but that had yet to happen. With hope starting to well in his chest, the young man hurried down the road before turning sharply to the right. His small apartment complex wasn't far, but unfortunately for William, he would need to walk through a small, mostly abandoned industrial park.

Empty warehouses, dark offices, and piles of rusting metal dotted either side of the road, the shattered remains of industry hidden behind simple chain link. It was a depressing, lonely walk but one that William had grown uncomfortably used to. So with the straps of his bag held tight, he jogged down the road, putting what little strength he had left into the act of returning home as quickly as possible.

For a moment he thought he was free, thought he was going to end his day without further issue but then he heard it. Distant at first, the roaring engine sounded almost like the roll of far-off thunder. Then the screech of tires as rubber met the road, with water serving as the medium between them.

A glance over his shoulder confirmed his fears. The bright orange car was visible, illuminated by a flash of lightning.

“Shit fuck, fuck, shit,” William muttered.

Sprinting as fast as he could, he poured on the speed, desperate to reach the end of the street before the car could. But compared to a car worth a half million dollars, William and his thrift store shoes were no match. He barely made it more than a dozen feet before the car squealed to a stop in front of him, hopping the curb before coming to a stop.

Turning tail, William ran back the way he came, eying the entrance to a mostly empty lot dotted by the occasional barrel and pile of wood or debris. He had reacted quickly, but this also wasn't a race he was about to win. Exhausted, and not the most in-shape person to begin with, William was easily caught by a trio of masked men.

Thrown against a pile of forgotten pallets moldering in the rain, William fell to his knees and looked up in horror. Sure enough, the one that had laid his hand on him was known to the young man.

“Roger,” William murmured. “What the hell are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking I’m gonna put the fear of god in some punk ass kid who thinks he's better than me,” Roger spat, stepping forward.

“It's not my fault you screwed up,” William shot back.

“Just say the computer fucked up or something you fucking loser! Or just say that other dumb bitch did it,” Roger retorted, throwing an arm out. “But no! You had to blame it all on me when it was really the fault of that ham beast who can barely speak without his neck getting in the way.”

The other two men chuckled under their masks.

“I uh didn't think about that,” William murmured.

“And now I may have to do this whole song and dance over again before my dad will let me leave you douchebags behind and join him at his company,” Roger continued, grabbing William by his shirt and hefting him up. “Do you have any idea how painful it is for me to exist alongside you fucking peasants? It disgusts me.”

“Err, sorry?” William exclaimed awkwardly.

“You better fucking apologize. My father is a fucking billionaire do you know that? He made computers what they are today and that means I have more money than god,” Roger continued, his face scrunching up in rage. “Or at least I would if my dad didn't want me to work along one of your shitty jobs in order to fucking learn something.”

“I-”

“Well, I learned something alright. I learned you brainless peasants don't deserve the fucking pennies we allow you to have!” Roger shouted, slugging William in the breadbasket.

The young man fell to his knees, clutching at his stomach, his foe still looming over him.

“When I’m in charge I’m going to squeeze losers like you until I get blood from a fucking stone,” Roger spat.

A kick sent William sprawling to the ground, face landing in a muddy puddle. William lurched upward, sputtering and spitting, trying to refill his lungs while clearing the grime from his face.

“You look better this way,” Roger began again, circling the crawling man. “On your hands and knees like the animal you always were.”

Another booted foot to the side knocked William into the pile of pallets, his eyes rolling around in their sockets. Forcing himself to focus, he looked up to find that a tower of rotten wood was teetering above them, knocked loose when he slammed into it. With Roger closing in, William had little other option, and with a valiant tug, pulled loose the stack.

He didn't stick around to see if his effort had been successful, but judging from the trio of cries, and one pained yell, it had worked. Already running, William sprinted towards the distant fence, his frantic eyes seeking any hole or opening. His soaked glasses made things difficult, but be it either luck or providence, he found a gap in the chainlink barrier. Barely larger than he was wide, it would be a tight fit but on the other side lay a well-lit street only a block from his house.

“Come on, come on,” he muttered to himself.

Behind him he heard the sound of distant footsteps, ones that were closing in, drawing nearer with each passing second. His distraction had worked, but that hadn't changed the fact that it was three against one, and they were all far more athletic than he was. William merely hoped that it would take them precious extra seconds to maneuver through the dark lot, giving him the time he needed.

He wasn't about to look though, and he took his backpack off as he ran, holding it out in front of him. Then his chance came, the hole was coming in close.

Jumping towards the opening, he slammed into the ground and immediately started to crawl. The impact was painful and jarring, but he had always been shorter than most so he didn't fall far at least. He scrambled into the breech, thrusting his bag through the hole before wiggling through the gap in the fence.

His head passed through, then his torso, hips, and finally- wait. He was caught. Something had grabbed at a belt loop. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw a rusted hook of metal had caught the piece of clothing and was holding fast.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck. Let go,” he cursed, tugging at the fence.

He almost managed to get it loose when a pair of hands grabbed his ankles and hauled him back through the opening. In desperation, William clawed at the earth, leaving deep muddy trenches in the ground as he was dragged backward.

“Nooo,” he cried.

Another pair of rough hands forced him onto his back, his eyes immediately latching onto the looming figure standing over him. An arm was cradled against his chest, and a scowl dominated his unmasked face.

“You broke my fucking arm,” Roger spat. “Now I’m gonna break every fucking bone in your useless fucking body.”

With a nod, the other two men held William’s arms and legs down, pinning him in place. Weakened by an exhausting day, a less-than-stellar diet, and little true exercise, there was nothing William could do. It was like he was thrashing against iron restraints, as his limbs were held fast against the ground.

Then the blows began to rain down on him. A stomp to the chest made something crack, a kick to the ribs was punctuated by a snapping noise audible even over the now pouring rain. William tried to cry out, to scream, but two sharp impacts to his midsection knocked the wind out of him.

Over and over the kicks kept coming. Bones snapped, ribs broke, and William coughed up thick, chunky blood. He could hear an argument start to break out but Roger didn't stop, and things were starting to grow dark.

Then, a voice.

“Ooooh that looks like one awful way to go,” remarked an amused, whimsical voice.

“G-god?” William croaked.

“Ha! No, I am not nearly as stuck up as that pompous old jerk. Unlike them I have a sense of humour,” the voice replied. “Which is why I am going to help you.”

William heard what was said, but couldn't respond, his head was swimming, and his vision had started to cloud over.

“Just try to be entertaining hmm? Oh, what am I saying? You humans are an absolute barrel of laughs!” The voice proclaimed.

Suddenly William felt as though he were weightless, floating on an endless black sea. A sea which, with no prompting at all, swallowed him whole.

Somewhere far away from the hustle and bustle of humanity, trod the careful hoofsteps of a changeling nurse. Her dark, hole-ridden form crept down the poorly lit stone hallway, her path lit only by the occasional emerald torch burning every dozen feet. The curved, alien walls and organic architecture felt homey to the creature and those she passed by along her way.

Though most she passed walked at a sedentary, unhurried pace, she was jogging fairly quickly, making haste toward the source of the mental alarm. Fear and adrenaline coursed through her, the changeling unable to resist imagining the worst possible situation. Had there been a cave-in? An attack? Or perhaps it was another stillbirth?

She didn't know, but she knew it wouldn't be long before she found out the truth of the matter.

Rounding a corner, she pushed her way through the sphincter-like opening and into the mossy cave beyond. The air was damp, humid even, and the ground was spongy enough to completely silence the sound of her hooves. Here there was no sound, with even the nurse’s somewhat frantic breathing being rendered inaudible by the acoustics of the chamber.

“Oh,” she murmured.

There was no cave in, nor any enemy attack. Things seemed to be as they had been only a few hours ago when she had concluded her duties. That didn't mean nothing was amiss, however, and she scanned the area, using what little magic she had left to check the life signs of the young stored within.

It took a moment for the magic to conclude, but when it did every single egg glowed with a faint bluish energy. They were okay. None had gone still, and every last one of them had at least enough love to last them through the night.

“What does this mean?” She asked the empty room.

Thankfully the mental alarm had fallen silent, lulled asleep by the assurance that nothing was amiss. Or at least that's how it seemed, and the nurse was determined to be sure of this fact.

“One, two, three,” she began, counting each of the eggs present. “Ninety…. Three?”

Stooping low over a small egg she didn't remember spotting, the nurse inspected it closely.

“Where did you come from, hmmm?” she asked.

With a sigh, she stood back up.

“Probably another little accident from the workers,” she thought aloud. “They likely didn't want to face the punishment for an unsanctioned birth.”

The nurse knew that she should immediately crush the egg, and cull the changeling spawn within. It likely hadn't developed far, and the laws surrounding such an instance were clear. Yet, she stayed her hoof and watched as the dull glow of the diagnostics spells left the egg. For a moment she thought she saw a strange symbol not unlike the one to denote the presence of chaos magic but it was gone before she could blink.

With a long sigh, the nurse turned back the way she came.

“The logs will have to be altered,” she thought aloud. “Oh well, no good deed goes unpunished.”

With that, she was gone.

Author's Note

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